Disclaimer: So, no. I don't own Glee. If I did, Santana and Quinn would never leave THEIR bed, Finn would be in some third world country getting his head blown off by his own rifle, Sam's trouty lips would have their own zip code, and Rachel would be pregnant with Puckasaurus Rex's lovechild. Yeahh... XD
READ AND REVIEW PLEASE
Every eternity starts with an instant, that one moment in which your life truly begins. That moment can be planned to the letter, from the champagne to the flowers to the expensive chocolates. The best restaurant can be booked, the hair can be perfect as can the makeup, and a violinist can be playing a romantic melody that floats through the air and around your mind like a carousel. You can have everything perfectly planned, but life doesn't always work that way.
Your champagne may be bitter, the flowers may wilt, or the chocolates might be off. The restaurant may be fully booked; your hair may be rained out, as may your makeup. The violinist may be playing a sad, sad song that makes you want to weep in sorrow instead of bawl tears of joy. Sometimes, the best eternities are formed from whims and sudden ideas. A flash of euphoria that will bring clarity to the world that it lacked before. Sometimes, eternity will start with a simple moment of passion.
A tangle of sheets and limbs, giggles of joy breaking the quiet atmosphere of their apartment. Finally, once the giggling died down, the blonde lying on her back took the moment to admire her girlfriend. She couldn't help but grin down at the serene girl lying on her stomach between her legs. She stroked the head resting on her abs tenderly, tucking the slightly sweaty strands of charcoal behind her ears. She knew her own mess would resemble a newly awoken lion, but couldn't bring herself to care more than a quick swipe of a lazy arm over the tangled blonde locks. The lazy kisses being feathered on her still quivering abs was distracting to say the least, and aided her own adoration of her enemy come best friend come lover come girlfriend. In the soothing silence, her mind wandered to the beginning of their time – That one fateful day four years ago when Santana turned up out of the blue at her apartment, tears cascading down her face and staining her clothes with her misery. Her face saddened for a moment at the thought, and she allowed her mind to float back…
Four Years Ago
"…And Professor fucking Frankston decided to schedule assign us a freaking essay over the weekend to display the possible idea that anxiety can increase on the anniversary of a traumatic experience, and whether or not we agree with the statement! I mean, of course I fucking agree! I can't write a 2000 word paper on the fucking fact! Seriously Conner, why weren't you there today? I wanted to shoot myself in the face through the entire class! I fucking hate you!" A 19-year-old Quinn Fabray ranted into the phone, stepping around someone's scattered books on the sidewalk. She adjusted her sunglasses on her head, pulling them down over her eyes to shield them from the scorching Connecticut sun as she ambled towards her apartment, relief surging through her that the day was finally over. Without her newly acquired friend in the class beside her, mocking the balding prehistoric professor every time his back turned to write something else boring and conceited in his dusty white chalk on the obviously used board.
"I'm sorry Q-ball, but it's not like you wanted me in class if I would be blowing chunks all over your expensive shoes and color coded notes." The boy laughed, the illness obvious in his voice. Quinn simply rolled her eyes at his joke, but couldn't help the quirk of her lip. She knew he was right; her anal study habits a near constant source of entertainment for him. She stepped over a crack in the sidewalk and nodded a greeting to a girl she knew from her improv class.
"Whatever, would've been better than having Vivien shushing me every time I moved my chair back. Please let me knock her out dude…" She whined about the irritating girl in their class; the teachers' pet that literally brought the professor an apple every day. Quinn could never keep the visuals of stabbing the dark-haired girl with her pen from her mind every time she saw her stupid penny loafer shoes or her ridiculously over-formal pencil skirt and blazer. "I want to cut the bitch. Seriously." She growled.
The boy on the other end chuckled again, shaking his head as he coughed from his unmade bed.
"Look Quinn, unless you wanna…" Quinn, without willing it, stopped listening at that point. No, she was not just being a really bad friend, she simply saw something that made her thoughts fly away from her, and to the black beat up pickup out the front of her apartment. There was something strikingly familiar about that car, but for whatever reason, she couldn't place it in her mind.
"Hey Con?" She interrupted the boys' advice, to which he rolled his eyes and nodded despite her inability to see him. "I'll call you back later…" She hung up before her heard a response, and pocketed the cell phone. She secured the strap to her sling bag on her shoulder and walked towards her building, taking out her key and walking into the lobby. She glanced around suspiciously, still on edge by the sight of the truck, before grabbing her mail from the little cubbyhole. She pulled off her sunglasses and hooked them into the neck of her t-shirt, flicking through the junk and various menus for different restaurants. She had a collection now, and always knew the best place for any occasion. She shook her head at the few repeats she had, before reading one on the new pizza place to open downtown. She started walking slowly up the stairs as she read, before looking up and glancing around.
She had no idea where it was coming from, but her ears were picking up quite sobs from somewhere in the building. What concerned her more than the sound itself was how it was gradually growing louder the close to her apartment on the almost top floor she became. Also, there was again that sense of déjà vu, like she'd heard the exact weeping before, once upon a time. She reached the 6th floor, where her apartment lay at the end of the hall, and suddenly something clicked in her mind.
That damn truck… She thought, her ideas flying. The damn truck that broke down on the way to Cheer camp junior year… The truck that I helped put the down payment on… The truck that we crashed into the back of Sue's LeCar and screamed so loud the airbags went off... That damn truck... Those sobs could only belong to one person... Before the last thought was even fully formed in her mind she was off at a sprint down the hall, and down on her knees beside the prone form curled up against the apartment door.
"Tana?" She whispered, her voice full of sorrow as she reached out and pulled the girls body against her own, cuddling the hysterical brunette into her and stroking her hair soothingly. "Shhh... I've got you..." She cooed.