Haircuts don't fix problems.
And even when it's happening, Quinn knows that it won't change anything about what's happening to her. She's not exactly sure what it is, but now that it's more tangible she almost wants to protect the world around her from it. All she can do instead is stare at her reflection. She looks up from the mirror, and sees the barely recognizable faces of the two girls who brought her here. Brittany and Santana are trying their best, but in the end they're teenagers and they aren't equiped to handle the possibility that Head Cheerleader Quinn Fabray is broken beyond repair.
Gosh, broken beyond repair? Your inner monologue sounds like a middle school Creative Writing assignment. Toughen up, Fabray.
Both of their bodies are in sync as they smile at her, completely oblivious to the fact that she's coming apart at the seams.
She smiles back. It's enough for now.
As hair chunks drop to the ground and the hairstylist circles around her chair, she remembers the taste of wine coolers and broken dreams, of Finn's sweaty palms and Puck and Sam's almost-love. She can't even tell if she used to be happy, but whatever that feeling was - she wants it back. Because that feeling, the juggling act of being the perfect specimen... it was a lot more bearable than falling face first into failure. The idea before that she was just taking things too seriously back then doesn't feel right when all of her fears basically came true in one dinner party.
The robe wrapped around her almost puts too much pressure on her neck, and it bites at the back. Quinn swallows, and tries to keep her eyes focused on her own instead of at her... friends? She wonders how long it will take before they succumb to each other the way they always have. A month? Less? Brittany and Santana have never done anything in the right order, but it doesn't matter. It's not her problem. She doesn't have it in her heart to tell them that all things come to an end. Let them stay deluded for a little while longer. It almost gives her pause, because sometimes her thoughts are so much different than what they used to be that it almost makes her sad how sad they are, like she's a spectator watching poetic justice take place.
When she's finally done and she stands up, she feels lighter than she ever has before. The women in the salon are saying things like you look beautiful and summer cuts are all the rage and do you feel better? you look so much lighter in your step.
Do you feel better? She feels like a balloon with one less rock tethering her down. Maybe one day she'll just go - up up up -
Santana (Brittany? Who knows anymore) throws money at the main desk and goes back to the other to play the step forward step back game some more. She wonders if they know how palpable they are. She can practically feel the heavy glances on her skin. Quinn's never cared much for fairy tales, but she's sort of glad that one of the few things she always took for granted is finally falling back into place. Even if it means that she'll fall back into their peripheral thoughts like she always does when their love gets too big for them to handle. Which is fine. She's used to it by now.
They leave the salon.
For the rest of the day, she doesn't feel anything. Hours can melt away when she just rides with the current that's always pushing her. That storm of anger that had been building in her chest all year, once escaped, hasn't come back yet. She can't find it in herself to even care that they didn't win Nationals. She holds Santana back as needed when the girl attacks pretty much everyone around her before Brittany steps in. Quinn disappears into the cracks of the rooms they move through to get to the airport.
(She never realized how easy it was for her to just disappear from people's thoughts. Or maybe she always did.)
There's a book bin at one of the stores near their gate, and Quinn looks through it while everyone else buys mugs and t-shirts. Most of the books are prayer inspirational or paperbacks with a half-naked couple staring deep into each other's eyes with a sunset background. Her fingers drag across the bindings of them all, feeling for something she doesn't know that she's looking for. The sight of book next to book on top of book is comforting if only by a little. Part of her wants to buy all of them and the rest of her wants to light a match, just to see what would happen. She does neither, and instead tries to find something good enough to make people leave her alone but also with the ability to let her sink into it and not think about things for a while. The option of flying home in silence is nonexistent when she's sitting in the same row as Kurt and Mercedes, unless she has a book to read. Her glare doesn't work the way it used to. Everyone in the Glee Club considers her declawed now.
"Lucy?"
Her eyes dart up immediately, her heart in her throat. "What?"
Her vision is blurred for a moment in fear, but a second later her brain registers a face.
Tina's eyebrows furrow, and she repeats herself. "Quinn? Are you... are you getting anything from this store?"
She couldn't even remember the last time she talked to Tina. She is one of the few people in the club that annoys her the least. The only time she came into her radar lately was looking at the girl in front of her and realizing how differently she looked compared to last year. She'd be worried, but people change in high school, don't they? She feels pretty stagnant lately, but maybe she used up all of her change last year. At any rate, she looks happy with Mike. He's a good guy if there ever was one.
Quinn's right hand darts down and picks up a book at random. Without even looking at the cover, she brandishes it like a shield. Tina's eyes dart to the cover and she can finally exhale. She'd never noticed before how Tina was one of the few people who stared intently at who she talked to. But at least she wasn't as bad as - "This. For the flight back."
"Oh. Are you getting any souvenirs?"
"Why?"
"... to remember the trip."
This is probably the only time she'll ever leave Lima again. Regardless of how even her low expectations of the past few days weren't even met, she can't imagine a day where she can't remember the first and last time she left her jail cell.
"I'll be fine."
Tina tries to keep a conversation going, but after that Quinn's done. A few seconds later of silence, and she walks away; Quinn is left with an empty heart and a heavy hand.
She walks up to the register and purchases her third copy of The Bell Jar.
They're sitting in plastic chairs waiting, and it's been ten minutes since Tina saw her slip. For some reason, Quinn expected the heavy weight of her classmates' expectations of her happiness to settle on her shoulders. She'd seen it before, during the pregnancy. In between the weeks and months after the mistake and before the reveal, they were all too fine with easing their collective concious by singing a song and hoping for a miracle.
They've only done it once, but somehow that was all they needed to do for her to be eternally disappointed after.
Everyone is sitting a few seats away instead, quietly talking about everything under the sun but Nationals. She can hear snippets of conversation. Is Puck throwing a start of the summer party? What happened to Matt Rutherford, has anyone heard from him since he transferred and disappeared from the radar? Rachel and Finn, Finn and Rachel? It's only been a few weeks since Finn erased her from that equation, and she can't decide whether or not she even wants him back or not. She'd heard of the expression third time's the charm, but it probably isn't applicable. Words and phrases and soon to be broken promises of hanging out during the summer are tossed around like keepsakes, and no one mentions her once.
Quinn cracks open her book, and tries to read some of the first chapter. She's started this book at least half a dozen times, but never could finish the first chapter before putting it back down. There was something in it, a trail of familiarity, that made her ignore it. This time, it only takes a sentence. The same season, the same city... it felt too different. Too the same. She closes the book again, and stares at the silhouette of the young girl's legs and shoes. It's so anonymous, the girl could be anyone. Quinn swallows, and her head feels heavy.
Even though the romance of it almost frightens her, she really does like the come and go of an airport. She's sitting in a busy intersection, and New York is a pitstop of some far-out places. She'll never see as many people in her lifetime as she will in this one span of time. Beautiful people cross her eyeline, and her heart almost aches at the sight of it all. Have they ever spent a day in complete silence? Have they ever worn a mask over a mask over a mask to the point where they're afraid there might not be something underneath them all? Did they ever let themselves feel the warm embrace of a child newly born, or did they too know themselves to well to allow such a thing? When did they last cry? Or eat bubblegum, or go to the movies? Who are they?
She tucks the book back in her purse, a hidden keepsake. Her eyes dart closer to home, to the others, eyes following ears; and she stares at them for a while before moving on to the next. Sam, Puck, Finn... Rachel. It would be too easy to slip in next to a conversation and pretend that she's a part of it, but she can't risk it. Even now when she knows that no one would even consider bringing her into the conversation, her hopes mix in with her fears and she assumes the worst. Because what if they did? What could she talk about with them that would even matter at this point? Quinn already has dealt with one family that was very good at pretending closeness, she knows how the game works. Just because these people weren't as good at the Fabrays at hiding their animosity, that didn't mean that she was going to show her throat and let them rip her apart.
Instead, she closes her eyes and imagines it instead. Walking down to the empty seat next to the group. Entangling her arm with another and letting them make her happy, even for a moment. Talking about music or clothes or school or whatever it is people who aren't fixated on their own emptiness talk about. All the reward with none of the heartbreak. She stays that way until the plane arrives.
The book never leaves her bag the entire time she's in the sky.
Instead, she concentrates on the little things. The pressure against her body as the flight takes off. The pressure in her head that only barely subsides by the time they're where they're supposed to be in the sky. The quiet murmurs of the people around her, adjusting seats and turning small ceiling lights on and off.
Someone clears their throat next to her, and she finally looks to see who is sitting directly to her right. Oh.
Rachel's hair is casually pulled into a ponytail, and her nose is stuck in a biography by someone named Donald Spoto. Enchantment: The life of Audrey Hepburn. It's enough to make her reach out and almost make contact, but just barely. Instead, she just stares at Rachel for a long-moment. This girl her enemy - obstacle? intruder? - for so long, it feels strange to sit next to her now that the girl beat her. Rachel won, but her prize is nowhere to be found. She must have been staring longer than she realized, though, because brown expressive eyes look over and meet her own. "Oh, hello Quinn." After a few seconds of silence, Rachel takes that as permission to keep talking. "Are you upset with me too?"
For some reason, the first thing she thinks of is Finn and Rachel. She almost laughs, because when will that stop being her first reaction? Maybe she's tired of talking about Finn Hudson. It wouldn't be the first time. (She wished that Rachel knew how to hide her emotions better. But it wouldn't be the first time she thought that too.)
"Why?"
It's the second time she's said that today. Quinn's tired of admitting that she's out of cards to play, out of chips to cash in. But as soon as the word escapes, she realizes what Rachel's talking about before she gets a chance to explain it to her. "If you mean about Nationals... no. No, I'm not." The ironic sadness of her life these past few weeks have become pretty predictable.
Rachel relaxes in response. The idea of Rachel being relaxed around her would have been so ridiculous a year ago that she doesn't even know how to respond to Rachel's "Oh" other than a halfhearted nod. "Well, that's a relief. You're probably the only one in the group who isn't mad at me right now." Quinn watches Rachel swallow back more. A whisp of concern floats through her thoughts before it disappears again before it has the chance to mean something.
"Besides Finn." She can't help but say it, and Rachel's response is a heavy stare back. She doesn't say anything about it, and Quinn isn't sure what to make of that. She's not naive enough to assume that means anything. Finn has been on Rachel's radar so intently for the past two years. She can't remember the days when her slushie target was marching around with Fame in mind.
She turns back around, and stares at the seat in front of her again. Rachel never knows when to quit, but she's had a lot of practice at it. Her arms are tightened in anticipation as she waits for Rachel to force conversation on her, but after a few minutes there's still nothing but silence. That is, until she feels Rachel's arm press against hers on the arm rest. Quinn's too stubborn to move it, and Rachel's too oblivious to not claim something that might not even be hers to claim, so they stay that way the entire flight.
Quinn can't help but be fascinated at how just as suddenly as she appears in Rachel's attentions, she disappears without a trace.
(Does Rachel ever fear her mask slipping? Does she even have one?)