A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews! I was seriously blown away by the amount of them! Much appreciated! Truly!

Oh, and I chose this chapter title because 'Start' both means a beginning and something of a shock, which I found fitting. ;]

As you lift the lasagna, plates and cutlery out of the box, Quinn walks along the edge of the roof, looking over the life below. It's quiet up here, the constant noise of card driving past nullifying itself over time, only screeching tires, sirens and a horn breaking the silence every now and then. You watch her peer over the edge, hands shoved deep in her pockets, shoulders hunched up slightly. You get to look at her for a few seconds before she notices your gaze and catches it. You use the opportunity to call her over.

"Come on, I brought food." She comes jogging over in a lazy pace. Hands still in her pockets, she sits down next to you and regards the plates.

"I was beginning to wonder what was in that box," she tells you.

"Not whether I had brought any food at all?"

"No," she shrugs, "I actually was expecting some place inside."

"You wanted a restaurant."

"I was expecting a restaurant."

"What is the difference?"

"That this is simply not what I was expecting, but not necessarily worse." You can't help but smile at that.

"So you don't think this is terrible?"

"I never said that." You shove her shoulder. She laughs at you.

"No, don't let me hurt your feelings, it's pretty cool out here. I didn't even know you could get up here. How did you know you could get up here?"

"My father works here."

"Which one?"

"Papa. Hiram," you tell her. She hums in understanding before taking the first bite of her lasagna. You watch as her eyes widen in surprise and a fitting sound escapes her.

"It's warm!"

"Of course it is," you tell her, disappointed in the cause of her excitement, "What else would this gigantic box be good for?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. I didn't know it contained food. Which, by the way, is delicious." Ah, there it is. That's what you were waiting (hoping) for.

"Why, thank you. I'm sure my fathers will be pleased to hear it."

"Hmm," she agrees, humming because her mouth is full. She makes a face as she swallows the food down before answering you. "Do tell them. This is amazing. I didn't -"

You hold up your hand. "Please don't finish that sentence. Don't put yourself in the same category as Finn." Her face contorts at this.

"Ooh, no thank you very much. Thanks for the warning," she tells you, placing her hand over her heart, "But all jokes aside, for something I know is vegan, it's a lot better than I ever dreamed it would be."

"Why are all of you people so afraid of vegan food?" you question, throwing your hands up.

"Rachel," Quinn starts slowly, "Have you ever tasted that ice cream substitute you tried to feed us?"

"Well, yes, of c-"

"It's disgusting." She levels you with a gaze that leaves no room for questioning. Like this is the truth, the only truth and nothing but the truth.

"Oh. Well." There's not much more you can say to that, so you poke at your food a little with your fork.

"This, on the other hand," Quinn pipes up again, "Is truly delicious." She searches for your eyes in order to convey the truth behind her words, and you feel yourself flush at their sincerity. You look away from her and focus on your food again in the hopes that she didn't notice it, but alas, she did. The sound of her laughter fills the night sky, and you feel the dragon in your chest stir. But she choses not to comment on it, and you thank her silently.

You finish before she does, and after you've put the plate back in the box, you ponder watching her while you wait, but you decide against it. Even for you, that's a little obnoxious, not to mention creepy and uncomfortable. So you stand up and walk over to the ego of the building. The wind here is harsher, and therefore you immediately feel colder. You shove your hands in your pockets and watch the cars below drive by.

For a moment you realise that every one of those cars have people driving in them, and that all of those people have lives of their own. They have a home to go home you, a job to tend to in the morning, a destination they're driving to, thoughts of their own, just like you do. All those people have a story just like yours. Well, not exactly like yours, but a story that is completely their own. A life of their own. And that makes you feel insignificant. But at the same time, you feel one with all those people below, and therefore part of the world, and therefore large, because the world is part of the universe, and so are you.

Without a sound, Quinn appears next to you, standing in a similar position. Shoulder to shoulder you watch over the world below, over the sea of light that comes with civilization.

"Don't you ever think it's strange that of all species in the world, we are the only one that resides truly everywhere?"

You turn to look at her, but she doesn't return your gaze. She remains standing on your right, eyes fixed on something you don't know. The light coming from below hits her with an angle you haven't seen before, highlighting her cheekbones and brows. It lightens up her eyes so curiously, like they're a deep golden, almost orange, but too pale.

You switch your gaze back to the city below you.

"No," you tell her honestly, "I've never thought of that before."

"Because it seems so natural?"

"I don't know. But I suppose so, yes. We don't know any better than to have humans live everywhere on this planet, that we cannot phantom the idea not to. Yet, once you really think about it, we're the only species that have managed to travel to every single continent without adapting so much that we can no longer be called the same species."

"Do you think that makes us superior?"

You ponder this for a moment.

"No."

From your peripheral vision you can see her smile.

"Do you?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because birds do this as well. Only birds choose to reside at one place for the winter, another for the summer. They could stay if they wanted. They could survive. But they don't. This instinct to return home when the season hits is the only thing that keeps them from living everywhere as well. They would still be able to fly back and maintain contact with the rest of their species on the other continents, and thereby avoid becoming so different they could no longer produce fertile spawn. They are able to live the same way we do, but they choose not to, and therefore, I do not think we are superior."

Your eyes never left her while she spoke. She had talked with such calmth, such logic and conviction that it had been too beautiful a sight to take your eyes off of, even if just for a moment. Your insides are swirling, an invisible hand reaching out of your chest to touch her, to hold her. To pull her close and kiss her temple, to tell her that she is amazing.

But her eyes find yours and you feel caught. You feel like you were interrupting something private, and got caught redhanded. You look away and check the time. Eight thirty.

"We should get going."

"What, there's more?" She's grinning sideways, not unlike the way Finn uses to do. Except she doesn't look clueless doing it. Instead, she looks confident, cunning and, if you're boing honest with yourself, downright irresistible. Yet you resist.

"Of course there is," you tell her, "You didn't think I would attempt to woo you with nothing but dinner on a rooftop, did you?"

She shrugs. "Well, the gesture was romantic enough," she wiggles her eyebrows at you and your insides turn to jelly, "And Finn would probably have left it at that."

He probably would. Just like he did with you. He took you to a romantic dinner and decided that was enough for one evening. Let's just pretend for a moment that there was no awkward ending to your make-out session. It's not like that was the main reason for your evening being cut short. He wouldn't have taken you anywhere, you're sure of that.

Anyway, you were going. Right.

You turn to pick up the box that's still sitting on the roof, seemingly oblivious to Quinn's frown when you don't answer her. You're not oblivious though. You could never be oblivious to anything she does when she's in a fourty feet radius from you. She follows you silently inside. When you reach the elevator, she is ahead of you and presses the button before you can reach for it, the box in your ams having slowed you down. This time, she's the one rocking on her heels. You roll your eyes and smile to yourself at her childlike behaviour. She notices it and smiles at it.

Faux subtle she leans to the side a bit and whispers, "If I were still anxious, would you hold my hand again?"

One day, she'll kill you. You're certain of it.

"I would if you asked me to."

"Only if I asked you to?"

"Yes."

The mischievous smile on her face is unmistakable. "Will you?"

"No."

She pouts. "Why not?"

"Because you're not anxious."

Her mouth drops open in mock offense, but she smiles shortly after and follows you inside the elevator that has reached you and opened by now.

"Touche, Berry. Touche."

"Thank you."

Silence falls for a moment. Then, a whisper fills the air and you can't suppress a smile.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Not telling."

"Why not? I mean, we're going there now. We'll be there in a couple of minutes, you can just as well tell me."

"Well, then you can just as well wait those couple more minutes."

Her pout is spectacular and she sulks all the way to the car. Even when inside the car, she slumps in her seat, pulls up her shoulders and faces away from you.

"You're acting like a child, you know that?"

No response. You lean closer.

"I'll hold your hand."

The huff of breath sells her out, and you lean back in your seat satisfied as she is now openly smiling and lightly shaking her head.

"You're unbelievable."

You smile to yourself. "Well, it worked, didn't it?"

"I'll keep you to it though. Just so you know."

You gasp playfully as you move the car back on the road. "What is it with you and holding my hand?"

"It's tiny, it's amazing how you can have such tiny little hands."

You blindly smack her and hear the muffled 'ow' following the blow.

"Oh, don't be a baby, you're wearing a coat. That didn't hurt."

"Did too!"

"Oh, it didn't and you know it."

"Nah, it didn't. I barely felt it." You can hear the cocky grin in her voice.

Smack.

"Ow, that one did hurt. Try to avoid the face next time, will you?"

"You deserved it."

"Maybe, maybe not. Just remember payback's a bitch."

"There will be no payback."

"Says you."

"Yes, says I, and who is the one paying for your evening and driving you around?" The reply doesn't come. "Exactly, that's me as well. And you know I don't do things half baked. So, I will repeat: there will be no payback."

You hear a grumble next to you.

"I'm sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of me being right."

"Okay, okay, no payback."

"That's what I thought. Now, please sit up straight and wipe that scowl off your face? I know you're enjoying this." From the corner of your eye you can see her smile. "Thank you, now get ready, we're almost there."

You turn the corner and into a small alley. Well, it's not really an alley, but it's not really a street either. There are two more cars parked, and you maneuver yours next to them. Ahead are double doors, one open, dim light shining through it onto the pavement. You turn off the engine and undo your seatbelt. Next to you, Quinn does the same.

"Um, Rachel, where are we?" she asks you timidly, but you shush her as you lock the doors of your car. "Seriously, Rachel, what is it with you and places that make my skin crawl?" You roll your eyes at her smiling and motion for her to follow you.

Inside is a man sitting behind a register, a wall of glass between you. He looks up when you enter.

"Hi, two tickets, on Berry." The guy types something into a computer and nods.

"Ah, right. You have ten minutes left. Theater two. You'll find it at the end of the hall on your right hand. Have a pleasant evening."

"Thank you," you chirp and leave walking down the hallway, Quinn following a couple of seconds behind, so she has to jog a few steps to catch up with you.

When you reach the end, there is a door with a large yellow 2 on it. You push it open to reveal a small theater, maybe fifty seats, completely empty. As you move to the seats and down the rows, Quinn stops dead in her tracks. You can practically hear the wheels turning in her head before she finds her voice again.

"Wait. Is this-?"

You smile and turn to face her.

"Les Int? Yes." A smile breaks through her features.

"Because I said we should watch it sometime but we didn't own it?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember everything I say to you?"

"Well, contradictory to what you may believe, I actually do listen to what people say to me, instead of just pretend to listen like most of you do. The fact that I hardly do anything with what people tell me is because has got more to do with the fact that I find their suggestions inaccurate or simply -"

"Thank you." She cuts you off, and for once, you don't feel the urge to hit a person when they cut you off, because no-one cuts off Rachel Berry. Unless they are Quinn Fabray speaking to you in barely anything more than a whisper, managing to show you more emotion than screaming could ever have dreamt of achieving.

You both stand motionless in the dark theater, eyes locked on each other, the silence thick. You would have expected a shiver of desire to run down your spine, but it doesn't. Instead, a gentle warmth spreads through you, numbing you from your core to the tips of your fingers. It's a pleasant kind of numbing though, like when your hands have grown so cold they're painful and numb, and then start defrosting again. That kind of warmth. You still want to reach out to her, to have empiric evidence that this is real, that she is actually here, willing to sit through a movie with you.

The lights in the room dim even further, and the both of you startle and look around bewildered before you realise what is happening and plop down in the best seats in the room, because there's no-one else there to want the seats.

"How is it this place is still running? There is nobody here."

"Every once in a while, they hold some kind of cultural festival of some sorts. That's when loads of people come here, and they live the rest of the year of the money they make then. It's not really a place people decide to come when they feel like watching a movie, but I like it here. It's not so commercial, and it's peaceful."

You hear her hum next to you, but before she can say anything, the beamer is turned on and light fills the screen. The red logo of Gaumont fills the screen, while everything falls completely silent. Then, a few soft notes of a piano break the silence, and you instantly recognize the melody. It's Fly. You move to tell Quinn, but obviously she knows, and shushed you with a single touch on your forearm.

Childlike excitement floods through you, but it is quickly replaced by the peaceful feeling that Ludovico's music always seems to bring you. The film truly begins, and you're instantly intrigued by the opening scene, where the main characters are pulled over for speeding, after which the driver tells the passenger "200 they're gonna escort us". And they do. They get an escort.

It's a French film, and literally everything about it shows it proudly. The plot twist in the beginning was something you'd never have seen coming, and you love it. You're immediately interested and the film does not disappoint. It turns out to be a perfect combination of humour and tragedy, and you become so invested with the characters and the lives this film gives them that you have this empty feeling when it ends. It's a feeling that asks you 'and now what?'. Because they managed to make you feel like you were living in the film, and then the film ended.

You both sit through the end credits in silence. Only when the lights fully turn on again do you realize they expect you to get up at some point, and you run a hand over your face in an attempt to wake yourself up. Next to you, Quinn is running her hand through her hair, her eyes closed and eyebrows raised in that typical 'I'm tired and trying to wake up' fashion. You think she looks adorable.

Neither of you said a word during the film, and now, you're left staring at each other like you only just remembered you weren't alone. This is untrue. At several points through the movie you wanted to reach over and find physical contact, in whatever way possible. You just wanted to touch her, to share the moment with her.

In the end, it had been Quinn who shifted. She had swung her legs over each other, turning a little in her seat. Her knees had ended up turning away from you, and you had felt disappointed. That was before her upper body had tilted toward you, resting her shoulder against yours, and from there, her upper ran until the elbow. It had been a casual touch, had it not been for the fact that she lingered there. For the remainder of the time she had sat leaning to the left, your upper arms resting warmly against each other.

She hadn't seemed to mind, maybe this was what generally happens when two friends watch a movie together. Maybe it isn't at all that weird to search for a connection with the other.

You had kept quiet, both reveling in and dying from the touch. The first five minutes it had set you on edge, because you had not been expecting it, and you didn't know what to do with it nor with yourself. You didn't know if she was expecting some kind of acknowledgement, for you to lean back or shift. In the end, you just stayed where you are. You didn't react to her, and after a few minutes you felt yourself relax into the touch. It had turned comforting, knowing that people searched for your comfort in that moment.

But now that moment was gone, and you find yourself unable to look at her, because when you do, you think of what could have happened, what you could have done. You could have leant into her, you could have lay your head to hers, you could have taken her hand. But you didn't.

You didn't do anything, and you feel betrayed by your own cowardice.

So instead of looking at her, you rise from the chair and turn to pick up your coat. You hear her do the same. The both of you walk out of the rows of chairs sideways, because they are too narrow to walk through normally. She exits first and holds the door open for you. You briefly dare to make eye-contact and nod in thanks. When you pass the lad behind the counter, you wish him a good night. He echoes back.

Before you move into the car, Quinn calls to you over the hood of the car.

"So, what did you think of it?" You can't help but smile at her attempt for conversation.

"I thought is was good," you tell her as you plop down in your seat. You feel her eye you, and when you look over she is watching you with this gaze that oozes 'are you kidding me?'

"What?"

"You thought it was good?" she echoes you, "That's it? That's all you can say about one of the best films I have seen in my life?"

"You know you just prompted me into a full-blown Rachel Berry speech about everything I thought about it, right?"

She nods. "I didn't expect anything less. Now lay it on me."

"Well, first of all, I thought the music was absolutely stunning. It was simple, but effective, and I actually believe that the simplicity of it all worked in its favor. I was also pleasantly surprised by the way we were shown insight in the lives of the main characters themselves. They were not just two human beings or characters on a screen, they were people, and you could relate to them, making the film feel more real. I could feel this could happen in real life, and yes, I know that it was based on a true story, but that information alone does not necessarily make a film believable. This one was believable, very much so in fact, and I think that's something the directors did brilliantly. I loved the way how they grew into this curious friendship without even noticing. I can't pinpoint when it happened either, it flowed over so fluently that I don't even think I would be able to find the turning point if I tried. I thought it brilliantly showed how sometimes we need someone else to make us live, and not just be alive, because that's what Phillipe needed. He was alive, but he wasn't truly living, and Driss gave that to him. I admit, not always in a way to be desired, I really thought the habit to start smoking and speeding just for fun was something they could easily have omitted or changed into something else, but at least he was reminded of how beautiful life can be and that it would be a shame to do nothing with it. They completed each other, in a way that most people don't find in this life, and I think that is a beautiful concept."

Quinn stares at you in silence, her gaze soft yet intense, and you don't know what to do with it. You notice how she slowly seems to let go of the air in her lungs. She keeps them empty for a few moments, her eyes never leaving you. It's unnerving, and you feel a shiver run down your spine, lingering in your tailbone.

"What?" you ask her, "You wanted more, so I gave you more. Stop looking at me like that."

A curious little smile makes its way onto her face. "Like what?"

You shrug, "I don't know. You tell me. What is this look you're giving me?"

"This?" She points at herself, smile growing larger. "This is me not knowing how to react because I can feel myself swooning over a film description." You can't help but snort at this.

"You're swooning over my film description," you say, it's just as much of a question as it is a statement. When Quinn nods yes and shrugs with it a little, a huffing laugh makes its way up your windpipe and you facepalm.

"What?" You hear her ask next to you.

"I just can't believe this," you huff, "I fail at pretty much everything I do, I'm constantly on edge because you unnerve me -"

"I unnerve you?" God, you can hear the smile in her voice.

"Of course you do," you lift your face from your hand and lock on her, conveying all your seriousness, "You're Quinn Fabray. I don't know who to be around you, yet you constantly make me want to prove myself to you. But I don't know how."

"Then stop trying."

"What?"

"Stop trying to be anyone. Just be you, that shouldn't be so hard, right?"

"But what if you start disliking me again?" She cracks a smile.

"Nah, I think you'll be fine. Now, do you plan on driving me home or are we just going to keep sitting in a car in this strange little alley?"

Rolling your eyes you ignite the ignition and the engine instantly roars back to life.

"Thank you."

"You know," you tell her while you drive off again, "You don't necessarily have to be this sassy all the time, you know?"

"Why wouldn't I be? Have you seen the reaction you just gave me? It's priceless."

"You know, I had this final little thing planned for you, but if you're going to act like this, I might ju-"

"No! No, no, okay, I'll shut up. I'm sorry." She sags back in her seat and stays quiet for a second or two before asking, "What is it?" You feel the need to facepalm again.

"I'm not telling you, it'd take away the element of surprise."

"You don't need the element of surprise."

"Yes I do,"

"If it's good enough, the element of surprise is completely unnecessary."

"No, not in this case."

"Then it's not so good. Whatever it's supposed to be."

"Oh, trust me, it'll blow your mind."

"Then why would you even risk me going on and not being able to blow my mind?"

"Because then only you would be the one that didn't get anything from it. I could always blow your mind some other time."

"You could lose the opportunity to woo me."

"Aren't you wooed yet?"

"Not since you told me there's something else."

"So this is the final test?"

"You can look at it that way, yes."

"Well then, I think I'll be fine."

The both of you sit in silence until the end of the drive. When you pull over in front of her gate, silence envelops you.

"Will there be study group tomorrow?"

"Nah, I think I'll cancel it. I don't really feel like studying. Plus," she points outside to the clouded over sky, "There's a storm coming." The smile she gives you is childlike and jubilant and you find yourself mashing your lips together hard to suppress a gigawatt smile.

"And you," you poke her in her upper arm, "Should be going."

"You're not going to walk me to my door?"

"No."

"But you had this thing?"

"That's exactly why I'm not coming with you. Now off you go." You make a shooing motion with your hands. She squints her eyes at you mendaciously but eventually gets out of the car. She turns back before she moved through the gate, waving at you. You wave back and before she can get all the way through the gate, you roll the window down and yell after her, "Good night! And don't do anything rash tonight! It's late!"

When she frowns at you not understanding, you just wave again before pulling up and driving off again. You force yourself not to think about what she might do when she finds the gardenia poised out by her front door. You placed it there when you picked her up, but out of sight, so that you can only see it when you walk up to the house, and now away from it.

You've deliberately switched off your mobile, because you're sure there will be a call or several text, but you really just want her to sleep over it a night.

You hope she sleeps tonight. You wouldn't want to be responsible for her lack of sleep.

When you get home, your fathers are sitting on the couch in the living room, watching tv. You don't recognise the show they're watching, but then again, you never watch tv, you prefer the laptop and the wonders the internet provides you with.

"Hi honey," your dad calls, "How was your evening?"

"It was good," you tell them, but you don't feel like going into it that much. Before you walk up the stairs, you remember, and call, "Oh, and if there is an unknown number calling, don't pick up!" You can practically see your fathers looking at each other with shocked expressions and you smile to yourself as you make your way to your room.

The following morning you have practically forgotten about what you left behind last night. You remember taking Quinn to the roof of Lima's hospital and taking her to Les Intouchables and your surprise attack, but the fact that it was all real somehow has trouble getting through to you. You know it happened, but you don't feel it.

It's half past eight and you're working out on your elliptical. You're keeping a good pace, because you got a good night's sleep yesterday. You went to bed immediately after you came home, and since it was late, but not that late, you are now fully rested. Movie soundtracks are playing away in your ears. They generally have really strong beats, as long as they're soundtracks to powerful movies, like The Lord Of The Rings series or Inception, an therefore being comfortable songs to run or just generally work out to.

Outside, a storm is raging. Quinn hadn't been mistaken when she had said so yesterday. There is no thunder, but that doesn't make the weather any less intimidating. The sky is still dark, giving you the feeling that the sun hasn't properly risen yet and aggressive rain and powerful gusts of wind are tormenting the house. You like that phrase, aggressive rain, it's oddly accurate for the type of rain. There is rain that drizzles, that somas down in curtains that soak you to the bone while making this constant white noise, but there is also rain that comes in gusts, with large drops that sound painfully on the roof. It sounds like its sole purpose is to break your house down, and when you think of it that way, it's a pitiful rain, because it will never succeed.

The music in your ears is loud, so you cancel out the noise of the rain falling, except for those few seconds in between numbers. Those are the moments you take your eyes off the wall that is dedicated to your dreams and shift them to the window to see how mother nature's mood is. It's still very foul. You think it may last all day. You sigh a little and take your eyes off the window again, letting then drift back to the wall. Only this time, they fall on something in your room that wasn't there before.

Quinn is standing in your door opening, completely soaked, in a running outfit.

"Quinn," you breathe out, still not really over the shock of her standing in your room so suddenly. You didn't even know she knew where you lived. Your eyes drift to the flower in her hand and you open your mouth to say something, but she holds up her hand while closing her eyes and setting her jaw, and you know that it's best not to say anything right now.

You watch as the takes a couple of deep breaths before opening her eyes again and leveling you with a gaze so intense and dark that you literally feel yourself shrinking. You feel your back hunch over and your head pull itself back between your shoulders. There is an aggressive swirling in your stomach wanting to comfort her, to tell her you're sorry, that it was the wrong thing to do, anything to get back the Quinn from yesterday, but you know she would push you away. Then she speaks, her voice strained.

"Did you -" You see a few droplets of water fall from the short strands of hair. "The corsage?" Your eyes slip closed at the disbelieving and hurt quality of her voice, and guilt tosses you into a dark abyss. But you can't lie anymore. She's found it, and she knows what it means. The only reason she's here is because she needs you to confirm that it is real. And so you nod.

As you do so, you hear her sharp and strained exhale and the smallest of whimpers escape her. You daren't look up at her. Then there is the fluttering of paper and the sound of footsteps moving away from you. A door slams closed. The picture falls into your line of sight.

Like a tap on your shoulder you shake from your paralyzed state and rush downstairs. Without thinking you're out the door, forgetting your coat and keys, only wearing shoes because you already wearing them for your work out. You don't think, you just run purely on instinct. You know she came running because of her outfit, so you rush past the car and come to a stop on the middle of the road, checking both sides, not caring about cars being able to hit you, not caring about the harsh rain that hits you painfully hard. A flash of red catches your attention, and you're off without giving yourself time to think this over again.

She is standing on the field across the street, unmoving. As you come closer, you see that she has her eyes closed, her head dropped, arms hanging limply by her side. Something about it unnerves you, and you slow down when you come within five meters of her. You carefully walk the remaining distance, as if there are mines buried everywhere and one misstep could blow the both of you up. You suppose that, figuratively speaking, that is actually the case here. The earth beneath your feet is mushy from the rain, and sounds like it. You reach out to put a hand on her shoulder.

"Why did you do it?" Your hand twitches at the sound of her voice, but you reach no further. Instead, your hand is now hovering in the empty space between you, just like her words.

"Because I could. Finn didn't know what to do, and I did, so I helped. I just- I wanted you to at least have that."

She whips around and faces you, her jaw set, her eyes pleading.

"Why is it," she asks, "That the only thing that was good about that prom comes from you? Why you? Why are you everywhere all the time? Why do you even care?"

You shrug helplessly. "I don't know," you tell her, "I just do." Despite your guilt mercilessly coursing through your veins, you still feel a pang of affection when she says that you were responsible for the only good thing that evening. But then again, you probably also were the cause of everything that made her night miserable.

"I just-" she begins, but she looks like she has no idea how she's going to end that sentence, restlessly looking around, never really focusing on anything to look at. "I just don't know what to feel anymore." You look at her in silence.

"I want to be angry with you because you seem to leave your mark everywhere, but I don't know whether I want you to stop leaving your mark everywhere, because I've grown to like you. And I want to feel happy that you got the corsage and not Finn, but I feel like you lied to me by doing so and that hurts me. And I hate that you can hurt me like this, because I never wanted you to and I never expected that you would be able to do so either, and I just don't know anymore Rachel." God, she looks absolutely devastated.

You want to say something, you want to touch her, to hug her, to tell her it's okay, but you want to lift the mood, and you don't feel trying any of those things will accomplish that.

"So you decided it was a great idea to go running in a storm, now?"

A small twitch at the corners of her mouth. Success. Even though her expression instantly returns to one of hurt and confusion. She'll get there. You'll get her there.

"I like being out in storms, it calms me down." You laugh a little at that.

"Come on," you say, "Let's go home." You place your hand on her upper arm in encouragement, and wait for her to move before doing so yourself. When she passes you, you move to lift your hand, but she covers it with hers and gives it a little squeeze.

"Thank you."

You smile at her and she releases your hand, enabling you to remove it from her arm. Together you walk back to your front porch. It reminds you of that time she took you to the park.

When you get inside, you notice you're both shivering from the rain. You look at each other and laugh a little.

"Do you want your hot cocoa now or after you've showered?"

She frowns at that. "I didn't know I was showering here."

"Of course you are. Have you seen yourself? And before you turn all smart on me, you've ran here and then decided to go stand in a storm, and I only followed you out to get you back in, so you're worse than I am. Ergo, you need a shower." She inclines her head in admission.

"In that case, after."

You smile. "Okay then."

After you've taken off your shoes you lead her upstairs and send her into your bathroom so she can drip on the tiles instead on your floor. Cleans easier. While she watches you, you miraculously find two other sweatpants, one of which is your father's. Your daddy has trouble remembering which sweats are yours and which are your papa's, and in this case, you're glad for it. You throw her your papa's sweats and an oversized hoodie. You kind of collect those for occasions like these. Not that you lend them to people often, but stormy days in which you stay in all day to watch movies and drink hot chocolate. Which is exactly what you will be doing.

Quinn catches them both graciously and dumps them on the chair. You smile at the familiar gesture, only this time it's coming from someone else. It's like you're watching yourself in third person, only different, because you are fully aware of the face that you're not watching yourself. You can't really explain it.

"I'll be taking my father's bathroom, okay?" She nods and shrugs, and you don't really know why you decided to tell her that, it was useless information. When you turn your back to her to get to your laptop you roll your eyes at yourself.

"Why are you getting the laptop?"

"I'm going to watch a film."

"Which one?" To tell the truth or not to tell the truth. That's the question. You never did finish the first Harry Potter, because you needed the rest of the day to prepare for the evening, so you were going to continue where you left off.

"The first Harry Potter?"

"No, you're not."

"What? Why?"

"Because we're gonna have a marathon. Let me call my mother. Can I use your phone for a minute?" But before you can answer her, she's already crossed your room to your nightstand and is dialing a number.

"Oy," you yell, "Get back in the bathroom! You're ruining my floor!" She bounces back, phone still at her ear. She grins at you from the door opening and sticks out her tongue while she waits for someone to answer her call. It proves difficult not to flush, but you manage it anyway. Instead, you roll your eyes at her before picking up your own sweats and pointing over your shoulder to the hallway. She follows your train of thought and nods, while you see her posture change. She looks away from you and stands up straighter than before. Apparently her mother has picked up the phone.

After Quinn has greeted her, she is interrupted, and you watch as she winces at whatever her mother is yelling at her. You can't make out what she's saying, but you can hear her from your position over here. Quinn sputters some excuses and the raging voice on the other end seems to calm down. You catch her eye and she widens hers, silently communicating her 'what the hell'. You smile at her and point behind you again. She nods and shoos you away with her hand, smiling as well, before returning to the conversation with her mother.

You quickly skip across the hallway. This is surreal. You are going to have a Harry Potter marathon with Quinn Fabray, who is, not to forget, currently having shower in your bathroom.

This is surreal. It deserved to be said twice.

A/N: Huzzah, I'm back again! And this time I was deliberately late. I already lengthened the time between updates, and I'm afraid I'll do it again. Two weeks. I'm sorry, I truly am, but school and work are hectic and I just can't find the time. Perhaps when things are running smoothly again, I'll cut it down, but give me time to catch up with my mind, because I know where I'm going, I just need to get there.

Oh, by the way, please tell me what you think about the little 'thought experiments' in between. I'm playing around with things like these, so please, help me improve ^^ Do you think they add to the story/character in any way? Your opinion is most appreciated. ^^

ALSO MARRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL IN ADVANCE! OuO