It takes her ten years to get to this point.
Nursing her empty wine glass, the blonde looks out of her apartment window, down to the bustling streets that never seem to sleep. She takes comfort in the luminous street lamps, comforted by the fact that somewhere out there, someone else is busy doing something else - alone. Leaning against the window pane as she moulds herself against the ledge, Quinn Fabray sighs and runs her hands through her locks.
She's done it, finished school, kept some of her high school friends, cleared out some cobwebs and landed a cushy job in New York. She was always aware of her dreams, but never sought out what they were and how to go about chasing them. Looking back, she would have done Prom Queen Quinn proud.
There wasn't anything wrong, per say. It was a good day; breezing through work, catching up with some of her college friends (who were in town for a bit of dinner) and caught a movie by herself to unwind. No, she wasn't lonely, she just preferred to watch a movie alone sometimes to avoid the judgement and undesired noises that came with people who joined in for those movies. Quinn enjoys creating certain impressions of the movie herself before she's willing to share her opinions with others. It's what she does.
Yet as she walked out of the theatre, the unsettling pit in her stomach followed her back to the empty apartment. High school had to be the biggest roller coaster of her life, and with it, a certain petite brunette that always ended up appearing somehow or another along the way. It unnerved her, how said brunette reminded her of that particular someone; the aspirations to get out of a small, unknown town, the determination in dreams, being the lowest in the social ladder alone. Alone.
Quinn paused in her tracks as she came to that realisation. Taking a deep breath, she thanked her lucky stars that at least some of them made out of Lima alive, with some remnants of their youth intact. What's more, that one star was currently gracing the posters hanging off Time Square, calling home to the Broadway stage.
It's the question of what ifs that bothers her. Seeing Carson take the fall, feeling his pain of mediocrity and willing himself through a floating town just to get shot down by life when he settles, glowing dimly, knowing that achieving that spark is now a forgotten past. They were lucky, they knew, and with glee to thank for that. In the alternate universes, she doubts that she would see herself getting out of high school and the god forsaken town. She would probably be dead one way or another. Death by a broken dream or a broken heart. It sounds silly now, but the world could only be so cruel.
Shaking herself out of those muses, Quinn pushes back from the ledge and places the glass into the sink. She makes her way back to the couch and sifts through channels, hoping that something other than magic bullet information would catch her eye. Glancing at the clock to realise that it was barely 10:14pm on a Wednesday afternoon, her eyes land on the photo perched next to the clock. She chuckles as she sees how something she now holds close to her heart would be considered completely absurd 6 years ago.
Within the frame reveals a grinning couple, held together by their pinkies and standing intimately; mutedly boasting their happiness now with more maturity and courage, not like the secret that they kept back in the past. Some power couples make it through high schools without being total losers. On the other side of the photograph, perfectly coiffed hair with a signature smirk graces the features of one Kurt Hummel, who rolls his eyes, crossing his arms slightly, leaning away from a spiky haired brunette with streaks of flaming red scorching through, a tattooed sleeve well covered by her favourite Oxfords. Jamie, she muses. She and Kurt never saw eye to eye with everything (or anything for that matter) and loved to bicker. It never got too intense, but it was always amusing to watch. The blonde's attention once again rivets to the centre of the photo, making a full circle and landing on a slightly worried looking brunette who always somehow manages to steal the spotlight. Dressed in a chic black dress and smokey eyeliner that would make her younger self flip at how stunning she looked even in a candid picture, the broadway star freezes in the frame, chewing on her lower lip and casting a furtive glance towards Kurt's direction, hiding her smile while placing a hand on Santana's lower back. Who would have expected Rachel Berry to be the glue that bounded her crazy friends together? Chuckling quietly, Quinn fondly remembers trying her best to take that photo amidst the noisy background, knowing that this would be the most peaceful picture that she would ever have of her friends. These were her best friends now, they were the a dysfunctional family, and she wouldn't trade it for the world.