Let the universe do its thing… and if we’re meant to be together, they we’re gonna be together, whether it’s in a little shoebox apartment in New York or on the other side of the world.
(photo from finchelphotoprompts)
It’s the first time he’s ever been in a cab.
The seats are worn, the leather cracking in places, and the windows are dirtier than he expected. He experimentally presses his palm against one, its surface cool against his heated skin.
He checks his phone. One new message.
Kurt (1:15:09 PM): She still has no idea.
He smiles. Good. That’s good, he thinks, because, the way he sees it, this could go one of two ways: Rachel could either slap him across the face and slam the door, refusing to have anything to do with him, or she could jump him in the hallway, peppering his face with kisses and telling him she knew, deep down, that he would come.
He’s definitely hoping for option two.
He replies to Kurt, telling him he’ll be there soon, and then he pockets his phone. He swallows, training his eyes back out the window.
The cab pulls up to her apartment complex within minutes, and he gently opens the door, stepping out onto the sidewalk, blinking in the bright sun. He pulls his bag out after him, slinging it over his shoulder as he pays the cab driver.
New York City. He glances around briefly, up at the skyscrapers, around at the bustling people, before heading inside. He’ll have time to soak it all in later. Right now, he just needs to see Rachel.
His footsteps sound unnaturally loud against the tile floor as he walks across the lobby, hands in his pockets, bag slung over his shoulder. He jabs the button on the elevator, his heart pounding as he waits for it to arrive. Finally, it dings, and he cautiously steps inside.
The elevator ride to the third floor is somehow the longest of his life, nothing but the sound of his blood pounding in his ears and the nervous tapping of his fingers against the railing filling the small space. Nothing to distract him from his nervousness, from his anxiety.
What if he’s hurt her too badly? What if she wants nothing to do with him anymore?
The elevator dings again, and the doors slide open. He takes a deep breath. He has to shake those thoughts from his mind. He and Rachel are meant to be together, and he has to trust that she still knows this, that she can still feel that tether tugging in her gut just as much as he can.
His feet feel heavy as he makes his way toward the door of the apartment she shares with Kurt, the bright 3B almost blinding in the dim light of the hallway. He just stands in front of the door for a moment. He focuses on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
This is the moment that decides the rest of his life.
He takes a deep breath in, then he raises his fist, knocking firmly on the door.
He hears footsteps, and a loud, female voice – Rachel. His heart pounds out an erratic rhythm in his chest.
The door swings open, and there she is, his Rachel. She’s different and the same all at once. Her hair is a little bit shorter, but her wide brown eyes are the same, her parted lips still just as he remembers.
“Hi,” he says after a moment.
“Finn.” It’s all she says, just his name. He forgot how good it sounds coming out of her mouth.
She launches herself at him then, her arms winding their way around him, and he wraps his own arms around her waist to steady them both, his fingers pressing gently against the curve of her hip. He can feel her tears on the skin of his neck, so he presses a few gentle kisses to the top of her head.
“You’re here,” she manages to get out, and she pulls back to look at him. She runs her fingers hesitantly across the bridge of his nose. “I missed you so much, Finn.”
“I missed you, too, Rach,” he promises, smoothing back her bangs.
She smiles (and God, that might be what he missed most of all) before she leans up to kiss him, her lips still a perfect fit to his own. He cradles her head as he slips his tongue carefully into her mouth, and she moans a bit, gently pulling away once more.
“I – Rachel, I’m finally home.”
Her eyes shine, and then she’s kissing him again, so he thinks she’s okay with that answer. He meant it anyway. He’s home wherever she is. And she’s here, still in love with him, so that’s where he wants to be.
They’re like permanently glued together.
Via "the show must go..all over the place or something