vi. i want to raise your spirits. i want to see you smile. know that means I have to leave.
.
It's Santana who drops the news days later, like she's releasing a nuclear bomb right onto Rachel's already-bruised heart without a care in the world.
"So, Q's moving out."
Rachel's head snaps up so fast, her neck actually clicks. "What?" She practically shouts the word, and Santana gives her an unimpressed look as she leans back from the volume of Rachel's voice.
"I'm sitting right here, Berry," she says. "There's no need to yell."
"Quinn is not moving out."
Santana frowns at her as she reaches across the kitchen table and steals a wedge of apple from Rachel's plate. "Well, she says she is," Santana says. "Something about wanting to be closer to campus now that she's taking on more hours."
"No," Rachel says, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. This isn't happening. "No."
Santana raises her eyebrows. "By all means, Berry, try to convince her to say," she says. "But she looks pretty set on the idea. She's already found a new place and everything."
Rachel feels as if she's had all the breath knocked out of her, and she can barely get it back. What? No. Quinn can't leave. She can't. Rachel's definitely going to lose her that way, even though she's been doing a good enough job of that already.
The two of them haven't spoken or even looked at each other in nine days. Not since the cast party, and not since Rachel went all… whatever she went.
Not since the first and last time Quinn told her she loves her.
She's in love with her.
She'll probably never stop loving her.
They have been the longest nine days of Rachel's entire life.
And now she's leaving, and Rachel feels as if the entire world is starting to spin wildly out of control. Everything was fine. Everything was just the way it was supposed to be. She had an amazing best friend, and an amazing boyfriend.
And, now, just, nothing is okay.
Nothing.
.
While Quinn may be an expert at avoiding Rachel; Rachel is an expert at being stubborn, and this calls for drastic measures. She and Quinn are going to talk about this, and she's going to get her to stay. She can't just leave, and she sure as hell can't leave without even telling Rachel.
What is that?
How can Quinn think that's even remotely okay?
So, Rachel camps out in the living room, waiting for her (she thinks) best friend to come home so they can have it out. It's a pitiful role reversal, and Rachel wonders how Quinn hasn't gone mad just sitting here night after night.
Oh.
Right.
It's because she's in love with Rachel.
.
It's almost one o'clock when Quinn finally gets back, and she's practically sneaking in after exhausting all the time she possibly could at the library and then in her office. She just wants to spend as little time in this apartment as possible because, honestly, it hasn't got any easier for her to -
"You're not leaving."
Quinn freezes where she is, cursing herself for thinking she could come and go without Rachel trying to talk to her.
"I mean, were you even going to tell me?"
Quinn turns to face her on the couch, her own expression as passive as ever. She's been forced to school her features whenever they're around each other, and it's just so terribly exhausting. "Tell you what, exactly?" she asks. "I was under the impression I said everything I needed to say."
Rachel visibly flinches, but she forces herself to rise to her feet and move towards Quinn. "You're not leaving," she repeats.
"Why not?"
"Because - because you can't."
"Actually, I can," Quinn counters, tamping down on her own anger. "And, I am."
"Why?"
Quinn's facial expression turn incredulous. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"
"Santana says you want to be closer to campus."
Quinn pinches the bridge of her nose. "Are you drunk?" she asks, looking past Rachel's form at the near-empty wine bottle on the coffee table.
"No."
Quinn sighs. "That's part of it, yes," she admits. "But I also just can't be here anymore."
Rachel's eyes pool with tears.
"Don't do that," Quinn says, shaking her head. "It's been inevitable for some time, Rach. I just - I can't. You have to understand that."
"But I need you, Quinn."
Quinn closes her eyes for a moment. "You can't say things like that to me. You can't."
"But it's true," Rachel counters.
"Please stop," Quinn says, and she's actually begging this time. "I can't keep doing this with you, Rachel. For once, I'm making a decision for myself, and I really don't need you to try to sway that. I've already done so much for you." She closes her eyes again. "I can't do this," she says. "I don't know how I'm supposed to get over you when I can barely see past you."
When she opens her eyes again, there are tears in them, and Rachel can barely breathe.
"Do you have any idea what it's like to be reminded of what you can't have every second of every day?" she asks, and Rachel almost brings up Finn, but they both know it's not the same. It was and will never be the same. "You're everywhere I look. You're literally in every fucking breath I take. I - I won't survive here. So, you're just going to have to find a way to accept it, okay? I need you to do that for me. I won't ask anything else of you. Just, allow me to get through this the way I need to."
Rachel feels her own tears start to fall. "I'm going to miss you," she mumbles.
"Oh, Rach," Quinn says, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around the brunette. "I'm going to miss you too," she says. "It'll be different, sure, but the best parts are all going to stay the same."
"Who's going to make me soup?" she asks, mumbling into Quinn's shoulder.
The blonde chuckles, squeezing her once, before she lets go and takes a step back. "I'll visit a lot," she says. "You know Britt wouldn't let me stay away. I'll cook for you then."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
.
Faced with the reality that Quinn is, in fact, leaving at the end of the month, Rachel descends into what she would call 'a manic panic.' She can barely eat or sleep, and she's definitely not cognisant enough to maintain any of her other relationships.
Her only respite is when she's on stage, and she gets to pretend to be someone else entirely for a few hours. When did her life get so complicated that she would rather be a fictional character?
Oh.
Yeah.
When Quinn decided to kiss her.
Every time she thinks about it, Rachel gets breathless. Her chest hurts and, sometimes, she even gets a headache. It's just not fair, and she can't seem to get a handle on any of her emotions surrounding Quinn's impending departure. She hasn't even managed to ask where Quinn is going. She's too terrified to know.
She doesn't want to accept it's actually happening.
But it is.
And the feelings that truth stir in Rachel are ones she can't seem to grasp, which really leaves her with one option.
She has to talk to someone.
She has to talk to Quinn.
And, now that they've 'kind of' talked about all of this, Quinn isn't exactly avoiding her anymore. But she also doesn't look particularly pleased to see Rachel when she shows up at her bedroom door just before Quinn is scheduled to attend a faculty function in an hour.
Quinn is in the middle of getting ready, her hands currently fiddling with her left earring as she lets Rachel in. The brunette can just watch in wonder as Quinn floats about her bedroom with the grace of a fucking gazelle. It's not fair.
None of this is fair.
Quinn is dressed in tailored black pants and a crisp white blouse that hugs her body in all the best ways. Her blazer is hanging off the chair at her desk, and her heels are waiting to be slipped on at her bed.
"Hey," Quinn says, putting in her right earring as she sits at her vanity.
"Hey," Rachel manages to say.
Quinn frowns, looking at her through the mirror. "What's wrong?" she asks, pausing in her movement. Her makeup can wait.
"You're busy," Rachel says as she continues just to stand there.
"I have some time," she softly says, wary of spooking the brunette. "What's wrong?"
Rachel sighs, nervously wringing her fingers together in front of her. "I - I wanted to talk to you about something."
Quinn turns in her seat to face her. "Sounds serious," she muses. "What's on your mind?"
"A lot of things," Rachel admits.
"Okay…?"
"I just - I can't stand the thought of your being gone, and it's eating away at me," she starts, finding strength from somewhere. "I know things are going to change, and I'm just - I'm selfish and greedy and just really confused, and I didn't think I would ever be any of those things when it comes to you."
Quinn frowns, trying and failing to follow what Rachel is trying to tell her.
"I need you to help me make sense of all of this," she whispers.
"Help you how?"
She keeps her gaze determinedly on the blonde. "I need you to kiss me."
The makeup brush Quinn is holding drops to the floor, and her eyes snap towards Rachel. There's a question there but she never voices it. The two of them just stare at each other for the longest time, until Quinn, finally, slowly, relaxes.
And then starts to move.
Quinn's footsteps are slow and purposeful, and Rachel can't tear her eyes away if she tried. The blonde comes to a stop right in front of her, and the entire world falls away. She lifts a hand to turn Rachel's chin, tilting it upwards slightly, and her thumb traces her bottom lip.
Rachel's own hands settle at Quinn's waist, anchoring herself in case she floats away or passes out.
Quinn's gaze drops to Rachel's mouth, and their breaths mingle in the minimal space between them. Rachel can barely think straight as Quinn leans in, and her eyes drop closed as she waits.
But the kiss doesn't come.
Instead, Quinn rests her forehead against Rachel's and sighs. Rachel's eyes flutter open, and she can just about see Quinn's closed eyes and tense brow. Quinn's thumb is still on her bottom lip, smooth in its movement.
Eventually, Quinn exhales, "No." It sounds as if it pains her to say the word, and Rachel imagines it must. "No," she says again.
Rachel furrows her brow. "But - " she starts, confused. "I thought - don't you want to?"
Quinn chuckles darkly. "I do," she says, breaking their contact and stepping back. "You have no idea how much I want to." She shakes her head. "But I won't take another kiss from you that you don't want."
Rachel shakes her head. "But I'm asking you to," she argues. "You wouldn't be taking anything."
Quinn still looks determined. "Why are you asking?" she presses. "What are you hoping to achieve?"
Rachel swallows, suddenly feeling as if this is a very important interview. "I want to be sure."
"Of what?"
Rachel closes her eyes, frustrated. She wasn't expecting this, and the words aren't coming. This is what only Quinn Fabray can do to her. "You - you make me feel things," she starts. "I thought kissing you would - " she stops, suddenly horrified with herself. "Oh, God," she says, covering her mouth. "Quinn, I'm sorry," she says. "That's just wildly inappropriate and so insanely insensitive to your feelings, and I'm just a mess, and I don't want you to go, and I just want to fix this, and what does it say about me when the only way I can think to sort out all my fucked up feelings is to kiss you?"
Quinn just stares at her for a long moment, a little dumbstruck. "I thought you grew out of the rambling."
Rachel's mouth drops open in surprise. "Quinn!"
Quinn grins at her, and Rachel is just able to register her relief that Quinn doesn't seem to hate her for her lapse in judgment. But then, a moment later, the grin is gone, and she has a sober look on her face.
"Quinn," Rachel breathes.
Quinn shakes her head. "It's very difficult for me to say no to you," she says. "My entire body is fighting with me at the moment, so I need you not to ask anything like that of me ever again, okay?"
Rachel can only stare at her.
"If ever we kiss, and I'm not holding my breath for that day, don't worry, then I want it to be because you actually want to." She presses her lips together. "Not because you're confused and want to be sure. Not because you want to prove something or want to try to get me to stay. You don't have to feel for me what I feel for you, Rachel. I've come to accept it, and I'm sorry that things have to change between us. I truly am. If ever we kiss, I want it to be because you love me, or at least will one day." She smiles sadly. "Not because you've convinced yourself you have to, in order to get me to stay. Neither of us deserves that."
Rachel has to hold back her tears because she feels even more awful after hearing that.
"Come here," Quinn says, spreading her arms to offer an embrace that Rachel willingly takes.
Rachel nuzzles into her shoulder as she wraps her arms around Quinn's waist. "I'm sorry," she mumbles into Quinn's cardigan. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't," Quinn murmurs. She doesn't say it's okay, because it's really not, but she doesn't want to hear any more apologies.
She's sick of apologies.
Rachel just breathes her in and tries desperately to savour this moment, because she just knows that it's one of their last.
.
.
.
vii. i'm sorry i can't give enough. these scars, they only leave me numb.
.
With the end of April quickly approaching, Rachel can't seem to settle. Things are already different between her and Quinn, yes, but they're also not wildly different. Quinn still comes to her room in the mornings, and she still waits up every night.
They don't talk as much as they used to, but the touches are still there. Rachel finds a certain sense of comfort in them, but she also finds desperation. They're running out of time, and Rachel is powerless to stop it.
At the end of April, Quinn will be gone, and it'll be like none of this even happened.
That's the plan, anyway.
Quinn is convinced some time and space is what she needs, and Rachel is going to try to give it to her. She knows it's going to be difficult - Rachel doesn't like this kind of change - but she's willing to try, for Quinn's sake.
Anything for Quinn.
Everything for Quinn.
.
It's when the boxes start showing up that Rachel's resolve wavers. She's fighting her instincts to hold onto Quinn with every fibre of her being and her desire to give Quinn what she asked for. It's just that the boxes bring forth a reality that Rachel isn't ready for.
Life without Quinn.
Okay, that's a little melodramatic, but she has a feeling it's exactly what she's going to get if she lets Quinn move out. She'll start to see her less and less, and then they won't even talk on the phone anymore. And then they're going to be those people who text. And then just email. And then it'll be just birthday messages on Facebook.
God, she's going to have to find out Quinn is in a relationship from Facebook.
Suffice to say, Rachel's not handling anything about this situation well, at all.
As a result, she almost strangles Santana when the Latina brings up probably starting to look for another roommate. The way she says it, just so casually, as if she isn't even the least bit upset that their friend is moving out, just makes Rachel's blood boil, and she has to lock herself in her bedroom before she causes someone bodily harm.
This is getting dangerous.
It's been dangerous for a while.
.
"Are we throwing a farewell party?" Brittany asks the next night, and Rachel's jaw tenses.
Quinn stops chopping vegetables to look at her blonde friend. "That's really not necessary," she says, ever the diplomat, and Rachel wants to stab her with the knife she's holding.
Why is it that Quinn is able to do this to her?
"Easy with the lettuce there," Santana suddenly says, and Rachel snaps to attention.
"What?"
Santana points at her hands. "You're crushing the Romain," she says. "What did it ever do to you?"
Rachel looks down at her hands and, indeed, she's got her fists tightly clenched around poor, unsuspecting lettuce. She sighs, uncurling her hands. She shakes her head, ignores Quinn's curious look, and then pushes the bowl away and exits the kitchen.
She feels dismantled, disjoint, in disarray.
She's just a mess, and she doesn't know how to get her footing back. Where's the solid ground here? When does this particular carousel just stop?
Rachel goes to her bedroom, locks the door and throws herself face down on her bed. She just lies there, breathing.
This feeling will go away, she's sure.
She needs it to go away.
She needs something to give.
.
What must be an hour later, she hears a gentle knock on her door. She's tried to sleep but her mind is too active and her body is too restless. She already knows who's behind the door, but she answers anyway.
Quinn is standing there with a plate of food and an adorably sheepish expression on her face. "Permission to enter?"
Rachel can't help her smile, and she grabs the front of Quinn's shirt and drags her into the room. It helps that she willingly comes, a little grin on her face.
"I have a delivery, by the way," Quinn says, offering her the plate of food.
"Did you eat?"
Quinn nods, as they move towards Rachel's bed. They end up sitting side by side, their backs against her headboard and their legs spread out in front of them.
They're not touching, and that's okay.
It's probably for the best.
Quinn waits until Rachel's eaten exactly four bites before she speaks. "You're mad at me," she says, and it's a statement, not a question. "And that's okay. You can be mad at me, and I can be sorry about it, but we both know this is the best course of action."
Rachel glances at her. "What happens if absence makes the heart grow fonder?"
"Then I'm fucking screwed," Quinn attempts to joke, but her tone is anything but amused. "It's doubtful, though," she muses, almost to herself. "I don't know how much fonder I could get."
Rachel swallows thickly, her heart rate rising.
Quinn clears her throat. "Sorry," she says, and then cringes. God, she hates apologies. "Anyway, be mad, it's okay. Just know it's going to get better. It might take a while, but it's going to happen, and then everything will be great again."
"Do you really believe that?"
Quinn thinks it over. "Right now, I don't have much choice but to believe it," she says. "I have to believe that, one day, I'll stop feeling like this."
"Like what?"
"Like I can barely breathe," she says. "I - I just can't seem to catch my breath when you're around, and I need to get away before I end up suffocating." She frowns. "That sounds awful, doesn't it? Like you're going to end up killing me if I stay?" She hums in thought, and it's as if Rachel isn't even sitting there. "Horrible, yes, but accurate."
Rachel's appetite dies with the sound of those words.
"I think about it in terms of the Universe, sometimes," Quinn says, and she's not even looking at Rachel. "Like, this is all some kind of cosmic slap in the face, you know? The girl who once had it all doomed to suffer an unrequited love for the girl whose life she made a living hell in high school."
"Quinn."
"For what it's worth, Rachel," she says sadly; "I truly am sorry." She licks her lips. "I know you said not to apologise for love, but I can't help feeling as if I just ruined everything. I was doing well, you know, hiding it, and then I turned twenty-three, and, God, I've been hiding for so fucking long." She rubs her hands along her thighs. "I'm just so tired, Rachel. Like, exhausted beyond anything I've ever experienced before, and I was under Sue Sylvester for far too long. So, yeah, I'm sorry it has to be like this. Be mad at me, it's okay. Just, one day, I hope you'll forgive me."
Rachel shifts closer. "There's nothing to forgive, Quinn," she whispers. "And, even if there was, I've probably already done it a thousand times over."
Quinn shakes her head, her eyes closing. "Sometimes, I really wish you were an awful bitch," she says, chuckling softly. "It would make my life so much easier."
Rachel can't stop herself from blushing. "Sorry," she says.
"Hey," Quinn says, frowning at her. "If I don't have to apologise, then neither do you," she declares. "It's definitely not your fault you're so…" she trails off.
"Amazing?" Rachel offers, smiling winningly.
Quinn chuckles. "Something like that, yeah."
Rachel sighs, fiddling with her fork as she pushes her food around. "Will you make me soup before you leave?" she asks, almost whispering.
Quinn smiles at her. "Already done," she says. "I made a huge pot this morning, let it cool, sectioned it out and froze it. So, if you're craving some and I haven't managed to make a fresh batch in a while, you'll have some."
Rachel just watches her face for the longest time, seeing the ease with which she smiles but all the pain swirling behind her beautiful hazel eyes. Rachel doesn't think she's actually seen Quinn without something haunting her.
Right now, Rachel is the only one who can take it all away, and she has the sudden - dangerous, so very dangerous - urge to reach across and just kiss the pain away.
Rachel gasps at that, and Quinn looks at her.
"Are you choking?" the blonde asks, and Rachel actually has to laugh at that. Quinn's eyebrows rise. "Well, if you're not, you're bound to if you keep laughing like some kind of she-demon."
I want to kiss you.
Rachel shakes her head at the thought.
This isn't happening.
None of this is happening.
Quinn steals a cube of cucumber from Rachel's plate and pops it in her mouth, and Rachel knows this is the end. It's the end of something, and her head is swimming with I want to kiss you and we can't and this is too dangerous.
Rachel subtly shifts away, and sets the plate on her night stand. Quinn is too close to her. She smells too intoxicating and her presence is starting to overwhelm Rachel. God, is this what Quinn goes through on a daily basis? No wonder she can't get away fast enough.
It takes Rachel a few minutes but she's able to gather enough control to spend a - deceptively difficult - hour with Quinn until the blonde yawns. And then Rachel yawns.
They share a laugh, and Rachel refuses to believe it's one of their last.
It's going to get better.
It has to.
When Quinn stands to leave, Rachel gets up as well. She's not sure why, but she just wants to drag this out. She doesn't want her to go, but she knows she has to. They've spent far too much time alone, together, and her good sense is almost shot completely.
"Everything is going to be okay, right?" Rachel asks, because she needs to hear it from Quinn.
Quinn smiles softly. "Isn't that what you promised?"
"I'm trusting myself less and less these days," she murmurs, her eyes never straying from Quinn.
Quinn presses her lips together, trying to ignore the sudden shift in the air between them. "Rachel?" It's whispered, barely there.
Rachel steps forward, her eyes seeking Quinn's. She doesn't have to look far, because she's right there, and Rachel feels her heart leap into her throat.
She's right here.
"Yes, Quinn?" she murmurs, just knowing there's purpose to this moment. Quinn is so ridiculously beautiful right now, and Rachel knows they're about to cross some line.
She's going to cross it, because she wants it.
She wants Quinn.
They're standing so close together, just mere breaths away.
"Quinn," she breathes, her heart racing. Quinn is right in front of her, all cinnamon and apples and pouty lips and perfectly-coiffed hair.
Oh, God, she wants.
"Quinn," she says on an exhale. "Please?"
"Please what?" Quinn whispers.
"Kiss me."
And Quinn sucks in a sharp breath, her eyes immediately flicking down to Rachel's parted lips. "Rachel," she says quietly, and she sounds like she's in pain; like she begging for something.
"Please."
And Quinn can no longer deny her request. She leans forward, getting closer, and Rachel forces herself to keep her eyes open until she feels them.
Quinn's lips.
Feather light, barely there, and her heart aches at how soft they are.
Everything is just soft.
Even when Quinn adds pressure, Rachel is amazed by how gentle she is. Her own eyes flutter closed, and her mouth parts, inviting more.
Quinn's kiss is unhurried, soft and gentle, and it's breaking apart everything hard about Rachel. The brunette's fingers clutch at Quinn's shirt, and she wants more. She wants everything, and she doesn't understand how Quinn could have possibly stayed in such control for so long.
Quinn's fingers lace through her hair, and Rachel sighs into her warm mouth, letting out a small whimper. Which is the very sound to bring them back to their senses because, a beat later, it's gone.
Quinn's exploring fingers.
Her sweet lips.
Everything.
Just, gone.
Rachel's eyes open slowly, disoriented. Her mouth threatens a smile, but the sight of Quinn's hard eyes, clenched jaw and tight fists stops her.
"Quinn," she breathes.
"Don't," Quinn clips. "Don't you dare say anything."
Rachel's mouth slams shut.
"You don't get to ask me to kiss you," she seethes. "You don't just get to do that. God, Rachel. Don't you know how hard it already is without you just dangling temptation in front of me? Fuck. Is this fun for you? Are you enjoying being able to torture me, like some kind of payback for high school?"
And… Rachel's mouth drops open.
"Because it's working," Quinn says, and she sounds so broken and defeated. "You told me you love me, before. And I asked if you meant it. Has that changed?"
"No," Rachel immediately says.
Quinn nods once. "Then, please, Rachel, just leave me the fuck alone."
Rachel is crying but, miraculously, Quinn isn't.
"Just let me be," Quinn says. "I don't want to see you, and I don't want to hear from you." She shakes her head. "You have the power to destroy me, and I'm too in love with you to deny you. So, please, don't ask me for anything ever again." Her gaze meets Rachel's. "Please stop being selfish. You're supposed to be the good person between the two of us, remember."
And then she turns and exits the bedroom, disappearing into the night.
Everything is just wrong, and Rachel knows she lied to herself.
She lied to them both.
Everything is not going to be okay.
.
In the morning, Quinn is gone.
There's a note on the fridge that says something, but Rachel can't make out any of Quinn's perfect handwriting through her tears.
Santana finds her on the floor in the kitchen, her back against a low cabinet, and her knees clutched to her chest. She's rocking herself, lost in her thoughts, and Santana's worry piques at the sight of her. As quietly as she can, she moves to sit beside her, suddenly wary. She's not good at this kind of thing, so she just sits there until Rachel decides to speak.
It takes exactly eleven minutes.
"Quinn's gone," she says, her voice cracking. "She's gone, Santana, and I don't think she's ever coming back."
Santana frowns. "She's just moving to - "
"No," Rachel interrupts, shaking her head. "You don't understand. Quinn is gone. She's gone, and I - " her voice catches. "I - I - oh, God."
Santana's entirely aware that she's missing something but, between medical school and her girlfriend, that could be anything.
Rachel scrubs her face with her hands, and then sighs. "Remember I told you I had nightmares about Quinn?" she says softly, keeping her gaze directed at her own hands.
Santana nods. "I remember."
"Well, they weren't all nightmares," she confesses. "Some of them were dreams. Good ones." She relaxes slightly. "I dreamt of Quinn floating about a kitchen that felt like ours, and she was glowing and happy and alive. Another time, I dreamt of us huddled together watching Christmas movies late at night, with her arm around my shoulders and our legs tangled." She smiles softly, lost in the image. "I once dreamt of us strolling through Central Park with our hands clasped. And - and another time, we were lying in bed, all tangled limbs, messy hair and bright eyes. We were happy.
"And, in those dreams, Quinn always told me she loved me, in that quiet, reverent way she does, that tells you she means every single word she's saying. And I always said it right back."
When Rachel looks at Santana, the Latina is caught off guard by the depth of loss and sorrow in her brown eyes.
"But this is real life," Rachel says, clutching Quinn's note to her chest. "Those are just dreams, and this is is real life, Santana. This is real life and, when she said the words, I didn't say them back. I couldn't."
Santana's jaw drops down in surprise.
Rachel closes her eyes and leans her head back. In her mind she sees her future. And, sure, she's always been convinced that she sees her future when she looks at Jesse, but it's only just occurred to her now that that - any, really - future never exists without Quinn.
She's always right there.
And, suddenly, Rachel knows exactly what she has to do.