Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of the characters. I'm strictly borrowing them in order to bring life to my own little world.
Spoilers: future fic, so none I guess.
A/N: This is just a little drabble I wrote up a couple of nights ago. It's emotionally heavy, because that's how I've been feeling.
A/N2: I'd just like to say thank you to everyone who reviewed "Good Enough" and "If I Had You". They were written to get me through a very tough time, so I'm glad they made for good reading at least :)
Her Heart
"How could you do this to me?" Rachel yelled as tears stained her beautiful face, "To us? How could you do this Quinn?"
My mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but emanated no sound, unable to provide any comfort or relief for her pain. I had no reply. How could I have done this? How could I have even thought of risking what we had, what had taken so long to build? It had been stupid of me, far worse than the adolescent foolishness we'd had to overcome, and I couldn't think of anything that would make it better.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, willing myself to say anything as she stared at me expectantly, her body shaking in her struggle to control herself.
"Sorry?" she whispered harshly, "You're sorry?" she then screeched, and I flinched, knowing I'd said the wrong thing.
"I'm sorry," I said again, "I'm so, so sorry," I cried out. I knew I shouldn't be repeating it, but I didn't know what else to say and a pathetic part of me was hoping that if I said it enough, she might believe it and forgive me. But once again I knew I'd made a mistake, her clenched fists said as much.
"Get out," she ordered and I instantly stiffened, eyes widening at the uncharacteristic coldness in her voice. I'd never heard her sound so void of emotion before and it sent a terrifying chill down my spine. But my lack of physical reaction must have ticked her, igniting a raging fire that had nothing to do with the passionate flames that used to burn for me. "Get out! Get out! Get out!" she shouted, shoving me back towards the door.
"Rachel please," I begged desperately, trying in vain to wrap myself around her, only to be met by a resounding slap across the cheek.
"Don't you dare touch me," she stated shakily, her chest moving rapidly as her breathing grew heavier, "Don't you dare."
I couldn't move. My cheek burned, but I couldn't acknowledge it, the pain was incomparable to that in my heart as the possibility of losing her started sinking in.
"How could you do this?" Rachel whispered brokenly. Her shoulders sagged and she fell onto her knees, clutching her face in her hands and muffling her heartbroken sobs.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I dropped onto all fours and slowly crawled over to her. It took every last ounce of strength not to reach out and touch her, but I knew she still needed space and I was determined to give it to her, as well as anything else that would warrant me a chance to save this.
"I love you," I choked out, unaware of when the tears had started falling, but desperate to know if she still believed it, "I love you so much and I'm so sorry Rachel," I went on, clawing at the floor to keep my hands at bay when she flinched, "It was a stupid, stupid mistake and I never should've put you through that."
"Then why did you?" she asked softly, refusing to meet my gaze as her hands dropped in a heap onto her lap, "I warned you about her Quinn and you ignored me… my opinion is supposed to mean something to you."
I swallowed again, aware that this whole scene could've been avoided if I'd just listened to her instead of chucking it up to her jealousy (and even that should've been reason enough for me to listen considering how well she deals with my possessive nature).
But I was an artist. An artist who craved recognition and she'd been willing to give it to me… with conditions.
"She just wants to sleep with you Quinn," Rachel had warned me time and time again, "This has nothing to do with your paintings."
"Well excuse you if the idea of someone actually liking my work seems farfetched," I'd replied bitterly, "I thought you were supposed to support me."
"You know I do," she'd stated softly, "But I also know how blinded you can be when it comes to your art, just like you know how blinded I can be when it comes to making it on Broadway… but you have to believe me that she doesn't see your art when she looks at you… she looks at you the way you look at me… when you want me."
I still hadn't been convinced, but I loved Rachel, so we agreed on a compromise. Apart from auditioning like a madwoman, Rachel worked at a restaurant, so we'd decided to have my upcoming meeting with her there.
"It does, Rachel you know it does," I said, stopping my hand from cupping her cheek a mere inch away from her skin.
"But you let her flirt with you," she countered, "You let her touch you the way I touch you," she went on, finally looking up to meet my eyes, "You let her kiss you and you let her insult me to my face… you didn't defend me."
The urge to look away from those angry eyes had never been so strong, having only been used to their natural warmth, but I forced myself to maintain the contact, knowing I owed her at least that.
"If I hadn't dropped the plate," she started hesitantly, "Would you have pulled away from her?"
"Of course," was my immediate response. There was no need to think about it, I loved Rachel with all my heart and nothing would ever change that.
The answer seemed to please her as a small smile pulled at her lips and I couldn't help mirroring it.
"Are you going to see her again?" Rachel then asked, and it pained me how uncertain she sounded.
"Never again Rachel," I breathed out, unable to resist pulling her into my arms any longer. A shaky breath escaped my lips when I felt her melting against me, holding on to me just as tightly.
I knew this wasn't it. We wouldn't magically go back to the way we used to be, but knowing she still loved me enough to try filled me with such happiness that I found myself crying those mythical tears of joy.
Rachel loved me and she wasn't leaving me and I would forever do my best to prove to her that I was worthy of her heart.