If I forgot who I am,
would you please remind me?
::
Quinn goes to McKinley the next day with Santana. She tells her she just really missed glee club, but really it's mostly because she's trying to avoid her house and her mother, who she hasn't spoken to since her big blow up. Santana side-eyes her like she knows Quinn's fucking with her, but Quinn pretends she doesn't understand the look on her friend's face.
But mostly, well – she looks up from the book she's reading at the back of the choir room, and watches as the New Directions dance and sing along to Jingle Bell Rock. Santana's standing in front of them with Mike, hands on her hips as she spews out insults at their "lackluster number that nearly put her to sleep," and Puck and Mercedes are laughing from their perch on top of the piano.
Finn's standing to the side, laughing and shaking his head at them, and he glances in her direction, and Quinn can see the way his dimples deepen when he smiles.
There are a lot of reasons why she can't seem to stay away from McKinley, and it's partly because of this guy making her heart flutter with his smile she knows all too well.
::
She's just put on Love, Actually when her phone beeps at one-thirty in the morning. She's been texting Finn for the past hour, so she already knows it's him before she even checks her messages. Her mother's sound asleep upstairs; Quinn didn't come home until midnight, and they didn't have a chance to speak, which is just the way Quinn likes it.
"Im coming ovr in 10mins if that's alryt w/u?" says Finn's text, followed by a ":)"
She totally doesn't smile when she texts back, "I have ben & jerry's and a movie if you're up for it."
"Ur on," comes his reply not a minute later, and she doesn't even get annoyed by his atrocious grammar as she stands to take the tub of ice cream from the freezer.
::
"I couldn't sleep," Finn says, as they're sitting on opposite ends of the couch, socking feet pressed against together in the middle as they share the tub of cookie dough ice cream. A box of warm pizza lies open on the coffee table in front of them, courtesy of Finn. "Sorry if I bothered you or anything."
The thing is, she wasn't bothered at all. "It's fine. I wouldn't have let you in if I didn't want you here, would I?"
He kind of smiles at her sheepishly then, and her heart kind of jumps when she notices the ice cream on the corner of his lip, so adorably Finn that she can't help but love him a little.
He's talkative throughout the movie ("I don't get it, why is that Harry Potter dude with that weird genie lady professor?") and it's endearing more than annoying, like she would've found it three years ago when they were sixteen and she had his heart in the palm of her hand. Somehow, she ends up beside him, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip as the credits start to roll.
"Should I go pop out the DVD for a new movie?"
"No," she says, surprising herself, and lays her head on his shoulder, tugs on the front of his shirt to pull him closer. "Stay right here."
She can see the way his lips curve into a smile, and she feels how his heart's pounding away at his chest from where her palm lies on top of it, warm and familiar. She closes her eyes as the music from the credits keeps playing in the background, and she feels Finn's hand playing with the strands of her hair.
"You're messing it up," she mumbles, but it's half-hearted and her voice is heavy with sleep.
Finn just chuckles and goes, "This feels nice. Like old times."
It really is, but she doesn't say anything. She just really wants to sleep.
"It's like that day from junior year," Finn continues, oblivious, or maybe just struggling to say what's in his chest while he's already begun, "you told me that this is where you belonged…sometimes I still feel the same. Like this is where I belong, too."
She's not sure if she's heard him right, because blackness consumes her right then. She just remembers a pleasant thrumming in her chest and a feel of the warm, steady beating of Finn's own heart under the palm of her hand, the way it's always been with the two of them.
She wakes up with her head on the cushions and no trace of him in sight, except for the lingering scent of him sticking to her clothes and skin.
::
The winter festival's tomorrow, as Finn keeps reminding the glee kids dancing along to this awesome remix of top 40 hits that Tina found somewhere on Tumblr, but his effort is futile. Quinn smirks at him a little from where she and Santana are sharing earphones at the back of the choir room, listening to Santana's favorite playlist on her iPod.
"Guys!" he tries again, and finally resorts to banging hard on the cymbals to get everyone's attention. Everyone freezes, and Santana's complaining (loudly and in Spanish) from beside her, but Quinn just laughs.
"Great!" Finn grins a bit as he walks to the front of the room. "Finally got everybody's attention. So! Mr. Schue's coming back tomorrow to watch us at the festival, so you guys better give it your all, okay? I'm proud of all you and what we've accomplished so far. We're going to Nationals again this year and like, we're totally gonna defend our crown, I can feel it. I know you guys will be awesome."
It's cheesy and it's preachy, but it's Finn so she doesn't expect anything else. Kitty just scoffs from where she's filing her nails, looking bored. "Kitty-cat's got this, don't worry," and Quinn sort of smirks, because bitch or not, she kind of likes Kitty.
"We're having a party next week before all the grads leave for college again," Finn says. "Kind of like a send-off, so I expect every one of you to be there, alright?"
"Aww, that's sounds fun," Mercedes says, and everyone else follows suit, breaking out of their circle to give and take hugs, but all Quinn can concentrate on is how she didn't even want to come here in the first place and now feeling like she doesn't want to leave anymore. It's not the place she doesn't want to let go of just yet, really; it's more of the people, her friends, her Santana and her Brittany and her Finn. She finds his eyes amidst all the commotion that breaks out after his speech, and isn't at all surprised to see that he's studiously trying not to look at her, too.
She's grown so used to seeing Finn's stupid face every day over the last week and a half, and she tries to not let it bother her how she's not going to be able to anymore, that she has to go back to New Haven where her life is waiting for her, and he's staying in Ohio, miles away.
She doesn't want to admit it, not to anyone, but she's really going to miss this big goofball. So she walks over to him to give him a hug that he returns with warmth (and all the things they can't say to each other), and she stays in his arms for a few minutes, almost like she belongs there.
::
They stay late at school, and Quinn watches the way the sun sets and explodes into magnificent colors across the horizon, spilling into the choir room and filling it with a sense of warmth. It feels like a strange metaphor, if anything. Like everything is ending yet beginning all the same. It scares her how she doesn't know what's scarier – trying to change the situation or not realizing that the situation is trying to change her.
She ends up sandwiched between Finn and Santana as they're standing in a circle before they separate for the night, as is tradition before every performance day. Brittany and Sugar are spouting off nonsense while her friends giggle all around her, fingers latching onto each others' hands and smiles reflected in each others' eyes.
Her hands are being clutched tightly, her right in Finn's and her left in Santana's. (She hasn't felt so genuinely happy since she came back to Lima.)
Finn invites her for a drink, after everyone's gone their separate ways, and she's feeling so light and happy that she just agrees, grabbing his keys from his hand and racing him to his car, her laughter echoing into the night.
::
"How's Rachel been doing?"
Finn kind of sputters into his drink, and places his glass back on the wet, sticky bar counter before it could spill all over them both. "Um, I don't really know. We haven't really…talked much. Since we broke up."
"Oh." She taps her fingers against the countertop. "Can't say I'm surprised."
He frowns. "That we don't talk much or that we broke up?"
"Both, I guess."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know." She shrugs a little; her head's starting to become all fuzzy and light, and she drops her glass and mentally reminds herself to 'drink in moderation'. "I mean…it's been there since high school, hasn't it? This…thing between the two of you that keeps you apart."
"What thing?"
"You know. How you don't really fit into each other's lives. How you've been kind of holding Rachel back."
She knows she's said the wrong thing when his eyes darken, his hand retracting to a clenched fist on his lap. "What the fuck, Q?"
She thinks it's the alcohol pulling the words from her tongue, but she doesn't really know anymore. She doesn't know what possesses her to say, "Don't tell me it's not true. She's been destined for Broadway since she could walk and talk and you just…" Aren't. You just don't fit.
Finn turns away from her, then, lifting his glass and downing its contents in one gulp. "You're such a bitch."
Quinn stares at him and doesn't say anything. There's a tense beat, and she can see the way he shifts, the way his mouth opens to apologize, but she doesn't let him. She just throws cash on the counter and leaves.
::
She knows who it is before she even opens her front door at two in the morning.
"I'm sorry, Quinn; I don't want us to fight," he says in a tired, sad voice, and she just sighs and lets him into the house, because there's just really no point in getting mad at him anymore (because she's leaving anyway, as she keeps reminding herself). They both fucked up, and she just wants the whole thing at the bar to be over and done with.
"I don't get it," she tells him as she settles on the couch next to him, the only light in the room coming from the lamp in the corner. It fills the room with a warm, yellow glow, and it feels nice, and comfortable, to be sitting here with him in the middle of the night. "We used to fight a lot before, and it took us days before we made up. Now…"
"Yeah, I know, it's weird," Finn agrees with a little laugh. He's not looking at her, but there's a sheepish grin on his face. "That's the thing, isn't it? We keep coming back."
She doesn't really know what to say to that, so she just settles deeper into the cushions and turns on the TV, and she tolerates a rerun of Shaun of the Dead at Finn's request.
They're halfway into the movie when Finn says quietly, "I really was out of line. I'm sorry."
She sighs. "Let's not, Finn, okay? It's over. It's okay."
"I know, but I just wanted you to know. I mean, you're leaving in a few days, and I don't want you to leave with this stupid thing hanging over our heads."
"It's not a big deal," she says, even though it kind of was, but she doesn't really care anymore. He's here and they're kind of okay and she's leaving, and it doesn't really matter.
(She really doesn't know why she keeps on telling herself that.)
They sit in companionable silence for a while when Finn suddenly laughs.
"What?"
"I just remembered all of a sudden," he says, a smile lighting up his face. "When we were freshmen, and it was, like, the first day of school and I saw you walking down the hall in a really pretty dress – I think it was a blue flowery pattern thing – and I freaking ran into the doorframe of my math class. I remember 'cause Puck slapped the back of my head and called me a moron."
She laughs, too, then says, "You're kinda not that guy anymore, though, but I don't mean that in a bad way. You've – I dunno, you've grown up a bit, I guess. You're different, but you're still Finn, you know? You're still my idiot ex-boyfriend who made me fall in love with him again a year after we broke up the first time."
"Yeah," Finn says, looking down at his hands with a smile itching on the corners of his mouth. "That kiss in the hallway."
"Yeah. It was a good kiss," she says, and they laugh. It feels weird, the way they're discussing this in such a casual, friendly manner; it feels weird that they're actually discussing this at all.
Finn falls silent, then. It's never a good sign; she can see the questions burning in his eyes as his brow furrows, and she stiffens, braces herself for the fall, her walls automatically flying upright.
"Why did you kiss me?" he asks into his hands.
Oh. Her shoulders slump a little in relief, and she shrugs. "I don't know…it just felt right, I guess."
He nods. "It did."
She leans back against the throw pillows, watches him as he plays with his hands. She doesn't understand why they're having this conversation right now, and her heart is pounding a little louder – too fast and loud and out of control. She needs to abort the situation, because she can't handle the way she feels this very moment.
"Hey, Finn," she says, desperate for a change in subject. "Thanks for, you know, these past couple of days. Going on dinners and stuff. Helping with glee. Felt like old times. Hasn't felt like this since I left, not even when I came back."
"I know." His smile is a little sad, and her heart aches a little more. "Lima's gonna miss you."
"I doubt that, you know. But I guess I'm going to miss Lima, too…sort of."
"You gonna miss McKinley?"
"Not McKinley…the people, more like, I think."
He nods wordlessly again, then takes her hand, laces his fingers with hers, placing them on his lap, just looking.
She stares at the way their fingers are intertwined, and how it doesn't feel weird or awkward at all. It kind of scares her how completely natural it feels, how comforting and wonderful and missed. She looks at him, eyes inquiring. "Finn."
"Quinn, I–" He shakes his head, laughs a little bit. "I'm gonna miss you, you know. It's just that you've been here for more than a week and I've seen you every day and it makes me remember so many stuff and–"
"Finn," her heart's pounding in her ears again, insistent and loud and exhilarating, all at the same time, "stop. Don't–"
"No, Quinn. I – you shouldn't – you're so afraid of acknowledging that there are, in fact, people who care about you. I'm not like you, okay, I'm not scared of what I feel and letting other people know how I feel. I don't know, but I've been so confused lately and you're here and you're beautiful and you're you–"
"Finn," she pleads, and she's on the verge of crying.
So, Finn shuts up. He turns to look at her and clutches her fingers tighter, then leans in, touching his nose to hers, his breath warm on her cheek, waiting for her to stop him.
She doesn't want to, so she doesn't. He kisses her, and Quinn feels her heart explode in her chest, filling her with warmth.
::
She wakes up to the sound of her curtains being drawn and an obnoxiously loud voice filling her bedroom. "Winter festival shit today! Up and at 'em, fat ass!"
She buries her head under her pillow and groans. "I don't want to go."
Santana frowns, grabbing her blanket from her and throwing it on the floor, ignoring her sleepy protests. "What's wrong with you?"
Santana's looking at her with an appraising eye that Quinn just sighs, then proceeds to tell her everything: how Finn kissed her, how she didn't stop him, how she pulled away and made him leave, closing the door in his face.
"I panicked," she finishes, a little helplessly.
Santana grimaces. "Okay, but, like, for the sake of my sanity, I'm gonna ask this again: this whole Finn/Quinn thing is actually happening? Seriously?"
"I don't know!" She throws her hands up exasperatedly. "It's not like I planned for this to happen when I came back to Lima. I didn't even know he was still here. It's not like we kept in touch or anything. Last night just…happened."
Santana sighs. "This is just like high school all over again."
"I know. This is stupid, I know, I know. I don't – like, expect you to understand. You're not exactly Finn Hudson's biggest fan."
"I'm not Finn Hudson's anything," Santana corrects her, then sighs at the look on her face. "Well, it's you two. It's not like I'm really surprised; I saw the way he was looking at you, okay? It's that whole gassy infant thing, the works. I've seen that look before. I just don't want you to get hurt, okay? I mean, I was there for your pathetic Kelly Clarkson and Taylor Swift phase and I don't want to go through that again."
Quinn laughs. "You act like I wasn't there for your pathetic crying, holing up in bed, Adele phase, you know."
"Well, yeah," Santana says defensively, "but Adele is flawless."
Santana sits beside her, the bed dipping under her weight. There's a pause as Quinn looks at her hands, then she mumbles, "I don't know. I feel like he and I have both changed – grown up, you know? Like we're both finally capable of being happy with each other, I'd like to think. I'm just tired of letting guys I date define who I am. I'm not sure if I'm ready to date again until – until I learn how to find myself, you know? Or some shit like that. I don't want to go my entire life being dependent on other people or trying so hard not to become my mom and dad."
"You're not your mom and dad, okay?" Santana says. She's not touching Quinn's hand or putting an arm around her shoulders, but Quinn can feel the way Santana's warmth spreads through her as she leans against her side. "You're not. And if you're, like, not ready to date again, you shouldn't. I think that Finn will be…I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think he'd be willing to wait for you, anyway."
"Even if it takes me, like, five years?" She's smiling a little now, and she kind of wants this whole topic to be done with. It's kind of too early for this shit, this whole exposing herself thing, and it's completely exhausting and she's kind of done with this conversation. She doesn't know why she brought it up in the first place.
Santana laughs, leaning her head on Quinn's shoulder. "Even then."
::
They grab breakfast at Breadstix with the other grads save for Finn, who's already at the school with the rest of the glee members. When Puck and Quinn are left at the table, he stares at her kind of pointedly, and she frowns, leaning down to sip from her straw.
"What's with the face, Puckerman?" she says dryly.
"Well, if you must know," Puck says just as sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, and she kicks his shin beneath the table. "Finn showed up at my house last night. No, wait – at four in the freaking morning – ruined my good night's sleep, by the way – looking like shit."
"Oh."
Puck's still watching her, and it's making her feel uncomfortable. She doesn't meet his eyes. "It's 'cause of you, Q. You let him kiss you, then slammed the door in his face and shit. The dude doesn't know what to think."
"I didn't mean–"
"Look," Puck says with a deep sigh, and she kind of marvels at how serious he looks and sounds, and maybe, just maybe, this is not the same Noah Puckerman she knew in high school anymore. Maybe they all went ahead and grew up a little over the course of five months. "I know you hate talking about feelings and shit, but – talk to him, okay? Just sit down…and talk."
::
Quinn tries to avoid Finn at the high school, and Santana rolls her eyes at her, but she doesn't care because she's afraid of facing Finn today a little. She doesn't know what to make of that kiss last night and it scares her. It's stupid, but it does.
She hangs with the girls instead, then gives Brittany a kiss on the cheek right before they're needed onstage, and she hurries away, feeling Santana's hand on her back. Her eyes follow Finn as he slips away behind the curtains.
She sits with Santana and the grads in the audience. While they're laughing and cheering as Jake spins Brittany around while lifting Kitty at the same time in a completely complicated-looking dance routine, Quinn feels a hand wrap around hers.
She looks up sideways at Finn, who's innocently watching the performance, pumping a fast in the air. His hand squeezes hers once, then twice.
It's a question of sorts, and she looks back at the stage and tries to ignore the butterflies stupidly fluttering around in her chest. She squeezes back, once, a tentative response, then pulls her hand back and starts pushing through the crowd away from her friends.
::
The number was beautiful, and there's a different kind of happiness filling her heart as she stands in a circle with the old and new members of New Directions with Mr. Schue, their hands linking them all together as one as they shout towards the heavens.
They go out on a celebratory dinner and drinks at this new bar that opened up in town. Everyone's soon tipsy and dancing and shouting and jumping all over the dance floor, and they all look happy and free. But Quinn chooses to sit at the bar, alone, staring at her drink.
Santana takes a break from dancing with both Puckermans and sits on the stool beside her, breathless and sweaty and happy. "So."
Quinn sighs. "So."
"Looks like you're having fun."
"Don't even."
Santana laughs as she raises a finger at the bartender and shouts, "Two tequila shots," before turning back to her. "You figured things out yet? I mean, like, every one of us saw you guys holding hands earlier, so. Kitty was already judging your taste and shit. Don't blame her, but seriously, bitch crazy."
Quinn laughs, fingering the rim of her cocktail glass. "I don't know what this is. I feel…I don't know what I feel. I just keep thinking about how I'm leaving in a couple of days and this won't turn out good anyway. We were always jinxed; it's not like we're meant to be together, anyway."
A sigh lodges its way out of Santana's throat, then she waves at the bartender to hurry the hell up with their drinks. "Then life's kind of screwing you over, don't you think?"
"It's always screwed me over." Quinn leans away from the counter, runs a tired hand through messy hair. "I'm so fucking tired of my shit."
"Eh, well. I'm tired of your shit, too, to be honest." Quinn punches her not-so-lightly on the arm, but they're both laughing. "But if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you know how to fight back. Just…" Santana stands and grabs one of the shot glasses the barman places in front of them, nodding across the room where Finn's leaning against the wall with a beer, trying to not to stare at them, "you need to fight for what you want, too, you know? And I'm not just talking about Finn."
Then she rejoins the dance floor.
::
Quinn takes a sip of her drink, grimacing as the alcohol burns her throat as she swallows. One of her favorite songs is playing, but she can't concentrate on anything else because she knows Finn is sneaking glances at her, and she feels sixteen all over again.
She catches his eye across the bar, and she makes the decision in a split-second. The next thing she knows is that she's walking over to him, taking away his drink and leading him to the dance floor.
"Quinn," he says, his face red as she turns to face him. "What are we doing?"
She wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face in his chest, breathing in his scent. "Just dance with me, okay?"
His arms snake around her waist, holding her close. She feels his lips against the top of her head, her chest flush against his, and she can feel their hearts beating as one, fast and alive.
"Quinn," he says hoarsely. "Quinn."
She shakes her head against his chest. "Not tonight. Tonight let's just have this. Okay?"
He sighs, but he nods, his arms tightening around her waist until her hips are cradled against his. He kisses her forehead and they sway slowly to the music, hip to hip and heart to heart.
"I'm sorry about last night," he mumbles against her hair, and she sighs.
"I'm sorry about last night, too," she says quietly. "I got scared, and…"
"It's okay, I get it." Finn sways slowly in a circle, bringing her with him. He's quiet for a second, then he says, "Did you regret it?"
She knows what he's asking. She knows what he wants to hear. She knows what she wants to say, but she doesn't know if she actually has the balls to say it.
Her breath comes out in a tumbling, "No," and she feels the way he relaxes in her arms as they keep swaying in tiny circles on the dance floor. Her hands fist against the back of his shirt as she breathes in the familiar scent of him, and there's a pang in her chest, because the song's almost over and she really doesn't want to let him go.
::
"I'm not really sorry for kissing you."
She shakes her head, leaning against the cool wall outside the bar and breathes in the cold evening air. "I know." She knows. She's not really sorry, either, if she's honest with herself, and she rarely ever is.
"I just began to feel too much about you again in such a short time." Finn laughs a little shyly, scuffing the bottom of his shoes on the gravel, his face red. "It came all too fast and it scares me because after everything I still want you."
"Finn…"
"Just – just tell me if you don't feel the same way, and I swear I'll stay away from you until you have to leave and I can forget any of this ever happened." Finn's looking kind of intensely at her, and it makes her heart thump out erratic beats in her chest. It's too overwhelming, what this is; it came all too fast and it scares her because maybe after everything she still wants him, too.
"But I don't want you to forget," she says in a small voice, and she catches the way his lips transition slowly into a smile.
He's towering over her, and she can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "I think I love you, you know. Like, again. Still. Always. I don't know what the difference is anymore. I just know that I do now."
She bites her lip and lets her hair hang like a curtain, hiding her face from his, but he reaches over and brushes it back, tucks it away behind her ear.
"You don't have to say it back," he says softly, and she nods. She just takes his hand in hers, and she's still scared out of her mind but maybe, just maybe, she's wanted this all along.
Thanks to everyone who dropped reviews, favorited, or whatever! Wasn't so sure about this entire thing in the first place so I'm happy that people like it. One more chapter left to go and I'm finally done with this what-was-supposed-to-be-a-oneshot. Review? :)
