She sat laxly on her sofa, delicately fingering the stem of her glass of Pinot Grigio. It was her third of the evening, but as usual, she ignored the warm buzz and kept her attention fixed on the old, crackly, 1940 film that was playing on her television in which a little wooden puppet dreamed of being a real boy.
It was only about eight in the evening, but Quinn had come home early, changed into her PJs, switched off all the lights and settled down in her living room to watch Pinocchio for the fourth time that week.
It was only Tuesday.
She knew she had a lifestyle that ought not to be taken for granted, but every now and then she needed down time to escape from the busy life she led and ignore her troubles for a few days. Although this humdrum had now become routine and Quinn hadn't been to work in two weeks.
"When you wish upon a star," Quinn echoed the melodic song under her breath as a lone tear rolled down her cheek. She didn't think she'd ever grow tired of watching Pinocchio's wishes come true when it allowed her to revive the nights when her and Rachel had snuggled up on the sofa and fallen into the countless fairytales brought to life by Disney.
She'd fallen so deep tonight that she didn't hear the key slot into her apartment door and she didn't hear it close after her roommate walked in. Quinn was too busy reliving heartbreaking memories through the fictional characters on her TV to notice her roommate walking towards her. She jumped a little when a hand ruffled her hair playfully and a body flew over the sofa to join her. The glass in her hand was quickly snatched away and emptied in one gulp.
"Why the fuck are you drinking again?" Santana crossed her legs over Quinn's lap and sprawled out on the rest of the sofa. Quinn watched the empty wine glass dangle between Santana's fingers and scowled, making a point not to dignify her with a response. Her silence didn't go unnoticed by the Latina, who lifted her head to get a better look at Quinn's face.
She rolled her eyes when she saw her grimacing at her and placed the glass on the coffee table in front of them. She couldn't help but notice the rather extensive collection of Disney DVDs that were scattered over the rest of the table and on the carpet. She let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose in attempt to control her natural impulse to lash out.
"You know you're being really fucking stupid," was the best she could do.
Quinn dug her elbow into Santana's calf and folded her arms petulantly. "And you're being really fucking mean."
"Mean?" Santana tried to hold back her smile, but drunk Quinn was most entertaining. Her choice of words contrasted so extraordinarily with sober Quinn's that it could have been a different person all together. It was like being plummeted back into middle school, before Quinn started reading dictionaries for fun.
"Look, honey. I know that you're upset, but drinking your sorrows away and watching this is only going to get you a mother of a headache." She didn't bother mentioning that it would only make the pain worse because at this point, she wasn't sure it was possible. Santana sat up properly and looked Quinn in the eye. "It's not going to bring her back."
She turned her attention the fairy on the screen and frowned sadly at the realization that Quinn wouldn't be near any kind of emotional recovery any time soon. She was watching freaking Pinocchio for crying out loud. Yet another Disney film that was filled with misconceptions about how wishing upon stars meant all your dreams would come true.
Santana knew it was crap, because she'd watched Quinn wish for Rachel – a self-proclaimed star – to take her back for the past two weeks to no avail; and she'd been left with the pieces.
Still, it was just about the only thing giving Quinn hope at the moment and she wasn't cruel enough to take that away from her, even if they both knew it would hit harder once she ran out of Disney movies to watch.
Quinn averted her gaze and rubbed her eyes anxiously. She wasn't drinking because she was sad, she just wanted to drink.
It had nothing to do with the fact that her heart was broken and she was devastatingly lonely. She twisted the silver band on her finger and swallowed the lump in her throat at the thought that it's pair could be at the bottom of the ocean, or stuck in the drain of a bathtub, or down a New York sewer hole.
She hadn't a clue, though she hoped more than anything that it was still on the hand of its owner.
She couldn't really watch these films with a sober mind anyway. It was far too difficult.
"I know, but…" her voice broke a little and Santana reached out to squeeze her hand. "…just let me live in my fantasy for a little bit longer."
The utter desperation in her voice made Santana's heart melt and she knew now wasn't the time to push her back into reality. With a small nod she went to fetch another glass from the kitchen, switched on one of the lights and returned with a chilled bottle of Rosé. They sat in comfortable silence as Santana popped the cork and poured them half a glass each.
Quinn watched the hypnotic bubbles rush to the surface like their lives depended on it and remembered how she'd once moved that quickly to get into the arms of her love lost. She took the glass from the table and they clinked them together before taking the first of many sips.
She didn't want to plant false hope in her mind because really, Disney wasn't giving anything to Quinn that would bring Rachel back, but she'd developed an affinity to the man behind it all and couldn't help but tell her what Walt Disney had said himself. Something Quinn had always said to Rachel.
"If you can dream, it you can do it." Santana reminded her softly with a smile. Quinn took another sip and nodded sadly, acknowledging but not really believing. Not anymore.
She wished on her last star that night. Over wine and attempts at comfort from her best friend, she let go of the magic from Walt and with it the tiny grain of hope that on the next star, her wish would come true.