Sudden bout of teenage angst? You guessed it!
The song 'Duet' by The Airborne Toxic Event was being played as I write this. I swear, that song makes me sad.
In the small town called Lima, Ohio, a woman is walking along the pathway that surrounds her alma mater. The length of the grass tickles her bare ankles as she watches the sun melt behind the clouds, the wind spreading gossip with the trees' leaves. She begins to whistle a soft tune while she rounds along the main walkway that leads to the football field. The heels of her flats skid along the concrete, and she immediately feels at home, whatever that could mean.
She continues to hum, annoyed by the song that is festering in her head. She does not know all of the words, but for the one line that seems to burn and infuse deep in her veins.
"Q-Quinn?" A voice calls out to her, and immediately she snaps towards the echo of the all-too familiar voice that haunts her every waking moment. "Quinn Fabray?"
"Rachel," Quinn says, her lungs contracting a mile a minute. "It's been too long."
"It's so nice to see you." The show face that Quinn has been accustomed to from the televised interviews and the Broadway magazines did not appear. Instead, the smile that lingers on Rachel's full lips is tender, almost laced with regret. But Quinn knows better than to think too much of it. The brunette approaches her, cautiously, as if Quinn is an endangered animal and Rachel is the photographer.
"What are you doing in Lima?" Quinn asks as they walk side by side down the sidewalk. They reach the grand expanse of the football field and immediately, nostalgia hits for both parties.
"Visiting my dads mostly," Rachel says. "But I just had a meeting of sorts with Mr. Schuester. He asked me if I could talk to this year's glee club about our experiences and things." She looks up Quinn who is looking far, far ahead. "What about you?"
"Vacation," Quinn says. They begin to walk towards the street once more, where they pass the flagpole where the jocks hung Jacob Ben Israel once upon a time. Neither is unaware of their destination until they stop before Rachel's car. Fuel-efficient, of course.
"Well, I better get going." Rachel opens the car doors, eyeing Quinn with such an intimate curiosity that Quinn feels the need to grab her by the waist and pull her close so that she would stop staring with her eyes and to explore with her lips instead. "Do you want a ride?"
"No thanks," Quinn replies, opening the driver's door for Rachel. "I rather walk."
"If you say so." Rachel smiles as she enters her car. "Can we meet up? Before you leave, would you like to have coffee with me?"
"Okay,"
"You have my number?"
Quinn nods. "Unless you changed it, I do."
"It's the same. Goodbye Quinn."
She can't help but be reminded of the exact same scene when Rachel used the exact same words. "Goodbye, Rachel"
/
The streets of Lima can be too much for Quinn to handle, especially after seeing Rachel again. Her brown hair, still thick and taken care of, the caressing softness of her voice, and the way the light snags against her wooden eyes never fails to send Quinn into rapture.
Every street corner that Quinn passes by reminds her of too much. Being a popular head cheerleader, dating the star quarterback, being pregnant with his best friend's baby, being a glee club nerd… It was her past; she's done with all those things. But it defined her. Carved her into this melancholic twenty-something year old who has the penchant for words and silent looks metaphorically-infused with deeper meaning.
Every street corner, Quinn hears it whisper that beautiful name.
Rachel, Rachel.
Like a song, or a drunken slur; a moan in the throes of passion, burning deep inside her gut. A car whizzes by, but Quinn doesn't notice. She is far too consumed by thoughts and past promises.
/
When Quinn returns to her childhood home, she sees Judy Fabray sitting on the couch, perusing a magazine on her lap. She enters with the ninja stealth that she mastered through the years, tip-toeing and pushing attention away. Quinn is the mistress of such skill.
In her room, it is dark. The sun long gone, Quinn falls flat on top of the sheets, her heart beating, still. After seeing Rachel, she is pretty sure that her star will take the best of her with that vegetable car of hers. But she didn't. Quinn doesn't know whether to be sad or relieved.
Probably the former.
She remembers the first week after their failed relationship. They were in college, swamped by school work and auditions and part-time jobs. It eventually became too much, and with a tearful farewell and three reams of lined paper later, Quinn was on her bed, counting away the seconds from her body.
Questions filled her head: should I write Rachel a letter or something? Should I call her tonight? Should I talk to her ever again, or am I not to worth it for her to care?
Even now, these questions linger, like a disease slowly bringing Quinn to mental deterioration. She remembers the past, she rethinks the future. It is an endless cycle, but it never does get old.
In the end, it all boils down to being afraid.
Of what, Quinn knows only too well.
/
They meet up two days after they saw each other again. Two days where Quinn spent it bouncing her knee and staring at the phone on her desk. Two days where Quinn scrolls to Rachel's name, watching the way the light surrounds the letters that comprises of the girl. Two days, until she manages to swallow down enough sorrow and past regrets and just call.
They talk about things that stand on neutral ground. Careers. Plans. Vacation locations.
But it all melts down to the discussions of their shared past: reminiscent memories, destructive forces that drove them together and then apart. And now, together again.
"I'm so glad I'm over you," Rachel smiles as she reaches over the bar to take three sugar packets and three small cups of the pre-packaged 2% cream. Quinn wonders if this comment is meant to be playful, teasing and as a mild joke between past lovers. If so, it hurt. "I like your shoes, by the way."
Quinn returns the smile, but hers is rougher around the edges. Who can blame her, when the only girl she ever loves—and still does—says something so casual and so unforgiving like that? Quinn feels so strangled, quite unsure what to say next. But like all sad things, it all comes naturally for her. "I know what you mean," she says softly. "And it's weird for me too."
Her pale knuckles enclose around her coffee cup and Quinn tries to drink. Her hands are trembling far too much, but instead of running away like how her sixteen-year old self would do, she grins and bears it. Rachel does not notice.
Quinn knows that if she has Rachel, she would finally run out of words to say.
In her line of work, that is not a good thing.
So she keeps her distance and wishes for the best.
/
What transpires afterwards is something Quinn never saw coming. Like a hurricane or a tsunami, or a kiss from your past lover. Rachel pushes Quinn against the side of her car with the assault of lips against lips, shattering Quinn's insides like an unplanned firebomb. The metal freezes the small of her back, but the heat of Rachel's hands against her hips make up for that.
They fly to Rachel's house, his dads away for antique-shopping. Backs crash against doors and walls, hands travel against fabrics and underneath shirts, until Quinn and Rachel are in the peace and stillness of Rachel's butter yellow room. Quinn stands before her, staring, watching, but most of all, wanting. Wanting to touch, to whisper words she only longs to speak.
Rachel reaches for her hand to draw Quinn to her, and she is, like a bee on a flower petal, or rain against skin. Quinn watches Rachel fall to her bed, and Quinn allows the urge to fall to her knees take over her.
"Quinn," Rachel will say, in that tone that is demanding and pleading and loving all at once. "Please?"
The blonde is in no mood to tease, so she gives the woman that is both above and below her what she needs.
It is a flurry of passionate activity. Hands going to places that it once travelled on before, lips on lips and skin on skin. Everything is a reflection of the past they once shared, and Quinn… Quinn is aware of all the things that are running through her mind right now.
She wants Rachel. In any limit that she can have her.
But see, the thing is, she can't. Not now, not before, not ever. As Quinn drives Rachel to their desired destination, watching her face contort in morbid pleasure, she ditches the mere thought of waking up to the sight of the slumbering queen, burrowed within fluffy pillow clouds, her bare shoulder ripe for the kissing.
/
Quinn smiles while Rachel watches her adore every crevice of the tanned body before her. She can't let Rachel know any of the contents in her head, especially right now. What is conspiring between them at the very moment is temporary, and she knows that. She knows, that, but whoever said that it would make it hurt less?
She wants to stay, really she does. But her past haunts her, like a bridge that would never collapse. No matter how much gasoline she would pour along the planks and the amount of lit matches that she throws, it just won't burn. Quinn picks herself up, and then her clothes.
Rachel looks at her with understanding and sadness in her eyes as she covers up her nakedness. She has words dangling against her mouth and the desire to vomit it out all at once is a fight that Rachel is rapidly losing.
Quinn thinks that they never did belong together.
But that doesn't mean that she can't picture them in love and happy, right?
/
When Quinn leaves through the front door on her own, she harbours nothing but the same feelings as she did when she walked in. The way her heart twists and contorts in the oddest way is proof of that. She didn't let Rachel walk her down because Quinn knows that she is weak.
The sun is still high overhead, but Quinn pictures it dawning behind her. Walking away from Rachel's childhood home, she compares it to walking from Rachel above all else, and perhaps it is for the best. The wind kisses her cheek, and for a moment, the loneliness makes the air smell sweeter.
Quinn begins to hum again, and this time, she remembers the song.
It was a duet.
And I miss you but it might just be this song.
I was going to work on City Love last weekend but... hehe, you see, I started playing Bioshock I. Cool game! And I promise I'll update CL soon. Next week?