"Why do you let him do that to you?"
It's true. I let him get away with so much. You may ask what is going on, or why I am hiding in a deserted (or so I had thought) bathroom on valentines day. I can tell you that it isn't because I am lonely - I'm not crying because I have no boyfriend, or because I have no valentines. I have a few. Although, one of them is 'Jewfro', and I'm not sure he counts. I'm not going to blame allergies, as that would be lying, which I have always prided myself in not doing. I suppose I should know by now that bathrooms aren't the best place to hide; always the first place people will look.
"What else am I supposed to do?"
It's true. I never wanted to be the clingy, anxious to please, eager to forgive-and-forget kind of girlfriend, but spending time in this hell-hole that I am forced to call home has made me forget about the rules of affection. Small shows of kindness, which others may regard as a simple courtesy, are enough to make me go weak at the knees. The amount of hatred and bullying that I have been subjected to on a near-daily basis has made me cling to any semblance to romance in my vicinity.
I crave it.
"Dump him. God, Rach, he doesn't deserve someone like you."
What is that supposed to mean?
"Why would I do that? He's the only one who loves me, the only one who-"
It's true. He's the only one who has ever appeared to care for me. He may not show it in public. He doesn't stand up for me when I am being hurt, but he will be there for me afterwards. He'll give me a box of chocolates- a nice gesture, although I can't eat them as he has never bought vegan friendly- and he'll wrap me up in his arms and tell me that he's sorry.
"Who loves you? He wouldn't do this to you if he loved you."
Maybe that's true too.
"He just-"
"If he loved you then he would do everything he could to protect you. He would stand up to the others for you. If he loved you, he wouldn't let you cry. He wouldn't kiss other people. He would buy you chocolates that vegans could eat, and he would take you on dates in public. If he loved you, he would want to be with you all the time, he wouldn't get annoyed at you when you ramble, and he wouldn't blow you off to spend time with his friends. You should be his number one priority. Why can't you see that you are worth so much more than he could ever give you. He's just using you."
I know that's true, and I suppose that's what finally broke me.
I should leave him, I understand that. I think I always did, but I've been too afraid to face them on my own. I stayed with him because he could be my buffer, I could hold on tight to him and pretend everything was alright, that I wasn't drowning. I realise now that I was a fool. The waters had risen above me as I hid in his bubble, but now it has burst and the water is seeping in, and I ask myself if this is all there was ever going to be for me. Was this how I was always going to end up?
Maybe it's stupid, but I've always held a candle to the idea that I could have a happy ending, that I would find my prince and he would shelter me from all that could harm me, and that I would finally be alright in his arms. I would be safe. Perhaps I should have been more focused on saving myself, not waiting for the right person to swoop in and save me.
And yet here I am in a bathroom, as teenagers party on obliviously outside the locked wooden door, desperately holding on to someone as they tell me that my boyfriend doesn't love me. Maybe he never did.
And now, I guess that's true too.
Saturday, the morning after the party
Soft.
Whatever I am lying on is incredibly soft. It envelops my small form, comforting me, gently nudging me into the land of consciousness.
It's very bright too.
My eyelids are heavy as I lift them, though immediately I realise that this action was a mistake. Sunlight burns my eyes through the miniscule opening, sending a stinging pain through me. My body reacts before my brain does- a good thing, as my head is pounding and I don't want to know how badly that has affected my thought processes- and clamps my eyes closed again. This doesn't prevent searing spots and streaks to appear before me.
It's pretty warm as well, in fact, the heat is almost stifling.
However, the warmth isn't a full one, as it's concentrated on various areas of my body. The furnace like heat is most readily present along my back. It spreads out along my spine and gently dips behind my legs. A branch is hooked around my midsection, holding me close to the source. Hot puffs of air hit the back of my neck at regular intervals, preventing my hair from settling.
Wait.
I attempt to open my eyes again. Nope. I almost gasp in real pain as the white hot light scalds my eyes. Definitely not doing that again.
Deciding I need a new approach I hesitantly flex the fingers on my hand. I slowly reposition my hand from beneath my head to in front of my eyes, providing me with some much needed shelter from the burning morning light.
Better.
Warily, I try for third time lucky. Success. With my hand shielding my eyes from the vicious morning light, I finally catch a glimpse of my surroundings.
I am in a bed. A large one, which accounts for the softness I had felt. The brightness is obviously because of the sun, which has risen high in the sky- based on what shadows I can see- meaning it is late morning, perhaps even early afternoon. If I wish to see what the warmth is, I find that I must turn myself around. Gingerly, I lift the arm around my waist, noting that it is most definitely female.
Turning myself around, I come face to face with a sleeping-
What?!
No.
No way.
This is a dream, it has to be, because there is no other way that it could be possible for me to be practically spooning with a sleeping Quinn Fabray.
Said girl grumbles in her sleep, her arm unconsciously tightening around my waist, pulling me in closer to her. My head collides with her protruding collarbone, which does nothing to help with my post-alcohol migraine.
I try to push myself away from the slumbering blonde, but Sue has worked her hard and she is much stronger than I am - even in her sleep - and I find that I am unable to get away from her.
"No." She murmurs, her nose nuzzling against my hair. "Stay. 'M comfy." I can't tell if she is awake or asleep as she hums these words above me. Around me. I hadn't realised how intertwined our bodies were.
I exhale softly.
The blonde is exuding warmth, which is a stark contrast to her usual cold persona, and this heat makes me feel calmer- safer- than I have ever felt in anyone else's arms. She must have been very drunk to go to bed with me, I think.
I don't want to stay around because I'm afraid that once she wakes up, she will realise the intimate position we are in, and freak out. Or get angry. Or threaten me.
Come to think of it, why am I not freaking out? Here I am, held captive in the arms of someone who has gone out of their way to torture and bully me, and I'm worried about her reaction.
God, this is probably all some plot to make me believe that they are actually being nicer to me. That I might actually be safe.
I can't believe I fell for it. I'm so stupid.
Decidedly, I unwrap the blonde's arms from around my waist and slide out of the bed. My bare feet collide with the cold, harsh floorboards, prompting a soft hiss to escape my lips.
Now, where are my shoes?
Upon my return home, I am met with questioning glances from my dad, who meets me in the hallway with his arms folded and his dark eyebrows bunched together over his round glasses.
"Where have you been?" The question is soft, which contrasts with his harsh posture.
"I stayed over at Kurt's house." He raises a heavy brow. "It was late and I didn't want to wake you."
He doesn't believe me. I know that. If I had been trying to convince daddy, then I would have had to have been more convincing, but for dad, it's enough. Sometimes I think he wants me to lie to him, so that I can be a normal teenager. He wants me to have more friends, to enjoy myself more, and I know that he will cover for me with daddy.
Silently, I pass him and head up for my room, intent on finishing the work I had been set to do over the weekend.
As I settle down on my bed, I carefully rethink the events that led up to my sharing a bed with the supposed ice queen, my own personal tormenter. I remember-
Oh.
Oh no.
I didn't-
I broke up with Finn, didn't I?
This is my first ever fanfic, and I'm not sure how I want to play it, so lets just sit back, strap in, and see where the ride takes us.
Feel free to leave me suggestions/prompts for new chapters or seperate oneshots you may want :3
Disclaimer: I don't own glee etc
Enjoy -S
