a/n: Let it be known that I finished this at 2:31 AM. I was working on it all day, and I made an attempt at editing it afterwards. I hope it's halfway as decent when I'm fully awake as it is while I'm reading it sleepy!drunk. For shaloved30 and nerd4music who both have far too much faith in my abilities.

2010

"We can't be friends anymore," Quinn's hands tightened around her half empty brown coffee mug, and a perfectly manicured thumb stroked the lipstick stained rim absently, "I'm really sorry Mercy—Mercedes."

Mercedes could feel the corners of her mouth twitch slightly, but she attempted to keep her face stoic.

"Okay…"

The blonde's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and she learned forward in her seat, "Okay? That's it?"

"What else do you want me to say, Quinn?" The shorter brunette responded. Suddenly aware of their close proximity, she leaned back against the seat. She convinced herself that it made the sting a little less intense when they weren't too close.

An expression flashed across Quinn's face at the movement, but she couldn't quite catch it in time before her face settled on mild annoyance.

"I at least thought, I don't know," she searched the quiet café for her next words, "I thought that you'd say something…else."

It hurt far more to say it than she was willing to convey, but she'd been waiting all summer for the other shoe to drop. Things were too calm, their relationship was too comfortable. They'd fallen into their own routine of teen domesticity, with baking in the afternoon and singing together while cooking breakfast. When the depression kicked in, Mercedes was there to listen in comfortable silence. When Mercedes was feeling less than excellent, Quinn quickly came to reassure her that no one could take her beauty and strength away from her. They would lie on the floor talking about nothing for hours, or just listening to the sounds of summer life passing by below the open bedroom window.

Things changed.

Suddenly Mercedes found herself lingering on her fingers far too long when they innocently held hands, and she couldn't sleep properly unless the room was filled with Quinn's gentle snores. She suddenly noticed the smallest things about her: like the freckles on her nose and the way she crinkled that nose whenever Mercedes told a purposely terrible joke. Or the way her eyes had flecks of gold in them that seemed to reflect the summer sunshine peeking through the blinds when they woke up to watch the sunrise. She began to fall in love with the way she happily wiggled in her seat when they ate at the dinner table, and the soft rasp of her voice when she hummed with a song on the radio.

And it made everything complicated.

As much as Quinn told her that she was happy being where she was— surrounded by loving people, and a place she could call home—Mercedes knew that she felt left out. Every so often, she'd catch Quinn attempting to do the cheer motions in her bedroom mirror. Eventually, the blonde graduated to practicing her flips on the trampoline in their backyard.

She felt guilty for being so selfish; as happy as she was about Quinn getting her strength and confidence back, Mercedes also knew that the relationship they had before the pregnancy wasn't too far away from becoming reality once more. When she accepted that Quinn was going back to her old ways, she felt herself becoming fearful that she'd lose someone she was actually beginning to really care about.

The other shoe dropped, just like she thought it would. Just like it always did.

And typically, the brunette would just shake it off and move on with her life; but things were different now, because for the first time in her life she gave a shit. And that scared the hell out of her. All she felt was anger that she let herself feel…whatever it was she was feeling. She should've known. But a part of her hoped that things would be different, because Quinn WAS different.

But maybe she wasn't. Maybe she was exactly the same.

So the two girls sat in the thinning café, with Quinn avoiding eye contact and talking in circles in an attempt to circumvent the giant elephant in the room.

"Can I ask something?" Mercedes finally asked, forcing Quinn to look directly at her, "Was this your plan all along? To pretend to be my friend—"

"I wasn't pretending—"Quinn said, reaching out her hand.

Mercedes pulled her own hand back.

"Fine, whatever. To be my 'friend' until you got back on your feet and then drop me like I'm nothing? I really want to know." The brunette felt her face heating up as she tried to calm herself down, "Because if that's true, it would've saved me a lot of trouble if you just told me from the beginning. Maybe then I wouldn't have been so stupidly optimistic thinking that you genuinely cared."

"Mercedes, I do care! You know I do!" She exclaimed. Her hazel eyes widened, and Mercedes pushed away the sudden rush of something in her chest. "I just…we can't be friends anymore, because I care about you too much."

"That doesn't make any sense, Quinn. You don't dump your friends just because you care about them too much. That's what you're supposed to do."

"That's not what I mean," she said between gritted teeth, "I mean, I can't be friends with you because it's—it feels wrong."

The words hit Mercedes like a blow to the chest, and the defensive levees came crumbling down.

"It feels wrong." Mercedes repeated in a hoarse whisper. "I already know why," she continued, matter-of-factly, while choosing to sit up a little straighter in her chair, "You don't want your Cheerio friends to know that you're hanging out with the fat, black glee nerd. It'd ruin your reputation, and you're trying to work on building it back to what it was. I totally get it. Really."

Deep down, Mercedes hoped it wasn't true. In fact, she purposely exaggerated and she wasn't sure why she set herself up to be burned.

"That's…that's not why. How could you even think that?"

"Because you thought that way before."

"But that was BEFORE I…" she drifted off and squeezed the ceramic mug once more before placing it down on the wooden table.

"Before you got to know me," Mercedes finished for her, "I know. That's usually how it goes. But clearly it didn't make much of a difference. Because your perception of me hasn't changed. Now I'm the fat, black glee nerd that was nice to you when you were feeling like shit. That's it, isn't it?"

Mercedes' voice cracked at the end of her statement, quickly pulling all of the power out of it. She swallowed the lump in her throat down with a quick gulp of tea. But she couldn't stop her hand from shaking. She wanted, desperately, for Quinn to tell her that she was wrong. That she was overreacting, and that it wasn't like that at all. But all she got was silence.

More silence.

Quinn's eyes shifted from past Mercedes, to the mug, to her lap, back to the wall behind Mercedes' head. And the more she avoided looking at her, the more she wanted to smack the mug out of her hand.

"Isn't it?!" Mercedes exclaimed, causing a few heads to turn in their direction.

"Mercy, please…"

"Tell me!"

Staring down into her mug once more, Quinn swallowed hard.

"I just can't be friends with you. I don't want to be friends anymore." She locked eyes with her, "It won't work. It's not…normal for me to be so close to you. I—what will they say? I'm not strong enough to go through it again, Mercy."

She finally broke, completely tired of the bullshit. Unable to look at the girl sitting across from her. She gathered her purse and pushed away from the table.

"Good luck with your cheerleading tryouts," the brunette mumbled, "I'm sure you'll fit in just fine."

2011

Quinn sat outside of the Jones home, gripping the steering wheel for dear life. She considered pulling away and just calling Mercedes from home. Would she answer? She wasn't altogether sure. In all honesty, she wasn't completely sure why she thought it'd be a good idea to drive over to Mercedes' house, unannounced, with very few words of reassurance. Hell, she barely knew what was happening. All she knew was that Sam was gone and that Mercedes was hurting. And just like the impulsive bitch Quinn was, that's all she needed to know in order to drop everything and just go without having any idea how to explain her desire to be there in the first place. She recognized Kurt's car in the Jones' driveway and quickly brushed off the minor irritation at the fact that she wasn't the first to make it to the house.

Based on what she'd seen, though, Kurt had something to prove just like she did. The only reason he was there first was because he was quick to pick up the latest gossip. She weakly convinced herself that Mercedes would accept Quinn graciously, but she remained wary. They were on better terms. But terms so strong that they could have heart to hearts like they used to? Probably not.

Still.

She sighed deeply and put the car in park, telling herself that the worst Mercedes could do was tell her to leave. Yeah, it'd hurt. But after last summer, she could understand it. Quinn contemplated using the spare key in the mini porch lantern to open the door; she reconsidered, realizing that she didn't exactly have that privilege anymore no matter how many times Mercedes swore otherwise. The gentle summer breeze swept her skirt across her knees and her hair brushed the corner of her mouth. She knew she looked absolutely foolish with her hand raised to the door, mid knock. Finally, Quinn's knuckles rapped on the polished wood, and her heartbeat immediately began thumping in her ears.

The few seconds she spent standing on the threshold of the Jones household felt like hours.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

She'd almost turned and walked back to her when the door slowly cracked open to reveal a red-eared, pale faced Kurt; his jaw remained clenched in what she assumed to be frustration, and his fist remained clenched at his side.

"Can I help you?"

Quinn straightened her back and brushed her hair behind her ear, exuding that false sense of confidence that seemed to work so effortlessly in situations like these.

"I heard about Sam. I want to make sure that she's alright."

Kurt raised a single brow, but backed away from the doorway to allow her passage.

Mercedes lay curled up on the living room couch, wrapped in a thick white blanket, staring at the wall. Her round, tear streaked cheeks were flushed red and she didn't even bother to look up when Quinn entered the room.

"She's taking it a lot harder than I thought she would. I've never seen her like this," Kurt whispered beside her after shutting the door, "She won't talk to me. She won't even look at me."

If Quinn didn't know better, she'd be super concerned about this new development. But she also knew that Kurt and Mercedes hadn't been on the best of terms. Just as she assumed, Kurt was there because he was in the same boat as her: desperately trying to make amends for a major fuck-up.

"How did you know?"

Kurt motioned with his cell phone, "Word spread fast. I called 'Cedes to see how she was holding up and she wouldn't answer my calls." He paused, "Not that she was before…"

He drifted off and shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other, a telltale sign of guilt. Guilt they both shared, she would admit. But she was more determined to hide it under these circumstances.

"I'm…I'll go wait outside," he murmured in defeat, dragging himself through the front door and closing it softly behind him.

Quinn sat beside Mercedes on the plush gray couch, making sure to leave some space between them.

"Mercedes?" Quinn prodded gently, "Do you want to talk about it?"

The brunette parted her full, brown lips, and her chest started heaving slowly in an attempt to catch her breath.

She added, "We—you don't have to talk now, if you don't want to."

She stared straight ahead as if she hadn't spoken, but continued to breathe short, quick breaths in an attempt to calm down. A few tears rolled down her cheeks, betraying her calmness. Her small brown hand clenched the blanket in a fist.

"Is there something wrong with me?" She asked. Her voice sounded so small and vulnerable, and it took everything in Quinn's power not to kiss the tears from her cheeks. Anything to stop the hurt she felt. And though it had nothing to do with it, she felt like it was her responsibility to stop it.

She had to.

"No," Quinn quickly responded, reaching for her hand. She visibly tensed up, but allowed the interaction without fully acknowledging it. "There's nothing wrong with you."

She hesitated, then gently brushed a curl from Mercedes' face. But Mercedes swallowed hard and continued the intense stare ahead. More tears fell, staining the blanket around her shoulders. Her breath shuddered as she parted her lips again. And in the softest whisper, she asked,

"Then why do people keep leaving?"

And in that moment, the weight of her words words crushed the air from Quinn's lungs, and her heart dropped into her stomach.

"Mercedes, if people leave it's not your fault. You know Sam didn't want to leave, it just kind of happened."

"But why does it happen to me?" Mercedes cried, finally addressing Quinn for the first time.

Her words escaped in the form of a choked sob and Quinn reached out to caress her face, "Look at me. You've done nothing wrong."

Mercedes roughly pulled her face from Quinn's hands and moved to the other side of the couch, "Please don't lie to try and make me feel better."

"I'm not lying!"

"You told me that being my friend felt wrong! What if everyone else feels that way too? What if you were the only one honest enough to tell me the truth?"

Quinn could feel the heat rising in her face, and she angrily grabbed a fistful of her hair and stood up to pace back and forth, "That's not what I meant! There's nothing wrong with you! There's everything wrong with me!"

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means I fucking love you, Mercedes!" Quinn shouted at her, covering her face with her hands, "There's nothing wrong with you. But…I can't be friends with you. I'm not supposed to…I'm emotionally fucked up and confused. I can't drag you into this. I just can't."

The heavy silence that followed made Quinn uncomfortable, and she wanted Mercedes to say something, anything to make it better. Instead, the dark skinned girl stared at her with something resembling both hurt and anger in her eyes.

"So for a full year, you made me believe that it was my fault? All because you were too scared to be honest with me? Quinn, I had your back for so long…how could you do this to me?"

Quinn opened her mouth to speak, but closed it.

"You know what the worst part of all of this is?" Mercedes added sadly, "If you'd just told me, we could've worked through it together. Because I love you, too." She paused, "Or at least I did. I'm not so sure if I do anymore. When I try to move on with someone new, you just decide that you want to come back into my life and make things complicated again. And I hate that about you. "

The blonde felt another blow to the stomach. And as she tried to find the words to make Mercedes stop hurting, she knew that it was out of her hands.

Mercedes turned her back to Quinn and hugged her knees, "Please, go."

"'Cedes–"

"Just stop it, Quinn! Okay? Stop it!"

She curled up on her side once more.

Quinn glanced over at her small form one last time before leaving and closing the door behind her.

2020

Once upon a time, Quinn Fabray felt a sense of power in the way McKinley High followed her every move and worshiped the ground she walked on. When everything else went to shit, at least she had the promise of obsession to make her feel like she was wanted. And even after the disillusionment kicked in and people began realizing that she was just as broken and fucked up—perhaps even more so—as they'd heard, she still had the outsiders who knew very little about her circumstances. They just knew that she was pretty, intelligent, and out of their league.

As squeaky clean and polished as the McKinley hallways were, they were still tainted to her. She'd had some of the best and worst moments of her life in these halls, and each tile seemed to have their own story.

"If these walls could talk," she laughed softly to herself.

"What do you think they'd say?"

Quinn knew the voice like she knew her own heartbeat; soft, melodic, a twinge of laughter around the edges. She chewed on the corner of her mouth and leaned against the nearest locker.

"They'd ask, 'What mistakes are you here to rectify now, Miss Fabray?'"

Mercedes Jones' heels clicked along the linoleum floors, and she rested her hands on her thick, denim clad hips.

"I didn't realize McKinley was your own personal confessional," she teased, "Should I come back another time?"

Without a second thought, the blonde tenderly reached for her small wrist and swept her hand down to lock their fingers together.

"Please, stay."

Mercedes' grin softened into something sweeter, and she nodded.

"Okay."

They found themselves sitting with their backs to the wall and their legs laced together, in complete silence. They had everything to talk about, but at the same time nothing at all. Because talking meant going back to all the things they'd been too afraid to address as teenagers. Because feelings got swept up in the drama, and the lies, and the evasion. Because panic and confusion left broken promises between them, some so severely damaged that it left jagged pieces to pick back up, little by little, in the years following.

No matter how far they separated, and how many people they were with, they still somehow ended up sitting up against a wall with tangled limbs and countless unspoken declarations between them.

It felt comfortable. It felt real.

"Q," Mercedes interrupted Quinn's thoughts, "What are you thinking about?"

Reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from the corner of Mercedes' mouth, Quinn allowed her fingers to linger along her soft, brown cheek, "You're so beautiful."

She noticed the way Mercedes' teeth latched onto her lower lip, and she unconsciously bit her own. She felt cathartic; every feeling she'd been bottling up for 10 years, finally spilling out of her in the form of bold—yet, subtle—action. Mercedes rested her forehead against Quinn's and sighed deeply, and Quinn could feel her deep dark eyes reading every inch of her like a familiar book; she would never grow tired of the wonder in her eyes when she looked at her. With Mercedes Jones, there was never any disillusionment even when the truth lay bare and raw for the world to see. Long ago, it frightened her to her core, because it was the first time someone had power over her and didn't even know it. Now that everything was falling into place, they were meeting in the middle once again where it all began.

Quinn tried to recall a moment when she felt more at peace.

"I love you so much," Mercedes sighed, "So damn much."

She heard the girl giggle softly beside her, which brought a smile to her face.

"I love you too," the blonde leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips, "And I promise I'm not going anywhere without you."