A/N: wrote this fast and furious, so please excuse any grammar/spelling errors or gaping holes in logic. I just really needed to get it off my chest, if you know the feeling.
As always, my tumblr is abrokenkindofperfect, so look me up there. I love to talk, and I take prompts for drabbles (some of which end up over here if I like them and they're relevant/long enough!)
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it isn't mine.
...
She's sitting in her room on her plush white carpet, cross-legged oblivious to the world around her, when she finally crumbles. She couldn't tell you what happens; she'd just try (and fail) to explain a ripping in her chest, an indisputable knowledge that comes as suddenly as the torrents of rain as they pound against her roof. Her life has been all guesswork thus far, a try-try-try philosophy that has gotten her into the deepest trouble she could ever imagine. It works. This, though. This is new. She's familiar with tears, certainly (too familiar, certainly), but not the loud, heart-wrenching sobs spilling from her lips.
Stop it, she thinks, stop. You're Quinn Fabray. You're above this, you're better- 'IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou-'
She can't help but shut her eyes tightly and try to hold on to some shred of sanity while her everything falls down around her.
The rain pours, her heart stutters, and the world spins madly on.
…
She's a girl with too much to say and not nearly enough audacity to say it.
She loves him, and he's killing her on the inside, but she doesn't know how to make sense of any of it in her head when he turns to her and asks, "Can you keep a secret?"
…
She can. She's been keeping one for a long time.
She's loved him ever since that first night shhhhhhhh.
She won't tell. She'd never tell. She can't tell.
(She wants to tell.
She won't.)
…
She's in her room, door locked tightly even though she's home alone (as usual), and she swears her sobs must be rocking the very foundations she's standing upon. It's as if she's stepping out and finding empty air where there should be stone. It's as if nothing is real anymore because he was her everything. She's left with nothing.
"I love you," he'd whispered, and she'd turned over, pretended to be asleep because that was the easy way out. He hadn't reacted, instead sighing contentedly and resting his hands behind hers, close enough to touch but not quite doing so, as if he'd expected that reaction all along.
…
She'd cried herself to sleep that night.
Another secret she'll never tell.
…
Sometimes she smiles at him, sweet and sly like she knows something he doesn't. His gaze then is deep enough to fill her, deep enough to make her wonder exactly how she ever thought he could be as dumb as a rock. He's observant and perceptive and quick to make connections with a heaping side of lazy and lack of judgment.
It shouldn't be appealing to her, this mix of attributes she never wanted in a guy.
He'll never give her a picket fence or a four-door passenger vehicle with cruise control and automatic windows; he'll never live up to the standards she's been subconsciously setting for years. He'll never be that guy she was trying to make herself perfect for.
He loves Quinn, person as opposed to Quinn Fabray, captain of the Cheerios devoted to God attends banquets loves kittens dresses perfectly size two blonde supermodel.
He's not what she's been asking for her whole life. She's far from that girl when she's around him, smiles too big and showing her bottom teeth (she hates her bottom teeth), and some days she thinks he likes her better broken. In all honesty, that might be okay.
...
His whispers burn her flesh, fighting her mind and the little pieces of resistance within her until she's drained, exhausted, too weak to put up a decent opposition. He takes her heart and her eyes and her lips and her everything (everything). He breaks down her walls one by one (and he doesn't do it gently) until there's nothing there but her soul, bare and naked and vulnerable.
And then he takes that, too.
Review?