Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters.

A/N: Hello everyone. I've decided to do a little mini-series. This is part two or so in the series. The first story in this is Cheater, so I highly recommend you read that story before you read this one. I'll be updating That Which I Have Loved very soon (my multi-chapter, Marching Band/Band-verse based faberry fanfic) so everyone keep posted for that. Please leave a comment so that I know what I need to work on, I'd greatly appreciate it :) Thank you so much for reading this story.

Confused

TheSilentPen

You are so confused.

Not just by the way events had unfolded in a blinding torrent before her eyes, but by the manner in which things were now proceeding.

Slowly.

Painfully.

A year ago, one agonizing year ago, things ended terribly. Your girlfriend ended things with you in a less than clean way, stating that she 'didn't know whether or not she loved you or her affair more than you.'

And you knew at the time that such a thing was impossible. How could you subject the one you loved to such agony? To the pain of knowing what it's like to have someone cheat on you while you remain abstinent.

Because you never cheated on her while you were in her relationship.

You gave her more.

More time, more consideration….

You gave her your heart.

And she took it in her thorned hands and threw it scornfully to the ground. The moment you found her in bed with Sam Evans, she slaughtered it mercilessly.

And for a while you were pained. You physically felt every shard of your heart stuck into the innards of your chest, burning every time you attempted to continue your pathetic life by drawing in breath. You cried for her even though she didn't deserve a moment of your consideration or pity.

And then you were okay. You were able to pass her in the halls without a single inkling of pain in your heart, only a small yearning present on the fringes of your mind as her hazel eyes bore into your chocolate orbs. But you knew that you could never have her, because she wasn't good for you.

She made your heart scorch you in a two month Hell that you never deserved.

But as time passes by, she looks at you with something akin to hatred.

She trips you in the hallways, hits you in the face. Slaps you when you are carrying piles of sheet music from the copier to the music room.

And it's the ultimate insult when she sneers at you and says

"The thought of ever being in a relationship with you disgusts me."

And you know that she's mad. Mad that you ended your relationship after her 'simple' mistake. After never even giving her a single chance to repent.

In your heart, you want to give her that chance again, but there's something in you that knows without a shadow of a doubt that it's not good for you.

She's not good for you.

So you try to carry on with your life, vaguely aware of the fact that she stares so longingly at you, that you sometimes want to cry at the melancholy note in those pretty eyes that you once worshipped, that you once treasured above all else.

But again, you ignore it.

Two months pass, and her relationship with the Golden Boy ends. She turns to you for comfort, and all you can do is just stand there and shrug your shoulders. All you can do is turn your head and ignore her desperation, because she always used to mount her stress on your shoulders, and you don't want to be apart of that anymore. You're tired of being Atlas.

But just as quickly as that relationship ends, she's in another one with her baby Daddy.

She flaunts the amount of sex she has with him. Tells you every unwanted detail, even as you walk hurriedly down the halls, attempting to escape into the inner sanctions of a teacher's classroom so that you can be left alone for once.

You even shove her away from you and angrily scream.

"I don't CARE about you and your fucking sexcapades! Just leave me the Hell alone, I don't NEED to hear about this."

But she ignores you after that statement.

"Listen RuPaul, if I want to tell you something, you will listen to me. I'm a Cheerio, you're a nobody. You should be HAPPY to hear what I'VE got to say, a LOSER like you."

You slap her, watching her eyes widen and several onlookers staring at you, bewildered that normally mild manneredRachel Berry would dare slap THE Quinn Fabray.

But you take little time to observe as you spin on your heel and leave her to her loneliness.

But after a month, you run into her in the bathroom, and you see that she's trying to conceal several vicious, bleeding bites on her neck.

Bites that SCREAM of Noah Puckerman's mouth. Of his vicious ownership.

And you feel some sort of pity.

So you silently take out your container of professional brushes from your backpack, gently taking the bottle of concealer and dabbing it skillfully across the markings.

And you listen to her claims of Puck's violence. You give her some advice sternly, then you turn on your heel and you leave.

A week later, they break up.

For a while, she's single again, though she noticeably spends a lot of time with a Senior named Dagne Eastrule who recently transferred from Carmel in late September. The two of them get along well.

And you, you resign yourself to your work, and for a long time nothing happens.

Until somehow she finds your phone number and frantically tells you that she's in love with Dagne.

And all you tell her to do is tell Dagne.

There's nothing else you can offer her. You can feel your heart squealing for the opportunity to get back with her, but you don't take it.

Because Quinn Fabray means nothing to you anymore.

Quinn Fabray isn't good for you.

But one night, at Finn's Glee party, you find yourself helping a rather drunk Quinn Fabray into an empty room to sober up.

You lower her gently onto the nearby cot, tucking her gently under the covers. And as you begin to rise from the bed, slender fingers grab the back of your neck and pull your face rather tightly against her own.

Your lips meet, and you curse it, because you can feel that layer of resistance that you've built up slowly for the last few months begin to crack ever so slightly. Just enough to make the pain very much present as a sharp prick in the back of your mind.

And you slap her hands away, drawing yourself from her warmth and focusing on healing those cracks up once more. You try to put on a passive expression, to hide the fear and alarm that you feel.

"Rachel…" She reaches out for you once more, fingers grabbing at your shoulders. " 'M'sorry for everything I did… I regret 'hat I 'id…" Her hazel eyes tear up, sparkling as they look into your seemingly impassive chocolate orbs.

"It's all water under the bridge now, Quinn," you say softly, tucking her back beneath the covers as she shakes her head desperately, blonde rivulets falling prettily across her face in the process.

" 'ut I love you…"

Those words send pain and ice into your blood, and instantly, you're as angry as you were months ago. Yet she says it with such devotion and adoration shining in her eyes, there's some part of you that wants to believe it.

But that slurred speech and the hazy edge over her eyes bring you back to reality.

She's drunk, she has no idea what she's saying.

"No," you say gently, trying to keep the rage and revulsion from your features, "You love Dagne, remember? Our fling ended a while ago."

" 'asn't a fling…" Quinn's eyes bore deeply into yours. "…They 'ust a replacement… for you…"

You desperately want to find truth in that statement. But you can't allow yourself to hope.

"You're drunk, Quinn."

You turn and walk on your heel to the door, ignoring her gentle whimpers of your name as you stride across the threshold.

Immediately, you find yourself going straight to Dagne, murmuring gently that Quinn was very much drunk and that she would probably need help sobering up.

And the brunette's gray eyes shine concernedly as she thanks you, shaking your hand between two warm palms. Without another word, she ascends the staircase to take care of the girl.

That night in bed, you cry as much as you can. When day broke, it wouldn't be acceptable for you to cry anymore, but tonight, it's fine. No one can see you. No one can hear you or make fun of you.

You're alone, so it's okay to cry.

You think about how much she hurt you and how much she betrayed you. You can only reflect on her bare body, tightly clasped against one much more muscular than your own. The shock of pale against false tan. The airy, yearning gasps of a name that was not yours.

And the pain of that night tears a fresh, clean wound into your scarred heart.

You curse Quinn Fabray for holding such power over you. You curse her for having to bring up such a thing, drunk or not, after you were so on your way to healing.

She just had to kiss you.

The next day at school, you act as though she hasn't said a word. You walk straight past her in the halls, per usual, and set your books in your locker, humming lightly, eyes glancing back at the blonde every few moments.

You feel your heart crack a little as Dagne strides up to her locker, grabbing the girl in a gentle embrace, smiling contentedly at her.

But you knew that this would happen. The truth always hurts, and lies delude the heart into believing that something that doesn't exist does. It seems that your heart has done quite a number this time.

As you absentmindedly stare into space, you find hazel eyes following your every movement over Dagne's slight shoulder. They trail absently up your casual, unusually skin tight ensemble with a hint of lust and something else welling within them.

You find yourself ignoring her, trying to forget the fact that her eyes are moving sensuously over your every curve. All you can focus on right now is patching up the pain in your heart.

'Quinn Fabray isn't good for you. She hurt you. She cheated on you. She needed to choose between you and someone else.'

You never want to be a choice. You never want to be second to someone else, just for her own securities. And that's the only thing that really keeps you from pursuing her.

Quinn Fabray has no self-esteem. She will always want more, especially from the ones she loves. She twists and manipulates them till they bend easily to her will.

You're not willing to be enslaved anymore.

You're your own person, with your own dreams and your own heart.

Your locker slams shut and you head off to Spanish, walking straight past Dagne and Quinn, head down, avoiding the hot gaze you still feel wandering lustfully up your body.

You need to let go.

But there's no way you can predict the future as well as you could when you were a starry-eyed diva.

There's no way you can be certain of anything.

Not when you're so confused.

So unsure.

You don't know if you'll ever not love Quinn Fabray.