It started out like any other day.
7:12 AM- The Loft - The Bathroom
"Berry I swear if there isn't any hot water left for me-" Santana screeches through the door as I scrub conditioner into my hair.
My shift at the starlight diner does't start for another hour, but when you live with two other bathroom hogs, it is necessary to use the facilities at the earliest convenience.
"You'll what Santana?" I holler back, unrestrained. Kurt and I had bought a lock for the bathroom door a week ago, getting tired of Santana barging in at any given moment.
Santana Lopez may have no qualms with walking around the apartment in the nude. It doesn't mean Kurt and I want her walking in on us doing our business. She once walked in while Kurt was sitting on the toilet, scrolling through his tumblr feed. I mean during a shower is one thing, but during a number two? A number two!
That is what prompted us buying the new lock after all.
I feel a little smug that Santana doesn't respond with a snarky remark. Instead I hear nothing but the water running as I finish up my shower.
That is until I hear a flush just outside the shower. I turn around in horror, but before I can make a quick escape- it's too late.
My shriek echoes throughout our building, probably startling all of my hungover neighbors. I try and escape the polar ice caps that are now cascading out of the shower head. I rather not catch hypothermia in my own bathroom.
Usually, I am far more coordinated, but out of sheer surprise, I jump back into the shower curtain. It tangles itself around me, clinging to my damp skin as I fall ungracefully onto the bathroom floor. Right at the feet of a very satisfied looking Santana.
"How did you get in here?" I scramble on the floor, trying to make sure all my important parts are covered.
"Please. Did you and Hummel really think you could keep me out with that?" Santana points over to the lock that I had so easily put all my trust in. Is it normal to feel betrayed by inanimate objects?
"What is going on here?" Kurt comes rushing into the bathroom, eyes wide in alarm. He's holding an umbrella as if he is ready to impale an intruder with it.
Kurt takes the scene before him in and sighs, as if Santana and I are his greatest burden. He reaches for a towel and hands it to me slowly. I'm blushing several different shades of red which prompts him to say:
"Rachel sweetie, If I see something I haven't seen before, I'll throw a quarter at it. We have curtains instead of walls. I've seen far more of you and Santana than I have ever wanted to." I take the towel, mumbling a thanks. Kurt walks around me and shuts the shower off then turns to us, looking like a father ready to reprimand his children.
"What?" Santana barks at him, crossing her arms petulantly, like a teenager in the middle of a grounding would.
"This is unacceptable Santana. We bought a lock for a reason." Kurt tells her.
I try my best to wrap the towel around myself without giving my roommates a show. Then I maneuver so Kurt is shielding me from Santana. High school may have only been a year ago, but Santana's nicknames still give me nightmares.
"I learned to pick locks at the age of 5 in Lima Heights-"
"You lived in a house bigger than the Kardashians all your life." Kurt retorts easily. Santana's jaw clamps shut.
"Santana all we ask for is privacy." I speak up. It's not that I'm scared of Santana, but I'm feeling suddenly very vulnerable. It might have something to do with the fact that I am the only one in the bathroom not wearing any clothes.
"All I ask is that you and tinkerbell don't hog the bathroom." Santana directs at both Kurt and I.
"Wait, who's tinkerbell?" Kurt asks, then shakes his head and glares at Santana.
"I thought our little incident last week proved that we needed a lock." Kurt reminds her. Santana's face twists in horror.
"Hey, I'm traumatized too ok? I should be suing you for emotional distress. I didn't even know you could take shits. I just thought glitter shot out of there."
I scrunch up my face in disgust. That's quite the image.
"You're the one who barged in!" Kurt defends, his voice rising an octave. He takes a deep, calming breath. "Look, Rachel is out of the shower."
"Not by choice." I mumble, rubbing at my shin. That's going to bruise.
"So why don't you hop in? Don't you and Rachel have the morning shift?" Kurt asks her.
Great. Something to look forward to.
"Fuck it. Whatever." Santana curses, waving us out of the bathroom.
"I'll make you some breakfast." Kurt pats my towel clad back sympathetically as we make our way out of the bathroom.
"Hey Berry!" Santana calls back for me. I freeze, preparing myself for some kind of insult. "You're looking good these days." The way she says it implies something else. Like it's gossip she's ready to share.
Before I can ask what she means by it, I turn to see the door shut. And I hear the click of the lock.
8:42 AM - L Train
I knew she was up to something as soon as she offered to buy me a coffee.
"Look, sorry about this morning. You know I like my hot water." That was another clue. She even offered to sit next to the creepy old guy we always think is dead.
"Just tell me." I roll my eyes. She is so transparent sometimes. What did she break this time? It has to be big. As long as my playbills are still in tact, I think I'll survive.
"It's scary how well you know me sometimes." Santana grumbles. She doesn't like that I find it so easy to read her. She especially doesn't like it on the three occasions we have gotten drunk together. We tell each other too much. And now I'm blushing at the memory. I have definitely told her more than I would have liked.
"You don't mind having guests right? I don't have to ask permission or anything, you know, because I pay a third of the rent, but I thought I would mix things up a bit and give you a warning. That I'm having a guest, I mean." Santana normally isn't the one to ramble, so I know it must be something big.
"You know Brittany is always welcome." I let her know. It's our stop, the doors are opening. And that's when she drops the bomb.
"Oh it's not Britt. Quinn is coming. She should be at our place by the time our shift is over." And there I am left, stock still, in complete shock. I can't even move.
It's all a blur. Santana exiting. People entering. The doors closing. And me. I am still on the god damn L train. My heart pumping erratically in my chest.
9:03 AM- Starlight Diner
"You're late."
"I know I'm sorry Mr.-" I begin to profusely apologize
"Don't let it happen again." Before I can get too caught up in what my boss thinks of me. I see her, and I don't hesitate to yank at her elbow.
"What the-" Santana smirks when she realizes its me who has taken hold of her. "Berry. I see you've made it."
"Fuck you." I curse at her, surprising us both.
"You kiss your daddies with that mouth?" She tisks, amusement oozing from her pores.
"Shut up. I missed the stop and there was a delay to get back. I had to get a cab." I cross my arms, forcing myself not to stomp my foot. It's something i've been working on as of late.
"And why exactly did you miss your stop?" I know she's teasing me. Goading me into an argument in the middle of the diner. So I do not dignify her question with an answer.
"You-I-Awful-Cannot-" No, instead I stumble over my words and create the most incoherent babble known to man.
"Are you even speaking english?" My roommate questions me. I storm my way to the back of the diner without so much as another word directed at Santana.
12:39 AM- Starlight Diner
I know I should have asked a couple of weeks ago, but Santana did ask if it was ok that I crashed the weekend, right?
I don't normally check my text messages during my lunch break, the reasons being, most of them were Finn trying to get back together or my Fathers asking me how my day went, but this time, I simply had to.
Of course I was startled to see a text from Quinn. Nether of us had spoken since she had talked me out of that god forsaken student film.
I assure you that it is quite alright. Santana ran it by me this morning. No worries.
I realize too late how formal that sounds. Oh well.
This morning!? I'm sorry it's such short notice.
She actually sounds sincere. Though to be fair, everyone does through text.
Like I said, it's fine with me.
Truth be told, it wasn't fine with me. In fact, I was wondering if Santana was playing some sort of prank on me. I wish we had never gone through those two bottles of wine. I would have never admitted it otherwise.
Thanks.
4:16 - Streets of Bushwick
It's been nerve wracking to say the least. I've tried not think about it. Not to think about her and how, finally, we are both single.
Not that it makes any difference. Quinn has never showed any inclinations towards me, or women for that matter. Well, thats not necessarily true, there have been moments, but most of the time I think I'm deluding myself.
I try to wrack my brain on what is the proper etiquette to greet the girl from high school I had always crushed on. The girl who I wasted most of those years fighting over a BOY.
Was the house clean? Did Kurt clean the kitchen? She can't walk into the loft and find a mess. How embarrassing!
I pick up my pace, having lost Santana somewhere along the way. The most beneficial part of my day really, she had been teasing me all day.
"BERRY! WHAT THE FUCK!" And I was doing so well. "DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT I'M SURE YOUR SPAWN HAS HEARD WORSE!" Santana calls after me. It seems she has filled her daily quota of offending innocent bystanders.
A woman gawks at Santana, appalled at her usage of language in front of her 12 year old son, though by his lecherous stare directed at my roommate, I could guess he uses far worse language.
I duck my head, hoping that maybe I can spare myself from embarrassment.
"I can't believe you left me with those tourists to fend for myself. I got lost in a sea of cameras, fanny packs, and a Japanese version of siri playing translate for them." Santana has the audacity to look upset with me. I roll my eyes, but make no other move of acknowledgement.
Santana of course notices this. She smirks and pulls out her cellphone, either checking the time or if she has a received a text from Quinn. Probably both.
"You're not honestly mad are you?" Santana asks, though by the tone of her voice, I don't really think she cares. She sounds amused. I don't respond. Instead, I look straight ahead.
"Really Berry? I thought you and Quinn kissed and made up in the bathroom when we gradated. What's with you guys and bathrooms anyways. I don't know what kind of kinky-"
"We are friends!" I interrupt her before she can put images in my mind.
"Then what's your beef?" Santana asks, though by the smug look on her face. She knows exactly why I'm upset.
"I am not upset Santana, I am merely having an off day, now If you'll excuse me." Santana had stepped between me and the entrance to our building, having wanting to hear an answer before I got inside.
"I thought you would appreciate me calling Q. After all-" Santana begins, but I will not hear it. I shove past her.
"Can you not?" I screech a bit hysterically as I pass her.
"C'mon Rachel! It's nothing to be ashamed of. Q's a hot piece of-" The door slams in her face before she can finish the sentence.
4:28 pm - The Loft
I hear voices as soon as I enter the hallway. And they're coming from the loft.
Now, either Kurt is talking to the television again (he insists Piper Chapman and Alex Vause are made for one I, personally, find their relationship toxic) Or a certain blonde has arrived. Either situation is very likely.
Then laughter travels through the door and reaches my ears. The ringing laughter that was always so rare to hear in high school.
I take a deep breath to prepare myself before I slide the door open.
There on my sofa are Kurt and Quinn talking to each other as if they were the best of friends. They're laughing together, but it subsides as soon as I step through the door.
And I can't help it, but I'm suddenly breathless at the sight of her. Quinn has always been so much more than her obvious beauty, but the way the light shines through her blonde hair, and the sparkling of her eyes. And it may have only been a couple of months since I last saw her, but there is a maturity to her face.
She stands as soon as I enter the door, ready to greet me, but I am frozen in place.
"Quinn you look- you look wonderful." I breathe. I realize I may have sounded like Jacob Ben Israel, but there is simply no other way to express myself.
She smiles slightly, arching her infamous eyebrow at me. Her eyes take in the sight of me. I'm immediately self conscious.
"You look great too." For a second I find myself in high school, thinking Quinn is being sarcastic, but there is something more to it. I'll just sum it up to her being polite.
I blush several different shades of pink, eventually my cheeks match my uniform. This is not how I wanted Quinn to see me.
"I'm a mess." I mumble, Kurt watches the sight, a sympathetic glance sent my way. It must be like watching the Titanic sink.
"Really Rachel, you look great." Quinn smiles encouragingly at me, taking a step closer to me hesitantly. I realize now that I haven't properly greeted her with a hug.
"Q!" Santana enters dramatically, arms outstretched towards her best friend. "You're lookin fine!" Santana envelopes her in a hug, Quinn smiles over her best friends shoulder right at me and shrugs slightly.
Dammit Santana.
"Satan!" Kurt calls out to our roommate pleasantly. I send a smile his way, thankfully. "We're out of booze, tonight calls for proper celebration!"
Though the idea immediately sounds like an awful one in my mind, I'm glad it drags a grinning Santana away from Quinn and I and towards Kurt.
"It really is great to see you." Quinn tells me, taking a step closer to me. Quinn has never been one to initiate any physical contact with me, so the step in my direction is enough of a surprise.
I put my foolish little crush aside for a moment, because despite everything, I really do see Quinn as a friend.
"I missed you." I tell her, wrapping my arms around her tightly.
Quinn hesitates for a moment, her arms limp at her side, but they reach around me and hold me as I hold her. She melts into my embrace.
"I missed you too." She laughs lightly, as if she finds me endearing.
5:45 The Loft
Quinn and Santana managed to return from the liquor store across the street without causing one another any physical harm. At least thats what I gather when both of them return without pink hand shaped marks on either of their faces.
"That was quite the hug." Kurt sings as he waggles his eyebrows suggestively at me, I roll my eyes at his childish behavior. I can't help but agree though. Not that I would ever tell him that.
"Don't start." I snap at him before he spends the rest of the night not so conspicuously teasing me.
"Start with what? I was just making an observation." The tone he uses sounds far too innocent for the grin he has plastered on his face.
"Please Kurt. I'm already out of sorts with Quinn showing up out of the blue." I tell him, glancing over at the kitchen to where Santana and Quinn are preparing drinks. They look to be having some sort of whisper fight. Which is odd because Santana is not one to keep her voice down. Not for anyone. Quinn looks particularly upset. Both girls look over and meet my eyes then quickly look away.
"I think it's a sign." Kurt gushes. Probably romanticizing about Quinn and I.
"What kind of sign?" I ask like the answer has annoyed me, but really, I'm genuinely curious.
"Only the best kind. You don't think you would ever join Quinn in a drug smuggling business do you?" Kurt asks, hopefully. His eyes glitter with the idea of Quinn and I going to prison in hopes of becoming his real life Orange is the New Black.
"No Kurt. I would never." I snap, ending the conversation as soon as Santana and Quinn enter the living room, each of them holding a drink for Kurt and I. Quinn looks more annoyed with Santana than usual as she hands me some type of alcoholic concoction.
"You'd never what?" Quinn asks me curiously. I wasn't planning on drinking, but to avoid the question I take a healthy gulp, Kurt opens his mouth to answer for me, but I throw a glare his way before he can say embarrassing
"You always say you're never going to drink again." Santana notes with a smug smile. "Yet I never see you refuse a drink." I'm not sure if she's teasing me or not.
"Rachel." Kurt complains when I'm about to take another sip from my drink.
"We didn't toast to anything." Kurt raises his glass expectantly, waiting for us to join. Santana rolls her eyes, but she once told me she actually loves all of Kurts dorky requests.
"To new beginnings with old friends." Kurt announces. I could be imagining it when I see Quinn glance at me as our glasses clink together.
7:20 The Loft - Living Room
It had come sort of as an unspoken consensus that we would all take it slow while drinking. I mean it isn't even 8 o'clock yet, but by the time I hit my third drink, it was fair game for everyone to drink as much as the wanted.
That is why Quinn and Kurt found themselves giggling over some video kurt was showing the cheerleader and Santana was sprawled across the couch with her head in my lap.
Quinn kept glancing our way every few minutes, but she remained impassive towards our seating arrangement. Not that I had been watching her all night or anything.
"Berry. I'm sorry for barging in this morning. That wasn't cool." Santana apologized, though she was giggling slightly I knew she was being sincere. Apparently we had reached the part of the night where Santana would profusely apologize for all her wrongs. Weeping came after that. Confessions after that.
"It's fine." I wave it off like its no big deal. As if the huge bruise on my shin didn't actually hurt. Santana seems to notice this, because her hand takes a hold of my leg and she points at it (We had both changed out of our uniforms and into something more flattering).
"No it's not. I mean- look!" Santana points at the bruise, for a terrifying moment I actually think she's going to try the kiss the booboo away. Both Kurt and Quinn tear their attention away from the phone and start to watch us.
"I never meant to- like physically hurt you." Santana tells me regretfully. "I mean never. Not even in High school."
"You used to throw slushies at us!" Kurt cuts in shrilly. Quinn winces, leaning away from Kurt.
"Jesus twinkle toes, how about we use words that humans can hear. I'm pretty sure that chihuahua over in 5b hard you." Santana presses her palms to her ears and squeezes her eyes tight.
"He's right." Quinn agrees standing from her spot next to my best friend. I watch her movements carefully. We've never really spoken about high school.
"Screw you Fabray. So did you. And in my defense, I never knew they hurt until I got one of those in the face."
"I'm sorry for that." Quinn tells us. Or, I think she may be apologizing to me because she is staring straight at me. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the three of us heard her fine enough. In fact, Santana sits up and stares at Quinn as if she's grown another head.
"It's ok." I tell her, because, honestly, they're the only words I can think of.
"It's not ok. We were cruel and with no good reason either." Quinn tells me. She has taken the opportunity of Santana scooting over to take the seat right next to me.
"I mean I know it's not- It's just- you- past- Is it hot in here?" Never have I, Rachel Berry, been known to be without words. Quinn Fabray has always been my one exception.
I take a large gulp from my glass. And before I know it, it's empty. So I take Quinn's glass and down it as well.
"Woah, slow down there." Santana watches with slight amusement. "We don't want you confessing stuff that you don-"
"SANTANA!" I screech and stand from the couch unsteadily.
"What's in the past is gone. All that matters is that we're all friends now." I announce, my words slurring. "Who cares that Quinn and I would fight over Finn. Or that Santana slept with him. or that Kurt used to have a crush on him- what was up with him anyway?" I ask, suddenly noticing that most of my issues started with my high school sweetheart.
"Yeah!" Santana agrees, picking up the bottle of tequila off the coffee table. She takes a swig.
"Who cares that I saw Berry naked-lookin good by the way." Santana winks at me. And now it's my turn for a swig of alcohol so I take it from Santana.
"You what?" Quinn asks sounding more angry than I have heard her since... since the halls of McKinley.
"And who cares that I slept with Q at Schues wedding."
I'm not sure what happens to me in that moment. I mean I know I have a crush on the girl, but it gives me no reason to suddenly have my blood boil. It gives me no reason to stand in rage and yell
"You what?!" I stare down at both girls who look at me in alarm. Kurt claps his hands excitedly.
Santana stares at me with wide eyes, Quinn's mouth opens and closes a couple of times. I have never seen either girls look so confused in my life. I bring the bottle to my lips one last time. The liquid moves harshly down my throat. It takes all I have in me not to grimace at the taste when I slam the bottle down on the table and turn on my heel.
I storm into my room, never wanting more in that moment to have a door to slam as I disappear from the room.
7:42 - The Loft - My Room
I'm curled into my bed, letting the tears flow freely.
I have no right to feel this way. I have no claim over Quinn. Never had. Never will. She is not some property I can claim over. She was never even really my friend. Not really, anyway.
So why does it hurt so much? Why does it hurt to know that if she ever had any inclinations towards women that she experimented with Santana and not me?
It makes sense for it to be Santana. She is her best friend after all. If she is to trust someone, why not her best friend that had already gone through something similar.
I guess I had always hoped that Quinn and I shared some sort of special connection. That she would come to me if she ever wanted to- I don't know- experiment I guess.
I know that's my crush talking. That's me wanting her to feel the same way I felt for her.
When gentle footsteps approach my room. I know it's Kurt who has come to my aid.
"Rach, sweetie." I know he doesn't dare enter my room. Not all the way, he has just peeked his head in.
"Are you ok?" he asks gently.
"I'm fine." I reply shortly. I sniff a couple of times though, so he probably isn't convinced.
"Then why are you crying?" He asks.
"I'm not crying." I snap.
"Rachel-"
"Can I just be alone?" I ask him between my tears. He hesitates at the curtain before I hear his footsteps retreat to the living room.
8:09 - The Loft - Still in my room
Santana barges in with her usual tact.
"Look Rachel you better stop your moping." She tells me. It's clear she has continues her drinking without me.
"Leave me alone Santana." I whine, turning over in my bed to face away from her.
"No. Everything is going to shit out there without you. Quinn won't talk to me. Kurt is drunk calling Blaine. And Brittany won't answer my texts." She complains to me, standing at the foot of my bed. I don't dignify her with a response.
"I'm sorry okay?" Santana says. This is enough to capture my attention. I turn over slightly to look at her. "I'm sorry that I tapped that first." Santana finishes crudely. I toss a pillow at her.
"No, no listen. You have never been one to hide who yo are Berry. Never. So how were we all supposed to know? I wasn't even really sure until now."
"What are you talking about?" I snap, sitting up in bed.
"That your supposed little girl crush on Fabray isn't a girl crush at all. It's a full on flaming Lesbian crush." Santana responds. I don't say anything. I simply glare at her.
"And if you would just get your head out of your ass, you would realize that she feels the same way."
I'm left, once again, with absolutely nothing to say.
9:30 - The Loft - Yes, I'm still in my room
I don't hear Quinn's voice at all. Actually, most of the time all I hear is Kurt singing and sobbing voice mails to Blaine while Santana tries and fails to stop him.
11:42 - The Loft
Things have quieted down, even though it's still quite early. At least for Santana's standards. It seems they have all fallen asleep in the living room.
Kurt and Santana are actually snuggling. Kurts phone clutched between the two of them. I have half a mind to snap a picture of them, but I'm really not in the mood. Quinn is nowhere in sight. So I assume I have made a fool of myself and scared the girl off.
I sneak out to the fire escape. My favorite place to go when I need to think. As soon as I open the window, a burst of cold wind envelopes me. It's chilly, but I think I can handle it.
Then I'm hit with the smell of cigarettes. That's when I notice I'm not alone.
11:44 - The Loft - Fire Escape
"Oh, I'm sorry." I squeak. Noticing Quinn who quickly flicks the cigarette away as if she has been caught by a parent.
"It's fine. There's enough room for both of us." Quinn tells me, sounding hopeful. I smile slightly and nod. I'm just glad she hasn't left.
"You shouldn't smoke." Are my first words to her after ten minutes of silence. Though not complete silence. New York is always alive. It's one of my favorite things about the city.
"Old habits." Quinn shrugs.
I wrap my arms around myself, regretting not bringing a sweatshirt with me. Quinn has a quilt wrapped around her shoulders so she must be fine.
"Are you cold?" Quinn asks, offering me the quilt. I shake my head.
"I'm fine." Quinn arches her eyebrow at me, challenging me. I remain firm.
"Suit yourself." She nods. She produces a bottle of from seemingly out nowhere and takes a swig.
"Can I-" I clear my throat. "Can I have a sip?" I ask. Anything to not feel so awkward.
She hands it over without a second glance.
"Thank you." I reply before taking a sip. The small amount of alcohol burns it's way down my throat. Encouraging me to take a healthy gulp. Maybe that will warm me up.
We listen to the sirens, and the chattering. Someone seems to think now is the perfect time to practice their violin with the window open. The music echoes off the buildings distorting into a beautiful sound, creating the symphony of the night.
We pass the bottle between the two of us and despite feeling the warmth I start to shiver maybe 15 minutes later.
Quinn sighs, and without a word, scoots closer to me, wrapping an arm around me so the quilt drapes over both of our shoulders. Before I can stop myself, I melt into her side.
The smell of smoke lingers on her skin, along with vodka, and just the hint of coconut that is either her shampoo or lotion. It's intoxicating.
"You have no right, you know." Quinn tells me. Though she is not annoyed, or angry even, more like, disappointed. She's right. I had no reason to be upset.
"I know." I whisper in response. I pry the bottle gently out of her hands and take a sip from it.
"I gave you so many signs. I wasn't even subtle." Quinn chuckles lightly and shakes her head.
"Can you blame me for not being sure?" I challenge. She sighs again, this time sadly.
"No, I can't."
I pull away slightly and really take a good look at her. Right here in this moment. It's perhaps the most beautiful I have ever seen her.
Sitting on a fire escape, make up smudged, hair mussed, moonlight glistening through her blonde hair. Hazel eyes shining in the night. An unlit cigarette held between her fingers. And staring right back at me, with an emotion I was never quite able to place before. And now I can: longing.
The music that was hauntingly echoing through the city stops suddenly.
And all I see is her. I think maybe, she is all I have ever seen. All I have ever wanted.
I'm not sure who is the one who leaned in first, but I know it was the encouragement of the alcohol that made us both brave enough to press our lips together.
She tastes of alcohol, and cigarette, with a hint of fruity Chapstick. It fuels me, hungers me to press my lips more urgently to hers. Her hand cradles my neck, her thumb caressing my cheek so gently.
Mine find her waist, pulling her closer to me. Not wanting anything between us. I don't realize I'm the one whimpering until Quinn moans into my mouth.
12:02 - The Loft - Living Room
I'm not sure who is the first to remove an article of clothing off the other, but once it's off. Everything is fair game. We move quietly through the living room as to not wake our friends.
Hands roam over warm skin and feet pad through the living to find home in my room.
12:05 - My room?
Yeah, my room, we crash onto my bed, a mess of limbs.
We're trying to be as quiet as possible, but I have never felt like this before. Never felt smooth lips glide across my body so effortlessly. It's eloquent and elegant an free flowing. Smooth skin on smooth skin.
I get lost in her lips, in her warm skin, in her eyes, and in her whispered assurances of how she feels about me.
And when we reach our release together, we fall asleep, a tangle of arms and emotions, and words that have never been expressed before.
6:33 - The Loft - My room
I wake to the sound of vomiting and I'm almost positive it's Santana. I roll over in bed to find a warm body next to me.
Memories come flooding back, but I do not panic. I burrow into the warmth and find an arm wrap around my waist pulling me closer in her sleep.
7:12 - The Loft - My room
I've been awake for quite some time now, but I feel no need to leave the comfort of my bed. I feel the shift in her breaths and know she is awake. And like me, she feels no need to move.
I feel her lips at my neck, turn into a smile, and the smallest of kisses is pressed there.
"Why is there so much clothes on the ground?" I hear Kurt asks groggily. "Oh shit."
I feel the form behind me shake with laughter.
"I think we've been caught." She whispers into my ear, goosebumps rise on my flesh.
"Seems that way." I whisper back. I turn around and hide my face in her neck. Her arms wrap around me easily, protecting me from the wrath of my roommates.
"Aw Hell no! You bitches better not have had sex in the living room while we were asleep!" Santana calls out rather loudly. Then groans at her own volume. "Fuck this, I'm going back to bed."
"Why do I have so many missed class from Blaine?" Kurt asks, slightly panicked.
I tune out the sound of my roommates and press a kiss to Quinn's neck.
"I guess this means we should talk." Quinn tells me, I can already tell she is starting to doubt this. Or at least my feelings.
"I guess so. But right now? I want to sleep." I say to her.
Quinn chuckles slightly and pulls me closer, if that's possible.
Once again the Loft id enveloped with silence. And I fall asleep to the sound of Quinn's heart beating in my ear.
It started out like any other day, but 24 hours could really change a lot.
AN: I'm sorry I haven't been around lately. Life has been kind of crazy. I started writing this for Faberry Week and life kind of got in the way.
What did you guys think? - A