13.
Just as Kurt was obviously about to begin questioning her again after class had ended, Santana swooped in yet again to save her. The Latina grabbed her elbow and shot Kurt some semblance of a smile.
"Sorry, I need to borrow her. Glee stuff," Santana rattled off, dragging Rachel in the opposite direction.
Rachel turned to give Kurt an apologetic look, but her eyes fell to Quinn's eyes to find confusion, and . . . was that disappointment? No, why would it be? Rachel would see Quinn later at lunch. Maybe.
"You write notes the way you talk, Berry. Rambling and wordy," Santana stated once they had reached the balcony overlooking the auditorium. "So, spill it. What's really up? You're different today. I thought you'd be all happy after that little PDA with Q last night."
Rachel huffed. "First of all, Santana, PDA stands for public display of affection and Quinn and I were speaking privately in her room behind closed doors when the kiss came about. Second of all, the way I speak and write is perfectly fine. You're the one who initiated conversation in both cases, and if you don't like the way I express my thoughts then perhaps you shouldn't ask for them," Rachel said defensively in clipped tones. "Lastly, I am no different today than I was yesterday. Now, thank you for your concern, but I have to get to class." Rachel turned to leave but a hand on her wrist stopped her.
Santana caught hold of Rachel's wrist and held her in place. "Whoa. Slow your roll, Rachel. You and I have a free period, remember? We were going to practice our duet more?" Santana reminded her.
She looked at Rachel, really looked at her, for the first time that morning and it was then that she started to see it. Rachel had obviously not slept well the night before, as evident by the dark and puffy bags under her eyes that even MAC didn't sell enough make-up to hide. The petite girl's eyeliner and mascara were a little too little, as if she was trying not to attract attention to her big doe eyes that were, even Santana wasn't ashamed to admit, quite possibly her best feature. As Santana looked closer, she realized that there was a residual redness to Rachel's eyes that could only be the result of excessive crying. She knew, Rachel had not looked like this yesterday, even after her multiple freak outs and breakdowns throughout the course of the day's events.
Santana sat down in one of the seats and crossed one leg over the other and folded her arms over her chest. "But I think I actually want to know about what's going on with you, more than I want to sing," Santana said in realization, shocking even herself.
"No offense, Santana, but it's really none of your business," Rachel spat in uncharacteristic venom in her voice.
"I'm making it my business," Santana replied, completely nonplussed by Rachel's shocking hostility. "You say that nothing's wrong, that you're not any different than you are any other day, but that's a lie." Santana stepped in to invade Rachel's personal space, but Rachel didn't back away. "Listen to yourself, Berry. You're moody, you're hostile, you're snappy, impatient, defensive, huffy. It's almost like you're a normal teenage girl."
"I am a normal teenage girl, Santana," Rachel shot back.
"No, you're Rachel Berry," Santana countered in the same calm and calculating tone, "future Broadway actress, Tony and EGOT award winner, the next Barbra Streisand. You're a star. You're not normal. You've never been 'normal', Rachel, and you've always been the first one to point it out to anyone who'll listen." Santana looked at her. "So what the hell's gotten into you today?"
"I'M ANGRY, Santana!" Rachel finally yelled into the open acoustics of the theatre. The little brunette swiped angrily at her tears, "I'm angry and confused and I feel like my chest" – she clutched her chest – "is slowly being ripped open and everything inside of me is shriveling and dying! And I just– Santana, I can't . . ."
"Sing," Santana said suddenly.
"What?" Rachel demanded.
Santana sighed and pushed herself to her feet. "For once, you seem like you can't say something," Santana stated evenly, no hint of mockery in her voice, "so . . . do what you do best, Berry. Sing it."
Rachel stopped and thought about it, rifled through the jukebox that was her mind, but in the end she knew what song she needed to express. She was nervous, standing in front of Santana who was staring at her so openly, so she shook out her hands to release some of the energy before she began.
You're in my arms, and all the world is calm.
The music playing on for only two.
So close, together.
And when I'm with you
So close, to feeling alive.
A life goes by,
Romantic dreams must die.
So I bid my goodbye
And never knew.
So close, was waiting,
Waiting here with you.
And now, forever, I know
All that I wanted
to hold you so close.
So close to reaching
That famous happy end.
Almost believing
This one's not pretend.
And now you're beside me,
And look how far we've come.
So far we are. So close...
Oh how could I face the faceless days
If I should lose you now?
We're so close to reaching
that famous happy end,
And almost believing,
this one's not pretend.
Let's go on dreaming
for we know we are...
so close, so close
and still so far...
Rachel didn't realize she was crying until she opened her eyes to find that Santana's figure was blurry, and she immediately wiped them away. She felt embarrassed at having cried in front of Santana for the second time in as many days, but Santana just sat and looked at her without any accusation or malice. They were silent for a long time.
"Feel better?" Santana asked with an indecipherable lilt to her voice.
Rachel nodded and cleared her throat. "Yes. Thank you," she answered.
"Yeah, well, you were freaking me out, being all un-Berry-like," Santana replied nonchalantly.
"Are you saying you prefer me to be 'not normal', Santana?" Rachel teased gleefully.
A dark look came over Santana's eyes and she pointed a stern finger at Rachel. "I never said that," she growled, but it was entirely apparent that she was fighting a smile. "I didn't. And this" – she gestured between the two of them – "never happened."
Rachel laughed a teary chuckle and wiped more tears away. "Whatever you say, Santana," she said, causing the taller brunette to glower at her comically.
It was lunch period. Santana was MIA. Rachel was nowhere to be found. It was nowhere near enough to say that Quinn was freaking out.
She had seen Santana drag Rachel off earlier, after Calculus class, and she hadn't seen either of them since. She knew Santana usually went to the gym to practice routines or choreography during her free and Quinn could almost undoubtedly find Rachel in either the choir room or the library when she wasn't in class or with Quinn. She had checked everywhere except the auditorium and the football field, and only excluded those two places because it was unlikely to find either Rachel or Santana anywhere near bleachers now knowing who lurked underneath them and the auditorium had been locked for the first time Quinn could remember; usually Mr. Schue made sure it remained unlocked so the glee kids could come and go whenever they wanted.
Speak of the sweater vest, Quinn thought as she caught sight of Mr. Schue entering the choir room.
She poked her head inside. "Mr. Schue?"
The man looked up and smiled. "Quinn. Shouldn't you be in the cafeteria?" he asked, not unkindly.
"I was supposed to meet Rachel for lunch," Quinn explained. "I can't find her or Santana. Have you seen either of them? And do you know why the auditorium is locked?"
Mr. Schue's brow furrowed. "Rachel and Santana were in here early this morning asking if they could use the copier and auditorium for a rehearsal, I've only seen them briefly in the halls since then," he explained.
"Rehearsal . . . Rachel said she was working on a project this morning," Quinn remembered. Why would she lie about that? And why wouldn't she bring me? "Mr. Schue, have you noticed Rachel acting . . . odd lately?"
"More so than usual, you mean?" he inquired.
Quinn felt her protective strings being tugged at Mr. Schue's joke. Only she was allowed to make fun of Rachel's oddity, jokingly or (less so lately) otherwise. Mr. Schue didn't understand Rachel, so he didn't get to laugh at Rachel's expense.
Noticing Quinn's intense gaze, Mr. Schue cleared his throat. "Not, not really," he answered seriously. "Although, she has been kind of . . . off, since her break up with Finn. I know he misses her, maybe it's the same vice versa." He shrugged.
Fighting back the sensation of being punched in the stomach at the mention of Rachel missing Finn, Quinn tried to see the logic of that. Maybe Mr. Schue was right, maybe Rachel was missing Finn, and Quinn had been too wrapped up in her own feelings for Rachel to even notice Rachel's emotional struggles. Quinn hated to think that maybe Rachel kissing her back was just a rebound and that maybe her feelings really were one-sided, but the more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed.
"Thanks, Mr. Schue," she heard herself say, as if from a distance.
She seemed to float down the hallway, completely numb to everything around her. Why did she always have to be such an insensitive jerk? She had known Rachel had just gotten out of a serious relationship, and she also knew that Rachel had only ever expressed romantic interest in guys, so why would she have expected anything else. She was projecting her own feelings onto Rachel and that wasn't fair of her. Rachel was her best friend, Rachel was supposed to come first. Quinn was being selfish again, without even realizing it, and she needed to stop pushing herself onto Rachel.
If Rachel wanted to be happy with Finn, then Quinn had to accept that. Even if it hurt like hell.
"No more avoiding each other. I'm making that a rule."
"Santana, since you're not actually me or Quinn, I don't really think you can make that a rule," Rachel pointed out.
"Tough luck, I'm making it one anyway, because someone needs to," Santana stated as she walked beside Rachel on their way to find Quinn.
Rachel worried that maybe Quinn thought she'd been stood up for lunch, since she and Santana were already late as it was. Santana had texted Brittany to let her know that they were coming and to tell Quinn as well, but Rachel was unsure if that message had actually gotten to Quinn, given that Brittany's attention span really didn't last more than a few seconds. Not that it made Rachel like Brittany any less.
They arrived in the cafeteria to find Brittany sitting with Kurt and Blaine, but no sign of Quinn. Rachel slowed down.
"Uh, hey Britt, where's Q?" Santana asked cautiously.
Brittany smiled good-naturedly at them. "She went to find you and Rachel," Brittany told them. "Did you forget who was hiding and who was seeking, or are you on a new round?"
"When did she leave, Brittany?" Rachel asked.
Brittany frowned. "I don't know, Rach. I'm sorry," she said, disappointed she couldn't help her friends. "I know it was awhile ago though. Does that help?"
Rachel smiled and gave Brittany a one-armed hug. "Yes, it does. Thanks, Brittany," she told the girl. She looked at Santana, "Stay here with Brittany. I'll find Quinn."
"You sure?" Santana asked, her arms already draped over Brittany's shoulder from behind.
Rachel could help but smile. "Yeah, one of us should get to be with her girl," she conceded. "I see you in glee."
As she was leaving the cafeteria, Rachel withdrew her phone from her pocket.
Rachel: Where are you? I'm sorry I was late. Please don't be mad? 3
Rachel meandered aimlessly through the school. Without knowing where Quinn might actually be it was hard to find her. Quinn was regimented, she stuck to her schedule and her routine, it was how she maintained order and control now. It was so unlike her to go so off-script.
Her phone beeped once, signaling a text.
From Quinn
Bathroom. I'll be there in a minute.
The way Quinn answered her, with such short sentences and no humor, left Rachel feeling like maybe Quinn actually was mad at her. She had a feeling she knew which bathroom Quinn was in; their bathroom, the one they seemed to have all their 'moments' in before they became friends. She started in that direction, towards the other side of the school.
Maybe Santana was right. Maybe she and Quinn did need a rule about avoiding each other.
Rachel: Don't move.
Seconds later another alert sounded.
From Quinn
No, Rachel. I'll be right there.
Rachel ignored Quinn's text, since she was ten feet away from the washroom door and she knew arguing with Quinn was stupid anyway. She pushed open the door and stepped into the bathroom. She immediately frowned. Staring back at her in the reflection of the mirror was a teary-eyed Quinn Fabray, and suddenly Rachel understood why Quinn hadn't want her to come find her.
Quinn sighed and turned to really face Rachel. "I told you I'd be right there," she said emotionlessly.
Rachel stepped forward. "I needed to talk to you. Apparently I need you to talk to me too," she said. She took a few more hesitant steps forward, until she was finally right in front of Quinn and reached up to wiped the tears from her best friend's eyes, only seeming to cause more to leak out.
"Oh, Quinn," Rachel sighed, trying to keep anything that could be construed as pity from finding its way into her tone. She grabbed Quinn and pulled her into a hug, and Quinn stiffened for a moment before her body relaxed. Rachel held her for a moment before finally pulling away and turning to wet some paper towels from the dispenser. She gestured to Quinn's face. "May I?"
Quinn let out a shaky sigh. "Go ahead," she said softly.
Rachel gripped Quinn's chin in her hand gently as she wiped the tear stains from her friends face. Rachel allowed a small smile to blossom on her face. "I remember the first time we were in these positions," she mused aloud. She laughed. "At least you didn't slap me this time." She saw Quinn winced at the mention of the slap and her hand stopped. "Quinn, that was a joke," she said. Quinn didn't respond, so Rachel muttered, "though obviously not a very funny one."
She was quiet for awhile and Quinn remained mute as well.
"I remember I told you that you were the prettiest girl I'd ever met, but there was more to you than that," Rachel said as she tosses the damp and crumpled paper towels into the trash can. She turned her face back to Quinn, "I always knew you were in there. Who you are now is exactly who I saw hiding behind the mask back then. I always knew you were there." Rachel leaned up on her toes so she was nearly at eye-level with Quinn, and she came closer slowly. "Just tell me if I get too close for your comfort."
"Rachel, what are you doing?" Quinn asked, feeling confused and slightly afraid. She loved Rachel, but not enough to let her play with Quinn's heart.
"I think I'm going to kiss you, if that's okay," Rachel whispered, so close that Quinn could feel Rachel's words.
"No," Quinn whispered, then more loudly, "No." She side-stepped away from the brunette and looked at her, eyes swimming with tears again. "Rachel, I love you, but I can't be your rebound. I'm sorry."
Rachel took a moment to recover, let alone register Quinn's words. When she did, her brow furrowed in hurt and confusion. "Quinn, what are you talking about? A 'rebound'? Where did you even get that from? Did Finn try to get in your head again? Because, I swear, if he did–"
"If he had said it, would he have been wrong?" Quinn demanded. "What am I to you, Rachel?"
All Rachel could do for several tense seconds was stare at Quinn, before finally saying, "You have no idea what you mean to me, do you?" Quinn shuffled her feet and looked down in response. "Quinn, you . . . you mean everything to me. You're everything to me. You're the first person I think of when I wake up in the morning, and the last person on my mind when I fall asleep. I have dreams of you. When I know you're going to call, I sit and wait and look at my phone every ten seconds, and when I know you're not going to call me, all I want to do is call you. And it's so ironic to think about because . . .
"God, I used to envy you so much; you were beautiful and powerful and confident, but I also saw something in you that I didn't think the others did; a person. I had you on a pedestal, hung up in the sky, but I also saw through the pretty, popular girl to this you, the girl who could become my best friend. And then, slowly, you did and the more I got to know you - this you - the more I realized that I may have known there was more to you, but I had no idea how much. You weren't the stereotypical head cheerleader that everyone thought you were, because there's nothing typical about you. You're brilliant and gorgeous and passionate and extraordinary and worldly, and a million other things that I could spend a lifetime listing off and a million more things that I probably don't even know yet, and every time - every single time- that I find another one-in-a-million thing about you it makes me love you a little more every time."
Rachel stepped forward and took Quinn's hands in hers, kissing the back of each one. "Quinn, you're a lot of things; my strength, my weakness, my hero, my former-tormentor, my best friend, my crush . . . but you are no one's rebound. And if I thought for even a second, that that was the case? Then we wouldn't even be having this conversation right now. But these feelings that I have for you, they're older than that. They pre-date my feelings for Finn by at least a year."
Rachel closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "Blue sundress, braided hair, a white rose, sandals, and a rosary."
Quinn's face scrunched in confusion and she laughed, "What?"
"It's what you were wearing on the first day of freshman year, the first time I ever saw you, and the first time I ever felt like my whole world stopped to focus on one thing, and that thing was you, Quinn," Rachel said with so much honesty that Quinn felt her knees buckle under the weight of it. "I knew that day that you were going to mean something to me, and you do. You mean everything."