Chapter Twenty-Three: The One With Various Snapchats
XXIII: It's a love story, baby, just say yes.
There's a stony silence amongst the group now. It's vastly different to the quiet when Blaine was playing – there's no magic in this moment, they're not mesmerised. Instead, it's a tense and fearful silence. No one quite knows what to say. Kurt is almost afraid to look at everyone's faces. It's only Finn, Santana, Puck, Mike and Kurt left now. Santana is still standing in the same spot, staring at the piece of flooring Brittany stood on five minutes ago.
Her eyes are glazed over, and there's a suspicious shine to them that makes Kurt think she's dangerously close to crying.
Brittany may have whispered 'no', but it couldn't have been louder. Her soft voice had devastated one of the strongest women he knows, and all with one word. No. He ponders on how it's ruined a little bit of everyone here – that word.
Santana clears her throat then, "I'm gonna go. See you guys later." No one moves to stop her.
Kurt shares a look with Mike, "You should go. I think I'm best staying here."
Sighing, "Fine. You guys owe me."
Puck is completely oblivious to the situation at hand, or very good at ignoring it, and is playing a game on his phone. Kurt tries to get his attention, but has to resort to kicking him. Puck groans loudly, "What did you do that for?"
Kurt nods his head towards Finn, trying to quietly tell Puck to comfort him. The other man rolls his eyes, "Finn, man the fuck up."
Finn pulls his hands away from his face long enough to tell Puck to 'fuck right off' and then returns to hiding.
What can he say to Finn? He isn't even sure what he thinks about the whole situation. He's as surprised as Finn is, he's as disappointed as Finn is. Jesse isn't exactly the friendliest of people, and Kurt had expected Finn and Rachel to be together as much as everyone else.
"We—we don't know what she's doing in Vegas. Do you really think Rachel would marry in Vegas? She wants a big, lavish wedding."
Puck shrugs, "They'll probably do that when they come home."
This time, Kurt throws Santana's stray packet of cigarettes at Puck, "Would you be some help?"
"I don't want to get his hopes up." Puck says unemotionally, eyes on his phone again. Kurt's patience is wearing thin with him, and he wonders what the hell is problem is. He's about to ask as much, when Puck continues, "Sam asked me for advice on a dinner with Quinn today. Can you believe that? Guppy asking me for advice. I guess it's the whole 'enemies closer' thing. He's going to ask her to move in. Move in."
Kurt wants to scream. Since when did he become the therapist for these two sad cases? He can barely keep the frustration out of his expression, and it's even harder to keep the anger out of his tone. They're not even aware of how he was crushed tonight, how he had been rejected again by the man of his dreams. It's pathetic. They're all pathetic, and that realisation makes him queasy all of a sudden.
"Hey, I got a snap from Rach. I screenshotted it – check out her new tattoo! Badass."
Finn grabs the phone from his hands, and Kurt breathes a sigh of relief. They really dodged a bullet with that one. His own phone lights up with presumably the same snap, and Kurt glances at it. He's surprised to find three snaps on his phone, but he supposes he's been pretty preoccupied for the last few hours. One from Quinn and two from Rachel.
He opens Rachel's first, and there's a picture of her smiling excitedly with a caption that reads: Quinn just rang me, can't believe it! Exciting!
Confused, Kurt barely looks at the tattoo snap. The one from Quinn proves to be much more interesting.
A picture of a diamond ring, sparkling madly against the backdrop of a white tablecloth, "Clear your diaries guys, we've got a big date ahead!"
Kurt looks up at an oblivious Noah Puckerman. Oh,shit.
She's mildly surprised by the extravagance of this new restaurant. It's Italian, her favourite, but she doesn't remark on that. Perhaps she should, perhaps it would demonstrate a little gratitude, but Quinn's busy trying to deduce how expensive the food will be.
Quinn may have gotten paid recently, but this is going to put a huge dent in her funds for the month. She tries not to let that get to her, smiles thinly at her boyfriend and follows him to their table. Sam, forever a gentleman, pulls out the chair for her. He's wearing a pair of grey slacks and black shirt, both of which make him look extremely handsome.
She's thankful, not for the first time, for his broad shoulders and amazing body. Quinn's glad she decided to dress up a little tonight, because the surrounding tables are occupied by women in long gowns, and girls in cocktail dresses.
Quinn had donned a navy peplum dress, with a round neckline, and studs lining the midsection. She has on a modest pair of nude heels and a pair of gold earrings. She crosses her fingers as she picks up the menu, hoping that the owners are generous with the pricing.
Sam pulls the menu down, almost sensing her worry, and says, "Don't stress about price, this is on me."
"Sam, you can't possibly –"
"I earn a little bit more than you, let me treat you every once in a while." She knows the mention of money is something he loathes, so she smiles and nods. Sam came from a poor background, having been homeless for a few weeks at one point, and as a consequence keeps the conversation of money to a minimum. He lives comfortably now and doesn't sweat the small amounts.
Quinn can't help but admire that – picking yourself up, dusting yourself off, and getting back on the horse.
It's only then she notices that he's sweating quite heavily, and wiping his forehead every few minutes with a paper towel. Quinn frowns, reaching across the table and grabbing his hand, "Are you alright? You look a bit.. peaky."
He grins, but it's weak, "Why, of course. Being in the presence of such a beautiful lady just makes me nervous."
She laughs, because she loves how dorky and cheesy he is, "Aren't you the charmer." Setting her menu down, having made her decision, Quinn asks casually, "So, what's the occasion? The new year? I can sure toast to that."
Sam chuckles, but it's a tad awkward. It's making Quinn a little worried about what's happening at this dinner. Surely he isn't breaking up with her – right? He would have given some warning. She would have seen the signs.
Quinn remembers her last break-up, though. The signs weren't there, she never saw it coming. When Noah Puckerman abruptly decided that he didn't want her anymore, that he was moving to New York to see bright lights and the city. When they were reunited three years later across the hall from each other, she had hated him. Slowly, they became friends again, but it hadn't been easy. He broke her heart.
She thinks she could never try it again with Puck for that reason – he can break her heart too easily.
Now, Sam is about to do the same. She knows it won't be as bad as last time; it can't be as bad as last time. It doesn't soften the blow, though.
The waiter comes and goes, but Sam is still fidgeting. Quinn can't take it anymore. She knows she's acting just as awkwardly as him, and suddenly, anger consumes her. Does he think that some expensive dinner makes dumping her okay? She doesn't want his pity, she's not his charity case. Quinn tries to calm herself, but it's to no avail. It bubbles within her until suddenly:
"I think it's pathetic you've brought me to an expensive dinner to try and dull the pain of breaking up with someone. I'd rather you send a text than act like I'm some charity case. I mean, how dare you—"
"Quinn, what are you talking about?" He asks, confusion lacing his voice. His eyes widen then, "Did Puck say that to you? I never said I was breaking up with you—"
"Why would Puck say that?"
"I don't know, because he's probably in love with you," Sam says, the words tumbling out of his mouth in rush. Quinn's eyebrows shoot up and she quickly has to mask her surprise. Puck in love with her?
She's brought back by Sam, "Oh, forget it. Quinn, I was going to wait till dessert, but the truth is.. I didn't bring you here to break up with you." He makes some sort of signal in the air, and a string quartet comes over.
They begin playing a nice, classical tune that Quinn doesn't recognise. She's about to smile at the gesture when Sam drops to one knee beside her. He gazes up at her adoringly, and she gets lost in those beautiful blues – as she does every time. Tears spring to her eyes unwillingly. She can't believe what's happening, what Sam is doing. Is he crazy? They only met six months ago, what is he thinking?
Flashes of Rachel telling Quinn about how good he is, of Santana giving her approval with her catty remarks and of Finn saying how cool Sam is run through Quinn's mind. Rachel telling her that Sam deserves 100% of her.
Above it all, she sees herself and Noah Puckerman, sitting in her kitchen several hours ago. Him telling her he didn't mean what he said on Christmas Eve. Him telling her to be happy with Sam.
She thinks he means it. Noah and Quinn are over, and this is the new chapter of her life. This beautiful man, with a beautiful heart and he wants her.
Sam's licking his lips nervously, "Quinn, I love you. You're my better half and my right hand. You make me feel alive for the first time in years, and I want to be with you, forever. I want you to be mine and me to be yours. Will you marry me, Quinn Fabray?"
Perfect, delicate drops of tears fall from her eyes, and Quinn can't even speak. The most she can manage is a tearful nod, a laugh bubbling out of her lips. Sam's expression lights up, a smile spreading wide across his face, and tears come to his own eyes. He clumsily puts the ring on her finger.
Sam pulls her close, crashing his lips to hers in a passionate, gleeful kiss. Quinn melts into it, the applause from the restaurant echoing around her.
This is what's meant to be. (Right?)
Two girls sit in Quinn's room, gushing animatedly over several magazines spread over the bed. The brunette is talking a mile a minute, pointing out gowns enthusiastically, while the blonde offers a word here and there, hypnotised by the amazing creations on each page.
Rachel isn't quite sure what to make of all the changes that occurred when she was away. There's happy and sad to every moment, she supposes. Life is all about the elated highs and crashing lows, isn't it? The apartment hasn't been the same since Brittany and Santana broke up. They studiously avoid each other, Santana taking to going over to the boys apartment a lot more, and Brittany meeting with Tina daily.
She isn't sure why Brittany is meeting with Tina so much, but knows it has something to do with concerts the girl puts on all over the world. Mike joins them for lunch occasionally, and Rachel thinks they've started dating, but she's out of the loop and behind on gossip. That would be Kurt's fault, who has thrown himself into the student government full force, swamping himself in a constant workload.
Quinn's news is at least happy. As happy as it could be – Puck hasn't been over to their apartment in weeks. Rachel hasn't even seen him since before Vegas, a trip that left her with a memento on her right ankle. A pair of ballet shoes adorn her ankle now, a memory of her dancing days, the bright lights of Broadway, and the fact that she was piss drunk.
She doesn't regret it. Much, anyway.
Jesse's is far worse. She had convinced him to get the lyrics from Wicked's 'Defying Gravity' tattoo'd across his midsection. Rachel laughs every time she sees it, and he's determined to get it removed. He's saving up for it, but Rachel thinks the whole situation is hilarious.
Quinn has asked her to be her chief bridesmaid. Brittany and Santana are her other bridesmaids, but they don't take part in the organisation as much as Rachel. It's easier that way, too; the awkwardness can get tiring.
"Hey Rachel, I meant to ask you a big favour… I know you're doing a lot already for the wedding, so you can say no, and it won't be a problem if you do. Would you mind singing at the reception of my wedding? Just for an hour –"
"Oh my god, yes! Of course I would, oh my god, I can't believe this. This is going to be great! I promise you, Quinn, I will rehearse day and night to make the night magical. I will work my little butt off to make sure I sing every note perfectly and with ease. It's going to be so much fun picking out the songs, we can—"
"You can pick out the songs, it's not a big deal." Quinn says casually, still flicking through a magazine. "Ooh, I love this one!" She points the dress out to Rachel, who makes enthusiastic noises in response. "Anyway, thanks a million. I'll only have to find a DJ then."
Rachel hesitates. "Quinn, why are you so hellbent on marrying so soon? Weddings are difficult to plan, and I say this as an event planner. Why are you doing this?"
The coldness of Quinn's stare is immobilizing, "What do you mean why am I doing this? I thought that would be obvious. I love him. I don't want to wait."
"But… if you're going to spend forever together, surely forever can wait a couple more months?"
"Drop it, Rachel."
The brunette shrugs, knowing she can often push these topics too far. She can't help but be suspicious though – suspicious and worried. She loves Quinn like a sister, but she can't help feeling sorry for Sam. If Quinn is rushing this to rid her feelings of Puck, then it's only going to end in disaster. Rachel knows she loves Sam, she knows that Quinn could be happy with Sam.
But there's always Puck.
No matter who she's dating, how she thinks they're the one. No matter how kind he seems to be, how funny he can be when he tries to be cocky. It doesn't matter because he hasn't got those same brown eyes or loud laughter. He hasn't got that same streak of care and thoughtfulness, has he? He doesn't know her the same way.
Rachel freezes. She's talking about Quinn and Puck.
She's talking about Quinn and Puck.
She swears she's talking about Quinn and Noah.
"Rachel, I saw there's broadway auditions at the moment for Funny Girl. Why don't you try out?"
Rachel's head whips up to look at her best friend, whose eyes are already on her. Her gaze is challenging, provoking, and Rachel can't look away. Her mouth runs dry, "I—I… I might."
"Don't think I haven't noticed you haven't gone to an audition in nearly a year. What's happening, Rachel? This is your dream. You've an unbelievable talent. Out of all of us, you're the one I know will make it. Please don't let that amazing talent go to waste. Please, don't forget your dream." She grasps Rachel's hand, her words heartfelt and authentic.
Before she knows what's happening, sobs are coming fast and strong. She hadn't thought anyone had noticed. She hadn't thought anyone cared.
"Q—Quinn, I.. I.." The blonde girl scrambles over to her, gathering Rachel into her arms. She cuddles her gently, soothing her with comforting words and softly stroking her hair.
A/N: Voila! Now, there's only 2-3 chapters left. Y'all pumped? A lot of peeps guessed that it was Sam/Quinn's wedding, but a lot hedged it on Jesse/Rachel, too. We'll see anyway ;)
I debated throwing an Artie/Brittany wedding in instead, but quickly decided against it.
Let me know what you think :) Thanks for reading.
CN.
Disclaimer: Glee and friends aren't mine. "Love Story" by T-Swift isn't mine either.