It is (was, actually, since it's past midnight) Beth's birthday and I wanted to pay a tribute to it. It's the first time I write something this way (I usually use tons and tons of words), so feedback would be much appreciated. Enjoy!

"We could be a family."

It starts that way. She can practically hear her heart pounding against her ribcage, as if it's begging for an out. Or maybe it was his.

(It didn't matter in the end, though, because her heart belonged entirely and only to him all along anyway.)

…

She spends too much time thinking about him. It was a lie, a blatant lie when she told him she wanted to do it alone. She knows she should. But unfortunately, should and would are two different things.

So she lies and lies and lies, and prays that if she does it for long enough, her lies will become truths.

…

They don't.

…

Should and could are different things, and it's not long before she finds herself in his arms again, pretending to sleep while he quietly sings her a song because he thinks she can't hear it. (He knows she can.)

…

"I don't care," she spits out (lies). "Just go and fuck her while you're at it."

(And shit, she gives him that fucking look, the one that makes him feel like he means less than dirt to her, like he doesn't deserve her, and it's not fucking fair.)

He gives her a sneer. "Maybe I will," and maybe he's been spending too much time with her, because that's a lie too.

"Good, maybe then someone will give a shit about you."

(She thinks she can hear a crack.)

She flinches at the sound as she walks away, and he just stares numbly, wondering how this went from wanting to make her jealous to realizing that for once she's not lying when she says she doesn't care.

…

Sometimes he stops and thinks about how much she scowls as she mentions his dreams, and wonders if it's because she doesn't want to get left behind, or if she's just bitter he has them at all. He decides then he would do everything in his power to make her see she's a part of them, too.

…

He doesn't let her let go.

We could be a family, a house, some furniture, especially now.

She's thankful, she realizes, as he watches him on the couch - their couch - with Beth laying on his chest, both fast asleep. They're a family now, and she thinks that maybe this could fix her. She thinks this might be her chance at mending her broken pieces, at being normal and… and happy.

…

She stirs awake on a tear stained comforter and hisses, wishing desperately that her dream could be more like Rachel's, and that she could make it come true with just enough willpower. (That she could go back in time to years ago, when she envied Puck for having his, and let him make hers come true.)

But hers could easily be mistaken for nightmares, insistently haunting her once a year.

"Happy birthday, Beth."