You're standing on a road in the middle of nowhere.

Something about this place looks familiar, but you can't pinpoint exactly what it is. Aesthetically speaking, there's nothing that calls out to you. It's just a feeling you have, a seed nestled somewhere inside of your chest, that is very adamant. You've been here before. You've seen what can be seen.

But that doesn't make any sense, does it? Because it's midnight, or later, and it's completely silent. The kind of silent that presses into you. This is something you would remember. You can't imagine forgetting something like this. The sights, or the feeling, or anything else. The road looks like any other road. The street lights are distanced out accordingly and the pavement looks smooth and new. The only disconcerting thing about it is how empty it is. You've been out this late before but there's usually at least one person there, even if it's someone you've never met. A car here, a bike there. Lima isn't New York City, but it isn't a hovel either. There are people out at night. Wherever you are, it isn't home. And you're all alone.

You start walking, because there's nothing else to do. The streetlights are dim and they flicker every so often. Something in your chest feels very present, but you can't tell what it is. You don't like it. It's the same feeling you get when you start to become claustrophobic. But that doesn't make any sense. There is so much area around you. So much space. You could walk for miles and there would be just as much land to see and road to journey. What could possibly be causing your lungs to tighten and your hands to shake? It doesn't make any sense, and that's saying a lot considering you just randomly transported to an abandoned road in the middle of nowhere.

That's when you realize that your legs are moving. Which makes sense, because you started to walk, but. You're not doing that anymore. And yet, somehow, you're moving. Your body is moving without your permission. A scream bubbles up your throat, and when you open your mouth, nothing happens. No noise whatsoever. You can feel the scream escaping your body, but there's no sound.

Not a scream, not the sound of your footsteps, not your heavy breaths. Not even a cool gust of wind that pushes you forward. Absolutely nothing at all.

And then, all of the street lights cut out at once.

You almost collapse to the ground at the sight of that, but you can't. Because regardless of how frenzied and panicked your thoughts are becoming, your body is still gradually walking down the same endless road it has been, and there's nothing you can do to change that. You have no idea what to do, until you look forward and see a light in the distance. You aren't sure what turned the lights off, or the noise off. You don't know what's preventing you from controlling your own movements, and you have no idea how you got here. You're alone, and mute, and scared, but... there's a light. It starts to get closer and closer (or you start to get closer and closer) and you realize two things instantaneously.

One: the closer you've been getting to this light, the stronger your hold again has become on your faculties.

Two: You can finally see where the new light is coming from. Kind of.

A silhouette in front of you is holding a lantern high up. You try to call out to them, to wait up, but your voice still is completely silent. And after a few seconds of walking closer and closer, you realize how cold it is. Your bones are starting to feel like they're unnaturally hardening, and your skin feels dry. The man (you can tell it's a man, by the shape of his frame, but you can't be sure) is turned towards you, and waits for you to get a bit closer before walking at a fast gait.

Too fast. Every time you blink, they're a step farther ahead than they were before. You almost consider calling out for him, but what's the point? He'd walk away just the same. Your legs are making the same solid pace, and you watch the steady light walk farther and farther away from you.

Soon, he's gone completely. (He doesn't even look back.)

Your feet feel like they're bleeding. Your muscles feel heavy, and your hair is uncomfortably sticking to your forehead and neck; you can feel your shirt rising up your stomach. You look down, and your stomach is getting bigger. The back of your mind is thinking something about that, but honestly it's not important when now the only light you have to guide by is the moon. Looking up at it makes you feel better, but you keep walking. For what, you're not sure. This road feels like it's never going to end.

But soon, it starts getting brighter, and you see something. Someone.

At first, you flinch, because it's the back of someone. It's always the back of someone. (Always?) And you want to turn around, to the familiarity of the dark and the solitude, but you can't. You can't move back. Not even if you wanted to. So you keep walking, and the person turns around. It's Rachel.

That ding of recognition does something. This entire experience has been horrible to say the least. (And something about the entire night feels too on the nose to settle properly on your mind or on your skin.) The familiarity of her smile and her eyes and her ridiculous outfit draws you to her. The muscles in your legs relax, and you think that you could probably stop if you wanted to. But you don't. (You don't?) Instead, you walk faster.

Her skin is glowing, and so is yours. The lights around that weren't there before flicker back on, and flutter and move around you like swooping birds.

(She looks beautiful.)

You start running, but every step you take is making the sky lighter and lighter. But it's wrong, your skin burns. The lights that were dancing around the both of you are dimming, and you don't know what to do. You take a step back towards the darkness, and another. The sky darkens, your skin is soothed, but. Rachel is walking towards you, and she frowns. Her hands reach out.

(It's okay.) She smiles again, a just-for-you smile, but you start shaking your head. Pieces are being put together.

(No, no it's not. The moon and the sun can't ever be together. It's not right, it's not to be borne.) Your voice has this strange intonation, it's the only thing that you can really hear because you're too concentrated on the fact that you can hear yourself speak again.

She takes a step closer to you, and just as suddenly as this whole thing began, she wraps you up in her arms. She's never done this before, and it almost makes you want to cry. (Why? Why does it make you want to cry? Why is your heart fluttering? Why is your skin burning?)

Rachel is now looking at you in that strange just-so way with those dark eyes and that heavy smile. (Oh, Quinn. That's sweet of you, but I'm not the sun. I'm the stars.) She replies, and it's the most obvious thing in the world that you laugh at the rightness of it all. (I can go wherever I like.)

(Not back.) You argue. (You can't ever go back.) And you're back.

The second you say that, it finally clicks like before. Panic seizes its grip over you, and you step closer and closer to her. You're free, but now she's trapped. A bubble encases her, and no matter how much you tell her to come to you, she keeps shaking her head in fear.

She's so afraid.

Your skin burns, because you're walking forward again, but you don't care. Something is wrong, it's not right, and you have to tell her. But she can't hear you. She can't ever hear you. Something is pulling her in, and her light is dimming and the sky is bright and it hurts so badly.

(You don't have to go.) You scream, but it's practically a whisper. Your voice is going away again.

(We're tethered, Quinn.)

(Then why are you leaving me?)

She still can't hear you. Rachel is turning away, and you can finally see who she was talking to, who she's chosen. (Who she will always choose.)

(Quinn has left me. Quinn always leaves me. She will not speak, and she will not turn back. The stars are always here to hear, and yet the moon always leaves. It's so quietly brilliant. But there is one who is not cold. Who will not leave.)

None of it is true. None of it is right. The stars can't be with the sun. The sun is too bright, too hot, and she's already completely gone.

He takes another step closer, and it pushes you away.

Closer, away.

Closer, farther.

(Please…) You don't know who said it, but it doesn't matter. It's too late.

Finn smirks just the same.

You wake up.