A/N: This oneshot is a sequel to The Roommate.
I highly encourage you to read (or at least be familiar with) The Roommate before reading this. Like The Roommate, this is a tale of Rachel and Quinn through a third party's eyes. Canon up to Season 3 applies.
I hope you enjoy!
The Confidant
He's running late.
It was hard to gather the motivation to leave the confines of his cozy studio apartment when he knows that she is going to be there. He could call. Or send a text even. Make the obligatory excuses about his upcoming finals at Columbia Business School. They would understand. But he owes it to them. To Rachel and Quinn.
It's not every day that someone's dreams come true. He said he'd be there to celebrate, and he'll stick to his word—even if the thought of seeing Sydney sends a flush of anger and regret and hurt through him.
He brushes by some other New Yorkers as he turns the corner on the block. His thoughts are on Sydney—her laughter, her eyes, her anger—no matter how much he tries not to dwell on her. He actually walks by the door to the night lounge that serves as his destination. He stops, rolls his eyes at himself, and turns back around, greeting the bouncer at the door.
"Private event tonight," the bouncer says gruffly.
"I'm on the list. Kenton Wells."
The bouncer makes a show of his annoyance at Kenton's presence as he flips through a couple of sheets of paper. After a moment, he grunts at Kenton, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to the door.
"Thanks," Kenton mutters. He already feels like an asshole for being here. It's nice of the bouncer to confirm his feelings.
But he spots Rachel and Quinn almost as soon as he walks in, and he knows he'd feel like an even bigger asshole if he didn't come. They're within touching distance of each other even as they entertain other individuals with conversation. He can't really help the fond smile that appears on his face. Despite everything with Sydney, despite his mother's affair, Rachel and Quinn will always make him believe in love.
Believe in love? He rolls his eyes at himself again. How cheesy can he be? But there's a certain element of truth to it. The fact that they choose that very moment to glance at each other, eyes warm and expressive kind of make him feel like the universe is telling him something too.
He strides up to them, and Quinn notices him first. As always, she looks stunning. He can't help but notice. He's a dude. He likes to think he's a nice dude. But he's still a dude. And the way her hair falls messily to her almost bare shoulders, and the dress hugs her hips is very…pleasing. So yeah, he's seen Quinn Fabray in all states, and she's his best friend, but that doesn't mean he forgets how pretty she is either. She gently cuts off the older man speaking to her. She's polite and diplomatic as always, touching his shoulder, and he turns away with a bit of a dazed grin playing across his aged features. Kenton has seen her leave a number of people with that dazed look.
"Hey you," Quinn says warmly. "I'm glad you made it."
He swoops her up in a hug. "Yeah, well, I wasn't going to miss it. It's not every day one of your closest friends gets nominated for a Tony."
"This party isn't just about me Kenton," comes Rachel's voice. "As you very well know, it's for all of our nominations! Everyone involved is here to celebrate, toasting to our success."
He lets go of Quinn and faces Rachel. She's wearing a dress that shows off her long legs, and makes a low "V" down her chest to her sternum. She's incredibly sexy; she always is, and it's only through years of knowing her that he manages to keep his eyes on her face. But there he's met with shining brown eyes and smiling full lips, and it's incredibly difficult to keep his poise. "Hi Rachel," he say evenly, "let me officially say congrats."
"Thank you," Rachel says politely. And then a big grin overtakes her.
Kenton exchanges an amused glance with Quinn.
"Stop it you two! Really!" Rachel says, the smile dropping back down a bit. "We have best musical, best original score, best choreography, best direction—"
"And you, Rachel," Quinn interrupts, "have been nominated for best performance by a leading actress in a musical."
"That's pretty cool," Kenton says, winking at Rachel.
He watches Rachel as she tries to hold back her smile again until she just can't. A small squeal of excitement escapes her lips and a huge grin stretches across her face. She throws herself into him.
"It is!" she exclaims in his arms. "I still can't believe it."
Kenton grins and gently extricates Rachel's arms from around his neck. He passes her over to Quinn, and she nestles into her girlfriend's embrace. Kenton looks away, granting them privacy, but that doesn't stop him from hearing Rachel's murmur. "And I have you to share it with."
And that's when he spots Sydney.
She's carrying two drinks, walking through the crowd with her usual nonchalance. She looks just slightly out of place, and for a moment he forgets everything that's happened between them because seeing her is like feeling a sunrise in his chest. But everything can't be forgotten forever, and her destination is obvious. The second drink is probably for Rachel, whose hands are otherwise empty.
"I'll be right back," he says. He's not even sure Rachel and Quinn hear him, all wrapped up in each other. He doesn't begrudge them of that at all. He takes a wide circumference toward the bar, leaning against it heavily once he arrives. He's fairly certain Sydney didn't see him, and this fills him with both relief and disappointment.
"What's your drink for the evening?" the bartender asks.
"Jack," he says, picking his head up.
"Rocks or neat?"
"Neat."
"Rocks," says Quinn. She squeezes in next to him.
"For you or him?" the bartender asks.
"For him."
Kenton scowls at her. "It's better neat."
"The way you're acting I think it should at least be watered down a bit," Quinn says.
The bartender hesitates, looking between them. "Fine. Rocks please," Kenton says.
The bartender nods her head sharply and turns away to prepare the drink. Kenton tenses, waiting for Quinn to ask. She doesn't. His drink gets slid in front of him, and yet, Quinn doesn't speak.
He takes a big swallow, and when Quinn still refrains from saying anything he jumps in with a safe topic.
"I'm really happy for you and Rachel, Quinn. Getting a Tony nomination at 23? The character arc she'll be filming for that HBO series in August? And now in talks to be in a Coen Brothers movie? She's going to be everywhere before you know it."
"You know I'm not over here to talk about Rachel," Quinn says. She's trying to be stern, but Kenton can see the softness in her eyes at Rachel's name.
"Yeah, I know. Go ahead and ask then," Kenton says lowly.
"You want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
"I don't know which of you is worst," Quinn says. "Sydney hasn't said a thing to Rachel about it either. She may act like nothing's wrong, but Rachel and I both know that's not true."
Quinn turns so that her back and elbows are leaning against the bar. Kenton wishes he could stop himself, yet he can't help but look over his shoulder to follow her gaze. Rachel and Sydney are huddled together with Rachel's douchebag of a costar.
Fine, the costar is not really a douchebag. But Kenton doesn't care at the moment. He tosses back his drink, looking away.
"Alright, take me out to tomorrow to get rid of the hangover I'm no doubt going to have and then we can do this chick-talk thing."
"Don't be an asshole," Quinn says.
"Sorry," he mutters. "Yeah it would be nice to talk I guess. If nothing else, you and Rachel seem to know how to make a relationship work."
Kenton wakes up to a pounding on his studio apartment door that matches the pounding in his head. He rubs his eyes, trying to focus. A half empty bottle of Stolichnaya sits in front of him. He shifts so that he's on his back, staring up at the ceiling and letting his brain kick in. He's on his couch, not his bed, but he at least managed to get down to his boxer briefs and t-shirt before passing out.
The knocking continues. He puts his feet on the floor and sits up. "Yeah!" he yells as best he can. That's about all his voice can manage. Shit—he would kill for a glass of water. He stumbles toward the door and doesn't bother checking through the peephole. There's only one real possibility as to who it is.
He's greeted with a coffee and Quinn's smirk.
"Good morning," Quinn says.
He takes the coffee gingerly. "Thanks. Let me shower and then we can go."
"Good, you smell. Like really bad."
"Man smell," he manages to joke after a sip of coffee.
"Like alcohol. And yeah…man." Quinn says, crinkling her nose. "Ugh."
They're out the door in ten minutes. He doesn't feel quite so bad after his shower and drinking half a cup of coffee. They settled down at the diner around the corner, and he ignores Quinn's look of disgust as he orders everything greasy and fried he lays his eyes on.
"Sure you don't want any?" Kenton says.
"Omelet with tomatoes, spinach, and green peppers please," Quinn says to the waitress while raising an eyebrow at him.
"She'll take a side of bacon too," Kenton adds.
"No thank you," Quinn says quickly, giving the waitress a polite smile.
"I'll take a side of bacon then," Kenton says. He smirks as Quinn narrows her eyes at him. "What?"
"You think you're so clever. I know your games Wells," Quinn says. "Now talk. I want to get back to Rachel before both of us have to get ready for work."
"Event tonight?"
"Just a small one. But I'll have to be there, looking my best as always."
"You know, when I first met you I'd never would have pegged you as one of those fundraiser types," Kenton says, "but now that you've actually been working this job for almost two years, I realize how well it fits you. A fundraiser for the Museum of Modern Art. You've always known the right things to do or say to get people to eat out of the palm of your hand."
"Not really," Quinn says rolling her eyes before growing serious. "It's a bit like acting in a role. It just so happens that my character is always very patient and very friendly. Though I do like most of the donors. They typically are more interested in the art than having their name embedded on the building somewhere. But you know I'm just a junior fundraiser—they don't let me work with the rich and famous quite yet."
"But you get to rub elbows with some, and I know you've met most of the trustees by now," Kenton says. "From lowly collegiate intern to an actual job at one of the most famous museums in the country. And you do know how to impress people Quinn. Plus, think of the galas!"
"The galas!" Quinn echoes back to match his playful enthusiasm. She smiles in a bit of self-depreciation. "You know I actually like those. And yes, you're right, my boss does like having me work these events."
"It's your charm. Or at least, that faux-charm you put on."
"Very funny," Quinn says dryly. "I do know what you're doing by the way—trying to distract me."
"Me? No, I would never," Kenton tries to say lightly.
He fails miserably, and Quinn arches an eyebrow at him.
"Fine, look," Kenton says, resigned. "It's the same thing that happened with our breakup junior year. The same sort of problems. I'm not trying to turn her into my charity case! I just think it doesn't make sense for her to pay for things when she already has all those loans, and my parents give me way too much money to begin with."
"Do you two even talk?"
"Of course we do," he says.
"How about this? Do you ever listen?" Quinn says.
The waitress reappears with their food at that moment. And it gives him a chance to think, to reflect. When she leaves, he meets Quinn's patient stare and answers. "I think our lifestyles are too different. Sometimes, when she looked at me toward the end, all I could see in her eyes was resentment. All I could see was that she thought I was a rich douchebag who has gotten by on his parents' money."
"Are you sure that's just not what you think?" Quinn says softly.
The food in front of him no longer looks appetizing. He slides the side plate of bacon toward her. "Just do me a favor and eat the bacon alright."
"Kenton—" Quinn begins.
"I know you've faced your shitload of problems," he interrupts. "I've faced mine too. Not all of us get our happy ending without a few more twists in the road. I think Sydney and I are done for good this time. And I'm done talking about it. Eat the damn bacon Quinn."
She purses her lips, looking decidedly unimpressed. "You can keep the attitude, but I will take the bacon." She picks up a piece, takes a bite, and swallows. "Anytime you want to talk…"
"Yeah, I know. Thanks Quinn," he says. Then he smiles, changing the subject. "So is Rachel still beyond excited about the Tony nomination?"
"What do you think?" Quinn says impassively.
"Something tells me you're getting laid like a dozen times a day."
The corner of Quinn's lips quirk upward though he can tell she's trying to suppress it.
Kenton takes his last exam on a Thursday afternoon a couple of weeks later, and he's fairly certain he walks straight out of the classroom and into a bar with some of his friends. He's pleasantly buzzed and is having a hard time keeping his eyes off the pretty brunette a few tables over (because, fuck, something about her reminds him of Sydney) when his phone vibrates. He fishes it out of his pocket to find that it's a text from Quinn.
"You still out?"
He responds quickly: "yep, now come and share in my frivolity."
His phone buzzes again almost immediately. "On my way."
Rachel would have a show tonight, and Quinn must not have any work events so he figures she's probably bored. That works just fine by him. He likes his business school friends, but Quinn has been his best friend for years by this point.
Quinn arrives about 15 minutes later, and he can tell something is off as soon as she walks through the door. He grabs his beer and excuses himself from his friends, though most of them are too drunk to notice his exit.
He meets Quinn next to the bar. "Let me get you a drink," he says by way of greeting.
"Sounds good," she says brightly. And he immediately knows that something is very, very wrong.
"And then we're going to do the chick-talk thing," he says.
She rolls her eyes. "Don't be an asshole. But, you can get me a drink and then we can rejoin your friends."
"No, I'm being serious," Kenton says. "Talk to me."
"It's your night to celebrate," Quinn says softly.
"Every night is a night to celebrate," he says. He cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. The bullshit of that line reeks enough for everyone in the bar to sense. "I'd rather you tell me what's going on."
Quinn sighs and then nods her head. "Okay."
"What do you want?" he says nodding his head toward the bar.
"I'll go with a mojito," she says as she takes a seat at the bar.
He orders and has the bartender add the drink to his tab. "So what's the deal? Too much sex?"
"Rachel and I," Quinn says after a sigh, "have decided that I will not be her date to the Tony's."
Kenton's not normally the type to be surprised by much, and he's very good at taking things in stride—it's one of the reasons he and Sydney worked so well when they did work. But this? This he definitely was not expecting. He takes a long sip of his beer to buy himself a moment to collect his thoughts. "I take it you both have your reasons."
"It's something we decided was for the best for her career after her agent suggested it."
"What?" Kenton says askance. "Not being by her side?"
"We're not hiding our relationship. We're just not going to be up front with it to the public at first. This next year is going to be huge for her. The HBO series, the movie… She's going to make it, and I want to put her in the best possible position to succeed. The plan is to allow her to get established in her career, while never really affirming or denying anything."
"That sounds a bit like hiding it to me Quinn," he says.
"It's…" Quinn says slowly, swallowing heavily. "It's for the best. That doesn't mean it doesn't make my stomach turn. But it's for the best."
The night of the Tony Awards, Kenton has Quinn over to watch the broadcast with Chinese takeout and a six-pack of light beer to accompany them.
Quinn is quiet, merely picking at her food as they watch the red carpet livestream on his laptop. And when Rachel appears on screen, Quinn watches, unblinking, as her girlfriend smiles and waves her way down the red carpet. Rachel is walking it alone, but Kenton thinks she commands attention. He thinks she belongs there.
The problem right now is that he thinks Quinn belongs next to her.
"She looked so beautiful today," Quinn says quietly. "She was so excited."
"I bet she was," he says.
He finishes off his food just before the broadcast starts. He closes the laptop, turns on the TV, and picks up his empty takeout container. Quinn's barely even touched hers.
"You finished?" He asks.
She nods. Kenton sighs, but takes the takeout box without question, closing the lid, and placing it in his fridge. If Quinn forgets it, he'll be happy to have it for whenever he wakes up for lunch tomorrow.
"Can you get me another beer?" Quinn asks while he's up. It's her third in half an hour, but he holds his tongue. Light beer isn't really his thing anyways.
He sits back down on the couch stretching his legs out on the coffee table. And is then promptly bored for what feels like forever. Quinn sits up a little every time Rachel appears on screen, and he thinks he would find it funny if she wasn't supposed to be there right now. As it is, he plays fetch for Quinn's fourth and then fifth beer and watches as her shoulders start to relax.
Then finally…
"And now the nominees for best performance by a leading actress in a musical," the presenter on TV announces with grandeur. Rachel's name comes first, and Quinn's hand latches onto his knee. So much for being relaxed.
It seems to take forever for the presenter to actually read the piece of paper in front of him. Kenton nearly rolls his eyes, and Quinn's grip grows painful. He turns to look at her, and he's pretty sure she's not breathing.
Then he hears "Rachel Berry," and the most beautiful smile appears on Quinn's face.
Kenton attends Rachel's last show on Broadway. Sydney is there as well. They share one of the box seats with Quinn and Rachel's fathers, staying as far away from each other as possible.
He tries to enjoy, but it's hard with her there. She's an itch on his skin. A buzz in his head. An ache in his chest. At intermission, he almost says something to her—nothing fancy, just a "hi" or "hello"—but he swallows down his words half a dozen times. Sydney seems utterly engrossed talking with Rachel's fathers anyway.
He turns his attention to Quinn. She leans against the railing, staring at the stage dreamily.
"Enjoying yourself?" He prompts, nudging her shoulder.
She smiles softly. "Taking it all in for one last time."
"One and done huh? You don't think Rachel is going to find her way back to Broadway again?" he says slightly confused.
"All I know," Quinn says evenly, "is that I think everything is about to change."
There's a certain kind of melancholy in her voice, and Kenton's drained hearing it. He sits down heavily in his seat, feeling numb.
But later, after the final applause dies, when Quinn sweeps Rachel into her arms behind the curtain, and they share a kiss so practiced and natural and intimate, he wonders if he imagined it. He looks away as the kiss grows a little too intimate, and his eyes inexplicably meet Sydney's. But when he tears his gaze away from hers, he knows he didn't.
The summer stretches on with hot asphalt and gleaming skyscrapers, and, for a couple of weeks, nothing seems to change.
Kenton dutifully does his work at his internship. He talks to Quinn. He talks to Rachel. He drinks. He goes to the gym. He lives. And he thinks about Sydney and wonders if he had done anything different, if he had broken the mold—like she seems to do with every breath—if they maybe would still be together. He thinks about the job waiting for him after he graduates next year—a managing position at his father's New England-based construction business. And he thinks about what-ifs until his head spins. And nothing changes.
Until it does.
"It feels so empty," Quinn says in the middle of her apartment. Her and Rachel's apartment.
"Nah, all your usual junk is still here," Kenton says lightly from the couch. She gives him the legendary Fabray glare—at least that's what he likes to call it—but her eyes are bright green and glistening so he quickly backtracks. "It's only going to be for a month and a half, and then she'll be done filming."
"I'm being stupid," Quinn says. Her back straightens and her jaw tightens. "It's not like I'm not going to fly out to Detroit to visit."
"Exactly. Plus, when you're not there, you get to keep me company!" he says with as much over-enthusiasm as he can manage.
She's trying to hold back a smile now, which is a much better outcome than the teary eyes from before. She takes a seat next to him on the couch. "Sorry for being so weird about it. I know I'm supposed to be excited, and I am. But it was so hard watching her disappear through airport security today and not being beside her."
"I don't think you're being weird at all," Kenton says with a bit of a shrug. Rachel's going to be gone for a while; it's perfectly fine for Quinn to be sad about it. It's a stupid generalization he knows, but damn it if he can't help thinking that women do like to overcomplicate everything.
"I have a life here. I have an amazing job, fantastic friends, and now an apartment all to myself. And I suppose you're here too, I guess," Quinn says with a bit of levity.
"Thanks," he says dryly. He then shrugs. "And hey, a month and a half is nothing. Rachel will be home before you know it."
She hesitates, gaze unfocused. Then her eyes flicker to him, and she says, "Rachel's agent finalized an agreement for the Coen Brothers' movie last night. They start filming in mid-October."
"So it's official? Movie star Rachel, here we come," Kenton chuckles. "She's going to be impossible."
"She is," Quinn laughs, but her expression quickly grows sober. "Her agent was also very quick to remind us both that Rachel and I will be keeping our relationship in the dark for now. He wants Rachel to hire a publicist to help keep it that way too."
"You're not okay with this," he says. It's not a question at this point.
"I will be. It's for her. It's for me too. I'm not ready for that kind of scrutiny."
Even if that is true, Kenton can't help but think this isn't going to end well.
Rachel finishes filming the HBO series toward the end of September, and Kenton takes her and Quinn out to drinks to celebrate. Rachel regales him with tale after tale of her experience on set. She practically glows with excitement.
When she excuses herself to go to the ladies' room, Quinn turns to him, eyebrow arched. "She's meant for this."
He laughs. "She really is."
He's preparing a mid-term presentation for one of his classes when his phone buzzes with a call. It's Quinn.
"Hello," he says cheerily.
"Hey," Quinn says. She sniffs, and that immediately catches his attention.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah…no. I don't know," Quinn says.
He frowns. "…Do…Do you want to talk about it?"
"Can you just tell me I'm not a bitch?"
"You, Quinn Fabray, are certainly not a bitch," he says as charmingly as he can. His mind races though, and he can't but ask, "Is it Rachel?"
"It's her stupid new publicist. God, I hate her. But I'm trying to keep it together because I'm going to this big work dinner right now, and I'm certain I already look like a complete mess."
"I'm sure you look beautiful," he says. "And look, if there is one other thing I'm sure of, it's that Rachel loves you."
"Thanks Kenton," she says softly.
"And that you have a lot of hot lesbian sex together," he can't help but add.
He can practically hear Quinn's eye roll through the receiver.
Kenton spends the weeks leading up to Christmas studying and listening to Quinn call Rachel's publicist a bitch. But he knows that the only reason that seems to be her favorite topic is because she doesn't like talking about how much she misses Rachel. Filming for the movie has kept them apart even more the HBO series did with Rachel seemingly shooting at a different location every other week.
Even with him, Quinn has a hard time being open. It's only with Rachel that Kenton's ever seen her be completely free.
On New Year's Eve, Kenton heads over to Quinn and Rachel's apartment for their party. Rachel has to leave for her final couple of weeks of filming the following day, but she's a sucker for holiday parties and Quinn can't say no.
He arrives early. He didn't have anything better to do so he figures there's no harm in bothering them for an hour till the rest of the guests arrive. He didn't exactly think that Sydney would have the same idea. And he didn't exactly think that Sydney would bring a date. He's an artsy type. Someone who he figured Sydney would have always ended up with.
They end up all making awkward small talk as they help Rachel and Quinn finish preparations for the party. He tries not to look at Sydney.
"So I saw that you, Rachel, made your first appearance in a gossip rag yesterday," Sydney says conversationally as she organizes some crackers and hummus on a platter.
Rachel giggles, but Kenton sees her eyes cut nervously over to Quinn. "Yes, I did. My publicist sent me an email with it."
Quinn grows still, her features suddenly drawn. He realizes that was definitely the first Quinn has heard of that information.
"Oh what was it about?" Sydney's date—Heath or something—says into the awkward silence.
Kenton guesses the question was meant to be polite inquiry, but he cringes at its delivery into the sudden tension. When he catches Sydney doing the same thing, scowling at her date even, Kenton bites back a smile.
"It was a photograph of me departing from the MoMA after I dropped off a late lunch for Quinn the other day. It then proceeded into some discussion about my clothes and that readers will find me on the little and big screens this year," Rachel says quickly. Then she takes a breath. "Quinn, would you help me with something?"
Quinn nods her head once before marching from the kitchen toward the bedroom. Rachel follows her with a quick "excuse us," and then Kenton is left in the room with Sydney and Heath—or whatever his name is.
"So Kenton," Sydney says, and his heart races at hearing his name from her lips again, "how'd your last semester go?"
She's smiling at him. It's that lopsided smile. The one that she gave him whenever he greeted her with a kiss. The one that she gave him whenever he made her laugh. The one that she gave him after they made love.
"It was fine," he says. And then because he's weak, because he's a coward—"I need to use the restroom."
He's certain he managed to keep his escape at a walk, but by the time he closes the bathroom door he feels like he ran a marathon. He braces his hands on the counter, and he realizes just how much he wants to punch something. Like artsy (douchebag) Heath's face.
Grow the fuck up Kenton, he thinks. The mantra sounds even better when whispered under his breath. He sighs and rolls his shoulders back. He leaves the bathroom with his head held a little higher than when he entered it.
"Do you think I'm letting her control me too much?"
It's Rachel's voice, wafting out of the bedroom, and Kenton can't help it. He pauses just beyond the door, lingering to hear Quinn's answer.
"She knows what she's doing," Quinn says, sounding defeated. "Her name is circulated around as a good publicist to have on your side, and I want you to have the career you always dreamed of Rach. If she thinks keeping me in the dark is for the best…"
"Please don't ever forget that I love you Quinn," Rachel says in a vehement whisper.
There's a shaky intake of breath and a quiet rustle. Kenton backs away, returning their stolen privacy.
When Rachel finishes filming the movie in the middle of January, and Kenton takes her and Quinn out just like he did with the HBO series. He thinks the night will be familiar to that last experience. That Rachel will be breathless with excitement from her experience as Quinn looks on fondly and he can't help but be impressed.
And then he realizes that Rachel and Quinn aren't holding hands as they stroll down the street. That they barely touch each other while at the bar. That, at best, they're practically at arm's length from each other the whole night.
Rachel and Quinn host a viewing party for the season premier of Rachel's HBO series in the middle of February. This time, he does not make the mistake of showing up early. It's a good thing too because fucking Heath is once again accompanying Sydney.
He's able to make it through the hour-long showing without difficulty. But afterwards, when everyone is mingling together, he sees Heath's hand on the small of Sydney's back. Just like that, the room grows hot, crowded, and miserable. He doesn't flee the party entirely, but he steps out onto Rachel and Quinn's balcony. The cold February air hits him hard in the lungs, and it's wonderfully numbing as it slips through his jacket, brushing against his skin. The balcony is one of the best features of the apartment, stretching from the bedroom to the living room. He cuts closer to bedroom so that no one in the living area sees him and thinks about joining him outside. He leans against the railing, beer bottle in hand, and enjoys the busy city spread before him.
He has his solitude until he sees the light flicker on in Rachel and Quinn's bedroom and hears the door getting slammed shut.
"Quinn, that's uncalled for!" comes Rachel's voice. Kenton winces, and checks over his shoulder. The blinds are drawn across the window and door so they can't see him. He thinks he should leave, but part of him can't help but want to know what's coming between them. And he still dreads going back inside to the party. So he lingers with Rachel and Quinn's hurt and anger for company.
"Oh come on, Rachel," Quinn says venomously. "You're pretty much letting her tell you what to wear and eat every day! And that doesn't even get into the fact that you are just letting her erase me!"
Kenton knows inherently that her refers to Rachel's publicist.
"Do you think it's easy? Do you think I don't want you there with me every step of the way? Do you think I actually want to listen to her? What do you want me to do Quinn? What do you want!?" Rachel shouts. Her wavering voice gives away her tears.
"I don't know!" Quinn yells back, voice-cracking.
There's silence, and Kenton pictures them standing there, staring helplessly at each other. He runs his free hand over his face. It hurts to hear them.
"I love you, Quinn," Rachel says, her voice breaking through the silence. "I love you so much, but I can't be in a relationship where you don't allow me to be me. And don't you dare think I won't work for us because I am!" And then her tone subsides into a soft, sincere confession. "I work for us with every single breath I take."
"I'm sorry…" Quinn says thickly, her voice is just barely audible. "You're right. You're right. We agreed to hide our relationship for now, and I… I'm not ready for the world to know who I am. I'm being selfish."
"No you aren't," Rachel says fervently. "I promise. We just have to keep working hard for us together."
Rachel is cast in another movie with another famous director and another amazing supporting cast. And then, just like that, she's everywhere.
He's half-asleep on his couch with the TV flickering late-night infomercials toward the end of February when there's an angry knocking on his door. He jolts into full awareness and climbs to his feet, taking the few steps over to the door. He does actually take a glance through the peephole because it's late, but it's only Quinn on the other side.
He opens the door for her and she brushes past him into his apartment. She takes off her long peacoat, revealing only a Yale T-shirt and sweats. He can't help but conclude that she got dressed in a hurry.
"Can I stay here tonight?" Quinn asks impassively, turning toward him.
"Yeah of course," he says as he closes and locks the door. "Though you better be glad that I fought off all the girls coming after me tonight otherwise I would have had to say no."
She purses her lips. "You've only had a couple of drunken one-night stands since Sydney."
"Maybe I just haven't told you about all my conquests. Ever think about that?" Kenton says. She's unfortunately very right.
And both times, he couldn't stop picturing Sydney.
"Kenton, perhaps it's time you've started dating again?" Quinn says. She doesn't say it, but he can hear the "Sydney's moved on" in her voice.
"I just haven't found anyone I'm interested in," he says firmly. And then, because Sydney is the last thing he wants to talk about, "Why are you here Quinn?"
She looks away from him. "Why do you think?" she mutters.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Kenton says worriedly.
Quinn sits down on his couch, and buries her face into her hands. "Rachel and I weren't exactly careful during her time on Broadway or NYADA. There are random people who know things, and now that Rachel is famous, there's stuff about us floating around out there on the Internet. It's causing some stress between Rachel and her publicist, and that stress has been pushed onto our relationship."
Kenton stares at her, his mind flashing back to the argument he overheard on the balcony. Rachel and Quinn have been a constant since his freshman year. For them to fall apart…
He doesn't want to think about it.
He takes a deep breath. "You want a drink?"
"That sounds good."
Quinn goes back to her and Rachel's apartment the next day. He doesn't hear from her for another two weeks.
And then he gets a call the week after his spring break.
"Kenton," Quinn says through tears. "Do you mind if I stay with you for a little while?"
The first few days are strange. Quinn refuses to take or share his bed so she sleeps on the couch. He doesn't see her till she comes in late at night, and she's usually gone before he wakes up. He has no idea where she goes all day. He doesn't ask. They barely even talk. The only thing that indicates that anything is different is two of Quinn's suitcases pushed into one corner of his apartment.
It's all so fucked up.
He goes out to the bar around the corner one night after class. He wants to stay out of his apartment. When he's there, all he can think about is Sydney and Rachel and Quinn. He wonders when he let these three women become the most important people in his life. He wonders why he let that happen when it's all falling apart.
He drinks cheap vodka and turns off his brain for a while. His eyes catch on a young woman ordering drinks a few bar stools down from him. She licks her lips, heavy-lidded eyes on him. He sends her a smirk and gives her an obvious once over that makes him feel like a douchebag. But when she comes back to him with a flirty smile after taking the drinks over to her friends, he can't help but think it was worth it. It's nice to feel wanted and be given some attention. It's only when she presses herself into him and makes a very obvious overture about what she would like out of the evening that Sydney floats into his mind. And he remembers Quinn.
The alcohol in his mouth turns to ash. His skin burns under his clothes where she touches him.
"I have to go," he says, pulling away from her without further explanation.
He dials Quinn's number on his phone as he walks out. "Are you back at my place yet?" he asks as soon as she picks up.
"Just got in," Quinn says quietly. Everything about her has been quiet since she moved in.
"I'll be right up," he says.
His mind races with everything he wants to talk about, and he's home in a blink of an eye. He opens his door to find Quinn pensively staring out the window. She turns around as he strolls quickly to her. "Everything okay?" she asks as he approaches. "Kenton?"
Kenton wraps her into a hug as an answer. Quinn stiffens in his arms at first, everything about her tense and strained.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry."
And slowly, she relaxes, returning the hug. He feels her hands clench his jacket, pulling the material tight. She trembles and gasps in a breath against his shoulder. He holds steady, and let's her cry.
Eventually, she pulls back, wiping her eyes. "You're an asshole—making me cry."
"Yeah, well, I'm the asshole that's going to make you do that stupid chick-talk thing," Kenton says.
"As long as you know you're an asshole," Quinn says.
"So is this for real Quinn? Have you broken up?" Kenton says softly.
"I…I think so," Quinn says, her voice breaking again.
And then he learns about the insecurity and doubt that plagued Quinn, that drove a wedge into her relationship with Rachel that just kept on widening. And how she felt increasingly meaningless with every effort Rachel took to erase her from her life for the public. And how she felt guilty because she said it would all be okay—that Rachel should do what she needed for her career—and then it was anything but.
"It was too much," she says in conclusion, eyes filled with tears. "We were both hurting. And it was my fault."
"This isn't… The situation isn't ideal, but if I don't go, it'll cause a number of problems," Rachel says over the phone.
"It's a huge benefit at least," Kenton says. "It's unlikely that you'll be forced to interact with her if you're actively trying to avoid her. Plus, she'll be working."
"I know. Can you just warn her please?" Rachel asks.
"She's staying with Sydney this week in order to 'give me some space,'" he says, trying not to let his voice break over Sydney's name. "Why don't you just have Sydney tell her?"
"I am aware of Quinn's location," Rachel says. "But the reason I'm asking you is because I actually have another favor."
"I don't think I like the sound of this."
"My publicist insists that I bring a date—a male date—with me to the MoMA in order to battle some of the rumors about… well, about Quinn."
"And how does that involve me?" Kenton says.
"I would prefer to bring somebody whose company I would actually enjoy over the course of the evening. I was hoping you would be willing to fulfill that role…" Rachel says hopefully.
Her tone immediately invokes a picture her big, brown eyes looking up at him in his head. And all he can do is agree.
Before he hangs up, Rachel cuts in with another question.
"Wait, Kenton… how is she?"
"Jesus Rachel," he says, "what do you think?"
"I…yes. Okay," Rachel says softly.
Kenton sighs. "Sorry."
"No, no—it's okay."
"Rachel?"
"Yes."
"How are you doing?"
He waits for an answer. It never comes.
Rachel picks him up for the benefit the first weekend in April. She looks gorgeous, clad in a deep blue gown that practically makes her glow. It's the first time he's seen her since Quinn moved out, and, at first glance, she seems fine. But as he looks at her longer, the façade unravels. Underneath the carefully applied makeup, there are bags under her eyes and a certain wanness to her skin. She looks exhausted.
It's a reminder that nothing is remotely okay right now.
Her publicist is in the limo with them too. She spends the whole ride over to the MoMA "instructing" Rachel on what she should do and giving him very strict orders about his behavior.
Quinn was right. She's a complete bitch.
There's a small red carpet leading into the MoMA. Kenton skirts around it and meets Rachel at the end for one calculated photograph of them together. Then they're inside, and it's impressive. He's no stranger to fancy parties, but this is a whole new level. He adjusts his tux self-consciously as Rachel is greeted personally by a MoMA employee that is, for better or worse, not Quinn.
"So what are we supposed to do? Just eat, drink, and stare at art?" he says after they walk away.
"Pretty much. There will be other celebrities and industry people here too. My agent will be arriving in a bit, and we'll be networking. You don't have to stick by my side the whole night. Promise," Rachel says.
"Ah, but what kind of date would I be if I abandoned you to the wolves."
"There aren't any wolves here that I can't handle," Rachel says with a smile. And for a moment, as he smiles back, everything seems normal. Then Rachel asks quietly, "Did Quinn say anything today?"
"No," he says. "She didn't."
"Oh."
That seems to be the end of the conversation until he sees Quinn slide out of a door marked "Employees Only." Rachel's breath catches beside of him, and the hand she has on his arm tightens to the point that it grows mildly uncomfortable.
Quinn's in a black dress. It's one he's seen before, and he knows she pulls it out whenever there is a potential donor with a lot of money on table. The fact that he's seen it before doesn't diminish how flattering it is. She turns the opposite direction—almost as if she knew exactly where they were—and disappears into the crowd.
"Everything is coming together. So why does it feel like my life is falling apart?" Rachel says distantly, eyes on the spot where Quinn vanished.
"She blames herself you know," he says.
"She shouldn't. It's my fault. I should have been better. I should have been stronger," she sniffs.
"Nothing about this is easy. For whatever my opinion counts, neither you nor Quinn should be blaming yourselves. It's life," he says seriously. He then cuts a smile to her. "But for what it's worth, I think you should blame your publicist. She's a bitch."
Rachel chokes out something that's a mix between a sob and a laugh. "Yeah, she is."
Kenton gives her a minute to collect herself. After she dabs gently at her eyes and takes a deep breath, he gently grabs her shoulders. "Rachel, do you honestly have to listen to her? It can't be too late to fix this. It'll be tough, but fuck those homophobic assholes. You and Quinn are so right together. And you're too talented to be denied. I…I know things change, but do you and Quinn honestly have to? Do Syd—"
He catches himself, shutting his mouth with a snap. And then it's Rachel staring at him with sympathetic eyes. He looks away.
"She broke it off with Heath you know," Rachel says gently. "It's not too late."
"It's been months," he says.
"She doesn't say it, but I can tell… She misses you Kenton."
He runs a hand over his eyes. "Fuck, I need a drink."
When he opens his eyes, Rachel's attention has left him. He follows her line of sight and is unsurprised when it leads him to Quinn.
Quinn is working, easy charm turned up to its full force as she smiles and laughs with a middle-aged couple. He blinks in surprise when it abruptly gets turned off, her smile disappearing. Quinn looks around the room, and then her gaze, completely devoid of any life or emotion, lands on him.
On Rachel.
Quinn says something to the couple, and then they're cutting through the crowd and walking straight towards them.
"Kenton, I—"
"Just smile," he says quickly. "Smile, and be friendly. Quinn is just doing her job."
As Quinn gets closer, the couple in tow, Rachel lets out a shaky breath and straightens.
"Miss Berry," Quinn says impassively. Robotically. "It's so great to have you with us tonight. Can I introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Fuller?"
Rachel's eyes are on wholly on Quinn. Kenton nudges her gently.
"Of-Of course! Hi," Rachel says with a forced smile, offering her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Mrs. Fuller takes her hand, pumping it vigorously. "Oh dear, it's wonderful to meet you. I saw you were on the list of attendees, and I said to Howard, 'if there is one person I want to meet tonight, it's Rachel Berry.'"
"We saw you on Broadway I think about a dozen times, and now that you're in film and TV…we'll be keeping track of where you go," Mr. Fuller says.
"Thank you so much," Rachel says.
"Would you mind taking a picture with me?" Mrs. Fuller asks.
"I'd be happy to."
"Thank you! Howard, camera please."
"I got it, I got it."
Rachel lines up with Mrs. Fuller, her smile in place, as Mr. Fuller pulls up the camera on his phone. Kenton can only watch helplessly as Rachel's eyes keep darting to Quinn.
"On three," Mr. Fuller says. "One…two…three!"
Rachel's eyes fly to the camera lens just as the flash goes off.
"Thank you so much Miss Berry," Mrs. Fuller says, and Kenton tries not to react when her gaze lands on him. "Now is this young man your boyfriend? I say you do have good taste."
Kenton freezes, not sure exactly what he's supposed to say. Rachel takes over, laughing lightly. "I'm afraid not. This is Kenton Wells. He's a good friend of mine."
"Mr. Wells is a Yale alumnus as well, Mr. Fuller," Quinn says quietly.
"Are you now?" Mr. Fuller says, holding out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you son."
Mr. Fuller starts talking about Yale, and Kenton nods along. Most of his attention, however, falls on the conversation happening just next to him.
"So you don't have a man in your life Miss Berry?" Mrs. Fuller says
"I do not," Rachel says politely. "My career has been keeping me busy."
"You'll have to forgive me," Mrs. Fuller says, "Howard always tells me I'm a terrible gossip. But yes, I did see that you will be filming another movie soon. I'm already awfully excited about the one coming out this year."
"We start filming next week actually," Rachel says.
"That's wonderful!" Mrs. Fuller exclaims. "Now, you'll have to excuse me. Quinn, dear, can you point me in the direction of the ladies' room? Too much champagne you know."
"Of course Mrs. Fuller," Quinn says. "Head past the catering tables and take a left."
"Howard, I'm going to the restroom. Stop bothering the poor boy, and let Miss. Berry and Mr. Wells get along with their evening."
"One minute longer Mary Ann," Mr. Fuller says before launching into a diatribe on Harvard.
"Boys," Mrs. Fuller says as she leaves, shaking her head fondly.
Mr. Fuller's voice becomes white noise to Rachel and Quinn. The whole, cavernous room seems to still as Kenton listens in.
"I miss you," Rachel says.
"I miss you too," Quinn echoes.
Yet everything stays in limbo over the next week. Quinn continues living between his place, Sydney's, and work. Rachel starts filming her next movie, which is mostly set in New York. She shuffles between the studio in New Jersey and sets on the streets of the city.
Kenton is studying when he gets the call. He looks at his phone absentmindedly, only for everything to come into sharp focus when he sees the name on the screen. His heart hammers violently, and he takes a deep breath before answering. "Hello?"
"Kenton, I'm so sorry for calling, but I need some help," Sydney says quickly.
"Yeah, of course! What is it?" He says, already on his feet and slipping on a jacket.
"It's Quinn. She's… I need help getting her home."
"Where are you?" Kenton says.
"Crowley's. It's on—"
"Amsterdam Avenue. I know the place. I'll be right there."
It feels like it takes him forever to get there, but eventually Crowley's Gastropub comes into sight. He strides inside, scanning the premises for Sydney and Quinn.
"Right here Kenton," comes Sydney's voice.
And there she is, beautiful in her worn jacket and messy hair. It hurts seeing her. It hurts feeling her eyes on him. It hurts seeing the relief cross her face at the sight of him. But he ignores the ache in his chest because Quinn is slumped over on the table.
"What happened?" he asks. Quinn has never been one to binge drink. To see her passed out in public in the middle of the night goes against all of her normal reservations and everything he expects from her.
"We started talking about Rachel," Sydney says by way of explanation, getting to her feet and collecting Quinn's purse.
Kenton sighs and nods because it's more than adequate of an answer. He bends over and carefully guides Quinn to her feet. "Come on Fabray," he says gently as a moan escapes her mouth and she leans heavily against him.
He half-carries, half-supports Quinn to the door and waits as Sydney flags down a taxi. The ride to her apartment is quiet. He pays the driver once they pull to a stop, and Sydney helps him get Quinn out of the car. He picks up Quinn, and, even though she's light, the building lacks an elevator and he's grateful that Sydney's apartment is only on the third floor.
Sydney opens the door and ushers him inside. He gently deposits Quinn on the couch, and pulls back, standing awkwardly as Sydney swoops in. She takes off Quinn's shoes, placing them on the ground beside her, and then drapes a blanket over her still form before straightening up and turning her attention to him.
"I…um…I guess I'll be going," he says and starts toward the door.
"Thanks," Sydney says quickly. He stops in his tracks, looking back at her. "Thank you for coming. I would have called one of my roommates, but as you can see, nobody is home."
"Anytime…" he says. "You can call me anytime."
An awkward silence stands between them. Kenton can't quiet meet her eyes, but he can't quite bring himself to leave either.
"…Rachel," Quinn murmurs.
Sydney shakes her head sadly. "Can you believe them?"
"Can you believe us?" he counters without thought.
"I'm sorry," Sydney says. "I…"
"It's been almost a year. And I still think about you every day," Kenton says. He rubs a hand nervously through his hair. "Sydney, can…can I take you out for coffee or something? Anything?"
"It's not too late for us, right? I…I think about you too," Sydney says, meeting his eyes. "Kenton... I'll be better."
He lets out a breath and releases a small smile of disbelief. His heart hammers in his chest as he steps closer to her. "We'll both be better."
"Then I think coffee sounds good," Sydney says with her lopsided smile.
Rachel takes him out to lunch when she has a couple of days off from filming right before his finals start. It's meant as a thank you for attending the MoMA benefit with her.
"You really don't have to thank me for going with you," Kenton says after they order. "We all have to call in favors every once and awhile. That's what friends are for. Besides, it's nice to sit out in the sunshine for a bit instead of the library."
"I insist. It was a terribly long evening, and plus you had to deal with my publicist," Rachel says lightly. Her phone chooses to ring at that moment, and she apologizes as she digs it out of her purse. She frowns as she stares at the screen. "Speak of the devil. I'm sorry Kenton, I need to take this."
"Go right ahead," he says.
Rachel shoots him a quick smile and then answers. "Hello."
He waits, vaguely hearing the voice through the receiver spill out a litany of words that never seem to end. He watches Rachel's face grow from slightly annoyed to extremely cross.
"It's just a picture from a college party!" Rachel exclaims. "Quinn and I are kissing in it? There are probably hundreds of more damning pictures of us out there. So what if one of my NYADA peers posted it on the Internet?"
A few moments pass, and Rachel's scowl deepens.
"No. You listen," Rachel snarls. "I am tired of this. I am tired of hiding. I've already lost her. I won't cheapen what I shared with Quinn to a stupid college dare, and I especially won't let you purposefully leak any information about our experiences in high school. There won't be any more staged pictures! There won't be any more carefully worded statements! And there won't be any more of your advice!"
There's a moment's pause from Rachel as the voice on the other end increases pitch. Kenton watches, completely stunned.
"I'm sorry, I'll make it more clear. You're fired," Rachel snaps before practically throwing her phone down on the table.
Kenton finds himself staring at the phone, wide-eyed with her.
"I can't believe I just did that. Oh my… What did I just do?" Rachel says bring her hands up to her face in disbelief.
"I believe you just fired your publicist," Kenton says.
"I did…" Rachel says, and then a smile slowly blossoms on her face. She laughs. "I did!"
"Congratulations," he says with a chuckle.
"Kenton…where do I go from here?" She says, wide-eyed.
He tilts his head to the side, squinting at her. "Did you mean it? All those things you said to your now ex-publicist."
"I…" Rachel says, looking down. He waits on edge because this really is it. She looks up sharply, and everything about her seems renewed with purpose and determination. "I did. No more hiding. I will only be me."
"I am glad to hear it," Kenton says.
"Do you think it's too late? Do you think I've lost her forever?"
"No," he says firmly.
Rachel nods her head, taking a shaky breath. Things are quiet between them again, and Kenton takes in the sun on his back, the light breeze playing in his hair, and the smile Rachel is trying to hold back.
Then she can't hold back anymore. "I mean, if a guy like you can still manage to get Sydney back after almost a year…" she teases.
He laughs, heart feeling light. "Yeah, yeah…"
Sydney takes him out to dinner after he finishes his first final. They're taking things slow, keeping the conversation light for now. After his finals, they'll sit down and discuss everything that went wrong and everything they need to do better. But for now, she smiles at him, and he feels real.
He laughs as Sydney insists on escorting him back to his apartment.
"I offered to take you out, I'll walk you back. But I'm not coming in yet. You have to work a little bit for that," Sydney says.
"And Quinn's at my place this week," he says lightly. They're both teasing, but they also agreed, as part of taking it slow, that they won't be falling into bed with each other so quickly either. Though he will admit that it's been heavily on his mind.
Sydney rides the elevator with him to his floor. They get off, and she holds his hand as they walk toward the door.
"You sure you don't want to come in for a drink or something? Nothing more. You can say hi to Quinn," he says. He honestly doesn't want her to leave yet.
She smiles, and then nods her head with a touch of chagrin. "I'll come in for a minute."
He opens the door and gestures for her to go on inside. He follows her to find Quinn sitting on his couch, talking on the phone. She's sitting up, shoulders tense. Her gaze tracks over to them after a moment. She waves at them, but doesn't relax.
"I might have encouraged Rachel to call Quinn this evening," Sydney says lowly as they hover in the kitchen.
"What does that mean for us?" Quinn asks. She sounds guarded.
There's a pause, and Quinn takes a shaky breath. "Okay," she says. "I'll see you then, Rachel." She cradles the phone in her hand as she slumps back against the couch.
"She fired her publicist," Quinn says slowly, gazing up at the ceiling. Kenton exchanges a look with Sydney. "Oh don't worry, she told me you two already know."
"Hey Kenton, I'm actually going to go ahead and go," Sydney says. He looks at her in surprise, but she angles her head toward Quinn. Her message is clear. Talk to her you idiot. He nods.
"I'll talk to you later then?" he asks.
"Yeah, you better," Sydney says, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. He wants nothing more than to press her against the counter and kiss her senseless, but it's not the time or place. He is, however, content feeling her lips on his skin again.
"Sorry if I'm in the way," Quinn says after Sydney closes the door behind her.
He walks over and plops down beside her on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. "So…" he says, but he has no idea where to start.
"You still aren't very good at this," Quinn says dryly.
"The talk thing? Hell no, it's the worst. But let me ask you this," he says, sitting up and meeting her gaze. "Do you still love her?"
"With everything," Quinn answers immediately. Her voice is laced with conviction.
"And you're both willing to work for it?"
"She says she doesn't want to hide. She says she wants to take this next journey with me by her side if I'm ready for that kind of public examination of my life."
"And if you're not?" Kenton asks.
Her eyes leave little doubt as to her opinion of that question. "I'm willing to work for it."
Over the next week, Kenton feels like every time he comes home there's a new bouquet on the table. Every last flower that gets delivered is a gardenia.
He takes a page out of Rachel's book and orders flowers for Sydney. He shies away from gardenias though as that seems to mean something to them beyond his understanding.
He gives up trying to meet Rachel's level of courtship in order to impress Sydney when a flashdrive arrives with yet another bouquet of gardenias. Quinn plugs it into her laptop and finds a solitary file on it. She clicks the file, opening her video player.
Rachel appears on the laptop screen. Her pixeled figure waves and then gestures behind her where a small orchestra's worth of musicians wave toward the camera as well.
"I guess knowing enough musicians to put together your own band is one of the benefits to being in show business," Kenton says.
Quinn shushes him, eyes trained on the screen.
"For you, Quinn," Rachel says on the video, and then she breaks into a beautiful, but still upbeat arrangement of RENT's "I'll Cover You." Quinn eyes are glossy by the time Rachel sings the last note.
When Rachel and Quinn finally see each other again, it's at his graduation. Along with Sydney and his parents, they come to the ceremony and proudly clap when he receives his diploma.
Afterwards, they all go to the reception hosted by the business school. Being a businessman himself, his father quickly gets sucked into conversation with one of his professors, and Kenton finds himself being drawn into the conversation without much of a chance to say no. When he finally escapes, he can't find Sydney or Quinn or Rachel.
He texts Sydney, and she replies that she went outside to get some fresh air. He understands. It's a lot of formality and suits for her tastes. He opts to find her, taking a back door in order to get outside quicker. When he turns the first corner, he hears Rachel and Quinn's voices. He can't help himself from listening in further. They're just down the next hallway, seated closely to each other on a bench.
"I've convinced my agent that this is what I want. That with me, you get you. I've also hired a new publicist," Rachel says. "One who is willing to work with us—both of us."
"This is it then?" Quinn says.
"This is it," Rachel says. "Us, together—from here on out."
"I'm ready," Quinn says seriously.
"If I could, I'd take back how I handled everything this past year. I made a mess of things and took one wrong step after another. I..I almost ruined us."
"It wasn't just you, Rachel. I made so many mistakes too. But what matters now is that we've found our way back."
"We'll get it right this time," Rachel says earnestly.
And those words, for whatever reason, enkindle. Quinn meets Rachel in a frenzied, impassioned kiss, one that is too intimate for him to watch. So Kenton refrains from lingering any longer and continues on his path to find Sydney.
Rachel's movie premiers at the end of August. Kenton watches with Sydney as Rachel makes appearances on every talk show and promo imaginable across the country. Everywhere, they ask about the blonde woman seen by her side in numerous photographs and reports. And everywhere, Rachel unfalteringly tells them about Quinn, the love of her life.
End
A/N: Thank you for reading! If you made it through, I hoped you enjoy. Thank you as always to thoughtsinorange for her support and help writing this fic.
It took me a day and a half to write The Roommate, and it took me about three and a half weeks to write this sequel. Usually I feel that if I'm struggling with a fic that much, it's time to abandon the idea altogether. However, I really did want to tell this story. It just turned out that the story of Rachel and Quinn falling apart and coming back together was a little harder to tell than their evolution to romantic partners.
You might notice that this fic ended up sharing some similar themes with Equilibrium (just you know, without the life and death aspect). Truthfully, I didn't really see the similarities till after I wrote it, but I guess this struggle of Rachel having to make choices with her relationship and her career is one that really calls out to me.