people who need people

“Break a leg,” she says, smiling so wide he thinks she’s going to burst. 

“I love you,” he blurts, and it’s the scariest and most honest thing he’s ever said, but he knows he’s got to say it because he may not have a chance ever again, and she smiles even wider and he knows everything is gonna be okay.

(For now.)

-x-

“People, people who need people,” Rachel is singing, “are the luckiest people of all!”

“Very nice, Rachel,” says Mr. Schue. “We’ll definitely consider that for next year.”

She shoots him a big smile and the only thing he can think is that he may not be around next year.

-x-

Regionals are over and they’ve lost, but Finn can’t bring himself to care. School ends and summer begins and he has Rachel. 

They’re sitting on the couch one day watching some Broadway movie musical when he tells her.

She’s talking about their next date—she wants to go bowling like they did the first time—and he blurts out, “I have cancer.”

“What?” says Rachel, completely stopping in her tracks.

“I have cancer,” he says. “I’m going to die, Rachel.”

“No,” she says simply, and leaves.

-x-

A week later, she comes back. He’s paler, and has bags under his eyes, and is tired all the time. He hates feeling so useless.

“There are no cures?” she says desperately. “I talked to Carole and she informed of the exact type of cancer that you have and I believe that although she says all treatment options have been exhausted we can still do something. Palliative treatments may work to ensure your comfort and health down the line…” She falters at the look on his face.

“No, Rachel,” he says, gathering her into his arms. She sighs and leans her head against his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she says, and he can hear the tears and the I need you in her voice.

-x-

“You’ve lost weight,” she notices. He shrugs and gives a half-grin.

“It’s a thing that happens when you’re dying of lung cancer.”

She whacks him half-heartedly on the shoulder—she leaned her head against his chest yesterday and a crippling pain shot all through his body, so they know now not to try that again—but smiles weakly.

“I love you,” she says.

“I love you, too.”

-x-

“I’m forever yours,” she’s singing, and he wants so much to be able to sing along but the words just aren’t coming out.

“Faithfully,” he tries, and it comes out weak, but it comes out. He smiles triumphantly. She kisses him, then suddenly starts crying.

“Shh,” he breathes. “It’ll be okay.”

But it won’t, and they both know that.

“I love you,” she says.

It’s the first time he hasn’t been able to say it back.

“I need you,” she says again, desperately.