We're just two lost souls

Swimming in a fish bowl

Year after year.

Why did that speak volumes to Quinn? Almost as if it was speaking to her; like she was the only person in the world, who was meant to hear does words. Like Quinn was waiting her whole life just so, she could hear that song.

It brought her back, when Beth was gone. When no one was there, except Mercedes. She felt so numb, so life-less. If not having her little girl, nothing mattered.

Everything was dark for a while, her family let her in again. But for what? She was shown cold walls, that somehow supposed to be her childhood. The same child that died in that room, too many broken things, and yet nothing to pick up.

Empty promises, empty words. Empty people talking about their days.

So, she did what she does best. Get up, and fight. And she did.

Got into Yale. Nothing, and no one were going to stop her.

Puck, of course he came back and fucked it all up.

She started writing, she wrote and wrote. Until her fingerprints where no longer visible. Quinn wrote small sets, small sets became scenes; and well, scenes became plays. That's her outlet, writing everything and anything.

Writing her pain away.

After she stopped explaining to Santana on a Tuesday afternoon. She was hoping for Santana to walk away. She didn't, she listen. She hugged her.

"Wish you were here." Ironic, how that was the name of the song. And Santana just hugged her tighter, never letting go.

It was a windy day at Central Park, and their coats were bringing more warmth. The bench was cold as fuck, but they sucked it up.

"But am here now," Santana finally said. "And am not going anywhere."

"Please, don't leave me San."

Santana, knew she couldn't. Quinn doesn't need another asshole to leave her.

"Never."

"I hate crying."

"Well, you won't anymore sweetheart."

Quinn waited for Santana to call her names, or a mean comment. She didn't.

"Shelby, is that what you said her name was?" Santana asked, as she looked into very sad hazel eyes.

"Yeah."

Sniff.

"I am sure she's a great mother, but am sure you'd be better."

Quinn teary-eyed, looked at Santana for a brief moment. She knew that feeling to well by now.

"Am sure...she's the best version of you." Santana said honestly.

"She is...she's perfect."

Santana smiled picturing a small Quinn, running around.

"I think, both of you are perfect."

Quinn wanted to kiss her. But stopped, she remembered the agreement.

"You know...your future husband is very lucky." Santana said, as she wiped the tears away from Quinn's rosy cheeks.

It might be you. You idiot!

"We'll find your Ken, Barbie."

"Shut up."

"Come on...I got all my hopes on you."

And I got all mine on you.

"Yeah, yeah." Green eyes rolled.

"You got a better shot, at marriage than me."

"San..."

"No...stop...I've given up already...should I get a ferret?"

Quinn frowned. Where the fuck did that come from?

"What? They are cute!" Santana defended herself.

You're cute.

"Why not, a Tasmanian devil?"

"We'd probably kill each other."

Quinn laughed.

"Okay, what about a tiger, well a cub." Santana looked down at a crying mess.

"San, you're getting more exotic."

"Where have I heard that before, oh yeah. Bed."

"How are you not a guy?" Quinn question, again.

"Oh, come on. You love me."

I don't know yet.

"You are one crazy bitch."

"Heard that one too." Santana smiled.

And just like that, they were back together. Well, friends.


Britt had set a double date with Artie, Santana, and Quinn.

"Aren't we too old for arcade games Britt? We probably look like child molesters here." Santana said, as they entered the crowded arcade.

"Okay, don't say that in a place full of kids." Quinn turned to Santana.

"Yeah Sanny, remember last time; we got kicked out of Chucky Cheeses."

"Britt, it was fucking Chucky Cheeses...and that pizza was shit...plus it was your idea." Santana said, as they sat on a booth.

"It wasn't my idea, to fool around in the-"

"Britt!" Santana warned. Both Artie, and Quinn didn't need to know that.

"It was a long time ago...B, loves telling the story...but it's not so much fun, when you have to cover your girlfriend's tits from seven-year-olds."

There was a pinch in Quinn's stomach, not a good one.

"It was funny, when they took our picture. So, they could put it up on the wall." Britt smiled.

"Last time, I went with you alone at a public place."

"Oh, Sanny."

Everyone saw the look Britt was giving Santana.

Oh, shit.

All played random games, until Artie saw foosball.

"Aw, shit!" Artie said.

"We all know, this game gives you legs." Santana said not giving a shit. Still a little bitter, for what he did to Brittany.

"Santana!" Quinn pinched her arm, hard.

"Ow, fuck!" Santana whined.

"It's okay Quinn. I am use to the jokes."

"Okay, let's step on it."

After a round, all got their drinks.

"Too bad, Redbull gives you wings instead of legs." Santana said to Artie.

Slap!

"Ow!"

They all played two rounds of foosball. Quinn and Santana played against Britt and Artie.

Santana shouted to Quinn, who also was screaming her demands on the game.

"Yes! Right there..." Santana shouted.

"Move to the left...right there..."

"Ah, am so close..."

"Stop moving to the right..." Quinn tried moving the handles.

"I need to get in there..."

"Keep going, don't stop..."

"Yes! Yes!"

"Ah!"

"I was so close..." Santana continued shouting.

"Am, coming..."

Both didn't know they were making sex noises. Once again getting kicked out.

"Thanks San..." Artie said outside the arcade.

"What? Quinn was doing it too!"

"Don't blame me!"

"I hate all of you." Santana rolled her eyes.

So, so you think you can tell

Heaven from hell

Blue skies from pain