So Quinn Fabray had well and truly established that she did not simply fall in love.
But what she had with Rachel was certainly not simple.
They went out after the plays of the evening were done. Rachel didn't intimately know many of the other performers but stayed and watched them out of respect. Following each showing Quinn tagged along as the brunette gave the students an impressive critique. Quinn had come to see this as just Rachel being Rachel, and clearly so had her peers, because they took her praise graciously and her constructive criticism as intended. A few had asked who she was, and Quinn had been happily introduced to them all - she was Rachel's inspiration, her muse, her best friend.
They sat around a bar just near the school. Kurt had shown up with his boyfriend briefly before the duo disappeared into the crowd to dance. "We're getting looks." Rachel noted, leaning over towards Quinn. She did not whisper - rather, spoke at usual volume - but the music meant they had to be in close proximity or the message would be lost.
Quinn had noticed that, too. Sitting by themselves in a booth, closer than just-friends should be (Quinn had just shuffled right on in, no ulterior motives whatsoever), but Rachel hadn't protested. They'd gotten girly cocktails. Quinn had paid - it was Rachel's night. She didn't have much money, but had freed up some funds she'd had tied into an old account.
Her life savings were going to cocktails with the girl she didn't love.
Quinn had no regrets.
"That's what you get when you let Kurt pick the club." Rachel said a few minutes later, raising one eyebrow at a lesbian couple not too far off dry-humping one another against a table. She didn't seem at all upset or revolted, as some people could be, towards the show of affection. If Rachel really did go out with Kurt all the time, this must be the norm.
Quinn smiled and twirled a toy umbrella in her fingers. "They're probably all looking to take you home." She said, subtly flirting with a sideways smile and her tongue pressed just past her teeth. Rachel's sight dipped down to focus on her movement, before flicking back up to her eyes.
"Really? Whilst you're sitting next to me?" Rachel said, laughing and elbowing Quinn in the side. "Doubtful." And then her mood took an unexpected swing downwards. "Besides, I have a boyfriend."
Quinn frowned. "You don't sound too certain." It wasn't hard to act as if she was sympathetic, despite the fact that Quinn really, truly wasn't.
From her purse Rachel dug out her phone, again sliding it open to check for new messages. "I've been looking forward to this for months." She sighed, as no notification appeared on the screen. "All year. Probably the whole time I've been at NYADA. It's like my last assessment before we get to graduation. He knew that."
They were practically side-by-side, and so Quinn actually struggled to put her arm over Rachel's shoulder and pull her into a sideways hug. "Don't fret. It's your night." Her free hand took Rachel's phone, pushing it back into her sequined clutch. "Enjoy it."
"Thanks." Rachel rested heavy against Quinn's side. "I'm glad you made it."
Quinn rested her chin on top of Rachel's head. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."
As Quinn did not dwell on her supposed inability to fall in love, she tried to ignore the giddy feeling at how perfectly her chin fit atop Rachel's.
–––
There were mojitos and martinis, drinks that were like a fruit salad soaked in vodka and others with sugar-rimmed glasses. They tried all of them - or most, Quinn wasn't entirely sure. At one point Kurt had come back and told Rachel to cheer up, dragging her out onto the dance floor.
Quinn had found her hand grasped tightly, and she was yanked rather roughly from the booth, forming a line behind Kurt. She kept a hold on Rachel as if she were her lifeline, weaving through the dancing masses.
Rachel stopped unexpectedly, and Quinn almost ran into her back. She spun around, mouth open and yelling something excitedly. Quinn couldn't hear her, but with enough gesturing to the DJ Quinn understood. Well, mostly. Rachel either liked the song or she wanted to request one of her own.
Judging by the way Rachel dipped under the joined hands of a nearby couple and then disappeared completely, Quinn assumed the later.
Whilst waiting for the shorter girl to return, Quinn found herself the subject of quite a few intrigued looks. One woman, cockiness oozing from every pore and pink hair sitting in a mess atop her head, approached. Quinn smiled at the floor, flattered as she was pulled into a spin and a dip by the unknown lady. She smirked, righted Quinn, and then disappeared just as quickly as she had come.
Rachel stood there when Quinn returned to herself, an amused gleam in her eye. The music that started up from the DJ followed the nightly trend of mostly older music - 80's and 90's. The acoustic guitar instantly registered in Quinn's mind, an uncertain jolt striking her body. "I imagined this was your prom song." Rachel yelled in Quinn's ear, words tumbling over themselves as she endeavoured to finish speaking before the lyrics started. "It got cut from the play, but since I've had my time tonight, we can just pretend this is your turn."
Quinn was baffled, but as soon as she was done with her explanation Rachel dropped back down onto her feet and began to sing. Her voice was enchanting - Quinn had heard her on stage. Right now the loud music dulled out Rachel's powerful vocals which were deserving of a silent, devoted audience.
Being taller, Quinn lead the dance. She didn't really know how, but most people around them were swaying together so they likely wouldn't judge. "Lead me out on the moonlit floor." Rachel sang, eyes wide and bright. She freed up one hand from Quinn for the next lines. The words ran through Quinn's mind ahead of time, a mental karaoke prompt no child could escape the nineties without - at least not for this song. "Lift your open hand, strike up the band and make the fireflies dance." Rachel vaguely waved her hand towards the DJ in lieu of a real band, and then up to the disco ball that sprinkled squares of light out on all the dancers.
"Silver moon's sparkling, so kiss me." Quinn's mouth was dry, and Rachel obviously didn't know what the exact lyrics she was singing meant until they were out. Shock registered on her fine features. Rachel missed the start of the next verse, but she wouldn't have been able to sing anyway.
With her mouth open and such a proposition hanging openly in the air, Quinn couldn't deny her.
And to her surprise, Rachel kissed back.
–––
When they drew apart, there had been nothing awkward. Rachel had laughed and twirled and danced as if she didn't have a care in the world, as if she didn't have a boyfriend somewhere being painted the bad guy, as if all she wanted was right there on that dance floor with her.
The songs all melted into one another as they danced, close and certainly inappropriate. Quinn couldn't hide her grin. The wind had changed and her facial features now felt as if they were permanently composed in a joyous expression. But she had all the reason in the world to be smiling. Even as Rachel left her arms to go to the bathroom, Quinn danced alone. She was too happy to care that she was moving without a partner. Her body was light, as if she hovered just above the ground, propelled up by the feeling of love. A feeling she would adamantly deny if anyone cast her so much as a questioning glance.
Rachel took a while in the bathroom, and when she returned she looked... devastated. Quinn froze for a second, spying the telltale tear stains on her cheeks. And just like that she sprung back to life, making her way to Rachel no matter who stood in her way. "What is it, what happened?" Quinn's ears rang so much that even out of range of the music she couldn't really hear Rachel's response.
Rachel's mouth worked uselessly for too long, and then she pressed her phone into Quinn's hand. The image of Finn and Santana was on the screen. No message, just the picture. When Quinn's eyes focused on Rachel again she was still weakly trying to come up with some kind of explanation, some kind of reason.
But there was none. Just Quinn.
She hugged Rachel firmly then guided her to the exit. There came no protest from the girl in her arms, but when they stepped into the taxi she clung to Quinn's side. For the whole ride home they were inseparable, clinging to one another in the backseat. Quinn kissed Rachel lightly on the head, smelling the strawberry shampoo she used. It was intoxicating, just like the cocktails, just like Rachel's mere presence.
When they got home Quinn paid and stepped out first. She held a hand out to Rachel who numbly latched on to her once more. They got upstairs to her apartment, slow and steady. Rachel didn't sob loudly, but there were still tears running down her cheeks when they made it into the house - warm and fresh.
"Men are assholes, huh?" Quinn's voice was weak as she brushed away Rachel's tears.
All she received in response was a detached nod.
Quinn slowly moved Rachel to her bedroom. When she made to leave so that the brunette could undress and go to bed, Rachel didn't let go. "Don't you want to sleep?" Quinn said, heart beating a solid pattern against the inside of her chest.
"Don't leave me." Rachel insisted. Her eyes bore into Quinn's, imploring.
"I won't." Quinn gave a brief smile. "I promise."
With that Rachel removed most of her clothing, until she was clad only in the tank she had worn out and her underwear. Quinn slowly followed her lead, undressing in turn. Rachel took Quinn's hand and pulled her into bed.
They tangled together as if they spent every night that way. Quinn lay on her back. Rachel slid one leg over her stomach, head resting just above her shoulder. "Good night, Rachel." Quinn said quietly, watching as the silver moon sparkled outside.
"Thank you, Quinn." Was all the response she got. Rachel did not fall asleep straight away, her tears dampening Quinn's shirt.
Quinn just didn't have the words to say, and Rachel probably didn't want to hear them at that moment.
–––
By the time the sun rose, Rachel had gone. Quinn awoke, first registering the strange bed that was not her own. Then, slowly, she thought about Rachel. Everything that had happened the night before. Inside her feelings were mingled. There was a hope and joy and just the tiniest sliver of regret.
Quinn eventually got out of bed and got dressed. When she stepped out into the main room, Rachel was no where to be seen. She wasn't in the bathroom, nor was she in Quinn's own room. There wasn't even a signature note scrawled on the fridge in whiteboard marker explaining her absence.
Quinn was understandably worried.
But after what Rachel had been through, maybe she just needed time.
So Quinn went through her morning routine. It just wasn't the same with Rachel waking her up and giving her muesli, or - on good days - vegan pancakes. She showered and forewent breakfast, her stomach not really up to eating anything anyway.
Once Quinn was clean and refreshed, she renewed her search for Rachel.
Somehow, instinctively, Quinn went upstairs instead of down. It was the only place she could go. Once out there, in New York City, where would Rachel be? There were thousands - millions - of places that she could have sought refuge. Quinn could guess at a few, but all her hopes rested on Rachel being in the apartment building still. Or, rather, on the apartment building.
Rachel sat by the safety railing, chin resting on her raised knees, arms holding her legs close to her chest. "Rachel." Quinn called out, ignoring the deja vu she felt as she approached the edge of the roof.
When Rachel turned around, some of Quinn's anxiety disappeared. Rachel's eyes were still red, and she clearly hadn't gone about her morning ritual with her usual meticulous care. Quinn approached her hunched form slowly. Rachel worried her bottom lip with her teeth as Quinn sat down beside her.
"I broke up with Finn." Rachel said, voice fragile in the air between them. "He said he didn't remember what happened. He said he was sorry. I just... can't trust him. He ruined my big night."
Quinn let the words sink in until all that sounded between them was the signature New York white noise. Then Quinn gently reached out to coax Rachel's hand away from her legs, sandwiching it in her own.
At some point getting what she wanted had started leaving a bitter taste in Quinn's mouth.
She swallowed it and held Rachel's hand tight.
–––
author's notes: i had a crappy day but i got a sweet message that put me in the mood to write this love-y scene. happy early/australian valentines day! i have some messages to reply to which i'll get to in the morning, sorry for being slack. as always, reviews make my day. 3 thanks for reading.