Chapter 8
Thanks for patiently waiting. Here's Chapter 8:
/
Brittany sighs, closing her eyes, disappointed with herself. The thing that sucks most when Santana's not around is that she can't do a lot of things on her own, no matter how badly she tries. Like something as simple (complicated) as remembering the freaking directions. Like right now. She wants to go to the cafeteria, but she's here again – back at the bleachers where she's been a few minutes ago. How stupid is that?
She looks around once again, trying to recall the way. She remembers the way to the classrooms now, but she knows the hallways tend to be confusing either way. If she's honest with herself, she'd starve before she finds the cafeteria. Sighing, she decides to give up and text Rachel to get her.
Wear r u' pls get me, Im in the feild. sad face
(Santana said putting sad face at the end of a pleading text makes it more effective.)
She's about to send her message when she hears something, confusing her. The sounds were barely there, but for some reason she hears them anyway.
Soft sobs, specifically.
She strains to listen better. Are they coming from behind the bleachers?
She frowns, her heart dropping considerably. She really doesn't like it when someone cries. Hurting is not a good feeling. When Brittany cries because she's hurt, her chest would feel heavy and her throat would close up. Plus, the tears leave this sticky and gross path on the cheeks.
She believes that there really shouldn't be a sad person in the world and that's why she really hates it when Santana and Rachel and the rest of the school makes someone sad. They always say they're only doing what's proper, putting people in their right place, keeping the balance, but truth be told, Brittany doesn't understand anything about it. If they really want to have balance, everyone should be equal.
She hears the soft sounds again. Making up her mind, she puts the phone back in her pocket and tries to follow the sound. It takes her a while – following sounds is hard – but eventually, she does find the source.
Her stomach drops when she spots someone lying on her side over the cemented long chair under the bleachers. They are crying softly. Her stomach drops further when she realizes its Quinn.
Sure, she was excited to see Quinn again, but definitely not this way. Remembering how easily her friend gets frightened, she takes her steps as quietly as she can, watching the blonde closely.
"Quinn?"
She sees Quinn's body tense at her voice, curling over herself more. Quinn has stopped her sobs now though, and instead is trying to suppress her cries and keep quiet as she hugs herself.
Brittany starts walking towards the other girl carefully. "Don't be scared, Quinn. It's me, Brittany. Do you remember me?"
Quinn doesn't answer her, but she continues walking anyway, hoping Quinn would trust her enough to talk to her eventually. Once she's close enough, she kneels on one knee and tries to get Quinn to look at her. Quinn wouldn't meet her eyes, though, no matter what she does.
"What are you doing here? I'm sure you're not lost like me because you're smart and all."
Silence meets her once more. The usually quiet dorky blonde is just lying there – totally silent – but her face is drawn and Brittany can't tell if she can hear her or not, making her worry worsen.
"Why won't you talk to me?"
Again, there is nothing. And it scares Brittany; Quinn is usually quiet, but this is a different kind of quiet. There's not even a nod, or even the tiniest movement of the head.
"Were the kids mean to you again?"
When there was no answer again, she sighs helplessly and asks, "Did you bring your lamb? Frankie, right? Do you want to lie with him?"
Quinn doesn't answer still but she takes it as a yes anyway, remembering how the stuffed lamb comforted Quinn when she was sick. Maybe he'll help.
"I'm going to open your bag and get him if he's there, OK?"
She gets no answer again so she just sadly walks over to the next seat, towards Quinn's bag. Just like she thought, Frankie is there.
Cautiously, she offers the cute little lamb to her blonde companion. Quinn hesitates, looking shy and undeserving, but decides to accept him anyway after a while, then hugs her tightly to her chest.
"I'm just gonna sit here with you until you're feeling better, alright?"
She gives Quinn a sad but reassuring smile, then shifts into sitting Indian style. Her stomach makes a sound after a while and it's then that she realizes she hasn't eaten yet. But she'll try to ignore her hunger. She needs her food, alright, but Quinn needs her more.
Silence engulfs them for the next few minutes. The silent environment is broken only by Quinn's quiet coughs every now and then. Her forehead isn't hot anymore, so Brittany can tell that she's not sick by now, but apparently the coughs lingered. And it makes her worry even more for her friend.
Gently, she buries her fingers into Quinn's hair, closely watching Quinn for signs of fear. Seeing that Quinn seems to relax slightly at her touch, she continues her ministrations, praying for her friend to be alright all the while.
"I-I'm so t-tired. I-I just w-want to sleep."
Brittany almost jumps at that, even if the voice is so tired and hoarse that she barely heard it. She doesn't think Quinn would be talking, so the relief did not come instantly.
Brittany then looks at Quinn, feeling both worried and relieved. Her heart breaks when she notices that Quinn's crying silently again, her tears falling graciously down her cheeks. Still, she refuses to look at Brittany.
"You can't sleep here. There's no air-conditioner," she replies, trying to lighten things up even if there's too much pressure in her chest as she watches Quinn in this really, really sad state.
Quinn closes her eyes, fresh tears immediately oozing out from them. She keeps them closed as she answer Brittany. "A-anywhere w-would do," she answers. "As l-long as I c-can s-sleep f-forever."
The taller blonde frowns worriedly, feeling her own eyes hurt. She hates the fact that Quinn is so sad – so sad that she can feel it, too. Besides, she really doesn't want Quinn to sleep forever.
"That wouldn't be good," she says. "I mean, you're my favorite person to talk with because you really don't talk that much. If that makes sense. I guess it's because Santana and Rachel talk too much. Being with you is different, a good different, and if you're asleep forever, that means I won't be able to talk to you anymore."
"B-but i-it would be g-good for everyone else."
Brittany sighs internally, hating how low Quinn seems to think of herself. She really has to believe in herself more, because there's really more to her.
Then, an idea hits her, and she thinks she might know how to cheer Quinn up a little. "I know what to do! Do you want us to find Rachel?"
She is surprised when Quinn shakes her head, curling over herself tighter, trying to hide behind her arms. Really getting anxious now, Brittany tugs at the hand over Quinn's face as gently as she can, seeking eye contact. Quinn lets her hands be manipulated by the other blonde, like she's too tired to fight anything, but she still refuses to look at her.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
Quinn just shakes her head and closes her eyes, regret written all over her face. "P-please tell R-Rachel that I'm so sorry, Brittany…W-whatever it is that I messed up with, I-I r-really hate myself for i-it. T-tell her I u-understand if she doesn't w-want me anymore."
"What are you talking about?"
Quinn lets out a sob, but she shakily tells Brittany, "I t-think I-I did something wrong a-again. B-but I'm really s-sorry now. I really am. I'm really sorry. I'm s-so sorry."
"Did she do something bad to you?"
Shaking her head regretfully again, Quinn whispers, "No. I d-did something wrong and she j-just did to me what I d-deserve."
Sighing as she feels a deep sense of disappointment in her guts, she touches Quinn's hair gently. She hates the fact that, despite being the leader, Rachel let the school rule her instead of the other way around. Like all the leaders before her. Like their teachers (except Sue). Like their principal.
She doesn't entirely blame Rachel – it's just this lame-ass school and its twisted sense of belief. That even Rachel, the one who's supposed to be the one with much power, cannot do anything about.
"Never believe the Rachel in this school. Never mind what she does. Almost all that she says here are lies, and all she does here are make-pretends. The real Rachel is the one who took care of you. She's just a coward when she's here."
"S-she wouldn't go back to h-hating me if I just did well when I stayed at their house. I th-think I ruined something."
"No, no. That's not because you ruined something, or did wrong. She never hated 's being a coward. She usually is in this school."
Quinn doesn't respond to that, so she sadly sighs one more. No words can seem to comfort Quinn now. "Can you sit up? I want to sit beside you."
"Y-you still w-want to?"
"Of course, Quinn. Now more than ever. I really don't want you sad. If you can sit up, I can hug you. Make you feel better."
Quinn shakes her head ever so gently, but Brittany can tell that she wants the hug with the way her breathing slightly evened. "I d-don't deserve it."
"Of course you do. Please Quinn? Move over? For me?"
It's then that Quinn looks at Brittany, and the latter has to hold her breath to stop herself from crying, too. Because Quinn's eyes – as beautiful as they are – are red-rimmed and bathed with pain and hopelessness and fear.
And Brittany may not know much, but at this time, her heart is aching with the knowledge that they almost looked…dead.
It's like Quinn is so close to giving up – that is, if she hasn't given up yet.
She scoots closer to her blonde friend, stroking her pale cheeks. "Please Quinn? Let me comfort you?"
More tears gently fall down the side of Quinn's face as she tries to sit up weakly. Her heart filling with sympathy, the taller blonde helps her up before sitting next to the crying girl, then pulling her towards her carefully. Quinn lets herself sag against the other blonde.
"I'm sorry about Rachel. You did nothing wrong, believe me," Brittany tells her, rubbing her back to calm her friend's painfully thumping heart. It pains her to think that Quinn has to always be heartbroken.
"You're OK, Quinn. I won't let you down. I'll do my best to be a real friend to you, OK?"
When she feels Quinn nod, she hugs her tighter. Despite everything, Quinn trusts easily. It's like she's desperate to find people to trust – and Brittany makes a mental promise to make sure that her friend has that person in her.
/
Without much convincing from her part, Brittany has dragged Quinn towards White Rabbit's cage to feed him. Quinn doesn't want the rabbit to starve – it's really not a good feeling.
Quinn has remained as quiet as she was under the bleachers, letting Brittany do all the talking. She doesn't want to put the blonde off with her stupidity. Yes, Brittany said she wants to hear her talk, but maybe it's just because Quinn hasn't messed up in front of her yet. And as much as possible, she doesn't want that to happen. Brittany is the best thing in her life right now – she can't lose her, too. All the good things in her life doesn't really last long. She doesn't think she can bear losing Brittany.
"I don't understand why people eat the same things but animals don't. Like I eat bacon and you eat bacon and San eats bacon," Brittany is saying as she adds more grass to White Rabbit's pile. "But last night I tried feeding my cat, Lord Tubbington, grass because the rabbit eats it, but he just looked at it, then at me, evilly. For someone who takes weed on a daily basis, Lord Tubbington sure is picky with his food."
It's then that Quinn looks at her taller companion. She does so uncertainly, but her face is truly awed. She doesn't want to say anything that Brittany wouldn't like, but it got her attention. And she wants to ask. "You have-you have a cat," she whispers.
She watches Brittany's face light up as she looks down to her. She looks happy and relieved. Maybe she really means it when she said she wants Quinn to talk. "Yes, Quinn," she says too eagerly. "And he's a little weird but I like him. I hope he kicks his drug habits, though. It's not good for him."
"I didn't know c-cats do drugs. It's never said in the b-books," Quinn says thoughtfully, thoroughly confused. Drugs are bad – and even people are not supposed to take it. She looks at her feet which she realizes are twisting in a nervous way. She fixes them immediately, hoping that Brittany didn't catch it and find her weird like Rachel did. "Uhm… But I uhm… I never r-really had a cat, so…"
"Oh, you'd be surprised," Brittany exclaims, eyes convincingly wide. "There's so many things people don't know about them. I should introduce you to him, so you'll know what I'm talking about."
Quinn gasps a little as she stares up at Brittany, eyes hopeful enough to cure cancer. "I can – I can meet your cat? You'll let me?"
Brittany beams at her excitedly. A little too excitedly, for that matter. Really, her smile is from ear to ear. So even if Quinn is still feeling so terrible about herself, she can't help but smile with the sweet blonde. (Plus, she can meet a cat!) "Of course, Quinn! He's a little grumpy and so much like the witches in fairy tales but I'm sure he'll like you."
Quinn bites her lip then, looking uncertain. She's not so sure about that. It's hard for anyone to like her. She's gross and stupid. She's not even sure if White Rabbit really likes her. The rabbit's not speaking, and in a cage, so Quinn can never tell. Speaking of…
"M-maybe if you bring him here, he can be…uhm…friends with White Rabbit."
Brittany looks at her, her brows furrowed adorably. "White Rabbit?"
Quinn blushes hard, and her eyes find her feet again. Her heart pounds a little faster as the heat rushes to her head. Oh no. The stupid things she say. Now Brittany will also think she's weird but painfully plain and not want to be seen with her. Just like what happened with Rachel.
"No…no… It's n-nothing. Please forget what I just said," she says shakily.
"You call him White Rabbit?"
Quinn whimpers a little as her head even lowers and she fights the tears threatening to rush out of her eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She prepares herself for what Brittany will say next.
Maybe if she apologizes this time, Brittany will give her a chance? She seems really nice.
"I like it," Brittany says, nodding once.
"I know, and I'm sor-" Quinn's head whips to Brittany once she is able to process what the taller blonde has said. "You-you like it?"
"Yes, of course. It's-uhm-it's…" Brittany's forehead crunches as she searches for the right thing to say. "I don't know. Honest? The rabbit is really white so you gave him the right name." Quinn just stares at her, a little surprised still. "Is that why you named him White Rabbit? Because he's white?"
Quinn just nods as she smiles shyly at her bracelet, biting her lip to prevent herself from saying something more.
The taller blonde hums thoughtfully. "It's a shame I haven't thought about that. Maybe I should have just named Lord Tubbington Fat Gray Kind-of-Bitchy Cat or something. It would have been more honest. And yeah, I think they'll be friends. I think White Rabbit can deal with Lord Tubbington's bitchy personality."
"White Rabbit is also my favorite fictional character," Quinn blurts out suddenly, a little too loud and surprising them both. Brittany stares at her, eyes confused, and she blushes, backtracking a little, eyes wide. "He-he's in Alice in Wonderland. It's a-it's uhmm… Uhmm... Never-nevermind."
"You know Alice in Wonderland?"
"W-what?"
"Like Alice in Wonderland the book? Do you know it?"
"Yes, I… uhmm… I kn-know it."
The way Brittany's face light up at that almost scares Quinn. It's like she's going to combust and die. "I have always wanted to know the story! Santana promised to tell me when she finishes reading it, but I think it would be nicer to hear them from you! Would you tell me if we get some time?
Wow. She wants Quinn to tell her a story?
"S-sure."
Brittany smiles at her, then offers her a swift but warm hug that Quinn likes. "You're really God's gift to me," Brittany tells her with a huge grin as she lets go. Quinn blushes to the tip of her ears, even if she knows it's not true.
"I'm really hungry now, though. I bet you haven't eaten, too. Let's eat," Brittany says, once again unaware of how fast she changed her subject.
Quinn looks down at her feet. She hangs her head, embarrassed about the fact that it's her fault why her father didn't give her something for lunch again.
"Do you want to eat some cake? I'll treat you if you go with me!"
She starts shaking her head even if her mouth starts watering and she's fighting real hard against her will. She has always wanted to eat cakes because they all look so good (and taste too, like the one in the restaurant), but she always doesn't have enough money. She can only watch them from afar. She can't believe Brittany will give it to her for free, but she knows she can't accept it. She doesn't deserve to eat. Especially foods as nice as cakes. And she doesn't want Brittany to get angry at her for eating what's not supposed to be hers. Like Rachel.
Brittany doesn't see her feeble attempts at saying no because she's already tugging at her hand, pulling her towards the school and blabbering about those yummy cakes again. "I want a cake. I want a cake for you, too. But you need to help me get to the cafeteria because I don't want to get lost again."
At that, Quinn feels her entire body go numb. She doesn't like going to the cafeteria. Everybody hates her there. Kids like to say and throw stuff at her. She doesn't want Brittany to be thrown at with stuff too because of her defects.
She pauses, freezing suddenly, causing the other girl to stop, too. Confused, the taller blonde looks back at her. "What's wrong, Quinn? Are you OK?"
"P-please don't make me c-come to the c-cafeteria," she pleads shakily, doing her best to meet Brittany's face. Not looking at somebody in the eye is freak-ish, and she doesn't want Brittany to know her true nature.
The taller girl looks at her then, a little confused at first. Her face changes to that of an understanding expression, though, surprising Quinn.
She understands?
"It's OK, Quinn. Don't' worry. I won't let them treat you there badly. I'll protect you."
Quinn doesn't answer. She's really scared. What if Brittany's really just testing her, and she'd fail again, just like how she failed with Rachel?
"Pretty please?" The taller blonde juts her lower lip out, looking so sad. And Quinn doesn't want the kind girl sad.
She's always making others sad.
"O-OK."
Brittany smiles at Quinn then lets go of her hand, making the smaller one panic at first. Why did she let go? Did Quinn make a mistake? Was she meant to refuse Brittany's offer?
But then a warm arm wraps around her shoulders and a smile that's just as warm is sent to her so she takes a deep breath and thinks maybe things are a little OK again.
/
Brittany Susan Pierce appears as carefree as she is outside, but deep inside, she's preparing herself for a huge fight. The journey to the cafeteria would just be the first of the many fights she'll have, to defend Quinn. It won't be easy, especially that she's alone in this battle now, but she knows Quinn's worth it.
Sure she can understand her friend, but to say she's mad at Rachel is an understatement. More than she's mad at Santana, even. She has trusted her as she usually is the most rational among the unholy trinity – and now she has ruined that trust.
Rachel isn't really used to that much power, Brittany's aware of that, and that the cheerleader is under so much pressure with the possibility that she's risking her social status – and perhaps her Brittany's and Santana's too – but to go as low as hurting someone like Quinn?
Whatever. If they aren't proud to be Quinn's friend, then they should suit themselves. Brittany is proud to be friends with someone who's not only very pretty, but also very smart even if everyone else in this screwed-up school is too stupid to know that yet.
This makes her want to laugh real hard. Because, where on earth did they get the guts to call Brittany stupid?
Well then, if she's stupid then they're all fricking brain-dead.
A lot of students gawk at them (stupidly) as they walk through the hallways but Brittany holds her head high as she sends Quinn "trust me" smiles. The other girl looks really pale and terrified so she rubs her forearm reassuringly.
As they enter the door, she surveys her smaller friend once more. Quinn has her eyes set downward, shaking slightly as she twists her fingers together. The taller blonde makes it a point to hold her little Quinn closer.
"You have nothing to be afraid of, Quinn. I'm here."
And she is. It doesn't matter if she gets slushied every day, too, for befriending someone who supposedly, for some insane reason, isn't meant to be anyone's friend.
Quinn doesn't appear entirely sure of that but she nods anyway.
The noise in the cafeteria immediately dies down – as if everyone has just become witnesses to a world-changing miracle – as the two of them come in. Brittany can feel Quinn hesitating again at that, conscious of the multitudes of eyes watching, so she tugs her friend closer and guides them to the food stations.
Quinn swallow a little as she shyly scans the array of yummy-looking deserts. Her right hand is placed lightly over her abdomen, almost unconsciously, and Brittany's heart drop once again. She wonders why Quinn has no money for lunch. Did she forget it? Is she as forgetful as her? Well, Brittany doesn't think so. Quinn seems too smart for that.
"What would you like to eat Quinn," she asks her kindly.
Quinn painstakingly takes her eyes off the foods, then stares at Brittany's feet. "I-it's OK, I'm not hungry."
"But you haven't eaten, I know. Don't lie to me, please. I know you're hungry."
Quinn's head hangs even lower in shame. "I'm s-sorry for l-lying, but I c-can't p-pay…"
"Don't worry about that. I told you I'd pay for the two of us. I don't want you to refuse my offer, Quinn," she tells her softly. "We both need to eat. So what do you want?"
Quinn nods slightly. "Thank you, B-Brittany. W-whatever you want is f-fine."
"OK! I know real nice-tasting foods. I'll choose for both of us, but this time only, OK? Next time I want you to choose for your own. I want you to have what you want."
The smaller blonde just nods again so Brittany smiles widely at her before skipping to where the trays are. Quinn watches with a slightly surprised expression as Brittany choose almost every kind of food in display. What can she do? They all taste good. By the time Brittany has finished buying, their tray is filled to the brim.
"Is this much OK for you," she asks, looking at Quinn. "Do you want anything else?"
Quinn shakes her head fast, eyes wide as she stares at the heavily-laden tray.
"OK, then," she answer happily. "Let's go get a seat!"
She chooses the table near the back of the cafeteria. It sucks enough that people are staring at them and whispering things about them. If it's just her, she'd raise her head and choose the table in the center, but she's with Quinn and as much as possible she wants to shield her from their judgmental eyes.
The meal was quite quiet. Quinn is naturally silent, and Brittany chose to not speak too much so Quinn could concentrate on eating, especially when Brittany notices how cute Quinn does so.
Despite how she obviously likes some of the foods, she still eats them slowly and shyly. She's just so gentle, and it's making Brittany want to smile.
From the corner of her eye she notices Shielle, another cheerleader staring insultingly at them. At Quinn, specifically. Brittany moves her head towards the girl and tries her best to give her a glare. She's not sure if she really appeared intimidating or not because it's actually Rachel or Santana who does that for the three of them, but she keeps her stare on. The cheerleader just gives her an insulting smirk before bringing her attention back to her table-mates.
The tall blonde just shakes her head in disbelief before looking at Quinn, who's still looking shy and small as she eats. She doesn't think she can last a whole afternoon watching these people look at Quinn like that. Well, if she makes this plain, she just doesn't want Quinn with all these people. Besides, Quinn's kind of in a hot pot (if that's correct) right now, being seen with her at all. Who knows what these Neanderthals are planning? She needs to take Quinn away – to a safe place – just for today at least.
Then, an idea hits her.
"Do you have exams this afternoon?"
The smaller blonde shakes her head as she stares back at Brittany. She stops biting at her sandwich for a while.
"Recitations? Or anything important like that?"
"N-no."
"Really," she asks, leaning over the table to whisper, "So what do you say about cutting classes?"
Quinn's eyes grow big at that as she looks at Brittany worriedly. "C-cutting classes?"
"Uh-huh. I don't feel like attending my classes today. They all suck. And I know you don't have to learn what they teach here. You must know everything; you're so smart."
Quinn looks down at the table. "Y-you must be mistaken. I'm st-stupid."
"That's silly Quinn. You're one of the smartest people here!"
Quinn stares back at her, red spots adorning her cheeks. Brittany doesn't let her counter that as she says, "We can go to the pond!"
"T-the pond?" Quinn whispers.
"Yes, the pond! There are ducks there!" she exclaims proudly.
Ducks are the smartest animals – Brittany's certain of that – even if her mom disagrees. She says they rhyme with suck so they can't be as awesome as Brittany makes them seem, but she's never been surer of anything in her life. And she may be a little too slow with directions, but if there's one place she can memorize the way to perfectly, it's her favorite pond.
Quinn's eyes light up for a while, before she fixes them down to the table. "B-but our parents will kn-know."
"Don't worry about that. I can arrange something with Coach Sylvester. She makes me fake attendance cards every time I want to go to the park instead of listen to boring teachers. I just had to do some crazy stunts in the Cheerios to make up for it."
"But o-our teachers will be mad."
Pfft. "No. As long as we have Coach Sylvester in the plan, no teacher will even think about getting mad at us."
"But-"
"Please, Quinnie? I really miss the duckies," she pleads, pouting helplessly for good measure.
Quinn watches her nervously as she plays with her hands. "S-sure."
Brittany, wanting to take that sort-of-guilty look from Quinn's face, makes an excited squeal, jumps from her seat and skips over next to Quinn to give her a sweet peck in the cheek and a swift hug.
"You're awesomazing!"
/
Santana Lopez isn't as dumb as she seems. She might have seemed like a huge, paranoid bitch during the whole Quinn debacle, but believe it or not, there were reasons behind her paranoia.
She doesn't want Rachel or Brittany or herself to befriend Quinn – or any other 'loser' for that matter – because she understands that if they really want to keep their reputation, they'll eventually have to end their friendship with them anyway. Get hurt. In this school, no one can befriend a loser and expect to be respected. It's like a law – unwritten yet established. It's what's been practiced in McKinley High for years, and it's up to them to keep that tradition up.
Promising ties with a loser would only end badly, and Santana recognizes that. She doesn't accept the fact entirely – and truth be told it sucks – but they'll have to live with that the way everyone else has lived with that all those years.
So yeah, this is what she was really afraid for – that it will all lead to this, eventually. The look on Rachel's face when she denied her friendship with Quinn was pure disguised pain and loss and confusion. Sure, Rachel has acted her part well, as always, but she's known her captain for years, and she sees every single feeling behind her mask.
When she did not spot Rachel in the cafeteria, she knows where she will find her. Immediately. There's only one place Rachel gets to when she's upset. And except Santana, there's no else who knows about it.
Not even Brittany.
Or her captain's idiot boyfriend.
The door to the defunct music room is locked – unusually – so she knows that Rachel's inside. She gets her handy pin inside her bag, and expertly picks at the knob. There are only two people who can open that door in a jiffy – perhaps open that door at all – and she's one of them. The other one is already inside, that's for sure.
The music room is, like, tailor-made for the two of them. It's sound-proof so their secrets can stay as such. But most importantly, there's a working piano. And if there's anything that could help Rachel when she's pressured, it's either the instrument's quiet lull, or its angry screams. Right now, it's the latter that's being played, and Santana can tell by the distracted and not-so-perfect rhythms that Rachel's terribly frustrated and angry.
That makes her wince. A piano is Rachel's baby. Santana has never heard anyone play the instrument as beautifully as her friend does. So when Rachel's playing is anything less than perfect, she knows how hard her friend is taking things.
Rachel has sensed somebody else's presence from the moment Santana locked the door behind her, but she remains unfazed from where she's playing the piano, an unmoving miserable soul. She knows who has come in anyway, and Santana remains un-minded even as she steps closer to her friend.
"You know the piano doesn't have the ability to hit you back right," she greets. Well, sort of.
Rachel ignores her. She isn't surprised about her friend's apparent annoyance, but damn does it hurt.
"It doesn't. But I do. Especially if you continue ignoring me."
"Leave me alone," Rachel says through gritted teeth, not even glancing at Santana as she continues playing, albeit softer now.
"Rache… I know you're mad, but please, you know we need to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"There's a lot to talk about."
"Funny. With the amount of time I've spent not talking to you, people would assume I missed you enough to actually endure you. Oddly enough I don't."
"I see. You're just as dramatic as ever," Santana deadpans, shaking her head faux sadly. "I think I know where we are. We're in The Rachel Berry Show, Season Stupidity, Episode Pride."
"Well maybe I just got fed up being in The Santana Lopez Show, Season Bitch, Episode Bitch. It's what the entire show is called, isn't it?"
"Believe it or not, the show's in hiatus right now," Santana replies. "Santana Lopez is out to help reformat The Rachel Berry Show."
"I can't even begin to describe how odd that sounds coming from the heroine of a show that needs to be totally cut off."
"OK," Santana says, swiftly losing the patience she reserved for this meeting. "Let's cut the shit, don't we. I'm here because I think I can talk to you know now, as equals."
When Rachel doesn't respond to her, she continues. "You ignoring me for four days was OK for me, alright? It's OK that you and Brittany got mad at me because I deserved it for doing one of the wrongest things in the world! You had the right to get angry at me! But you lost that right the moment you made the same fucking mistake! Don't you dare think you're better than me right now! If anything, you're worse!"
Rachel slams her hand on the keys real hard as she stands up, producing a sound, loud and scary, reverberating around the room with a dismal thump. "Shut up you bitch!"
"No, you shut up, you hypocrite!"
Heavy breaths coming from both young women fill the room then as the air becomes swiftly filled with tension. Not one of them moves, as they just continue to stare each other down. But for some reason, Santana feels something inside her shift as she watches her friend – her best friend – in they eye, and before she knows it, she feels herself deflating.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
The words were said at the same time, in the same tone. They watch each other as their heavy breaths even out, almost in scary synchronization. Eventually, their shoulders stoop tiredly, and they let out tired sighs.
It's Rachel who crumbles first, sitting back down on the piano stool tiredly, both hands on her head as she mutters a defeated "Fuck."
"Yeah, that, too," Santana echoed sadly, deflating on her own spot, shaking her head both for Rachel and for herself.
"What did I do, San," Rachel says suddenly, brokenly, as she looks up at Santana and the latter wishes nothing was just done. She'd seen what happened – she was there behind Melissa when Rachel had to dismiss the dork.
"What you could do at that time, I guess," she answers.
Staring down at her lap again, Rachel says, "I think I just – I felt so lost. It was too lame and stupid. I guess I just… – I couldn't think well, then," Rachel tries to explain. "Hard as it may be to admit, I – I was lost without you there as a friend to back me up."
Santana feels the guilt creep up her stomach quickly. Maybe if she just supported Rachel with the Quinn situation in the first place, things wouldn't have ended this badly.
"I'm sorry. Actually, I was feeling so lost, too. Even until now. I was so lost without you… And Brittany. So believe me when I say I kind of get it."
Rachel sighs as she watches Santana.
"It was not that hard to think about, you know? I thought I could do it here. I thought I could be brave for Quinn here. I think I could change things. But it's different when they were all staring at me like that. I felt like by admitting being friends with Quinn, I'd be disappointing the whole school. And all of the head cheerleaders before me."
"Yeah, it sucks. But don't worry, we'll have it figured out," Santana tells her with a smile.
"Thanks. I really need to talk to Quinn first though. I must apologize to her. You too. I have to make her understand why we had to do it. I don't know what she's thinking right now. I need to make everything clear to her. What if she-"
Santana cuts her off. "Opps. Rachel Blabbery's here. Calm down. I know that."
Rachel nods sadly. "I don't know if she could ever forgive me for this, though. I'd totally understand if she wouldn't."
"Well, I'm pretty sure she would. She's too much of a dork to not forgive you. I bet she's not even mad at you. She doesn't look like someone who'd get mad at anyone."
Rachel lets out a sad, self-depreciating laugh. "Yeah. That's the problem. Kind of makes me feel worse about myself."
A self-depreciating laugh is what Santana gives her, too. "Yeah? Imagine how I'm feeling right now, then."
Rachel smiles despite everything, grateful for the presence of her friend. "I'm sorry for shouting at you."
"No. It's me who should be sorry. F-for everything."
Rachel looks a little shocked at that. Well, Santana's pretty sure she is. An "I'm sorry" from Santana is equivalent to "I love you and I'll bake you a cake. I'll let you choose the flavor. Would you like chocolate? From which country?"
"So how's you and Brittany?" Rachel asks.
Santana sighs. She has tried getting Brittany to talk to her, but every time she tries the blonde always finds a way to dismiss her. "She's still mad at me. We're having the longest fight of all time, but I can't apologize to her yet. I know I'll have to apologize to that dork, first."
Which makes her remember: Had Quinn seen Santana's note? Well, she guesses she'll see.
Their conversation is cut off when Rachel's message alert tone sounds. Rachel would have wanted to ignore it, but it could be from one of her dads and she doesn't want them worrying to death over her not replying within the first two minutes.
Yeah, they're overdramatic like that.
Santana leans against the piano, and beside Rachel, as the latter fishes her phone out her bag's front pocket. The message confuses her at first, but then she sighs sadly once it registers. Santana notices and turns to her, rightfully intrigued at Rachel's reaction.
"Who's it from?"
"Brittany."
Santana's interest grows exponentially. "What did she say?"
Shaking her head self-depreciatingly, she points her phone's screen towards Santana so she could read it. "Well, the 9 is supposed to be an 8, but yeah."
Santana looks at the screen, then mouths an "Oh no."
OK. Usually, Santana's more verbose but she knows Rachel can totally understand if that's all she can say to Brittany's 'Ur mean and a lier and I rili h9 u nw. u shoudtn hv promesed me f u wouldtn kip it'
"Looks like we've really messed up big time," Rachel breathes.
"Preach."
Rachel lets out another frustrated moan. "I should have just told Jesse the truth. Now it's a lot more complicated. I just made it worse. Damn."
Rachel's face just looks so shattered that every bad comment Santana wants to tell her about Jesse stays at the tip her tongue. She'll let go of the stupid Jesse issue first. Her friend needs more help with another problem now.
She wishes she could tell Rachel to break up with that idiot, but she doesn't. This isn't the proper venue. She doesn't want to start a fight now. They have just finished having one.
"As I said, we'll figure it out."
"OK."
"So, are we cool?"
It takes a moment for Rachel to answer. "I guess so."
Santana offers her a smile, happy to have fixed at least one of the things she messed up. "It sucks though, isn't it?"
"What is?"
"That in this school, just because you're fighting for what is right doesn't mean they'll let you win."
/
Feeding the ducks is ten times more fun with Quinn there, Brittany discovers that afternoon. She knew she made the right thing when she notices how excited Quinn seemed, even while they were just in the road, walking towards where the pond is. Sure she seemed so afraid she was shaking when the guard sneakily lets them take the exit, but as they were walking and as Brittany tells her more and more about the pond and the ducks, Quinn starts relaxing slowly and her steps become more of skips.
She's too excited she didn't even seem to notice how she's going faster and faster as they neared the pond.
The taller blonde has never liked the fact that she's Brittany Pierce more than she does now. Being literally the best dancer in the squad – she'd never deny this obvious truth – she gets probably more rewards than any other person in the team. Being Sue's no. 1 choice in performing hard stunts pays off, after all. Free timeouts from school is too much of a good thing – that's a fact.
And now that she's sharing this perk with Quinn makes her appreciate it much better.
It takes only about 15 minutes for them to get to the pond. Quinn has to use her inhaler once while they were walking because she's gotten breathless from walking too fast as well as from too much excitement. Brittany smiles fondly at her but tells her to take it easy as they sit for a while to allow Quinn to breath. Her little blonde says she has never been to the pond, and she makes a mental promise to make sure Quinn enjoys it.
Quinn seeing the ducks was a marvelous thing to see. The ducks seemed to have this special pulling power over her, so much that Quinn seemed to have forgotten Brittany was with her as her eyes light up and she bounces on her spot slightly, eyes immediately drawn to where the white creatures are.
Quinn immediately walks towards where the ducks are the moment she sees them. She knelt so close to the water – so close that Brittany has to hold her in the back of her long-sleeved shirt just so she wouldn't fall into the pond.
They feed the ducks together for a while, then shifts to just watching contentedly when the ducks apparently were sated enough to ignore the foods they were throwing at them. Well, Brittany was watching Quinn more. She has been to the pond a lot of times before so she's not as excited as Quinn is to feed the ducks. The little blond was smiling and giggling at the ducks most of time. She can't blame her, though, everything the ducks do is interesting. But despite how much she loves ducks, she thinks she loves her friend more.
She's proud of herself for making Quinn seem a little bit happier. She was just so sad that morning. Sure, Quinn would get a faraway look from time to time, but the ducks seem to distract her enough that she eventually gets back to smiling at them.
Brittany has splayed the picnic cloth the Unholy Trinity keeps in a secret place in the pond. They keep it inside a box, along with some picnic tools, so they can have something to sit and eat on every time they go here. Right now, she and Quinn are sitting on it, contentedly watching the ducks. They have brought the excess food from the cafeteria this noon, and they're all splayed neatly around them. They haven't eaten anything yet, though. Quinn says she's still full from their earlier meal. Apparently, her friend's stomach isn't used to taking that much food.
After a while, she takes her iPad from her bag to play her present favorite game. Quinn takes her eyes off the ducks, too, when she notices what Brittany's doing. She keeps her dorky, shy smile as she watches Brittany curiously.
"You wanna play," Brittany asks when Quinn moves closer to her so she can have a peak at the iPad. She likes how Quinn is slowly warming up to her; it means she's doing things right.
Quinn shakes her head, looking down her lap shyly. "I m-might break it."
"Awww. You really have to be so cute, don't you? Of course you can't break this, Quinn. It's an iPad. Quality stuff."
"I d-don't know how to u-use that."
"It's easy to use! You can watch me first, and then you can use it yourself, OK?"
Her friend nods at her shyly, so Brittany urges her to come closer so she can watch better. Quinn does so shyly.
Whoever created 'Flappy Bird' was trippin', of that Brittany's sure. Of course, he could have done better by making it 'Flappy Duck' instead, but 'Flappy Bird' is really good, too.
And Brittany usually gets frustrated every time the pixelated bird dies. She hates how she can't last in the game as Rachel and Santana does.
Except now.
It's because Quinn giggles when her bird hits the second pipe and the funny sound effect sounded – and Brittany was so drawn to the sound that for the first time in her life, she forgets being upset about her premature flappy bird death. They were cute giggles – innocent and genuinely happy – and when she looks at Quinn, she can see that her cheeks are flushed from her mirth, and she's even looking Brittany in the eye as she lets out more giggles.
So Brittany watches her fondly before pushing the play button again and letting her bird hit the second pipe. She can usually do better than that (like reach the third or fourth pipe), but she deliberately kills the bird earlier just so she can hear Quinn giggle again.
And she does – just as sweetly as last time – so she plays again until Quinn gets used to watching the bird fall and has resumed to just watching silently instead of laughing every time Brittany gets her bird killed.
Brittany gets tired of playing after a few minutes so she exits the game and looks at her companion who is looking at her contentedly.
"So do you want to play now?"
Quinn shakes her head then looks down shyly.
"OK, then," she tells her. "Just tell me if you want to," she says. She is about to put the iPad back in her bag when she remembers something. "Oh! I told you last time that I'd let you see funny pictures of Santana and Rachel, right?"
Quinn nods at her.
"I hate them right now, so it'd be the perfect time to show their funny pictures to you!"
And she does. They spend the next few minutes watching the photos, laughing at particularly hilarious photos of the two. Her friends are cute sleepers, Brittany knows, but they're funny sleepers more often.
She also showed Quinn some of her own pictures. One particular photo seems to have gotten her friend's attention – it's of Brittany hugging her stuffed toy named Angel. Angel is a cute little elephant, but he's different from most elephants because he's pink in color, and he has grey spots. And dimples in the cheeks. When Quinn gasps at the photo, she takes her eyes off her iPad to address her friend instead. Instead of seeing a happy Quinn, though, she sees a shocked and pale little blonde.
"Are you OK," she asks worriedly, watching Quinn closely.
Quinn nods. "I-is the elephant y-yours?"
Brittany nods, looking at the picture somberly. "This beautiful lady gave it to me. At the mall one time. When I was little. Before the really loud bangs started," she whispers.
Brittany shudders at the memory. She doesn't remember what happened that day but she can never forget how scary the bangs and the shouts were. And how that beautiful lady helped her feel less scared.
"Why do you ask," she manages to ask the other blonde, willing the bad memories away.
"I-I was just reminded of someone," Quinn whispers. "B-but I c-can't be sure, though, s-so…uhm… Never mind."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Quinn shakes her head, although she looks a bit baffled still.
"Are you sure?"
The smaller blonde smiles at her cutely and nods, so she just nods back with a smile as well.
/
Brittany's phone rings at 3 p.m. and she scrambles to take it out of her pocket, not wanting to wake the blonde who's peacefully asleep on her lap. She frowns when she sees who the caller is, but she has to answer it or else it'll keep on ringing again and again even if she exits.
(She forgot how to put it in silent mode.)
Quinn stirs as Brittany places the phone over her ear, so she plays with her hair soothingly. Thankfully, she stayed asleep. Quinn seems so tired all the time, and right now, Brittany wants her to rest.
Quinn started yawning when they fed the ducks the second time. She refused to sleep when Brittany urged her to because she wanted to continue watching the ducks, even if she seemed too tired her eyes were already drooping. So Brittany sat just sat next to Quinn, rubbing her back soothingly while Quinn smiles at the ducks. It didn't take long for a blonde head to fall against her shoulder limply, and she immediately maneuvers her friend into a more comfortable position, shifting her head towards her lap so she could lie down.
"Brittany," Rachel's worried voice says from the other line. "Thanks for answering. I didn't see you since this morning. I was worried."
"Oh, hi there. What lies are you going to tell me today?"
"Britt, please."
"Save it, Ms. Berry. Just tell me what you want to tell me. I don't have much time. Especially for people who I don't want to spend time with in the first place."
She hears Rachel take a deep breath and clear her throat. She's nervous – obviously – and Brittany smirks at that. "Where are you? Let's talk in person, please."
"I can't. I'm in the pond."
"Alone? What are you doing there?"
She sighs as she looks down at her friend. "Controlling your damage."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm with Quinn."
A long pause meets her from the other line. She knows her friend too much, and she can almost see Rachel closing her eyes tight in frustration, probably while stopping herself from throwing anything against the wall. "H-how is she?"
"What do you think?"
"Please tell her I'm worried about her."
"Oh, you were? Really?"
"I know this would sound so stupid coming from me now, but believe me Brittany, I was."
"Is that why you treated her so badly that I saw her crying under the bleachers this noon?"
She hears Rachel whimper guiltily. Brittany doesn't have anything to say to the brunette right now, so she waits for her friend to continue.
"I know I don't have the right to, but…uhm…can I please talk to her?"
"She's asleep."
She hears the brunette take another breath before asking, "Did she say anything about me? Does she still want to talk to me?"
That question just makes Brittany remember how unfair this is all for her friend. Of course, Quinn does. She even thinks its Rachel who doesn't want to talk to her because it's her who did something wrong.
Which is a shame, if she thinks about it. Despite everything that they did, Quinn was still so willing to befriend all of them. Wholeheartedly. Without asking for anything in return, or for a payback.
It was a chance they did not even deserve to have. And yet, they let go of it. And they shouldn't have that chance again.
But Quinn needs friends – and she knows that. So even if the two of them angers her so much right now, even if they make her so mad for Quinn, she knows it'll be better if they're all in this together. The three of them can work together to make the little blonde happy; they just have to pull their heads out of their butts and be the nice softies they really are, not just in places other than the school.
She thinks she can work that out, but now, if they want Quinn's friendship, they'll have to earn it first. The free test is over. They kind of deserve to suffer after everything they did.
But she knows the nice, shy blonde wouldn't let them work hard or suffer, so Brittany would have to step in. For the meantime, at least. Quinn needs someone there to guide her, friendship-wise. No one should abuse her and her kindness again. Brittany will never let anyone take advantage of her goodness and innocence anymore.
She needs a plan. And she's usually not the brightest tool in the shed or anything, but she thinks she knows where to start. If her plan goes well, she can get the three of them closer, while making sure that Rachel and Santana grovel.
She makes an evil laugh internally. She can be so smart sometimes.
"Yes, she said you can." She lets Rachel take in a relieved breath before adding, "But there are a few conditions."
/
Rachel knows she has screwed up when she has. Even after the talk with Santana, and having Brittany confirm that Quinn doesn't completely hate her, she can't stop thinking about the hurt look on Quinn's face from earlier. It totally kills her that out of everyone, she's the one who has to bring it out of the blonde. She has spent the whole afternoon feeling terribly bad about herself. She's desperate to talk to Quinn, but she'll have to wait until the next day since Brittany said it's one of Quinn's conditions.
Even her favorite food being served right in front of her can't do anything to lift her spirits up right now. She is sadly looking down at her food when she notices something, making her look at both of her dads in a confused fashion. "Why is my lasagna cut in half?"
An average person may not notice it, but Rachel Berry is nothing but particular about her food, especially about her lasagna.
"I had accidentally sliced it," Leroy says from his seat, looking at Rachel innocently. "You know, that new knife Hiram bought is a pain in the hands," he says.
"Yeah, yeah. Blame Hiram Berry for everything – it's even his fault that Leroy's too clumsy to function," the other dad deadpans.
Rachel stares at her plate again, then at her dads. "Accidentally? Then why is this cut in perfect half?"
Leroy looks taken aback for a while, before seemingly making himself composed. "I don't know. I have naturally-perfect wrist-control? Serendipity? What's with the hundred million questions? Just eat."
Rachel's suspicion doesn't waver, especially since none of her fathers look comfortable. She tries to ignore her suspicions and just eats her food.
"They don't taste the same," she comments after having a taste of both slices.
Leroy says, "Really? It might have been the knife" at the exact same time Hiram blurts out "Really? Which side is better?"
Rachel uhhhms. "Well, it's kind of hard to choose which ooooh wait a minute," Rachel's eyes widen, then turns into slits as she gets it. "Are you trying to have your 'who's-the-better-dad-slash-cook-contest-again?
Hiram looks at Rachel guiltily. Leroy sends Hiram daggers for blurting the question that made it obvious before he catches Rachel's stern stare and he looks at her guiltily, too.
"I can't believe you tricked me! I'm your daughter! Your only daughter," she tells them dramatically. A little too dramatically. But then again, they're the Berrys, so a-little-too-dramatic is their middle name.
"I'm sorry, honey," Hiram says, looking so guilty. "We didn't want to trick you. But from a lifetime of experience on that subject, we know you'll say they taste just the same, so we had no choice but to try a different way to get the answer. You have no idea how it is to live our whole life with that much suspense, Rachel – how it is to survive daily without knowing who between the two of us is a better cook."
The doorbell sounds before Rachel can say something in response to that. She sighs unbelievably – her fathers, sometimes – before standing up to open the door. The three of them didn't have to react dramatically to the nighttime knock. They know who's outside anyway.
"Great meat coming through," Noah, who prefers to be called Puck, says, storming in even before Rachel could usher him, proceeding to the kitchen automatically.
"Wait. Did you just quote Mean Girls," Rachel asks incredulously as she follows her mohawked cousin and sits back down on her chair.
"What? The old Lindsay Lohan was hot. The Puckasaurus totally digs her," Noah answers as he grabs a plate and occupies a free seat on the table. It's a usual scenario – him knocking on their door at night to have dinner when he doesn't feel like eating what his own mother cooks or when his sister's liked them too much she's consumed them all.
"Hey, Uncles H and L. You don't mind me having a taste of your badass cooking tonight, do you," he asks after having at least two mouthfuls of lasagna. Rachel just rolls her eyes at her cousin.
"Of course, Noah," Hiram says, adding another cut of food to Noah's plate. Noah looks confused for being given a second piece. "Don't forget to tell us if the cuts taste the same or if one's better than the other, OK?"
All that makes is a more confused Noah but he nods anyway. "O-K?"
Both dads nod at him happily, internally having a high five.
The rest of the dinner is unusually, almost scarily, silent, which doesn't go unnoticed.
"I think I can hear the crickets. Is it just me, or is our dinner a little quiet tonight," Hiram says, mostly towards Leroy. But everyone in the table can hear it, of course.
"I don't hear the crickets, but it sure is not just you, hon. Something seems abnormal."
"You don't say. You think something's wrong with a certain noisy person? We can't let it go unaddressed tonight, can we?"
"No, we can't. It's rather disturbing."
"Uhm, hello? I'm here," Rachel tells them with a disbelieving look.
"Oh, forgive us for not noticing. We thought you went to sleep. It seems like you did."
"Stop being silly, you two," Rachel says albeit lovingly. Her fathers may be trying-hard comedians but they always know what to say to make Rachel feel better.
"Now that we're sure you're here, what's bothering you, hon?"
Rachel puts her spoon and fork down, then looks at both of her fathers who are looking at her openly as well. "Can I ask you something?"
"You're already asking," Hiram says, making Rachel laugh a little.
"Uhm. What if you have to choose between two things – but you can't really choose, because both choices are right, but at the same time, they're also both wrong. Do you know what I mean?"
"Yes," Puck answers through a mouthful. "If we're…Heins-what's-his-name or some other ugly genius. Geez, who would know what you mean? It was as vague as fuck."
Three sets of angry eyes cut through the air, right straight to Puck's.
"Oops. Sorry. Instinct," Puck apologizes guiltily, proceeding to look eating busily.
"It's Einstein, Noah. And please refrain from talking when your mouth is full," Rachel admonishes. "It's disgusting."
"Whatever."
Hiram watches Rachel closely. "Sweetie, as your dads, we'd love to help you out, but I believe there's a more specific aspect for that question."
"Well, yeah, there is, but, uhm, I'm ashamed to go into the specifics."
"Why? Is it about sex," Noah asks casually. "'Cause you're lucky the expert on that matter is here tonight."
"No it's not! You're really such a pig, Noah," she protests.
"OK, I'm sorry. Geez, I was kidding. You didn't have to be so guilty."
"I'm not guilty," Rachel glares at him before shaking her head and continues eating. "I just…I don't know how to explain this, but uhmmm. I think I messed up bad."
"Sweetie," Leroy says. "You know you can tell us anything, right? We'd help you with anything."
"Yeah, I know," she tells them with a small smile. "I can't right now though."
"We can talk about it after dinner, OK," he says. "If you're up to it, that is."
Rachel nods, thankful for her dads. She's not really keen on disappointing them, but maybe she'll find the courage to tell them later.
"Later."
/
AN: Belated Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!
Once again, thanks to those who followed, favorited and reviewed, as well as to those who PM-ed me. You're all awesomazing!
Sorry for the late update – a lot's going on in my plate right now. I'm thinking about shortening my chapters to maybe 4000 words so I can update more often. What do you think?