I'm mostly a reader, but I liked this idea and actually went through with it. So yeah, hi. Angsty one shot, because I apparently love to suffer.
And no, not making any money out of this, I wish.
A/N: Also, English is just a second language, so feel free to point out any mistakes so I can get better, thank you.
Quinn had always prided herself on being very rational. She learned the hard way that emotions always took you to bad places, so she started putting her feelings on hold every time she faced a hard situation, and channeled that energy into thinking the most logical way of resolving it. That's how she got herself to college, how she followed through her goals, how she maintained some clarity and sanity after everything she'd been through.
But for all her rationality, she didn't know why she kept dreaming of Rachel. She shouldn't, there was no particular reason or cause for her thoughts. They hadn't talked in years, slowly losing contact, easily forgetting the quiet excitement they had in their first months of college. Her rational side told her that it was normal, their story was being repeated all over the country: good friends who care about each other want to stay in touch, but college, life, new friends and school work keeps them apart, until one day they try to write an email and have no subject in common. Only the throbbing sensation of those past days, when laughing felt lighter.
It never hurt her that badly, it was just this gradual pressing in her chest that reminded her that things used to be simpler and better, and that it wasn't going to be the same again.
But she was used to it now. 'No matter how hard you might want something, things never go as expected', her brain reminded her all the time. And so she focused on the day by day. On building the things she could with the materials she had at hand.
x
She was fine, she was content, she was safe. She always liked that, being safe. She treasured it. Emotionally, it was a new sensation for her. She was never safe from the shame of her family, safe from the painful words from her father, safe from her self-hatred for giving her baby away, safe from the distance her mother set between them. Safe was a privilege, it was something that she didn't take for granted, but had to work for it, so she held it close to her and bathed in the security that coursed through her when she felt strong arms wrap around her.
She didn't make herself emotionally unavailable; she enjoyed his company, liked being around him. She genuinely laughed at his jokes and listened to his rants. She enjoyed sleeping with him, and pecked him on the lips throughout the day. She felt lucky, he was a good guy, and she loved him. She could see herself getting married and having kids. She knew how it all would play out, and she didn't feel half as terrified as she thought she'd be.
x
But she still dreamed of her, of walking around with their hands clasped together. Sometimes the dreams were really detailed and ridiculous, in the way that they might be walking to the moon and still would feel very real. She would see Rachel's mouth moving and learn by heart every word, only to forget them in the morning. Sometimes they were just a blur of sensations, of feeling skin and breaths, of memorizing the tingles provoked by wandering fingers and pouty lips.
They all left her drained in the morning, and sometimes when she kissed him, she had a flashback of what was on her mind very recently, and had to stop and blink, had to collect herself.
'A flashback of an imaginary situation barely signifies anything'.
She dismissed it with that thought, time and time again, and assumed it was just some deep longing that was never fulfilled and eventually it would pass and lose its impact. Everybody had some of those, didn't they? And so she kept going with her days.
X
But they always returned, and she was no big dreamer.
(at least not in real life)
She knew how the story ended; life was no big fairy tale. She valued being safe too much. She couldn't (wouldn't) sacrifice the stability to go chase an idea she got from a dream a few times. Yes, she felt calm and oddly blissful when she was wrapped around Rachel in her mind, but that could easily be minimized and accusations against the ideas her brain was concocting would be thrown, what with assigning insignificant dreams a meaning much more profound than necessary.
And when she walked down the street and sometimes caught a sniff of a familiar perfume, she had to pause again and blink, taking a moment to collect and remind herself that it was just a stupid memory and that the pressure in the pit of her stomach was normal. That it didn't mean anything more than the reminder of someone who her mind apparently idolized.
x
No matter how frequent or intense her dreams were she didn't budge an inch. She was being rational. Nobody ran away from stability to try, just try.
She had been on the cliff for so many years of her life, trying to grasp onto something that made her feel anchored to a place, to someone, but instead all she had felt was instability. She couldn't go through something like that again, she would stay still, covered, like a child burrowed under a blanket that supposedly kept all the monsters away.
After all, she knew how it all would turn out; she had always been very rational and good at undermining her feelings. It had always been preferable to think first and feel later.
(The only examples she had of doing the opposite were bad enough to have caused scars).
But for all her rationality, she still didn't know why. And sometimes, when she closed her eyes at night in bed, Rachel's face was the last thing that crossed her mind, before being pulled to the momentary wonderland where she could feel that soft skin, without escaping the safe cocoon she'd stay in for the rest of her life. And it was enough to feel safe, even if in dreams.