Hierarchy

Sam has lost a lot of things. He's lost football games, his mother's trust, his friends respect, money, his dad's favorite jersey. He's even lost his two wedding rings as the ring bearer. And this is dramatic, pathetic, and frankly kind of hopeless, but losing Rachel, has got to be the worst thing to ever happen to him.

He's desperate. He's seriously desperate.

She doesn't take his calls.

(Maybe their schoolmates tapped her phone?)

She doesn't answer his texts.

(Maybe she tries typing, but never finds the will to hit send?)

She doesn't look at him in the hallways.

(Would anyone, anyone at all, stop her if she did?)

And even when he finds courage, walks up to her every single time, not giving a flying fuck if anyone's watching –and hopes for the better – she looks at him than back at her locker. She is contemplating whether to talk, or just walk away. Which one is easier, and which one is right. She turns back around, her lips opening, but shutting just as fast. He reads her, like an open book; 'I can't, Sam'. He knows what she's battling just by staring into those brown eyes of her.

She chooses what is easy, not what is right.

But in her eyes he spies the same need to talk, to be just as close.

(But the anxiety is stronger.)

He's left flabbergast, a fool re-visiting his heartbreak, when she walks away. Spinning on her heels as her lustrous brown hair falls behind. And when Quinn walks up to him, places her hand on his shoulder (as if he believes that she's actually sorry. As if he believes that she regrets what she has done. As if he believes her sympathy). He shrugs it off.

She's shocked. But Sam has come to the conclusion that he honestly, doesn't care.

'Cause it hurts too damn much to act natural in the presence of someone who's partly to blame of his heartache. But in all honesty, if Quinn never pushed the start sign, him and Rachel wouldn't be at this position, would they?

…

Mike calls him the walking Zombie, Coach Beiste pulls him out of the team and tells him that he's slaking. His teachers are wondering what the hell is going on with him. And Mr. Schuester suggests a song to throw out all of his obvious bottled up emotions.

It's a nice gesture and all, but he'll pass.

(It strikes him, that even though Rachel and him are broken up, he's still in Glee club and his friends don't seem like they're eager to leave, either.)

That's when he knows that things have changed. Yeah, he's still popular, and girls still flay at the sight of him. But the atmosphere in the football locker room is thick, he can't properly breathe whenever she sings in Glee club, starts crying that heart wrenching way, because the song's so emotional and fits their situation perfectly, and tries (but fails) to not look at him. People whisper when he walks past, people look when Rachel walks past, people stare when he looks at her. And when she looks, even if it's just for a second, something electrifying happens between them.

Like they're waiting for something.

(Something never comes.)

…

He takes a seat in the cafeteria, laying both his arms on the table as he stares ahead. The Glee club right ahead.

He catches her eyes, pain flashes through them, before she looks away.

(It hurt's, doesn't it, darling? It hurts her just as much as it hurts him.)

''You need to stop sulking 'round.'' Puck states as he catches the exchange. How long has it been going on? Just few days, tops.

Mike nods, seating his self across of Puck. ''It's starting to become kind of pathetic.''

He wants to say that he is pathetic… pathetically in love. But he doesn't.

''She's only trying to protect you.'' Mike goes on. It's like he's voicing something that's new to him or something. He knew that. He just wished that she stopped thinking about protecting him. It's like, can't he handle it himself? ''And after what happened three days ago, I don't blame her. I mean, did you see what your relationship had done to the school? A total hurricane.''

Puck snorts in agreement. ''I thought that fight – where I totally kicked ass, thank you very much – was crazy. But then those slushies that tripled by the day, those fucked up scary notes they send ya, and don't let me get started on the damage they left on your car.''

Mike hums.

''It'll only get worse if you both get back together.'' Puck finishes, shrugging as he takes his bottled water from the table.

Puck's knuckles are still bruised from the fight as he envelopes his fingers around the bottle. It kind of makes Sam proud, knowing that his friends actually stood there beside him and defended his honor. Rachel was right. He wouldn't have been dead as she so dramatically put in, but he would've been home and in bed rest, if it wasn't for his friends.

''And don't you say; 'it'll be worth it'. In your mind it might seem like it's worth it, but I'll bet you'll think back to this moment when you're walking around with crutches.'' Mike pitches in. ''This school's sick.'' He glances around. ''The people in it are sick. And the school board doesn't do shit. This is like a freaking battlefield. No rules, no supervision, no nothing. Nada. You're lucky you're still walking.''

As long as he's still breathing, there's no stopping.

''Kind of makes you wonder if Mr. Figgens gets blackmailed to keep his toes from tagged area.'' Puck sips from his water, placing it back on the table.

His gaze stays right ahead. 'Cause he's sure that she's going to feel him watching her, and she'll be forced to look back. Maybe not right now, but she will. Maybe not in a minute, or two minutes, or five minutes. But she will. Just wait and see. She'll look back at him. And she'll cry and smile and ask him to come back to her. And he'll tell her yes, and they'll kiss, long and passionately; a big 'fuck you' to the rest of the school.

Just wait and see.

''If it helps, or anything. You guys were cute.'' Mike shrugs. ''But something's are just not meant to be. Too much shit going around and too much shit in the middle. It's just a big puddle of… shit.'' He spats.

She's going to look back. If he looks a bit longer. She'll look back. She will.

''I pushed Azimio extra hard, if it makes you feel better.'' Puck, as nonchalantly as he can and as bad-ass as he makes himself out to be, says. ''Totally pushed him on purpose. I think he knew, though.'' Rachel laughs. But it's fake. She's hurting too. In any minute now. ''You saw how he was pushing me back? Damn, he's still on that punch I gave him.''

(Look back, baby. Please.)

Mike sighs. ''You seriously look fucked up. Don't you ever blink?'' He purses his lips. ''Maybe you should take Schue's offer and sing about it… Dancing always makes me feel better.''

He blinks.

''Yeah.'' For the very first time, he talks. His voice raspy. ''I probably should.''

…

He sings. But he doesn't cry. He's close at tearing apart before the whole classroom, but no such thing comes to order.

They look at each other. And he thinks that she finally found a valuable reason to look at him. When he sings and focuses on the notes, but most importantly focuses on her, she feels like it's the right moment to look at him. Because everyone else does. So why can't she? But she makes the big mistake by letting a few tears slip, and clench her fists, like his rendition of 'Apologize' really hurts her. Like it really does something to her.

She makes the biggest mistake by holding his gaze when he's long done, because now her eyes tell him so much more; 'I'm sorry. I miss you. I want you back. I need you, Sam. Can't we make things okay? I want you back, I want you back. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I'm sorry. So, sorry.' And if anything, knowing her, she despises showing her emotions in front of people (it's weakness, people can't see her weak).

But Mr. Schue claps in his hands, all proud and glad that he made a big show of his emotions and placed it right on a plate for the whole Glee club to see, halting their mental bonding before he could ever say; 'It doesn't matter. I forgive. I love you.'

''Sam… That was… beautiful. Simply outstanding.''

Everyone claps as soon as Mr. Schue's done talking. And she's there, looking at a faraway wall behind him, staring into abyss. She presses her lips together, her hands clasping around her seat.

(He's never heard silence quite this loud.)

…

His eyes only widen for a millisecond, before he shakes his head.

His locker is completely vandalized. There are dents in his locker and graffiti letters scribbled on top of it, proclaiming; LOSER, in big fat letters.

It doesn't hurt as much as he thinks it would. It's because he knows he's loser. And he's kind of proud of it too. It's just… if Rachel was still his, the sting probably wouldn't even be there.

He types his code in, twirling the lock and pulling his locker open, before throwing his books inside.

It's quite a coincidence when he catches her eyes as she walks past. Because she never looks at him in the hallways. But this time she does and she looks sympathetic and angry at the same time.

He hates the sympathy look, but he loves the anger.

(It kind of proves that she still cares about him. Not that he ever doubted it. It's just… it's kind of nice seeing her worked up.)

She stops two feet away from him, her back directed to his face.

For a fleeting moment he actually expects her to turn around. Tell him that it's going to be her and him against the world. But she's fighting a vigorous emotional battle with the brain that helps her make sane decisions, and her heart that put her in this mess.

Eventually, her brain wins.

(And for a tiny second, he almost lets his heart take control, and do what she was so afraid to do.)

…

He shouldn't have said yes. But she dumped him. She walked away from him. She left him hanging in the girl's bathroom. She broke his damn heart. She let him fall. It's not the other way around. She killed him. She destroyed him. It's only fair that he tries to put the pieces back together. So, when Brittany has a party and he's invited, 'cause even though he's dated the school's freak and had probably lost his mind for a few weeks in there, he's still hot, popular and people look up to him.

They want him there.

He goes.

It sucks.

He's moody, and angry, and he doesn't want any girl to touch him. He drinks and drinks and downs a few beers in there. But instead of feeling at least a bit horny, or the right amount of dazed, just so he could jump into the sack with some nameless, faceless chick, attempting to forget the very beautiful girl he's in love with. He's left annoyed with everyone else.

He completely flips on Quinn when she falls into his lap.

''What's your problem!'' She exclaims. Her voice is shrilly above the hard music. ''Just relax…'' Her lips are near his ears, her hands flying to his chest. She cherishes him, feels him up.

He touches her hands. They're not the right amount of soft, and not nearly as small.

''Don't touch me.'' He hisses, pushing her off, causing her to fall on to the couch. He drowns another gulp of his beer, trying to steady his body.

Her nose wrinkles, her eyes obviously glazed. She's drunk. ''Why are you being like this…'' She purses her lips, narrowing her eyes. It only takes her one look to figure it out. ''It's about her, isn't it?'' He doesn't answer. And she waits, minutes, minutes, minutes. But he never answers. Soon, she gets fed up with his silence, and throws her hands in the air. ''Come on, Sam. Look around you… You see them, you see everyone? That's what you are, that's who you're part of. She doesn't belong here, don't you see it?'' She slurs her words, spatting it out with venom. ''She's a freak for crying out loud.'' He hates her. He hates Quinn so much. ''A guy like you and a girl like her don't fit.'' They do. They did. ''It's so wrong, the cosmos will be out of balance if it happens all over again!''

There's something she said that hit him in his drunken daze.

'She doesn't belong here.'

And what about him? Does he? Does he belong here? Does he even want to belong somewhere, where she's not wanted?

''I'll help you forget about her.''

She flings forward, but he fences her off with his hands, stands up with the beer bottle still in his grasp.

And then he does what she said.

He looks around and stares at the crowded place. At the trampy girls who've treated the girl he loves like trash, and the boys that have, not long ago, kicked the living crap out of him, all because of what he wanted. Because of whom he loved.

And after a while, blinking his eyes, he drops the beer bottle on the table.

''I don't belong here.'' He mutters. His eyes fall onto Quinn's willing body. And oh, does he wish she was someone else right now. Someone with brown eyes, and an obsession with stars. ''I'm leaving.''

''B – but you're drunk.''

He sets his jaw. ''I'll walk.''

It's not that far away from his house, anyway.

…

Dear diary,

They're not as bad, as they were before. But they still treat me like crap, and I saw how Quinn was treating Rachel earlier in the hallways, it's no good either. Shits awful. And I just thought – I know – that if I still had Rachel. All this, would've been bearable. But it's not. She's not here and it's not. It's kind of hard to chew and swallow.

I don't want to go back in time, pretend that she's nothing to me, because that's what everyone else wants. Not while I've already felt how it's like to be with her.

She can't do that to me, can she?

Wait. Someone's at the door.

…

He stops and listens. He breathes but frowns. He's surprised but happy. He's much, but he's nothing at the same time.

''I just need you now, Sam.''

(She's been crying. He knows she has.)

…

The moment he closes the door, she talks.

''I can't do this. I can't do this, Sam. I can't put you out of my mind. But I can't be with you either. It's like your everywhere.'' She swallows, tightly. ''And… did you really have to sing that song to me? Do you know how hard it is already? I'm devastated too, you know. I'm hurt too!'' She shakes her head. ''But then I remember what they did to you, how your friends had to come to your aid… and that happened because of me. Because of a stupid food fight that went out of hand.'' She points a finger to her chest. ''And I'm selfish for wanting you back, because you have a lot more to lose than I have.''

''No one ever said it was going to be easy, Rach.''

''But no one ever told me it was going to be this damn hard!'' Her voice dies, her hands fisting. He takes a step closer. ''I can't have you, but I want you…'' She continues high-pitched, but barely above whisper. ''Damnit! Why can't it be easy!'' Her eyes shimmer. ''Why can't they just… accept us?'' She presses her lips together. ''Is that so hard?'' Her voice is soft. ''Are we going to breed a damn unique race that will eradicate them all?''

He walks up to her, taking her hands into his.

He's relieved that she doesn't pull back.

''I love you. And that's all that matters. No one else.''

She snorts, a little smile creeping on her face, as she says; ''They'll never understand. You know that, don't you?''

Sometimes he knows too much for his own good. ''I know.''

She licks her lips, and as she averts her eyes up to his, a tear falls from her eye and slowly trails down her cheek. Subconsciously, his thumb moves up to her cheek, as if trying to wipe her sorrow away. ''We… we'll always be on the look-out for them.'' She sniffs. ''And we'll always have to defend our love… A – are you ready for that?''

He's been waiting to hear these words, the moment his eyes fell onto hers, and she smiled.

''I'm ready. I have been. For a long time.''

She sets her jaw, blowing out a hastily breath. ''I'm scared, though.''

''Don't be.'' He wraps his arms around her tiny petite frame. And her up close, against him, he's been waiting for that, for a long time now. ''Just close your eyes, baby.'' She does. Her tiny hands fisting the back of his shirt. ''Tomorrow's a new day.''

…

They don't know what's going to happen next. How everyone's going to react when they walk through the hallways together hand in hand. It's going to be difficult.

But no one ever said love was easy.

…

Dear diary,

We kissed in the middle of the hallway, and even though the whole school was shocked, it didn't do me a thing.

'Cause it's Rachel, me and then the sidelines.

They can't touch us.

Unless we let them.

…

…

…

…

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…

End.

I thought this was a good way to end it. With the thought that they're going to keep on going, no matter what comes in between.

Hope you enjoyed it!