I know some of you aren't happy about the short chapters, but it's short chapters or no chapters so...
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Goodnight From Me, Good Morning To You
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B02 was its usual chaotic self the following week after the party, and you expected nothing different. It was a welcomed chaos, though. One you were getting to know very well, and learning to love.
So when three quarters of the room packed up their stuff all at once and began heading for the door, you were wondering what the hell was going on.
Mike could see your confusion, and made to explain.
"The college radio station placed volunteers yesterday, and pretty much everyone here has a shift at some point. But there's a meeting right now, we have to go over ground rules or whatever."
"Everyone?"
"Almost."
"Oh." You looked down at your books and felt your throat start to close, your head rush with pain, and you really wanted the group to swallow you up whole. It just felt like another thing you were being left out of; another way to cut you out, and it was no one's fault, but why did that keep happening to you?
"Hey, look, they're always looking for people to help out. Plus, I can vouch for you, which should make it quicker, if you do want to help out there, that is," Mike said, and you bit your lip and looked up at him.
"Yeah?" God, were you pathetic wanting to constantly be included?
"Yeah. We spend most of our time either here or there, so you should come join us. Unless you'd rather spend less time with us," he joked, and you shook your head, smiling. "Great, I'll pass it Joanne, she keeps us all in line, and I'll let you know how it goes. But, it shouldn't be an issue. I'll text you later?"
"That would be great. Thanks, Mike." He smiled at you one last time before grabbing his books and heading for the door, trailing after all the others.
And looking round the room, there were about three other people who hadn't left, and that chaos you were learning to love was now sorely missed. It really wasn't the same without everyone else.
Grabbing your things, you opted to go back to your dorm room. At least you could study in your pyjamas there.
Sighing, you made the lonely walk back to the dorms and wondered how long this phase would last?
*0*0*
The following day, after a missed call and two texts from Mike, he invited you to come along to the radio station, to get a feel of the place, see if you were serious about helping out. It brought a smile to your face, and although it was getting cold outside, you made the trek across campus to its location.
The radio station really wasn't what you thought it would be. It was a small building, tucked out of sight, and honestly, getting to it was completely confusing. You only found it because you recognised the figure walking twenty or so feet in front of you.
Santana was unmistakable, in the way she carried herself, her hair, her clothing, and for once, you were glad to see her. There was just no way you would have made it on time to meet Mike if it hadn't been for her guidance, but you were never going to let her know that.
You weren't even intending on letting her know you were behind her, but when she opened the door to head inside, she glanced round, and a smirk made her way over her features. You fought an eye roll at her predictability, and the teasing or cutting remarks you were no doubt about to receive, and moved to get the door she was holding open for you.
"Stalking me?" she asked, looking you over quickly, causing you to lose your battle and give her an eye roll.
"You wish," you shot back, moving in front of her and heading down the cramped hallway.
Mike said the music library was straight down from the door, so you kept walking, fully aware Santana was on your heels this time.
"So what brings you here?" Santana asked, once you were through the main door and into the correct room.
"Mike said he could find me a job, or at least something to fill my time with." You weren't too bothered with answering her questions, but your main goal was to find Mike. He was around there somewhere.
"What? No cheerleading? You look like a cheerleader." And Santana's was enough for you to forget about Mike for a moment. What did she know?
"I was. I'm not anymore," you said briefly, curtly, and trying not to show how curious you were as to where she got that information.
"And what, your pretty little roommate, Kitty, isn't good enough for you to hang out with?" So that was her name. God, you really needed to remember that the next time you saw her. You had been calling her Cady. No wonder she hated you.
"Kitty doesn't like me."
"Can't see something like that stopping you. Hell, you don't like me and you keep showing up wherever I am," Santana shrugged as she spoke, and you wondered what her angle was here.
"Kitty and her friends don't like me. Whereas I know Mike, Sam and Tina do." She was irrelevant, so you left her out.
"I'm wounded, you don't think I like you?" she teased, and you shook your head in annoyance.
"Whatever. Why do you care?" Hell, this was the most she'd spoken to you that hadn't be filled with venom and spite.
"Just wanted to know why you were trying to make yourself a permanent home. Didn't I already say you were the latest stray? Don't get too comfortable."
You hated that her words genuinely bothered you. There was reason why they should, because Mike, Sam and Tina were great. But, Santana was like the ringleader, and she clearly didn't like you one bit, so maybe she had sway over the others. Or, rather, she could terrify Tina enough to turn against you, and no doubt poison the others into thinking you were the next devil incarnate. She would know, of course, being the current devil incarnate.
"Don't worry, I heard your message loud and clear. I'm just going to make the most of it while I can." Conversation over.
You made to walk away, but Santana stepped in front of you, blocking your path.
"How's Rachel?" she asked, and you narrowed your eyes at her, wondering what the game was now.
"Why don't you ask her yourself? She tells me the two of you have been in contact." That was the latest news, anyway. Santana said… and Santana thinks… it was truly maddening.
"We have, but I mean, after what happened with that guy, you think she's going to be okay?" Santana asked, and your blood ran cold. What was she talking about?
"What-" Her smirk was enough to make you feel ten times worse, and you stuttered some more before she stabbed the knife in further.
"She didn't tell you?" she asked, in mock surprise. "God, I thought you'd know...that's really-"
"Santana," you growled, and maybe it was your tone, your frantic eyes, or desperation, but her smirk fell.
"Rupert turned up at her door the other night, drunk and creepy. Kurt called the cops on him." Christ. How come Rachel hadn't told you? Was she okay? What was going on? "She was pretty shaken, but I think she's alright," Santana went on to explain, before seeing the closed off look in your eyes and backpedaling. "Look, I'm sure she was going to tell to you." But you shook your head, because Rachel wasn't one to keep secrets like that.
Suddenly, you felt that all too familiar fear creeping up your spine. What if Santana was going to be a better friend to Rachel than you could ever be? There was the added bonus that she had never tortured Rachel. She hadn't cruelly turned the school against her. She hadn't thrown slushie after slushie in her face. And obviously, Rachel appreciated her opinion more. So what did that say about you, when your closest friend was pulling away. Why would anyone want to be friends with you?
Why would anyone want you around?
Feeling the pain shooting up your spine, you took a sharp, shaky breath, reaching out, grabbing ahold of the first thing in sight, which was the chest height cabinet, stacked with vinyls. Santana's eyes widened and she moved forward, reaching out, holding onto your arm to help steady you, but you didn't want her anywhere hear you, so you roughly pushed her away and shook your head
Your throat was closing in, the room was spinning and you needed the get the fuck out of there. The room was changing, becoming the smashed up wreck, with the flames getting closer, the smell getting stronger, and the blood covering your face. You were back in it, you were feeling it all over again, and then someone was holding your arm again, and the wreck was gone, and Santana was back.
"-to me? You okay?" You looked at her, and pulled back again, realising where you were, who you were there to see, and what were you doing?
God, who were you kidding? You couldn't do this! You couldn't be there! None of these people even cared! Why? Why did you convince yourself that you could be their friend? Santana had made it perfectly clear that you weren't welcome, and Mike probably felt sorry for the pathetic freshman who had no friends.
"Are you okay?" Santana asked again, full of concern, but you could hardly hear her over the buzzing in your ears.
"I have to go," you murmured, turning back towards the door, and stumbling forward.
"Whoa, Quinn, wait-"
"No, don't," you stated, frantically shaking your hands at her. You didn't want her pity. You didn't want anyone's pity. You needed to get out of there, immediately.
Moving towards the door, you rushed through it and didn't look back.
You couldn't look back.
*0*0*
Holing yourself up in your dorm room was actually a really effective way of avoiding the world, and although Kitty looked at you like you were a rabid creature, you realised that with a certain glare, it was enough to get her to stay clear of the room all day.
Yes, you'd been there and done this, hiding from the world, and that's how you'd found salvation in Rosario Cruz, but this time was different. This time, you didn't even want to listen to her, because hearing her voice made you feel pathetic for finding comfort in a complete stranger.
You really just wanted to bury yourself in your covers and never come out again. But even then, the outside world had ways of making itself known.
Your phone was a constant reminder of that, as it beeped and buzzed, rang and chimed, letting you know people were trying to get in touch.
Some of the numbers you recognised, some you didn't. Rachel was the most prolific caller, however, and you knew you were going to have to speak to her. you couldn't ignore her, not after everything the two of you had been through, and not when you were worried about how she was holding up after the Rupert incident.
So the next time her caller ID came up, you plucked up the courage and decided to take the plunge. It was better sooner than later, before she had the time to get mad at you for hiding away like a hermit.
"Hey," you answered, your throat dry and your voice croaky, but that wasn't a deterrent for Rachel.
"Hey!" she sounded so shocked, so surprised that you'd actually answered, that you felt even worse. "Are you okay? What happened? I didn't get many details, Santana didn't know what was going on-"
"Santana called you?" you asked, wondering why that was the most important thing you could think of at that moment.
"Yes, of course she did," Rachel replied, like it was obvious, and you felt your mood change.
"Of course she did. Of course she called you," you muttered, exasperated.
"Quinn," Rachel said softly, and you pushed your hair away from your face, shrugging, and then wincing in pain. You back had been acting up ever since that day, and no amount of painkillers were helping you out. You were far too tense for anything to do you any good.
"What happened with Rupert?" you asked instead, not wanting to dwell on the Santana situation.
"I was going to tell you, and trust me when I say I ripped Santana a new one for that. She had no right-"
"Rach, what happened?" You couldn't help but smile at that mental image, though. You really hoped she had ripped her a new one. That was somewhat satisfying to know.
"He came over, he was drunk and yelling, banging on the door, and Kurt called the cops. He didn't get into the apartment. Nothing happened. And Santana only knows because I was on the phone to her."
"You were on the phone to her?" That stung more than not being told about Rupert, and you didn't know why. All previous satisfaction was gone, and back was its ugly cousin, contempt.
"Yeah, we've been talking," she explained, like it was nothing.
"Oh." It really wasn't.
"About you." Now, that had you interested.
"What?" you frowned, and had to rewind. She wasn't making sense. Surely you had heard her wrong.
"She saw how you weren't well at the party, and she was concerned something was wrong. She just wanted to be on the lookout for-" God no. No.
The last thing you needed was Santana finding out about the crash. She'd hang it over your head and destroy you with it, you couldn't, you couldn't have her knowing. No. No, please, God, please say Rachel hadn't told her. Please.
"Rach, she hates me. She's looking for ammunition to hurt me!" you said quickly, needing her to understand the seriousness of the situation.
"What? No. Santana doesn't hate you," Rachel scoffed, and that really wasn't the reassurance that she was taking this serious.
"Trust me, she does. She's been treating me like crap since I met her."
"She...she didn't mention that."
"Of course she didn't!" you cried out, aggravated.
"Please don't yell at me, Quinn. You introduced her, and I assumed she was a friend. Plus, you never corrected me before now." She had a point and you sighed.
"I'm sorry, I just don't want her knowing anything about me. You already mentioned I was cheerleader, didn't you?" That had to be how she knew, and that had eaten up at you since she'd mentioned it.
"I may have…" Great.
"Yeah, well, that was one piece of information too much. I don't want her knowing about Beth, being kicked out, the crash, any of it." You had too many skeletons in your closet, along with yourself since you were still in there, keeping that part of your life to yourself.
Eventually you were going to have to come clean, but not yet. There was too much. You were still trying to find your feet.
"I won't say a thing, and I haven't, not about any of that," Rachel was quick to assure you. "The cheerleader thing only came up because she commented how close we must have been in high school to stay in touch. I just said we weren't friends until Senior Year, although we moved in the same circles for a while. That's it." You knew if there were more to the story, Rachel would confess, so you swallowed the lump in your throat, and accepted what she had to say.
"Are you sure you're okay? I mean, that must have been really scary for Rupert to turn up like that." It was the closest you could get to moving onto another topic without leaving the last one in tatters. You didn't want to talk about Rachel's need fondness for Santana, though you suspected it would be lessened now that she knew Santana didn't like you, but still. You needed something else, and you were worried about her. She was your best friend, after all.
"Quinn, I promise you, I'm fine. He's...he's messed up, but if he comes back, we call the cops again, and I can file a restraining order or something. Look at it this way, normally one has to wait until their a huge star before they're stalked, I get mine before I've even landed on Broadway." It was so twisted and so Rachel Berry, you laughed.
"You'll be careful?"
"Yes, I'm being one hundred percent careful." You knew that was probably the case. After all, Rachel was the one to always carry pepper spray and a rape whistle with her wherever she went.
When you finally ended the call, you felt a little better. A lot better. But you were still tired, you back still ached, and you could do with the rest of the week to pull yourself together.
It seemed like a decent compromise, one that would get you back out into the world, but instead of thinking too hard on that, you wanted a reprieve. You wanted an escape.
As you had been denying yourself the enjoyment of the last few days, you picked up your phone, loaded the internet browser, and plugged in your headphones. Lying back on the bed, wrapped up in the comforter, you pulled up Rosario Cruz's latest radio show, from the night before.
The set was different, it was more subdued, and as was she. It wasn't exactly the upbeat tone you were looking for, but just having the music, her voice, calming you into relaxation, you could deal.
"This..this next one, and last in our night's show, is...is for...for the ghost of Grace Kelly. You know where your home is. Come back to it." Rosario played the intro, before signing off. "This is The Smith's There Is A Light That Never Goes Out. Goodnight from me, good morning to you. Enjoy." It wasn't said with her usual flare, her usual enjoyment, and actually, it almost sounded like she was in pain.
You briefly wondered if everyone was having a shitty week on campus.
But then hearing the song, letting it seep into you, take over you, you connected with it. You might have still been so lonely that it ached to your core, but with music like this, it was bearable.
Next week would be better, and if it wasn't, well, you had The Smiths and Rosario Cruz making it possible to get through it.
Take me out tonight
Where there's music and there's people
And they're young and alive
Driving in your car
I never never want to go home
Because I haven't got one
Anymore
Take me out tonight
Because I want to see people and I
Want to see life
Driving in your car
Oh, please don't drop me home
Because it's not my home, it's their
Home, and I'm welcome no more
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