listen before i go
Faberry
Note: No babygate or Lucy AU, title and song in the fic is taken from the talented Billie Eilish. Definitely recommend giving it a listen (side effects may include crying and sobbing).
P.S: I'm breaking my rule of completing a fic before posting, because I just had to get this out. I promise it'll get completed though; no worries about that. I wrote this first part within a bit over an hour, so apologizes if it's not polished, and the chapter lengths will probably get longer as I go.
Warning: Suicide attempt, past/referenced abuse and all the bad things that go along with it, though it's through another character's perspective.
I love y'all.
X-X-X-X-X
Quinn hasn't shown up to Glee for weeks.
It's the first thought that Rachel has when she passes by the choir room and gazes upon the empty seat in the corner.
It had once seated a beautiful blonde with piercing bright eyes, with an even more beautiful mind.
But as junior year passed, the shining light illuminating those pools of hazel dimmed into resigned quiet staring off into dead space, and the brilliant brain that had captured many of a heart faded out of existence.
Within two months, the seat would only see usage once a week.
Within three, none at all.
All of them had tried to seek answers, to uncover something, but a week passed, and she was forgotten.
Even by Rachel.
The brunette had tried everything, from cornering her after Cheerios practice to stalking her back home, but there was absolutely nothing. Complete radio silence.
Quinn would only answer questions with monosyllable words, and she would walk through the crowd like no one existed, passing through without looking at anyone at all. She was still on top of the class, and she was still leading the Cheerios to victory after victory, her stoic and aloof face on as normal, so Rachel gave up.
Rachel gave up on Quinn, and she let herself be blinded by the perfect schoolgirl fantasy of Finn Hudson.
Finn's her leading man, the Fieryo to her Elphaba, the Sonny to her Cher. He's all she's ever wanted, and now that Quinn's out of the way, she has him. It was a win-win – Quinn got her wish to be alone, and Rachel got her wish to be with Finn. So, she shouldn't be worried about such trivial matters, right?
But right then, looking at the empty red seat, she thinks back to the amazing human being just sparkling with life a few months ago, and then she thinks to the empty shell of a husk that seems to be only taking up space and nothing else these days.
Rachel frowns.
X-X-X-X-X
During lunch, she asks the Gleeks if they've seen Quinn, and they all shake their heads.
"Why'd you care anyway, hobbit?" Santana snarks, stopping by to make her daily insult. "Doesn't matter anyway, now that she's basically mute, we have free reign of the school, and everyone has one less dictator to deal with."
Rachel's about to protest, but Mercedes speaks first. "For once, I agree with Santana. White girl don't even bother showing up to Glee, so why should I care about what she's doing? I work my butt off every day, and where is she? Nowhere."
Furrowing her brow and feeling a pit of something aching in her chest, Rachel watches as more of the Gleeks go ahead and make snide comments about the head cheerleader, and how they're glad about how she's not ruling over McKinley anymore.
The utter nausea she feels building up everywhere seems stifling, fanning into an almost unbearable pain, and when Brittany opens her mouth to say, "Quinn's not even at school today," Rachel's stomach drops, and a voice in her head pings for her to listen.
But then, Finn turns to her with a crooked grin, putting his arm around her while he talks about Call of Duty, and Rachel forgets about Quinn again.
X-X-X-X-X
The eerie feeling follows her throughout the day, and when the bell signaling the end of last period, the uncomfortable nausea has seemed to reach a crescendo.
There's no Glee practice today, but Rachel still goes to the choir room nevertheless to practice, diligent as she is.
Walking into the silent room, the quiet nagging that's been chipping at her mind all day intensifies, and she looks upon Quinn's empty chair once more.
Pictures of the stunning blonde dancing around the room gracefully like a swan fill her mind, and when she imagines the cheerleader laughing, she can't find the sound to go along with it. It's at that moment when Rachel realizes.
When was the last time she had heard Quinn laugh?
The thought sends an intangible pain through her chest, aching in all the worst ways possible, and Rachel can't understand why she cares so much.
Sure, Quinn had stopped insulting her shortly after she joined Glee last year, and she had even called off the slushie attacks on her – well, on the entire Glee club – during the last few months of sophomore year, but they had never really talked, or became friends, no matter how much Rachel had tried to reach out.
As a matter of fact, Quinn isn't friends with anyone, really.
The epiphany stabs at Rachel's heart, because as alone as she was back in freshman year, she has people like Kurt and Mercedes now, but Quinn still has no one.
Forcing herself to breathe, she shakes her head to clear her thoughts, and turns to look away from the haunting red chair.
But as she does, she notices a small box placed under it, nondescript and easy to miss if she wasn't explicitly looking, shining under the light's reflection.
Curiosity piqued, Rachel edges forward to grab it, an unsettling feeling rumbling through her. The grey box barely bigger than her hand, it feels light, but yet it rests on her hand like a stone. When she opens it, she finds a CD.
On it are the words 'listen before i go' written in shaky black marker, and the handwriting seems very familiar, calling out to the brunette.
Looking at it for a few seconds, Rachel realizes that it's Quinn's.
The absolute silence adds to the disconcerting voice telling her that something is very, very wrong, and she rushes to push the compact disc into the stereo-player resting on top of the piano.
Quinn's voice, broken and cracked, rings through the choir room like a haunting echo, reverberating off the walls.
"I'm sorry."
That's enough to bring piercing worry to Rachel, but she has no time to dwell on it, because the next thing she knows, Quinn's low alto is consuming her.
Take me to the rooftop
I wanna see the world when I stop breathing
Turnin' blue
Tell me love is endless, don't be so pretentious
Leave me like you do
Rachel doesn't know what's happening, a million thoughts rushing through her mind at light speed. Listening to the lyrics, she frantically worries over what they mean, because it's starting to sound like something that it shouldn't be, and her heart seems to beat out of her chest.
If you need me, wanna see me
Better hurry, 'cause I'm leavin' soon
Quinn's voice cracks as she sings the last few words, sounding so choked and strangled that Rachel's body shakes, heart aching with the urge to comfort someone that isn't even there.
Shit, Quinn might not even be here anymore, and Rachel's mind desperately tries to deny what's quickly becoming clear through the song lyrics, because by the blonde's voice, it isn't a joke, and Rachel just can't.
Sorry can't save me now
Sorry I don't know how
Sorry there's no way out
But down
And as Quinn sings 'hmm, down' once more, she takes in a ragged breath, and Rachel can tell that she's crying. The diva just knows that something is deathly wrong, and that maybe, Quinn's going to…fuck, she can't even bear to think it.
She needs to find a teacher, call someone, or do something except fucking stand there, but she's rooted to the ground, paralyzed, as she listens to Quinn sing brokenly.
The next words come chopped and the melody is disrupted by the cheerleader's sniffles and sobs, but the lyrics are as clear as day, and somehow, that just makes the ache in Rachel's heart worse, because she knew that Quinn had been struggling, but not like this.
Taste me, the salty tears on my cheek
That's what a year-long headache does to you
I'm not okay, I feel so scattered
Don't say I'm all that matters
Leave me, déjà vu
Rachel doesn't know what to think, not even registering the silent tears flowing down her face for the blonde, because the gaping hole in her chest is leaving no coherent room for her to understand or to even breathe, and she can't focus the voice screaming in her head to do something, with only Quinn's scattered breaths and voice coming through the loud rapid beat of her heart, thumping in her ears.
Call my friends and tell them that I love them
And I'll miss them
But I'm not sorry
Call my friends and tell them that I love them
And I'll miss them
Sorry
The 'sorry' barely comes through, ridden by sobs and tears, and then, the sound cuts off.
Rachel takes the CD, and runs.
X-X-X-X-X
With her heart beating a storm, she shakily dials Quinn's number again and again.
She doesn't pick up.
Shit shit shit, Rachel thinks, breathing getting even quicker than before, and she racks her brain to find a solution.
She may be overreacting, but something tells her that she isn't, and that she needed to do something right fucking now.
There wasn't Cheerio practice today, since Coach Sylvester had only come back half an hour ago, but Rachel's desperate, and she crashes into her office.
"Have you seen Quinn?" she pants, thoughts incoherent and heart too in pain to feel anything.
She hopes hysterically that Sylvester will laugh at her and say that Quinn's practicing at the field right now, and like normal, hurl a few insults at her, but that's not the case.
The cheer coach looks grim, and stares down at the Cheerio uniform folded up immaculately placed on her desk. "I found this when I came in a few minutes ago," she mummers quietly, looking the most serious Rachel as ever seen her, and at that moment, the brunette just knows.
"Coach Sylvester," she starts hurriedly, but then, the tracksuit-wearing woman cuts her off, eyes still on Quinn's uniform.
"Q always liked to watch the sky at Lima Tower."
"Thank you," Rachel breathes, and right before she leaves, Sylvester looks her right in the eyes.
"Get back my Head Cheerleader for me."
The diva nods, and she bolts out the door.
X-X-X-X-X
She might be pushing the speed limit a bit, but right now, she doesn't give a flying fuck.
Taking out her phone, she dials Santana's phone number, and hopes to God she'll pick up. The call goes through, and Santana barks, "What'd you want, dwarf?"
"Quinn-Quinn's in trouble," Rachel barely manages to get her thoughts together to rasp out, "I need-I need you to-"
"Wait, hold up, what?" the Latina fires back, "I really don't have time to deal with your drama bullshit, so-"
"Santana, I'm fucking serious here!" Rachel roars through the phone, "She fucking wrote a suicide letter!"
The line goes dead silent, and for a second, the brunette is afraid that Santana had hung up, but then, the Latina's voice rings through, hard and steely. "What do you need me to do?"
"Call the other Gleeks and tell them to help find her," she pants through ragged breaths, chest rising and falling quickly. "I'm-I'm calling her mom after this, and I'm heading to Lima Tower now."
"Got it," Santana sounds put together, but judging by her harsh voice, she's not fairing any better than the diva is. "Call you if anything comes up."
Rachel hears Santana yell "Britt, why would she-why would- fuck!", and then the line goes dead.
Forcing in a sob, the brunette closes her eyes for one second. No time to dwell on things. Making a turn right, she's never been so glad to have been prepared and entered all of the Gleek's emergency contacts into her phone last year, and she smashes the 'dial' button.
It's picked up after two rings, and Judy Fabray's panic-filled voice fills the air. "Hello?"
"I'm Rachel Berry, Quinn's friend, I-"
She's cut off by Judy, "Is-Is my daughter with you? Have you seen her?"
Rachel's throat tightens, and she's afraid that she'll start dry-heaving. "I found a suicide letter from her," she breathes, nausea and headache building up more and more, "I was about to ask you the same thing."
A gasp slices through the phone, and Judy chokes out, "We found one too."
She's about to respond, but then a loud crash of glass breaking rings out through the line, and terrified, the brunette asks, "What's that?"
"Her father," Quinn's mother timidly replies, "He…He read the letter and didn't like some of the things Quinnie wrote."
A million questions well up within Rachel, but she assumes that Quinn wrote a different one for her parents, and she pushes it to the side, because what's important now is finding the blonde and making sure she's okay.
"Never mind that, have you called the police?" the diva asks, pushing even harder on the car pedal. When Judy confirms it, Rachel tries her best to get her bearings. "Okay, call them again, and tell them to go to Lima Tower. I'm headed there now, and I have a feeling she's there."
"On it," Judy hurriedly says, and there's another loud sound of thing's being broken. Taking in a breath, Judy whispers before she hangs up, "I have to go now."
Rachel has never felt so terrified in her life.
X-X-X-X-X
Those fifteen minutes of driving seem like the longest fifteen she's ever experienced, and her heart chokes the whole way through.
Reaching Lima Tower, the sun's already started setting, and the streets are dim and dark, with no one in sight. The light from the top floor barely shines through, and Rachel sprints up the spiral stairs like a maniac, not trusting the elevator at all.
Her heart stops with every step she takes, and all she can hear is the loud beat of her pounding thoughts, rumbling throughout her entire body.
Already taking out her phone to dial 911, she thinks that she's never ran this fast in her meager sixteen years of life, and the thought that Quinn might not even live to see seventeen has her skipping steps even faster, pushing herself to get to the top quicker.
When she reaches the top floor, the dim light shining through the glass ceiling seems to taunt her, and she looks around in a frenzy.
What she sees makes her heart drop, and she feels sick to the stomach, bile building up in the back of her tightening throat.
Quinn's lying on the floor, slack and limp, and bottles of empty alcohol and pills surround her.
Eyes stinging, she looks upon the blonde's lifeless form with mouth open in a silent gasp, and she barely registers her phone picking up.
"Hello, this is 911, how can I help you?"
A strangled cry erupts from her throat. "I found Quinn Fabray."