AN: YES. I am well aware of the fact that this is about half as short as the previous one. But when the story is done, it's done :)
It's my first time writing from Rachel's POV - in fact, it's the first time writing from a POV that's not Quinn. Let me tell you guys, DAMN it's hard to write from Rachel's POV! Rachel Berry is one difficult character to write, so first, compliments to the Glee writers for thinking this girl up and even keeping her like she is, annoying as she may be. Point: There's a big fat chance that I got heavily OOC on a couple of occasions, feel free, feel MORE than free to point it out, because staying in character is definitely something that I really wanna work on. I do hope that you like it. The song is Just Like Heaven by The Cure. For the original on Youtube:

.com/watch?v=n3nPiBai66M

I'm... curious to desperate with wanting to know how badly I messed up with writing not-Quinn, so any and all reviews are greatly appreciated. Like, I mean, my heart starts beating faster when I read that I've got a review, and my eyes start shining with eagerness. Reviews are, to put it plain, the best thing ever.

Enjoy the story, and I hope you like it! :)

Oh, wait, maybe I should have mentioned this earlier :P Quinn's not pregnant! She joined Glee, but she's combining it with the Cheerio's. She does hang out with the Gleeks, though.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, I don't own any of the characters, and I don't own the rights to the song Just Like Heaven by The Cure. Wow, I feel really lame summing up all these supercool things that I do not own.


Just Like Heaven

Quinn Fabray is very ticklish.

Who would have guessed? It is a nice surprise to find out about her. It adds to her humanity, usually so cleverly covered up by her uniform. And the fact that I am one of the few persons she allows to tickle her, adds to our evolving friendship. Her smile as she obviously enjoys the physical contact, honest happiness in her eyes - which is something I rarely see in her hazel orbs these days - is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Finn is cute, very cute, and tall and quite handsome. But Quinn has this obvious, undeniable beauty, that is clear to everyone. Even someone like Artie, who doesn't pay attention to the looks of other girls then Tina, has admitted that he thought Quinn was a natural beauty. It's just there, and you can't look past it. And it's never more obvious then when her guard is down.

I am delighted to declare that she has commenced letting her guard down around me when we started becoming friends a couple of weeks ago. When she joined Glee, she actually became somewhat approachable, and so we started talking on occasion. Bonding over Glee, Finn and Puck and your typical "girl-stuff", we found that we actually got along quite well. The only bad thing is that, now she lets her guard down around me, she has become even more beautiful to me. It almost hurts to look at her, and although it's insane, everytime I see her happy, I myself am overjoyed.

These circumstances have driven us to the point where we are now; in the practice room, hours after Glee is done. My parents think that I am home, where they will not be tonight. Her parents think that she is with Santana, but instead, she chose to stay behind. Here, with me. Neither of us want to leave this room, where we have been bonding, sharing and laughing ever since Glee stopped. The sun will set soon, and the school is probably going to close within the hour. Outside of the janitors, who will be leaving soon, we are alone. About to be locked in the school overnight, but too absorbed to care. Right now, there is nothing I want more than being locked in the school overnight with Quinn Fabray. I know where they have stacked the mattresses from the commercial, I'm sure we can find one if we need to, and food is not a problem either; we raided pretty much every locker we knew how to break into and the teacher's lounge had quite a heap of nourishment as well. I even have clean clothes, since there was no slushie facial today. Theoretically, we could stay here all night long, never breaking this moment. Neither of us has really brought up the fact that we should be going home, and I really don't want to. And I know she doesn't either.

She doubles over in laughter when I don't stop tickling her.

"Stop! Stop, Rachel! STOPSTOPSTOP!" I pull my hands away and she keeps on giggling a little while I give her a little time to catch her breath.

"You know Rachel, there's no one who can find the weak spots on my body as well as you can." She says, still laughing a little, looking flustered and breathing hard.

She suddenly stands up and pulls me with her.

"Show me how you do that trick

The one that makes me scream" she said

"The one that makes me laugh" she said

And threw her arms around my neck

"Show me how you do it

And I promise you I promise that

I'll run away with you

I'll run away with you"

I must have heard incorrectly, though it sounds strangely familiar. Is it because these are words that, in one way or another, I have imagined her saying to me in my dreams over and over again?

"What?" I ask.

The exuberant smile drops from her face as she realizes what I understood from her words, and I immediately feel stupid for saying anything that could wipe a smile like that away.

"Those are lyrics, to an 80's song. Just Like Heaven by The Cure?" I noticed that she had yet to remove her arms from my neck.
Explaining why it sounded so awfully familiar.

"Alternative rock music isn't exactly my style, Quinn. I'm more the Broadway kind of girl. And I enjoy ballads, of course."

"You're not serious." She rolls her eyes, exaggerating the sarcasm in a way that could only be called endearing. It warmed my heart so it melted a little.

Spinning on that dizzy edge

I kissed her face and kissed her head

And dreamed of all the different ways I had

To make her glow

"Why are you so far away?" she said

"Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you

That I'm in love with you"

I punish her for her sarcastic remark by tickling her again, and she doubled over again. I love that I know exactly how her body's going to react, although it also makes me sad. I know that I could use my power, my knowledge of exactly how my touches can affect her, for other uses. I could make love to her, and she wouldn't know what hit her. I'm fairly certain that there's not a person out there who knows her body as well as I do at this point in time.

When she begs for mercy, I stop again, and she throws her arms around me again in ecstasy. I stare up into her eyes and find myself completely and utterly absorbed by the mix between laughter and a serious look in them. I forget to breathe until the dizziness catches up with me. I press a kiss to her cheek, and standing on my tiptoes I manage to touch my lips to her forehead. Her face is glowing, and again I think with sorrow of all the things I could do to her that would surely make her so happy. The amazing things that will never happen, because I'll never have the chance. She's a straight, Christian girl, who has a history of valuing her popularity over anything else and who used to detest me to her core. All things added, I know that I stand little a chance with her. So I'll have to take this, a friendship, knowing that she would probably love it too if it ever became more, but she would never give herself a chance to find out. With her face mere inches away from mine, she is just so close. Body to body. Breath to breath. She is closer to me than I ever would have imagined 6 months ago. Yet, the definition of out of my reach.

"Why are you so far away?" I whisper.

"Why won't you ever know, that I'm in love with you?"
"Oh, you do know the song! Right? I mean, I didn't really hear you there. I thought it was the song. You gotta speak up, Rach. I know for a fact your voice is louder and more piercing than this. What was it you--"

"That I'm in love with you."

I don't really know what I'm doing. It's the truth. These are just the lyrics, but I think the look in my eyes is giving away that it more. If she somehow gets the nerve to ask me about it, I can always hide behind the song.

She brings her head a little closer to mine, angling it forward. My heart starts racing. Does she realize?

"I love you, too."

I don't know what to say to her. But I don't have to speak, for the first time. Because before I have a chance to reply, she moves as a flash of lightning and presses her lips to mine.

The door slams with a loud noise. This is our last chance. If we wanna leave, we gotta sprint out now. But neither of us does. Because Quinn is kissing me. And there is not a single thing in the world that could possibly keep me from her right now. Nothing can hinder me in living at least some of my fantasies; declaring my love, kissing her, being completely honest with her. She pulls away, and I am scared that she's going to say that it was a mistake. But she only says:

"Ready to dig for those mattresses we've earned?"
"It's a relief to know that our hard work at that commercial after all gets an opportunity to pay off." I reply smiling.

You

Soft and only

You

Lost and lonely

You

Strange as angels

Dancing in the deepest oceans

Twisting in the water

You're just like a dream

I grab her hand and lead her backstage, to where the costumes - and I know, the mattresses - are. It takes some dragging, but somehow we manage to get 2 mattresses out in the music room. Also, some pieces of fabric that could be used for blankets. She falls down, and drags me with her, pulling me inside her arms, kissing me deeply.

The longer she kisses me, the more certain I am. It's her. Boys aren't it for Rachel Berry. It's Quinn. This is what I have been longing for more than anything, and the truth - however confronting it may be - is that boys don't have such long, blonde soft hair, or sweet whispers of slender fingers. It's her, and her only, with her feather light touch, and soft skin. My mind soars with the comprehension, that it is so right that we have finally found each other. Both of us have lost our ways more than once, and I know that we both have experienced rejection and loneliness. But this, swimming through the blankets and feeling weightless as if in water or air, this is my point being proven. Although these touches are strange to each other, with a girl on both giving and receiving end, I prove my knowledge of her body in this chance that I have. And I know that she knows it, too. That there is no one in the world who can touch her like I can. Just like there is no one in the world who can do to me what she does, sometimes even without her knowing. When at last we have worn each other out for the moment with kisses and love, and lay ourselves down for sleep, she folds her body around mine. The sun is closer to rising again than to it's setting several hours ago, and I whisper in her ear with a ticklish breath that has her giggling again:

"You're just like a dream."

Even before I close my eyes, I know that she is my dream. That she will be my dream again this night. And when I fall asleep, I turn out to be right again, as I dream about the girl who's body is molded against mine.

Daylight licked me into shape

I must have been asleep for days

And moving lips to breathe her name

I opened up my eyes

And found myself alone alone

Alone above a raging sea

That stole the only girl I loved

And drowned her deep inside of me

I wake up, cold, and stretch my body. The light of day is coming through the window, my body feels strained and I am tired and disorientated. I never wake up because of the light. And there is no music. I do know, however, where I am. How could I forget, when this night has been all that was in my dreams tonight?

"Quinn?" I say breathily, before opening my eyes.

There is no Quinn. I look beside me, and don't even find a mattress to prove that she was there before. There is no trace that she actually spend the night with me outside of my memory. I know I'm not crazy. I don't think so. Dreams have seemed real at times, but not this real. As realization starts dawning, I blink away my tears. I hear a sea of teens flooding the school and imagine my schoolmates walking through the halls. That's where she is. With them. Curse them. Those Cheerio's. Why does she feel that desperate need to be something she isn't? That peer pressure, they push you into a perfect shape and force you to mold yourself to fit it. Quinn has more than that shape inside of her, and I saw it, but when the morning came she just slipped into the form that she knows so well. They took her away from me again. But not after this night. I don't know if I would rather have the night not happening at all. Sure, it was one of the best nights of my life, if not the best, but is anything worth this crushing pain?

You

Soft and only

You

Lost and lonely

You

Just like heaven

I take away the mattress and slip inside a bathroom to change and make sure that I look presentable. When I trace the steps that I make every day, I can't seem to get my head into the day. I can only get my head into the night, with sweet whispers, soft touches, a feeling of unity and a place to belong. So sure, that she was going to be the only one. It stings that she still is, she still feels like my only one. But she obviously cannot handle any kind of serious relationship with me. Not if she wants to keep her position, and who was I to give up that strong position for, that she had worked so hard for to acquire? No, she was to return to the way it had been, and I was too. Back to feeling lost. Back to lonely nights. Only a little bit worse now, knowing exactly what I was missing.

I walk to my locker, keeping my eyes on the ground, still fighting back tears, but hopefully I would be strong enough to handle it, strong enough to make it through the day without breaking down. When I look up again - Rachel Berry walks with her head held high - I see the shape of Quinn leaning against my locker. She is talking to Santana, but as I rapidly near her, she gestures for Santana to go ahead without her. Santana hesitates, staying within a few feet's distance. Quinn steps aside to let me go to my locker, and I make sure that I don't look in her eyes. If I look, I know I will see her rejection and denial of last night. Or maybe I will see no emotion at all. And while those hours where she felt so trusted are sealing themselves inside my heart, I don't want to see it. I don't want to see her regret, I don't want to see her acting like it never happened. I myself am already doubting the truth enough as it is; part of me becomes surer every minute that it was just a hallucination or a dream. How great is the chance that Quinn Fabray would kiss me? Ticklish or not, that kind of physical contact remains unlikely. I have already deluded myself enough, dreaming of relationships that the president of the Celibacy club, a religious straight girl - who is supposed to hate me - would never pursue. Not even if she could possibly want to. Perhaps it really was all a dream.

That is, until I feel her lips touch my ear, and I hear the softest possible, yet audible, whisper:
"You're just like heaven."
I turn around like someone stabbed me, but I see her walking off with Santana again, ponytail dancing behind her.

Maybe she's not ready now. But maybe, someday she will be.

And when that day comes, I will still be there. I'll wait until she's ready. Because she's just like heaven, too.