The one thing Rachel has learned from years of being bullied, picked on, and singled out for unsavoury reasons, is to be invisible and blend in with the crowd to pass the indiscriminate gazes of the bullies who only want some random loser to mock in the middle of the crowded hallway in the transitory time between classes. And sure, it might seem antithetical to her whole theatrical existence, her insistence to be seen and looked at and perceived by (adoring) masses, to be able to turn invisible whenever she wishes. But Rachel also knows that it is an important skill to learn. Just look at Dolly Parton and Marilyn Monroe, two of the most iconic women in show business. Both women too knew the boons of blending in the background, to be unseen when the situation calls for it.
And the situation does call for it. Karofsky and Azimio are back at it again, singling out Kurt and for what? For taking a shower this morning? For doing his hair? For knowing how to dress himself instead of generic polo shirts under letterman jackets that reek of sweat? No, it is for the mere virtue of existing, and Karofsky seems to take umbrage about Kurt's entire being, more than anyone else in all of McKinley High.
Rachel winces when Kurt's back slams against the wall of locker doors. Her heart burns. She finds it hard to swallow. She weaves through the crowd to appear right behind Kurt. Karofsky rears his arms to shove him again. Rachel's hand curls around Kurt's wrist and she tugs him away from Karofsky's reach so that his meaty palms slam against the locker doors. It leaves a dent where Kurt's body is just two seconds ago.
"Hey–!"
"Don't look back," Rachel urges, "keep walking."
Kurt, horror-stricken, nods and walks ahead, head held high though his mottled-red cheeks betray his flustered feelings. Rachel, however, looks behind her. When Orpheus turns back to catch a glimpse of Eurydice, he was already in love. But when Rachel arcs around to see Quinn standing in the war path of a raging Karofsky, dressed in the armour of the Cheerios, armed with nothing but her glare that can cut through the most fearless heart, her arms crossed and her brow raised, Rachel is confident that it is the moment she becomes sure.
The music in her head dies down. She hears the rush of blood flood her ears in time with her heartbeat. The technicalities fade away and here she is, in love.
"Going anywhere, Dave?" Quinn asks, her tone sweet but the words drip with venom.
"Get out of my way, Fabray."
"And what if I don't?"
Speechless, Karofsky decides it isn't worth getting on Quinn's bad side – any more than he already is. Along with his friend, they push their way through the amassed crowd on the opposite direction of where Kurt and Rachel went.
"Well, that's one way to start the morning," Kurt says, a little breathless. "Thanks for getting me out of there, Rachel."
"I apologize for hesitating. I could have stopped the first shove, but – "
"It's fine," Kurt says even though it isn't, "better late than never, right? Had I known it was that easy – just – walking away – " he laughs even though there is nothing funny about the whole thing and he shakes his head because it is all he can do.
"It's not your fault for freezing up – it is one of the survival tactics people tend to forget. It's not just fight or flight. Freezing in hopes of becoming invisible is a valid defence mechanism."
"One that can't necessarily protect you. It just means you've given up on surviving," comes Quinn's husky voice. The crowd of students part as she approaches them. "Are you alright?" She asks Kurt without sparing Rachel a glance.
"I am, thank you. If it weren't for Rachel, I would be nursing a bruise as big as Texas on my back right now."
Quinn side-eyes Rachel and her lips seem to twitch. "Good timing, Berry. See you in glee club."
Her Cheerio skirt fans out behind her as she turns around. She saunters away, her hips swinging, on her way to class.
"Careful, Rach. You look like you're in the middle of planning out your entire life with Quinn. Or at the very least, you look about ready to burst into song," Kurt says with a wary expression. He nudges Rachel out of her reverie and loops his arm around hers.
"When she said, 'see you in glee club,' she means me, correct?"
Kurt chuckles and leads Rachel to first period – a class they share. "I'm sure she does."
Rachel's crush on Quinn is nothing new but it's also something she refuses to show outright. As if she needs any more reason to get picked on. She has no idea how Quinn would take that kind of information anyway, when the head cheerleader acts as if she can barely stand her as it is. Still, the thing about her feelings for Quinn – the queasy, weak-kneed, sigh-every-ten-minutes-at-the-thought-of-her state she leaves her in – is that Rachel knows, beyond shadow of doubt, that nothing can come from it. Every aspect of it is a matter of fantasy – rich, delusional fantasy – and it is Rachel's lifeblood. One that keeps her pulse pumping whenever she imagines herself singing Quinn a blatantly romantic song...
She squirms at the thought. She's in class, for goodness' sake! She should be focusing on the lesson, except the sleepy drone of their history teacher about the second world war can put even an insomniac to sleep. She busies herself with her binder – reorganizing her notes, scribbling a date or two she knows she won't use when she does her revisions during study hall in the afternoon... But she can't focus.
All because Quinn is in the same class as her.
The head cheerleader sits north-north-east from Rachel. Which mean great things – it means that she gets to stare at Quinn's back. Romantic that Rachel is, this suits her just as well. She doesn't need to see Quinn's face – she can picture it just fine. The curve of Quinn's forehead, her perfect nose, the bow of her lip. Then there's the intensity in her eyes... Yeah, Rachel needs no help picturing it all. And her position behind Quinn saves her from being caught staring, blatant and unabashed as she is in doing so.
Rachel props her chin on her closed fist and sighs, dreamy-like.
"Enjoying the view?" Mike teases from beside her.
"I sure am."
"Ever think about telling her?"
"I don't have a death wish," Rachel says with a scoff.
"You don't think inviting her to the rooftop while cherry blossoms fly through the air is romantic? And yelling, I love you! because for some bizarre reason you're standing twenty feet apart? Then the wind blows and there's a pan-up to the sky..."
"You watch too much anime."
"I do," Mike nods with a sober expression. "Joking aside – why not let her know?"
"My feelings are none of Quinn's business. They're entirely my own. I'm perfectly happy watching her from afar."
"Even with Finn in the picture?"
"I block him out."
"Like a censor bar."
"Something like that. You know how your eyes technically see your nose but your brain just blocks it out for you? That's how my brain processes Finn."
Mike snorts.
In the entire duration of her conversation with Mike, Rachel's gaze never once wavers away from Quinn. Even though she only catches a glimpse of her ear, the slope of her shoulder, it is enough to feed the flames of of the Romantic that burns inside Rachel. She hardly notices that the teacher is passing worksheets up at the front until it's too late. Quinn turns around to pass the sheets to the classmate behind her and in doing so, her eyes meet Rachel's.
Time slows, time rushes in the speed of light. Rachel glances upwards, looks at the clock that reads the wrong time. She accepts the stack of paper from the student in front of her, takes one, then passes it along.
Even though her heart races, Rachel keeps her face neutral. Even though her stomach flutters, filled to the brim with migrating hawks that beat their wings and leave her nauseous, she keeps her head down until she is confident that Quinn is no longer looking in her direction.
She glances up.
Quinn looks at her, still.
Outside, the shrill chirp of Coach Sylvester's whistle pierces the cool autumn air. Her voice follows through the megaphone and Rachel flinches, mittened hands clamping over her ears to protect her precious eardrums. All she hears is the muffled insults aimed at the cheerleaders, another sharp screech of the whistle, and the Cheerios are back to their initial formation.
Rachel sits on topmost step of the bleachers, her friends huddled around to keep warm.
"Whose bright idea is it to watch the Cheerios practice?" Tina complains, her teeth chattering.
"Rachel wanted to," Kurt says.
"You didn't have to tag along," the girl in question says gently.
"Yeah, because you watching the Cheerios alone is so inconspicuous," Tina drawls.
"For all they know I'm watching the football team," Rachel points, the other half of the field occupied by boys tackling one another to the ground. Rachel waves just as Mike stands up from being grappled by Matt, and the boy grins and waves back.
"As if! If you stare at Quinn any harder, her Cheerio skirt is going to burst into flames! There is no doubt in all the world where your eyes are pointed. Can we please just go back inside? To the library maybe? Where it's warm?"
"You guys can go ahead."
"Aren't you cold?" Tina asks in unabashed exasperation.
"Oh boy, here we go..." Kurt groans.
"I am not strong enough to gaze at the light of that lady, and do not know how to make a screen from shadowy places, or the late hour," Rachel says, her voice clear as if she speaks on stage that it causes the other pockets of students who loiter around the bleachers, perhaps for the same reason Rachel and her friends are there, to look at them. At their attention, Kurt hides behind the collar of his Marc Jacobs coat. Mercedes shields her face with her hands. Tina gawks at Rachel who is not finished, "yet, with weeping and infirm eyes, my fate leads me to look on her: and well I know I wish to go beyond the fire that burns me."1
Tina stares at Rachel. "What the hell was that about?"
"I'm on a Petrarch kick lately," Rachel explains.
"That tells me absolutely nothing."
"I don't feel the cold because looking at Quinn makes me warm."
"If you say things like that with such a straight face, I'm going to believe you."
"I am serious."
"You're gross," Tina says.
Another trill of the whistle announces the end of practice—for both cheerleaders and football players. Rachel cranes her neck just in time to catch a glimpse of Quinn run up the steps for a word with Coach Sylvester. Despite the cold, mid-autumn air, sweat glistens along her brow, a few curled strands of blonde hair escape her ponytail. Green tracks of grass stains smudge her strong thighs. On her way up the bleacher stairs, she glances at Rachel and her friends and she waves at them before facing Coach Sylvester.
"Did my heart love 'till now? Forswear it, sight."2 Rachel murmurs.
"That's not Petrarch."
"And I swear – you say that every time Quinn so much as looks at you," Kurt teases.
"She waved, this time."
"I think that wave was meant for all of us," Mercedes points out.
"You guys suck. Stop raining on my parade."
"Since when do you watch practice?" Quinn comes up to their cluster. Her dishevelled look does a number on Rachel's heart that for a brief moment her mouth is dry. She realizes that Quinn is looking at her, expecting an answer. Of all the times for her friends to not open their big mouths, they choose this time?
"I just thought we could show our support, what with you doing both glee club and Cheerios. Cheering you on, so to speak."
Quinn smiles and Rachel feels seized. "Cheering on the cheerleaders, huh? The guys too, I'm guessing? And here I thought I was special," Quinn laughs.
"What guys?" Rachel asks, her eyes blank.
Quinn raises her brow but a smirk adorns her mouth in a curve that makes Rachel nervous. "See you tomorrow."
She bounces gracefully down the stairs, her steps light and her ponytail bobs behind her. Rachel feels just like an ice cube and Quinn is a heat gun. She grasps her cheeks and finds them warm while her friends look at her in amusement.
"Good job, Rachel. I was so sure you were you were going to swallow your tongue," Tina retorts, "can we go inside now?"
Nothing can ruin Rachel's day now. Not when Quinn's laughter – that is not a mocking one, either – rings inside her head. Reminiscent of the soft peal of – perhaps this is where further feeling in the Petrarchan mode comes into play – church bells. "Yeah, yeah. We can go back inside."
So it is that Rachel and Finn are slated to perform the duet for Regionals. A given, though other members of the club made a show of complaining that Rachel gets all the chances at stardom. She blocks them out – they're pretty much all talk anyway. Only Rachel has had the experience of performing in front of large crowds that she no longer balks at the thought of performance. But they do.
The one thing that bothers her about the whole thing is how Quinn handled the news. She seems unbothered that Finn is going to sing a song about being faithful to someone who is not her girlfriend while Rachel returns the sentiment. Rachel hesitates to take Quinn's attitude at face value.
Especially during rehearsals. Rachel sings the last note of the song, impressed that Finn holds his own against her – though he wavers near the end. She takes a lungful of air and catches Quinn's eyes trained at her.
Her. Not at Finn.
Rachel swallows a mouthful of water and contemplates reading into it. It's all she thinks about through the next day, even during the last period which is study hall. She commandeers a table with Mike and together they spread out their books and papers. They fall into a companionable silence with nothing but the hum of the low voices in the library as their background noise.
"Can I sit with you?"
Rachel knows that voice but she looks up to make sure. It won't do to have one's heart swell with the beauty of possibility only to have it dashed. Quinn stands before her, arms laden with books, and Rachel falls in love yet again.
"Oh! Of course, Quinn. Give me one second..." Rachel shoves Mike who jerks at the interruption. "Put your stuff away! Quinn needs desk space!" She says while she scrambles to arrange her notes into a manageable pile. Once enough space has been cleared, Quinn sits across from Rachel, a smile on her face.
"Sorry about that, Mike. I didn't expect Rachel would get violent."
"No problem. I'm used to it by now."
"Oh?"
"He means," Rachel frowns, "we're happy to share our study hall table with you, Quinn."
"Yeah, I'm sure that's what he means," the blonde smirks. "I was sharing a table with Brittany and Santana but they keep making eyes at each other. I have no problem that they're dating but I really need to study."
"Is this for the history test next week?" Rachel asks.
"You're in that class too, if I remember right," Quinn says. "You're always checking the time for some reason."
Rachel swallows and nods. "Yes, that's exactly it."
"The clock in that classroom hasn't worked since freshman year," Quinn says with an amused cock of her brow.
"It's – habit," Rachel says lamely. "I'll let you get back to your notes," she says. She takes out her notebook and gets to work. Or pretends to, anyway.
She rarely gets to be this close to Quinn. She can smell the floral waft of her perfume, admire the gradient of her blonde hair – so light at the tips and darkening closer to her scalp. Quinn twirls a lock of her hair around a finger, her lip catches between her teeth as she reads the book propped before her. Rachel can almost block out Mike's presence and pretend it's a study date – just her and Quinn.
Mike takes his notebook and rips out a page from the back. He then pushes the slip of paper towards Rachel.
Careful. This is what u look like rn: (灬 ω 灬)
Mike stifles a laugh and the sound makes Quinn look up. Rachel scrunches the paper into a ball and shoves it in Mike's pocket. Quinn raises her brow. "What was that?"
"Mike thinks he's being funny," Rachel says.
Quinn opens her mouth to speak but out of nowhere, Finn approaches their table. Rachel prepares to steel herself, to begrudgingly witness Quinn's attention transfer from her to her boyfriend. But instead, Finn looks at her expectantly.
"Sorry, I missed that. What?"
"I was wondering if we can do extra rehearsals. You know, for our duet," Finn asks, his backpack strap looped repeatedly around his fingers. His eyes dart around like nervous fish, never staying long enough in Quinn's direction. "If you're not busy, anyway."
"Unfortunately, I am," Rachel gestures to her books. "You can practice on your own, I'm sure."
"Yeah, but it's easier if you're there, y'know, to coach me and stuff."
Rachel wonders what Quinn sees in Finn – beyond the popularity, the boy-next-door aura, and the goofy-yet-charming smile. "I really can't help you at the moment, Finn."
Dejected, the boy shuffles out of the library and Rachel sighs, happy to be rid of him. Quinn looks at her, an unfathomable look on her face.
"I thought you would have jumped at the chance to help him out. Seeing it's for glee club," Quinn says.
"Yes, well," Rachel shrugs, "I really do need to study."
"Yeah? You've barely done anything in that department," Mike says.
"Should I leave so you can focus?" Quinn asks.
"No! I mean – please stay. It's not your problem that Mike is being a smartass and that Finn interrupted us," Rachel glares at Mike who only cackles. "Really, Quinn."
The head cheerleader smiles. "Thanks."
Rachel swallows hard, feigns a calm, neutral smile. But the minute Quinn resumes her focus on her textbook, Rachel's shoulders sag and she clutches at her chest. The incessant beating of her heart leaves her face flush and light-headed. Beside her, Mike reaches into his pocket to unfurl the crumpled piece of paper Rachel shoved into his pocket. He taps his doodle, the face with the heart eyes, then points at Rachel.
Rachel snatches the slip of paper from him, balls it up, and throws it. It bounces against Mike's head and disappears from view.
There is nothing quite like an empty school hallway where one can peruse the innards of one's locker in relative peace without worrying about having the locker door slam on one's face and fingers. Rachel spends the time right before lunch break ends organizing her locker for this very reason. As she straightens her textbooks that are arranged according to when class occurs, she hears footsteps and angry voices. Well, voice, actually.
"Are you seriously breaking up with me? Over a gut feeling?" Quinn snarls. She wrestles with her locker door and wrenches it open. Beside her Finn squirms uncomfortably.
"You gotta admit, nothing's really, you know, happening between us," Finn says. "We haven't made out in weeks and you don't even like it when I hold your hand in the hallway so it's like... what's the point?"
"Is that what dating is to you? There are more important things – like popularity and our standing at this school."
"Come on, no one really cares about us as a couple."
The fury in Quinn's eyes was like looking into the eye of a hurricane. The flash of anger in them, the warmth of rage in her cheeks, made her seem more intimidating than she already is. Rachel can't blame Finn for saying a quick 'sorry!' before scurrying to the opposite direction of the corridor.
Which leaves just Quinn and Rachel in the middle of the hallway.
Quinn slams her locker door shut. "I know you were watching us, Berry. Don't act otherwise. There's no broken clock to give you an excuse this time."
Rachel tenses, and with every step Quinn takes towards her, Rachel feels helpless, pinned beneath Quinn's heated look.
"You think I don't notice how you're always looking? You think you can woo Finn away from me just by batting your eyelashes and acting cute? Well, you did it."
Rachel blinks. Quinn thinks I'm cute.
"Don't act all innocent!" Quinn snarls, teeth bared like a furious animal. She slams her hand against the wall of lockers behind Rachel's head, effectively pinning the smaller girl with not just her stare but with the radiant heat of her body.
"I really have no idea what you're talking about Quinn."
"I'm not an idiot," she snaps. "Explain to me then. How come every time I look at you, you happen to be looking at us?"
Rachel meets Quinn's glare with a level gaze. "As you say, Quinn. You're not an idiot."
It startles Rachel just how rapidly Quinn arrives at the conclusion. "Me?"
Rachel bites her lips and nods. "If I was looking at Finn, why would you catch me looking at you while we're in AP History – a class he's not in?"
"Huh," Quinn seems to relax. "I thought you liked Finn."
"I mean... I don't hate him."
"You seduced him."
"If one can even put it that way. I did it for the sake of glee club. We need a male lead and he's the best one there is."
Quinn taps her foot against the linoleum floor, her gaze not wavering away from Rachel's form. It is one thing to do the looking, and another thing entirely to be looked at. Rachel squirms beneath Quinn's scrutiny.
"Good to know," Quinn says with finality, "I'll see you around, Rachel."
In the weeks that follow, Rachel is in anguish. She feels, in a word, limited. Whenever the urge to admire Quinn arises – and it is often – Rachel finds that she can't. For whenever she looks in Quinn's vague direction, the blonde is already looking at her, and always with the shadow of a smirk that does not sit well in Rachel's stomach. She's been so used to being the one who does the looking, the pining, the admiring, that when she realizes she can't, helplessness settles in her hands like dead weight.
"She knows."
Rachel slams her palms on the sticky surface of the lunch table where her friends sit. Tina looks up from her sandwich and Mike and Mercedes pause in their exchange of pudding cups. Kurt stops mid-bite of his salad. He lowers his fork and with calm Rachel cannot fathom, asks, "who knows what?"
"Quinn. And – my feelings."
"You mean the feelings that might as well be broadcast in neon marquee and can be seen from outer space?" Tina snorts.
"Slow down. How did she find out?" Mike asks.
Rachel retells the story of Finn breaking up with Quinn and the subsequent confrontation between her and Rachel. Mercedes rips the lid of her vanilla pudding cup and licks her spoon. "So, what's the problem?"
"What do you mean?" Rachel asks.
"It's not like you told her out-and-out that you have a crush on her," Mercedes points out. "All you said was you don't like Finn."
"You're missing the point. It's about what Rachel does not say," Kurt says. At this, Rachel nods firmly.
"I beg your pardon. Sapphic mating rituals confuse the bajeebus out of me."
"Are you seriously ignoring the fact that Quinn kabedonned you against the locker door or am I supposed to be excited about it by myself?" Mike demands.
"Can't you see I'm trying to be chill about the whole thing?" Rachel shrieks.
At this, Mike grins. "Nice. Lovely to see the real, unhinged Rachel come back to us."
Some friends, Rachel thinks, storming away to pace the length of hallways for some peace and quiet. She opens her locker, buries her face inside it, and screams. The sound bounces against the metal walls and ricochets in an odd way. Rachel withdraws her head and nearly jumps out of her skin. Beside her stands Quinn, one shoulder leaning against the wall. Her eyes are lined with enough black to make her eyes – that are already arresting – stand out. She smiles. "Are you okay?"
"I am visibly not, thank you for your concern."
Rachel wants to look at Quinn. Wants to drink her fill of her with looks alone but fears what she will find reflected in her eyes, in her expression. She decides, fuck it, I will drink from the fountain offered to me.
"Are you done staring?" Quinn asks.
"Never."
Quinn laughs and unfurls a balled paper. It's the piece of paper with Mike's doodle on it: Careful. This is what u look like rn: (灬 ω 灬)
"I gotta say, Mike's right. This is what you look like," she teases, pushing herself off the wall. Steps closer towards Rachel, who remains rooted to the spot. "What's wrong, Berry? I thought you would be the type to take flight rather than freeze since you storm out of glee club all the time."
"Why would I leave? I'm right where I want to be."
"So you don't find me threatening?"
"Not at all."
Quinn eyes Rachel and she sees the distinct glint of hunger in her eyes that Rachel prays she is not simply imagining, besotted as she is.
"Close your eyes."
"I can't."
"Can't? Or won't?"
Rachel smiles. "Love opens the way to the heart through the eyes, Quinn. I can't look away from you even if I wanted."3
Quinn laughs, "okay, heart eyes. But I'm not kissing you with your eyes wide open."
"I know I'm weird, but I'm not that weird," Rachel mumbles.
Her eyes fall shut and Quinn shifts closer. Her palm curves around the side of Rachel's neck and she lowers her mouth to hers.
"So then," Rachel says after a moment, "does that mean you don't mind when I look at you?"
"No, Rachel," Quinn says, grinning, "I don't mind at all."
1. Son animali al mondo de si altera by Petrarch.
2. Romeo and Juliet, I.v.59.
3. Era il giorno ch'al sol si scoloraro by Petrarch.