Summary:
She didn't choose to be stuck with Santana, and it wasn't like the latter was very fond of her either. She had hoped that post graduation meant she could leave it all behind, cut close proximity forces them to come to terms, and when it all catches up to them, something's going to give.
Rated for explicit content and mature themes.
I don't own any of the characters (:
The Guest
"With freedom, books, flowers and the moon, who could not be happy?" Oscar Wilde had once asked. Quinn knew this because, well, she read it somewhere.
And she wondered, why was it that, despite the fact that she was out with her book, at night with the moon high above, surrounded by somewhat pretty shrubs, that she was quite possibly at the lowest point of her life.
Because poetic and whimsical notions were overrated;, that's why. She couldn't care to admire the different hues of flowers; they all shrivelled up and died anyways, what with winter sucking the life and joy out of everything possible. Sunsets and stars were monotonous and same day after day, and there was only this much books could offer her. She had seen enough of those when she spent a month bound to a wheelchair, in any case.
It was halfway through summer break, meaning Quinn had about a month to waste before heading back to college. It meant that it was nine months since she had last reunited with her friends from high school. Not that she wanted to, but there were some exceptions.
It also meant that it was almost a year since she had first stepped foot into Yale.
It was going to be a whole new life, she had foolishly decided, as she piled her clothes into neat boxes in her tiny, pink bedroom, and she was leaving the old Quinn and all her mistakes behind. Frankly, she was excited at the prospect of starting the new phase of her life. One without restraints or opinionated comments or judgements. It was the new Quinn Fabray.
Into the 'throw away' box went all her pageant and prom queen tiaras; their sheen had dulled and their glow had dimmed - a seemingly uncanny resemblance to her life, she thought, as she tossed them into the cardboard box.
She had felt a twinge of remorse discarding her once-beloved trophies like that, but she was determined to start anew. Even her memories - she would fade them out somehow. Crumbled bits of paper with (embarrassingly) horrible and ugly drawings of Rachel Berry went into the box next; a result of Quinn's boredom in her high school years. She had hated Rachel then, more so for her talent rather than her stealing her previous boyfriend away. She never said it aloud though, because she knew people would laugh. But in all honesty, she had come to terms with the fact that she was the most average girl ever possible.
She didn't possess a fantastic vocal box that would let her belt out amazing notes; Kurt and Rachel and Mercedes did. She didn't have any hitherto dancing skills to enthrall the crowd; Mike and Brittany did. She was an above average student when it came to academic achievements, she wouldn't deny that, but there were better.
After years of calling others that dreadful name, she realised that she was the Lima Loser.
But she had got into Yale on a scholarship for the arts, specifically, acting. She was good at acting, and act she did all her life. She played her part well, the role of an over-achieving, over-compensating head cheerleader, admired by many and seemingly flawless, when in harsh reality, it had just been a girl hiding from the shadows of fabricated lies were more pleasing to those around her, and they listened on with painted smiles and looks of awe. She didn't stop. Why would she? No one noticed, as she had come to realise.
Maybe not no one. Maybe one person had noticed, she had thought, picking up an old faded picture of her and Santana hugging on the bleachers.
The picture was the final treasure in the room, waiting for its fate. In whatever room she had called her own since childhood, there is had also lived for the past 4 years, not quite familiar, not quite smiling, but in its prim colonial hues delicate as some pressed flower. It was encompassed in a battered, pretty little plastic frame. She remembered chucking the little frame somewhere in a cupboard in her apartment.
Quinn shivered slightly, and she pulled the sleeves of her cardigan to cover her knuckles.
Her resolve to leave the past behind had been as soft as the material of her cardigan, to say the least, and she found herself talking to Rachel often on Skype, meeting up whenever possible. While her roommate were more than decent company, she wasn't any of her friends back at McKinley, and there was just no filling in for some people.
Yale was lonely at times, very lonely.
Quinn glanced at her phone at the slight vibration; a new message from Rachel.
"The train was late, sorry. Will be there in an hour (:"
She frowned slightly, but sent back a smiley face nonetheless. It wasn't like her friend to be late, but if the train was at fault, she couldn't be held at blame for it. It was also very un-Rachel Berry like to turn up abruptly at her doorstep, despite the day's notice via Skype.
"New York is amazing, Quinn, isn't it? Its so full of life and theatricality! You'll love it, i'm sure. Why don't you stay with us for the fortnight before your semester begins? You'll be entitled to the one-of-a-kind Rachel Berry's tour of New York!" Rachel gushed, excited at the prospect.
"Summer break still lasts for a month, so i'll try to come around, but don't trouble yourself."
"What trouble? C'mon, Quinn, it'll be fun! And I went to visit the museum the other day and guess what?!" Rachel dramatically stage-whispered, bringing her face several inches closer to the webcam.
Quinn giggled, raising her eyebrows in reply at the prompt. "I stood in the same position Barbra Streisand had stood. The very place where a sheer pioneer had graced, and I was there to feel it!" Rachel gushed, looking so longingly into the distance that Quinn almost thought her screen had frozen for a second.
"It sounds amazing," Quinn said, knowing how excited Rachel could get over all her...idols. "I can't wait to see them myself."
"Quinn, if you're going to be sarcastic, you need to try harder," Rachel huffed, before suddenly brightening up all over again. "Also, guess what? I have auditions!"
"Auditions?" Quinn asked curiously; Rachel hadn't mentioned any new roles she had landed. She watched as the smile on the brunette's face widened with glee before she squealed.
"I got through the first round of auditions for Fanny Brice! Funny Girl!"
"Rachel, oh my god, congratulations! I knew you had it in you," Quinn extolled, echoing the glee.
"Did she tell you too? She's literally been hollering it out to everyone in the streets," Quinn heard a familiar voice in the background. The male slid into view, bumping Rachel out of her chair as he smiled. "Hi, Kurt. Cut her some slack, will you?" Quinn chortled, laughing as Rachel smacked Kurt on his arm sharply.
"Thank you, Quinn, at least I know some people out there are supportive of my talent," she muttered, looking pointedly at Kurt as he checked his fingernails unabashedly. The expression was soon lost though, as Rachel put on a very serious look upon her face.
"Have you heard from...anyone lately? Anyone from school, I mean," she asked, rather quietly. Quinn looked up from the report she had been reading; Rachel Berry and quiet weren't two words that went together.
"Should I have heard from someone?" Quinn questioned back, looking from Rachel to Kurt, who shrugged uncomfortably.
'Well, not really," the brunette onscreen mumbled, brushing strands of hair off her face, before proceeding to stare directly at Quinn. "Santana."
"What?"
"Santana, Quinn. Has she talked to you?"
Quinn gave her the most quizzical expression she could at the absurdity of the question. Santana wasn't a very common topic of discussion. Heck, the last time they were together, it had ended in them slapping each other across the face. Hard. Quinn hadn't spoken to her for months - how would she know what was happening?
"No." The bitterness in her voice made Rachel blink away from Quinn's gaze, and instead she opted to fiddle with the loose strings of Kurt's sweater. Regretting her tone, Quinn flashed a tight lipped smile. "Why?"
"No, nothing at all," she waved her hand airily. "I was just asking."
Quinn brought Rachel's gaze to her own, opening her mouth to speak. She changed her mind halfway in the process, opting to give Rachel a suspicious look.
"Also, Quinn, is it okay if we, um, come over tomorrow? Probably in the evening, if that's fine."
Quinn stared at the two faces filling up her screen suspiciously; she had a feeling they had been waiting to ask her this question the whole time.
"I guess so, I mean, I don't have plans...yet."
Quinn had asked if they were coming over to stay, but after fifteen minutes of trying, she had failed to retrieve a proper answer, just vague hints. It was unnerving, because she liked stability. Anything without prior warning was just petrifying in all aspects, but this was Rachel Berry she was talking to; what's the worst that could happen? If the two of them were coming over to stay, she didn't worry that her stay there would be awkward; Rachel had been the only one Quinn had maintained contact with, and they had grown a lot closer after graduation, considering how helpful her existence had been through her high school journey. Quinn would have probably ended up in jail if it had not been for Rachel's common sense when she had been this close to accusing Shelby.
She stood up daintily, brushing off any grit from the back of her skirt. If they were to arrive as they said they would, it would be best to leave for home soon.
"I truly think this is a fucking terrible idea," Santana whispered harshly, glaring from the backseat of the car.
"And I supposed you had a better one?" Rachel asked, not bothering to face Santana.
"You are insane, Berry, have you forgotten that Quinn and I are not exactly homies right now?" she supplied angrily, as she ran her hands through her hair.
"You've mentioned that twelve times, and i've been counting. Thirteen is unlucky, just saying," Kurt called out from the front seat, turning around to face Santana.
"Shut it, Hummel," Santana shot back. "I don't see why I can't stay with you!"
"Because," Rachel pursed her lips, before sighing dramatically. "I've mentioned this more than once, and i'll say it again. Slowly. Kurt and I won't be in town for the month, and you need a place to stay, don't you? And on no account are we going to let you stay at our loft alone."
"Why not?!"
"You know perfectly well why not. I refuse to come back to find the place burnt down, or worse...ransacked," Rachel shuddered.
"You need to get your priorities straight, Rachel," Kurt grinned.
A string of expletives could be heard from the backseat, and Kurt squirmed outwardly. "Will you just calm down? It won't be that bad. And all your negative aura is messing up my hair."
"It won't be that bad? IT WON'T BE THAT BAD?" Santana shrieked. "Were you not listening to what I told you?" she threw her hands up in frustration. "God, you are such a dipshit," came the exasperated reply.
"Instead of calling me names, why don't you think of how your stay there is going to be? Don't be stupid, Santana, you need a place to stay and Quinn is the only viable option as of now. Suck it up, and its not like you have any other choice,' Rachel pointed out pertly, as the car slowly turned into a small alley.
Santana's protests stopped.
Not because she was willing to stay over at her house, but because Manhands in the front seat was actually making sense. It was true; she had nowhere and she was lost and alone in the chaotic city of New York, with a suitcase full of clothes and a heart full of dreams. Stripped of her cheerleading scholarship, she had turned up at the doorstep to the Bushwick Apartment, only to find that a week later she would have to be staying at Quinn Fabray's, of all people.
It was pointless and pathetic, really, that she honestly had nothing to cling onto at that moment. She couldn't bring herself to tell her parents that she had ditched enough school days (to visit Brittany) to cost her the scholarship Sue Sylvester had painstakingly got for her.
Nor could she tell them that she was supposed to be staying at Quinn's house for the summer break till she could apply to NYC.
It was all complete bullshit.
"No, i'm pretty sure her house is on the left."
"Its here, on the right! See that building, its her flat," Rachel supplied, turning the wheel to enter the carpark.
"Rachel, stop. Its here, trust me," Kurt tried to pull at the steering wheel, earning a shriek from the driver and a glare.
"No! Its there, look!" she repeated, with subtle force.
Santana leaned back in the backseat, chewing her tongue. It was taking every bit of self-control not to scream at the bickering pair in front of her. The scratching tones were doing nothing to ease her aggravating tension.
"You know i'm right, Kurt, don't push it," Rachel muttered, backing in slowly into the street. He gave a derisive snort, instead turning around to face Santana. "We're here. Do I have to remind you to-"
"Not be a bitch to Quinn? Yes, you've mentioned it, Lady Hummel, and I won't if she isn't one to me," Santana interrupted him midway, ignoring the grunt from Rachel.
"Quinn won't be one, trust me."
"We'll see about that," Santana mumbled quietly as the car came to an indefinite halt. She grabbed the handle of her bag, sighing as loudly as she could, before clambering out of the vehicle. The path from the carpark to the apartment was dimly lit, and there were several trees and shrubs lining the way. Santana cocked her brow; how quaint of Quinn.
"You can sigh and cry all you want; it's not going to make me change my mind," Rachel spoke, as she gestured at Kurt to follow. Santana raised her eyes to regard the brunette with an agitated glare. Since when did Rachel fucking Berry lay down the rules? Who was she to tell her what to do? Like she was helping Santana. She didn't want to be here, fuck no. She didn't need her help, or Quinn's, and she could stick it up her-
"I know what you're thinking, Santana, but its the only way for now, okay? When Kurt and I are back, you can always stay with us, and maybe you can even find your own place soon!"
Kurt gave a small sound of agreement from the back, and Santana turned around to see him texting on the phone. She couldn't help but roll her eyes; Blaine, obviously.
She would have clawed out Rachel's eyes, and possibly her vocal chords, if what she said wasn't the truth.
She needed a place to stay. Fact.
It took two hard raps on the wooden door before either of them heard the sudden scuffling of feet, followed by a soft grating noise as the door slid open, revealing a gleeful bronde.
"Rac-" Quinn's eyes widened momentarily, and the next moment she wished they hadn't done so; a shrieking blur of brown hair launched itself at Quinn, the strands tickling her eyes and the tightening hug tickling her ribs.
Oh, how she missed Rachel.
Quinn hugged her back, just as hard and just as passionate, before finally letting her go.
"I missed you," Rachel said softly, squeezing Quinn once again for emphasis as she held her along by the wrist, Kurt in tow.
He hurried towards her, enveloping her in a warm hug. "Its so good to see you, Kurt," Quinn exclaimed, mimicking the tight hug.
He let go, carefully scanning Quinn with his doe eyes as he smiled.
He'd gotten more handsome, his jawline bolder and his hair sleeker. Guess everyone was changing.
Sincere emotion had filled Quinn and it felt unfamiliar - it had been so long since she saw the them and despite the video and phone calls, seeing in real life and experiencing their familiarity all over again was just amazing. Being surrounded by those she had temporarily shunned made her feel awful yet so happy.
For a short while at least.
"Come in, and - oh," she paused mid sentence, staring at the new addition. She had just pulled back the door wider to give the duo more room to enter, when she caught of a very, very familiar soul lingering uncomfortably out of sight.
"Hi."
There was a mumbled, "Hello," in response, and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out that the temperature in the vicinity had dropped several notches as hazel eyes refused to meet Santana's own brown ones.
There was an uncomfortable pause.
"Okayyyy, so, Quinn, let's go inside...we might have some issues to talk about. And I brought drinks!" Rachel chirped, her over-compensation for the uncomfortableness blatantly obvious. It seemed to break Santana out of her reverie, as she shrugged nonchalantly and made her way past Quinn into the apartment.
Quinn's eyes trailed the retreating figure, before whipping around to face Kurt, who was still standing outside. "Why is she here?" she hissed angrily, brow wrinkling.
Kurt bristled. "You'll see."