The First Steps 

quinndelinquent:

It had been two weeks since she’d come to class and it showed. Quinn struggled to understand whatever it was the teacher was talking about, brow furrowed and pen impatiently tapping against the tabletop. Normally, if she had trouble understanding something or she just tuned out, she’d ask Rachel and Rachel would huff adorably before going on an incredibly detailed rant about it until Quinn shut her up with her lips. She really didn’t think she could do any of that anymore.

She felt part relief and part dread when the class broke up into their little groups, straightening in her seat self-consciously as Rachel sat down beside her. The constant looks in their direction ticked her off too. Couldn’t they mind their own business when Quinn was on the edge of having an emotional overload or something? 

Rachel’s observation about her face snapped Quinn out of glaring down everyone of the onlookers. The cut on her cheek made her look kind of tougher and she was sure that by the end of the day, there’d be all sorts of rumors flying about how she’d gotten it. “Thanks,” she said awkwardly. “You…um…your face looks better too.” Immediately after, she felt like smacking herself. What was that? Your face looks better too?? “Not that, you know, it was bad before. Completely the opposite,” she rambled. God, somebody shut her up. And she got her wish because Rachel’s phone vibrated and Jesse’s face showed up on the screen. Quinn took it back, she’d go on rambling and humiliating herself for however long if it meant that Jesse wasn’t lighting up Rachel’s screen. She shifted awkwardly, looking down at the notes and doodles she’d done on her notebook. 

“My vacation was great. Five star accommodations at Guantanamo Bay,” Quinn answered sarcastically, tapping her pen against the table. She didn’t know what was worse, being miserable at home with Rachel far away or being miserable at school with Rachel so near. Probably Guantanamo Bay.  

They really needed to get some work done. Quinn had deliberately missed two weeks after all. She pulled out the notes Rachel had left yesterday and her own she’d made from it and the power of the internet. Right, do some work. “So…” she started, trying to come up with something clever and impressive segue way for their project. “Jesse, huh?” That was not what she wanted to say. That was the opposite of what she wanted. Still, a part of her thought stubbornly, already? It hadn’t even been a month. 

Rachel was far too busy feeling satisfied by Quinn’s stumbled compliments to register the shift in the blonde’s demeanor. She was too busy smiling to herself, down at her notebook, because Quinn liked her face enough to ramble on about it. Even the sarcasm went over her head, because that was just how Quinn spoke most of the time. But awkward babbling? That was much rarer when it came to this girl.

She just chuckled under her breath, laughing along with Quinn’s sarcasm, and picked up her phone, quickly typing out a reply to Jesse. But his name rang out loud in a voice that never sounded happy to say it. Her eyes flicked from her screen where it sent a quick “Maybe.” back to him, and found hazel eyes that she couldn’t make sense of. 

She couldn’t read Quinn’s tone either and she wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed. Childishly, she didn’t immediately correct the assumptions her ex girlfriend was undoubtedly making. She decided to push her buttons instead, because part of her was still hurt enough to want to hurt her back. The other part of her was too curious to let it go.

“Jesse and I are like-minded people,” she answered vaguely, neither a yes or no to what Quinn was really asking. “Do you care?” Well that was a stupid question because obviously she did care, otherwise she wouldn’t bring it up. But she wanted to hear it. Desperately.

“And you and Mack… I’ve heard… you know, stuff.” she shrugged, but it was a blatant lie. She heard nothing of Quinn Fabray for two weeks, absolutely nothing at all. She might has well have dropped off the face of the Earth, for all Rachel knew. But she saw an opportunity and she had to pounce, because what if? What if, what if, what if? She had to know if Quinn had moved on and thrown some new girl to the bed she had slept in so many times, taken her roughly and carelessly, forgetting all about Rachel Berry. “At least, I think it was her…” she mumbled, giving Quinn the space to correct her, tell her it was somebody else.

The First Steps 

quinndelinquent:

Coming back to school after two weeks of skipping it was…weird for lack of a better word. Quinn stood staring at it for the better part of five minutes. Had it always been that weird color or was that only after she and the Skanks had tagged it at the beginning of the school year?

When she’d woken up this morning and remembered what had happened the day before, she’d immediately pulled the covers back up and wished she could go back to sleep. Normally she would have been able to but it was as if her mind or her heart or some other rebellious part of her physically prevented her from being able to. She’d told Rachel she would be here today, after all. She shifted the strap of her backpack higher on her shoulder, hands shoved deep into her pockets before with a sigh, making her way into the school.

Her teachers were rightly surprised that she’d shown up and it ticked Quinn off every time they did a double take after she replied with a “Here” to her name. Mr. Thompkins had fallen off of his chair in his surprise. Quinn would have laughed if there wasn’t a feeling of dread in her stomach, steadily growing as her class with Rachel approached. She barely talked to anyone that day, Mack wasn’t talking to her, Ronnie was skipping and Sheila was off visiting her dad in prison. The only time she’d spoken was to tell Puck to fuck off when he propositioned her now that she and Rachel were broken up. She might have also swung her bag way too hard into his balls but that was semantics.

Just like that morning, Quinn stood staring at the door to her class with Rachel. It was five minutes past when class started and her name had probably been read off already. She should just leave, she thought, her lower lip caught between her teeth. But she’d told Rachel. Quinn cursed inwardly before walking into the classroom. 

“Nice of you to join us, Miss Fabray,” the teacher chirped from the front of class, not even breaking her stride in the lecture when Quinn glared back at him. Hazel eyes met with Rachel’s briefly and she offered a pained smile before dropping into the seat at the very back of the class, right behind the boy with the flatulence problem. She really should have stayed home. 

The outlook was bleak as the day rolled on closer and closer to the class she shared with Quinn, the class where she actually needed her to be. She hadn’t caught sight of her all day, which was disappointing in itself. However, she had seen Noah Puckerman limping and cradling his crotch with a pained expression written all over his contorted features, which gave her a strange sense of hope. 

She texted Jesse through the day and stared at Quinn’s name in her contacts between, wondering if it would be okay to text and just ask if she was in or not. But she resisted each and every time, and every time she went back to trading song choices with Jesse.

Finally, the class rolled on up to the front of the clock. She was early, of course, and it’s not like she expected Quinn to join her at that time, but when the teacher entered, her mood darkened. She had been stupid to get her hopes up. He called the register, Rachel called out a half-hearted “Here, sir.” He called Quinn’s name, and silence rang out. Like always, like every day since news spread of their break up, people stole sideways glances at her each time silence followed Quinn’s name. 

She sighed, head ducked further than usual this time around. Stupid, naive Rachel Berry. It wasn’t until a wave of murmurs broke up that she looked up again, five minutes after teaching had began. There was the willowy image of Quinn Fabray, worn and tired and wearing a bright red cut on her cheek. Such a grim sight had never been so uplifting before. Rachel didn’t bother to hide her smile.

Granted, Quinn showing up late wasn’t a grand idea. It made working in a pair much harder when she was so far away, but that was just Quinn all over, wasn’t it?  

She looked over her organized desk and contemplated packing up and wandering to the less desirable free seat beside her partner. Her tidily aligned pens seemed to plead with her not to do it, but sparing a glance sideways told her that neither person beside her would move. Reluctantly, when they were dismissed to go work in their pairs or groups of three, Rachel packed herself up and moved away to the seats at the back of the class. 

The class erupted into animated chatter about anything but their work. Rachel took a quieter tone when she turned to her partner and flopped down her half of the workload onto the desk. 

“Hi,” she acknowledged with a smile too genuine to be forced. “Your face looks better.” Her phone interrupted her from her desk, with a picture of Jesse popping onto the screen momentarily. She dismissed it quickly. Now wasn’t really the time to make Quinn jealous with his (real, this time) texts. Eyes were on them, friends of Rachel’s curiously eyeing up what was happening, how they were getting along, were they back together again, and all the gossipy stuff that boded so well with high school. Rachel didn’t look away from Quinn. “So… ” Project be damned. “How’s your two week vacation been?” she joked lightheartedly, ignoring her own hope to see that Quinn was suffering too. That would be selfish…

Mountains and Molehills 

quinndelinquent:

Teeth bit into the inside of her cheek as Rachel dabbed at her cheek with the cotton, more to keep her eyes from watering than to distract herself from the sting. Quinn couldn’t understand why Rachel was still acting so caring with her. She hadn’t been able to give Rachel what she wanted, hadn’t been able to say the words, so the pretense should be over right? But Rachel was still taking care of her, still looking at her with doe eyes that spoke volumes and it made her own eyes sting. So she bit the inside of her cheek because if she didn’t, she’d probably start crying and she’d already cried so much these past two weeks.

“Thanks,” she said hoarsely once Rachel was done applying the anti-bacteria stuff. She missed the kisses she would get after Rachel patched her up, usually accompanied with lectures of why she needed to stop punching things. The thought brought a small smile to Quinn’s face before she quickly ducked her head. 

Rachel’s request tugged at Quinn and she hated it, hated that this girl could still ask anything of her and she would do it. It wasn’t fair. Her babbling made Quinn smile and the concern…another tug at her heartstrings and she gripped at the counter behind her. It really, really wasn’t fair. Without even thinking it through, she found herself nodding. Yes, she would go back to school with her tomorrow and do their project and finish up her own project with the Glee club and jump off a bridge if she asked.

The only thing she couldn’t seem to do for Rachel was exactly what she wanted from her. …well, that wasn’t exactly true, was it? ”I was on my way, you know,” she mumbled without even thinking, her eyes on the floor. Quinn blinked, coming back to herself and shook her head. No, it wouldn’t do to say that now. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” There, that was better and wouldn’t open a whole can of worms. 

That sounded like a goodbye, but she was thrown! What did Quinn mean? On her way to what? To… to what Rachel thought she meant? To what she hoped? Or did she mean she was on her way to school, or something equally as mundane and day-to-day? And why say it now, after two weeks of tears and nothing but a wannabe star to comfort her?

She was still for just a moment, looking at the woman who may or may not have just confessed that she was at least capable of loving her back, at some point. But it was too late, right? If she said that when Rachel asked, then maybe it would be different, but it was too late for that now. And Jesse… he was pretty similar. Cocky, talented, possessive, all of those were some of the traits she fell in love with when it came to Quinn. Of course, he wasn’t beautiful and feminine and he wasn’t as protective. He was just… Well, he wasn’t Quinn. But Rachel could get used to that, he could grow on her. Quinn, however… Quinn didn’t want to be there, did she? Quinn wanted something easy with no real commitment, at least, not long-term. She said goodbye at such a crucial time, she gave up on them when they were all preparing to head off for college, when their lives were taking different routes. Quinn made her choice. And it’s not like she was willing to talk about it now, was she? Of course not. One day soon, Quinn would be in California, and Rachel would be in New York, and they would forget about each other, tangled in the sheets of some other person’s bed. Probably.

All of a sudden it was all too much, all too heavy on her shoulders and her chest, it was pushing down on that lump in her throat. What was she even doing here?

“Okay.” she whispered, cleared her throat, and tried again more clearly. “Okay.” this time she averted her eyes and readjusted her bag on her shoulder. “I’ll see you at school then. Make sure you come.” she smiled, but it was gone as quickly as it came. So she left, again.

Mountains and Molehills 

quinndelinquent:

Quinn nearly stopped breathing when Rachel stepped into her personal space. Her hands clenched at her sides and her eyes widened. It was taking everything in her not to pull away from the hand on her cheek. And it was taking even more not to lean into Rachel’s soft touch because god, had she missed it. Her hands were itching to pull Rachel into a hug and never let go. They clenched and unclenched, hovering uselessly at her sides as she was looked over, her eyes trained resolutely on the wall behind Rachel.

Finally, Rachel stepped away and Quinn felt relief and loss at the same time. She couldn’t get to the toaster and put distance between them again fast enough. She took her time eating her poptart, keeping her head ducked as she did. The longer she took to eat, the longer she could put off answering Rachel’s questions. But soon enough, too soon for Quinn’s liking, the pastry was gone and she had no choice but to answer.

“Hasn’t been disinfected yet,” she mumbled, choosing to answer the much easier question of the two. She’d tried looking for it last night but soon gave up and went to sleep instead. Now that she thought about it, she wouldn’t be surprised if there was a stain on the pillow she’d slept on. “I did splash some water on it.” A shrug. That was about as much effort as she put into anything lately. 

As for the question of how she got it…Quinn reached into fridge and pulled out the milk. Almond, because it reminded her of Rachel. She tried to cover up the label as she poured it, not wanting to show Rachel exactly how pathetic she was, although her current state was probably enough evidence. “My mom’s ring was on the wrong way,” she said quietly before downing the milk as if it was a hard alcoholic drink. She set the empty glass aside, avoiding Rachel’s eyes because she didn’t want to see what might be in them.

Too much in such a short space of time. Way too much. The almond milk, the sheepishly trying to cover it, the ring, the everything. Her heart broke all over again, because even when she wasn’t here, Quinn kept her there with her. What can you say to that? She was only eighteen. And the girl she loved got hit by her boozy old mother.

“Water isn’t enough.” she said quietly. This was a conversation they’d had before, evidenced by the way Rachel knew exactly where to go to get the anti-bacterial stuff that Quinn hated. “Give me your face,” she demanded without room for maybes or even a little bit of hesitation. When Quinn reluctantly stilled enough for her bring the cotton pad up to her cheek, Rachel swooped in, dabbing it as gently as she could. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, like she always did when Quinn winced and hissed and huffed and puffed whenever it stung a bit too much. Only this time, she wouldn’t seal the deal with a soft kiss and a smile. She had to just step away and dispose of the stained cotton. “It’ll heal faster this way,” she said optimistically, appealing for a smile. She wasn’t sure she’d get one today, but it was a good start. Quinn’s face, when Jesse St. James was mentioned, was one of all kinds of emotions, too many for Rachel to read at once. That had to mean something. 

She almost went too far, almost mentioned that he kissed her. But she stopped short. She wasn’t that stupid, after all. But she needed another reason to keep her there.

“Come back to school with me tomorrow,” she requested in a softer voice, finding hazel eyes with her darker ones, the way she always could when she wanted something. It was only two weeks, Quinn couldn’t have become immune to her charms already, right? “I need help with this project and you need to film me— us, the glee club.” she stumbled there. What did Quinn do with that video of them together? “For yourself and for us. The club, I mean.” Jesus, help her. “Please, Quinn. You need to get out of here as much as you can anyway.” she added with only the slightest hint of desperation to the edge of her voice. The cut seemed more raw than ever, now she knew the cause of it. 

Mountains and Molehills 

quinndelinquent:

Quinn froze, poptart halfway to her mouth at Rachel’s comment about toasters. She knew that. She just didn’t want to wait the three minutes it took until it was the right amount of toasted that she liked but Rachel was right. It would taste better from the toaster. She rolled her eyes and tossed the pastry into the toaster. Might as well, she thought. It gave her more to do and more excused to avoid looking at the girl in her kitchen, the same kitchen where everything had happened two weeks ago.

It was hard to look at Rachel. Each time she did, it was like another pinprick in her heart because Rachel was so heartbreakingly beautiful. Or beautifully heartbreaking. One of those. It hurt just to look at her because it was a reminder that she had lost that, that she could no longer pull Rachel close and tilt her chin up so she could kiss her. And that she could no longer build her courage and confidence up so she could tell Rachel how she really felt. What was the point? It would be too late.

Okay, so maybe this was a dream, after all. Her thoughts had taken a turn for the depressing. 

The mention of Jesse filled Quinn’s veins with ice. What was that asshole doing texting her gi - Oh. Rachel wasn’t her girlfriend anymore, was she? Quinn had no claim over her. She should let her go, let her move on to someone less broken. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t. The thought of Rachel in that jackass’s arms sickened her. “Yeah, email probably won’t work as well,” she mumbled, looking down at the floor, hating what she was feeling but unable to help it. “We should probably do it properly.” Anything to keep Rachel as far away from Jesse as long as possible.

The toaster dinged, popping out the poptart but Quinn ignored it, unconsciously running a finger over the cut on her cheek. 

Rachel smiled despite herself, because Quinn took the bait, with the additional bonus of wordlessly shoving the poptart in the toaster, even if she did roll her eyes as she did it. It was a start. 

The poptart popped up and Rachel waited for Quinn to take it, but of course, Quinn was never straight forward. She looked off into the distance with smoky eyes and her finger tracing that nasty looking cut on her cheek. Rachel wondered how deep it was, whether it would leave a scar, and how it got there in the first place.

She wondered if Quinn knew she still loved her.

“How did you get that?” she asked gentler this time, rather than going for the harsher “What’s wrong with your face?” Hesitantly, she stepped forward. They hadn’t been this close in weeks, and when they were, it was bad. Almost scary. Rachel carefully pulled Quinn’s hand away, looking for signs of bruising there, then moved her eyes up to the cut. It was never easy, what with Quinn being taller and everything, but she always had to inspect.

Gently cupping Quinn’s cheek, she pressed her thumb to the reddened flesh around it, squinting like she was a doctor or something, not an ex girlfriend who didn’t trust Quinn to take care of herself (with good reason, though.) This close though, she didn’t feel like Dr. Berry. She felt like Rachel, who could smell the familiar scent of Quinn Fabray mixed with the scent of poptarts wafting over to them. She could feel Quinn’s breath and even without her eyes ever finding Quinn’s, she knew how they’d look. Hurt. Torn. Hesitant. Desperate to detach from this situation. Appreciative. She knew.

“And have you disinfected it?” she asked, stepping back again and gesturing to the toaster with a “You’re free to go,” look in her eyes. Not that she was letting Quinn off without answering both questions this time.

Mountains and Molehills 

quinndelinquent:

Oh. So this wasn’t a dream. Usually, by this point in a dream with Rachel in it, things took a turn for the incredibly explicit or the horribly depressing. It seemed to be neither of those. Rachel actually was at her door right now after two weeks of avoidance and hiding. Great, Quinn thought sarcastically. She let out a sigh, rubbing her hand across her face and grimacing when she carelessly touched on the cut on her face, ignore Rachel’s question about it.

And of course Rachel was here for school and for Mr. Schuester. As if she would want anything to do with Quinn outside of those after what happened two weeks ago. Quite frankly, Quinn just wanted to say ‘fuck it all.’ That was certainly what she had been doing the past couple of weeks, abandoning all her responsibilities and promises to try and get over the fact that she’d just had her heart broken by the girl she was falling in love with who apparently couldn’t stand the fact that Quinn couldn’t say ‘I love you’ fast enough. The same girl who was standing in front of her right now.

“I’m peachy, Rachel,” she snapped without thinking. Did she seriously look okay? Did she not have fucking beautiful brown eyes to see?

Quinn sighed again and shook her head. She hadn’t meant to snap. “Sorry,” she muttered morosely before stepping aside to let Rachel in. “Come in.” Once Rachel was inside, she shut the door behind her and headed towards the kitchen to fix herself a glass of milk and something to eat. Anything to take away the awful, cottony feeling in her mouth.

As a poptart heated up in the microwave, Quinn reluctantly look through the notes Rachel had handed her. It didn’t look too difficult and maybe they didn’t need to interact as much with it. “I can just email you my part,” she said, flipping through a few more pages of meticulous notes. It would have brought a smile to her face any other time but now it just felt like a stab in the heart. “And as for Mr. Schue, one of the AV geeks can finish my job,” she shrugged, taking out the poptart from the microwave. There. That way they wouldn’t have to interact at all. She was sure that would be better overall and probably what Rachel wanted as well. 

It really wasn’t going to plan. The longer she stayed, the more convinced she became of the fact that Quinn Fabray did not want her. At all. Not even a little bit. She was snappy and where she quite clearly hadn’t put any effort into anything for weeks, she was now putting and extraordinary amount into not having to see Rachel. She wanted to leave. She wanted to stay and fix it. She didn’t know what she wanted.

“Poptarts are better in the toaster.” she said instead of anything else. Who microwaves poptarts anyway? “And emailing really isn’t as efficient as everybody believes. If it were, I would have emailed you the notes.” she argued because she had no better way of trying to get Quinn back into her life somehow. But arguing with Quinn was often impossible, and Rachel did have one last dirty trick up her sleeve. It was immoral and just plain cruel really but she when it came to winning, when did Rachel ever play fair?

She pulled her phone from the pocket in her bag, glancing over the blank screen. “Oh, Jesse wanted to see me ten minutes ago.” Lie. Giant lie. She had already turned him away once today. “I guess I should go, unless you have anything to say… about the project, maybe…” she said, grasping at straws. Please, just take the bait, give me something to work with. If Quinn was willing to let her go back to the boy who they both knew would willingly sweep her away to New York, she thought she’d lose all hope of Quinn caring in the slightest. Which was hypocritical in itself, because she couldn’t be with Quinn. She didn’t want to be with her. Except she did, and as it turns out, it’s quite hard to stop loving someone.

Still, with her phone in her hand, she implored Quinn to keep her there for a little longer, to prevent her from going off and falling in love with someone else.

Mountains and Molehills 

quinndelinquent:

Quinn’s head was throbbing from a hangover. Her body ached. Her cheek hurt. She was pretty sure she had a broken heart. All in all, it led to her not ever wanting to leave the comfort of her bed. But there was an insistent - no, hesitant…could knocks on the door be insistent and hesitant at the same time? She didn’t know but she desperately wanted it to stop so she could go the fuck back to sleep. But it didn’t stop and her headache grew even more painful.

“Goddammit,” she cursed as she pushed herself off from the bed, the guest bed since she was now temporarily staying in the guest bedroom while the broken window in her own bedroom was being fixed. A suicidal bird had rammed through it and that was the story she was sticking to. It wasn’t like she’d thrown one of her cameras out of it last week or anything like that. 

She walked gingerly towards the front door, wincing at all the light coming through and assaulting her eyes. The sun needed an off-switch, she grumbled internally, and whoever the fuck was knocking on the door needed to go the fuck away. Maybe it was a truancy officer or something lame like that, come to make her go back to school. Maybe it was the grim reaper to tell her that her life on earth was up. The way she was now, Quinn would gladly welcome the second one and knee the first in the balls. 

The mirror by the front door caught her eye and she cursed again. Goddamn, she looked like shit. Her hair was everywhere and she was still in the jeans she’d worn last night, slung low on her hips and an old tank top. There were dark circles under her eyes and a cut on her cheek from where her mom had…yeah…Quinn averted her eyes and reached for the door, ready to tell whoever it was to fuck off. “What the hell do you - ” She immediately fell silent as she registered who was on the other side of the door. Oh. Rachel. She was probably still dreaming then. Quinn heaved a sigh and leaned her head against the door, eyes fluttering shut as she told herself to wake up. No dice. Still, might as well find out what dream Rachel was here for. “What do you want?” she rasped, still wincing. If it was a dream and she knew it was a dream, she should be able to turn the sun off, right? 

Anybody else would have flinched at the less than welcoming way Quinn answered the door, but Rachel wasn’t anybody else, and Quinn was… Quinn used to be her antisocial bastard with an attitude, so it’s not like it was brand new or even upsetting to her. What was upsetting (startling, frightening, all kinds of ings) was the dark red cut on her otherwise pale cheek. Rachel stared for a second. Quinn had surpassed her usual carelessly-thrown-together look and crossed into the hungover-and-half-dead look.

“You haven’t been at school,” she replied evenly, unsure of what else to say. Where did she even start? “What’s wrong with your face?” she asked, fingers now itching to pull her closer instead, to inspect like she always did when Quinn did something dumb and got herself hurt, again. But usually it was her knuckles, which was mildly less frightening than her face. She couldn’t have done that to herself.

Rachel conceded defeat in that she wasn’t going to get out of here pretending like she didn’t care. But it was perfectly natural to care for an ex, right? Quinn had been her first, after all. Except justifying it made it hurt more, and her stupid heart wasn’t willing to buck up and see Quinn like this without wanting to kiss it better. She hated Quinn for that. It was her fault anyway. Why couldn’t she just love her back like any normal person would? Rachel was a great person to love. 

“We…” she sighed tiredly before she even got started. Her head hurt. Her heart hurt. Everything felt heavy and difficult. “We have a project. It was assigned two weeks ago.” from her bag, she produced color-coded notes and handed them to Quinn. “Some of it is research, some is just key notes to keep in mind for later.” Pause. She couldn’t look back up yet. Seriously, what happened to her face? Why did she look so tired? Was it a good thing that she was dressed, or had she been wearing those same jeans for a week? They looked good. “Mr. Schue wants you back. We have sectionals, regionals, maybe even nationals. You need to film that.” 

Finally, she looked up again, guard down for just a second. “Are you okay?”

Mountains and Molehills 

It was a Friday, two weeks after Rachel walked out of Quinn’s kitchen. It would be dramatic to say that she walked out of her life, but alas, the self-professed badass was nowhere to be seen. She had been absent from school, she hadn’t called, she hadn’t texted. She wasn’t even hanging around the choir room with her camera anymore, much to Mr. Schue’s irritable grumbling. On top of that, they had been assigned a project. As partners, for crying out loud. Of course. She tried to appeal to the hag of a teacher, explaining the situation with as much delicacy as she could, but she dismissed Rachel carelessly. A week later still with no sign of Quinn, Rachel approached again, and the only suggestion she got in return was “If the mountain won’t come to Muhammad…”

So there it was. Rachel’s bleak outlook. And being the girl she is, she had to slope over to the mountain’s house, leaving behind a curly haired boy who tried to kiss her. But who kisses someone with a broken heart anyway? Rachel didn’t know what to do at first, thrown for a loop by the new pair of lips on her own. She froze. She worried about everything all at once. Tears pricked behind her eyes. Had Quinn kissed somebody else? Were they really over? She’d let a part of herself believe that there was hope, that they were just… just taking time to sulk, or something. But of course, she knew that wasn’t true. If she allowed herself to think, just for a minute, she couldn’t see a way back for them even in the wildest corners of her imagination. And her heart hollowed out all over again.

Still, she pulled away from Jesse, looking down between them with one of her hands on his bigger one, cupping her jaw. Did she like it? She didn’t know. She figured she might understand after she knocked on the mountain’s door and faced the reality of them. If she could just see Quinn, see the faded streaks of pink in her otherwise blonde hair, and remember the flecks of green and brown in her hazel eyes, then she’d totally be able to kiss Jesse again. Right?

So here she was, armed with the excuse of their project and Mr. Schue’s whining to explain away why she had come crawling back with shifty feet and uncertain eyes and fingers itching to grip at one of Quinn’s older t-shirts the way they did when they hugged or kissed or just existed closely enough for Rachel’s greedy hands to do it. So she knocked, and she waited.

Breakfast at Fabray’s 

quinndelinquent:

Quinn had been making progress with herself. She was on her way to believing in happily ever afters and whispered ‘I love you’s and planning futures together and all those fluffy things that Rachel would have a field day teasing her about. Except Rachel, in her own misguided way, was apparently determined to derail the Quinn Fabray Express to Well-Adjustment. She still didn’t understand where all this was coming from. Hadn’t Rachel said she would wait? Or, her mood darkened further at the thought, had that been an empty promise? 

It was as if she was being trapped in a corner, each word backing Quinn further up against the wall with no attractive options in sight. Don’t say anything and Rachel would freak even more. Say the wrong thing and possibly break the relationship. And Rachel’s heart. And consequently, her own. 

She felt blindsided and cornered and hurt all at the same time and that was never a good cocktail of feelings when it came to Quinn. Especially when it came to Quinn. 

So she did the only the she thought she could do. She lashed back.

“What did you fucking expect, Rachel?” Quinn snapped, not even attempting to control the anger in her voice. She hated being put on the spot, she hated the way Rachel was acting as if she was the bad guy, she hated that Rachel had broken her promise to wait but most of all, she despised that she’d let herself actually think of happily ever after.

“Did you expect birds and rainbows and fucking frolicking in the woods? Did you expect that when you said it, it’d be as if none of the shit my parents put me through had ever happened? You’ve been surrounded by love your entire life, Rachel. What do you think I had?” Anger laced each vehement word and she’d abandoned her defensive stance, taking a step towards Rachel. Then another. Then another, until she’d backed the girl up against the counter again. Just like a few minutes ago but with entirely different emotions at play. 

Good, she thought with a sneer. See how she likes it. 

Well that was not an I love you. With her hands against the counter behind her, bracing herself, Rachel flinched away from Quinn’s harsh words right there in her face. Too close, Quinn’s hurt features were too much. She hadn’t seen her like this before. All of Rachel’s fight drained as soon as Quinn lashed back, loud and mean.

She pushed at Quinn’s shoulders, just enough for her to step back. She didn’t like it like this, trapped against the counter with Quinn sneering in her face.

“You’re surrounded by love now.” Rachel replied with an icy voice contradicting what she said, but they both knew it was true. And she wished it wasn’t sometimes, wished she’d fallen in love with someone who would just love her back without question. Someone dopey and two dimensional like Finn Hudson. But no, she had to fall in love with all those stupid complexities that made her incapable of loving somebody.  

But enough was completely enough now. She started picking up her things, her bag and various bits and pieces lying around. There was no reason for her to stay around anymore. Especially not when Quinn was in the mood to yell in her face, lash out about parents who weren’t as great as Rachel’s dads. Sure, she got that. And no, she didn’t think that her own love could make up for it or anything. She wasn’t that arrogant.

“I’m going.” she informed curtly. This time, no, she would not be staying. This wasn’t some stupid mistake, a slip when she wasn’t thinking. This was important, and she had been stupid enough to actually think Quinn would love her back or something. Stupid, naive Rachel Berry. Quinn wasn’t capable, was she? Not even capable of talking about it.

But before she stormed out of the room, she paused, looking up at Quinn.

“Do you want to be like your parents? Do you want to close off from any kind of feeling in your life?” she asked cruelly and stupidly, throwing comments out of her own hurt. But she was way past believing that one day Quinn might feel the same way anyway, and so she was lashing out too. If this was as far as they could go, then Rachel planned to quit while she was ahead, before she got too attached to let go. So with that, she turned to leave.

Breakfast at Fabray’s 

quinndelinquent:

Why hadn’t they done more of this before? Kissing. Just kissing. Because it felt nice. Great even. And then Rachel moaned against her, soft and breathy and Quinn thought, oh, that’s why. Because they always got too into it and sooner rather than later, they ended up fucking each other.  

Quinn didn’t want it to go that way, though. For whatever reason, she wanted to keep things light and simple for now, not turn it hot and heavy. They could - and no doubt, they would - get as hot and heavy as they liked later but for now, light. And simple. Except apparently Rachel had other ideas. 

She stiffened against her girlfriend at those words, her wandering hands stilling in shock and some fear. Where had that come from? Why was Rachel even - Quinn shook her head and disentangled herself from Rachel, pulling her hands back to her sides and stepping back. She leaned back against the opposite counter, massaging her temples. The question had come so out of left field, it was giving her a headache. And okay, maybe she was inwardly panicking too, because how could she honestly answer that without causing another fight?

“Wh-where did that come from?” she asked, crossing her arms across her chest defensively. And Quinn had thought she was the moment-ruiner of the two of them, not Rachel. They’d been having a moment, hadn’t they? With the kissing and the not automatically turning into sex? That was kind of a moment right? And she couldn’t imagine why Rachel was asking her that question now. 

So retrospectively, she could have timed it better. Like when they weren’t kissing. Or like, you know, never. But still, it was a legitimate concern! Rachel loved Quinn, she loved her a lot. And she told her a lot. She cried it out in the throes of passion and whispered it into kisses right after. So why couldn’t Quinn love her back? Why even fight so hard to feel loved when she didn’t even want to return that love? 

Quite frankly, Rachel thought it was selfish.

But Rachel was a firm believer in soulmates, in everything falling into place, and she had naively bought into this whole love thing. She thought Quinn was the one who’d give her little pink haired babies with severe attitude problems and a cutthroat approach to absolutely everything (but especially show choir.) So how come they didn’t fit? How come they were perfect in every way, but Quinn just could not love her? Was it simply a case of the two of them never really being designed for one another in the first place? 

Quinn had stepped away and folded her arms across her chest, forcefields engaged. An evasive answer to an invasive question, but a question she thought she had the right to ask. Rachel sighed and looked over the woman she loved. Because she did love her, right? Right?

“Where did it come from?” she repeated incredulously. “It comes from every time I tell you I love you and you say nothing. It comes from you asking me to push you and asking me not to stop saying it.” she said as evenly as her trembling voice would allow, trying to keep herself calm when she wanted little more than to rage and flail her arms above her head and shout in Quinn’s stupid pretty face. Her controlled voice barely concealed how angry she really was.

She mirrored Quinn’s defensive stance, crossing her own arms over her chest. She held onto her sides and felt way too small, but she held her ground, staring down the less than confident eyes of her girlfriend. Her girlfriend who looked undeniably uncomfortable, like she was fighting just to stay rooted to the ground and not just bolt from the room. Rachel supposed that counted for something, but not enough right now.

“So are you going to answer me?” she raised both eyebrows expectantly.