*0*0*

Goodnight From Me, Good Morning To You

*0*0*

The communications building was not somewhere you frequented, nor was it a building you were at all familiar with. The classrooms down in the basement looked like they hadn't been frequented in years, but from the noise coming from the one at the end, you knew that was not true for all of them.

You had only found yourself there because you knew you wouldn't make it through the first semester if you were to carry on the way you had. The loneliness was killing you, or it would kill you, and Mike's friendly offer was the best you'd had to date, so why would you turn that down? You would have to be an idiot to.

The slow trek over to the Communications building, and then down into the basement, might have been daunting, and yes, it did fill you with an anxiety you were not familiar with, but it was going to be worth it. You were sure of it. It needed to be worth it, because in all honesty, when you could be honest with yourself, it was your last hope.

Though, as you neared the door, you could feel the anxiety mounting, making your heart beat to an unknown beat, faster and faster, and drown out all other noise but the continuous thump, thump, thump in your chest. But you had to take the plunge, there was no other way. It needed to be done.

Reaching out, hand on the door knob, you could feel your body clench up tight, but you knew it would pass, in time, it would pass. You needed it to, as you had to open the door. You hadn't come all that way for nothing, and God, a whole new college experience might be waiting for you on the other side of that damn door. The least you could do was open it and find out.

Yes, the music was slightly off putting as you couldn't work out how many other people were on the other side of the door, but if they were friendly, much like Mike had been, then it might be exactly what you need. They might break you from the loneliness you were constantly living in.

And speaking of Mike, what if he wasn't there? What if he wasn't on the other side of the door? What would you then say? What if they asked you to leave? Would they look at you with pity? Would they judge you? Would the world do you a favour and swallow you whole to ease your humiliation? And fuck, why was this so damn hard?

Where had the head cheerleader gone? Where had the HBIC disappeared to?

Your questions were answered moments later when a sharp pain shot up your spine and across your rib cage. That's where she'd gone. The HBIC had been totalled by a truck, and without your backbone leading the charge, your mask protecting you from the world, you were now at the mercy of it. The only person looking out for you was you; you needed to remember that.

Christ, Rachel had done that. Day after day, slushie after slushie. She'd held her head up high and pushed onwards, pushed against you when it was you rallying to get her kicked out of school or pressure her to leave herself. So you could do thi. If Rachel Berry could face your wrath in all it's glory, you could open a damn door.

Getting a firmer grip of the handle, you too a deep breath and finally opened the door. You had spent so long being a coward, now was the time to change that. So, taking the last plunge needed, you stepped inside, with the music getting louder, and the laughter hitting your ears, and with the scared schoolgirl look pushed firmly behind a mask of indifference.

You were Quinn Fabray, for goodness sake, you could open a door and walk into a room. What the hell was wrong with you?

*0*0*

The thing about opening a door, is one has to walk through it. And you did. You walked through. But once on the other side, you're faced with the unknown, and that moment of pure terror, that moment of sheer anxiety had you regretting it, had you wishing you had remained in your dorm, hidden from the world.

And then your heartbeat was no longer the only thing you could hear in your ears, but now the sound of the music that had been playing, and you could finally focus your gaze, and it wasn't as terrifying as you thought it would be.

The room itself was most likely similar to that of all the other classrooms on the floor. It had tiny windows, up by the ceiling, which were covered in muck and dust, hiding what you assumed was a main thoroughfare outside, as you could make out people walking by. There were still the telltale signs it used to be a classroom, too, with boards on the wall, and the layout screaming 'educational use', but there were hardly any desks in sight.

Instead, the place had been kitted out with couches and seats, the aforementioned music player, which actually was so much more than that now that you looked. It was a record player, hooked up to speakers, with boxes of vinyls, and several laptops all plugged in, surrounded by a ridiculous amount of cables, all leading somewhere, and there were at least three people crowding round, all playing about. But even with them tampering with the music, David Bowie's Modern Love blasted from the speakers unaffected.

It was loud enough to

"Hey! You made it!" Mike grinned, coming over, and you shot him a smile.

"Yeah," you replied, still feel anxious, but the feeling easing the longer he looked at you. He genuinely seemed pleased, and that was a relief. He wasn't just being polite. His offer was genuine.

"Come on in," he waved, and you moved closer, shutting the door behind you, and ignoring the few heads that lifted to see what was going on. "You're just in time, too."

"Oh?"

"We're having a bit of a competition soon, hence all the commotion," Mike said, pointing over to the cover where all the music was located. "Whether you realise it or not, you're surrounded by music geeks, and in a few minutes we'll be deciding who is the King Geek of our little motley crew."

"Queen," another voice added, and you turned to see who had joined the conversation. "I intend to take my crown back," she stated, smirking, causing Mike to roll his eyes.

You recognised her voice, or at least, it sounded somewhat familiar, but you couldn't place it. And you'd definitely never met her before; you would have remembered her. You doubted anyone would be able to forget her.

She looked mildly pissed off, but still stunningly attractive, with a harsh gaze that made you lick your lips and try to clear the dryness in your throat. You were used to girls like her, ridiculously beautiful, but back then, when you had to deal with them, the HBIC was in charge; now you just felt like a floundering fool, unable to string a sentence together.

"Who's your friend?" she asked Mike, her eyes sweeping over you once, like you weren't even worth looking at, and okay, wow, that was one way to kill the attraction.

"Quinn, this is Santana. Santana, this is Quinn," Mike said, introducing the two of you. You gave her a polite smile, but it wasn't returned. Instead, she turned back to Mike to speak.

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't bring in strays." It was said in a way that was meant to make you uncomfortable, and it worked, because you wanted to head for the door, but you weren't going to give her the satisfaction.

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't be a bitch," Mike shot back, smiling as he spoke, trying to appease the situation.

"I made no such agreement," Santana replied, waving her hand dismissively at him.

"Of course not, that would be too much hard work for you." Mike ignored Santana's glare, which prompted her to add something further, only this time, she actually turned to you.

"Nice meeting you," she said, with no inclination whatsoever that she was pleased to meet you at all.

"Likewise," you replied, equally as icy, cocking your eyebrow as you did so.

She cocked her head in return, just ever so slightly, and a smirk played on her lips. So she definitely understood that you were going to challenge her if she pulled that shit, and apparently, was amused by it.

Without another look, Santana turned and walked away; heading towards the group around the laptops and speakers. She was welcomed like the Messiah, which was very weird, but whatever, you were new, you'd learn why people flocked to her when she stepped up to a dj deck in time.

"You have to excuse Santana. She takes a while to get used to," Mike said, giving you an apologetic look. You shook your head, and fobbed it off, not wanting to make a fuss about it. You had dealt with girls like Santana before, and you suspected you always would, so there was no reason to cause an problem.

"Forget about it. So what do they do, exactly?" you asked, pointing back towards the group that Santana went to join.

"Basically, they all like to think they're the next hotshot dj, which they're not," he teased, "so they each get a minute and a half to mix the sickest song they can, and they have to use a pre selected song at some point during it. And I think today, we have about seven contenders who are going to give it a shot."

"Is this something you all do often?"

"About once a week." Nodding, you were stopped from asking any more questions when the music was cut short. It was the call to attention the room was waiting on, and like everyone else, you sat watching, waiting, wondering what you were about to witness.

Honestly, you weren't quite sure what to expect. Mike had told you enough to guess what would happen, but when the intro to the song finally kicked in, it was not at all like you had anticipated.

The song was some old school rock cover that everyone knows the beat to and the lyrics, but hardly anyone can remeber the name of, and you assumed watching it all play out was going to be boring, dull, and not at all that interesting, but after a few guitar riffs, several people nodding their head to the beat, were all too happy when the song mixed with another, giving them a stronger beat to dance to, and then you understood how they based who was the winner.

The dancers amongst the group, and there seemed to be quite a few, were trying their level best to stick with it, to dance it out, but the song was too disjointed, the mix felt sloppy, and it showed. They were definitely not the winner. But instead of a complete pause, the second mix began right off the back of the other, bouncing in, playing the pre selected track, but with another backing beat, increasing the tempo, and that seemed to meet the dancer's expectations, and it pulled a much bigger response.

You could see the smug smile on the guy's face, but Santana's cocky smirk was making you think she had something much better planned. You figured she wouldn't look that confident if she didn't have something good up her sleeve, and you were definitely not wrong.

By the time it was her turn, the last in the group, Mike was up dancing with another dancer, claiming this was one of the best ways them freestyle. You could definitely see why.

And then the mix changed, and it caused everyone to stop, freezing on site, and looking to the mixing tables, where Santana had completely changed things up. The original rock song guitar riffs were back, but she'd mixed it with another set, from another familiar song you didn't know the name of, and it sounded rather mesmerising.

So much so, all dancing had stopped, but when the song kicked in after a few more bars, the response was instantaneous. With the addition of at least two other songs you knew but could not recognise from the way she'd stripped them down, she definitely had a crowd pleaser, and Mike was shaking his head like he knew that would happen.

You couldn't help but look to see how Santana was responding to the downright victory taking place, but her smirk was gone, and she was focusing intently on what was in front of her. By the time she was done, there were cheers of applause and laughter, congratulating her on a job well done, and you kinda hated that she was able to pull something like that off so effortlessly, blowing everyone else out of the water. But at least now you could see where her cockiness came from. She was talented, you'd give her that.

As if she knew you were watching, she lifted her head, ignoring the many requests she was getting for a copy of the full mix, and looked straight at you, raising her eyebrow as she did so. It was a page right out of your book, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at her, earning a smile. Whatever, you weren't suddenly going to start fawning at her feet just because she knew how to mix a few songs together.

"Was that good or was that good?" Mike teased, grinning brightly.

"That was...that was pretty awesome," you laughed, biting your lip, because it really was, and you were really glad you were able to witness it.

"I'm glad. Now, come one, dance with me. We have about thirty minutes until half of these losers have to go to class, but I think that's enough time to maybe convince you to come back here sometime?" he looked at you in question, but instead of answering, you accepted his hand to dance.

His smile was contagious, and you were definitely willing to come back. You actually felt welcome, for a change. Not like some stranger in the crowd. Not like a stray in the corner of the room. You felt like you were part of it. You felt involved.

It was a pretty damn awesome change.

*0*0*

Lying in bed that night, you felt a like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You felt a little easier, a little lighter, a little happier. And if all that had happened thanks to one good encounter with people your own age, then good lord, you were pathetic. But a good pathetic, you guessed.

Some of the loneliness had ebbed away, and while you still couldn't sleep, at least you had the day to relive over in your head, where you could just enjoy it one more time.

Making it even better, with your headphones in, your roommate sound asleep, Rosario Cruz played one of the songs used in the mix-off earlier; Black Betty by Ram Jam. It had you smiling, but also recalling Santana's mix, and okay, you would have prefered to hear that instead, but maybe if you asked Mike, he'd get you copy of it. There was just no way you were going to ask Santana herself.

"Alright everyone," Rosario began, "my last song tonight has been stuck in my head all day, so why not share the pain? Nah, you'll all love it, trust me. When have I steared any of you wrong?" You could hear the beginning of the song repeating in the background as Rosario set it up to play. "Okay, goodnight from me, and good morning to you, this is Modern Love by David Bowie; because apparently this song isn't the only thing I can't get out of my head. Enjoy and I'll see you all again bright and early tomorrow."

The familiar intro began, and you found yourself smiling once again. Lying back in your bed, you looked up at the ceiling, and okay, yeah, Rosario's set could still fill you with such joy and comfort, but with the added memory of the people you met, the fun you had, the song, it made things so much better.

Maybe, just maybe, things were finally going to turn around for you.

You could only hope.

It's not really work

It's just the power to charm

I'm still standing in the wind

But I never wave bye bye

But I try, I try

Modern Love