First story I've written in ages because, I just became obsessed with Faberry, for some reason (And Lion!Quinn). So, warnings would include OOC-ness (a lot, actually), &some events are changed (as in, I haven't watched the first season in forever, and I've only seen half of season two, so don't judge me), and also, some cursing (I'm not really sure how much would cause this to be M; so, tread carefully, young people); it goes right on from the confrontation between Quinn and Shelby at the beginning of season 3.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Glee. Or, Chubbie's. Because that's something I took from BoyMeetsWorld. So, Yeah. /Awkward.
"Are you really telling me that this is who you are?" She motions towards my outfit.
There is silence as we stare each other down; neither one willing to back down because of pride.
We're standing in the middle of her new classroom; Puck is near the door listening to our heated exchange. To him, I'm angry at this woman who takes care of our child, my child. But, I know she sees it in my eyes. I'm torn as she speaks this sentence. If he wasn't standing in the doorway, I'm pretty sure I would've completely broken down in front of her.
But, I can feel his presence behind me still, so I stay silent as she continues on about me and who I am. The words reach my ears, but I don't listen. I continue to stand there until she leaves the room. I turn and follow behind her a few moments later; He tries to grab my arm, but I push him away before making my way through the hallways and to the roof.
'Is this really who I am?' the question hangs above my head but I ignore it, 'She doesn't know who I am. I know who I am.' I reassure myself, nodding to myself, and then stopping when I feel the dull throb of an approaching headache start.
My head feels even worse as I finally reach the Skanks who are sitting on the ground at the far corner of the roof.
"Where the fuck you been?"
"None of your business." I snap at one of them. My hand goes up to my head. One of them hands me a pack of Marlboro's and I thankfully take a cigarette out.
We stand on the roof for a while as they talk about what we're going to do after school; which confuses me, considering we don't usually go to classes, anyways. I make no move to become a part of their conversation, and simply bring the filtered cigarette up to my mouth until I need another.
It's nearly twenty minutes later and I'm halfway through my second one- which would be my fifth of the day- when the conversation turns to some activity that includes dogs and spray paint.
"You in or out?"
"Yeah, whatever." I mumble, standing and picking up my bag. "What time?"
"Tonight. Seven." Mack says, her eyes rolling at my obvious lack of interest. "We'll meet up behind Chubbie's."
I carelessly toss the butt of the cigarette off the side of the building, smirking as I hear someone yell down below. Shouldering my bag, I throw a mumbled 'later' to the skanks behind me and mindlessly make my way down the stairs as the bell signals the start of another class; the halls are slowly being deserted and I sigh heavily. I stand restlessly in the now empty corridor and tentatively consider going to my next class.
'What's the point?'
I roll my eyes and make my way to the doors that lead out to the parking lot. I start to walk towards the gates, thinking about sneaking home and taking some pills and sleeping off this headache.
"Quinn?"
I hear a light voice from behind me and turn around to see the last person I had expected to be standing there. Her arms are full of textbooks and she has one of her stupid colorful horse sweaters on.
"What?" I snap, smirking at the obvious look of discomfort that appears on her face.
She shifts from foot to foot, readjusting her books in her arms before she finally decides to say, "Where are you going?"
"None of your business, Berry."
I turn and begin walk away from her, but she's damn persistent.
"You know, Quinn," I hear her footsteps behind me as she follows me towards the gate. "I told you before that I'm here, but I want you to know that I-" She hear her footsteps stop for a second, and I picture her nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot behind me. "I won't judge you."
This makes me stop. I slowly turn around to face her, my eyes darting back and forth between hers.
"Listen, Berry," My voice is full of as much venom I can muster, "I'm not going to just come crawling to you because you say you 'won't judge' me. Everyone says that, and it has no meaning. So, why don't you just turn around, go back to class, and leave me alone?"
I glare at her and watch as her face shows a mixture of emotions.
'I've never been good at reading people.' I muse silently, my face still keeping up the glare. I wait for a few moments and then she finally recovers from my words. "I get that you don't want people saying empty words to you, Quinn. But, I'm being sincere when I say I won't judge you."
Letting her words sink in, I blink before turning around and walking through the open gate.
"No one deserves to be alone, Quinn!"
"I do." I mutter, slipping past the gate and continuing on my way to my house.
It's quiet when I enter, which is what I expected. Climbing the stairs to my room, I wince when I hear the shuffling of clothes in between sheets as I pass her room. The door is shut, but there's soft music playing. I can practically smell the alcohol seeping under the crack between the carpet and door. Stepping carefully, I make my way to my closed bedroom door. A gentle turn of the handle and I slip quietly inside. Ignoring the louder than expected click, as I shut it behind me, I begin to move quietly in a well-practiced routine.
Shouldering my bag off, I let it slide through my grasp and onto the bed. Toeing my shoes off, I walk to my window and slide it open. There's no breeze today. I simply look out the window and see the closed blinds of our neighbor's own window directly across from mine. Turning away, I go to my bag and rifle through it until I find my cigarettes resting harmlessly in the side pocket.
Ten minutes later, I find myself rubbing out the glowing tip and tossing the butt into the make shift ashtray near the window. Not bothering to close the window, I turn and lay myself down across my bed. My eyes are closed when I hear the staggered steps of mother dearest as she makes her way down the stairs and to the liquor cabinet. Twelve minutes later, I hear her heavy footfalls as she makes her way back up; the click of her own door echoes in my ears long after she lies down and falls asleep again.
I drift off to sleep until I hear the unmistakable sounds of her getting up again. She creeps around her room before I hear her footsteps approach my own door. She knocks one, twice, three times before poking her head inside.
"Quinnie?" I make a noise in the back of my throat to show I'm awake, even though we both know it wouldn't matter. "I'll be back late, again. I have to help out at the center tonight for next week's harvest dinner." I listen to her as her words slur together slightly and I'm not sure if she realized it or not. But, she nods slightly when I don't say anything and leaves me alone to make her way out of the house.
It was a weak excuse; I know this, she knows this. But, we pretend we're okay. She leaves soon after, and I vaguely wonder if I should stop her from driving while obviously still under the influence of alcohol.
Instead, I roll over and look at the alarm clock beside my bed as I hear the gentle crunch of car tires as she pulls out of the driveway.
I should probably start walking to Chubbie's.
"You know," I start, flicking the butt of my cigarette down on the ground before stepping on it harshly. "We should probably find something better to do with our time than sitting around talking about shit to do."
We ended up sitting on trashcans in the alleyway beside Chubbie's like some sort of alley cats. I can hear the cars go by, but my back is to them, and I, again, wonder why we're still standing here.
"Fuck off, Fabray, we had a plan until you showed up late."
"For being badasses, you guys suck at doing shit."
"Whatever, Princess. Why don't you fuckin' run back to them clean freaks instead of hanging around us if you care so much about doing shit?"
"Fuck this."
Turning around, I started walking back home; I really didn't feel like dealing with their stupidity right now. Making my way out the alley and turn to walk down the street until I felt something – or, rather, someone- bump into my shoulder. Holding back a snarl, I glare down at the hood-covered head of none other than Rachel Berry.
"What the fuck? Stalking me, are you?" I sneer at her as she finally looks up at me. I step back slightly when I see the unshed tears in her eyes and refuse to give into the urge to help her up.
"No, Quinn. Even though I meant what I said earlier today, I'm not going as far as to stalk you after-school hours." She sniffles a bit after saying this and moves to push herself up.
I clench my fists tightly at my sides as I watch her stand and carefully brush her clothes off. Turning to face me, she gives me another small, sad smile before nodding politely and side-stepping me to continue on her path. Refusing the temptation to turn around and call after her, I set my shoulders towards home and slowly begin walking home.
"How are you?"
It's a shy question, almost non-existent had she said it more quietly. But, I hear it and I'm forced to answer by some unknown force within me.
"I'm fine, Berry." I say it quikly and quietly, hoping no one can hear us from the back of the Chemistry room. We're doing in-class papers today. I spent the better half of the period staring at the paper and stiffly sitting next to Rachel Berry.
'The one time I come to class and we have fuckin' time to talk.' I think to myself, glancing up from the answer-less sheet in front of me. Kids are sitting on their tables, talking rather loudly, and I'm just waiting for hell to break loose as the teacher stands up and walks out of the classroom without a glance back.
"Are you?"
I sit quietly in my chair as she puts her own pencil down and grabs her bag resting against the leg our table. She pulls out a red and blue folder and neatly tucks her finished assignment inside the left pocket. She tucks it quickly back into her bag and I realize that she's giving her full attention to me now.
"Yes." I say, putting down my own pencil and pushing my blank assignment away from me. Leaning back, I cross my arms over my chest and begin to glare at the few kids who are daring to look at me.
There's a silence between us; her attention is on me and I'm desperately trying to look anywhere except her. Some loser-jock gets up from his seat and heads to the front of the room. I watch as he uncaps a marker and starts to write something in blue.
"Quinn," Rachel's voice is soft and I can barely hear it over the sound of laughter and bullying from the other kids in the room. "If you'd just talk to someo-"
"Stop it, Berry." I say sharply, now turning to glare at her small frame. "I told you before," I watch as she ducks her head to avoid my gaze. "Just. Leave. Me. Alone."
I grab my bag from under my chair and shoulder it; not really caring if the teacher is back or not, I make my way towards the door. I hear a few comments directed at me and ignore them. The hallways are deserted and I realize that it's barely halfway through the lessons. A few minutes later, I find myself sitting below the bleachers on the hard pavement. I'm searching through my bag for my pack of cigarettes when I hear footsteps approaching. I ignore them until I see the black dress shoes and argyle-clad socks standing directly in front of me.
Groaning in frustration, I stop my search to glare up at her.
"I know you don't want to talk to me, but-" I raise my hand to stop her from finishing her sentence.
"I honestly don't want to deal with your whole 'come back to glee' shit right now, Berry."
"Quinn, please, just hear me out this time and I promise I'll let you get back to whatever you're doing." Hearing the pleading tone in her voice, I sigh and blow a strand of hair out of my face before turning back to my bag.
"Fine."
She sits down on the concrete beside me before folding her hands in her lap. Figuring she's not going to say anything until I give her my full attention, I sigh heavily and dump the contents of my bag out. She continues to sit in silence and I realize that my pack of cigarettes weren't even in my bag as I glance through the various objects spread out in front of me.
"Is that-" She says, picking up the small baggie that fell out in front of her, "Is this pot?" I snatch it quickly out of her hand and stuff it back into my bag.
"Didn't your mom ever teach you not to touch what isn't yours?" I snap at her. I see her stiffen at my lack of tact and choice of words out of the corner of my eye. Ignoring the sudden need to apologize to her, I hurriedly start stuffing the rest of my stuff back into my bag.
"No." My movements stop for a second as I hear her small voice respond to me. I quickly zip up my bag and shake my head.
"Whatever."
I refuse to look directly at her, and can see her movements from the corner of my eye. She shakes her head slightly as I begin to fiddle with the zipper on my bag. Knowing she has every right to leave me alone under the bleachers right now, I wait for her to get up and leave.
Instead, I'm slightly surprised when she unfolds her hands and moves to sit right in front of me. My bag is on my lap and I really don't want to look up and talk to her.
"Quinn," she starts, gently grabbing the bag from me and pushing it to the side. I want to be mad at her, to say something about not touching my bag, but my voice seems to die in my throat when my eyes look up and into hers.
Seeing she has my attention, she starts to quietly talk.
"I know you said yesterday that you want me to leave you alone, but, I just can't." She takes a deep breath as if she's plucking up the courage to keep talking. "I cannot simply leave someone alone if I know they're hurting so bad that they have to resort to drugs," she motions towards my bag. "in order to cope with everything. Quinn, you're more than that. I know you are. You helped me, and I thought we were friends."
"We're not friends." I say before I can stop myself.
"I know." She says gently, "I know, Quinn. But, even though we aren't now, it seemed like we were once." She places a hand on my knee and I know I should want to push it away but I make no attempt to move it. "And, that's enough for me, Quinn."
She waits for me to say something, but I simply drop my gaze to the pavement that's between us. Before I realize it and can fight it, I feel my throat begin to tighten and my eyes start watering. I feel the sobs wracking my frame and I'm too tired to even fight her as she moves to sit beside me and wrap her arms around me.
Minutes later, I'm trying to get my breathing to slow down and force my tears to stop. I can hear her voice in my ear and it only takes a quiet 'It's okay, Quinn,' from her before I break down sobbing again and turning completely into her embrace. She begins to rub my back soothingly and I'm relaxing into her warm body before I can even think twice.
Nearly ten minutes later, my sobs begin to lessen but I can still feel the tears running down my face as she gently rocks our bodies back and forth. My breathing is finally evened out and I can still hear her murmuring quiet things above me; words of comfort that I can't hear, yet they mean more to me than I want them to.
I pull my head slowly, gently, away from the crook of her neck, just enough to reach a hand up between her body and mine, and she slackens her grip but doesn't completely let go. Reaching my hand up to wipe away the disgusting snot running from my nose, I sigh quietly before tentatively moving my head back onto her shoulder. She wraps her arms tighter around me and doesn't say anything else.
We sit there for a bit longer until we hear the far-off ringing of the bell that signals lunch. I sigh, and then stiffen in her arms when I realize I really don't want to leave her embrace. She notices this and slowly begins to pull her arms away from me.
"No, no, no, no," I start chanting under my breath, my mind starts racing with different thoughts and I can't even distinguish what makes sense, "no, no, no, no, no."
"Quinn," She starts, reaching for my hand as I start to push my body away from hers. I quickly grab my bag and hurriedly make my way out from under the bleachers away from Berry and my unexpected emotions.
"What are you doing home so early?"
"I'm not feeling well."
"All right."
It's as simple as that. No other words to exchange with a daughter she's still quietly ashamed of. No words of comfort to her obviously hurting daughter. Nothing. She leaves with the quiet click of the door shutting, and I'm alone again. I fall back again on to the cold sheets on my bed and sigh.
'Is life really supposed to be this hard?'
I stare up at the white, blank ceiling. My thoughts are turning towards a dark path I thought I had outgrown years ago. I tried once, weeks ago, to keep myself from going down that dark, mysterious, yet intriguing path that had once consumed me. Until I realized I didn't have any reason to keep myself from venturing on it.
'Why can't I do anything right?'
The words seem to appear and light up the ceiling above me. Then I realize that they hang over me, every single day. But, it isn't until these moments, (when I'm alone with my memories and emotions,) can I properly turn and see them. They mock me, yes. Torment me. Taunt me with thoughts of my child I gave up, the one I would probably never get back; thoughts of getting pregnant in the first place; thoughts of getting thrown out into the world with nowhere else to go. Back to the words of a father who would never love his daughter again. The words of a mother who says she cares more for her daughter than her husband; yet leaves her daughter, again, when she needs her most.
'Why don't people seem to care?'
This thought hurts the most. Maybe it's because I know it's true. There's nobody coming to rescue me from this hole. Nobody was there to help when I got thrown out of a truck at 3 AM after he took from me what I had only given once before. Nobody was there to comfort me when I was alone. Nobody's here to comfort me now.
But, wait.
No, please, not those thoughts, again.
But, there she is, again; crossing my mind without my permission; comforting me without my consent; chasing me when I can't stop running.
She's there. But, why?
'Why does Berry care?'
I know she has no reason. She has never had a reason to come and help me. Yet, there she is once again. She's skipping classes to search for me; skipping classes to help me. She's coming out of nowhere; following me, chasing me, holding me, comforting me. She comes from nowhere when I least expect it. She's there.
'She's there.'