Chapter Text
Quinn didn’t think she’d fall in love so quickly. Yes, she expected the weekly flings, and the meaningless sex, and even the few “serious” boyfriends. But love? It wasn’t real. The only “love” people felt was thinking someone was hot, or had a big penis, or something like that. Those who said they would die for their lover were nothing but filthy liars.
At least, that’s what Quinn thought until she met her. Rachel Barbara Berry was annoying as shit, and yes, she did look like a homely, gay dwarf- but Quinn knew she was in love the moment she looked into her eyes. They were beautiful, full of passion and determination, yet also somewhat gentle. She wanted to get closer to her. Unfortunately, so did Finn.
Every time Finn and Rachel broke up, Quinn prayed Rachel would go to her with her worries. She’d give anything to be a shoulder for the brunette to cry on- anything but offer to herself. Her reputation would be ruined. And why would Rachel ever trust her? The only deep conversation they’d had was about Quinn’s pregnancy, and even though Rachel had been so generous to her (with bad intentions, but quinn was no saint herself, so she overlooked that part), she still laughed when slushies were chucked at her. No matter the reason, it was still always Kurt and Mercedes who got to support the princess. God, they were so fucking lucky and they didn’t even know it.
The worst part was whenever they got back together again. Quinn would muster the courage to talk to her, even a simple hello, just to walk in on the two sucking face. If she didn’t back down, Rachel just accused her of trying to steal Finn back from her, and if she did she hated herself for it.
Eventually she stopped trying. She threw herself at Puck, then at Finn, but never at Rachel. She would cry whenever she took Finn from her, and for a moment she’d feel proud of herself. Then she’d remember that she was crying over losing Finn, and would storm off and act like Rachel was the idiot in the situation.
Sometimes she’d write her letters or songs. She didn’t make a habit out of it, of course, but when things got really bad (normally after Finn got back together with Rachel for the 5th time), it was either explode or write her feelings down. She chose the latter. Then, when she was done, she’d stuff them in her pillowcase, to never be read again.
Life was a hopeless, worn out drag for Quinn. She wasn’t happy, her crush hated her guts, and its only purpose was to make Rachel’s just as sucky. But that was simply how it had to be. Pretty, popular girls had to be straight. And even if they didn’t, they certainly weren’t allowed to date her boyfriend’s sloppy seconds. So she dealt with it.
One night, she invited Rachel over to her house to work on a glee project. “Just wait in my room for a bit, I’m gonna get changed into something more comfortable,” Quinn announced as she headed to the bathroom. Rachel nodded, before examining the room. She’d always wondered what McKinley’s biggest bitch kept in her private dwelling. To be honest, Rachel was surprised by how pretty it was.
The walls were a light pink, her bed white, her walls covered in stupid posters of bands. There were even a couple drawings hung up, pretty ones, too. The entire room carried a sense of regal elegance- hell, even her pillows reminded Rachel of a queen’s!
Actually, only one did. The other was weirdly bumpy, almost as if something had been hastily shoved inside. Upon closer examination, Rachel concluded that there definitely was something in there. She wanted nothing more than to raid the pillowcase… But what if Quinn caught her in the act? Was that a risk she’d be willing to take?
Despite widely held belief, Rachel was quite fond of Quinn. Yes, she’d be lying if she said she loved everything about Quinn, but goddamn, she was just so pretty. She could even be nice sometimes. It was rare, but every occasionally she’d catch her doing some random act of goodness. Rachel liked to believe that was the real Quinn, instead of the catty queen bee she liked to show herself as.
Biting down on her lip, she decided to risk Quinn’s anger and find out what secrets she kept in that stupid pillow. She checked to see if she heard any kind of movement, and when she couldn’t pick up on anything, she snatched the case and dug out its contents. “My god,” she whispered. There was just so much stuff there. In fact, there wasn’t even any pillow to begin with- it was all paper.
She chose one at random and read through it, eyes widening at the first two words alone,
Dear Rachel,
Rachel? Like, as in her? Why on earth would Quinn dedicate something like this to someone like her? At first, she simply rolled her eyes, figuring it was some stupid fake love letter she’d stuff in her locker in a week. But the more she read, the faster her heart beat, and the brighter her blush glowed.
I hate you. You’re annoying, and you sound like a fifth grader whenever you complain about not getting a solo. You look stupid. I hate your stupidly cute nose. I hate your stupid face. I hate you.
Why do you date boys like Finn? He’s a good guy, but he’s even more stupid than your beautiful eyes are. He doesn’t know what you want, or how to treat you, or how to please satisfy entertain you. You two’ll just keep breaking up and getting back together until the day one of you kicks the bucket. How many times can you legally marry the same person? Might wanna look in to that, Berry.
You have to know boys like Finn aren’t good for you. Girls like I mean, what are they good for anyways? Making babies? We can do that without them- sperm banks exist for a reason! If we didn’t have sperm banks, we wouldn’t have you Men aren’t good for anything. They’re just so cruel and hateful.
Do you hate me? I know I’m mean as hell to you. I’m sorry It’s not my fault though. You make it so easy! You hardly fight back, and when you do, it’s always in song format. You’re basically asking to be picked on for god’s sake! You’re so confident of yourself (duh), so why is it so hard to stand up to me! Slap me in the face! Chew Santana out! Do anything!
Don’t hate me. I know you do, though. You might be dumber than all your stupid adorable sweaters, but you’re smart enough to hate me. I’m sorry But you really shouldn’t I’m really trying to be nice Why can’t I get this fucking part right?
Whatever. You’ll never read this. Why say sorry when it’ll never, ever matter? You’ll grow old with Finn as your ten-time remarried husband, probably have a bunch of stupid kids, and I’ll marry some guy I don’t love. But I’ll be wishing it was you. I bet you’d make a great wife.
Do you love me?
I love you.
--- quinn fabray
Rachel was so engrossed in Quinn’s delicate handwriting that she didn’t notice her walk in. She didn’t say anything, simply observing the other’s expressions as she read. Quinn knew that Rachel would never talk to her again, so she figured she may as well enjoy the last good stare she’d get.
“I wasn’t gonna send that, just so you know.” All good things had to end. Rachel didn’t respond for a few moments, simply staring blankly at the loose-leaf paper she had in her hand. But when she did tear her eyes away, Quinn wished she hadn’t. Her eyes were still just as dazzling. Knowing this would be her last chance to look at them was enough to cause her own eyes to become dappled with tears. “I just liked writing them down. Guess I should have chosen a less obvious spot, huh? Most of the boys I have in here don’t care enough to notice. Shoulda known you were different.”
Rachel’s only response was a stare. “Say something. Anything. Call me a stupid bitch. Tell me how terrible of a person I am for bullying my crush. Run out of my room! Swear to never talk to me again! Stop… Stop looking at me, with those damn eyes!”
She doesn’t do anything of the sort. “Quinn…” Rachel didn’t dream of running, or screaming, or any of the crazy things the blonde had suggested. “Do you love me?”
Quinn never wanted to punch someone more. Of course she did- how idiotic could this brat be! It was written right there on the paper! Or was Rachel trying to make fun of her by quoting her letter? It didn’t seem like it. Her tone was soft, much gentler than any she’d heard coming from the girl. “Y-Yeah. Are you blind? I-I wrote it right there…” Now she was crying. Quinn hated crying more than anything. It was a sign of weakness, a trait Quinn Fabray simply wasn’t supposed to have. And still, here she was, sobbing her eyes out in front of Rachel fucking Berry.
“Do you… Really think my nose is pretty?”
“Stop stroking y-your own ego, Berry. Fabrays don’t lie about st-stuff like that. When you w-went to get that nose job… I-It fucking killed me. B-but I couldn’t scream, you know, ‘don’t, your stupid troll nose is really c-cute!’.”
Rachel paused. She thought for a moment, before nodding to herself. “Finn and I broke up again,” She said, standing up and facing the girl who’d made her life a living hell for years. “He asked me to marry him. I-I couldn’t say yes. I hated breaking his heart like that… But when he asked, I asked myself, ‘how long do I want to stay with this man?’, and I realized the answer wasn’t very long. There was someone else I wanted to be with. At first, I wasn't even sure if it'd work out,” Rachel flashed a small smile as she finished her sentence, “but this letter confirmed it. I love you too.”
Quinn couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Despite the endless torment, the nasty comments, and the constant teasing, Rachel actually liked her back? She was too stunned to do anything but cry harder, but not out of sadness this time. “Stop that. You can’t sing if your voice is all shaky.” She said, wrapping the girl in a tight embrace. “Take a few minutes to get yourself together, okay? You invited me over here to practice. So, we’re going to practice. Does that sound alright?” The blonde nodded into Rachel’s shoulder. “Good. I’ll pick the song while you go clean your face. Oh, can I borrow some clothes? There’s no way I’m not sleeping over tonight. I want some Fabray cuddles after we finish practicing.”
Quinn knew her parents wouldn’t let Rachel spend the night, but she didn’t really care. She’d find a way. “Bossy as always,” She sniffled, pulling away from the hug. “Make sure it’s a romantic song. No musicals, though.”
Rachel picked a show tune. And Quinn sang along anyways.