A/N: I owe all my lovely readers an apology. I've been really caught up with exams, and on top of that, I just couldn't get this chapter right. I'm still not really happy with it, but I owe you an update. I promise this fic isn't abandoned. Thank you, readers!

Three hundred and seventy

"Here's your notebook."

Rachel doesn't notice Quinn until she says the words, her head is too buried in her books as she copies down notes about- well, something or other, she's suddenly forgotten. She looks up, intaking her breath sharply as she takes in the presence of Quinn. Her voice seems loud in the quiet page-flicking and pen-tapping of the library, although in reality it's as soft as silk.

"Oh. Um. Thanks." Rachel takes it from her, setting it down on the desk beside her.

"You left it in th-"

"Yeah."

"Well. Um, bye." Quinn turns slightly with the inclination to leave.

"Did you..." Rachel trails off, looking expectantly at Quinn. She doesn't really want to flat out accuse Quinn of reading it, but she needs to know.

Quinn's silence speaks volumes; her goldfish mouth and embarassed, downcast expression is the sequel accented with a rosy blush. "I..."

Rachel was suddenly angry. In frustration, she began packing her bag, shoving everything in there haphazardly in her lightning rage. "I can't believe you woul-"

"It's not like I-"

"Forget it," she says. Both their voices are far too raised for the library, earning them an ignored tutt from the librarian. Rachel slings her backpack over her shoulder and heads out the door. She's angry at herself for being angry. It's a vicious cycle. What was she expecting, she wonders. Did she really think Quinn had any respect for her at all?

Quinn stands, dumbfounded for a minute, but she eventually runs after Rachel, catching the flicker of her figure pushing open the girl's bathroom door as she does so. Quinn hesitantly stands at the door for a moment, feeling as if she should knock. She opens it to find Rachel, staring in the mirror. Her head is bare, entirely bald. The wig lies on the floor and Rachel's staring at herself in the mirror with a disgusted look on her face. Quinn stands in the doorway.

Rachel's crying.

"Rachel?" she says softly, closing the door behind her.

"What do you want?" she chokes out.

"Nothing."

Rachel catches her glance in the mirror.

Quinn walks over slowly and leans herself against the sink next to Rachel, who doesn't stop crying, still choking out sobs. Her mascara streaks down her face, her eyeliner's vanishing. She looks fragile, like a girl made of glass. This is the first time she's cried. She's felt sad. She's almost given up. But not yet cried because of this.

The glass girl begins to calm down, wiping the streaks from her face. "Could you stop looking at me like that, please?"

"Like what?"

"Like you- like, I don't know." Rachel stares at the grotty sink in front of her, eyeing the cracks in the marble to avoid Quinn's gaze.

The other girl bends down and picks the wig off the floor, gently shaking it free of the dust. As she did so, she spoke. "I'm sorry. I didn't read it all- I know I shouldn't have, but..."

Rachel grips the sink harder in frustration, sighing and looking up at the ceiling. "No. You shouldn't have. But you know, it's not even about that."

Quinn doesn't say anything. She doesn't need to ask, because the words are already coming.

"I- I'm just so angry and sad all of the time. It's like I'm living in a drama movie. And just look at me. I'm some pale shred of who I was, bald and stupid and the wig doesn't look right and I just feel-"

Quinn puts a hand on Rachel's shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. Rachel turns to look at her. The light glimmers through the ajar window across both their faces.

"You're still beautiful," whispers Quinn.

"You think so?"

"Yes."

Rachel brushes a flicker of hair out of Quinn's eye.

Quinn breaks away from her, her hand floating down to her side. "I- I uh, have to go." She leaves the wig on the side of the sink as she almost runs out of the bathroom, her shoes clicking on the tiled floor.

Rachel waits for a moment. She gives herself a long, hard look in the mirror, and puts the wig back on. It feels more like a mask than anything else.