I would die for her
I don't know how to live for her
I just want to love her
and hold her
for her to me mine
and not only mine
I would never trap her
but to selfishly hold the sweetest most secret parts of her
knowing only I know this
I love her like i could love a god
I love her like a child at a museum seeing a beautiful painting
I am unworthy of her
she is not my muse
no art my cursed hands make could show her entire being
in all its holy glory
I do not believe I get to hold her
I do not believe she knows I love her
I do not believe She loves me
-R
6 notes
·
View notes
Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: St. Hudson | Finn Hudson x Jesse St. James (Glee)
Requested by @spicy-cannoli
Jesse leans in the doorway, arms folded as he looks at Finn with a halved gaze and something complimentary to his smile. It makes Finn squirm and look away immediately, feeling hot beneath his skin. This is stupid.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks.
God, this was such a stupid idea. He could've gone to literally anyone else. Faced up to the shame of his semi-honourable discharge and told his mom why he was back in Lima. Or even Mr Schue, he would never judge him. That's part of the problem. Maybe he should've just gone to New York. Why did it have to be Jesse he called up for a place to spend the night?
Jesse merely shrugs, which is a little bit irritating as it's not exactly an answer and leaves Finn wondering what it could be. Is there something on his face? He did just wake up a few minutes ago, maybe his hair is a mess or something.
It's way too early in the morning for this; his eyes briefly move over Jesse and note that he's not dressed yet so he probably didn't sleep in too much. He strikes him as the kind of person who would be together enough to be awake and dressed by ten in the morning.
"I was just thinking that if I had seen you even once like this back in high school, I would probably have tried to make a move on you," Jesse casually says. "Bedhead's a good look on you."
He then pushes away from the frame and asks, "So, breakfast? I assume since you came to me of all people last night for somewhere to sleep that you don't want to go into town, so I'm happy to cook."
Finn blinks, still trying to process the first thing he said. "Uh... yeah. Sure. Is that okay?"
"Only if you don't mind that the only milk I have in is lactose-free."
"That's... fine," Finn says, uncertain of what exactly that means but sure enough that it's not a problem.
He finally goes to climb out of the bed -- he really doesn't want to, the sheets are unlike anything he's slept in before -- then immediately has to sit back down as his leg twinges.
Grasping it tightly, he hisses a curse through gritted teeth. Breathing deeply, he tries to focus on literally anything but the throbbing in his thigh. It's not exactly easy.
"Ouch," Jesse says, startling him as he had closed his eyes against the pain and momentarily forgotten he was there. Now he's staring at the scar with genuine concern. "I'm guessing that's the reason you're back here then."
Finn swallows hard, trying to push down both the strain of ignoring the pain and the humiliation of having to explain what happened. Maybe he just won't. No one has to know the truth.
"Yeah," Finn simply says, voice sounding like sandpaper. He clears his throat and plasters on a fake smile. "So, uh... you mentioned something about breakfast? Great. I'm starving."
Jesse lingers a moment longer, eyes still flitting between his face and his thigh like he wants to ask. Finn is silently praying that he won't.
"Well, we can't have that, now can we?" Jesse returns his smile as Finn exhales in relief. "Come on, soldier boy. I've got some painkillers in the bathroom."
Finn begins to protest, "I don't need them, I'm fine. Really."
"We both know you're not an actor so let's not pretend I actually buy that. But I'm not going to shove them down your throat, so if you don't want them," Jesse shrugs again, "then you don't have to take them. I'm making French toast."
He leaves Finn to get ready. When he finally goes downstairs and finds his way to the kitchen, Jesse's got his back to him, cooking away and singing along to the song on the radio. On the table are a glass of water and a strip of painkillers.
Taking a seat, Finn stares at them silently. He debates with himself for a good minute; does it make him weak if he takes them? It's already pathetic enough how he got injured in the first place, to then need to take medication because he can't handle the pain?
His thigh twinges again like someone's just stuck three fingers deep in the wound and twisted the muscles hard. When he's able to unclench his hand again, he grabs the glass and swallows down two of the pills.
Jesse glances at him over his shoulder and gives him a slight smile and a nod before turning back to the frying pan. "So, quick question: was there a reason the New Directions were so obsessed with Journey?"
22 notes
·
View notes