Her phone startled her out of her trance, daydreaming mindlessly as the train of thoughts drifted in and out for endless hours on her hands.

It had been days ever since the eventful day, where she had stumbled into The Atrium with her boyfriend in tow and the same phone had rang in resemblance of the occurrence in her pockets, breaking her reverie. Not only had her parents decided to 'surprise' her with a visit, she had fibbed and concocted a seemingly perfect boyfriend who materialized out of nowhere.

To fuel the charade and her courage mustered, Quinn had similarly marched up to the most wholesome guy her eyes could land on – Sam Evans, irises specked with wonder and gorgeous flaxen mane caressing his defined cheekbones – and what did she know? She had a pretend-boyfriend for the next twenty-four hours.

He had came over for lunch and without inveigling, she had told him something not even Puck knew – and they had been dating for weeks now, for crying out loud – and not to mention, her mother's surreptitious attempt at bringing her sister up had emotions gushing out of the mask she had carefully hidden beneath all these years, crumbling.

But despite the hiccup, they had managed to breeze through the rest, and at the end of the day, Quinn found herself reluctant to send him off.

It was a peculiar sensation to discern the unfamiliar surge of swelling within her, allowing her eyebrows to knit together tighly as she grappled with herself, pushing away the emotions to grace a smile when his figure disappeared down the stairs.

They had no reason to see each other again, given how the sham was indisputably over days prior.

Shaking her head clear, she pulled the device out and it only stemmed a deeper frown, though she still picked the call up – against her better judgement.

"Quinn!"

Judy's exultant vocals greeted her and suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, a jaded smile was plastered on her visage even if the older blonde couldn't see it.

"What is it?"

"Oh, I just wanted to call to check in on you. We haven't been back home for long, yet we miss you terribly."

Hazel eyes narrowing suspiciously with the phone pressed against her earlobe, the other free hand folding against pectorals as her head tilted sideways. Why does this sound eerily parallel to the same call that disrupted the peaceful flow of Quinn's life?

She didn't, however, voice her thoughts and instead, gave an insouciant hum in response.

Failing to wheedle the reaction she had wanted, her mother cleared her throat and continued.

"Anyway. Your father and I have been talking and we just wanted to tell you again how much we adore Sam."

This time, she failed to rein it in and snorted lowly, rolling those eyes of hers she had desperately wanted to since picking the call up.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure you have made it abundantly clear about that fact.

Ignoring her again, Judy persisted in the one-sided conversation. "You know how worried we were pertaining to you, Quinn. Your father and I had a lot of difficulty struggling with the repercussions of you dropping out of college on our own with you moving away from us."

A lot was probably an understatement. Might as well just admit that you thought I was mentally unstable back then.

"But we came around. It was hard, but we did."

After years of cold shoulder and barbs dished whenever you called or made a 'friendly' visit, sure.

"We have been supporting you and paying your rent as you spend time to pursue that little music thing of yours."

God, can she bury herself in a hole and never come out again? Because she might just break out in hives if Judy rendered her lifelong dream as such again.

"It's just been so long, Quinn. We thought it was finally time to grow up and move on."

Oh, gosh. What? They had a gig that night and it was big. She can't be serious now, can she?

It wasn't as though their family were of humble upbringing. As a matter of fact, the Fabrays had been one of the most reputable households back in Connecticut and with a high paying job in the office, they were of a wealthy ménage among the rest. They gave Quinn around five hundred bucks a month to financially support her career choice since high school, to help pay students loans back when she attended Yale for one and a half miserable years they had obstinately insisted upon.

Five hundred dollars to the Fabrays was nothing, but to Quinn, it made the difference between doing what she loved and dreaming about doing what she loves.

"What does that mean? You're going to stop helping me?"

Judy exhaled a phlegmatic breath, clearly angling for something and with her daughter sucking in a harsh breath of sheer incredulity, it would seem that the older blonde woman had attained what she had sought after.

Quinn, on the other hand, was too distressed to discern her mother's stratagem as her mind went into overdrive.

This would definitely impede her, which meant that she would need to put in double shifts to cover her expenditure and in turn, cost her more time and lack of it to spend on singing or doing any of her writing.

"This had been the reason for our visit, to discuss the matter with you. But then, we met Sam."

The girl merely cocked her head, halting her rambling mind. "What has Sam got to do with any of these?"

"Well, you're obviously getting your life together. You're dating a nice, respectable boy and finally taking things seriously. Your father and I are comforted to find how you have left the negative influences in the past behind and stop allowing them to derail you. In fact, we have been so moved by your effort that we decided to give you a few more months."

Quinn blinked owlishly to register the details, only to stutter as she echoed. "A few months?"

"Considering that we have agreed to play things by ear, yes. But as long as you keep treating yourself and your life with utmost solemnity, I don't see why you should worry about it."

In simpler terms, her mother had essentially issued an ultimatum for her to date Sam. Indefinitely.

Was it bad if she wanted to shriek? At herself, at her mother, at her father, at Puck, at Sam, and most importantly, herself.

For being too much of a wimp to confess everything, to blurt out exactly how she felt about her stifling circumstances now imposed upon her, to scream at her mother for laying these conditions on her, as if she was acutely aware of what Quinn was planning.

She should tell Judy how she was full of shit, for she had been taking her life seriously, for goodness' sake.

Leaving college had been one of her best decisions ever made in the entirety of her life; just because her parents wouldn't accept the fact she wasn't taking the usual route, or doing things that made no sense to them didn't mean she was naive or ignorant.

It merely insinuated how she didn't want to be confined within four walls as a mindless drone of an office worker, only daydreaming about what life could have been – if only things had been different, if only a different road was embarked on.

It meant that Quinn was amenable to sacrifices with crazy shifts and taking on more jobs, if only it meant getting it all done.

It meant that she was brave and had the guts to defy.

But that courage got her only so far, for words failed her mouth and she never voiced them.

Instead, Judy prattled on about charity events and church and weddings and the like, which Quinn drowned out till the chattering proved too much and nausea was weaving itself into the pit of her stomach.

"Oh, I have to go. There's a gig afterwards and I need to prepare."

It didn't appear to dampen her mother's spirits, for she only sighed quietly and hummed.

"Alright, dear. It was nice to get together with you that day, even for a while. Tell Sam we said hello and that we'll see him at Christmas."

Gnawing onto her bottom lip before ichor could flood within her mouth, Quinn hesitated momentarily before exhaling. "I don't think he can make it."

The disgruntlement was evident, albeit gracefully concealed as admixture of bafflement and dubiety.

"Why not?"

"He has his own family to visit over the holidays, Mom. And it's not like it's cheap to fly out. Besides, he still has loans to pay."

"Nonsense. We can take care of it. He can stay with us for a couple of days and then go back home." Judy paused briefly and she could swear it was almost as if she could sense her mother squinting her eyes at her, causing her to gulp. "I won't take a 'no' for an answer, Quinn."

"We'll see. But I really have to go."

Quinn hung up without preamble and flung her phone elsewhere, landing somewhere near her discarded bag in the middle of their practice room. She had been awaiting the arrival of her band members when she dazed off, only for a call from reality in the form of her mother came screeching for her.

The device was downright taunting her, baiting with one call away to Sam. Or even if she had to resort to that, a text message.

Could he really be the solution to all of her problems? The salvation to her imminent doom? He could delay it, even. Wasn't that all life was about? Taking the good while possible, prolonging the bad when possible.

Sam was the epitome of good, so why couldn't he hinder it?

Except. . . . . . Quinn would have to degrade herself in doing so, asking him the forsaken question.

Till what extent was she willing to go for the monetary benefits assisted by her parents? Would she swallow her pride in order to feel good and allowing herself to be consumed in her hopes and dreams?

Could she sacrifice that to bend to her parents' wishes and return to pretending to be something she wasn't if it meant following her dream? It wasn't as if she had to be someone else – not even the phantom of Quinn Fabray of the past – but maybe for a little while, she could maintain a guise.

All for a measly sum of dollars a month. Was it worth it?

Before she could linger any further, the door burst open and laughter filled the atmosphere, which Quinn straightened and a smile curled on her lips, standing as she pushed away her thoughts to commence their practice.


Tucking in an ambrosial blossom behind her ear, Quinn's fingers danced deftly across her forehead where a thin sheen of perspiration clung to her skin, flaring with adrenaline soaring through her veins.

They had been booked for a night at Hunter's, where it was bustling with hordes of people swarming the venue, clamor filling the place. Bodies maneuvered against each other in frivolous movements and the lighting doused in spectrum of glistening glow, as the flow of music wafted through the air.

Nerves consumed her at a night where the engagement had her nonplussed, yet filled her with gratitude at the opportunity to play here, of all places. It seemed that their band had made quite the impression.

"Hey, are you alright?" Artie had slithered up beside her, a concerned hand resting on the small of her back as her friend reassured her with a brief touch.

Lips twitching to offer a smile, Quinn nodded and heaved a sigh, huffing a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

"I'm just. . . . tense. It's the Hunter's, after all. I don't want to screw up."

The drummer cackled amidst the noise rattling the bar, engulfing her in a calm semblance only her oldest friend could bring. "Don't sell yourself short, Quinn. We got to be something for them to invite us to play. Plus, you're awesome. Why the self-doubt?"

Shrugging, the singer's grin grew impossibly wider at the few words and emitted yet another sigh, eyes slipping closed for a while. "I don't know where you got your confidence about me, but I want a huge dose of it."

He laughed again, patting her on the back.

"Well, at least someone is being chill about it."

Prying her eyes open, she followed his gaze towards Puck – dexterous digits typing out a message with a smirk firmly planted on his visage, guffawing at what would be a lame joke sent by his friends.

They rolled their eyes simultaneously before chuckling quietly, edging towards the stage in preparation for their gig instead of dwelling on their guitarist's antics.

Finally, it was showtime.

Letting loose the cerise tendrils cascading past her neck and landing on her shoulders, where the ripped shirt unveiled toned abdomen hanging off her stature, painted nails reached and fiddled with the microphone upon the stage.

The crowd grew silent, not enough to draw complete command but sufficed to retain their attention.

It made her apprehension spiral out of control, but years of practice and training had a smile easily taking over her countenance as she introduced their band breathlessly, much to their audience's loud roars of approval.

Recovering her poise as the sanguine oozed from her being, Quinn scanned the crowd before glancing at Artie, starting their first song.

Their other member – Marissa, keyboard and backing vocals – proceeded behind him, synchronizing in perfect harmony. A flicker of excitement darted over from the drummer to Quinn, who swayed and retorted with a wink before a soft laugh elicited, inhaling as she slipped the guitar strap over her head.

"For all I know

The best is over and the worst is yet to come
Is it enough?
To keep on hoping when the rest have given up?
And they go

I hate to, say I told you so
But they love to, say they told me so
I hate to, say I told you so
They love to, say they told me."

As she submerged herself into the cover, the exhilaration pumping continuously alongside her bloodstream fanned her flames. She was on fire.

The nerves, the fear, the hope, the hurt, everything. Her soul was a galaxy all its own when she was on stage, belting.

"Say they, say they told me
Say they, say they told me
Well you say, you say, you told me

I know you like
When I admit that I was wrong and you were right
At least I try
To keep my cool when I'm thrown into a fire
And they go."

Quinn's eyes had fluttered shut by the time the rest joined in, rosette lips brushing against the tip of the microphone as her clutch drew it closer towards her. Her beckon of light.

She had attempted many endeavors to cloak the grief Frannie's death had brought upon their home, but never had anything soothe her as much as music did.

It was without doubt she could never give it up. Ever.

"I hate to, say I told you so
But they love to, say they told me so
I hate to, say I told you so
They love to, say they told me

Say they, say they told me
Say they, say they told me
Well you say, you say, you told me.

Throw me into the fire
Throw me in, pull me out again
Throw me into the fire
Throw me in, pull me out again
Throw me into the fire
Throw me in, pull me out again
Throw me into the fire
Throw me in, pull me out again."

If only she would convince Sam to continue their charade for as long as she could prolong the inevitable. To relish in melodies, to savor the crowd screaming, to dance elegantly to the sway of music.

Her train of thoughts pulled her out just as she repeated, this time eyes half-lidded to scrutinize everyone.

"Throw me into the fire

Throw me in, pull me out again
Throw me into the fire
Throw me in, pull me out again
Throw me into the fire
Throw me in, pull me out again
Throw me into the fire
Throw me in, pull me out again
Throw me into the fire
Throw me in, pull me out again."

Sam Evans.

Quinn's eyes bulged in recognition when the vision of the blond seemingly eventuated, blinking to see if her mind was playing a trick on her.

It would appear so, if he was mentally undressing her as he did back when they said their farewells at her apartment, tongue skating out over the curvature of his lips in reminiscent of that day.

A faint scarlet dusted her pale skin, turning her attention back to the microphone to continue singing.

"I hate to, say I told you so

But they love to, say they told me so
I hate to, say I told you so
They love to, say they told me

Say they, say they told me
Say they, say they told me
You say, you say, you told me."

She strummed the last few notes, humming slightly when the music faded out to the beat of drums and Marissa's velvety voice chanting behind her, but all Quinn could detect was the pair of eyes she had found earlier.

The temptation was hard to resist, sparing him a quick glance in hopes he was gone or no longer staring at her.

Which, turns out to be neither as his jaws tipped in a trance and met hers in the split second.

A shudder crept up her spine, grasp tightening around the microphone as her voice resonated across the bar.

She didn't know what to feel – demure at being checked out by a faux boyfriend whom she had introduced to her parents a few days ago, or a rising heat that hinted at what she hoped was anger at being ogled before her boyfriend, no less, and in front of so many people.

But Sam had a mind of his own, when the corners of his lips curved upwards and flashed the same repentant smile he did, and her heart leapt at the sight.