Chapter Twenty-Four: The One With The Confessions.
XXIV: And we should be together, babe, but we're not.
Things seem to snowball from February. Time passes as if she were sitting watching a movie, seeing her friends and family progress, seeing everything change like it never has before. She knows that's the age they're at – late 20s, everything is starting to change. People are growing up, getting their act together.
In late February 2010, Kurt moves out of the boys apartment and in with his college friends. They see a lot less of him after that.
In March, Puck finally gets a chance to come over and congratulate her on her big news. They hug for a few seconds, and she feels like it's goodbye.
Later in the same month, both Brittany and Mike join Tina's touring concert. Mike quits his job and practices all day, every day with both Brittany and Tina. There are fifteen dancers in total. Quinn's been along to several of their rehearsals, and it's impressive to say the least.
April sees Rachel audition for Funny Girl. She surprises no one when she gets the role, and everyone goes out to celebrate, causing them all to be in the same room – a rare occurrence now. Santana and Brittany stay on separate sides of the room, Puck doesn't speak to her and Kurt leaves after an hour.
When Brittany and Mike leave to tour the country in May, Mike announces that he and Tina have been dating since January. He tells Quinn that he's going to marry her someday, that he hopes him and Tina will always be as happy as her and Sam. She wants to tell him that she hopes they're a lot happier.
She has a pregnancy scare at the end of May. In that defining moment, when she's so sure she's pregnant with Sam Evans' baby, Quinn doesn't feel happy. She doesn't feel blessed. She feels empty. The relief when she finds out she's not pregnant, coupled with Sam's crestfallen expression, makes her feel like the worst person in the world. Quinn has always wanted kids. Why doesn't she want them with Sam? Is it a right now, or never problem?
Blaine moves into the boys apartment in June. He brings a different dynamic, and for a little while, there's some energy pumped back into their halls. He begins to hang out in their apartment, bringing Puck and Finn with him occasionally. They all start to enjoy each other's company again, and the tension that was so tangible starts to melt away beautifully, like snow in the summer sun. Quinn gets her old friends back, and Blaine provides the glue to their Friday Night sessions. Kurt, Brittany and Mike are missing, but they manage to still have fun. It breathes a new life into them all.
This all comes crashing down in August, when Jesse St. James asks Rachel Berry to move in with him, and Rachel Berry screams yes so loudly that Quinn hears from her room. Thinking it might be an engagement, she runs out to see Jesse handing his girlfriend a key. The sight makes Quinn nauseous for reasons she can't explain. She thinks it's the sound of Finn's heart breaking, but can't be sure. Brittany and Mike return at the end of month.
It's September now. It's the night before her wedding; the dinner rehearsal. She wants to be happy, and she succeeds in projecting that image, but she can't truly find it in her to be happy. Quinn cries more often that she's willing to admit. Her friends aren't speaking, several of them are acting like tonight is a funeral and she can't even muster the courage to speak with them.
She can't muster the courage to speak with Puck.
Quinn mingles amongst her friends, Sam's friends and family, her own distant family, but she keeps her distance with most of her closest friends. Rachel is getting ready to sing a few songs after dinner in preparation for tomorrow, which is a little inconvenient, because Rachel is who Quinn has clung to throughout this entire process.
Rachel is in the prime of her time, starring on Broadway, living with her boyfriend, having it all, really. Her and Jesse have been arguing, but Quinn figures that it'll be ironed how within a few weeks of living together. Sam and Quinn haven't even lived together and they're getting married. A permanent tie to each other.
Forever.
Sam likes to say that – forever and always. He says it as if it's romantic, but it suffocates her a little bit. She can't remember the feeling of butterflies at hearing those words, and wonders if she ever found them romantic. She doesn't think she did, but she could be wrong. She's been wrong before.
But, no, this is just cold feet. Rachel reiterates it to her daily. It's just cold feet – her being the commitment phobic person she is. That's all.
She feels someone's gaze and turns to find Finn sitting across from her, his eyes steady and sad all at once. Quinn knows he's annoyed with her. He's annoyed at the wrong person. Finn's taking out on her all his frustrations with Rachel.
Her and Puck are not the same thing. Finn doesn't have the right to be annoyed on Puck's behalf.
Puck doesn't love her. He doesn't need her. It's a mutual feeling.
Quinn sighs, swallows her feelings, and continues on with her night. It's going to be a long one.
There's a small stage at the top of the room, small and modest, but it suits Rachel just fine. There's no real backstage, just a curtain to the side to offer her a dramatic entrance. She has an array of items behind the curtain, in that small corner, to help her prepare. She wants this evening to be perfect for her best friend, and it isn't exactly going according to plan so far.
She supposes that's her friends fault. Rachel doesn't know why, but there's suddenly a strain between all of them. Even she feels it, and she thinks it's ridiculous she can't explain her own emotions. Rachel can't fathom why she would feel this way around certain people, unless – no. She has to stop thinking like that.
A beaming smile spreads across her face as she spots a jar of honey resting on her stool. She actually feels a little emotional for a moment, having recently been frustrated with Jesse's lack of thoughtfulness and care, and cradles the object foolishly. She peaks her head out of the curtain, searching for her boyfriend among the sea of dinner tables. He's supposed to be sitting next to Sam, and this causes a little sense of alarm to erupt within her.
She does, however, catch eyes with Finn. To her surprise, he waves timidly at her from his place beside Mike. Rachel hesitantly smiles, returning the wave. She's distracted then by seeing Jesse walk out the double doors at the back of the room, pulling on his jacket.
Mystified, Rachel throws her things down and runs from the stage. She races to catch up with him, pulling his shoulder back roughly when she finally does. The act of reaching up to grab his shoulder causes her to stumble into his back. He curses, "Hey, what's – Oh, Rachel, what are you doing?"
This should be the happiest time of her life. Of all their lives.
"Where are you going? I know you don't smoke, even though I caught you that one time last month, but it'll wreak havoc on your vocal chords, just you wai-"
"I'm not smoking, I'm leaving," He replies, an edge of irritation to his voice. He runs a hand through his hair, the curls making it difficult. He eyes her hesitantly, and continues, "I've a lot to do tomorrow, and I'll need a full night sle—"
"Excuse me? Tomorrow is the wedding, and if I can cope with little sleep, so can you. It's eleven o'clock, Jesse!"
He scratches the back of his head, having the decency to look a little abashed, "Yeah, I'll only make it to the ceremony. I have an audition later in the afternoon that I can't miss."
Rachel stands there, unresponsive, wondering if this is just a dream. Is her boyfriend seriously suggesting he miss her best friend's wedding, which she is maid of honour at, for a lowly audition? She knows it's not Broadway, or anything highly esteemed for that matter, because he would've been practicing like crazy.
"I—I'm so sick of the arguments between us. Can't you just have a little bit of sensitivity for one second?" Her eyes water, treacherously, and she sniffs loudly. Why does she always have the worst choice in people? "I thought the honey was a throwback to the start of us, that it was a reminder of all we are… That maybe it was a sign of things to come… But—but it's not at all."
"Wait, wait, Rachel, what are you talking about? What honey?"
The deafening reply echoes in her ears, pounding in her body until she can't even look him in the eye. Her mind races frantically to recall a conversation between them about him giving her honey before her auditions and shows. What about the honey in her bag before her broadway audition?
The jar of honey the opening night of Rent?
Had everything been built on a lie? A fairly inconsequential one, at that, but it still causes Rachel's body to tremor slightly. The realisation astounds her to her core, and she wonders if any thoughtful act she attributed to Jesse was actually him.
If she's honest with herself, the honey isn't a big deal. It's only the shiner on their deeply running issues. In the way he leaves before she wakes in the morning, in the way she closes her eyes every time they have sex, in the way they barely kiss anymore; in the way that when she pictures her future, it's never him standing beside her.
"Then—then who…" She trails off in confusion, casting her mind back. Did Quinn do all this?
Jesse sighs, as if the conversation is an effort, "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow morning for the ceremony."
"You leave and it's over, Jesse." She's surprised by the firmness in her voice, by how sure she is of herself. Rachel's been with him for the guts of a year; this isn't how she wants things to end. She loves him on some level, she lives with him – and yet, this can't be it. This can't be what inspires people to write sonnets, it can't be what Romeo and Juliet kill themselves over and what drives other people to acts of great passion.
He snorts, "You're going to end a relationship over this? Grow up, Rachel. We love each other, this isn't something you give that up for. We're good together, we make sense."
Rachel shakes her head, no longer trying to push back the droplets of water that fall from her eyes. She raises her hand to her mouth, cupping it gently, as if catching the sobs in her mouth, "This doesn't make sense."
Jesse waves her off, "I'll probably hear you come home tonight, we can talk when you're being more rational."
"I'm not coming home, Jesse." Despite the tears and the shakes, her voice is steady as she delivers the final blow. Rachel's not sure where it's coming from or whether she'll regret it later, but in this moment, this is what makes sense.
He keeps walking, raising a hand to acknowledge her words, but not stopping to heed them. Sobbing uncontrollably, Rachel shakily lowers herself onto the steps. The cool marble of the hotel steps feel nice against her bare legs. Her head aches, her body burns and her eyes continue to leak.
"Rachel?"
She closes her eyes at the voice, desperately wishing it away. This is the one person she definitely doesn't want to talk to right now. Rachel's been avoiding him, been avoiding this moment. He's always there though. It's amazing, because whenever Rachel is in a bad situation, whenever things aren't going right and the world is imploding on her, he's there.
He sits down beside her, wrapping his arm around her with ease. She falls into his embrace, pressing her face into his shirt, relishing the comfort. Rachel has always felt safe in his embrace; it's like home.
He pulls back for a moment and confusion floods her, "Rachel, you're freezing. Here, take this," Without further question, Finn takes off his suit jacket and wraps it around the smaller woman. His eyes are soft, searching her face for an answer to her cries. "What's wrong?"
As if by magic, or some unseen force, the pieces of her puzzle fall into place. Since she's known him, he has had a way of doing that. Not just with her, but with everyone. He is the knight in shining armour that no one asks for, but is there without question every, single time. He's the hero that saves without the pleas for help.
And everything makes sense. It's never been Jesse doing thoughtful things for her. It wasn't some conceived, imagined standard Rachel had been trying to hold Jesse to; it was the Finn standard.
Jesse wasn't kind, thoughtful, warm and humble. He didn't make her heart beat erratically.
She's stopped crying now, but the emotions running through her ensure that her eyes are still glistening. Rachel can see how unsure Finn is, how uncomfortable he is around the abundance of tears. He wants to fix it – like he does with everything – but doesn't know how.
"It was you, wasn't it?" She says, gently, her voice barely above a whisper. Rachel can hear the awe in her own voice.
Finn's immediately suspicious, gauging her carefully, "That depends… are you happy or sad because of it?"
Happy or sad. Perfectly Finn, because the emotions must fall between those two in his mind. She laughs, genuinely amused by the turn of events, and curses her own stupidity.
"The honey – it's you that sends it to me, isn't it? The fiver on the kitchen table for lunch on the last Thursday of every month, because I'm always broke and getting paid the next day. The person who helped Quinn find the perfect audition for me – It's you.."
Immediately, she can see him flush, even in the darkness of the night. He stumbles over his words, appearing completely baffled as to how she found out. His eyes are downcast, blinking rapidly, his hands are twisting each other in his lap. The dark illuminates his broad physique, towering over her even as they sit, and she smiles.
"I—I guess that… That I didn't want you to think I was—"
He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. Rachel pulls him down, swiftly, and kisses him. It's tender and soft; lingering and chaste. She pours every emotion she feels into the action, praying that he understands, praying that he feels the same. Finn, after several seconds, finally responds to her. With a passion she forgot they both had, his hand comes to her waist and pulls her body flush against his. Rachel's almost sitting in his lap now, the heat from his body is warming her, as well as the rush of desire in her veins. The kiss, so innocent, so romantic, is perhaps the most lustful kiss she's ever had.
"Woo, go Finchel!" Two sets of cheers are heard behind them, and both Finn and Rachel start laughing. They break apart, foreheads resting together, and look to the side. Brittany and Kurt stand at the top of the steps, sporting giant grins and clapping enthusiastically.
"God, it's about time – maybe we should start calling you Ross, Finn."
"That's silly. You can call them that, but I'm going to call them Lobster One and Two."
"One, two, three, shot!" Santana and Puck throw back their sambucca shots, relishing how it burns on the way down. Shaking her head at the taste, she shares a wince with Puck. Both of them are extremely familiar with the drink, but it doesn't ease the transportation from their mouth to stomach.
She's not sure how long they've been sitting at the bar – long enough to be a little tipsy. She's surprised they're not extremely intoxicated, and rather proud of the fact. They endured the day without getting shitfaced, two points to Puck and Santana. She wonders if tomorrow will fare as well.
Seeing guppy lips and queen bitch get married tomorrow is the last thing she wants.
Santana glances around for the happy couple and spots them in the corner, chatting with some older relatives. A lot of people have left at this stage, and it's mainly close friends and family remaining. She couldn't care less about the people mingling amongst each other, trying to bridge the gap between the brides side and the grooms side. Santana would rather sit with Puck all night, nursing their sorrow.
She saw Brittany several times already, and is striving to avoid another tense encounter.
Mike's approaching, and Santana curses, turning back to the bar, "Shit, Mike's coming over..."
"You do owe him an apology," Puck observes, moving on his stool so that he can see the man coming towards them. She sees him nod to their friend. He's useless.
Sighing, Santana faces her earlier mistakes and turns to Mike, "Look, Chang, I'm sorry for earlier. My knickers were in a twist and I took it out on you. And, you know, I was never good with dry spells—" Mike cuts her off there, saying he doesn't need to know, and she smirks. She honestly hadn't meant to go off on Mike earlier. It's not his fault he and Brittany are best friends now.
There are two camps though, that much is clear. There's Mike, Brittany, Blaine, Quinn and Rachel. The happy ones, they're also known as... And then there's the downers, which includes Santana. Shocker. Santana is accompanied in her misery by Finn, Puck and Kurt. They're quite a team, really. Making everyone miserable and reeking unhappiness everywhere they go! Go, team!
She shouldn't have been rude to Mike, but she can't help feeling jealous. He's been with Brittany the last two months and Santana hasn't – it's really as simple as that. Time doesn't heal, it makes things worse, and she just misses Brittany more than ever. She even hooked up with one or two girls back in March, when she was still in the fiery stages of the break up, but it was never like Brittany.
Part of her wants to swallow her pride and apologise. It's her pride that has caused all of this. Brittany had been right, she was proposing for the wrong reasons. It had been out of jealousy of Artie, rather than love for Brittany. If she ever gets the chance to propose again, it will be out of the sincere emotion she has for the woman.
God, if she ever says that out loud, she thinks she may as well lie down right now and take punishment because that is downright sappy.
Kurt sits himself down beside Santana then, interrupting Mike and Puck's conversation, "Well, Brittany's gone for the night. I just saw Rachel and Finn make out, as well. All in all, I give the night an 8/10."
"That's generous," Santana says. She holds her hand up, "Hang on, Brittany's gone?"
Mike answers for her, "Yeah, she said she had to pack a few things up. I don't know how we're supposed to fit our lives in a suitcase."
"Fit… fit your lives in a suitcase? What the hell are you talking about?"
Kurt and Mike share a look, one that panics Santana more than she would like. Puck appears as confused as her. Sure, it's been awkward staying over in the guys apartment while they lived together, but she didn't think Brittany would move out. What is he talking about?
Kurt places his hand on her arm, which Santana immediately shakes off with disgust, and he tells her gently, as if a child, "Brittany and Mike are going travelling. With Tina… You know, the Cohen Concerts?"
Her mouth hangs open for second, "Are you for real? When?"
"In a week…. We wanted to be here for the wedding." An awkward silence falls over the four of them. It's broken when Puck orders two more shots of whiskey, sounding more sober than he should. She wonders has she really been drinking that much more than him. He's definitely not drunk, unlike her and Kurt.
"Puck, maybe you shouldn't –"
"Get lost, Harriet. I'll have shots if I want. Oh, anyone want the other one?" He downs the first shot, holds the second one out. As all three of them reach out to take it, Puck throws it back. He wipes his mouth crudely afterwards and shrugs, "Too bad."
"Quit being a prick," Santana says, none too nicely.
"Whatever, you're just pissed because your lesbian lover is gone and it's your fault." Before Santana can give him a verbal smackdown, he runs a hand over his face, "It was always supposed to be us, you know?"
Mike raises an eyebrow at Santana, wondering the same thing as her obviously. What the hell is this pathetic being on about now? Mike handles this much more eloquently, "What do you mean, Puck? You and Santana?"
He laughs, rather meanly, too. It's not like she hasn't been there, done that, not that great. By male standards, he's pretty good, but not worthy of laughing at the prospect of being with her. He would be lucky, she's a hot commodity. His words bring her back from pondering her talents, "Quinn. Quinn and me, Puck and Quinn – c'mon, you all know it… It was always supposed to be us."
No one quite knows what to say because, yes, for a long time, everyone assumed Qiuinn and Puck would always find their way back to each other. It was an unspoken fact that everyone seemed to generally accept, one that was now completely under question. Quinn was getting married, and it wasn't to Noah Puckerman. It's not fair to criticise Sam though – to say that Puck is better for Quinn, to say that Sam is an asshole, because that would be untrue. Sam is good for Quinn. Santana's not sure there's any passion between them, any fire in their bellies, but do people really need that?
Kurt speaks first, "Maybe it's time you told her that."
They stand in her kitchen for the longest time, simply holding each other. Quinn recognises that it's been a long day for both of them, tiring and monotonous at points, but why? Shouldn't this be the best time of her life? Maybe not. Perhaps that's the inner princess talking.
Sam strokes her hair softly, and she loves how he's a full head taller than her. There's so many things she wants to say, so many confessions and revelations. Does he have the same doubts? The same cold feet? Quinn wants to know, more than anything, that he has the same jitters. She wants him to laugh, tell her it's normal, that he feels it, too, and it's nothing to be worried about.
Instead, she settles for holding him tighter. Deep down, Quinn knows Sam doesn't feel that way. He's so sure of himself, so sure of every decision he makes. Quinn wonders has he ever done something he hasn't felt full-sure of. He certainly makes it seem like he doesn't.
Pulling back gently, Quinn smiles up at him, "I guess this is it. You know it's bad luck to stay with the bride."
"Damn tradition," Sam curses, but he's wearing a toothy grin. She wonders whether she should have butterflies when he smiles like that.
The door wrenches open, and in rushes a panting Puck. Gasping for breath, he immediately approaches her, taking her hands in his earnestly. She instantly worries, wondering what on earth he's doing here, why he's out of breath, why he's clearly interrupting her and Sam. It's the night before her wedding, she doesn't need this shit.
"Quinn, we need to talk," He says, panting heavily and gasping for air.
She grimaces, "Why are you panting?"
"I ran here—"
"From the hotel?"
"Shut up," He says succinctly, and Sam takes the initiative here to step in between them. He gently pushes Puck away from Quinn, the message clear in his actions. Stay away.
Puck rolls his eyes, "Fuck off, Sam. I just want to talk to her. Are you worried?"
With certainty, he swiftly replies, "No." Quinn sees something in him that she hasn't before though; doubt. She begins to think that maybe she is the biggest gamble Sam's ever taken.
Her eyes are drawn to Puck again, those green eyes mesmerising her in a way that they always have. She'll remember those eyes in her most difficult times. When her mother died, those green eyes met her brown, assured her that things would be okay. When Beth was born, green eyes told her that she was loved, in a way she thought a simple gaze never could. When she nearly flunked out of college, those brilliant green eyes told her that she could do it, that she was always meant for greater things.
She's not imagining blue eyes when she closes her eyes.
"Quinn, I love you." Quinn starts, what did he just say? Did—did he just? He throws his arms in the air, a self-deprecating chuckle falling from his mouth, "I've always been in love with you. It's like no matter what I say, what I do, who I do," He winks here, and she lets her repulsion known by a stern look. She's not amused by that. "It comes back to you. It will always come back to you and – and deep down, way down, you know that."
"That's enough, Puckerman," Sam commands, voice raised. He's angrier than she's ever seen him, and for one foolish moment, she's eager to see what will transpire between him and Puck. "Get out."
Puck, for the most part, ignores him, his eyes never leaving Quinn, "Quinn, it was always meant to be us. It should be us getting married, and you know it. It should've always been us."
Sam grabs him roughly by the back of his shirt, dragging him towards the door quickly, leaving Puck to stumble in his grasp. He doesn't even fight back, he doesn't cause a scene or a bloody battle, Puck only meets her gaze head on. "I'm not running away this time. I love you, Quinn—" Sam pushes him out, slams the door, and turns to Quinn.
There's more than a little rage in his tone. "What the hell was that?"
Quinn doesn't have an answer for him. What was that? She wants to tell him that she has no idea, that Puck is talking nonsense, but the real problem here is that he's not. Quinn has always known that Puck felt this way. She tried – my god, did she try – telling Noah she wouldn't stick around forever. She tried pinning him down once before, and it didn't work. What has changed?
They're older. Is there more to it than that? He's a gamble. Her heart isn't fond of taking gambles, after all, she's been down that road so many times.
She made her decision long ago – Quinn made a promise to Sam. Looking at him now, she wonders; has her heart ever bet as erratically, her chest ever felt so light, as when Noah Puckerman tells her he loves her?
A/N: Sorry for another delay in updating. If anyone is still reading this, there's only two chapters left. I'm going to update it again later today and then once more tomorrow. It shall finally be complete then!
Thank you for reading, reviews are appreciated :)
CN.
Disclaimer: Friends, Glee are not mine. Lyrics are "I Try" by Macy Gray. Really applicable to this chapter in general.