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Rachel sighed and leaned her back against the lockers of the Cheerios' dressing room. "And that's why I need you to be my fake girlfriend," she said, locking eyes with the cheerleader with a serious expression. 

Quinn's eyes widened, and an unbelieving smile was drawn on her face. "Wow, just when I thought you couldn't get any more pathetic. You never fail to surprise me, Berry."

She had just heard a whole lecture about how she should help her take revenge on Finn for losing his virginity with Santana. About how humiliating it felt when she found out, and how they should come together because of the unfairness they both have gone through on account of an unworthy boyfriend. Even though she stopped hearing Rachel during the first thirty seconds, maybe, just maybe, it wasn't that awful of an idea.

Seeing his two exes together, succumbed to homosexuality, and ignoring his existence would be a huge humbling experience, especially for a quarterback who's currently on top of the school... thanks to her!—and that then dumped her for the dwarf who was now asking her out. 

Well, he did deserve it. But, Rachel Berry?

"Just think about it, Quinn. Maybe your time to get back at the world for all the tribulations it made you suffer has come."

Sadly, she had to acknowledge that Rachel was right. She was begging for her comeback, begging for the universe to give her her moment back—Damn, she hated to admit how good Rachel was with words and using people's emotions—Life had been a bitch to her, and she couldn't allow a bitch bigger than her to exist anymore.

Quinn crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "What about me and Sam?"

Rachel smiled and winked at her—ew. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

That poor guy. Sam was the sweetest, probably her best boyfriend yet, but talking to him was like trying to reason with a stupid dog. The dog loves you, wags his tail when he sees you, but doesn't understand a word you're saying—and it also has shiny blonde hair.

Even Finn was smarter than him, and that's giving him too much credit.

Quinn sighed and extended her open hand to the brunette. "Okay. Just for a week, I can't risk my reputation more... and I won't kiss you."

Rachel returned the handshake. "A week is enough," she said with that grin she used when things got her way that Quinn absolutely hated. "It's also a two-for-one, since I tried hooking up with Puckerman too and-"

"Oh my god, just shut up. You just gave me the grossest mental image ever."

Even though her patience was thin when it came to the tiny diva, talking to her was almost refreshing when she always felt surrounded by mentally unqualified people—except for Santana, but she was all catty with her almost half of the time they spent together.

Rachel had that strategic form of thinking that really worked with her. She couldn't deny that the girl was very smart; maybe if she weren't such an annoying loser with a vocabulary taken straight out of a seventeenth-century nun, they could at least get along.

•••

When Rachel and Quinn crossed the choir room door together, something was smelling weird for some people in there. Kurt immediately directed his sight to Finn and Sam, who were sitting together with cheerless expressions. They usually got into the room with their respective girlfriend on their arm, talking, smiling, or even mad at each other, but at least, together. 

Finn was saying something about how "Us bros should stick together," while Sam did a sad impression of some weird kicked animal, trying to get Quinn's attention. The blonde was sitting in front of him, her ponytail swinging from one side to another every time she moved, like a treat he could never have again.

To Rachel, small details were the key. Sitting next to Quinn, putting her hand on her shoulder when they talked—not throwing passive-aggressive comments at each other. Quinn wasn't far behind. Smiling without any reason at Rachel, batting her thick eyelashes only for her, and being more patient when she opened her mouth. 

The rest of Glee Club went peacefully—Wow, maybe they were the problem in there—No one yelled, no one stormed out the door, and no one threw punches at the air.

When the class ended, Mr. Schue had an ear-to-ear smile. The fake girlfriends were crossing the door together when he stopped them, slowly clapping.

"Cheers to you, girls. It's very touching seeing you act as friends." He paused, crossing his arms and throwing one of his proud-parental looks at them. "Maybe we'll become a family thanks to you." Mr. Schue happily went out the door, leaving them with nothing but each other's company.

Rachel walked towards the chairs and sat down in the front row. "No! We're not friends, we're not family!"

Quinn laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Right? He's so corny—"

"We're girlfriends!" Rachel looked at Quinn's grossed-out face and took a step back. "Fake. Fake girlfriends."

The cheerleader grabbed her backpack, avoiding looking at the brunette's face. "I'm out of this," she said, and then started walking towards the door.

"What? N-No, Quinn, you can't."

"Your plan didn't work, just admit it."

"But it's just the first day!" Rachel's tone rose, making her regret as soon as she saw the cheerleader end her walking.

Quinn turned around, mentally prepared to give her the most horrible speech about being selfish and having to finally grow up to be a normal human being. But she only found a pair of ridiculously sad eyes, worn by the smaller girl who was sitting with her head down.

The blonde let out a big sigh, her hand curling into a fist. "Okay."

She raised her head to look at her. "Really?" she said, with her face lightened up once again.

"I'm doing this for me, not you." Rachel frantically nodded, trying to conceal her smile. "But we need to do more if you want this to work."

•••

Having to fake happiness when she saw Rachel at school was one of the hardest things she had ever done.

Walking next to her through the hallways, trying her best to ignore Santana's stunned face and Brittany's happy little claps every single time they crossed paths—Which happened a lot now, since the Latina got obsessed with uncovering Quinn's and Rachel's sudden "friendship." 

They were always leaning on the lockers, analyzing every movement the ex-enemies did as they walked side by side.

"Aw. They're BFF, San, like us!" Brittany said, putting her hand on the right side of her chest.

"Your heart is on the other side, Britt," Santana said, leaning against the lockers while looking at McKinley's newest couple. 

"I have two hearts for loving everyone properly."

The Latina looked at her friend, almost letting her head rest on Brittany's shoulder. "They can't compare to us."

"Of course not, they clearly don't have sex." Brittany said, pointing at the girls "Rachel still flinches when Quinn raises her hand."

It was true. Quinn softly brushed her hand against Rachel's, looking for her pinkie as they walked to the cafeteria. The brunette gave her a confused look, mixed with a slight jump when she felt their skin touching. The cheerleader raised her frown, expectant. Rachel corresponded when she realized what the blonde was doing, finally making their fingers lock. 

Santana's face turned disgusted as soon as she saw the action "She's such an unoriginal harpy! What are they even doing?" she said, crossing her arms, not minding if they could hear her. 

"They're trying to simulate a relationship through the only ways of affection between two women that they know," Brittany said on an almost robotic tone and started walking behind the pair of girls. 

Santana looked at her friend with a surprised expression "...Yes! People would do anything to stay relevant." She snorted and made her pinkie lock with Brittany's, unable to hide her smile when the girl corresponded the contact. 

Quinn and Rachel entered a classroom together—without knowing they were escaping the other two girls—they had always been in the same literature class. They ignored each other in there. Yet, Quinn usually dedicated to drawing inappropriate representations of Rachel on the tables while the brunette was devoted to the creation of essays about the lame "school queen" archetype. But things couldn't be that way anymore. 

Rachel sat down on the last row, knowing that if she sat down on her usual spot—right in front of the teacher's desk—Quinn wouldn't follow her and they would lose all of the attention that their alliance was gaining. 

The class started. Things were awfully uncomfortable between the "couple" until the brunette complimented Quinn's pink-glittery gel pen, which let a tiny smile into the cheerleader's face.

After a few minutes of talking, the normal conversation turned into both of them giggling and Rachel twirling her hair while Quinn whispered to her jokes about their teacher and classmates. 

The teacher looked at them, expecting the girls to realize that their happy little parley was being observed. But they didn't. 

She intentionally cleared her throat to gain their attention. "Would you like to wait outside during the class, Miss Berry?" the teacher said with an exasperated tone that Rachel had never experienced towards her. 

The brunette froze in her chair as soon as she realized that she was the one being called out.  Her eyes widened with a pout that made her look like she was right about bursting into tears. 

She swallowed and tried to calm herself down before speaking. "I'm sorry, Miss Castle."

Quinn would've normally made fun of how much of a baby she was. But looking at her sad expression up close was completely different from laughing at her from afar. Her eyebrows were curved in such a heartbreaking way that she felt the urge to hug the smaller girl, but she was too much of a coward to do so. Damn, Rachel had feelings. 

At the end of the day, she was a teenage girl too. But unlike Quinn, the diva wasn't used to getting "scolded"—if you can call that a scolding—she was the gold star girl that every teacher loved for her insatiable need for validation and overachieving. It was a low blow for her.

"Hey, Berry," Quinn whispered, looking at the blackboard to not get caught again. "It's okay," she said in the most gentle tone she could use.

Rachel looked at the blonde with a weak smile, forgetting about the teacher for a second. "Thank you, Quinn," she whispered back and then returned to her notebook. 

Things really changed since that literature class. Quinn was actually nice, and Rachel didn't spend the whole day being defensive towards her. Their fellow glee-clubbers had noticed—their confused looks now followed them around the school. There was always someone around. 

That afternoon, Mr. Schue entered the music room with the kind of smile he has when he thinks he's a brilliant teacher and he's about to spit one of his corny ideas. 

After writing the word 'honesty' on the whiteboard, he turned to the club. "Like every week, I want you guys to sing. But this time, it has to be about something you need to tell someone else in this room. If we want to be prepared for Regionals, we have to..."

Rachel distracted when Will started the pep talk. It was a great—actually, a perfect opportunity. It took just one song at Glee club to make the rumors fly. A cute song, a few flirty looks, and it was all done. Quinn Fabray and her would be publicly girlfriends. 

She had orbited around Quinn since that day. What started out as an idea to get Finn jealous was now her latest reason to get up in the morning and go to school, and she had to keep adding fuel to their fake relationship's fire. Also, hanging out with her meant not getting slushied anymore and having someone who would talk and joke with her—not about her, at least not anymore. 

Fabray fever grew on her as soon as they started talking. Being around Quinn felt safe. Even when the other Cheerios' judgmental looks tried to penetrate them, they were quickly ended with one frown from their leader. She wasn't just pregnant Barbie bully edition, she was smart, strategic—had an amazing pair of biceps—and actually felt things a lot.

It was the ridiculous little things that made Quinn more human, and Rachel noticed them all. 

How she always drew tiny flowers on the corners of her notes in class, the way she absentmindedly frowned when she was focused, or how her perfume changed during the week—yeah, maybe she was a little bit too much invested. But her involuntary study of Quinn had immersed her in a completely different version of her school life—one that the freshman Rachel Berry would've never believed. 

Finn faded in the background—literally and figuratively. Every time they met in the hallway his eyes followed the brunette—as soon as Quinn appeared in her daily routine. His sad looks and attempts to gain her attention didn't matter anymore, because now she had this beautiful girl making her laugh half of the time they spent together—which was a lot. 

"He's always looking at you," Quinn said with a contemptuous tone, crossing the door to the empty choir room.

Rachel tilted her head with a little frown, pausing her walk to look at Quinn "Who?" 

The blonde's face spoke for itself. She didn't want to say the name. "Come on, you know who," Rachel shook her head and Quinn rolled her eyes "Finn!" 

Rachel giggled at the blonde's expression and took a seat in the front row. "Well, should I care?" she teased Quinn. 

Quinn sat down and crossed her legs. "No, you shouldn't. But if you—"

"I don't mind him, Quinn." Her pronunciation was determined, but her voice had the perfect amount of sweetness to feel like a statement specially made for the cheerleader.

Quinn's expression automatically softened when she heard the girl's response. She turned her head to look at the brunette, thinking that it was a joke. But she only found a sincere look on her face. 

Her eyes were fixed on the girl's face. She could've memorized all of Rachel's features in that single moment. Her round, shiny brown eyes that were never afraid of boldly looking at her, the mole on her left cheek right under the natural blush of her cheekbones, the beautifully shaped lips, and her soberly made-up eyelashes.

She was so deeply mesmerized by the girl that when she parted her eyes from her, the choir room was already filled with people. Sam and Finn were unusually quiet—looking like they just walked out of a funeral, actually. 

"I would be happy if I were you guys. Lesbianism is so hot," Puck said with a grin, looking at the girls from the row behind them.

"Rachel isn't a lesbian!" Finn raised his voice as if his ex-girlfriend wasn't right in front of him. 

The room went into silence for a few seconds after the boy's voice resounded throughout the whole place. Some gasped while others frenetically looked at each other, except for Santana, who wasn't putting any effort into hiding her smile. 

"Of course she isn't a lesbian, nipples. Your little Polly Pocket man-girlfriend is looking for attention," she broke the silence. 

Quinn was already turning her head towards the Latina with her hands fisted. Her cheeks were slightly red with anger—she didn't know why, Santana wasn't lying; none of them were lesbians—right? And Rachel was looking for attention. But that didn't matter to her right now. She would've loved to show Finn how to properly defend a girl by slapping that smile out of Santana's face. 

Before she could act she felt Rachel's hand wrapping around her wrist. When she saw Rachel and her typical disapproving face—same one she used to give Finn—she felt like some sort of wild animal in comparison to the primly dressed, headband-wearing girl that was sitting next to her. 

Quinn sat up straight with no need for the brunette to say anything. She crossed her arms, trying to hide her frown like a scolded child, ruminating on her anger towards everyone in the back row. 

Mr. Schue walked into the class with his usual smile. "Sorry for the delay, guys, I was– what's wrong?" he asked as soon as he saw the kid's faces, but no one answered. 

He quickly forgot the event and recalled yesterday's lesson. Rachel automatically raised her hand when Mr. Schue asked for someone to sing—Damn, now Quinn thought those things were cute—and slowly walked to the center of the room.

She bit her lip nervously before the opening chords of You Belong With Me started to play, making a couple of heads turn. Brittany was about to start clapping, but was quickly stopped by Santana, who rolled her eyes as soon as the song started.

Rachel took a deep breath before singing, her heart pounding as fast as if it were a real love declaration. "You're on the phone with your girlfriend she's upset..."

Her voice delivered the first lines with an uncertain tone, but as the song built up her confidence did too. She sang looking at everyone's face in the room except for Quinn's. Until she was brave enough to direct her gaze to Quinn.

Rachel gathered the courage to look at the blonde "She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers..." she said with a tiny smile that made Quinn giggle from her seat.

Since the moment her eyes met the blonde's she couldn't take the happy look out of her face. But something started to ache—she wouldn't sing cute little love songs to Quinn forever. 

She wasn't her girlfriend, they weren't even friends, everything was a performance for a boy whom she had already admitted that she didn't care about anymore. 

"And you've got a smile that could light up this whole town..." She felt the urge to take Quinn by the hand and make her sing and dance with her—and it was unusual for her to dream about sharing a stage with someone else—couples on Glee did that all the time, but she had to resist it, it would've been too much of a scandal. 

The purpose of the plan was accomplished—Right behind Quinn's seat, there was Finn, looking like he had just been kicked in the stomach—The Rachel who made the plan on Monday would be dying of happiness, but she needed something more than him now. "Have you ever thought just maybe..."

She was used to singing for crowds, always looking for the whole world's ovation. But in that moment, she felt like the only approbation that truly mattered was Quinn's. She could spend her whole life singing for the blonde, just to earn that beautiful disarming look that never failed to make her feel weak. "...You belong with me?"

Her eyes gave the head cheerleader a helpless look as the "You belong with me," she pronounced on a lower tone—they weren't just lyrics, it was a whole realization. 

Everyone's astonished looks were on her—Santana looked like she had just been called a slur. A short silence was followed by confused clapping. After all the scenarios and slushies she had gone through, she couldn't care less about a group of people disapprovingly gazing at her. 

Having to look at Quinn's delighted face, shinier than ever, was a lot more frightening. The blonde had forgotten how to clap after the performance. Her deep, green eyes were pinned on Rachel, complemented by a soft, knowing smile drawn on her lips.

Not even Mr. Schue said a word. Her only verbal supporter was Puck—if you could call it that way—who screamed, "Hell yeah, I told you she was a. lesbian!" from the back of the room.

Rachel cleared her throat and went to sit down next to Quinn. "Good as always, Berry," the blonde said in a warm tone. It had a touch of sincerity that she had never really heard from Quinn before, but somehow, she knew it was true—her smile spoke for her. 

Rachel didn't respond. She let her head rest on the blonde's shoulder with a tiny pout drawn on her mouth. Quinn didn't move. It was just for them, none of them was acting. It didn't matter if someone watched them or not. 

•••

Every time Quinn had to face a class without Rachel, she had to fight to concentrate. Things without her were simply boring—wow, she would never have imagined herself saying something like that—It was hard to focus when the only thing she wanted was for the class to end so she could go look for Rachel. 

Her eyes were pinned on the clock on the wall. She was very anxious—not only because of the idea of seeing Rachel again, but because she had the brilliant plan of inviting the brunette to the Cheerios' practice. She felt ridiculous, that's such a 'boyfriend-girlfriend' thing... Or what if she did something wrong and humiliated herself in front of Rachel? It's hard to think about such things when it has always been the opposite way. 

She rushed through the hallway to the girls' class as soon as the school bell rang. Her heart pounded in anticipation while she avoided colliding with teens as she ran. 

She stood next to the door, waiting for Rachel to appear. She ignored every person coming out of the classroom until she saw the brunette. Her smile was so obviously big that she had to make an effort to hide it, but the excitement was much bigger than her capacity to control her feelings around Rachel. 

She made her feel dumb. But not in an academic, book-smart way. It was like being near Rachel made her forget every single thing she had learned about how not to be socially awkward since she was fourteen. Every time the brunette moved it was like she was being ordered to fall on her knees, and when she wasn't there, life was deeply boring. 

"How was chemistry?" Quinn said with a nervous smile. 

Rachel started walking and Quinn followed "I have a test tomorrow," she said with a somber expression "I feel like I'm very distracted this week, you know?" 

Quinn felt her heart racing its rhythm "Oh, yeah, me too.." She took a deep breath and opened her mouth for a few seconds before speaking

"Rachel... do you have plans after school?" 

A little smile appeared on her lips, cleaning the pout that was in there before "Like, right now?" Quinn nodded. "Well, I have to study but–"

"Oh! I see, I see..." The blonde avoided Rachel's gaze by looking at the floor as she walked.

The brunette tilted her head, trying to regain Quinn's attention. "Do you have something to tell me?" 

Quinn cleared her throat, nervously throwing glances at the smaller girl "No! Well... yes." She took a deep breath and locked eyes with her "Would you like to stay for the Cheerio practice? I mean, not as a Cheerio, you know, like..." 

Rachel grabbed the cheerleader's wrist to stop her from talking more "I would love to, Quinn." 

Quinn wandered in her thoughts while they walked to the football field. She couldn't help but think about how huge it was asking someone to stay for your cheerleading practice—to her, it was like proposing. 

She had never gone through this before since her boyfriends always had to train for their own things—also, she wouldn't really have asked them—but with Rachel, things were different. She knew almost everything about the brunette ever since they started talking, because she never shut her pretty mouth, but what did Rachel know about her? 

When they arrived, Quinn walked to the group of girls in the center of the field while Rachel quickly went to sit down on the bleachers. Her eyes narrowed at the sunbeams coming from above, not taking her eyes out of the head cheerleader—recognizing Quinn in the middle of that batch of blonde and white perfect girls required a lot of effort. 

In her defense, it was impossible not to look at her. Freshmen girls shrank every time she walked near them, and she had the license to boss everyone around and step into their backs when she was on top of the human pyramid without being portrayed as a complete asshole.

The common laws of society didn't apply to Quinn Fabray, and usually that made Rachel really mad, but now she could only think about how cute the girl looked tormenting others—and be glad that she wasn't a part of the tormented ones anymore. 

Clearly, the rest of the Cheerios didn't think so—it was one hell of a practice to them. Quinn tried harder than ever. If something wasn't perfect, that meant fifty push-ups for the whole team. Coach Sylvester had to make sure that they all finished at the same time—or else they had to do fifty more. 

Yet, Quinn seemed constantly distracted by the view of Rachel on the bleachers. Her frown turned into a little smile whenever they made eye contact, and she waved at her every single time. Then, when she returned to practice, she unnecessarily stretched a random part of her body while making obscene gestures and slightly turning her head to confirm if the brunette was paying attention to her mating dance. 

She craved Rachel's approval. She looked so pretty and delicate sitting in there, and somehow, still strong and determined. It wasn't about competing against each other's definition of perfection anymore, it was about impressing Rachel. She couldn't present any spectacle to her, it had to fulfill—no, surpass her expectations. 

Santana was grossed out. Probably everyone in there was. "Can you stop trying to make Berry's panties wet for one second and get in here?" the Latina screamed from the base of the pyramid—the place she was recently relegated to. 

Quinn rolled her eyes and got on top of the pyramid with the help of two other girls. She instantly changed her expression to her bright smile as soon as she was facing Rachel again, on top of everything and everyone. 

Rachel stayed until the end of practice. The sky was adorned by an orange hue, and the group of girls in the middle of the field was already parting in different ways. Quinn walked towards Rachel with her bag hanging from her shoulder.

She sighed and sat down next to her. "Well, what did you think?" 

Rachel giggled, not noticing Quinn's serious tone. "Miss Fabray is asking me my humble opinion on a cheerleading routine?"  

 The blonde relaxed when she heard her laugh "Well, you're my fake girlfriend after all" They both chuckled "I care about what you think..."

"You never disappoint." 

Quinn looked at her feet, fidgeting with her fingers. "Sometimes I wonder if Santana was better than I at directing the girls," she directed her eyes to the brunette, clenching her lips a bit "you know, while I was pregnant." 

Rachel rested her head on Quinn's shoulder "You are the best leader for them, Q," she muttered "I... I really respect you. You're not afraid of being harsh with them." 

That was all she ever wanted to hear since she had failed to be the perfect all-American girl. Not coach Sylvester, not her family, not even her boyfriends had ever said that to her, but Rachel Berry just did. 

Quinn looked at Rachel with shiny eyes, not sure if the brunette noticed. Without thinking of it too much, she laid a kiss on Rachel's cheek with a soft smile. "Thank you." 

Rachel's eyes instantly widened. Quinn stood up with a mischievous, satisfied smile, and started walking down the bleachers' stairs. There were a few steps left when she paused, and turned around with a playful look in her eyes "You're good for Glee club, even if they don't want to admit it." 

Rachel tried to stutter a goodbye, but nothing came out. After a blink, the girl was already gone. Her body had tensed at the soft pressure and her cheeks got red despite her effort to keep her cool. 

No wonder every boy that Quinn ever had the chance to love still drooled over her. The pressure was so gentle, so sweet, that just a few seconds were enough to feel starved for a real kiss from the cheerleader for the rest of her life. 

How the hell was she going to study for her test now? 

•••

On Friday, Rachel and Quinn sat in front of each other at the cafeteria—in high school, that's the ultimate social statement—and it didn't go unnoticed. Finn and Sam—and Puck, for an unknown reason—were at the other table, constantly flexing their arms and coughing to gain the girl's attention. 

Santana was tired of the view. In one table she had Mrs. and Mrs. queer-baiters and in the other one, there was a whole bunch of animals trying to look interesting. 

Quinn looked like she had a magnet for Rachel's hand, constantly playing with her fingers and intertwining them with hers while they talked. 

Rachel's whole face was pale as if she had just seen a ghost—except for her cheeks, which were almost the same shade of red as the Cheerios' skirts. She couldn't take it anymore. She suffered from micro-heart attacks every time Quinn made their skin come into contact in what seemed like completely innocuous interactions to her. 

"Rach, are you okay?" the cheerleader said with a worried tone, tilting her head to take a better look at the girl.

She could feel her stomach twisting as she heard the pet name coming out of Quinn's mouth. Rach. Just like Finn used to call her. Finn, her real man-male-guy-boy-friend. That was it, she couldn't take it anymore. 

It wasn't a problem that she was saying it. It actually sent shivers down her spine—In a good way—when she heard it in that low, but still feminine voice. But it was a reminder of what was haunting her since Wednesday— the fact that it was just a week of playing girlfriends, and everything ended today. 

She felt like throwing up. The songs, the looks, not even the hand holding mattered because probably, by Monday Quinn would be back with Sam—which wouldn't be a problem if she could say the same thing about her with Finn. But she was the problem, she was the one who wasn't interested in making things up with her ex-boyfriend. She needed something—someone else, and that someone was sitting right in front of her

Quinn Fabray made every horrible day of high school worth it. She was beautiful, fun, smart, a shoulder to cry on—and that would make an excellent friend, except for the fact that she yearned for the taste of her lips.  

Normal buddies don't grab your hands and bat their eyes at you when you have lunch with them, buddies don't make your stomach twist, and most importantly, you don't sing love songs to them in Glee Club. 

Quinn was more than that. She liked being near Quinn—she liked.. she liked Quinn! Shit. She really did. She wanted her only for herself and the worst part of it was that it was an absolutely impossible fantasy. There were a hundred different scenarios that she could imagine for it to end, and almost every one was devastating. 

She confesses her love to Quinn and she rejects her—She confesses her love to Quinn and not only she rejects her, but she tells the whole school about it and now she's a bullied lesbian. Or she shuts her mouth about it, doesn't tell anyone and she just dedicates to rotting inside every time she sees her kissing Sam. 

Being only her friend was bad, being her girlfriend was impossible—and also kinda bad. She didn't know what she wanted, but it definitely wasn't being in the middle of the cafeteria in front of her crush while she had a breakdown. 

The weight of the whole week was leaning over her, right in front of her eyes, like the announcement of the apocalypse. 

"I need to go," she gasped, her gaze lost on the small juice box on her food tray. 

Rachel got up, resting her hands on the table. She looked at Quinn for a few seconds and then stormed out of the cafeteria. 

She could've gone home, but when she tried to escape the school she only panicked harder—being too responsible sometimes is a curse.  

She went hiding in the bathrooms as in the “good old days” and avoided everyone who was wearing a cheerios uniform. 

Quinn tried looking for Rachel—and realized that she was the only one who actually cared about the brunette's disappearance—and failed miserably. Not a trace of the diva all around the school. 

Her old self—last week's self—would've killed for a day without Rachel opening her mouth, yet now it felt like a day without sun, an annoying sun that likes throwing its shiny rays directly into your eyes, but still warm and familiar.

Quinn had guessed that Rachel wouldn't miss Glee Club for anything in the world—and she was right, but looking at her only made her more concerned. 

When she entered the room the girl was sitting down looking at her own feet. Even though Quinn sat down next to her and tried talking, she wouldn't listen. 

Actually, she didn't do anything. Glee Club ended with Rachel not singing, speaking or even making the effort of responding to Santana's comments, such as "Are you sad because your girlfriend bullied you into breaking up with her?" 

Quinn went home with an uncomfortable sensation in her stomach—different from a pregnancy, thank God—a pressure that held back her breath every time she pictured the brunette. 

After everyone looked at them hanging out in school, it was kinda obvious to everyone that she was leaving the school without the company of the smaller girl on a Friday evening. 

Her body felt heavy. She arrived home, walked up the stairs like she was making a superhuman effort, and sprawled on her bed. She rolled in it for minutes trying to sleep, but it was useless. Rachel kept appearing every time she closed her eyes. 

Maybe a small text message would be enough—one text and everything would be alright again, yes. She grabbed her phone and took a deep breath before typing, "Hey. Are you alright?"

An hour quickly went by without the girl responding, and the pressure only grew bigger. Maybe she was just busy. Busy and not trying to ignore her, right? 

She waited for a miracle to happen, looking at the ceiling and then her phone every few seconds. Useless. She resigned to the idea of looking like she was begging for her attention and tried to call, but once again, there wasn't an answer.

Quinn couldn't wait until Monday. After the weekend, they would have to come back to their usual not-talking routine, and that single idea turned her stomach—Rachel wasn't even saying goodbye. 

Apparently, fake breakups hurt more than real ones—and how could it not be so? She was always there. In almost every memory she had from school, Rachel appeared somehow. 

Even though more than half of the moments she remembered with the brunette... didn't have a very good connotation—until now—they all felt more significant and intimate than those she had with any man. 

It was the frustration, the admiration, and the profound need of having her near. A reason to be better that taught her a lot of things every day during the last couple of years—loving and forgiving people like Rachel can also be smart. 

Quinn knew she could never handle both things at the same time—that's why the brunette would always be more special than her. She had learned what having Rachel Berry in her life meant, and now she couldn't risk losing that beautiful curse. 

Quinn sighed, taking one of her hands to her forehead, and typed her ex-boyfriend's number on her phone—What a humiliating day. 

She waited, wishing that he would still answer after how much of an asshole she had been to him. It was taking a while for Sam to respond—she couldn't blame him. Not every day your allegedly lesbian ex-girlfriend calls you after breaking up. 

She was right about hanging up the phone, when Sam's voice came from the other side of the line.

"Quinn?"

"Hello, Sam. Before you respond I want you to consider that you're the only person with a car that I trust enough to ask him a favor." True fact. Kinda sad if you think about it. "Now that you're informed on that, I need you to take me to Rachel's."

"Like, right now?" 

"Sam, please." He didn't answer, but right after that sentence, Quinn heard steps, a door opening, and a car engine starting. "Sam?" 

 "Aye aye, Captain!" he said with an awfully high-pitched voice.

Quinn regretted her driver in that moment. "Are you impersonating SpongeBob?" There was a weird mix between a smile and a disgusted expression on her face. 

The boy hung out the phone before answering. In no time, Sam was outside the Fabray's house, honking the car's horn to the rhythm of Jingle Bells. 

As soon as she heard the car she ran downstairs with nothing but her pink flip phone in her hand—just in case Rachel suddenly decided to answer her calls, you know. 

She crossed the house's door and found the old red pickup truck. The boy smiled from the inside of the car, giving her a thumbs-up. 

"Thanks, Sam," she said, getting into the car with agitated breathing.

Sam cleared his throat before speaking, trying his best not to be weird. "So, to Rachel's house, right?"

Quinn avoided the boy's gaze by looking through the window. "Yeah."

"Huh. Are you guys like... an item now?" he said looking at the front of the road, slowing the car's pace a bit. 

Quinn just sighed and let out a sad groan after hearing the question, directing her hands to her face. No, they weren't anymore—well, they never were. 

Sam smiled at the blonde, even though she couldn't see him. "Okay. Hard situation, I get it... It was nice seeing you guys, you know... not trying to kill each other during the week," he joked in an attempt to lighten the mood, miserably failing.

Quinn emitted another sad groan—she was a very hard public. Sam gave up with the conversation stuff until the car stopped in front of Rachel's place—he had just learned about the importance of shutting his mouth during inappropriate moments the hard way. 

Quinn didn't know what was more of a torture. Not having Sam's bothersome imitations buzzing in her ear just gave her more time for making up awful scenarios about her and Rachel's crash out—every slushie, every cruel word. How could Rachel not run away from her? 

Quinn didn't even notice when they were already there. Sam's voice warned her with a soft "We're here" that made her jump. She had been absorbed by her own thoughts during the whole ride. 

"I hope you have luck with... whatever you need to do," Sam said with a careful tone, afraid of touching another nerve in the girl.

She silently thanked him once again with a soft look before getting out of the car and walking towards the Berry's house. 

She breathed in and out and knocked. Every little hit on the door made the situation feel more real—for Sam too, who was still waiting for the girl to enter the house. She felt like a stray dog under the rain, waiting for Rachel Berry to come and save her from her own dark thoughts. 

A couple of minutes passed before the door opened, and there she was. The brunette appeared with a slight pout on her mouth, already wearing her pajamas; a two-piece pink outfit with white dots. "If you're here to shame me about my childish ideas and behavior, you can go away. I'll do it myself."

"Can I come in?" Quinn muttered, instantly relaxing at the sight of the smaller girl. 

Rachel stepped aside and extended her arm toward the inside of the house. "Why are you here?"

"I don't know, why did you run away?" she asked, forcing a gentle tone while she crossed her arms. She actually wanted to make a huge scene. 

Rachel faced the girl with big, sad eyes "I had some personal complications," she responded with a serious tone that didn't match her face. 

"Yes. In the middle of lunch," the blonde said raising her tone a bit, making Rachel frown. "Come on, I just want to talk to you!"

The brunette sat down on the couch, avoiding Quinn's classic crushing gaze. "When you called me Rach it felt... I don't know, weird."

Quinn followed, sitting next to her. "Well, that happens when you fake date someone..." She raised her hand to comfort the girl, almost getting to brush her shoulder with the tip of her fingers. 

Rachel quickly turned around before the blonde could touch her. "And that's the problem!" Quinn flinched at the girl's voice, quickly hiding her hand. "This week, you... made me feel happy. I was happy with you." Rachel's eyes softened as she looked into the blonde's. Her frown turned into a helpless look.

"Rachel I—"

"Are you going to tell me that you didn't feel anything?" Quinn didn't respond. "Quinn Fabray, I have always known that you're a very fake person, bu—"

"Why would you want me near you?" She interrupted the girl, pinning her eyes on the table in front of the couch. 

Rachel swallowed as if talking took her an insane effort "You're the perfect girl... you're beautiful, you're smart, you're a people magnet even when you're mean to them!" she stood up, looking at Quinn who had just froze in the couch "Life hasn't been easy on you and still, somehow, you keep getting stronger. I want that, Quinn! I want to know you!"

The blonde took Rachel by her hands and made her sit down next to her again. She waited a few seconds to gain strength. She timidly cupped one of Rachel's cheeks, guiding her gaze to the girl's soft, pink lips to admire them for a moment. 

The little distance between them started shortening as they were both mesmerized by the other, until Quinn's face leaned over Rachel's in a quick move, tilting her head to deepen the contact between their lips. 

The soft pressure of Rachel's cherry-balm-tasting lips corresponding to hers sent a wave of relief through her tensed body. It felt right. That's how every kiss in her life should have been, and now she knew it.

Even though their mouths tried to fight the desperate feeling, the kiss deepened with every little gasp. The brunette's hand fisted, grabbing the fabric of Quinn's Cheerios skirt, as if holding onto it would save her from the concentrated need that had built up after a whole week of restraint.

They were forced to separate due to the need for air. Rachel looked at Quinn with wide open eyes, with a satisfied shine in them. 

Rachel's chest rose and fell with agitation "Are we still fake girlfriends?" 

"Shut up, Berry," Quinn giggled and rested her forehead against Rachel's letting out a sigh, followed by a smile.