Everyone always talks about the nice people in life-the people who turn the other cheek and never have a bad thing to say about others. It's always said that they are the ones who have limits, no matter how sweet and nice they are. They are the ones who get pushed too far and eventually break. But what about the other type of people? The ones on the other end of the spectrum? The people who are cold and distant and seemingly angry at the world for no justifiable reason? Do they have their limits? Is it possible for this kind of person to feel so much all at once they finally crack? Because the world doesn't talk about them; they're written off because they're not the nicest or sweetest person to ever exist. And maybe that holds some truth to it. Maybe their limits don't seem to matter because of the type of person they are. But at the end of the day, they do have feelings. They do have limits. And sometimes, not often, but sometimes, these people begin to feel so much, the "I don't give a damn about the world I live in" act comes crumbling down, and they are seemingly left with the same thing we think we're all left with when life gets the better of us: absolutely nothing.
By the time the group of friends managed to find a date on which everyone could attend dinner it was already nearing Thanksgiving. They all agreed it would be easiest to just combine the holiday and their reunion, so everybody made plans to be at the loft for Thanksgiving dinner. Kurt and Santana were on break from school; Rachel was in between roles on Broadway and had a significant amount of free time; neither Brittany nor Sam had to work on Thanksgiving; and even Quinn had been given time off from working with the DA.
Thanksgiving morning brought in a slight warm front; it broke up the biting, icy days that had surrounded the city, and the mild weather was more than welcomed by the residents.
Kurt and Rachel, true to their promise, arrived at the loft early to start putting together the holiday dinner. They danced around the kitchen—quite literally—as they cooked the turkey, potatoes, stuffing, and various kinds of dessert, all the while singing absurd holiday medleys. Brittany and Sam passed the day away by having a dance party of their own; Sam ridiculously claimed Kurt and Rachel's songs were ideal for showing off his famous body roll, and wasted no time in doing so. Santana spent the day sitting at the kitchen table, tapping her fingers in rhythm with the second hand on the clock and trying to ignore the commotion going on around her.
Finally, around five o'clock, there was a soft knock on the door and Santana stood up so quickly she almost knocked her chair over. She straightened out her skirt and faced the group. The other four stopped what they were doing and looked at her curiously.
"I swear to God," Santana began threateningly, "if any of you do anything to scare Quinn away, I will shove my foot so far up your-"
"Santana, why don't you just answer the door?" Kurt intervened quickly. "I think all of us have waited long enough to be reunited with Quinn."
Santana rolled her eyes and strode to the door. She slid it open and felt an involuntary grin spread across her face when she saw Quinn standing there. The blonde was wearing a short, white dress with a navy button-up sweater over top. Her hair was pulled into a loose side braid, and her hazel eyes seemed even brighter than usual in contrast with her dress.
"Hey," Quinn breathed, and a smile played on her lips.
"Hey, yourself," Santana answered.
"You look very nice," Quinn noted as she looked Santana up and down. "Though, that's not saying much. You always look good."
Santana felt her pulse quicken at the simple compliment. "Stop it, you're much too kind. But thank you. You look very nice, as well."
"Thank you. But I feel like I should have brought something," Quinn told her, waving her hands awkwardly, but Santana shook her head.
"No, seriously, don't worry about it. Lady Hummel and Barbara Jr. are absolutely loving slaving away in the kitchen all day. I have no idea why, but I think it has something to do with their need to be constantly praised for something they did." Santana shrugged her shoulders as Quinn laughed, and then leaned forward to pull Quinn in for a kiss; she ran her hand down Quinn's arm and interlaced their fingers. "Come on, everyone is anxiously awaiting your presence." Santana dragged Quinn into the loft where the others were waiting eagerly.
"Quinn!"
"Quinnie!"
"Oh my God, Quinn!"
Kurt, Rachel, Brittany, and Sam all bombarded Quinn as soon as they saw her, sweeping her from Santana's grasp; they showered her in hugs and squeezes. Quinn returned their actions with a wide smile, hugging each of her former friends one at a time. She had hardly stepped back from their embraces when they began their 3rd degree.
"Wow," Quinn stated, "I never expected such a gracious greeting from you all."
"How are you?" Kurt exclaimed.
"I'm good, thank you," Quinn responded. "How are you all doing?"
"Living the dream," Sam said with a grin. He wrapped an arm around Brittany's waist and pulled her closer.
"Sam's right," Kurt agreed, nodding in affirmation. "New York City was meant for people like us."
"Good," Quinn replied, "you all deserve to be somewhere that's up to your speed."
"Are you a big, bad lawyer now, Quinn?" Brittany asked earnestly, her eyes wide.
Quinn chuckled. "I'm getting there, Britt. I'm getting there."
"Santana tells us you're at Columbia now?" Rachel inquired.
Quinn glanced at Santana with sparkling eyes. "She would be right. I transferred there last year."
"Quinn, that's amazing," Rachel told her in a sincere voice, "Everyone knew Lima was too small for you. How do you like living in the beauty that is New York City?"
"Well, it's definitely bigger than I remember it being when we were here junior year. And it's much faster than anything I'm used to. But it's grown on me," Quinn said with a nod. "Plus," she added, as she took a step towards Santana and intertwined their fingers, "it helps when you find someone who doesn't make it seem so overwhelming and terrifying." Her eyes didn't leave Santana's once as she made the comment, and Santana smiled slightly.
"Very true!" Kurt agreed. "Everything's better with friends."
"Okay, great," Santana interjected impatiently, "if you are all done interrogating Quinn, I think she and I will go over there to avoid you all."
Kurt and Rachel looked shocked, and Brittany just giggled.
"Fine," Rachel said, "you two can go over there, but don't think for a second that means we're done talking to you." She and Kurt turned around and walked back into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner.
Santana led Quinn over to the couch; Quinn sat down and opened her arm so Santana could burrow in her side and rest her head in the crook of Quinn's neck. Quinn's fingers began to run through Santana's hair as they always did when the two girls sat close together.
"Want me all to yourself, do you?" Quinn teased quietly.
"Actually," Santana started, "I was just saving you from the torture they were bound to put you through with their one thousand questions. You should be thanking me, really."
"Ah, obviously that's it. In that case, thank you." Quinn placed a kiss on top of Santana's head.
"I told them not to attack you with questions, I swear," Santana said.
"And you really believed Kurt and Rachel would listen to that request?" Quinn asked with a giggle. "Do you not know them at all?"
Santana was about to respond with a sarcastic comment regarding the tap-dancing twins when a voice from the kitchen interrupted them.
"Hey, Quinn?" Rachel called.
Santana felt Quinn heave a heavy sigh and grinned to herself. Apparently, even after years, Quinn's irritation with Rachel Berry had never fully subsided.
"Yes, Rachel?" Quinn answered.
"Do you keep in touch with anyone else from high school?"
"Hmm," Quinn hummed in response; she seemed to be contemplating the best way to answer. "Yeah, actually, umm…I kind of still talk to Finn."
Silence filled the room as everyone processed Quinn's remark. Santana looked up at the blonde with wide eyes, and Brittany and Sam were staring at Rachel as if she was going to faint.
"You…you do?" Kurt asked apprehensively, and it was obvious he was trying to ease the sudden tension, but failing to do so.
Quinn nodded slowly. "Yeah. After both of us accepted we're better off as friends our relationship got a lot better. We try to talk once or twice a week."
"How's he doing?" Rachel tried to keep her voice controlled and offhand, but her desperate curiosity leaked through the words. Word had gotten around and everyone from glee club knew Rachel and Finn hadn't talked since he left New York years ago; their relationship had disappeared slowly and gradually, fading into the darkness. Rachel hardly ever spoke about Finn—she hadn't known where he was, and she pretended not to care, but everyone knew she would jump at the opportunity to speak to him again.
"He's doing well. He's still in Lima," Quinn informed everyone. "He actually went to college and became a teacher. And now he is teaching 11th grade history and helping out with the glee club." A smile formed on Quinn's lips. "It's not surprising at all, though. He's obviously a great teacher and he absolutely adores his job."
Rachel smiled sadly and nodded. "Of course he does. That's great, I'm glad to hear he's doing so well."
"Have you been back to Lima a lot, Quinn?" Kurt inquired in an attempt to change the subject.
Quinn shook her head, and Santana thought she saw a glimpse of sadness cross the girl's features, but it was gone in an instant. "No," Quinn replied. "Not at all, actually. It's just been pretty chaotic for the past…three years I guess." Quinn laughed a humorless laugh. "I haven't really found any time to go back."
"Wait," Santana started as she lifted her head from Quinn's shoulder, "you haven't been back to Lima in three years? Not even to visit your mom or anything?"
There it was again: an expression of pain and sadness drifted across Quinn's face again, and Santana was sure of it this time—even if it had been small and fleeting.
"No," Quinn told Santana. "I mean, in order to graduate early I had to take on a lot of summer classes and internships and things like that. And now that I'm in my last few years of law school it's been even more demanding. I can't exactly afford to take extended vacations back to Lima."
"But what about holidays and stuff?" Sam asked. "You don't even go home for Christmas or anything?"
Quinn once again shook her head, and Santana could tell she was becoming uncomfortable with the topic. It didn't make much sense; after Quinn's mom divorced her dad, her relationship with Quinn improved greatly. They were never as close as they probably could have been, but Santana knew Quinn loved and cared for her mom; so it confused Santana why Quinn would never return to Lima to visit her own mother, and Santana made a mental note to broach the subject with her girlfriend at a later time.
Everyone else seemed to pick up on Quinn's uneasiness, too, because no further questions were asked. The group fell into a comfortable silence until Kurt made an excited announcement a few minutes later.
"Dinner is served!"
Everybody made their way to the table; Santana and Quinn sat beside each other, across from Brittany and Sam, while Kurt and Rachel placed themselves at either end of the table. Rachel began to pass all of the food around, encouraging them all to eat as much as they could.
"Before we begin to eat," Kurt said as he lifted up his glass of wine, "I would just like to say how happy I am all of you could be here this evening. As I said earlier, everything is better with friends, and I'm so glad all of you are mine. And Quinn, we are so glad to have you back in the group. You have been missed."
The others all nodded earnestly in agreement, and Santana nudged Quinn with her elbow, giving her a wide grin. Quinn's face turned slightly red from embarrassment and she murmured a quiet thanks. The rest of the group raised their glasses and clinked them with one another. As they began to eat, conversation became intermittent and easy, and everyone shared stories from the past few years, the talk between them flowing easily and smoothly.
"So, Quinn, when did you realize you liked girls?" Every head snapped towards Brittany as she posed the question abruptly.
Santana's jaw dropped in surprise at how casual it was. "Britt, I don't think that's-" She stopped when she felt Quinn squeeze her thigh gently.
"No, it's okay," Quinn told Santana with a shrug of her shoulders, "it's a valid question." Everyone around the table was looking at Quinn now. "I guess the night with Santana at Mr. Schue's wedding kind of just confirmed what I had suspected for a while. It never really felt 'right' with any of the guys I dated. No offense, Sam," she added with a smile, "but I think it was something I always knew and just never wanted to admit."
Sam grinned his goofy smile and nodded. "Not a problem. It's not like you and I ever went past 2nd base anyway." Kurt and Rachel looked slightly stunned at Sam's carefree confession, but Quinn just laughed loudly.
"Have you dated other girls over the years?" Brittany asked, and again everyone glanced at her.
Quinn tilted her head to the side and nodded. "Uhh…yeah. Yeah I've dated a few." She glimpsed at Santana, who was staring at Brittany with a bewildered expression.
Santana cleared her throat before speaking. "Umm, Britt, why exactly are you inquiring about Quinn's past relationships?"
Brittany shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "No reason in particular. I'm just checking to make sure her intentions with you are good."
"I feel like that's not-" But Santana stopped again as Quinn cut in, seeming to sense Santana's discomfort with Brittany's sudden interrogation.
"Well, Britt, I have clearly forgotten just how good of a friend you are. I totally understand the questions," Quinn said in a sincere voice. "But I can promise you that my intentions are as genuine as they come." She looked at Santana with an intense gaze and smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way, especially with someone like Santana."
"And what exactly does that mean?" Brittany responded sharply as her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Quinn's eyes lingered on Santana's a second longer before she turned her head to answer Brittany. "Santana would be able to see right through me if I had ulterior motives for dating her. I wouldn't stand a chance; she would kick my ass, and I'm not really a big fan of that idea. Besides, she's worth much more than just some fling."
Out of the corner of her eyes, Santana saw both Kurt and Rachel grin at Quinn's response. A smile formed on her own lips, and it took all of Santana's self-control to not lean over and kiss Quinn deeply. She settled for grasping Quinn's hand in her own and holding in her lap.
The answer seemed to satisfy Brittany, who nodded and had a small smile on her face; the conversation returned to trivial subjects, ranging from favorite restaurants in the city to jobs and classes in school. It was comfortable and it was easy, as though the past three years hadn't even happened.
After dinner, Sam and Brittany sat themselves on the couch to watch a movie. Quinn offered to help Rachel clear the table and wash the dishes, leaving Santana alone with Kurt.
"Wow," he muttered as soon as Quinn and Rachel were out of earshot.
"What?" Santana asked, and she raised an eyebrow.
"You and Quinn," he told her plainly.
"What about us?" Something in Kurt's tone made Santana defensive.
Kurt sat back in his chair and clasped his hands together on the table. "I guess I just never realized how intense it was between you two. How serious it was."
"Care to explain what that even means, Porcelain?" Santana retorted, annoyed.
He scoffed before answering. "Are you kidding me? Santana, the way she looks at you? It's like you hold every answer possible in life. It's like you're the only person who really, truly matters in the world. Her world, at least. She looks at you like you're the soul who put the stars in the sky. Don't tell me you haven't noticed it."
Santana opened her mouth to reply but quickly shut it when she realized she didn't have a good response. Of course she had noticed how Quinn looked at her—how could she not? But Santana had never grasped how it seemed from other people's point of view. The way Kurt put it, apparently everyone else could also see the intensity in Quinn's stare.
"It's not a bad thing," Kurt said when he saw Santana lost in thought. "In fact, I would kill to have someone look at me the way she looks at you." Santana nodded in agreement but didn't say anything in return, still contemplating Kurt's original comment. Is that really how she looks at me?
While Kurt and Santana held their conversation, Quinn helped Rachel with the dishes and putting everything away.
"So," Rachel began as she handed a plate to Quinn to dry, "it seems like you and Santana are doing well."
Quinn smiled. "Yes, I'd say things are pretty good right now."
"She mentioned something about you bringing up her past a while ago," Rachel said casually.
"Yeah," Quinn answered, nodding in agreement and grimacing, "I was stupid to do that. Like I told her, I have no room to talk. My past is the farthest thing from flawless."
"You know, she talks about you constantly," Rachel told her with a smile. "I don't think you have to worry about her straying. She's yours—proudly so."
But Quinn shook her head. "No, she's not mine." Quinn glanced at her girlfriend before further explaining, "Not really. Santana Lopez doesn't belong to anyone. She can't be owned by another person. But, if you ask me, that just makes her even more attractive."
Rachel stared at Quinn thoughtfully as she processed the words. "I think that's why you two work so well together."
Quinn raised her eyebrows as she took another plate from Rachel. "Why? Because I don't try to trade her around like a piece of property?"
"No," Rachel answered, "because you recognize that Santana doesn't want to be owned by another person. You recognize it, and even more than that, you accept it."
"Yeah, well, I was serious about what I said earlier. She deserves more than just some stupid, little fling. She's worth more than that," Quinn told Rachel.
"You're good for her," Rachel replied simply, causing Quinn to smile.
Once the kitchen was cleaned up, Santana suggested stepping outside for some fresh air to Quinn, who quickly agreed. They excused themselves from the others and headed out the front door, Santana grabbing a coat on their way out. Quinn reached for Santana's hand as soon as they were in the hallway and they walked down the stairs in silence. Once outside, Quinn turned to Santana, who slipped quickly into her jacket.
"Walk with me?" she asked when Santana was done.
"Of course," Santana replied and linked her arm through Quinn's. They wandered down the sidewalk, enjoying the cool autumn breeze that drifted over them. It had cooled down since the sun set, but the air was still pleasantly warm for it being November.
"So that wasn't terrible, was it?" Quinn quipped with a small smile.
"I'll admit it wasn't completely awful," Santana answered grudgingly. "They didn't break out into song during dinner, which was a huge bonus."
Quinn chuckled. "That's true. I'm not sure I could have handled dinner and a show." Santana nodded earnestly, fully agreeing with the statement.
They walked in silence for a bit as they made their way through the streets. They didn't have a destination, and they didn't need one.
For being Thanksgiving night, the city was bustling with people. Though, it shouldn't have been much of a surprise, even if they were only in Bushwick; New York isn't called "The City That Never Sleeps" for no good reason—that remains true even on holidays. No matter what neighborhood you go to around the city, there was always an absurd number of people out and about at all times of the day.
The couple reached the outskirts of a small, secluded park and started to follow the path that weaved through it; the place had distant echoes of Central Park, but it was by no means as big and magnificent. It seemed to be constructed as an attempt to bring a piece of beauty to an area that didn't have much splendor.
Quinn suddenly came to a halt but didn't give Santana any notice; the latter, her arm still linked through Quinn's, was jerked backwards when Quinn didn't take another step forward. With confusion etched into her face, Santana turned to face the blonde, who had an unreadable expression plastered on.
"Quinn?" she prompted. "What's wrong?"
"I can't do this anymore," Quinn responded quietly, and she seemed to say it to herself. Santana instantly flashbacked to the last time she heard those words—when Quinn thought of herself as nothing but a conquest.
Santana's heart pounded in her chest. She was worried about what was going to come when she asked the question, and hoped her voice wouldn't give away her nerves. "What do you mean? What can't you do anymore?"
Quinn took a deep breath before she answered. "For the past two months I have gone through life downplaying my thoughts and emotions. I tried to convince myself that I was insane, and that what I was feeling was insane. Which is why I haven't really said a lot regarding this particular subject matter. You know I'm not good with feelings—mine or anyone else's. Up until a few weeks ago, I thought just having feelings made a person weak and vulnerable. But I can't do it anymore. I cannot keep pretending that everything is fine and great and perfect, when I'm not being completely honest. With you, with myself, and with everyone else in this godforsaken world."
"Quinn, I don't understand what you're-"
"I'm not sure of things," Quinn blurted out.
"What?" Santana asked uncomprehendingly. She genuinely had no idea where Quinn was going with this whole thing. Quinn's face had a shadow cast over it in the evening's darkness, and her features were slightly blurred because of it, but Santana could see the hazel eyes sparkling brightly.
"I'm not sure of things," she repeated. "I mean, it takes me thirty minutes to decide what color to paint my nails. I can stare at my closet for two hours and still not know what to wear. I am not sure of things." Quinn nodded to herself as though she was pleasantly surprised by how well her words came out. She took another deep breath before continuing, "But I was so sure of you, Santana. I am so sure of you."
Santana smiled at the sentiment, but could tell Quinn had more to say. She ran her hand down Quinn's arm and grabbed her wrist, tugging gently. "Okay…" Santana urged.
"Do you know the biggest reason why I haven't said anything about how I've been feeling these past two months?" Quinn asked abruptly. When Santana shook her head no Quinn went on, "Because I am absolutely terrified of what will happen when I do open up. Sure, I'm not good with feelings, but my fear greatly outweighed by lack of skills when it comes to expressing thoughts. I have all of this crap going through my head and I don't know what to do with it. But I can't tell you about it because I don't want to push you away, or scare you to death."
Santana felt a ripple of pain when she heard the dejectedness in Quinn's voice. "Hey," Santana said softly, "you know you can tell me anything."
Quinn—who was usually so calm, cool, and collected—seemed to struggle with her words and sighed heavily. "God, alright, fine…It's you, Santana, okay? Every day. All the time. It's you. It's you at 3 in the morning, it's you at 9 o'clock at night. It's you when I wake up, it's you when I go to school or work, and it's you when I come home each and every single night. I didn't want to say anything before right now because we haven't been dating too long and, as I said, I didn't want to scare you away. But also like I said five minutes ago, I can't do it anymore. It is you today, it will be you tomorrow, and it has been you since junior year of high school." Quinn's hazel stare was so fixed, so intense, Santana felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her.
"Why right now?" she asked in a strangled voice. It was all she could manage to get out.
"Why did I choose to tell you right now?" Quinn replied. Santana nodded once and Quinn bit her lip as she thought about her answer. "You do this thing," she started, "when you smile really big, you put your tongue in between your teeth. And it doesn't do anything except make me want to kiss you, because you make something as simple as that look extremely attractive. When you get really happy about something, you do this incredibly endearing scrunchy face that also makes me want to kiss you. When you get excited about something, you start talking at a rapid pace, and you begin to stumble over your words but it doesn't even matter because it's so freaking cute. And if I could only hear one, single sound for the rest of my life I would choose your laugh without competition because there is literally nothing else in the world like it. You try to act all sexy and badass, like you don't have a care in the world—and you achieve it. To some extent, anyway. Because while you are incredibly sexy and everyone knows just how willing you can be to cut a bitch, you somehow still manage to be the single most charming, adorable, lovable person to ever grace the earth."
Santana opened her mouth to answer, but no words came out. She shut it quickly and just stared blankly at Quinn, who pushed on.
"I know," she said, nodding, "that didn't answer your question. It was kind of needed as a preface. I am telling you right now because of all those things. I can't sit idly by and watch you be your cute little self without saying anything. Santana, I really don't think you understand what you do to me or how you make me feel, and I've had to be quiet for too long already. Trust me, I know how incredibly lame that sounds, but I need you to hear it. I've been insecure and somewhat reserved these past two months because I knew what would happen if I told you everything that was going through my mind. But I say it yet again, two months isn't that long of a time to drop all of this on you. I didn't want to ruin our relationship before we barely even had one." She stopped to take a breath, seemingly steeling herself, before continuing, "And then I realized I have been keeping all of this inside for 6 years. 6 years, Santana. I hope you understand, but I just couldn't be near you as often as I am and not tell you. Not this time around. I need you to know."
Santana had never seen Quinn so vulnerable and exposed. The blonde had always refused to keep her feelings and what she was thinking to herself. She never opened up to people about anything or anyone. Not about Finn or Sam, or even about Puck, who almost everyone thought was the only guy Quinn Fabray ever genuinely cared about. And now, here she was, practically laying her soul on the line for Santana's sake.
It was nowhere near what she was expecting, but it was everything Santana needed and wanted to hear. For years she had minimized herself, refusing to acknowledge her own worth. She hid behind one night stands and drunken hookups desperately wanting someone to find her and tell her she's not broken. Someone to tell her they saw the person she was, and recognized the person she could be. Someone who knew her, and accepted her in spite of all her flaws. At the very moment, Quinn stood before Santana essentially offering to be that person, and Santana knew the girl was more than up for the challenge. Quinn, who had just poured half of her heart out to Santana despite every fiber in her body that was probably screaming at her to do otherwise, had walked into Santana's life two months ago and caused a shift in the world. A shift Santana knew she couldn't just ignore and forget about because it felt too damn good.
And yet, even with them being everything Santana needed and wanted, Quinn's words also contained every little thing that Santana was downright terrified of. They contained promises and commitments and time—all of which were breakable and fragile. Quinn's words were weighed down with a certain irony: they gave Santana everything she yearned for in life, while also wracking her with fear.
That's the thing about feelings, isn't it? You can fight them and push them away; you can try to drown them and suffocate them, but they always come back, usually stronger than they were before. And it was that part of Santana—the part that stupefied and petrified her with fear—that took control of her mind and body and made her utter the only words she could think of.
"I-I…have to go."
She released Quinn's wrist and stepped around the blonde, their shoulders brushing slightly. At the touch, Santana almost turned around to look at Quinn to gage her reaction and try to decipher what she was thinking. But the terror that had flooded her body once again had its way, and Santana kept walking without a glance backwards. Walking away from quite possibly the only girl who could give Santana everything the world has to offer.