A/N: Dedicated to one of my favorite ships, Faberry.
Distant was an understatement. Our relationship, which had been born from such odd circumstances, but flourished so perfectly between the two of us, was faded, and still fading. Both of us, such strong wills, we tried to stay in denial as long as we could. Those long nights that we used to spend making passionate love, we now spent in our respective houses, with the odd text message between us. When we did make love, it lacked the fiery undertone. Of course, it remained excellent sex. It was Quinn Fabray for Christ sake! But was it the kind of sex we'd been having? The kind where we couldn't get each other's clothes off fast enough? The kind where it was so urgent that we would make excuses to leave a room, only to meet in the bathroom moments later with a kiss so heated, it could've melted our clothes off? No. It wasn't. I suppose it could still be called "making love" but it was getting closer and closer to just "sex." I don't know where things went so numb between us. We always had drive and hunger and craving. And that isn't even just about sex. It was always intense between us, from the first drunken night at Noah's house when she sloppily kissed me before passing out on the spare bedroom floor up until about two months ago when she showed up at my opening night of West Side Story with the biggest bouquet of flowers I've ever seen. And everything inbetween. We both saw the end, but neither of us was strong enough to call a spade a spade. I assumed we'd continue on in this monotone lifestyle until one of us found what we were looking for elsewhere.
She invited me over, and I went. It had been almost two days since we had actually spent quality time together. I always had, and would, enjoy her company. Despite the outer circumstances. I didn't know anything was different tonight. I assumed the same would happen tonight as it had been every night. I walked in and she was sitting on the couch. I came to sit beside her and I leaned in to kiss her, but something stopped me.
Meeting her eyes should have been a familiar and even comforting experience, a gesture as common as breathing. But this time it chilled my blood. I saw, in this one look from Quinn, my life as I had known it for the last 2 and half years, changing very drastically. She opened her mouth to speak, but I needed no words. Her eyes had given me volumes of unspoken explanations that I would never fully understand, or even want to. I was afraid to look back into those eyes, those now endless voids of dark, for pure fear of confirmation of what I saw. Though I needed nothing more to make it known.
"Don't…" I spoke in a whisper.
Meeting my fate, I fell back into those eyes that were saying everything she had been afraid to say for the last two months.
"Rach, I love you…" She choked out. Her words broke the spell her eyes had cast on me. "But I don't love you, like I loved you, yesterday."