Author's Notes: Because I couldn't resist. I apologize, however, for this is not beta-read.

Disclaimer: Glee belongs to FOX.

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Koko ni Shika Sakanai Hana

A Flower That Only Blooms Here

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You think it's silly, coming back here. Lima is not the same, now, in both essence and the people living in it. You haven't told your wife about it, of course you haven't. You haven't told Rachel, the woman you've promised your life and love to, that you've come here. You think it's silly, but you have a good reason. You know you've been going insane without any contact, without ever seeing his face again. You're tired of seeing things that aren't really there, and even though Lima is so quiet you know that there's a flower that blooms only here.

You wonder if that flower is as beautiful as you remember it.

It probably is.

You don't understand what's wrong with you when you drive through the streets (you've gotten over that little mailman incident years before), because you think you hear his laughter but it's just the static of your radio. You don't understand, either, how he's always had a place in your heart, how you've always been whispering his name in unrequited, broken ecstasy.

Naturally, Rachel does not know.

Rachel doesn't know anything.

You can't remember why you married her.

You think it's because it's what he would have wanted for you.

But your heart screams otherwise.

Wishful thinking brings nothing good, and you know this. You are the prime witness of this disappointment.

Your hand trembles on the steering wheel and your foot presses harder on the gas pedal.

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You wonder to yourself whether he is still waiting for you. You wonder whether he will still comfort you, even after the both of you have been away from each other for so long. You wonder how he will react in regards to you having grown up and married the woman everyone knew you were going to marry all those years ago. You remember how the both of you couldn't say goodbye so easily on your graduation day, how he always seemed to look back and wave with that beautiful, heart-breaking smile. You remember the bleeding of your lower lip because of you trying so hard not to speak of the truth, not to tell him you loved him. You remember the sensation of loneliness filling every inch of your being, staining you and murdering you. You remember waiting for him to run to you and wipe your tears away.

Your mother asked you what was wrong at that time.

You told her you were just happy that high school was over.

In truth, you were sad.

His retreating form, and the retreating of his shadow, taught you that in this world, there is sadness. But you remember – he'd looked back one more time. You remember that at that point the world was at its brightest. You remember how your heart soared (because at that moment he was so beautiful, and you were so eager), and your grip on the steering wheel tightens because so many memories keep blooming in your heart, because he has never really left you.

You ask yourself why you hadn't realized that he was with you all along.

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You're surprised that he still lives in the same apartment, and when you knock on his door you can hear the shuffling inside and you smile gently because he is still the same. Your heart is beating in its ribcage, and you ask yourself how would Rachel feel right now if she knew I was visiting someone else? And then you answer yourself with an I really wouldn't care.

You know that the road, the path which the both of you (you and him) had taken so many years ago – is now covered in mud. You know that it's not new asphalt and that cars now take it for granted, but you believe that today you will carve a sign that says that you have been here. You believe that somehow, you and he will revive that road.

The door opens and a single word is spoken.

"Finn?" His voice is still sweet, still tender, and still so incredibly loving. Your heart beats for him and you look at him, you look at William Schuester and tell yourself that he's the most beautiful man in the world. He's older now, and there are lines on his face that were not there before, but his eyes still burn with a cool blue-green fire, and his expressions are still the same.

He pulls you into his embrace, and you lean into him.

The wind will carry the tears you shed right now atop a withering flower, and will bring it back to life.

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Mr. Schu – no, Will – is on his sofa and rubbing his chin. He cannot comprehend the reason you are here, and you're sitting across from him in a piece of furniture you cannot remember being there when you were in high school. His look of incredulity and the feelings echoing and reverberating off the walls (of feelings unrequited, of desire never fulfilled, of dreams that have shattered) make you feel like singing.

"Why are you here, Finn?" he asks, and you find tears welling up in your eyes again because he's so lovely. You try to chuckle, but it comes out sounding more forced that you intend it to, and you give a little shrug of your shoulders.

"Koko ni shika sakanai hana," you answer in as best a Japanese accent as you can, but, like Spanish, you've never really mastered it. Will raises an eyebrow in comprehension, but you know he will not ask, because Will is Will, and he waits for people to tell him rather than prod. You are thankful that Will is not Rachel. You are thankful Will is Will.

He stands and you feel the sofa you are sitting on sag just a little under his weight, and you're surprised because he's embracing you again and resting his forehead on your shoulder. This is all too nostalgic – you can remember yourself a long time ago doing this exact same thing to him when you found out Quinn was pregnant – and you can feel his frame shaking just slightly in your hold. You hold him tighter.

"I've missed you," he says, and you smile because he's suddenly so vulnerable. Perhaps Will has come to accept that he cannot always be strong. Your voice leaves you before you can stop it.

"I've missed you, too, Will."

When you speak his name, it sends chills along your spine.

He looks up and you feel like crossing a rainbow.

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It's too fast.

The sensation of lips on lips, of sudden fulfillment and satiation, fills you from head to toe. You pull him closer because you need this and you can't give a care as to how Rachel will react – you pull him closer and you bite on his lower lip and snake your tongue in when he gasps. Will tastes like cola-flavored candy, and it's so beautiful. You find yourself pressing against him and gently pushing him downward into the structure that is your sofa, and you pull back to kiss his throat.

"Finn." Will's voice is barely a whisper, and you can feel his fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt. You look at him and you find him blushing like a high school girl, looking up at you through long eyelashes. He still feels like the teacher, like the adult figure, you can tell. He opens his mouth to speak but you shush him by kissing him again, your fingers grasping at his disarranged curls, his body arching against yours and fitting itself like a jigsaw puzzle. Your tongues are brushing against each other and you roll your tongue against his, you swallow his delicious moan and brush the end of his polo shirt higher up his torso; and you wonder why you've held back all these years.

The next time you pull back, you see a fleeting moment of apprehension before a smile bursts across William's face.

"I've missed you," he breathes, and this time you know he is playing the role of equal rather than mature figure. You lean forward and taste him, and revel in the hushed whispers of your name.

"Koko ni shika sakanai hana."

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The road is muddy after the rain,

but I'll carve a sign showing I've lived here.

- OWARI -