Rachel was sitting at her desk, staring at the snow falling outside. The desk was in the cramped living room of her tiny apartment, just below the window. The only lights on were her desk lamp and the Christmas lights that framed both of the windows, and her bedroom door. She wanted to set the appropriate mood for what she was working on.

It was a letter to Quinn. She had mentioned during one of their hours-long phone calls that she had always liked receiving letters. She had planned on sending Quinn a Christmas package anyway, but now it would include a proper letter instead of simple card or note.

She was having trouble finishing the letter. Rachel felt there was something more she needed to say but wasn't certain how to say it. She scanned over what she had written already.

It was long and rambling, covering topics as varied as the beauty of the city just after the first snowfall to the artistic merits of modern horror movies versus those of decades past.

It almost as if she had taken her side of one of their phone conversations and put it to paper, but she understood what Quinn meant about writing letters. It was the same words, but it somehow felt more personal than a phone cal or instant messages.

She needed to write about what had happened between them the last time Quinn had visited. She knew this way, Quinn wouldn't ignore her words. She thought that if she didn't take this chance, Quinn would shut her out, and then they would just be stuck. But how did she open this issue? It wasn't something that she could just throw out there, at least not without scaring Quinn off.

Facts. Facts were always a good place to start.

We have become very good friends over the past year. Closer than I could have hoped when I first reached out to you. I would consider you to be my best friend. I feel a connection with you that I've never felt with anybody else. I feel like you know me better than anyone, myself included. I trust you with my secrets, and I know you trust me, even if you aren't as open as I am.

I understand that you are a very private person, and that talking about things can be difficult for you. I just need to tell you how I am feeling right now.

Two weeks ago, something changed between us. You kissed me. I say that because I am reasonably certain that you initiated the actual kiss, but we are both responsible for the events that led up to it. When you kissed me, well, I can't really find the words to describe what I felt. You know how verbose I normally am.

It made me reconsider a lot of things that I thought I was certain of.

I love you, Quinn. I love you as a friend, and as more than that as well. I want to give whatever this is a shot. I think you feel the same way, but I can't be sure. You get so closed off when you try to protect yourself. I don't want you to feel like you have to protect yourself from me. Whatever you feel for me, you can talk to me. I won't judge you. I won't try to push you into anything. I will support you, because above all else, you are my friend. I will always be here for you.

I miss you. We've talked since the kiss, but it's not the same. You're being subtle about it, but I can still see that you are trying to push me away. Please don't. More than anything, I want you to be here. I want to watch cheesy movies with you, and talk about books and music, and teach you vegan cooking. I miss my best friend.

Please call me, whenever you're ready.

She paused for a moment to consider her signature.

(hopefully) Yours, Rachel

Once the letter was folded it was packed into a box with a mountain of Rachel's cookies, a book Quinn had been looking for, an 'I Love NY' shirt, and some strange tasting imported candy canes that Quinn liked. Rachel sealed the box and wrote the address on it. She bundled herself up in her coat, scarf and mittens to take the parcel to the post office.

Once the box was sent on its way, Rachel trudged glumly back to her apartment through the wet snow.

It would take a couple of days for the box to reach Quinn. When she read the letter, she would probably either ignore it, or shut Rachel out completely. She was trying to change, but Rachel feared this would just push her a little too far.

She barely noticed her surroundings as she climbed the stairs to her floor. She rounded the final corner in her path, and was faced with something she couldn't ignore. A very familiar looking person was sitting in front of her door.

A very familiar looking person who should have been in New Haven studying for her exam on Friday.

"Quinn?" The other girl shot up when her name was called and moved unusually close to Rachel.

"Rach." She took a moment to collect her thoughts, or maybe just to stare into Rachel's eyes. "I wanted to see you. I couldn't wait. Look, the other week, that kiss, it meant something to me. I lo—car—oh, fuck it. I love you. Like, in the romantic way. And I really want to be with you. So, will you be my girlfriend?"

Rachel just gaped at her.

"Please say something," Quinn said nervously.

"Yes!" Rachel kissed Quinn quickly on the lips. "Yes, yes, yes." She punctuated each word with another kiss.

Quinn, who had finally processed Rachel's response, squealed loudly. She then pushed Rachel up against the wall and kissed her passionately.

"I love you, too," Rachel said when they broke apart for air. Quinn dived back in almost before she was done speaking.

I took them quite a while to make their way into the apartment.