Author's Note: This was written based off of a prompt on tumblr: "Rachel is with Finn but once she realizes that Quinn has a major thing for her, Rachel and Quinn have a friends with benefits routine going on. So Rachel is using her because she gets to one-up the head cheerleader, the queen of mckinley. Quinn realizes that no matter how many times she falls into Rachel's bed, Rachel will not love her. Set in season 2 or 3. Spin it however you want."
All of the italicized quotes come from "The Fault in Our Stars" by John Green.
I sat beside the pool as Santana floated around on a pink float, sunglasses on with the sun glistening on her water droplet covered skin. I had a book in my lap, opened to a page that I had obviously read before, covered in notes and highlighted sentences. "Fabray, you are such a nerd." Santana said as she climbed the ladder to get out of the pool, grabbing a towel and wrapping herself in it. She sat beside my chair on the pavement, "I hope you know we're only friends because you have a pool."
"I figured that out years ago." I put the book down and leaned back in the chair, "Can I ask you something?" I could tell she caught the hint of a serious tone under my words, her eyes softer when they found mine, I couldn't look at her. Not this time. "How did you know?"
"Know what?" Santana wasn't playing dumb. I should have been able to phrase my words more carefully, but I was nervous. I turned to her and gave her a look, praying that she would understand without me having to sit there and explain myself. She caught on, her perfectly arched eyebrow rising before she looked out at the pool and smiled. "I knew when I stopped asking questions and let myself be. I just lived, and I saw where that took me." It was then that I realized Santana Lopez was my best friend, and honestly, that was something that shocked me more than what I was feeling inside of myself.
"So, when are you going to tell me her name?" She asked me this the day before senior year was about to begin. I wanted to tell her, because if I could tell anyone, it would be Santana. But I really couldn't find the words to explain to her the discovery I had made in the past three months. If I had to, I would start at the beginning.
The true beginning was the second day of summer; she was riding her bike past my house, hair flowing behind her as she sang along with her iPod. I was on the porch, book in my lap. It was then when I saw her, that I began highlighting sentences. I would look back, and I would realize, and I would be disgusted with myself. Rachel Berry was making me relate to a story, it was like I was thirteen again singing along to songs that were what I thought life was about. But these were meaningful words, words about love and burning desire. I had thought of Rachel before anyone else. Silly, sweet, spirited Rachel. A girl I hated for so long, or did I? Had I hated myself all along and never her? Was I oblivious? Summer flew by and I saw her once or twice. But I always had the book. I read it nearly every night. It was possible I liked the girl I had made up in my head, the girl in this story, yet all the dreams I had about her featured the Rachel I had always known. I was only seeing her differently. I was seeing her for her.
"I don't think I can." I replied, finally, and Santana nodded.
"I get it." Part of me wished that I wanted to be with her. I couldn't believe myself for thinking that, but wouldn't have been easier? "You'll figure it out, Q. You're a nerd, remember? You're smart."
School started, my life felt like it was on pause, and the book found a permanent home in my backpack. Rachel was everywhere all the time, in my imagination and right there in front of me. She was happy with Finn, apparently. They embraced at every opportunity. I would roll my eyes, always, and she definitely began to catch it. I didn't know how to stop. You realize that trying to keep your distance from me will not lessen my affection for you. All efforts to save me from you will fail. I highlighted that one night, falling asleep with the book propped beside me. I wasn't sure of who I was becoming, but as always, I was curious. With every look in the mirror, I changed. I watched it before my eyes. My cheerleading uniform was put back on, eventually, the bitch glare slowly making its way back to my face. I took my place back on the social ladder of McKinley, and I sighed. I wasn't being myself. Nobody could see that. Not even Santana.
It was at a party where I kissed a girl for the first time. She was from another school, sitting alone in one of the bedrooms that I passed when I was heading to find some quiet. I never found out her name, but she was completely willing. It was an experiment, and the results were different than I anticipated. I was feeling more than I ever had from any kiss. There wasn't a romantic connection, but my body was perfectly in tune, wanting more. I didn't allow it, getting up and rushing to the bathroom. I also didn't expect the girl to have friends at McKinley. I didn't expect the rumors. But on Monday, I entered the hallway with people snickering around me. One of those people was Finn Hudson. When our eyes met, he averted his instantly. I held my glare the entire day until lunch hit, finding myself in the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall, no emotion hitting me like I expected it to. I just stood there with my eyes closed, hearing the door open but not moving.
"Q? You in here?" Santana tapped the stall door; I opened it, letting her in. She took a look at me and smiled unexpectedly. "You're holding up so well. Keep on doing it and this will let up. It always does."
"It's true." I whispered. She smiled again.
"I know," She gave me a hug. "I also know that you want to fuck the bobby socks off of Rachel Berry." There was a small squeak outside of the door, causing the two of us to freeze. Santana slowly slid down the side of the stall, carefully peering underneath it to see a pair of familiar heels and knee high socks. Her eyes widened as she looked back at me, "Rachel you better leave this fucking bathroom right now." She hollered, and not soon after that, the bathroom door slammed shut. Then, I finally allowed myself to cry.
I went a month not hearing anything from Rachel. She acted completely normal, not talking to me unless it was Glee related. Santana and I shared glances occasionally, but I distanced myself from all of them by doing what I'm best at: focusing on cheer. I considered throwing the book away multiple times, but I never went through with it. I worked on routines and spent my lunches with coach Sylvester, losing myself in the constant game of being on top. Just when I thought I was reached the point that Rachel was behind me, news broke all over the school. Santana found me first, mumbling about how Finn had stormed away from Rachel earlier after she had apparently broken up with him. I had brushed her off and laughed at it all, but I couldn't help thinking that this was an opportunity.
I guess she saw it as one, too.
"Hello, Mrs. Fabray, is Quinn home?" I had heard her from my desk in my bedroom; the window overlooking the porch was open. Her voice rang clear over the silence I surrounded myself with. I quickly got up and looked in the mirror. I was happy to be dressed more like I felt within myself, less constrained than I usually was in my cheerleading uniform. I heard her on the stairs and I tried to seem busy, the first thing I grabbed was the book, and I wanted to hit myself for that. "Oh, Hi. I hope I'm not interrupting you." Rachel smiled, walking over and taking in the sight of my room.
"No, no. I'm just reading." I put the book down and looked at her. "Any particular reason you came over?" I hoped I didn't sound too bitchy, but the situation was odd.
"I think we need to talk. Or, maybe, just-"She looked behind herself, checking to see that the door was closed, before charging towards me. I felt my back hit the bed, looking up to see her hair cascading around my face. She kissed me, with ferocity and clear intent, my body suddenly felt boneless. She crawled over me, kissing me over and over until finally slipping her tongue in between my lips. Our fearlessness shall be our secret weapon. I let her taste me, my mouth open as I panted, I was getting what I wanted. I was falling apart, and she loved it. "You're a really good kisser, Quinn." She said right over my ear, backing away until she was off of me, standing in the middle of my bedroom.
"Rachel," I began. She waved her hand for me to stop. She walked over to my mirror and looked at herself, smiling a little and tilting her head. I narrowed my eyes. I needed her. I needed to talk to her.
"You're something else. I hope you know that." She walked away, out of my bedroom and down the stairs. I sat there. I started to cry.
It became a cycle. Rachel would come over ever Tuesday and Thursday, we would talk about something for a few minutes and then she would be back on top of me. Once, we kissed for hours. I was so incredibly turned on when she left I couldn't find it within me to be upset at her. It was always the same, she found an excuse to leave, or left without a word. It was like I was a glass that she kept filling up, preparing to finally take a drink, but she would only sip it every so often, drawing it out, making it last. Until one day, she wouldn't want me anymore. That was a conclusion I came to terms with one Saturday night, when Santana had stood me up to spend time with Brittany. I was reading the book, I flipped to a page, and my eyes found a part that was un-highlighted. It spoke to me, it told me, and I instantly felt anger. But where I felt anger, I found relief. Maybe it would end. You're arguing that the fragile, rare thing is beautiful simply because it is fragile and rare. But that's a lie, and you know it.
It was a Thursday. I was waiting by the window when she appeared, hands wrapped around my middle. She laughed a little, playfully, but I turned around quickly to stand my ground. "You don't have the ability to do this anymore. I know this a game to you. It's not to me. I want you to stop."
"What are you talking about?" Rachel's arms looped around my neck, "You know I like you."
"You like fucking with my head. You like coming over here and kissing me until I'm practically begging you to do more." I removed her hands. "You are hurting me, Rachel." I watched her step back, analyzing my face. She shook her head, a tear rolling down her face. My lips parted to say something, but she ran out of the room. I tried to follow her, but I collapsed halfway, my own tears weighing me down.
It was a Friday evening, the day after the Thursday everything went wrong, when I stood on the Berry's doorstep. I knocked three times before one of her dads answered, letting me in. I went up the stairs and found Rachel's room with little difficulty. Before I went to knock, she opened the door, startled at my presence.
"I was about to go…Never mind." I walked into her room and avoided the bed, Rachel stared at me. "What are you doing here?" I could tell she was frustrated. I bit my lip.
"I couldn't stay away." I answered, annoyed with myself. Rachel got closer to me, putting her hands on my hips. I turned my head away from her, shutting my eyes and trying so hard to not let her get to me. She took the opportunity to kiss my neck, asking for attention. I couldn't take it much longer, and I found myself taking her face in my hands and kissing her with everything inside of me. All of the highlighted sentences were within me, begging to be said aloud. I gave them to her. I gave her so many things that she would never notice. Pain is like fabric: The stronger it is, the more it's worth. "Please, please Rachel." I said after the kiss, begging for things I wasn't sure of. She kissed me again, again, again. I lost feeling in my lips. "I'm numb." I said it without much of anything behind it, no meaning, no expression. But she looked up at me, giving me the most soul splitting glance I had ever received and said:
"Me too."