A/N: Sorry for the late update! I hope this super long chapter makes up for it again.
Thank you to all the people who I pestered to help me along, especially my new beta: LickNstick
And yes...any and all lyric changes were on purpose.
In all of the years she has attended school, Quinn has never been sent down to the principal's office. Not once. Ever. From day one she has always been the student that spoke little but achieved great, always the teacher's favourite, never a toe out of line. Yet her she is, barely a month into her junior year sitting in Headmistress Archibald's office, for leading a flash mob during study hall. Blaine is in the chair next to her, his face void of emotion, eyes resembling that of a scared deer. Jeff and Nick are also present, standing behind them along with Wes, David and Thad. The group of girls Jeff had recruited and a rather large handful of students are most outside the maple double doors, overflowing out into the hallway. Blaine entwines their hands together, luckily hidden from Ms. Archibald's piercing vulture like glare.
"Mr. Anderson, I believe we have discussed this before. Informal public performances will not be tolerated here at Dalton! As well as the dangerous antics of standing on furniture," Ms. Archibald did not look or sound at all impressed, even more so when Nick tried to surpress a chuckle with a cough.
"And Miss Fabray," Quinn met Ms. Archibald's glare directly. "I am very disappointed in your behavior. A young lady with your glowing academic and social reputation should not be behaving in such a manner. I will be informing both of your parents of this childish incident," Quinn felt Blaine's hand squeeze hers; his face was still blank, and olive complexion stark white. She squeezed back, hoping it would give him some sort of reassurance.
Before the headmistress can continue, Jeff speaks up. "Please Ms. Archibald, it wasn't Blaine or Quinn's fault, the whole thing was my idea I swear!" Nick nods frantically in agreement.
"Mr. Sterling! If you hold any value to your athletic scholarship I suggest you hold your tongue and not interrupt you superiors," Ms. Archibald spits bitterly at Jeff, who withdraws, letting his head drop. Quinn had always wondered why their rehearsals had never taken place at Jeff's home…..
"As I was saying…"
"Headmistress Archibald, excuse me for interrupting," Quinn looks next to her. Blaine, his face no longer in a trance, but calm and almost confident, his fingers are still entwined with hers tightly. "It's my fault. I wanted the council to consider letting Quinn join the Warblers," Ms. Archibald raised an eyebrow. "I wanted to show them that allowing our female classmates to join would better improve our chances at competing this year, permitting the club to be kept running. I was wrong for demonstrating my opinion in such a disruptive manner. Punish me as you will Ms. Archibald, but Quinn, Jeff and Nick are not to blame,"
"Is this true?" No one moved or spoke.
"Blaine's statement is accurate," Wes begins slowly, eyes fleeting between everyone in the room. "He did propose that he and Quinn be the lead vocalists, as well as several other…erm…rather unique requests. The council granted them the chance to audition,"
"Despite, the er, unconventional methods that they,"
"Unconventional! You mean unaccept- Ouch! That hurt,"
"Shut up Thad," David rammed his elbow into Thad's arm causing him to yelp slightly.
"Yea, shut up Thad," Jeff chimed in mockingly.
"Jeff, don't," Nicked urged quietly, gently placing his hand on Jeff's arm. "Your scholarship,"
"Screw my damn scholarship!" Jeff was screeching now, tearing his arm away from Nick's hand. Quinn faintly saw the slight tenderness in Nick's eyes fade, replaced with uneasiness. "I don't give a shit about lacrosse or soccer! The Warblers, music; that's who I am, and who you are and who Blaine is. I'm not going to let Thad or anyone else take that away from us. For the first time we actually stand a god damn chance. They were good, they were really, really good. And if spontaneous break dancing had anything to show for, I'd say everyone else thought so too,"
A poignant silence fills the air. No one moves or speaks. Thad suddenly steps forward. "She's not even that good,"
Chaos erupts. Quinn's eyes are fleeting all around her. Too stunned to move from the red cushioned chair she's sitting on. Wes is imploringly apologizing to Ms. Archibald. While David is attempting to hold Thad in place, to keep him from attacking an animalistic looking Jeff who is currently being restrained by Blaine, who had rapidly got out of his chair to help a struggling Nick. Vulgar profanities are being screeched by both boys and Quinn spots Nick seemingly say something inaudible in Jeff's ear, a hand on his forearm, almost soothingly. The strangely tender action escapes her attention at a shrill scream.
"SILENCE!"
Every pair of eyes turns to look at a fuming Ms. Archibald. David loosened his restraint of Thad, as did Blaine and Nick of Jeff.
"Thank you," she says, surprisingly calm. "Dalton Academy and Crawford Country Day do not tolerate such wild behavior from any of its students. I completely agree with Mr. Harwood. The four of you have broken nearly a dozen school rules, I should expel you immediately," Thad grinned smugly, basking in superiority, ignoring the pointed glares from his fellow Warblers and Quinn. "However, in all my years as an educator, never have I seen a student body so riled up over something! So I have decided, against my better judgment, to give you your choir Mr. Anderson,"
"What?" Blaine is the first to react, hazel eyes wide with amazement, mouth gaping open.
"You're serious Ms. A! Holy shit! Yes! In your face Thad Harwood! We got it Nick! We got it!" Jeff is hollering and jumping up and down and laughing hysterically as if he just won the lottery.
"Language Mr. Sterling!" Ms. Archibald warns coolly, but with a slight smile on her face.
Quinn can't stop herself from grinning like mad, even long after leaving the Headmistress' office, into the sea of students clearly eavesdropping at the door. Jeff and Nick are practically dancing down the hallway with David and Wes cheerily in tow. Thad is unsurprisingly is nowhere in sight.
Suddenly Blaine stopped and robotically sat in on one of the green leather couches that littered throughout various hallways, his eyes still wide with astonishment. Quinn smiles wistfully at him.
"You did it," she whispers to him, sitting beside him, their legs pressed together.
Blaine looks over to her, the glint in his eyes similar from hours before; when they stood too close together, breathing heavily on the stone court yard table, the final notes of the duet echoing into the buzz of students.
The golden orbs are getting closer, so close that Quinn can't see them clearly, the rich musky scent of Blaine's cologne filling her nostrils, strong and unsure hands on the small of her back. "We did it," he says, barely a whisper, warm breath on her mouth.
Blaine's full pink lips cover Quinn's properly, unlike in the courtyard before when they barely ghosted over the corner. They're warm and chapped and taste like cherry licorice, mint and something that she can't quite place. But it doesn't matter, because Quinn finally understands what all the fuss is about. The feeling of Blaine's lips lapping over hers, tongues just barely mingling together, it feels wonderful. It feels like they only just started when Blaine pulls away, his hands still placed awkwardly on her waist. He smiles timidly at her, his eyes full of anticipation for her response. Quinn just smiles back, not quite sure what to say.
Their hands are clasped all the way to Quinn's home where he leaves her on the doorstep, after gingerly brushing his lips against her cheek and saying that he will call her tomorrow. It's not until far later, after the excitement has sunken in and the girlish squealing drowned out by her Frank Sinatra record has finished its tenth round, that an unexplainable feeling begins to loom over Quinn's head like a single rain cloud on a warm summer's day. The reality, that even while Blaine's lips had felt remarkable kissing her, a bizarre notion of guilt clouded her mind.
"Burn, burn, burn, burn, burn,"
The sky is pitch black and the snow falls violently on the rooftop. The putrid stench of burning flesh is carried by the strong blustering winds. Menacing deep chants grow louder and louder. As the figures clasp hands, they fall; their screams piercing overtop of the mantra of voices bellow them.
"I'll never say goodbye to you,"
The Dalton/Crawford Inter-School Choir, horribly dubbed by Headmistress Archibald began two weeks after the courtyard flash mob. For the first ever record in Dalton Academy history, the senior commons contained both boys and girls humming scales and vocal warm ups together. In spite of the popularity of said flash mob, not many girls actually showed up to the audition and several boys quit. Four girls that Jeff had conducted harmonies for had immediately joined without question. Carly and Serena, from ballet club, who really couldn't sing all too well, were more than happy to harmonize in the background and stare at Wes and David, along with two other girls Quinn had never met. One was Joanna, a sophomore with a generic nasally pop voice and Heidi, a small and shy freshman who possessed a rich and powerful contralto range. David recruited a fellow junior named Marissa to audition, she was intelligent and sassy, Quinn liked her straight away, and then even more so when she belted out Aretha barely taking a breath of preparation. Even Thad, began to be slightly less sullen and moody, spending the majority of his time chatting quietly with Heidi.
"We're still one girl short from being even Quinn," Blaine slumped in the piano bench just before their third practice began burying his head into the Lionel Richie sheet music.
Quinn sat herself next to himself, placing a hand comfortingly on his forearm. "We only just started Blaine. Someone else will come and audition, I'm sure of it,"
"Jeff did mention meeting someone who seemed interested…."
She gently brings his face away from the sheet music. "In the meantime, we should practice. Didn't you say you arranged a duet for us to try?"
Blaine smiles at her warmly and nods. He straightens the sheet music on the piano stand and begins to play softly. The other members stop mingling and begin to listen.
I've been alone with you inside my mind
And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times
I sometimes see you pass outside my door
Hello, is it me you're looking for?
Quinn joins in at the chorus of the familiar song, her voice meshing and harmonizing with Blaine's. She marveled at Blaine's musical talent, as his hands caress the keys effortlessly, and rarely glanced at the sheet music.
I can see it in your eyes
I can see it in your smile
You're all I've ever wanted, and my arms are open wide
'Cause you know just what to say
And you know just what to do
And I want to tell you so much, I love you ...
Ohh yeahh...
I long to see the sunlight in your hair
And tell you time and time again how much I-
The oak double doors of the common room slammed shut, causing everyone's heads to turn swiftly to the noise.
"Charming, but kinda boring," Quinn whipped her head around to see a girl leaning against the now closed double doors, Quinn instinctually knew she was bad news. Her kilt was scandalously short, barely covering her behind paired with black leather boots, her white blouse displaying a dangerous amount of cleavage. Quinn would have thought her pretty with her tanned skin and sleek chestnut hair, had it not been for her obvious haughtiness.
"This is a closed rehearsal," Quinn lashed back spitefully.
Jeff stepped forward and Quinn glared at him as he strode over to the mysterious girl. "Annalise! You made it!"
"You know her?" Joanna asked incredulously, eyebrows raised.
"Everyone, this is Annalise Martinez, our newest member," Jeff stated proudly, an arm around Annalise's shoulders as she smirked smugly.
"You can't be serious Jeff," Quinn declared, eyeing her disapprovingly.
"What?" Jeff asked. "We needed another member, preferably a girl, and I got you one,"
"What kind of formal arts background do you have?" Quinn tried cautiously, gaiting away from the piano and Blaine's side toward the Latina girl.
"Ballroom dancing," she states promptly.
"You are aware that this a show choir, glee club, we sing,"
"I'm perfectly aware and I have a killer voice," Annalise drawls. "You better watch your back Barbie,"
"I prefer Quinn actually,"
The room was silent for a moment, tension palpable, Quinn's green eyes piercing into deep brown ones.
"Did you come prepared to audition," Blaine finally voices politely in the silence, he's no longer at the piano, but standing promptly beside Quinn, a hand on her tense arm. "I can play an accompaniment if you wish," Quinn admires him for his being so dapper and polite, not that Annalise and all her vulgarity deserved it.
"Naw, I got it covered doll face," Annalise winks at him and pets the lapel of his blazer. "Thanks though," Blaine begins to splutter incoherently and Quinn grips his hand tightly leading him to a green sofa.
Annalise hands Jeff a CD and strokes his side with mocking affection. The music begins and Quinn silently prayers that she croaks like a frog and Jeff is just blinded by her confident and sultry presence.
The Latina girl radiates confidence as the words of the Amy Winehouse song roll off her tongue. Her voice, much to Quinn's frustration is fantastic. It's deep and rich and has just the right amount of rasp. She circulates around the room, her dark eyes radiating lust at all the boys in the room, running her hands over them as she struts past. All of them, even Thad, stare at her in wonder, like sailors giving in to the seductive siren on the rocks. Blaine seems to be the only one who doesn't show any interest whatsoever, his eyes merely studying her with innocent curiosity.
Her performance ends in a bang and everyone claps whilst murmuring amongst themselves, Jeff is just about jumping up and down in his giddiness, his eyes raking over her curves with desire.
"Welcome to Crawford/Dalton Interschool show choir!" Jeff exclaims triumphantly to Annalise who is examining her nails with a bored expression on her face.
"Thanks. Just let me know when we're going to do some real music," She turning to leave, her kilt flaring out, revealing more of her toned tanned thighs. "Something a little less, stiff next time," Annalise's dark eyes sharpen, her glare stabbing Quinn like daggers.
"See ya 'round Barbie," She spits before strutting out the door, Jeff in her wake, with one last glare toward Quinn.
Quinn's mind was racing, the floor squeaking in the same place every time she crosses it, vision blurred.
Guitar, carpet, keyboard, guitar, carpet, keyboard, guitar, carpet, keyboard, guitar, carpet, keyboard, guitar, carpet keyboard….
Quinn, Quinn, Quinn
"QUINN!"
"Hm?"
"You're going to wear a hole in my floor if you keep pacing like that," Blaine is sitting with his legs crossed on his maroon comforter, the top few button of his shirt undone; tie hanging loosely around his neck. "Why don't you just sit down, relax a little,"
"I'm sorry, but I'm kind of stressed here Blaine. How can you sit there so idly while that bitch is trying to tear apart all of our hard work!" Quinn continues to pace back and forth across Blaine's somewhat small bedroom, from the guitar stand on the right side and the keyboard in the left corner.
Blaine gives an awkward chuckle. "Don't you think you're over exaggerating just a little bit, I mean, yeah her ideas are little unconventional but…"
"Unconventional!" Quinn shouts angrily, throwing her arms up in the air. "Look I don't care what they did at that criminal school she used to go to! We're a show choir, from a private school in Ohio. "Hairography" isn't exactly going to work for us,"
"Yea that hair flipping was really weird," Blaine nods in agreement. "But, she kind of had a point, about the dancing bit,"
"Oh so you're taking her side now?" Quinn snaps distinctly remembering who counterproductive practice had gone earlier that day. Every time she had opened her mouth to song the lyrics of Endless Love, the new number they were practicing, Annalise went and opened her big mouth. Either it was how lame the song was or how frigid Quinn was and how phony she sounded. Quinn had been ready to tear Annalise's eyes out of their sockets while everyone else made unbiased remarks and Jeff echoed the Latina girl's every word like some pathetic parrot. And even worse, Blaine had nodded every once in a while as if inhaling her unwanted corrections like they matter even just a little. It seemed that only Nick was on her side when it came to Annalise, not even her own boyfriend!
"God, we should have never have let her join. All she does is sit around and criticize all of my decisions. I'm telling you Blaine! She's out to get me,"
"Hey," Blaine stands, grabbing Quinn's hands and guiding her to sit down next to him on the bed. "I'm not taking her side. Not at all," His eyes bore into Quinn's, his thumb rubbing gently circles into her palm. "Yes, she's a little off the wire, but we're really lucky that Jeff got her to join. She has a great voice and she has winning experience. Jane Adam's Academy won second place at sectionals last year. Her opinions should be valued, even if just a little,"
Quinn shifted her hand away from Blaine's soft, soothing thumb and placed them in her lap, not wanting him to see her guilty expression.
"I know you're nervous because she can sing well, but you don't have to worry. You, Quinn are probably the most talented performer that I know, you just shine," Blaine shifts just slightly closer to her, putting a comforting hand on her arm. "Do you remember that waiver that Ms. Archibald made us sign when we started the club? Well, when I read it again last…"
"You actually read that thing?" Quinn raises her eyebrows in amusement.
"Of course I did, and if you actually had taken the chance to read too, you would have seen that the entire group, Annalise included, signed saying that me and you. Blaine Anderson and Quinn Fabray will be singing lead at all competition performances this season,"
Blaine tenderly tucks a stray blonde hair behind Quinn's ear, letting his unsteady fingers rest on her face a little too long, but removes them quickly when Quinn's green eyes turn to his. "You and I are going to kill this thing. Okay?"
"Okay," Quinn manages to whisper in agreement.
Blaine holds her silently, curled up on his bed, the soothing melody of Moon River morphing into slow song she's never heard. Yet even in the new found comfort of Blaine's strong arms, Quinn can't bear the silence, she lets her eyelid close and she pretends that Annalise's jarring criticism doesn't tug at images she has kept locked away underneath dance steps, song lyrics and math equations. She shoves them away like she always does and pretends that the sound of Blaine's steady breaths are all that's seeping through her mind.
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
With homework, the beginnings of the spring ballet and practicing a new duet arrangement with Blaine that Jeff had found on the internet, Quinn manages to forget about Annalise and her threatening ways. It's not until a gloomy Friday afternoon at choir practice do all the things she has kept stored away under lock and key come to back to haunt her.
So I travel back
Down that road
Will you come back?
No one knows
I realize
It was only just a dream
I was thinking about you
Thinking bout me
Thinkin bout us
What we gunna be?
Open my eyes, (Yeah)
It was only just a dream...
"Ok everyone, take 5!" Wes announces banging on his gavel as Blaine's piano playing fades.
"Take 5 for what?" Annalise asks, disdain dripping from her voice, glaring at Quinn. "Because swaying and humming in the background while Ken and Barbie sing every song is so God damn tiring,"
Quinn narrowed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath. This had been the 10th time in the past hour, and Quinn had, had enough. "What is your problem exactly," Quinn snaps, stalking away from Blaine's side at the piano toward Annalise.
"I don't know what you're talking about Fabray," Annalise replies smoothly, her dark eyes were menacing.
"You clearly have a problem with something here, since every word that comes out of your mouth either insults me or the songs. If I did anything to offend you Annalise, then please enlighten me and everyone else in the room, because this is ending right here and right now," Quinn is fuming, her eyes glowering at the girl in front of her. The room was silent.
"Do you want to know what my problem is? My problem is that this is all bullshit! First of all, the songs suck. All of them. And it doesn't fucking help that you and hobbit over there sing every God damn one while we sway behind you! Yea, your boy toy has a voice, but you, you're not that good Fabray. You're a frigid uptight little rich girl who can kind of sing because of daddy's cold hard cash,"
"You don't know anything about me or my family," Quinn snarls. "So don't pretend like you do,"
"I don't need to. I can see right through you. But what about the rest of them? What about your boyfriend? What do they know about you besides that you wear way too much foundation and you have a really bad dye job? No one wants a phony as their leader. And that's all you are a big, fat, fraud,"
Quinn's head is spinning; her heart is pounding in her ears, Annalise's malicious words hanging in the silence. The memories she had kept locked away for so long as unleashed like the evils of Pandora's Box, swirling viciously in her mind, the memory of the cold purple liquid running down her back makes her shiver.
And then she runs. The double doors are thrown open and she bolts blindly down the hallways, heels clicking, hot tears fogging her vision, spiteful voices echoing in her ears.
"Freak,"
"Watch where you're going fat ass"
"Her face is so gross, those zits are nasty,"
"Spare tire much, or five,"
"Brace face,"
"Looks like the hag is without her fag,"
"Lucy Caboosey, Lucy Caboosey, Lucy Caboosey, Lucy Caboosey, Lucy Caboosey, Lucy Caboosey,"
She tears the bathroom door open, which is thankfully empty and sinks to the floor. Then for the first time in three years she weeps; her body trembling against the white tiled wall, eyes stinging.
"Quinn?" a muffled voice calls. "Quinn are you in there?' The bathroom door creeks open, the familiar scent of cologne and mint fills her nostrils.
"Please say something," Blaine pleads crouching beside where she is sprawled against the wall. "Anything,"
Quinn says nothing, her eyes remain transfixed on the door.
"I'm sorry I didn't really believe you before," Blaine slides against the wall and settles himself next to Quinn. "Everyone wants to kick her out of the club, even Jeff. She had no right to say those things to you, she…"
"She's right," Quinn finally says, cutting off Blaine's babblings.
"What?"
"She's right Blaine,"
"Please, don't be…"
"I'm a fraud," Quinn mumbles between choking tears. Blaine's eyes soften and he puts a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"That's not true Quinn. You are the most beautiful, genuine girl I've ever met. She's just jealous Quinn. Don't let her get to you,"
They sit there for a few moments in silence, until Quinn allows Blaine to help her up and take her home. When Blaine's silver Mazda parks in front of Quinn's white house, she tells him quietly to come inside. He doesn't question her as they silently enter the house through the columned archway. The house is empty.
He follows her up the winding stair case to her bedroom. He's been here once before for a brief time. The spacious bedroom is still a soft yellow and the porcelain picture of the Virgin Mary is still hung above the head board, looming over them with her sorrowful dark eyes.
Blaine sits on the plush window seat, beside the box of alphabetical ordered vinyl records, the first rays of sun that emerge from behind the clouds against the back of his neck. Quinn wordlessly goes into her walk in closet and emerges with a small wooden box in her hands. She sits as far away from Blaine as she can on the window seat, opens the box just a crack and takes out a small leather bound journal and opens it a crack removes a small black journal.
"Before I moved to Westerville, I used to live in Charleston with my mom and my grandparents, while my dad travelled for his new job at Anderson & Sons. I went to a performing art school there," Her voice is small and hushed and slightly raspy
"Yea that's not a secret Quinn, everyone knows."
She cuts him off and hushes him before continuing, fiddling with the ribbon bookmark of the journal. "Before I moved to Charleston, I lived here in Ohio, a small town called Lima; it's about two hours away from here," Quinn pauses, taking in a small breath and places the small leather bound book in Blaine's lap. He runs his hand over the smooth black leather; the green ribbon book mark is fraying on the ends. On the bottom left had corner he see two familiar words inscribed in gold, with one he has never seen. Lucy Quinn Fabray. Blaine furrows his brow and opens to the marked page to the picture of an unfamiliar girl, but when he sees her bright green eyes behind thick round glasses, his breath falters and his mouth opens slightly, trying to form words that won't come to him.
"My middle name is Quinn, I stopped going by Lucy a long time ago because kids made up a mean nickname," She takes the journal out of Blaine's hand as his fingers trail over the unfamiliar face on the photo. "I hated the way I looked. I had zits; I was chubby, felt terrible about myself. I didn't have friends, nobody would talk to me. I was the only kid at school who had to dissect their own frog because nobody would be my lab partner,"
Quinn's voice chokes, green eyes glassy with tears as the cool memories of the past spill off her lips "Then I started working out, lost a little bit of weight, found out I was flexible, then I joined ballet, went on proactive for my acne. And when my dad got transferred and got a raise I asked him if I could get a nose job, and he said yes," Tears are freely tracking down Quinn's cheeks. "Then I asked them to call me Quinn,"
"Do you hate yourself?" Blaine asks quietly, looking up at Quinn from under his eyelashes, trying to picture the sad auburn haired girl from the old photograph in Quinn's angelic face.
Yes. "No I love myself. And that's why I did all those things. I've been that girl Blaine, and I'm never going back. I was a miserable little girl,"
They sit in silence, sitting a good foot away from each other, Quinn crying silently, tears dripping onto the journal in her lap, the picture faced down in between them.
"Can you go please," Quinn says, not meeting Blaine's eyes.
He leaves, swinging his messenger bag over his shoulder and discreetly slipping the photograph in the pocket of his blazer.
Blaine sits in his car in front of his house unmoving, long after leaving Quinn crying in her room. He stares at the photograph of Lucy – Quinn – Fabray. She must have been only 12 or 13 when it was taken. Her face is rounder but with the same small chin. Hair is a dark auburn, not the golden tresses he knows so well. But her eyes, despite being hidden behind the thick framed glass are still the same piercing green.
He fumbles with the keys on his keyboard, playing the latest rewrite of his somber melody. He hums to what should be the chorus, the words still haven't come to him yet; his mind still reels back to everything Quinn had told him of her lonely former life, every time his eyes caught site of the photo propped up against the sheet music. It could almost be a novel. He can see the synopsis now. A little girl named Lucy on her quest for beauty.
Blaine picks up the picture in his hands and his eyes light up. "Lucy," he whispers and begins to write furiously in his notebook.
Why can't you see
What you're doing to me
The autumn breeze is cool but refreshing and Quinn wraps her green scarf tighter around her neck and pulls her white beret over her ears. Lincoln Park, across the street from King's Island was her favourite place in Westerville. The gardens were quaint and simple and wooden benches lined the cobblestone pathways. Today, however she had been reluctant to come. She had been more than surprised when she woke up from another terrible nightmare to a text from Blaine asking to meet him in the park that Saturday afternoon. He was probably going to end their short lived relationship, friendship, whatever they seemed to have. Quinn couldn't image someone as genuine and loving as Blaine would want to associate himself with a fraud. She was just about to leave, convincing herself Blaine has come to his sense when she saw him approach her.
Blaine sat down on the bench next to her. His hair had noticeably less product in it, curling softly around his ears, his favourite maroon scarf wrapped around his neck.
"Thanks for meeting me," he says, readjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder. I was hoping, you would let me show you something,"
Quinn nods in reply, and lets him lead the way out of the park, questioning his motives to herself.
"King's Island? What is it with you and this place?" Quinn quips, trying to unleash her usual wit and lighten the awkward silence as they stand in the overly familiar empty banquet hall. "I thought you hated the country club?"
"I do hate the country club. But, they have the resources I need," Blaine smiles lightly, at her , running a hand over the smooth wood of the wooden upright piano. "I'm not really good at talking about my feelings, but the other day when you just opened up to me like that, you…you just, just listen,"
Before Quinn can reply, Blaine is sitting at the piano bench and closes his eyes as his fingers hit the keys.
I've seen her face, I've heard her name
I've lost my place and she's to blame
And I can't stand it when I'm starin' in her eyes
And she's not lookin' back
It ain't big surprise
I've heard music, I've heard noise
I wish that she could hear her voice
The way that I do when I go to sleep at night
And dream my life away
But she's gone when I awake
Lucy, Lucy
Why can't you see
What you're doing to me?
The way her hair falls in her eyes
Makes me wonder if she'll ever see through my disguise
And I'm under her spell
Everything is falling but I don't know where to land
Everyone knows where she is
But she don't know who I am
Lucy, Lucy
Why can't you see
What you're doing to me?
I see you singin' on that stage
Looking like an angel
And all I do is pray, that maybe
One day you'll hear my song and understand that all along
There's something more that I'm tryin' to say
When I say
Lucy, Lucy
Why can't you see
What you're doing to me?
What you're doing to me?
Lucy, oh when I say, Lucy
Oh when I say
Why can't you see
What you're doing to me
What you're doing to me
As Blaine gently caresses the final keys of his ballad, he cautiously looks out of the corner of his eye to where he left Quinn standing. He can't quite understand the expression on her face; a strange compilation of her tears from yesterday and the golden smile he so desperately desires to haunt his dreams.
"So…" he begins while picking at the dead skin his calloused finger. "Was it, was it too much?" Blaine bites his bottom lip watching Quinn wiping her fingers furiously under her eyes while beaming incandescently.
"Not at all," Quinn is smiling now even though tears are still gently coursing down her face; she takes a few steps closer to him and gently places a hand on his cheek.
Blaine accepts her embrace as she wraps her thin arms around him, breathing in the scent of her almost too sweet perfume. Quinn leans in to kiss him, whispering a barely audible "thank you" before closing her lips on his. Blaine lets himself relax into her lips, kissing her back softly, laying a hand tenderly on her waist.
"So, why Lucy?" Blaine finally asks. He's been cautiously quizzing her about the girl who was Lucy Fabray. They're at the small lush park across the street from King Island, sitting on the bench, hands entwined lightly.
Quinn chuckles. "My dad had an affinity for the Beatles in the 90's, and my sister happened to be reading those Narnia books for school at the time," Her green eyes are shining brightly at the happy memories, Quinn can remember, back to sitting mortified on the couch with Frannie as her dad proudly stated his inspiration for the names of both his daughters to their dinner guests.
"Do you miss anything," Blaine poses carefully, hoping his curiosity wouldn't trigger anything, his few other questions had been mediocre. "About your old life,"
"Breadsticks," Quinn answers almost in a daze of memory.
"Breadsticks?"
"It's a restaurant, in Lima. My parents and I used to go all the time, when we could afford it," Quinn smiles fondly. "They have unlimited breadsticks,"
"I figured as much," Blaine chortles.
Blaine walks Quinn back to her house on Washington Street and kisses her goodbye on the front porch, like he has seen in countless films. She tells him that he's incredibly cheesy when he tells her how beautiful he thinks she is.
When he walks through the door of his own house, he makes his way through the pristinely decorated hallways to his own room. As soon as he enters, Blaine collapses on the bed squirming his way up the mattress to rest his head on the pillow. A picture of Quinn smiling brightly greets him from his nightstand. Blaine takes the picture, admiring Quinn's delicate face. She was the most beautiful girl Blaine had ever seen. She had even made crying look beautiful, tears streaking down her cheeks, like a melancholy angel that fell from the heavens above.
"I want to fall in love with you, some day," he had whispered quietly into her hair after she kissed him in the banquet hall, and God did he ever. Blaine wanted to fall in love with this beautiful girl more than anything. He wanted to want her, all of her; her face, her lips, her soul, her body.
Blaine prays, like he has done every night for as long as he can remember, an unbreakable habit. He prays that Quinn's deep green eyes and her radiant smile will plague his dreams when he finally falls into a peaceful slumber.
He shivers, wrapping his arms around himself, the snow in the air is crisp and the wind bites at his bare arms. The night is a dark navy, stars illuminating dimly. Suddenly in the silence, almost inaudible music whistles in the cold breeze and a clear high voice, the sound deafeningly beautiful.
"Sing for me," The voices whispers, it's so close, and Blaine can feel a warm musky breathe on the back of his neck.
Long arms wrap strongly around his waist, pressing his back against an unknown warm body. Blaine wants to pull away, but the warmth and the pure feeling of desire make him lean into the mysterious embrace, letting his head rest against the flat sculpted chest.
"Sing for me," it repeats the voice slightly deeper this time.
The figure is suddenly in front of him, long delicate fingers grasping his hand pulling him along. The details of the distinctly male face remain hidden in the shadow of the night, even when facing directly. Suddenly the man's breath is by his ear, hands grasping at his waist, lips caressing his neck, all causing Blaine to shiver.
"Wildly your mind beats against me,"
The lithe man pulls away from Blaine's neck, stepping slightly into the light of the stars. Bright sapphire eyes sparkle in the dim light of the stars.
"Let your soul obey,"
"Are you going somewhere Blaine?" Blaine nearly jumps five feet in the air while turning away from the mirror, almost dropping the tie in his hands. Maria Anderson stands at her son's bedroom door, arms crossed, inspecting Blaine.
"I'm uh, yes mother," Blaine quickly answers, letting his tie drape around his shoulders.
"You know how important Sunday night dinners are to your father, especially when he's home to enjoy them. I'm sure Nick and Jeff will survive without you for their trouble making for one night. Your father and I haven't forgotten that phone call from Headmistress Archibald."
"I'm not going out with Nick and Jeff," Blaine begins cautiously, tying his Windsor knot.
"Oh?" Maria inquires approaching her son.
"I have a date,"
"Really? With who?"
"Quinn Fabray,"
"Quinn Fabray? Russell and Judy's girl?"
"Yes, Quinn," Blaine is biting at his bottom lip awkwardly, looking at his mother, waiting for her stern reprimand so that he can cancel with Quinn.
"Well then. In that case, I'm sure your father will understand," Maria is trying to hide an impish grin; she pats Blaine on the arm and slowly backs out of her son's room. "Make sure you're not home too late, and use the MasterCard,"
Maria waits patiently in the dining room, as she hears the front door close quietly and Blaine's car pull out of the driveway. She lights the new raspberry scented candles she bought the other day and sets the table for two with the best China.
"What's all this Mari?" Kevin Anderson asks from the archway that connects the dining room with the drawing room. The sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, hair still slicked back from this morning. "It's a little early for dinner don't you think?"
Maria smiles approaching her husband, even in all the aging stress, he was still handsome, dark hair with few silver strands, the hint of the Irish brood that had charmed her so many years ago still remained. As shallow as it was, it irked her a little that Blaine hadn't inherited Kevin's good looks or anything from the Anderson clan, except her sister-in-law's god awful hair.
"He went out, so I thought we could take advantage of the alone time,"
Kevin frowned, creasing his forehead. "Blasted kid. Thinks he can just blow off a family tradition and run off with those hooligans. He's getting a piece of my mind when he gets home,"
"Actually," Maria can't suppress her smirk anymore. "He's on a date,"
"A date," Kevin repeats, raising an eyebrow. "With a girl?"
"Not just any girl. With Quinn Fabray,"
"Russell's girl!"
"Mhm, the very same,"
They eat dinner in a comfortable silence, exchanging small talk, and chatting excitedly about how Blaine's date may be progressing. As they discuss their son, and his potential budding romance with the Fabray girl.
"I know I wasn't exactly fond of the idea in the beginning," Maria begins, picking at her food. "But those ridiculous summer camps must have really done the trick,"
Kevin chuckles. "I told you they were just what he needed, to sort him out,"
Maria hums in agreement; everything was finally going down the path she wanted. Kevin still wanted her, her peers we're finally, at least pretending, to treat her with the respect her social rank deserved and her son, her precious Blainers, was on a date with a pretty girl. Never again would anyone ever presume that there was something wrong with her little boy and it was worth every cent.
The song that Blaine sings to Quinn is actually called Sami by Darren Criss, I changed the lyrics for the purpose of the story.