Author's Note: Here's the prologue to my Fabang fanfic :D I currently have the first chapter already finished, and the next two mapped out and planned. I'm trying to get better at finishing stories, so for now, I'm keeping my expectations of its length to 10 chapters, but it can and will most definitely change. Dedicated to my two Mike's who always continue to inspire my Fabang shipper heart. Special thanks to Fel, who is helping me through this story by editing it
Prologue
Miss Porter is, by very definition, a Lima Loser. Born and bred in the self-proclaimed "cow town", her dreams are never from that of delusions of grandeur, but rather mediocrity. But, again, she didn't have the 'fight' in her others did. She yearns for the familiarity of the blue collar town, thrives on the idea of growing old in a white picket fenced home and the comfort of knowing her children would grow the same way. Of course she understands this life to not be one most kids aspired to have. She, however, learns this through her small, unknowingly impressionable, students.
Some often mock her for choosing to teach the first grade. Maybe they have some sort of point. It isn't nearly as challenging as the job of a high school English teacher. In fact, she would be a perfect fit for that very job, having earned a degree in Literature from the Lima Community College. But something about being a first grade teacher appealed to her. For it is in the confines of her classroom that she witnesses the starting point of her children's journeys.
Observing the children easily becomes a habit. Not only were some wildly entertaining, but so much could be told from the way they interact with each other. Certain friendships, she could already tell, would fizzle as time goes on. Others seem to fit the already set social hierarchy, and therefore would last, depending on the child's aspirations later on. And then there were the… special ones. Now, she doesn't doubt the intellect of the children. By all means, they have minds far more creative than any adult's, but these special friendships, or rather special connections, often go unnoticed by the children themselves. Maybe she sees being too imaginative herself, but she sees the special bonds that form and likes to believe they'll last. And that they'll make for a great story.
Three weeks into September, one of these connection piques her attention as she sits idly and watches her students from the window overlooking the park: Mike Chang and Quinn Fabray. As individuals, both children already capture her full attention, but for all the wrong and completely different reasons.
Quiet and kind is how she immediately sees Mike Chang. It takes him sometime to break into the class socially. In fact, he only ever really captures the males' acceptance upon being able to hurl a football across the park towards another young boy, Finn. Since then, he's been welcomed into the 'bang gang' as Noah Puckerman so affectionately calls himself, Finn, Matt, Artie and now Mike.
Sometimes she wonders if Mike even likes being included. He seems perfectly content flipping through graphic novels (the first grade version, of course) or building robots with Lego. He often just stares at people, really, with his wide, dark eyes as he takes in their words. Maybe that's why the "bang gang" like him so much. His silence is refreshing, and quite honestly, she finds that it's needed.
More often than not, Finn, Matt, Artie or Puck would speak to Mike individually. Take away the grunts, nods or tiny comments of acknowledgement, and he's practically mute all throughout. It's in those conversations that tidbits of their own personal thoughts or issues come out that had been hidden before. Finn would drift from his oh-so intellectual thoughts on candy wrappers and onto the topic of his dad and how he never quite understands why he isn't around. Matt would dive right into his daily rant about the lack of pop tarts in his lunch box. Artie would reveal his own speculations on the disease known as "cooties". Puck would begin grilling Mike about his own problems before, eventually, falling into a conversation about his absentee father.
At first, it seems to Miss Porter that this is all coincidental. Silence didn't equal a good friend, did it? Turns out, his silence vocally can be trumped by his actions. During their lunch break, she overhears Finn and Puck bragging about Mister Chang Senior taking them out for Dim Sum. But what truly catches her attention is when Mike offers to share his dad, so long as he got first dibs on all the video games. He says they are his brothers anyway.
It's then Miss Porter becomes intrigued by him.
She doesn't see the appeal of Quinn Fabray. Maybe because she represents everything she loathed about Lima: the conventional upbringing, the need to relish one's glory days in their youth and just her obsession with her looks in general. It doesn't escape her that she's merely a child, her personality can change tremendously, but at this very moment she doesn't see why she's well-liked. Well, she does, sort of. She has shimmering yet classic shoes that Santana Lopez practically yanks off her feet. Not practically-she does. She makes a mental note to speak to her parent's about her kleptomaniac tendencies at the next PTC.
There's also that classic, all-American girl beauty feature-she would grow up to be uncommonly pretty, Miss Porter already knew. That was another reason why she became increasingly popular in a matter of days. But her obsession with mocking the loud, enthusiastic Jew known as Rachel Berry, or to untangle her blonde curls every thirty minutes or so makes her unlikable in her eyes. Not that she'd ever say it.
She sees her as vain and shallow.
She meets Judy Fabray, and ten minutes into the conversation, inhales her breath deeply and the palpable scent of alcohol fills her nostrils. She drones on and on about her days as Miss Ohio, and how she expects young Quinn to achieve the goals they had set. Her eyes land on the noticeable deep bruise covered by at least three types of foundation. Her eyes then shift to Quinn, who sees this curiosity and pipes into the conversation boldly, the confidence she often had not waning as she speaks to her.
She changes her mind. Quinn isn't vain and shallow-she's strong and complex.
One day, on her way to the teacher's lounge with a cup of coffee, she spots two tiny bodies sitting against the brick walls of the hallway. Stopping mid-way, she opens her mouth to usher them out. They're supposed to be outside with the rest of her class for their 30 minute recess.
"He doesn't love me." She hears Quinn's soft, thin voice murmur into Mike's shoulder. It barely takes Miss Porter a split second to register exactly who 'he' is: the current object of her affection- Finn Hudson. Quinn's ears practically had steam coming out of them when she spotted him and Rachel touching hands at the bottom of their desk.
"So what?" Crinkling her eyebrows, she wonders when she's ever heard Mike Chang sound so cold and uncaring-the boy usually oozes with empathy whenever he speaks.
"He should love me."
"He's not thinking-"
"I just want somebody to love me." She cringes at the heartbreaking tone and the sound of a sniffle enters her ears. And then two. And then three. She realizes Quinn's crying. Hard. She should intervene- any good teacher would do so, but her feet feel drilled to the ground, her eyes transfixed on the unlikely development before her; Quiet and shy Mike Chang comforting strong and complex Quinn Fabray. It's both odd and absolutely intoxicating.
"I love you."
"Why?"
"Because… The lemon hair," Miss Porter bites back a snort of bedeviled amusement. She sees Quinn raise her tear-stricken face from his shoulder, eyebrows fussed together.
"What?"
"Lemons are yellow."
"Your point being?" The girl is too formal for a first grader.
"Your hair is yellow, too."
"You're yellow, too." Quinn gestures to him. He shrugs.
"But your hair is yellow."
"So?"
"I like lemons," he returns simply.
"Again; so?"
"So, I like you."
"You said you love me," Quinn points out.
"I do."
"Why?" she asks adamantly.
"Because your hair is yellow, like lemons" Mike says slowly, as if he's speaking down to her, as though his slowed speech will make his words seem clearer. She catches a tiny scowl on the little blonde's face. She thought so too.
"That makes you like me, why do you love me?"
"Why shouldn't I?" The back and forth makes her smile, she barely thinks about moving from her spot anytime soon. Maybe she should start dating that accountant from Willa Wenchester's mixer. To be entertained by two children speaking about lemons is sort of very sad. Even for her.
"You answered my question by asking me something,"
"Can't I just love you?" There's a long pause. She glances over at the pair. Quinn's helping herself up, Mike's gaze following her movements. She brushes down her frilly dress, shaking her head sharply.
"No,"
Later that evening, as Miss Porter shuffles in bed, hearing the conversation over and over again in her head. For two kids, the conversation seems strangely mature, toss aside the reference to lemons. She smiles at the witty banter, snuggling closer to the comfort of her pillow, imagining all the ways their story can unfold.