Late at night, after the skanks have gone home - after everyone at McKinley is gone - Quinn stays. She has to make sure no one else is around, because if they were around, then they could hear her. And Quinn cannot afford to have anyone hear her. Though it goes against everything Quinn is, she locks herself in the largest bathroom stall.
The acoustics in bathrooms are some of the best, according to Mr. Schuster - and Rachel - so that's why Quinn chooses the place she does to do what she must do. Closed in as she is, Quinn sings in a small, strangled voice. She cannot risk anyone overhearing her.
It is no secret that she is self-destructing. The pink hair. The smoking. The tattoo. Still, there is a part of Quinn she cannot silence. Santana and Brittany haven't helped things, trying to convince her to come back. The truth is, Quinn can't bring herself to be in the same place she was when her life fell apart, piece by piece. First Beth, then everything else.
So, despite the dark, and the claustrophobia that has plagued Quinn since her childhood, she keeps singing. The very thing that scares her, also makes her feel the safest, somehow. She closes her eyes so the closeness of the walls does not register. She sings until she can't anymore. Until she is hoarse.
Then, it definitely registers. She goes for the stall door, and finds it jammed. If Quinn hadn't found something poetic in the darkness, she might have risked hitting the lights before she came in tonight. But she hadn't, so now, here she is, trapped in this tiny space, with no hope. With no help.
Because she can't do anything else, Quinn keeps singing, in a tiny, breathy voice. If she doesn't do this, she is sure, she'll lose her control. That cannot happen.
Time slips away, though, and soon enough, Quinn's resolve goes with it. She shakes, and tries to breathe, but tears fill her eyes. She has well and truly confined herself beyond any hope of rescue. Of course, she could shimmy under the closed door, but that would mean moving beyond the terror that has paralyzed her.
The minutes are endless. They melt into an hour, as the lyrics to her song of choice play in her ear, thanks to her I-Pod. Quinn feels herself being swept away on a current of panic so strong she might never resurface.
"Hello?"
Kurt's voice, when it comes, is unexpected. Suddenly, the room is filled with light and Quinn is trying desperately to get a hold of herself. It's just that it's hopeless, because it's been so long, and even the cigarette she's pulled from her purse cannot calm her nerves.
She is sure he can hear her ragged breathing. Her tears. Even if he isn't sure who the loser is who locked herself in the bathroom stall.
"Quinn?" he calls, and she freezes. "I'd recognize your smoke and perfume scent anywhere. And those boots." He sounds happy, and mildly disapproving.
There is a commotion from the stall next door, and Quinn is shocked when she sees him somehow straddling the high dividers between the two cubicles. He maneuvers like an expert and drops in beside her. Before he does anything else, he opens stall door, letting it fall back against the wall. He boldly takes in her tears. The panic that she tries in vain to hide. He watches, until it subsides, but he doesn't try to touch her.
"Are you okay?" Kurt asks, looking at her in a way that became all-too-familiar to her when the two of them held Sam's secret between them. Like he can sense something, rather than knowing it outright. It's been almost five months since then, and Quinn finds she is grateful that not everything in her life has changed.
"Fine. I just came in here for a cigarette," she says, as if she meant for the rest to happen. "What are you doing in here, anyway?" she asks, because it's easier to gain control when she is the one asking the questions, not answering them.
"I was just coming out of the little boys' room next door. You didn't hear us practicing?" Kurt wonders. "Late-night rehearsal. Rachel wanted to do this Wizard of Oz duet, but we can't very well just bust it out without running it first."
Quinn tips her head slightly, in a way that projects mild interest. Not at all, in a way that suggests that the sounds of Kurt and Rachel's voices across the hall were the sole reason for her choosing this spot. Because, somewhere, she still needs them. Because, somewhere, she still needs the music.
"No, I didn't hear you," Quinn denies, shaking her head and getting to her feet.
Kurt stands, too. His eyes search her own. She hears what he's not saying.
He knows exactly where she is. He has always known.
And her secret will be safe with him.
The End.
A/N: The song Quinn sings is I'm in Here by Sia.