Title: Mad World
Chapter 4: I'll Stand By You – The Pretenders
Fandom: Glee
Genre: Romance/Humour
Status: WIP
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel
Rating: T, PG-13. Fluff. Angst.
Words: 5,098
Summary: All it takes is for the one who once slushied others to be herself slushied. After that, all's fair in love and war. And in high school, there's a lot of war.
Spoilers: Really, it's just my own story from this point on. The spoilers aren't even spoilers anymore.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, the songs, or even the characters. I only own my plot and my work. However, if you happen to come into the possession to the rights of Quinn Fabray, or Dianna Agron, I will gladly and gratefully buy them from you.
Note: Every chapter title will be a song title. The events of the chapter sometimes strongly relate to the song, sometimes not so much, but listening to the song might or might not help you understand the story. Explanations of why the song title is the title of the chapter will come at the ending of every chapter.
Quinn Fabray is a fantastic driver, really, she is. She drives, perhaps, like a lunatic, but they don't crash. There were a lot of near misses, though. As in, four near collisions and 5 close scrapes against walls. Hard, strong, brick walls. It was a miracle no one called the cops on them, but Quinn stuck to roads where she knew the cops didn't bother with. That shows skill, but no one, not even her ex-boyfriends, and definitely not her mother, really seem to appreciate it.
Essentially though, they were alive and well, though perhaps Rachel Berry had dropped a few pounds in Quinn's estimation of brawns, and perhaps her own eardrums were worn a little thin, but that was what happened when you tried to freak a soprano singer out by driving like someone who left a frozen pizza in the microwave. What happened was a lot of screaming. Imagine a normal person screaming at a tarantula on their foot, and then imagine that scream up an octave. Now, take that scream, multiply it by about 6, and then compress it into the small body of Rachel Berry. Yeah, Quinn Fabray's eardrums were completely blown. Absolutely worth it, though, Quinn told herself.
Eventually, when she has parked the car outside the apartment, with some coaxing, Quinn manages to convince a traumatised Rachel Berry to put her hands down from her face and open the car door. As soon as she does, Rachel practically collapses on the ground and all but has sex with it. Quinn hears something that vaguely resembles, "I love you, I love you, I love you, I swear on my Idina Menzel autographed CD that I will never let Quinn drive me again, I love you, I love you, I swear..."
Quinn rolls her eyes and pulled the brunette up by a hand. "Please don't be a drama queen, Berry. As much as it suits you, it's kind of annoying. Hey, we're still alive, aren't we? Plus, it's my car, so you probably don't want to swear on what I suspect is your most prized possession."
Rachel scowls and follows Quinn into the elevator. When the door is closed and Quinn has pressed the number '11', Rachel starts in on one of her famous rants. There's something about road safety rules being there for a reason, something about calling her by her first name, and something about trying to give people a heart attack. There was also a fairly lengthy bit about how even a cat would have would have lost all nine lives and died by the time she finished driving. It's all quite ridiculous, honestly.
Basically ignoring the ranting Rachel, Quinn walks out of the elevator and down the hallway, quickly coming to a door marked '118'. Rachel Berry is still on her heels, still talking. Quinn suddenly regretted taking her with her. Definitely not one of her better ideas. Still, she was here now, so it was time to reveal the glory of her cousin and her cousin-in-law's apartment. Hopefully, and almost surely, even Rachel Berry would shut up after seeing it.
But, no, she squeals. The bloody short thing squeals right into Quinn's ear before leaping into the apartment. Goddamnit. Quinn sighs and gives up the inevitable. She just closes and locks the door before following Rachel into the apartment. It was rather something to squeal about, admittedly. A modern, very spacious apartment cleared of most decorative items, with neutral colour tones on the walls. There was a small, basic kitchen off the main room, a flat screen and a DVD played in the corner of the living room, but that wasn't the impressive thing about the apartment.
Acoustic, electric and bass guitars line the walls. Fender's and Les Paul's in blacks, whites, reds, gold's... It's kind of insane. To the side are two keyboard pianos, one foldable, one on a stand, both Yamaha. A few mikes litter the place, as well as hazardously placed swivel chairs. An amp or two were against the wall, out of harms' way.
Rachel stands in the middle of the room and just kept turning around. She mutters the names of the guitar brands out and then she reaches a hand out almost longingly, then snatches it back and turns around and around some more. After some time, her glazed eyes clear and she goes over to a low coffee table scattered with sheet music. She raises her eyebrows at a few that bore Phoebe and Amanda's names as composers.
Quinn leans against the wall and watches Rachel basically act like she was in heaven. It was vaguely amusing to watch, and besides, she didn't dare to go closer. Eventually though, she calms down enough to wave Quinn over. Cautiously, she walks over to Rachel, because her eardrums really were kind of sore. Luckily, the other girl was fairly stable. Unluckily, as soon as Quinn is near enough, she frantically waves a bunch of sheet music in front of her face, talking so fast that nobody could possibly have understood her without a translator. Quinn abruptly grabs Rachel by her shoulders, which was no mean feat, because the girl was suddenly bouncing on the spot.
"Berry. Stop moving before I kill you." Rachel stops moving.
"Okay, what do you want?" Quinn sighs.
"Here! Look! It's their original music! Why have you not mentioned that they're in a band? And why did you not mention that they're the composers and lyricists? Quinn! This is huge!" And then Rachel is pointing forcefully at Phoebe and Amanda's names.
Quinn looks taken-aback, then annoyed. "Why have I not mentioned this? Because before today, I have no reason to. Because you just met them less than an hour ago. Because we were coming here. Because they're not huge. They're just a small band that occasionally plays at bars and stuff."
"Quinn!' Rachel almost yelled, "A small band that occasionally plays at bars and stuff can't possibly afford this many Les Paul's, especially since they own a diner! Seriously, Quinn. Why haven't I heard of them before? I can't believe I had a band living 20 minutes away and I had no idea! This is impossible!" Oh, great, another rant, Quinn thinks. She hurriedly cuts the girl off. How much could a girl possibly rant in such a short amount of time anyway? It was like, a scientific miracle.
"Okay, okay. Shut up and listen, alright? First, you have to stop going on sudden, random, annoying rants. They're annoying. Second, so, okay, fine, they're not a tiny band, but they're not international or anything like that. They're on iTunes and YouTube and MySpace and crap, so they get a little bit of recognition. But it's just a hobby of theirs that happened to be beneficial in the form of monetary compensation. That's what Amanda said, anyway." Quinn pauses for breath, and saw Rachel about to launch into... something else, again. She holds a finger up.
"If you don't let me finish, I'm not bringing you here ever again." It's not really a lie, except for the fact that she doubted she would bring Rachel there ever again anyway, but it shuts her up. "And they're mostly known in the, uh, LGBT community. I don't know if you spend a lot of time doing that stuff, but otherwise you wouldn't really have heard about them. It's not like they advertise their sexuality all over the place. This is Lima, Ohio." Quinn racks her brain for anything else that matters, but doesn't come up with anything. "Questions?"
"Yes, actually. Why are there so many guitars? I understand maybe one or two of each type of guitar, but what's with the obsession? There are enough here to open a small shop. As you can probably tell, I'm insanely jealous. I've wanted a Les Paul since I was 8 months old, but my dads said I couldn't have one unless I actually learned to play it. They couldn't understand the reasoning behind not wanting calloused fingers yet still wanting a guitar to fawn over," Rachel says, nodding to herself, "so in the end, I didn't get a guitar. I did get ballet lessons, though."
Quinn nods her head every time Rachel stops to breathe, which means she only needs to nod once and listen never. She walks over to the wall of guitars and gently picks up a white Les Paul bass guitar. "The obsession is Phoebe's. She buys guitars the way people buy handbags. This one is her favourite, because it's got some gay singer's signature on it. She's let me play it a grand total of once. After that, she spent half an hour cleaning it. Amanda lets her get away with the guitar craze because she doesn't obsess over anything else. Excluding herself, of course." Quinn put the guitar back, being careful not to hit it against the wall or anything.
"You play?" Rachel asks, baffled. "No way. The great cheerleader, the uber-straight girl plays bass guitar?"
"You don't have to be gay to play bass, and you don't have to be straight to be a cheerleader. Case in point, San and Britt. You'd think the Cheerios were completely oblivious, but they're not. Locker room drama, see. You'd think the Cheerios might care, but they don't. They just think the two of them are a little bit more than friends, but nothing to worry about. Point is, yes, Berry, I play bass guitar. Get over it." With that, Quinn picks up a worn, black Fender bass and plugs it into an amplifier.
Rachel watches in fascination and anticipation as Quinn slings the strap of the guitar over her shoulder and plays a few random chords. She perks up when Quinn played the familiar intro to one of her favourite songs. She comes in right on cue and doesn't miss Quinn's faint smirk. However, Quinn doesn't stop playing, and that's enough for her.
The smell of your skin lingers
On me now
You're probably on your flight back
To your hometown
I need some shelter
My own protection, baby
Be with myself in centre
Clarity, peace, serenity
She watches Quinn's fingers gracefully move over the strings, seemingly not touching them yet managing to produce a good sound. She doesn't miss the slight sheen forming in Quinn's eyes as she sings the first verse, even though the blonde turned to face out the balcony. She can't help but admire how Quinn manages to keep her emotions under control and keep playing the guitar, though she does miss a note there...
I've got to get a move on with my life
It's time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry...
The path that I'm walking
I must go alone (i)
She doesn't miss how Quinn's shoulders hunch over and how she stops playing suddenly. Rachel stops singing, letting her voice drag out the final note before allowing silence to take over the room. She desperately wants to go over to Quinn and hold her trembling shoulders, but her nerve leaves her and she just stars down at the tabletop, unusually shy. After a few minutes, Rachel softly calls out, "Quinn?"
Visibly startled, Quinn whirls around. Her eyes are red, but otherwise she looks as composed as she usually does. For a while, they stare at each other, neither quite knowing what to do. In the back of her mind, Rachel can't help but notice how the light shining in from the balcony onto a hoodie-and-skinny-jeans-wearing Quinn Fabray holding a black bass guitar made the blonde look kind of like a punked up angel. It was the hair and the pale skin. For all that time the blonde spent in the sun, she never seemed to tan. It was a mystery.
Quinn breaks the silence by saying impassively, "Yes, Berry, I play the bass guitar. Phoebe taught me but I haven't played in a while though. That was the only song I could remember. Happy?"
Rachel half nods and half shrugs. If Quinn wanted to pretend nothing happened, fine. She played along. "You're actually quite good. And you... seem to enjoy it?" she ventures.
Quinn just calmly unplugs the guitar and puts it back where it was before saying emotionlessly, "I used to play a lot, until Phoebe got thrown out. Then they confiscated my bass, said Phoebe was a bad influence. After that, my parents started me on the piano, and then chucked that when I got into the Cheerios. Not that any of that matters, Berry," Quinn sits on the couch and stares out the glass doors of the balcony. She watches the clouds move slowly across the clear sky.
"Quinn, please call me Rachel. It's just weird that I'm calling you by your given name and you're calling me by my family name. And it's also a little bit rude, because I've already told you twice. This is the third time, and if you refuse to honour my wishes after this time, I will no longer be responsible for my actions."
It was meant as a joke, but Quinn scowls slightly and mutters, "I'll call you whatever I damn well want... Rachel."
Pleased, Rachel beams and jumps out of her chair. "Thank you!" Quinn doesn't reply, but Rachel can see a twitch on her cheek. It's close enough to a smile for her. She stands there awkwardly for a moment, then determinedly marches over to Quinn and sits down next to her. They sit there in silence, but it's not as uncomfortable as it could have been.
However, Rachel is soon bored of the silence, and can't help her sudden lack of filter. She blurts out, "I find girls who play the bass guitar really sexy," then she clamps her mouth shut and slams her hands over it.
Quinn feels mildly embarrassed and strangely gratified, but mostly she feels nostalgic. She fondly says, "Yeah, that's what Amanda thought too. She said before she met Phoebe, she'd always admired chicks who played bass. Her words, not mine. Then she got to know Phoebe and realized that while they looked cool standing in half-light near the back of the stage, off stage they were just as lame as everyone else. That got her into a tickle war with Pheebs. The two of them are so embarrassing to be around."
Rachel smiles, because she can imagine that. Most first impressions couldn't be trusted, but she was pretty sure that her first impression of Phoebe and Amanda was spot on. They were cute together, and they seemed to really be in love. Rachel was envious of their relationship. She just couldn't imagine herself and Finn telling other people their 'cute' couple stories. The only thing she'd be able to say would be how Finn thought he got a girl pregnant without ever having sex with her. She doubted bringing that up would be a good idea. And the only thing Finn would be able to say about her that even vaguely resembled cute would be Rachel Berry in a cat suit. Now that would be embarrassing. Rachel is thankful that her filter has returned and she hasn't said any of this out loud. Or has she? Quinn is looking at her in a really weird way. Oh no, she said it out loud, didn't she?
"Said what out loud?" Quinn furrows her eyebrows. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you, but you've been quiet for almost two minutes, and that kind of freaks me out."
Rachel sighed in relief. "Nothing. Just thinking about...stuff."
Quinn arches an eyebrow, but doesn't comment. They go back to glancing around the room and fidgeting in their seats. Rachel honestly can't help herself any longer. "Quinn?" The blonde turns to look at her. There is a resigned look in her eyes that say she knew what Rachel was going to ask and she didn't like it. Rachel tugs at the hem of her skirt and changes her mind. There was something else that needed to be said.
"Listen, I understand we haven't exactly had what people would call a friendly relationship since forever," Quinn doesn't say anything, because it is true. "But, right now, what you need are friends. You might have Brittany and Santana, but you know that they are their own couple, and quite frankly, you'll be the third wheel that won't enjoy watching them make out. You might have glee club, but Finn and Puck will be there, and I think a lot of them don't consider you the victim but the guilty. It will be very awkward. You're pregnant and emotional and somewhere inside you, you know that everything is going to blow up soon enough. Have you even told your parents yet?"
Quinn's stony silence is enough for Rachel. "I'm not trying to push you or anything. Your private life is your own, but, as I said, what you are going to need are friends. And what I'm trying to say in this long never-ending speech of mine is that I would like to be your friend. When I say friend, I mean the kind you can talk to in the hallways, the kind who can help you out without feeling like something doesn't make sense. I'm perfectly prepared to listen and hold you if you ever burst into emotional tears or hysterical anger. I will stand by you and I won't let Karofsky or Finn or anyone hurt you (ii), because I know what it's like to drip Slushie onto the hallway floor in front of 15 pairs of laughing eyes." Rachel takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the flush in her cheeks and the tears in her eyes. Quietly, she adds, "And maybe, if you want to, you could do the same for me."
With that, her tears spill over. Her compact body shudders violently on the couch. She pulls her legs up and hug them tightly against her chest. Somewhere inside her mind, she scolds herself for being weak and for losing control of her emotions, but a bigger part of her was saying she damn well deserved a break to cry. The friendship she was offering to Quinn Fabray worked both ways. She wanted someone's shoulder to lean on when people threw taunts and insults at her. She wanted someone to be able to talk to, to share experiences with. Rachel Berry wanted a friend. Was that so bad?
No, it wasn't. She was a good singer, a good actress, and one day she would be famous. No matter what, she would be famous. But what use would fame be, if everyone she knew would shun her for her talent? What use would fame be, if she was going to be treated the exact same way the people in McKinley High treated her: like a piece of annoying gum stuck to their shoe.
So she sobbed, because years of unrelenting bullying tended to hurt. Years of suppressing everything and pretending that everything was fine hurt. Years of not having a real friend? Yeah, that hurt like a bitch. So she sobbed. It was messy and embarrassing, and her voice in glee later would sound nasal and blocked, but the one good thing her sobbing brought to her?
Quinn Fabray is holding her. True, her touch is hesitant and unsure, but she is holding her. Unfortunately, the warm arm around her back and the soft touch of a tissue on her face just makes her cry even harder. Eventually, Quinn gives up trying to dry Rachel's tears and just holds her. She leans the girl back against herself and just hugs her from behind as the other girl's ragged breathing slowly calmed down.
When Rachel finally stopped crying, she pulls away from Quinn. She doesn't particularly want to, because Quinn's half-embrace is very comfortable and more than a little comforting, but she has tear-streaks and snot all over her face, and she still has her pride, so she pulls away.
Quinn lets her go and watches as Rachel carefully wipes her face clean with some baby wipes on the low coffee table. She is suddenly grateful that Amanda has these issues with using 'stupid, boring tissue paper'. She watches as the brunette takes a long, shuddering breath. She watches as her posture tenses and she sits up ramrod straight, leaning slightly away from the back of the couch. She watches as Rachel closes her eyes, (her red, puffy eyes), and when she opens them, they are clear of emotion.
"Okay," Quinn says softly. "I'll be your friend."
She quickly regrets it, because this just makes the brunette break down all over again.
After Rachel finally, finally, calms down, she sets some ground rules. Typical. Her rules are no more Slushies and no more insults. Also, no more lies. If it turned out that the baby was actually Mike's, she would "slaughter" her new friend. She suggested that Quinn no longer call her Berry, but that got them into a long argument, a lot of huffing from Rachel and a lot of eye-rolling from Quinn, so it got thrown out.
Quinn makes Rachel swear to no more squealing, no more Vitamin D and no more unnecessary diva fits, unless Mr. Schuester tried to get them to sing a disco song. They agree that all these rules will probably get thrown out, because they aren't all that great at following the rules, and if Rachel followed her rules, she wouldn't be Rachel. Still, it kills time, and neither quite know what to do if they just sit there in empty silence.
Slowly, they warm up to talking about things other than school and glee. They turn on the TV and see Justin Bieber trying to get with a girl that looks 5 years older than himself. Rachel admits to thinking he's an ironically cute girl. Quinn smacks her around the head and Rachel agrees that she deserved it. But then Quinn sings along to Britney Spears' 'If U Seek Amy' without getting the not-so-subtle "Fuck me" reference and Rachel laughs till she cries, then she tells Quinn, who pales and get a mildly horrified look on her face, which makes Rachel howl.
They watch Lady Gaga's 'Telephone' video and both agree that Lady Gaga is a genius, even if she is a little bit crazy. Quinn gets tickled when she swoons over Edward Cullen, but she returns the favour when Rachel practically salivates over Olivia Wilde. They discover a mutual love of 'Alias', and agree that after a few seasons, no TV series made sense anyway.
They realize that books are a good topic, because although Rachel reads a stupidly large amount of Broadway stars' biographies, she reads a lot of 'normal' books too. Quinn wholeheartedly agrees with Rachel over Pride and Prejudice's insane level of mundanity, and they get into an argument over which Twilight book is the worst. Quinn points out that Rachel is kind of like Hermione Granger, and rolls her eyes when Rachel mutters, "Hermione Granger is hot." The non-sequiturs don't disrupt their conversation, and in fact make conversation a lot more interesting.
But when they notice that it is almost time to go back for glee club, they grow silent. Rachel starts to fidget in her seat and Quinn just kind of hovers at the kitchen table. "So," she says quietly.
"So."
"Shall we?"
"Yeah. I guess so."
They walk into school together, but with a gap between them, because the people who haven't left look at them weirdly. But the people don't say anything, because Quinn's outburst went viral and not even the retards haven't seen it. They don't want to be next. Karofsky snarls at her, but keeps his distance. Jacob Ben Israel just walks past her, shirt smelling of Slushie and face red. He has a story to work on.
It's all quite tame, really, compared to what will come. Quinn gets tenser as she nears the door of glee's practice room. Rachel almost crashes into her when she stops suddenly in front of the door. She slowly reaches a hand out and opens it dramatically. Might as well get it over with. Plus, Rachel's Rachelisms must have been rubbing off on her. Opening doors dramatically? Please.
Still, they were early, and there are only a few glee clubbers in there. Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and Artie were huddled together in the front row, excitedly discussing something. Quinn suspects herself as the topic of interest. Brittany and Santana are sitting behind them, listening, but pretending to be bored. Matt and Mike and throwing a football at each other in the small room, trying not to break anything. Finn and Puck are nowhere to be seen.
Quinn walks in quietly and unnoticed, despite the dramatic door opening. No one bothered to look, because they assumed it was Rachel. She slips past Mike, who gives her a thumbs up before getting hit in the head by the football. She weakly returns the gesture. Quinn slips into a seat behind Santana, who smirks at her. Brittany smiles and says a loud, "Hi, Quinn!" This makes the foursome (It's easier for Quinn to refer to them that way. Saying Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and Artie all the time made for a quite a mouthful) turn to her so fast she hears the crick of Tina's neck.
They blush and shut up, which proves Quinn's theory that they were talking about her. How predictable. They gape when Rachel slips into the seat beside Quinn with only half a second's hesitation. Santana half scowls at Quinn in annoyance, but she doesn't pull it off as well as she used to, because Brittany liked Rachel, and Santana liked what Brittany liked. Even if she never would have admitted it.
"Hi Brittany. Santana. Foursome," Quinn smirks, because, really, if they could have seen the fearful expression on their faces...
Artie looks perturbed until he realized that 'foursome' referred to the 'four' of them. For a second, his teenage mind had gone... Never mind.
Tina nervously stutters something that sounds like, "Hi, Quinn," or maybe she was just practising her breathing exercises. There wasn't much difference.
Kurt and Mercedes, on the other hand, say "You go, girl!" at the exact same time. Quinn gives them a bemused smile. "You busting Karofsky's ass is all over the net, girl! You've already got over a thousand views. You're a celebrity. You know none of us got Slushied today?" Mercedes gestures vaguely at the three of them and herself while the rest nod.
Quinn just shrugs. Mercedes probably would have gone on, but Finn and Puck walk in right then, Mr. Schuester trailing behind them. That alone wouldn't have made everyone stop and stare at them, but the fact that Finn and Puck are punching each other in the shoulder and trying not to wince did. They stopped when they realized everyone was staring at them. "What?" Puck snapped in irritation. Finn grabbed his shoulder while Puck's attention was diverted and massaged it gently.
Matt and Mike just shrugged and sat down, but Mercedes spoke up. As usual. "Well, we can't pretend that a couple hours ago the two of you didn't try to kill each other in Spanish, but hey, if Puckerman wants us to, no problem," she says sarcastically.
Puck glares at her, but Finn just shrugs and says, "We're guys. We try to kill each other all the time." Everybody just looks at him like he's crazy, except for Puck and Mr. Schuester, who is busy with his bag.
"Finn?" Quinn calls softly, "What... What just.." She doesn't even know what to say. Words fail her. Finn crosses the room and sit down beside her. He rubs his hands on his jeans and quietly says, "Look, I know it's weird, but, we're guys, Quinn. Sorry, but bros before hoes. I could either hate him for what he did, or thank him, because as bad as this sounds, I couldn't have been a good dad.' Finn looks a bit embarrassed, but he keeps speaking. "And I know that makes me sound like a loser, but I'm only 16. So is Puck, but I thought it over and I'm kind of glad it's not me anymore. And yeah, I'm still kinda pissed you lied to me, and I probably won't really talk to you after this, but I don't.. I don't think I hate you."
The last revelation shocks Quinn. "You don't?" is all she can say.
"No, I don't. I mean, I think I don't. I'm not happy, and I wish you would've told me from the beginning and saved me from going a little crazy, but at least I knew before the baby came out like, Jewish or something." Finn is aware he sounds a little stupid, even for him, but Quinn hugs him tightly, so he just hugs back. She whispers that she's sorry into his ear, and he nods. They break away, and then Mr. Schuester claps his hands once, getting the attention of the entire group, all of whom were staring at Quinn and Finn's interaction.
"Right, you guys! Since we're all here and we have all twelve members,' he says pointedly, and some scattered applause rings out, 'you can practice for Sectionals! Whoo!" Mr. Schuester is embarrassingly enthusiastic, but it breaks up the tension in the room. Rachel immediately steps up and suggests a new song they could sing while the foursome groan in harmony. Finn's eyes start to glaze over, and Puck starts tossing the football around with Matt and Mike. Brittany and Santana whisper conspiratorially to each other.
Quinn? She just leans back into her seat and allows herself a small smile. Really, it's just another day for the glee club. God, that sounded so... Rachel. Ugh. That was Quinn's last thought before she was interrupted by Mr. Schuester telling them to get up and practice 'Somebody to Love'. She smiled and got up.
Quinn Fabray didn't trip and fall very often, almost never. She was quick on her feet, a natural dancer, and just graceful in general. That was why she didn't notice Finn's carelessly pushed aside chair, or that her foot had gotten tangled around the chair leg without her noticing. She didn't notice how everyone gasped. All she noticed was how one second she was staring at the piano and smiling, and the next, she was flying through the air and staring at nothing.
Author's note
OOF. Sudden ending. Cliffy. And I love you guys, but I had to do that. You'll just have to trust me. The chapter didn't quite turn out how I wanted it to, but my Sports Day was yesterday and I'm sunburned and exhausted and I just can't think properly right now. However, I needed to update this and I'm just praying you guys like it too. I know it's a little abrupt.
As usual, I love all your reviews. Each and every single one of them. I don't have a beta, so if you spot any mistakes, lemme know! Reviews are like Broadway. One good one and you're hooked.
References
EDIT: (i) I forgot to put this in the first time, but just in case you didn't know, the song is Big Girl's Don't Cry by Fergie. It's pretty sad and every time I hear it I think of Quinn. It seemed to fit. And I would imagine that Quinn relates to that song and it probably brings up a lot of emotions. I would love them if they put it in. PS: I still don't know where Quinn is living.
(ii) I'll stand by you and I won't let anyone hurt you. Original sung by the Pretenders, and then Carrie Underwood sang it, and then Cory Monteith sang it. It refers to Rachel standing by Quinn and Quinn standing by Rachel. I'm aware it's kind of obvious. Bite me. Actually, no, don't. My skin is reserved for Quinn/Dianna/Rachel/Lea. As dumb as that sounds.