A/N: Sorry about a lack of updates! I couldn't get this chapter to feel right. This is about the fifth time I've written it, but it finally feels like it's right. Sorry about the wait though.
Enjoy!
So there she was, Rachel Berry, gazing out the window of History, attempting to recall how she'd gotten to this point. Her thoughts did not follow the line she wanted them to - they always drifted to black t-shirts and denim jackets, the growl of motorcycles, and to hints of pink in a sea of heads. Rachel woke up with a single thought, spent her day exploring every facet of that thought in her mind, went to bed still thinking about it, and dreams, when she remembered them, were of the same. It consumed her, completely, from inside out, robbing her of her other passions and interests, save one - that of Broadway, for nothing could dampen her Broadway dream. And yet, Rachel would have it no other way. In her mind, another way didn't exist.
But she hadn't spoken to her. Not for days. She frowned and let out a deepfelt sigh. It wasn't because she didn't want to - she did - so very, very desperately. Rachel didn't know where to begin. She wanted another date with Quinn; she wanted more of that flirtatious conversation, more of that half smirk that she found so incredibly sexy on the other girl, she wanted many more of those kisses, so much so that the thought of them drove her mad. But there was an obstacle; a gigantic six foot-something obstacle, to be more to the point, and he was sitting next to her, tapping his pen on his desk, no more paying attention to the lesson than Rachel was.
It should be easy, she thought, to be with the person you loved. Yet, the more she fell in love, the more difficult it became. Finn was the most obvious of the barriers separating Rachel from Quinn. He'd pursued her, even after she told him she wasn't interested - seeing the lie in her heart better than she herself - and she couldn't break his heart after that. She could be ruthless when called for, but she wasn't cruel; she didn't have it in her to be. But the boy she was sitting next to her was not the person she wanted to be with. That was Quinn Fabray, the diamond in the dust.
But Finn was not going to so easily let her go. He cared for her - even if his way of showing it was terrible. He didn't quite understand the concept of romance; watching a football match from the Hummel's couch was not the perfect date. The majority of the time, Rachel slipped out, opting to instead spend some time with Kurt. At half time, Finn would come in, a dazed look splayed across his features, asking how Rachel could have left without telling him. Kurt and Rachel would roll their eyes, and Finn would go back to watch the rest of the game. It was their weekend ritual.
Right away, Rachel had noticed the difference between her dates with Finn and her date with Quinn. Quinn was attentive, gentle, yet rough, pushing Rachel to the boundaries of her comfort, but in a good way, and was altogether was more romantic than the boy sitting next to Rachel, still tapping out a tune with is pen. Rachel didn't have the first idea of how she was going to break the news to him that she was in love with his ex girlfriend; she imagined he wouldn't take it too well.
She sighed as the bell rang, echoing across the school, putting a temporary end to innumerable students' torment. Finn and Rachel parted at the door, he giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, the first shadow of his stubble grazing her lightly. She didn't spare a glance at his retreating figure; her eyes, which started to watch him go, were caught by something else.
Leaning against the lockers as if she'd been waiting patiently for Rachel to emerge from class, Quinn stood. Rachel had the feeling that the former Cheerio hadn't gone to her own class; she seldom did these days. Rachel quickly slid her eyes away, turning her back on the girl and hurrying down the corridor. Even among the din of other students, she could hear the distinctive click of Doc Martens rapidly approaching from behind. She scurried faster, but the clicks increased speed with her.
"Rachel!" Quinn called, "Rachel, stop! Berry, I'm talking to you!"
Rachel pretended not to hear, even as other students turned to stare at the two of them. Their eyes burned holes in Rachel's clothes. She wished they would look away; but this was a spectacle they'd never seen before - Quinn Fabray, turned punk, running down the hallway after none other than Rachel Berry. No one wanted to miss the confrontation, whatever it was about this time. Whispers picked up, blazing after Rachel; she felt she was running from an entire swarm of bees, not just the pink haired girl.
She almost jumped a foot in the air when a hand grabbed hold of her upper arm. A glance at the short, black painted fingernails told her all she needed to know, and her heart sunk.
"Goddamn it, Rachel, what the hell is going on with you?" Quinn growled into her ear, leading off the corridor and away from the curious eyes, into an empty classroom. "Talk."
"About what?" Rachel said, crossing her arms in defiance. She hoped to put off the inevitable.
"The weather," Quinn growled again, voice laced with sarcasm, "what do you think?"
"I think I don't like being manhandled and dragged into a classroom, Quinn Fabray," Rachel said, holding her head high. She was not going to be belittled.
"Funny. You enjoyed being manhandled and dragged into the janitor's closet the other day," Quinn returned.
"There weren't people watching!" Rachel cried, turning red. Quinn was right; she had enjoyed that foray in the closet.
"Oh, so it's ok, as long as we do everything on your terms? Well, damnit Berry, maybe I don't like your terms! How do you think I like being ignored and avoided?"
"I wasn't. I didn't. I…I'm sorry," Rachel stammered. She was going to say that she hadn't been avoiding Quinn, but couldn't. That was too big of a lie.
"Like hell you are," Quinn muttered, dropping her defensive stance and leaning her weight against the teacher's table. She stared at the floor. Rachel felt her heart crack within her chest. All that time, she was protecting herself, not realising the effects her actions were having on the other girl. Now, she saw them before her in striking clarity. Quinn normally wore a mask, a persona bigger than herself, but right now, that mask lay discarded somewhere on the floor, revealing the girl within. And that girl was hurting.
"Quinn, I really am sorry," Rachel repeated, this time with much more sincerity.
"You know, for a second there on our date, I thought 'this one's different. She won't leave you like all the rest' but there you went, proving me wrong. Just tell me, what did I do?" Quinn said, finally meeting Rachel's eyes - they were glossy with unshed tears. Rachel's heart cracked further and a lump formed in her throat. She swallowed it away with several large gulps of air, at the same time casting about for the best explanation. Quinn saw her struggle.
"What is it? Is it the hair? Is it the attitude? The nosering? The bike? It's the damn bike, isn't it? God, I fucking knew it! I knew I shouldn't have taken you on it!" she exasperated in mutters, furious with herself. She ran a hand through her hair as she stressed, mussing it more than it already was.
"Quinn. Quinn!" Rachel yelled, grabbing the girl's hands to get her attention, "it wasn't the bike. Or the hair, or the piercing, or any of it. It's not you at all. You're perfect."
Quinn scoffed, "yeah right. Perfect. Good one, Berry."
"Will you listen!" Rachel exclaimed in her own exasperation, "you are perfect. I'm the problem here. I need to work some things out. But I want to be with you, Quinn."
"Then why have you been avoiding me? Be with me if that's what you want. What are you running from?" she asked. But as soon as the words left her mouth, a change came over her demeanour. "It's Finn, isn't it? Are you still in love with him?"
"No," Rachel answered immediately, "no, I'm not in love with him. I'm not sure I ever was. I love him, but whether I was actually in love with him, I'm not sure, but I don't think I was. But yes, he's the reason for our continued existence apart from each other."
"What's the problem then? You don't love him, so end things with him," Quinn said, as if the solution was obvious.
"I wish it were that easy," Rachel muttered.
"It is that easy! You have to tell him."
"He'll fight it."
"So what? It's your choice. He has to respect that."
"It'll break his heart," Rachel said, voice soft.
"And right now, he's breaking yours. And don't even talk to me about all the times he's hurt you in the past. His happiness shouldn't matter to you more than your own, because believe me, Rachel, yours has never mattered to him more than his own. Baby, you have to do what's right for you," Quinn urged, squeezing Rachel's hands. Rachel smiled a little at the endearment which flowed so easily from Quinn's lips and settled so comfortably on her own ears. She knew Quinn was right, but it wasn't that simple. Her conscience weighed on her shoulders, burdening her with guilt. A tear trickle down her face. Quinn wiped it away, then pulled her into a hug.
"It'll be ok. I'm here for you," she whispered. Rachel broke. She clung to the other girl for dear life. If she hadn't already known that Finn wasn't the right one for her, those words would have put her in no doubt. They were words Finn had never uttered to her, not once. And they made a huge difference. With Finn, it was all about him; from 'The Kiss That Missed', to their dates, even their conversations. And with four words, Quinn had changed that. In four words, she made it about Rachel, and for the first time, Rachel felt that she was the important one. She buried her face in the other girl's shoulder, and hugged tighter; she needed to know it was true. Quinn replied in kind, the reassurance Rachel needed.
They didn't need words, they had bodies - every sentiment revealed via subtle movements and expressions, completely understood by the other. A hug was no longer a hug, but an expression of love. A caress by dancing fingers across bare flesh became a display of affection. These movements were given and received, intricate choreography, informative, yet subtle. At that moment, neither girl needed anything more.
Rachel breathed in one last breath of Quinn's fragrance, letting it fill her nostrils and lungs. She pushed her body off the other girl's, but caught her hands in her own; she wasn't ready to lose all contact.
"You're right. Finn and I, we're not right. I've known it all along. I just didn't want to admit it. I have to tell him. I have to end it."
"And I'll be right there beside you," Quinn affirmed, nodding.
"Thank you."
"Now?"
"No. Later, after Glee," Rachel said, resolute determination in her eyes. Quinn nodded again.
The day flew by once the decision was made. Too fast, in Rachel's mind; she needed time, always more time, she needed to pick her words right. She spent classes scribbling a preparation speech instead of taking notes, crossing out, rewriting, then crossing out again. The best words eluded her. But Glee came and ended, and Rachel was left with a tattered sheet of notebook paper, full of incomplete sentences, so scribbled out on that there were holes in some places. They were like the puncture wounds on her heart, marking the guilt she was going to bear for all time.
"Finn, can we talk?" she said to the boy as everyone filed out of the choir room. Quinn settled on the piano stool which the pianist, Brad, had just vacated. She'd gotten comfortable when Rachel waved her to close the door behind the last straggler, Santana, glancing over her shoulder at the trio of them. Quinn gestured the Latina on with a wave of her hand. The door clicked shut and Quinn leant against it.
"What's going on? Why is Quinn here?" Finn asked, a frown marking his features.
"I think you should sit down," Rachel said, "we need to talk."
"Uh, ok. But I still don't get why Quinn's here."
"She's moral support," Rachel explained quickly, sparing a glance for the girl. Her stomach was a bunch of knots, all of a sudden.
"Rachel, what's going on?" Finn asked again, looking from one girl to the other. He didn't like Quinn's presence. Since when were Quinn and Rachel friends, anyway?
"Finn," Rachel said, then stopped. In her hands she clutched the paper with the half prepared speech on it. It felt utterly useless now. She could barely believe that she thought she could prepare for this by writing a speech. What came over her sometimes. She cleared her throat, getting a nod of encouragement from Quinn.
"Finn, this may come somewhat as a surprise to you, but I feel that you and I, well…you and I, we're just not working out. I think we should leave it while we've still not hurt each other yet," she gushed, hoping the rushed words registered in the boy's mind. He blinked a few times as it sunk in.
"No, Rachel, you can't do this. What about me? Don't I get a say in this? You can't break up with me so suddenly and think I'll have nothing to say about it."
"I'm sorry Finn, but I have to do what's right for me," Rachel said firmly. She was more sure now that the crux of the issue was out in the open. Quinn said nothing.
"No, I won't let you do this! I took you on this amazing date in New York, I kissed you in front of a thousand people to prove I loved you. And you promised me that we could have this year. You promised! You're just gonna break your word like that?" he fumed.
"You took me on a date I tried to avoid, then ran out on you on. And then you kissed me anyway. And we lost, Finn. We lost! I'm not sure it was worth it, in retrospect."
"What? Are you even listening to yourself? The kiss wasn't worth it? Rachel, don't you get it? I would lose a million competitions to kiss you like that again. It was amazing; the Superman of ki-"
"Finn, stop! It's not just the competition, or the kiss. It's everything. People expect us to fight in the hallway. The other day people stopped and stared because they thought I was waiting to have another fight with you. How can you think that that's right. It's not. This relationship isn't healthy. I'm sorry, Finn, but I can't do it anymore. It's not right. For either of us. You deserve someone you're not going to fight with all the time, who understands football and all that other stuff. And I deserve better too."
"What the hell's wrong with you Rachel?" Finn yelled, getting up and towering over her, "this isn't only about you! And I say you can't do this. I say we aren't breaking up. I can wait till this stupid idea gets out of your head."
"Hey! Don't talk to her like that!" Quinn barked, stepping forward, "you can't even see. This is the exact thing she's talking about. You don't respect her. She deserves someone better than you."
'No one asked you, Fabray. Keep your punk nose the hell out of my business. This is between my girlfriend and me."
"This is between your ex girlfriend and you," Quinn corrected, "and now, me too. You don't get to treat her like that anymore, Hudson."
"Yeah? I don't remember you treating her any better," Finn challenged, taking a step in her direction. Her eyes flashed with regret for a flicker of a second.
"I'm not that girl anymore. But you, you'll always be this boy, trapped in man's body. At least I can grow up, Finn."
"Hey, stop. Finn, that's enough. You too, Quinn," Rachel said, stepping between the two of them. The glowered at each other over her head, but stopped yelling.
"Finn, I'm sorry, but it's over between us. Quinn, go. There's nothing left to say."
Quinn glared one more second before turning on her heel and marching out. Rachel caught the door before it closed, about to follow.
"Rachel, please," Finn pleaded. She stopped in her tracks. She closed her eyes, scrunching them tight, wishing she hadn't heard that. It hurt enough already; this was too much guilt.
"Finn. I can't do this anymore, I'm sorry."
"Rachel, I need you. What am I gonna do without you? I know I'm not the best boyfriend, but I'll try harder. I'll do whatever it takes," he said, desperate.
"We tried. We've tried so many times. Nothing changes, Finn. You're always you and I'm always me. We can't change. We just have to accept that we aren't right for each other. So we have to let it go. It's too destructive."
"That's it? Not eve another chance?"
"I'm sorry," Rachel said, shaking her head, then walked out. There was nothing more to be gained from the conversation. Quinn waited down the hall. She opened her mouth when Rachel approached.
"Not now, Quinn," Rachel said, cutting her off. Quinn closed her mouth, silently shadowing the brunette's footsteps. She walked briskly, as if to keep a meeting for which she was running late. Or as if she was running from something. Quinn kept pace; she had no other choice.
The school was empty, eerily so. Light still streamed in through the windows, but it wasn't disturbed by hundreds of students. The dust particles caught in the rays drifted whimsically, at their own lazy pace, slowly settling. Until Rachel breezed right through them, Quinn in tow. She led them to the auditorium, through the backstage, then onto the actual stage. The only light came from the open stage door, but even in the dark, Rachel knew where she was going.
"Rachel, what are you doing?" Quinn began to say, but the sentence was stolen from her mouth by a pair of lips, pressing forcefully onto hers. She responded, but relinquished control to the other girl, who pushed her against the piano, so that it stuck into Quinn's lower back. The hands on her hips still wouldn't stop pushing. Quinn let them.
"Rachel," she whispered when they broke apart, "Rachel."
"I needed to make sure. I needed to know I was doing the right thing," Rachel returned, voice soft.
"You are, baby," Quinn assured, voice just as soft, drawing the other girl to her. Rachel leaned her head onto Quinn's shoulder, her arms wrapped around the pink haired girl.
"I know."