A/N: Prompt from helenjslater, who asked for Fabrevans anything. A drunken drabble, I tried. Thanks!
Quinn doesn't like it when her mind wanders to her ex-boyfriend. Sam had been sweet and handsome and loving, and she'd completely screwed him over. And for what? A lackluster romance that had culminated in getting broken up with at a funeral?
Even now, weeks later, that stings.
Sighing, Quinn's fingers curl into her cheek as she stares down at her cell phone. Sam, it blares up at her, her thumb poised over the Call button. Sam.
Sam, her ex-boyfriend.
Her other hand shifts up to press over her eyes. It's not like she expects the boy to answer if she gets up the nerve to call. Because, why would he? He'd made it clear how he felt.
But… Quinn chews on the inside of her cheek. She misses him. A lot. And if he took her back, she'd… She sighs again. She wouldn't take him for granted. Promise.
"Hello?"
Quinn starts. Without fully realizing it, her thumb had slipped. Pressed Call. Connected with Sam's phone. "Sam?" she whispers, jerking her cell up to her ear.
"Sam I am," he answers, neutrally, and her stomach hurts.
"Hi."
There's a beat of silence, but eventually, the boy sighs. "I'm surprised you're calling me."
"I know." Unbidden, Quinn's lips quirk up, "How are you?"
Sam laughs, but it's not exactly in amusement. "Well, let's see…" He sighs again, and it sounds like he shifts around, his voice sounding farther away before coming back; is… Is he on his bed? "My girlfriend cheats on me, then I get another girlfriend, only for her to cheat on me, and all throughout I'm supposed to support the guy who stole my first girlfriend from me, and even though I do, he ruins Nationals for me and everyone else? Sure. I'm good."
It's not like Quinn doesn't feel the same. Well, not the same, exactly, but not different, either. More like… More like she understands. Even with her own personal point of view and personal thoughts, she understands.
She really does.
Pressing her fingers harder into her eyes and taking a deep breath, Quinn bows her head. She knows what she needs to say to start smoothing things over. She does. It's just… She shakes her head. It's hard.
Giving in? Admitting?
Hard.
Very hard.
…
Very, very hard.
Still, Quinn allows, when has that ever stopped her before? "Have I told you I'm sorry, yet?" she asks; blurts, really.
There's silence, but as she starts to feel stupid, her ex-boyfriend speaks again. "No," he responds, the barest hint of forgiveness in his voice, "But if you buy me coffee tomorrow… I think I can start to forgive you."
"Yeah?"
It takes a while again, but, "Yeah," Sam answers. He doesn't sound as angry or bitter as he could have, and Quinn's heart thumps in her chest. It's a start, she thinks. It's definitely a start. It's…
Leaning back on her bed, staring up at her ceiling, Quinn relaxes, allowing herself a smile; it's a good start. A good start that she'll take.
And this time, she swears to herself, turning her attention fully to the phone as she listens to Sam start up again, already planning their coffee date, she won't take him for granted.
She won't.
She won't.
Promise.