Chapter 10 – Happy Birthday
OK The boy's absence last chapter will be explained here. Oh special shout out to my new proofreader, gleefan88 who has hopefully made my ramblings more understandable and less painful to read.
/
"Hey, you've reached Finn's phone. Uh… I can't catch your call right now but leave a message. Wait! What the? Puck! Beep."
Quinn rolled eyes at the voice mail, her irritation only rising. The two footballers had been absent for the past week, with their impromptu vacation alarming even their parents. The blonde already had to field calls from the mother's of both boys, which is saying a lot considering the fact that they didn't particularly warm up to her after the baby incident. Her headache was coming back. Today was the diva's birthday. Rachel was turning eighteen... Where the heck was Finn?
Rubbing her forehead, it occurs to the ex-cheerleader that she might be reaching her limit. Funnily enough, before Rachel, she didn't know she had one. After the Kelsey saga, the brunette had doubled her efforts on trying to talk to the blonde. Quinn's resolve was crumbling. She wasn't sure if refusing the offers was the right thing to do, anymore. It was like swimming against the current. And she was drowning. The softball player was starting to feel as if her random moments with the singer had an impact, had meaning, past the here and now. In those intervals, she had clarity. But, did that really meananything? The only thing grounding her was Rachel and Finn. They are the endgame, always were.
One. Last. Job. And she would be good, free. There wouldn't be any feelings to be deal with, no confusion…
Her phone rings loudly, breaking through her thoughts.
"Hello?"
Static. There's so much that it hurts her ears. The blonde holds the thin piece of technology closer to her ear, trying to discern the caller. A voice eventually emerged from the noisy background.
"Quinn! So…glad …caught you. Puck…I…carnival…present…"
Finn. The softball player narrowed her eyes. She could barely make out the words through the connection.
"Hudson, I can't hear you! Just get back here. It's Berry's birthday today."
Static. She grunted in frustration, moving her books in her arms in an annoyed fashion. The ex-captain was beginning to garner glances from other students. Perfect. She turned away to face her locker. Finn's apologetic tone comes through the speaker.
"Sorry…going to…late…can you…set up…please?"
Suddenly, there are no more sounds. The softball player turns around to hiss.
"Finn!"
There's nothing but a dial tone. Quinn stares at the useless plastic in her hand. Frustration doesn't creep – it washes over her. So much for distance...There's a decision to make. Her fingers shakily tap against the lockers as the ex-cheerleader closes her eyes.
Right versus wrong. Want versus need. Staying versus leaving.
In the end it doesn't really matter because Quinn can see the singer in her mind's eye. She doesn't need to be around the girl to know that this morning, Rachel had woken up with a bounce in her step and a brilliant wide smile on her face. She didn't need to see, to imagine the hope behind those brown orbs throughout the day. It was just something she knew.
So, in the end, the choice isn't actually hers. Choosing implies an acceptable alternative. There was none, at least nothing that the softball player was willing to explore. The blonde slips an invitation into the diva's locker. At one point she begins to wonder how it got to this, when caring had become as natural as breathing. She wants to blame Finn. Her hand traces the lingering word on the metal. Ugly. Since the incident, the spray paint has washed out considerably, but you could still see the print if you knew it was there. It was so far from the truth. Quinn leans her forehead against the locker that wasn't hers. It's calming in a way. She is absent for the rest of the day.
The brunette would get her prince charming. That was something, she could control…
/
Later that night, Rachel is trying on various outfits for her date with Finn. She didn't know what to expect. Black dress and red pumps? Or Plaid skirt and a pink cardigan? The footballer had always enjoyed the wholesome look. Earlier the singer had opened her locker to find a note from her boyfriend in his messy scrawl.
"Happy Birthday Rach. Meet me at the Thai Palace at 7."
It was strange, really. She hadn't seen the boy for more than a week. The brunette feels a little guilty because Finn's disappearance wasn't a problem when it should've been. She should have been distraught. The Rachel of the past would have overwhelmed the footballer's answering machine with messages. But she's not that girl anymore. There's a myriad of thoughts racing through her mind. Somehow her focus seem to settle on the softball player; questions, thoughts, feelings that she couldn't explain. The slip-ups happened when she was still. So Rachel Berry didn't become still. In the past few days she's busier than she's ever been, in an effort to adapt, forget. It's a forced action because when she's around Quinn, control becomes an issue. The air is thinner and it's like… magnets.
Her fathers notice the change. They're worried because Rachel Barbra Berry had always known exactly what she felt. Their little diva had been in love with Finn Hudson since freshman year.
But, Hiram and Leroy Berry also recognize that their daughter never used to wear a letterman jacket, too small to be her boyfriend's, to sleep. And she's certainly never only resided on one side of the bed. They're concerned by the slight disappointment in her eyes every time she wakes up. She's alwaysmissing something that was never there…
/
On the other side of town, Quinn is directing a set of waiters around. Over the course of the day, they had managed to clear most of the usual tables away to create a makeshift dance floor. It was by no means grand or lavish but it was enough. The room has a romantic atmosphere as a lone pink lily decorated the center booth. To anyone else it would have seemed like the person had placed very little effort. To anyone else…
Electric lanterns were lowered instead of the usual florescent lights, casting an orange glow. The open karaoke stage had been transformed into a spot for the house band. On it, there was a light wooden piano. It was old. Quinn wondered how many stories it held and whether this moment, tonight would be one of them.
"Hey, blondie? Could you come out back? I need help plugging the guitars to the speakers and Mike needs to know the composition for the song you want played."
A voice called from her left. The softball player shook her head, moving to assist the struggling waiter. She gave the instrument on last pat. It would serve its purpose. When she reached the problem, all she could see was a mess of wires. A sheepish young man with jet-black hair had random points of cable wrapped around his arm and torso. On his nametag was the name Matt. The blonde remembered this waiter; he had been more helpful than anyone else. It would be easy for someone to dismiss him due to his silly grin but Quinn could see past that. In his eyes was understanding that only came through a fractured past. Kindred spirits. She took the plug from his hand.
"Okay, so you place the green line to the hole with the grooves and then do a twist since your wires are a little frayed."
There was a mild screech before the systems stabilized and the connection was set. Matt's shoulders drop in relief. He was afraid he had broken it. Then it would be taken out of his paycheck. The part time worker watched as the blonde made her way back to the piano. He had been watching her all day. The softball player seemed to alternate between blind determination and something else. He thinks he sees indecision, regret but it's gone as soon as it comes. His eyes stray to the loose leafs of sheet music.
"It's a good song, you know."
Quinn looked up in surprise, taking her fingers off the keys. She had almost forgotten that there was someone else in the room. The waiter's eyes seem to glitter at her discomfort, so she glared. She's the HBIC; it's a useless defense. Matt held his hands in mock surrender.
"Hey it's a compliment you should take it as one. I mean it's got a slow beat which is perfect for dancing but it's kind of depressing don't you think? This is for a date night right?"
The blonde ignored the question, instead asking one of her own. Her eyebrow was raised.
"You know how to play?"
With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Matt sat next to the girl on the piano stool. Quinn shifted away in annoyance. She seemed to do that a lot lately, move away from contact. The ex-cheerleader swore that she could still feel the singer, hands clasped in hers, squeezing her shoulder and tending to her injuries: always never quite alone.
…But, she wished that she were, because then she wouldn't have to feel like this.
Soft music started to play. The young man's hands are surprisingly nimble as they dance across the keys. The ex-captain recognizes her own song. The soft start, the slow bridge, the strong chorus. It hit a chord in the girl as something hardened within her. Her fists clenched unknowingly whilst Matt simply observed.
"You must really love this person."
He pauses, facing the girl. Gone was his goofy persona, replaced by something a little more serious. It's still gentle, though. The blonde rolls her eyes, taking over the instrument, her fingers move across the keys with a practiced ease. The song once again fills the room. After a while, her response is slow and measured.
"No… I don't."
It's a simple answer to a complex question. No justification and no excuses are attached. There are a million things to say but they both keep silent. The song continues except Quinn's more focused this time. The notes are more deliberate. She swallows. A shadow is casted in her green eyes. Sighing, Matt ran his hand through his hair. She was so much like his younger self. Blind. And she'll probably make the same mistakes. Get hurt. Lose faith. Eventually, he speaks.
"You're lying, you know. Either to me or to yourself."
Abruptly, the music stops. Quinn looks up. Her eyes hold his. There's a clang coming from the kitchen and it breaks the stare. Reverently, she closes the lid to the piano. She's looking at a spot in the wall when the words slip out of her mouth.
"I can't say yes…"
"Why?"
A sad smile makes its way to her face. The heartbreaking part is that it looks like it belongs there. She moves off the stage and Matt wonders who at this age could cause such pain and confusion. There's a whisper that he has to strain to hear her.
"Because someone once told me that love doesn't let us down..."
/
An hour passes.
Quinn is behind the stage, fiddling with the connections when Rachel enters. Whoosh. The draft from outside blows in, stealing the air from her lungs. It's hardly fair. She can't move...but she can see. The singer is wearing a strapless dress that does everything to accentuate her figure. The top half is a light tan coloured corset, drawing attention to the diva's chest. The softball player swallowed reflexively. When did her mouth get so dry? Her attention drifts lower. The bottom part was light pink, just falling short of the knees, exposing the brunette's long legs. For a second the blonde forgets the events of the day, the colour of her car and her last name.
If you're ugly then I'm ugly too. If you're a nut then I must be a screw…
She loses her balance. The quickening of her heart isn't something that she can control.
In contrast, Rachel stood by the entrance, looking around curiously. Her vision lands on the center booth. She feels her eyes water. There's one pink lily... And somehow, it means everything. She's rooted to her spot as a something rises from within her, pressing against her lungs and heart. The brunette can't quite speak or breathe. Finn did this?
At this moment Matt stumbled into the room. In his arms was a take out box with food. He had instructed the chefs to make something for the determined pianist. Quinn hadn't eaten all day. He notices the heavy atmosphere in the room. There's a surprised brunette by the door. The lanky boy has to admit that she wasn't as pretty as the blonde, but there was something in her personality that held your attention. Her hands were wringing behind her back. The waiter knows that the action is unconscious. There's a look of happiness in her eyes but it's coupled by a sense of despair. And he wonders if she knows.
His attention then switches to the softball player behind the stage. Her arms are crossed and she's motionless against the back wall. She doesn't hide because she's Quinn Fabray and the musical equipment partially obscures her presence. Matt followed her focused attention ahead. Her green eyes traced the shorter girl's features and a small smile tugged her lips. The ex-captain's frame is so rigid and there's so much restraint behind her expression. Everything in her stance suggests that she's caught in the fight or flight response. But, everything in her eyes told him that she was content where she was, just looking. The blonde's words echo in his mind Love doesn't let us down. A stab of sorrow emerges in his gut, he couldn't fathom whom she was afraid to disappoint in this scenario…
It takes minutes but finally he realizes his place. The waiter drops the takeout containers on a shelf and strides over to the brunette.
"Hello, my name is Matt, I'll be your waiter this evening. Your other party hasn't arrived yet but allow me to take you to your seat."
Surprised, a blush crawls across her face. Rachel wonders how long he's been there. Her mind is fixated on the feelings jumping across her spine from the moment she set foot into the establishment. It's thrilling but familiar. She doesn't quite understand, casting one last glance around the room. What was she looking for? Instead of dwelling, the brunette graciously slips her hand into the waiter's letting him lead her to the center table. The focus and interest in his eye is a little disarming, but she's instantly comfortable around him. He reminds her of someone…of safety…
/
Another hour passes and nothing has changed. Finn is still not there. Quinn is still behind the stage. She's been there every moment, watching as the singer's shoulders started to drop, as Rachel's smile morphed from genuine happiness to some kind of forced bravery. Her eyes have dulled a little, as she sat in the booth touching the lily. If the footballer had gone through all this trouble, she would wait. He was what she wanted... The diva's just not sure when that stopped being an implicit truth and turned into a mantra.When did that simple fact, become something she had to convince herself of at night? There's a low hum of machinery in the restaurant as time passes.
Brrrrrn!
The blonde's phone vibrates. Quinn looks down reading the message. Her face is stormy and her jaw tightens.
Quinn, I'm nearly there I swear. Can you keep Rach company? Please, she shouldn't be alone on her birthday. I'm nearly there. – Finn
Her fists clench. Breaths become a little bit shorter. She shouldn't be alone on her birthday. Then why wasn't the footballer here? Quinn wasn't their babysitter. This wasn't her responsibility. She didn't want to watch, anymore. The taller girl casts a glance at the girl in the booth. Rachel's back was slightly hunched as she continued to look around. She's still hopeful that Finn will appear. Quinn swallows the lump in her throat. The scene is unhappy and it's not how the blonde had planned it. Being here, seeing the changes in the shorter girl as she realized that her prince still wasn't here. It hurt a lot more than the softball player would admit. She thinks that she needs space.
No, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Rachel wasn't supposed to mean anything to her. I don't care… the thought crawls into her mind. It's also a lie. And for once, Quinn wonders how many she's told.
"Talk to her."
Matt sounds out from behind. He's wiping the equipment down. The blonde doesn't say anything. Her attention is completely on the dejected singer. She feels a hand on her arm and looks up. The waiter's expression is somber as he nods his head slightly in the direction.
"I think she's already been let down enough tonight, don't you?"
Yes...
But, Quinn just shrugs his hand away. A glassy look overtakes her green eyes and her arms are crossed. Her voice comes out as a soft mutter.
"That's not my problem…"
An exasperated sigh escapes Matt. The waiter is impatient as he goes to grab the take out boxes, handing it to the girl. It's a wake-up call.
"Then here, this your way out. Go. She's not looking at the door right now."
His expectant stare bores through the blonde. She takes a deep breath looking down at the Styrofoam container in her hands. It's a split-second decision that she'd rather not review. For the first time in a while Quinn remembers her self-preservation instincts. Her fingers tighten around the food. I don't care… She manages to make it to the door. The ex-cheerleader's hand is actually on the handle, when a soft voice comes from her left.
"Quinn?"
One word and the blonde's body refuses to move. She doesn't breathe. It's completely involuntary. It's also a battle that she's already lost. Green eyes meet brown. Something flashes across the diva's face as she tilts her head. They're both afraid to give it a name. Rachel's more energetic than she's been all night, life flooding her eyes once more.
"What are you doing here?"
"Getting some food. Mom had a craving for pad Thai."
Quinn lifts the box of food for show. It's a hollow gesture.
"Oh…"
The response is so soft that the ex-cheerleader falters. The brunette's smile dims as she nods slowly. Her frame starts to retreat again. There's an ache that she actually has to squash when she thinks about the blonde leaving. Her presence exuded safety and her parting caused pain. There was no logic to it. Rachel looked away. She's facing the table again and folding napkins. A whisper falls from her lips.
"Goodnight Quinn."
The finality in the statement jarred both girls. It's confronting in itself as thoughts of being alone enter both of their minds. The blonde tries to ignore it, pulling the door open. She doesn't walk through. The cold air ghosts across her face. Its calms the heat she feels under her skin. She was hesitating.
Rachel closes her eyes shivering her seat. She hears the door close and feels a stab in her gut. Her face falls into her hands as she takes a staggering breath. Suddenly the room seemed harsher. It feels like years have passed when the brunette finally opens her eyes.
Brown meets green.
Quinn is sitting on the other side of the booth. Her expression is unreadable as her fingers play an invisible song on the table. The relief that Rachel feel is overpowering and she can't comprehend why? She can feel her heart fluttering in her ribcage as she shifts in her seat. Unconsciously, she's leaning forward. Without a word, the ex-captain takes the abused napkin from her hand. Their hands graze on the way. The singer gasps and Quinn's freezes. The girl's both look up but they don't say anything. They don't need to. It's a silence that's completely theirs, comforting and familiar. Some minutes pass.
"Happy Birthday Berry."
The blonde's voice comes out, low and raspy. When Rachel looks down, there's a folded star placed in front of her. It was made from the restaurant's brown napkins. The diva's throat thickens as she moves her hands towards the creation. She's afraid to touch it. The singer's afraid that if she does something, this star, like this moment will fall apart.
After a while, her fingers inch closer, finally brushing along the objects edges. The brunette can feel the ex-cheerleader's gaze. A pause is taken and her hands go to hold it up. Surprisingly, it doesn't break…
She swallows. A smile appears. The spines of the object stick out chaotically much like Quinn's hair.
"Thanky – "
Rachel doesn't get to finish her sentence, as the room is suddenly dark. Outside the screeches of cars can be heard as people slammed on their emergency brakes. There's a commotion in the kitchen as pots and pans are dropped. Swearing can be heard. The brunette feels herself start to panic and her breathing quickens. She had never been a fan of the dark. It was an irrational fear from childhood. Her therapist said that it had something to do with the lack of a mother figure. However, her therapist also thought that she held some kind of resentment towards her fathers, so the diva didn't place much stock in it. Regardless, it didn't stop the anxiety that seeped in. Her pulse was racing. Instinctively, she searched the table, meeting a warm soft limb. There's deep measured breathing in the background. It's reassuring. The singer can't see but it's like she knows. Her hands slowly traced the limb to the palm; she was mapping the shape, the slight bump of the veins and the smoothness of the skin. The hand was upturned, open, expectant. Rachel slipped hers on top and Quinn squeezed in response. The singer feels the tension drain away. Her muscles relax and she's there again.
"Thank you."
It's pitch black but the brunette knows that the blonde has shrugged in response. The movement triggered a small shift in their hands, causing Rachel to unconsciously grasp tighter. A curious thought comes to mind.
"You knew…"
There's a sigh.
"That's not a question, Berry."
Quinn's voice is light and slightly mocking. It's another constant that they both hold on to. They don't need it to feel relaxed but they do need it to remind them of who they are and how they should be. That's something that they forget all too often. The brunette tilts her head.
"Why didn't you use that against me? It certainly would have been more effective."
A pause descends. The blonde has closed her eyes. Rachel thinks that she might not get an answer; she's worried that she had pushed the other girl too far. However a voice breaks the silence.
"…Because it's personal and it's a line I didn't cross. That and Santana would have made my life miserable. Brittany still sleeps with a night light."
In the dark, Rachel feels bold. Her hands go to play with the blonde's fingers. And surprisingly, Quinn doesn't pull back. She just let it happen. Thoughts and reason have no part in this because, in the dark, they find an excuse. The singer traces the softball player's index finger and brushes over the knuckles. The blonde's skin is soft and warm. The diva held a breath as she intertwines their fingers. Quinn leans back against the back of the booth. It fits. Without will, she turns their hands around. The brunette follows the motion. It's fluid; there are no clashes or clumsiness. They fit. The touch means more than they know how to express. It was another memory that would be filed away, after the fact. Sometime, when they're alone, they might revisit it and smile.
Thump. They hear a drop. It's a few seconds before they see a flickering of a reddish light. A candle is held up and they see Matt was brush the dirt from his apron. Disheveled, he looks a little sheepish. His brow crinkled in concentration.
"Hey, girls. I finally dug up some candles from the back. I don't know how safe it is considering they've gone slightly green but what ever works, right?"
The waiter turns around to set more candles up around the room. He doesn't say much. It's only when they're alone again that the girls realize that their hands are still together. And it's no longer dark. Their gaze falls to the middle. The lighting is soft and precarious. Only four candles illuminated the room. Shadows move across their faces, revealing something different each time. It's in these moments that they don't know what to do. Rachel's brown eyes are more expressive, warmer. Quinn's features are softer, less controlled. But, like an unspoken agreement their hands break apart.
The blonde stands to help the waiter adjust the small wax torches. She needs to think. It's an excuse that the brunette appreciates as well. Because, in the light? The footballer is on both of their minds. Matt passes the ex-cheerleader a small battery operated radio. There's a crackle as the device tries to find a signal. Rachel rubs her hand against her neck as she turned away. Her gaze lingered on the dance floor.
"Hey, hey listeners! As you should all know, Lima is currently experiencing a rolling blackout. Rest assured it's nothing serious but they need to do a bit of maintenance before they can return power. So relax, sit tight and enjoy the mix we've created…"
For a second it's the only sound in the room before the start of a song plays. It's slow. Quinn thinks she might recognize it.
Can you tell me how we got in this situation?
I can't seem to get you off my mind
They both look up, glancing at each other. The blonde doesn't move and Rachel can't break away. The brunette's head sways lightly to the music. It was a beautiful song. The empty space in the room has never been as obvious as it was right now. The singer takes a sad look around. She wonders where Finn is. It didn't make sense to set this up and not come.
All these ups and downs they
They trip up our good intentions
Quinn exhales resignedly, pushing off from her position. Rachel's eyes follow her every step. Eventually the softball player is standing in front of her, holding her hand out. She's looking everywhere else but at the short singer in front of her.
Nobody said this was an easy ride…
They don't really say anything. Rachel simply stands and takes a step closer. The blonde's arms automatically find her waist and hand. And like the first time, they can't quite control the shivers that erupt. They start to move like they have been dancing together all their life. Quinn's voice is low as she starts to sing along. To the brunette, it is the only sound that exists.
After all, we're only human
Always fighting what we're feeling
Hurt instead of healing
The blonde brings them into a little turn. The world doesn't fall away or suddenly disappear. It's still very much there but the girls, they lose the will to care. The steps they had to take, meant nothing. The continuous buzzing of the kitchen fridge meant nothing. Rachel leaned her head into the hollow where the blonde's neck met her shoulder. Her lips were millimeters from pale skin. Quinn could quickly feel her senses tuning to that one area.
After all we're only human
Is there any other reason?
Why we stay instead of leaving
After all
It wasn't choreographed but they could read each other's movements. The diva twirled away and when she returned their bodies were pulled flush against each other, closer than before. Nothing really occurs in their minds, McKinley, Finn, even glee club. For whatever reason, they had this moment and it was enough. For one song, it would be that simple.
Quinn takes a step back so that she can see the singer's brown orbs. The action is intuitive.
Can we get back to the point in this conversation?
Where we saw things through each other's eyes
Cause now all I see is ruin and devastation
Her voice breaks as her breath catches. There's so much emotion behind the song and they think they understand why. Rachel's eyes widen at the words. Her hands grip a little tighter. They're still moving. Somehow, they manage to avoid all the stray chairs and boxes.
We all need some place we can hide inside
The connection is broken and once again the brunette's head rests against the blonde. The diva can feel the vibrations of the softball player's chest as she sings the notes. Quinn was strong but not unyielding. Matt watches the interaction from the kitchen door. He wonders if this moment will change anything.
After all, we're only human
Always fighting what we're feeling
Hurt instead of healing
After all we're only human
Is there any other reason?
Why we stay instead of leaving
I'm smart enough to know that life goes by
And it leaves a trail of broken hearts behind
If you feel I'm letting go, just give me time
The blonde feels a faint wetness reach her neck. Rachel is quietly shaking in her arms. Swallowing, she forces herself to keep going. The words were affecting the both of them. Quinn found herself singing the words that she had never expected to feel, let alone say.
I'll come running to your side
Their movements start to slow. It's the song's interlude. They both use this time to think. They both try to stop, but they can't. Quinn takes a deep breath, brushing a stray dark strand behind the brunette's ear. Rachel has a small smile on her face as she looks down. A turn. A twirl. And a step back.
Can you tell me how we got into this situation?
I can't seem to get you off my mind
After all, we're only human
Always fighting what we're feeling
Hurt instead of healing
After all we're only human
Is there any other reason?
Why we stay instead of leaving
Their breathing slows. Unconsciously they both move closer. Quinn tilts her head down leaning her forehead against the brunette's. The touch is soft and places no demands. It's just the sharing of space and air. Both their eyes are closed and they just dance...
After all, we're only human
Always fighting what we're feeling
Hurt instead of healing
After all we're only human
Is there any other reason?
Why we stay instead of leaving
Vaguely, Quinn hears an opening of a door.
After all...
Any other reason
Stay instead of leaving.
The ceiling lights start to flicker and the sound of the generator comes back on. In an instant, the spell is broken. Abruptly, Rachel feels the warmth being ripped away. The loss is so acute that her breathing stops. The blonde has moved back and was looking at the door with a practiced intensity. Bewildered the diva turned around.
There's a silence as the world returns. The song is over and it's no longer simple.
One the other side of the room, Finn stood with a bouquet of pink lilies. He's winded and sweating through his white shirt. The boy has an apologetic look on his face as he tries to catch his breath. Before anything can be said, Quinn walks over griping his arm, whispering angrily.
"Where were you? You're more than an hour late! It's not even dinnertime anymore."
Finn seems to falter a bit before turning behind his back. He produced a large carnival bear identical to the one Quinn had won. Suddenly, the blonde feels as if someone was standing on her chest. Her head is pounding with thoughts. The footballer's smile was goofy and proud.
"This was why I was late Quinn. I heard that the carnival was a few towns away from Indiana. On the Internet it said they were making a circuit track. I think that means it's going in a circle or something but I got Puck to drive me there. You see, on our first date, Rachel really wanted this bear but I couldn't win it for her – "
"So you spent the last week playing the game to get it for her…"
The blonde interrupted. Her tone was soft and distant. Finn noticed but didn't say anything, only nodding his head. He had done well, hadn't he? Finally, the ex-captain's mouth opens to say something but nothing comes out. She places a hand on the footballer's arm and looks up.
"Congratulations… you don't need me anymore, Finn."
The tall boy blushes, holding her gaze.
"Thank you."
The softball player waves it off, walking out the door. Her movements are slightly robotic. When she's outside she lets herself take a deep shuddering breath. The pressure in her chest hasn't disappeared, only appearing to get worse. She takes a look through the glass of the door. Rachel was in the footballer's arms. Quinn can't see her face but she imagines that she's happy. It was a dedicated gesture on Finn's part.
Inside, Rachel buries her face in the tall baritone's chest. She can't bring herself to look up because she's afraid that her eyes might betray something. Her other hand clutches the stuffed toy. To any outsider she imagines that they'll think she's crying from happiness. Her gaze lands on the abandoned takeout boxes on the center table. She can't comprehend why but her chest aches, so much.
/
Rachel's eighteenth birthday becomes a night of firsts.
It's the first time Quinn doesn't feel any pride or sense of achievement from her actions. There's only a sinking feeling in her stomach that makes it hard to concentrate, to function…
It's the first time Rachel feels wrong in the footballer's arms, the boy she's adored for as long as she could remember. Tonight, she's suffocated, trapped…
Outside, the blonde makes it to her car. In the back seat lay a large stuffed bear; identical to the one the footballer had just presented to the singer. Quinn ran her fingers through her hair agitatedly. Her thoughts and her feelings were pulling her every which way, and she couldn't control it. She couldn't clear her thoughts. She couldn't breathe. Looking down at the carnival toy she wonders why she has it. Had she really had the intention to give it to the shorter girl or was it just her back up plan in case Finn failed? She released a snicker as she looked up to the sky. It didn't really matter, because that night he did what the she would have done.
It's the first time Finn has gotten everythingright without any assistance. He's finally learnt how toexpress himself...
That night both girls got what they wished for. Rachel had the Finn she had always envisioned. Quinn got her freedom. And it couldn't have hurt more because in the end, it wasn't what any of the girls had actually wanted. But they've already paid the cost.
/
Quinn moves to get into her car however before she does, a little boy runs into her. The blonde's arms quickly move to steady the child. His mother can be heard repeating apologies in the distance as she tried to catch up.
"Hello, I'm so sorry. I just took this little tyke, here, out to dinner and now he's all geared up for ice cream. I hope he didn't hurt you."
"No it's fine."
The softball player waved away the concerns. Smiling gently, she kneeled down to the little boy's level. He seems to tilt his head inquisitively. Briefly the blonde wonders if her feelings show on her face. Maybe he could tell her, maybe he could help her understand. Children had a way of seeing things that adults so often overlooked. She meets his gaze.
"You shouldn't run on the streets too much. I'm Quinn, what's your name?"
The sandy brown haired child puffed out his chest.
"Eric."
Quinn shook his small hand. He couldn't be that much younger than Sam's little sister. She notices how his eyes seem to be glued to the back of her car. The boy runs to his mother.
"Mommy, she had the giantest teddy bear ever. I want it. Please mommy, I really want it."
The mother seems to blush, embarrassed by her son's loud demands. She looks up imploringly to the blonde, taking out her wallet.
"I'm so sorry but is there any way you could sell that bear to me? Eric seems to be crazy about it."
There's a gap, as the ex-cheerleader reaches for the stuffed animal. Her hand runs through its soft fur. The smell of Rachel Berry is entrenched in the fibers. It makes her head swim. Her mind is still reeling from the night's events. She thinks that she needs distance. She thinks that ridding herself of the bear is the first step. But, it's a decision that she will come to regret, because from that night onwards she barely sleeps.
"It's fine. I'm too old for stuffed animals anyway."
She places the teddy into the mother's shocked arms and goes back to her car.
"Are you sure?"
The woman's voice cuts across the night. Quinn shakes her head, looking to the sky. Her whisper gets lost in the wind.
"No. I'm not…"
/
Quinn goes home that night. She's on autopilot. Keys go into the lock. The door is opened and she makes her way up the stairs. It's all she knows how to do. The blonde ignores the curious look on her mother's face and walks into her room. It's pitch black. She remembers a different life in the dark. But, like the events of the day she turns the lights on because nobody stayed in the shadows forever. Especially when you were destined to be on a Broadway stage.
She sits at her piano and music starts to flow. She imagines that this is the music the footballer and the diva would be dancing to. It was the song she wrote. She didn't mean it at the time, but she questions whether that is still true now. It's the second time she sings with the shorter girl in mind.
Did I really need her, was it just a sweet dream
That lingers in the morning, like a melody
Over and over, all through the day,
I can't stop thinkin' 'bout how I'm feeling this way'
Quinn closes her eyes. She knows the song off by heart.
She moves like sea breeze, swirling around me
The fragrance that she leaves hangs in the air
Soft like a whisper, she's calling me to her,
These eyes have seen the most beautiful dream
Bit by bit, the pressure in her chest starts to relieve itself. She's completely immersed. For once, she's not looking for an exit because she can acknowledge that she needs this. She needs to get the words out.
My friends have told me, fortune loves the brave
Bullshit... what's going on between you and the dwarf... You know that you can't hide behind Finnocence for this one...
We started talking and I couldn't break away
Why not? I've been awful to you.
I made plans to meet tonight keeping you near
She likes to dance…
And when midnight strikes I have nothing to fear
What are you so scared of Quinn…the future…when all of this is gone…
She moves like sea breeze, swirling around me
The fragrance that she leaves hangs in the air
Soft like a whisper, she's calling me to her
These eyes have seen the most beautiful dream
The softball player is not quite there anymore. Quinn is in a place where music protects her from everything else. The blonde doesn't notice the older Fabray standing curiously by the staircase. Judy is afraid to get any closer but she could hear the singing from downstairs. She realizes that she's never seen her daughter be so sincere, so conflicted.
To my surprise, oh,
She took my heart with one look in her eye
To a place that feels like home
The words are clear, with no room for error. Judy should be surprised but she isn't. The older woman is just concerned. Quinn wasn't equipped to deal with emotions like these and that's partly her fault. She knows that. It's a wonder the ex-captain is as strong as she is. That's something Russell and Judy Fabray can't take credit for.
She moves like sea breeze, swirling around me
The fragrance that she leaves hangs in the air
She moves like sea breeze, swirling around me
The fragrance that she leaves hangs in the air
Judy watches silently. Through the music, she shares her daughter's grief and confusion. Quinn takes a deep breath. Her fingers play barely there notes. It's her voice that stands out.
Soft like a whisper, she's calling me to her
These eyes have seen the most beautiful dream
Soft like a whisper, she's calling me to her
These eyes have seen the most beautiful dream
The blonde stops playing. She moves to the design on her wall. Her hand meets the black outlines. The star and the Cheerio… The last line is sung with a tortured certainty.
These eyes have seen the most beautiful dream.
/
Sniff. I feel so bad for Quinn at this point in time. When she's finally got it, so has Finn. Rachel also realizes that she's not happy. Major case of too little too late. I like Matt. Santana and Brittany are awesome but I think he brings something else that Quinn can't ignore.
Review! XD…nah I won't make you. But if you have any thoughts… ;)