It was an abnormally chilly day for a September. Quinn tugged the sweatshirt she was wearing closer to her body, trying to envelope its warmth. Her fingers brushed over the fabric gently, the two toned sweater being one of the only things she had left of him. The fabric was worn and faded, stretched out far more than it should have been, but it was one of the only things Quinn had that she cared about anymore.
She wasn't the same girl she used to be. Too much had happened. Too much had been lost. She hugged the sweater tighter to her body, desperately wishing the person it used to belong to would take its place, his arms wrapping around her small body, his warmth transferring into her cold body. But her coldness ran deeper. It was a kind of coldness to the bone.
She wasn't quite sure how she'd wound up with his sweater. She had found it in her closet a week after he'd left; a week after the unshakable coldness had set in. She'd never clung to something so tightly before. The sweater had been there to catch her tears when she allowed them to fall down her cheeks in the privacy of her own room.
She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye. Not really.
He had been dating Mercedes, so she wouldn't have been able to say what she wanted to even if she had wanted to. I love you, Sam. I made a mistake. The unspoken words and her heart left with Sam that day.
Not that she wanted it back. She'd turned into the person she used to make fun of. She dyed her hair pink in a cry for attention that she didn't even want. She quit the glee club; she didn't have anything to sing for. Too many memories in that room, anyway. She hadn't quit right away. She'd stayed about a week after he left, trying to prove to herself that she could. That it could be done. But as she was sitting in the room that last day in glee club, she looked over at the empty chair beside her. She could so clearly picture his eyes, alight with some kind of nerdy joke that he'd just told and she only half understood. And his lips, pulled into a smirk, leaning in to press ever-so-gently against her temple or her ear to whisper words that made her giggle and blush. And his hands, so calloused from guitar playing but so gentle, their fingers intertwined.
And it just hurt too much.
She'd stormed out that day and hadn't looked back. And she had wandered aimlessly around then, much like she was now. She had a destination in mind this time, though. And when she saw the building come into view, her hand reached up to clutch at her chest where her heart was. It physically hurt to look at the building with so many memories.
She wanted to press her nose against the glass and look inside – she still remembered their table – but she just walked to the side of the building and pulled a notebook and pen out of her backpack. She had so much she wanted to say. As soon as the pen hit the paper, she let her heart do the talking.
Sam,
It's Quinn. I know I didn't really say goodbye and I don't know why I'm writing this now or what it's going to say when I'm done or if I'm even going to send it. But I need to write this all out anyway. I love you. I never stopped and I know I never will. I know it's unfair of me to spring this on you, especially since I saw that you could be happy with Mercedes and I should be glad that you can start over in another town and place because you deserve the best.
And I wasn't the best for you.
I was scared and insecure. And I guess some things really don't change because I'm those things now. I'm those things now even worse than I was before. You made me not feel them and I guess that's what scared me. It scared me because you knew how to make me feel good and the second you went away, I knew all of that would go away too.
But I guess my plan wasn't very thorough because here we are. And it does hurt. It hurts worse than I thought it might.
I'm sorry about this letter. It probably seems out of the blue. But you're the only person I feel like I can talk to and now you're gone. I'm not Quinn anymore. I don't even remember who she was.
All I do remember is that with you was the only time she was really happy.
Love,
Quinn
She wiped at her face, realizing it was damp and she looked around quickly, hoping no one had seen her. Vulnerability was the weakest of weaknesses and she only allowed herself to be weak alone. With one last look at the letter, she folded it up and stuck it in her pocket, still wondering if she should send it or not.
She ran her hands over her face one last time before she pushed herself away from the wall she'd been leaning against and looked up at the cloudy sky. She wished it was night. She wanted to look up at the stars and listen to Sam's words repeat in her mind. Something about all that space makes my problems seem kind of small, he'd told her.
Except space was her problem. And with every moment he was gone, she missed him more and more. More than she thought it was possible to miss someone she'd only known for a short period of time. There was a physical pain in her chest. A dull ache.
She walked the long way home, her fingers trailing across the chain links of a rusted fence, her eyes on the ground in front of her. She didn't even sense someone walking up behind her until she heard the familiar voice.
"We miss you in glee club."
Quinn shut her eyes for a moment while she stopped walking and brushed the rust from her hands onto her pants. She looked up at the body beside her, trying hard not to feel a slight pang of jealousy.
Mercedes was looking at her with a look of sympathy and sadness; a desire to help the girl she'd once called a friend. Quinn took a breath and shrugged. "Well, I don't miss glee club," she said in a monotone, turning her head to look down the sidewalk instead of at the girl. Truth was, Quinn did miss glee club. She just didn't want the memories.
Mercedes narrowed her eyes and took Quinn by the shoulders, forcing her to look at her. "I don't know what kind of funky stuff you got going on right now, but you need to pull yourself together. This is not Quinn Fabray and you know it, girl."
Of course she knew it. She was doing it on purpose. She didn't want to be Quinn Fabray anymore. She really wasn't even sure which parts of Quinn Fabray were because that was who she was or because that was who other people wanted her to be. So she did the exact opposite of Quinn Fabray. And now she had pink hair. But Quinn really wasn't in the mood for a fight or to argue or to even try and make the girl understand her.
All she wanted to do was go home and lay down in bed, looking up at the ceiling making pictures in the textures like they used to do.
"I know," she said quietly, letting her eyes slip back down to the ground. "But I have to go. I'll see you later." She didn't give Mercedes any chance to make her change her mind as she continued walking the way she'd been walking before she was stopped.
Her letter plagued her mind the whole walk back to her house and she knew the second she got home she was going to rip it into a million pieces. Or burn it. She couldn't send it. She was the same scared girl she always was and she still didn't want to share her vulnerability. She didn't want to share her feelings.
Especially if he didn't feel the same way. That would almost hurt her more than not having him there at all.
As her house came into view, she let out a small sigh, wanting nothing more than to curl up in her bed and close her eyes and possibly sleep. And when she finally got to her room, she was going to do just that. Right after she got rid of the letter.
She fished around in her pockets, but couldn't find it. Frustrated, she took her pants off completely, pulling out every pocket and dumping the contents of her purse on her bed. But the letter was gone.
Well that was just great.
She brought her hands up to squeeze her temples and she collapsed on her bed, mentally screaming at herself. Why would she even write the stupid letter to begin with? She knew she wasn't going to send it. She crushed a pillow over her head and made herself sleep. She really couldn't deal with it all today.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The week passed without Mercedes constantly hounding Quinn to come back to glee like she was assuming she'd be doing, and for that she was grateful. She gladly slipped under the radar, silently going through the motions of class changes and lunch time, happily returning to her bed when school was over only to have to wake up and do it all over again.
But today was different.
Today she found a note from her mother taped to the door with an envelope addressed to her with no name. That wasn't what made her blood run cold, however. She took in the loose scrawl, the slanted 'a's and her heart almost stopped beating. She knew that handwriting without even needing a name. She ran to her backpack and pulled out one of her old notebooks just to compare. The notebook he would often lean over and scribble little notes and pictures in her margins in glee club. She held the envelope next to the book and just looked between the two. There was no questioning who the handwriting belonged to.
Sam.
But why was he writing her? She bit her lip and slid her finger under the flap, tearing it away. More of the messy writing was on the page she pulled out and she realized she even missed his handwriting. She took a deep breath before letting her eyes fall over the letter.
Quinn,
I have to say, I never thought I'd hear from you again. Not that it's a bad thing – because it's not. But your letter… I don't know what to say, Q. I just wish you'd said those things to me while I was still there. While I was standing in front of you and could see your beautiful face. Why didn't you? Why didn't you tell me how you felt?
I'm hurting too, Quinn. You know, there's this girl at school. At my new school, I mean. She sits in front of me in chemistry class. She has blonde hair and she wears it in a ponytail like you used to. I don't even know what her name is, but she asked me to borrow a pen in class the other day and I think that because I looked at the back of her head for so long, I kinda just always pictured that the girl in front of me was you. And then I saw her face and I just felt… empty, you know? It was weird. It was the first time that I realized I lost you for good.
And then you had Mercedes send me this letter and when I read it, all I wanted to do was pull you into my arms and kiss your forehead and tell you that everything was going to be okay.
I love you too, Q. Oetse'a nga nìmun. That means I'll see you again in Na'vi. And I mean that. I'll find a way, Q. I can't let us end like that. I can't let that letter be the last thing I have from you.
Look up at the moon tonight. We can look at it together.
Sam
Quinn had to read the letter a few times through misty eyes to really begin to comprehend his letter. He… missed her? And loved her? And when did she ask Mercedes to send him a letter? And then it hit her. The letter that she'd lost. She must have lost it when she was talking to Mercedes and she must have found it. That was the oddest part of all. Sam was Mercedes boyfriend when he left, not Quinn's. But she passed on a note like that to him? One she wasn't even brave enough to send herself?
She found her room getting smaller and she needed to get out for air. When she was outside, she stopped on her porch and took a deep breath, taking a moment to fully breathe and enjoy the feel of the sun on her skin.
She knew where she needed to go and she headed in that direction, a million questions in her mind. The walk didn't seem to take long at all, and she found herself in front of the Jones' door, a hand slightly raised and ready to knock. She almost turned around, but she found her hand reaching out to tap against the door without remembering giving herself permission to do so.
Mercedes appeared at the door not a minute later and leaned against the doorway, a small – if not confused – smile on her face.
"Can we talk?" Quinn asked quietly, kicking at invisible dirt with her shoe.
Mercedes gave her a look and stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her. "Don't be silly, girl. Of course. What's going on?"
Quinn swallowed and slipped her fingers in her pocket to touch the letter, just making sure it was still there and it was real. "I got a letter from Sam today. It mentioned something about a letter of mine that you sent him?" She finally gained enough confidence to look up at the girl and she even raised a slight brow.
Mercedes smiled. "I found it on the ground after you left. I read it and I'm sorry. I wouldn't have but I didn't know what it was. What Sam and I had was nothing compared to that. If I had known you felt that way about him, I would have never even considered going out with him. You're my girl." She elbowed the once-blonde lightly and looked at her. "You mad?"
Quinn looked down and let the faintest of smiles creep across her lips. "No. I'm not mad. I couldn't possibly be mad." She looked out at the darkening sky and then back at Mercedes. "I really appreciate what you did for me. I didn't even have the courage to do it for myself. So thank you. But I have to go look at the moon, so I'll see you tomorrow," she said, already making her way down the Jones' front porch and looking up at the sky.
And for the first time in a while, she understood what he meant about space making her problems seem small. Especially knowing the moon she was looking at was the very same one shedding shadowed light on wherever he was and he was looking up at the very same one.
When Quinn got home that night, she wrote him an answering letter. She spent hours making sure it was just right, bent over her computer desk, her pen dancing across the page asking about his life, his friends, his new school, his family. His love life.
His next letter came three days later. His life was getting back on track; they were living in an apartment and getting ready to move into a house. His friends were cool, they didn't sing though. His new school was a good one that catered to his dyslexia and didn't give slushie facials. So that was always a plus. His family was great, they'd become much closer since the whole thing and they were happy. Perhaps the answer she'd been most anxious to find out was the one that pleased her the most.
His love life? Nonexistent.
No love life here. I'm not really looking, his letter had said. I don't really have a heart to give anyway. It's back in Lima.
A real smile, a big one, appeared on her face and it felt good. His heart was with her, and hers had always been with him. Maybe that was what was beating in her chest; keeping her alive; keeping her going. Maybe he'd really been there all along.
A few weeks passed with letters going out and coming in every few days. Her hair returned to blonde and she stopped wearing so much black. She kept wearing the sweater though. And she still wasn't ready for glee club yet. She wasn't sure she'd go back at all. They'd been there with her through a lot, but Sam's letters were making his absence hurt slightly less and being in that classroom would be a regress not progress.
Their closings had changed from love to I'll wait for you sometime between the second exchanging of letters. And she meant it with all her heart. She would wait for him. He was it for her. If they didn't work, then that was that. She'd had her chance at love. Great love. The best. But he was it.
Another letter came today.
She smiled and ran up to her room with it clutched firmly in her hand. When she finally opened it, she was disappointed at how small it was. Until she read it.
Quinn,
I bet you look beautiful today. You always look beautiful. I have to write this fast because I have to get back, but I have something I want to tell you. I got a job. It's nothing special, just delivering pizzas like I did in Lima. Every little bit helps my family.
But there's something else too. I give my family most of my paycheck, but I keep ten dollars every week and I put it in a jar so that I can save up enough for a bus ticket to come see you. Would that be okay? I just want to see you again, Q. I want to see your face and, god, I just want to kiss you so bad.
I also put something in the letter. You don't have to wear it, but I want you to have it. I love you, Q.
I'll wait for you,
Sam
Quinn had been so excited about the fact that she'd gotten a letter, that she hadn't felt the tiny protrusion at the bottom. When she looked inside, a tear slid down her cheek as she pulled out the promise ring he'd given her in her junior year. It seemed like such a long time ago.
She slid it onto her finger and held her hand out in front of her. And she smiled.
She and Sam were going to be okay. She just knew it.