Simple Parts

Chapter Three- Giving Up

Now hold me 'til you fall asleep.
Not making it easy, no.
We're holding secrets underneath.
Not making it easy, no.

QFRB

The second the connection was broken, the second that the adult version of herself slumped completely into Older Rachel's arms and turned her face into the crook of that smooth tan neck, Quinn's feet were suddenly loose from the hardwood floors and she turned to flee.

Through the distortion of sound that was echoing off the sides of her skull she could hear one of the Rachels calling out to her but she ignored the noise. She was in the middle of making a break for the front door and there was no way she was going to stop for anything.

At least that was the plan, but then Alex's long strong arms wrapped around her middle from behind and she found herself being twirled through the air and manhandled back to where everyone else had remained motionless. Her vision was a swirl of clashing colors and she could feel the nausea from earlier returning, but through the haze her eyes automatically sought out that older her, still twitching and jerking in Older Rachel's arms, but to a lesser degree.

Quinn struggled as much as she could, but Alex held her just tight enough to keep her from being able to do any damage to him. She stomped on his feet a few times and gave her the satisfaction of a few muttered 'ouches,' but he was too strong for her to break free from.

She's really only half paying attention to her escape, the other half of her mind is focused on the older her sitting on the floor in her comfortable clothes (she can see now that the sweatshirt has a faded penguin on it) and messy hair. The clothes hide all signs of shape that could be underneath, so she couldn't tell if she has stayed fit. She looked older than Older Rachel did and that kind of ticked her off, but it's mostly around her eyes, so it would seem that she had decided to skip the Botox, unlike her mother.

Older Quinn had stopped shaking and was getting up with help from Older Rachel. She didn't stumble; she didn't need to be held up while she gained her bearings. She was strong and sure footed and took the space separating her from her younger self in two strides. She brought her hands up and clasped them on Young Quinn's cheeks with just enough force to leave a bit of sting and then held her still. "Hey! Stop it."

She didn't say anything else, she didn't have to. Young Quinn stopped out of surprise more than obedience, but it was a halt nonetheless. She stared into identical eyes again and she just wanted to cry, could feel her eyes stinging with want of tears. She wanted to cry because the whole situation was just so fucked up. She wanted to cry because she couldn't figure out why she was so happy.

Older Quinn smiled gently at her with something akin to pity. Young Quinn would have been upset had any other person looked at her that way, as it was though, it didn't do more than tweak her nose. She had always enjoyed a good pity party. Older Quinn broke eye contact and looked up at Alex. "Take her to Morgan's room. That's where she'll be staying. I'll be up in a little bit." The last was directed to Young Quinn.

"Where's Morgan going to sleep?"

"On your top bunk, so that means you'll need to go clean it off after you show her to her room."

"Do I not get a say in this?" Young Quinn asked the adults, it came out less forceful than she wanted.

"No," they said at the same time, Older Rachel with conviction and Older Quinn with a quiet weariness.

"Come on," Alex commanded gently, leading her up the stairs by the arm. In the upstairs hallway they passed several doors and she got glimpses of a few photo frames but there was no opportunity to stop and look at the contents. Not that she wanted to or anything.

They were near the end of the hall when he stopped in front of a door. "Lucky you, you're across the hall from my parents. Hope you're a deep sleeper," he commented with humor. When she didn't respond he added, "The bath room is next door."

He didn't let her go until he had opened the door and nudged her in ahead of him, taking up the doorway so she couldn't get passed him. She didn't bother trying. She would just wait until he left to try and sneak out.

The room that Quinn found herself standing in was small. The furniture was simple and black, a chest of drawers, a nightstand, a dresser, and a book shelf. The bed was a twin and had no headboard, the bedding was black and the comforter had a large white dandelion with the florets floating away on it. The book shelf was empty, the nightstand held only a simple lamp with a black shade, and on the dresser there was a picture frame, but from the angle she was standing Quinn couldn't see what it held. On top of the chest of drawers there was a small flat screen television, unplugged with the cord wrapped around the base, and a small black box that only had a power button and a USB port. She assumed it was some sort of devise for playing movies and didn't give it any further thought.

The walls were blank except for a single framed picture of a black dandelion on a white background, similar to the one on the bed.

She stepped farther into the room.

Alex stood at the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and then back again. "So um, this is Morgan's room when he comes to visit," he told her. "He doesn't come back much, so most of this stuff is from when he was younger."

"Is he gay?" Quinn asked in a quiet, subdued voice, running her hand lightly over the black and white bedspread.

"Labels aren't like, a thing, anymore, but no, I don't think so. He's always just liked dandelions," Alex replied, his brow drawing in as he gave it actual thought. "He has some deep thing about it. Like the wind will carry you to where you need to go or something like that."

"That's not what I meant, but I guess the dandelions are a little girly."

"What did you mean?"

Quinn struggled to verbalize it. "Rachel has two dads, you guys have two moms," she said slowly. She knew even before she saw Alex stiffen up in her peripheral vision that she definitely shouldn't' have said it like that. She didn't want to accept that she was attracted to Rachel, or any girl for that matter, but her words had even offended her. It was like the ignorance that she had been bottle feed was spewing out without her permission. But if it all sounded that ridiculous coming up, maybe she should say more, then it wouldn't be inside of her.

She meant to say sorry. She meant to take it back or smooth it over. She meant to do anything she could to take away the sting or distract from it. But when she looked up at Alex and saw that he was angry, and upset if his pout is anything to go on, she fell back onto her natural reaction to seeing anger directed at her. She became defensive. She locked down. She added extra fortification around her heart because there was just no way that she was actually feeling anything close to regretful.

"So, what? We have two moms so we must all be gay?" He sneered a little. "You have a mom and a dad, what's your excuse?"

"I was just wondering," Quinn insisted, her hackles rising. "And I'm not even gay."

Alex scoffs and looks away, rolling his eyes, and Quinn can see for that first time, that as much as he's definitely Rachel's kid, he's hers too. It's a scarily pleasant thought and she kills it as soon as it tries to take root. "Are you sure you're Quinn Fabray? Cause you don't sound very much like my Momma."

"That's because I'm not," Quinn spat at him. "I'm just a kid." Her nails bit at her palms. "I'm just a kid," it was quieter the second time, and a little too broken for Quinn's liking.

Alex loosened up, back to pouting and still not looking at her, but he didn't sound angry anymore. "I guess it makes sense now. 'I want to live forever, this time.' Hmm, yeah."

"What are you even talking about?"

"You're a coward, and you're really sad. You won't be forever though, so that's good." He was almost smiling now and she could see that he was glancing at her. His little knowing grin pissed her off. Sure he was apparently her kid, and sure he had known her his whole life, but where did he get off calling her a coward? Just because she knew she was a coward didn't mean that people got to point it out to her.

"I want to be alone."

He nodded and moved to leave but stopped just before he closed the door. "You shouldn't leave the house alone, you aren't chipped, and you don't have the right IDs or any money. You're clothes are weird too. You'll get hassled for sure, so just…don't leave." Quinn didn't reply, but apparently all he wanted was to absolve his conscience if she did decide to leave anyway.

The door clicked quietly shut and Quinn was alone. Just like she'd wanted.

QFRB

There was silence among the three women downstairs until Alex and Young Quinn could no longer be seen. Older Quinn made her way to the staircase and sank down onto the bottom stair, resting her elbows on her knees, and exhaled heavily.

Older Rachel went to her directly, kneeling in front of her on the floor. It was a movement and position so dramatic that it deserved marks out of ten just like Alex's earlier storm out had. "Are you alright, Baby?"

"I'm fine. It was just…so intense."

"The flashbacks?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to just spring this all on you, but you weren't answering your phone." The last was slightly more accusatory, but said with just enough gentleness to ease the sting.

"It's on silent. I was in my studio."

Older Rachel moved to sit beside her wife and it was at this point that Younger Rachel realized that she had been forgotten, probably in part because she had not moved or made a sound since Older Quinn had tumbled into Older Rachel's arms. While under normal circumstances she would have felt irritated, she was more than interested in seeing the relationship that would apparently develop between herself and Quinn in the future play out in front of her. "Are you not feeling well? Donny said you took off early."

"Yeah, I left at noon. I was just overtired I think." She grinned and nudged her wife gently. "No thanks to you."

Rachel huffed and leaned her head on Quinn's shoulder. "You weren't complaining at the time."

"I'm still not complaining," the blonde teased. "I feel better now. I took a nap and got some work done."

"Are you going to be ok about…?" She left the question hanging, taking Quinn's right hand between both of hers and tangling their fingers together.

"Yeah, but I'll definitely have to go to the meeting tomorrow."

"Do you need anything right now?"

Quinn grinned in an almost bashful way."Just you."

Older Rachel giggled, tucking her face against Quinn's neck. "Oh gag."

"Don't even pretend you don't like it," the blonde huffed. She untangled their hands and wrapped her arms around her wife and pulled the wiggling and giggling brunette onto her lap.

"Well Alice isn't here so I had to say it for her," Older Rachel replied though her laughter.

"I haven't had a proper hello yet," Quinn hinted not-so-subtly, moving her face closer to the brunette's.

There was no time for Young Rachel to prepare for what she was about to see. Before she had even blinked the two women were engaged in a kiss so tender and warm that she felt a thrill of fear shoot up her spine. Because, really, how could this feeling exist? How could she want to feel what they were feeling?

She felt the heat of a blush steal over her cheeks and ears; she gulped audibly when her throat attempted to close. She didn't know if the sound had been loud enough for the two adults to hear, but not long after it escaped her they pulled away just far enough that their noses still touched.

Older Quinn licked her lips and Young Rachel thought her face just might explode from how hot it felt. "Welcome home," the blonde husked. She went in for another kiss, but it was blessedly shorter. The younger diva didn't think she could survive seeing another full on mauling. "I think we just broke Little Rachel."

"She'll live."

"Obviously," Quinn replied, giving her wife a suggestive once over.

"You're feeling better," Older Rachel remarked with humor. "You should go talk to the other Quinn. Show Rachel to her room while you're at it." She jumped off of the blonde's lap. "I'm going to go start dinner."

"Yes, ma'am."

Quinn and Young Rachel were both silent as Older Rachel walked away, and the younger diva tried valiantly to ignore the way the blonde was watching her older self's butt.

When the blonde looked up at her and smiled it was entirely platonic, which was surprising given the look that had been on her face only seconds before. Instead it was just sort of friendly. She stood and indicated the stairs with a nod of her head. "Come on, I'll show you up." She didn't wait for a reply, just turned and started up the steps, fully expecting to be followed.

The brunette took the opportunity while Quinn wasn't looking to observe her in her entirety. She had changed a lot and didn't look much like the Quinn she was used to seeing.

Rachel wondered why this Older Quinn looked so different when she really looked just like the Quinn that had been lead up the stairs. There was something missing and she couldn't place it. Her face was just a more mature version of the one upstairs. Her hair was the same, though she needed to touch up her roots. She looked…happy, which was a little weird but not entirely unusual. She had seen Quinn happy a handful of times in the past. It wasn't her appearance, she decided.

It must be the way she carried herself. Unlike the young Quinn upstairs, she didn't stand like her spine was a steel rod, or, as some of the less popular kids in school would whisper when Quinn wasn't around, as if she had a stick up her butt. Rachel had always found that descriptor to be unbearably rude and never tittered in amusement with the other 'losers' of the school. Well...not after the first time she heard it anyway.

She was loose and relaxed, and was actually slouching a little bit as she waited at the top of the stairs for Rachel to reach her.

The brunette followed the blonde with a few feet of space between them past several closed doors. When they passed one that was ajar, Rachel peeked in to see that Alex was on the top bunk of his bed, throwing various objects overboard onto the floor. She watched as he threw a shirt and it caught on one of the several model airplanes hanging from his ceiling.

Quinn stopped at the next door and waited with quiet patience for Rachel to finish watching the boy lean out over the edge of the bunk and wave his arm fitfully at the dangling shirt. She felt eyes on her and looked up to meet hazel, growing embarrassed at being caught watching.

"I apologize," she supplied, moving to the blonde's side posthaste.

"It's fine," Quinn answered, opening the door and gesturing for her to go in. "You'll stay here while you're with us. It's Carmen's room when she's not at school, but she can room with Alice for a few days."

"I don't want to put anyone out," Rachel replied. The graciousness wasn't entirely false; she did have good manners when called for.

"She'll live. She has seven roommates, I'm sure just having one will be a vast improvement."

The room was stocked with furniture (a full bed, a nightstand, a vanity, a desk, and a bookshelf), but was sparsely adorned otherwise. The bookshelf was mostly empty. It held a few trinkets and several large text books that were musical in subject matter. The vanity was bare, and the desk followed in the same fashion. The nightstand held a lamp that sat on top of a white lace doily. The bed was nearly overflowing with pillows and the duvet was a warm chocolate color.

There were a few scattered pictures and posters on the wall. In fact, one entire wall was dedicated to pictures of the moon at various stages of its cycle.

"She was trying to find a picture that fit what E.E. Cummings described in one of his poems," Quinn explained when she saw Rachel scrutinizing the mural.

"Which poem was it?"

"Cambridge ladies."

"How did he describe it? I haven't read that one."

"The Cambridge ladies do not care, above Cambridge if sometimes in its box of sky lavender and cornerless, the moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy."

"Wow."

Rachel felt the awkwardness creep over her like a shadow. There was nothing left for them to discuss and the silence pressed in on her in a manner that was nearly suffocating.

Quinn broke the tension with, "I know this must be awkward for you."

And Rachel found that to be the perfect opening for what she had wanted to say since she realized who her wife would be. "I just find it extraordinarily odd that we will develop some type of relationship beyond a casual friendship considering that fact that you have never particularly liked me."

"I've always liked you Rachel."

"If you liked me so much, why were…are…were you so terrible to me?"

"I didn't know." Rachel narrowed her eyes and began to say something biting but Older Quinn pushed through. "No, I really had no clue, honestly. I was reacting to you purely by instinct. I blamed you and I blamed God and I did everything I could not to accept it. And I know that doesn't take away the hurt you've felt, but that's all I can really tell you."

Rachel had nothing to say. What could she say to that? It was hard for her to even believe it, let alone respond. She decided to simply nod.

Older Quinn seemed to understand. "Little Quinn isn't going to be able to apologize to you, Rachel, so I'm doing it for her. She is sorry; I want you to know that. I was so sorry. The only way I'm even able to verbalize it now is because I've had a stupid amount of therapy."

"I forgive you."

Rachel had to actively keep from flinching when Quinn raised a hand to her cheek, but the smile on the blonde's face was sweet and comforting and might have made her knees feel a little weak. "You are an extraordinary person, and I know you're already aware of the fact, but I just thought I should tell you that everyone around you is aware of it too." The blonde dropped her hand and Rachel returned the smile tentatively, not-so-secretly pleased at the compliment. "I'm going to go talk to myself and keep me from getting any crazier than I already was. How's that for a sentence?" Rachel actually had to stifle a giggle. "Feel free to wander around. Just don't go in my studio, I'm working on some things. It's the only door with a sign on it."

"Ok, thank you…for showing me to the room."

"Sure, Little Rach."

QFRB

Quinn heard the door to the room open and close quietly and her spine stiffened reflexively at being disturbed. She mentally berated herself for facing away from the door when she had chosen to lay down on the bed. There wasn't anything she could do about it though, the decision had been made and now she had no idea who had intruded on her solitude.

When a hand landed gently on her shoulder she nearly shrieked in surprise but she reigned in the automatic reaction and just jerked away instead.

"Hey, it's ok. It's just me." It was the other her. Her voice was low and soothing, something that Quinn had never really imagined her voice could be. The hand was back on her shoulder. "Come on, scoot over."

"Why?"

"It's cuddle time."

"I don't want to cuddle," Quinn lied, curling in on herself a little more.

"Don't even pretend. We've always loved snuggles, now scoot before I move your ass over myself." Quinn made a show of huffing in irritation before she slid over closer to the wall. She didn't look back as the older her settled in behind her, pulling their bodies flush against her so she was completely curled around the younger blonde. Quinn found that being so tightly held and feeling so secure was not helpful to keeping her emotions in check. They lay like that for awhile in silence, just breathing together and sharing comfort until Older Quinn started speaking again. "This is one of the millions of wonderful things about being with Rachel. We can just cuddle for hours. It's not like it was with our boyfriends, where like, can we not just snuggle without you trying to put your dick in my mouth?"

Quinn couldn't help her laughter. "I know, right?"

"Now it's like I have to try to put my dick in her mouth before-" Young Quinn tried to franticly scramble away from the arms wrapped around her and Older Quinn laughed uproariously. "Ok, ok, I'm sorry. Too soon."

"That was disgusting," the younger blonde insisted, but she relaxed back into the embrace without any further complaint.

"Whatever."

They lay in comfortable silence for awhile, just soaking up the comfort of being held. The younger of the two was the one to break the quiet.

"Can I see the ring?" There was movement behind her and then Quinn was confronted with the simple but beautiful diamond solitaire. She admired it from every angle, taking in the clarity and lack of color in the round stone. "It's beautiful." She ran her finger over the platinum band, and the gold wedding band too.

"She spent entirely too much money on it." Older Quinn supplied.

"Is it Tiffany's," she asked. Quinn was the type of little girl that had dreamt of her wedding since she was old enough to realize the point of fairy tales. The princess gets her prince and a pretty white dress and they ride off into the sunset together. Her childhood had found her to be blessedly oblivious to the tension in her household. As she got older and began to understand the dynamics of her parents' relationship her expectations of her future had changed. There were things that she assumed would be the highlights of her life and they would come while she was young. Becoming head cheerleader, dating the quarterback (regardless of how she felt about him), homecoming, Junior Prom, Senior Prom, a big white wedding, it was all in the books. And while most of her plans had failed spectacularly (she actually still had a chance at Homecoming court and Senior Prom) she had thought that her perfect wedding would be her last hurrah. After that it would all go downhill. Her parents' relationship proved that to her.

That was all the more reason for her to start planning her wedding at the age of twelve, which she had done.

An engagement ring from Tiffany's was to be expected.

"Of course."

Quinn flipped the hand she was holding over, curious to see if anything had changed over the years except for the skin feeling a little rougher. Something had, and she noticed it immediately. Four little letters at the top of the cup of her palm. Beth, in blue ink.

"What's this?" Quinn asked, a little irked. She didn't need an answer, she already knew.

"It's a tattoo. I have one for each of my kids. This one is from Isaiah 49: 15 and 16."

"Ok, I haven't memorized the Bible or anything, but there's no way that 'Beth' takes up two verses," Quinn countered tersely.

The older blonde laughed. "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me." She sighed. "I know he was talking about the restoration of Israel or something, but I read it and it just clicked that I should do this."

Quinn traced the letters. She didn't want to think about the baby she wouldn't keep. "How many kids do we have anyway?" she demanded instead.

"Five, not counting Beth."

"Oh God," she groaned. "Rachel better have had some of them."

"She had Alice. I had the rest."

"Why? Why would you put our body through four more pregnancies?"

"I fully admit to being a baby addict. I actually wanted more but Rachel flat out refused."

"Do she and I switch brains at some point or something? I mean, seriously, when did Rachel Berry become the sane one and I turn into the loony?"

Quinn noticed it subconsciously, the difference in her current state of mind and her attitude toward defiance, and the one she would have in the future, by what the older version of her said next. "It's different when you're with someone you love. Our children are a physical manifestation of our love for each other. They show the world that I just want to take everything wonderful about our love, mix it together, and create something beautiful with it." It was said calmly, no hint of anger, no attempts to change her thinking. Just a simple explanation of the thoughts behind an action.

"Ugh! Why am I even thinking about having Rachel's babies?" she questioned, disgust coloring her tone. She didn't like the way it made her feel warm inside.

"Because we're in love with her."

"Don't say that!" she hissed through her teeth. She suddenly felt paranoid, like Rachel was listening out in the hall and would burst in at any moment.

"You should talk about it."

"I don't want to."

"I know, but you should."

"Well I don't want to and even if I did I wouldn't talk to you about it."

"Why not? I'm totally the best person to talk about it with. We're the same person, basically. It'll be just like talking to yourself. And if you can't talk to yourself then who can you talk to?"

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity."

"Well then maybe we're insane, but at least we're in it together."

"I don't even want to talk about it!" she iterated, smacking the

"I know, I'm you remember? It'll help though. And once again, I'm you, so I already know it will."

"This is a really irritating situation."

"I know."

"This reminds me of that Three Fates thing in Hercules."

"I know."

"Ok, seriously? Stop it."

Her ire only received a chuckle and a hand tussling her hair.

"God, I don't even like Rachel. I can't even imagine feeling anything positive for her at all. Let alone all the…stuff that comes with marriage. It's making my gag reflex act up."

"We both know that you're lying. You should just stop it."

The frantic energy that had fueled her denials was wearing thin and a pressure behind her eyes was growing more prominent. "But if I say it out loud, it makes it true."

"Honey," Quinn flinched at hearing her own voice sound so motherly, "it's true whether you say it out loud or not."

"I don't want to be gay," she cried, finally allowing the tears that had been building up all afternoon trip down her cheeks. "I'm already going to Hell. I don't want it to be worse."

"There it is." The older blonde rolled the younger over so that they were embracing front to front, and held the teenager tightly to her chest.

Quinn sobbed for what felt like hours, her whole body getting into the act. She had her face buried in the front of Older Quinn's sweatshirt, fists clenched in the excess material and her tears and snot creating wet patches. Her vocal cries dissolved into hiccups over time and then into choked whimpers. All the while Older Quinn rubbed her back and petted her hair.

Even when the tears ended, and Quinn was left with shuttering breaths and a raw nose and throat, she continued to cuddle into the softness presented to her, searching out a dry spot so she didn't have to rub her face in her own mess.

"Don't apologize," Older Quinn commanded just as Quinn had been about to open her mouth and do so. "I know that with the way you think right now you won't be able to process or accept anything I'm about to say to you. It took me a long time to realize how much God loves me. It took years and several really important people in my life to paint my religion in a different light. I had to leave that place of fear, and I had to learn what 'truth' meant, and I had to move on from my childish view of Heaven and Hell, which you're still stuck on. Grandma isn't judging you, Quinn. God loves you. He loves you so much, more than our human hearts can comprehend. The way you love Beth, with every piece of who you are and how you were and who you will be? It doesn't even come close to a fraction of the love he has for you." Young Quinn was crying again, but she wasn't alone. "I know you think so right now Quinn, but I am not going to Hell. I love my wife, and she loves me and our love is pure. God blesses our love. He knows and he sees that our souls are made all the more radiant from it."

Quinn was beginning to wonder how many tears she could possibly hold. The second jag didn't last anywhere near as long as the first, but at the end of it she felt even more drained and her head was pounding. She curled against the body holding her, leaching warmth from the comforting embrace. She nearly laughed at her own thoughts because comfort and warmth were two words that she never thought she would pair with herself.

It was a product of motherhood, she supposed. And a product of medical science that she hadn't gotten ridiculously fat after pushing four more kids out of her body.

"This sweater smells good," Quinn mumbled, nuzzling closer in sleepy contentment.

Older Quinn had apparently decided to torture her and shatter her happiness. "It's Rachel's."

She stopped trying to bury herself in the soft fabric immediately.

Fuck my life.

"You're thinking Fuck my life right now aren't you?"

"UGH!"

"I know."

QFRB

Help us find our way home.
And you asked me if I've been there.
Have I been there?
I want to take you along.
This I know, I want to live forever this time.

A/N: I have a lot to say today…

I would like to dedicate this chapter to Heather Morris and Naya Rivera for being so damn wonderful, and for that ridiculously cute kiss.

So I live out in the country, and there's a lot of deer. My mom likes to feed them and give them water and stuff, and she isn't the only one that does, so they aren't really afraid of people. The people that live up the road from me rescued a baby deer and bottle fed it and so it's basically tame. Her name is Saunci and she wears this ridiculous neon orange collar.

Well ok, I was driving to work the other day and totally nearly killed Saunci, and the only reason I didn't was because of that stupid collar, cause I saw it before I saw her. I hit my breaks and she turned around in the middle of the street and ran back the way she came, spindly legs going in every direction. She looked like a dog running on tile, you know, when they can't get any traction and they sort of just run in place for a second.

Point of the above story?

I totally pictured Saunci running the fuck away when I wrote the opening scene.

#truestory

I want you guys to know that I totally put together four Erector sets during the writing of this chapter. Well, three and a half. I'm gonna finish the fourth one tomorrow maybe.

I have a super busy day ahead of me. It's the fourth of July, which means something to the Americans reading. It means we get to blow shit up…so I'm having a Blow Shit Up party and I have to make food and set up my grill and be a total butch all day long. #lookingforwardtoit

Alright, I know I said that Quinn's profession would be revealed in this chapter, but it totally got away from me and I can't help it. It will be in the next one for sure. So that means you have another chance to guess what she does for a living.

I said she worked in the arts, kind of, and I need to clarify that. Some people would not consider what she does art, but I totally do.

So yeah, get to reviewing. Get to guessing. Please feel free to ask questions so I know what I'm not making clear enough. Tell me what you think is funny. Try to guess where this plot is going (it was honestly going in a completely different direction when I first started it…)

Songs Used (for this chapter and the last two cause I'm a dummy and forgot to mention them):

Chapter one: Awake my Soul by Mumford and Sons

Chapter two: Trouble by Nevershoutnever

Chapter three: Giving Up by Sick of Sarah

Look them up on Youtube.