Archive of Our Own

“What are you afraid of losing, when nothing in the world belongs to you?” — Marcus Aurelius

“...Sometimes, you just want
something so hard you have to lie about it,
so you can hold it in your mouth for a minute...”
— “Lies About Sea Creatures”, Ada Limón

A bleacher’s underside seemed the worst possible location for a friend group to hang out, but here was Rachel who headed in that direction. She crossed through the back of the school and past the shed attached to the main building. Those were the locker rooms for athletes. Even further past those structures she went, and around a corner until she caught sight of the fake verdant green of the football field, with its confusing lines and notches. She did not continue all the way to the field and instead ducked underneath the gravelled underbelly of the metal bleachers. The entire time, she cursed the necessity of this foolish errand, though what awaited her on the other side did not feel quite as foolish, because at the furthest end of the figurative tunnel, stood pink-haired, eye-lined Quinn Fabray.

She was dressed in a long, flowing dark skirt and a black shirt of a band Rachel had never heard of, the sleeves ripped and fraying so that the creamy skin and toned muscles of her upper arms were exposed. Despite the changes in her wardrobe and style, Quinn looked beautiful. Or, Rachel corrected her thinking, Quinn is beautiful regardless of fashion. She could be wearing blue jeans and a shirt but she could still make it work. It was her very features that drew the eyes to her and now was no exception. With a cigarette pinched between her index and middle fingertips, Quinn spoke in a low voice with her newfound friends whose names Rachel did not know. The crunch of gravel underfoot drew their attention and the three ‘friends’ turned to Rachel’s direction, but not Quinn.

“Oh, who’s this dweeby lookin’ gal?” cooed one-third of Quinn’s companions, the one with long, flowing hair and lips that looked stung by bees and wore a denim vest. “This is our spot. Get out.”

“Believe me I would want nothing more,” Rachel retorted. “But I need to speak to you, Quinn.”

Their eyes locked and Rachel’s prepared speech fizzled out of her mind. The things she wanted to say about their relationship—their friendship—and Rachel’s regrets of not forcing her way into Quinn’s life even more... they all dissolved into blankness the moment Quinn’s soft gaze landed on her. Rachel gripped her bag strap tighter and swallowed. “Please come back to glee club.”

Quinn chuckled. “That’s all you have to say? And here I was prepared to hear you begging.” She took a confident step closer to Rachel and the singer fought against the urge to recoil.

“We need you. Your voice, the club lacks it,” Rachel wanted to smack herself. Her only means of convincing Quinn had gone away from her as the pink-haired girl continued to watch her, lip curled in amusement. The way Quinn looked at anyone had always been intense and being the focus of her scrutiny always left Rachel’s palms sweating and her words came tumbling out of her in a stutter.

Quinn flicked the ash off the end of her cigarette. “There’s nothing left for me there.”

Rachel blinked. How can Quinn think that? She opened her mouth to ask Quinn to elaborate but another one of Quinn’s new friends smacked her fist against the flat of her palm. “If you have nothing else to say, leave. Quinn was about to tell us the plot of Frankenstein before your scraggy ass came by.”

Flinching, Rachel cleared her throat to summon the feelings she had, the sense of loss of a choir room without Quinn. “For all my talk about the glee club needing you, or us missing you... What I mean to say is that I miss you. I am the one who needs you back because—and here she blanked. “You are important to me.”

There, Rachel has said it, the sentiment that she herself cannot believe, and judging from Quinn’s raised brow, she did not seem persuaded either. She grasped at straws. Uttered the first thing that came to mind.

“Please, Quinn, I—I’d do anything to have you back.”

Quinn smirked and pulled from her cigarette. The stream of smoke hazed the details of Quinn’s face and it was as if Rachel drifted in a dream. “Yeah? Anything?”

The next thing Rachel discerned through her senses was the smell of smoke and the undercurrent of Quinn’s herby, sweet perfume. Her low voice thrummed by Rachel’s ear. “You know, I think I’ll take you up on that.”

She took Rachel by the wrist and away from her group of friends who continued to watch them until they vanished from view. Quinn took her to the shed that contained gym and sports equipment, currently isolated. She pushed Rachel against the brick facade of the wall and the singer felt the rough scrape of it against her arms. Quinn propped her arm against the wall by Rachel’s head. Smoke and mint overwhelmed her, and so did Quinn’s face as she eclipsed the sun. Quinn tilted Rachel’s face to angle up towards her.

It was the first kiss that Rachel had that tasted of cigarettes. It was easy to ignore though, in favour of Quinn’s soft mouth against hers, her hand on her hip. Rachel’s blood stirred and it alarmed her. She snapped her head back. Thankfully, Quinn was alert to this and the hand she had by Rachel’s head blocked it from slamming against the wall.

“I’m—I’m with Finn,” Rachel gasped.

“I see. So you wouldn’t do anything after all.”

She put her hands in her pockets and stepped away. Before she could turn around, Rachel reached for her shirt, fist closing around the fabric. “I will, I will. I’ll—make him understand.”

Quinn smiled. “I’m glad you agree.”

Quinn’s return to the club was not immediate and Rachel should have known that one kiss by the equipment shed would not have fixed everything. The weight of the kiss stayed with her for two days, and during those two days she struggled to be present whenever Finn spoke to her, or tried to initiate some form of bid for intimacy. After every flubbed attempt, Rachel apologised. Especially now, while they were in Rachel’s bedroom, horizontal upon her bed with Finn half on top of Rachel. She pushed him off and it took him a second to heed it.

“I’m really sorry Finn. I’m far too distracted with everything happening to give you the attention you require. I’m sorry,” she repeated, holding her boyfriend’s massive hands in hers.

“No worries. I’m just relieved it wasn’t anything I did,” he said, grinning. “It’s the Quinn stuff, isn’t it? Have you made any progress with her?”

Rachel cleared her throat. “No, not yet. I’m still in the midst of trying to persuade her.”

“I know you can do it. I believe in you,” Finn pressed a kiss to the top of Rachel’s head and rolled off her bed to stand and stretch. “I guess I can go home...”

The week that followed after Quinn kissed Rachel left her tense and frazzled with nerves. Every time she passed the pink-haired girl in the school’s hallways (always a shocker that Quinn still went to class despite the crowd she had fallen with), Rachel’s shoulders hunched up and her hands closed tighter around the binder pressed against her chest. But for those five days they were in school, nothing else transpired beyond that stolen kiss. And it started to drive Rachel crazy with anxiety.

It was difficult to find the time to approach Quinn since she was nowhere nearby during lunch and Rachel wanted to pay attention to Finn at least. They shared a handful of classes so it seemed as good a time as any, but it took Rachel a few days to muster the courage. In their shared AP History class, Rachel took the seat beside Quinn and took out her notebook for the lecture. Quinn did not so much as acknowledge her presence.

“What else do you want from me?” Rachel asked. “I—” she lowered her voice, “I kissed you and still you haven’t returned to glee club.”

“If I remember right, I kissed you,” Quinn said in a bored tone. “And one measly kiss from you is not enough to make me want to go back to glee club.”

“Hence why I asked,” Rachel hissed. “What else do you want from me?”

Quinn rested her face against her upturned palm. Eyed Rachel up and down like a cat observing its prey. She even licked her lips as she did so. “Meet me in the celibacy club room after school.”

“There’s no more celibacy club.”

“That’s why the room would be empty.”

Rachel let Finn know during their lunch break that she would have to stay back after school because of a group project. Finn only shrugged and nodded, so at least that was nothing to worry about. What made Rachel’s stomach churn as she nibbled her sandwich was the sheer unknown of what would happen to her after the violent ring of the dismissal bell.

After every class had finished, Rachel kissed Finn goodbye and watched him depart in his truck. With a deep sigh, Rachel found her way into the celibacy club, a familiar room for her given the events of last year. When she entered the room, originally the science classroom for the younger grades, Quinn was already there drawing something on the blackboard. Upon closer inspection, it was of Rachel and Quinn kissing.

At the startled gasp from Rachel, Quinn only laughed and with one swipe erased their features where it was connected. She brushed the chalk dust from her hands and turned to Rachel. “You came.”

“I told you I would,” Rachel muttered. She dropped her bag on the ground and sat on the desk, facing Quinn. “Well? What do you want from me now?”

“Geez, don’t sound so begrudging,” Quinn approached her until her thighs were pressed up against Rachel’s knees. “You’re the one who offered to do anything in the first place. Had you just offered to do my homework for a week, I would have accepted that too.”

The closeness was new, sudden, and alarming. Rachel’s throat flexed and she ignored the radiating warmth of Quinn’s palms on her thighs, over her skirt. Now she understood completely how Finn was unable to resist Quinn last year, or Puck, or Sam. Quinn had an allure so intoxicating. How it felt such an honour that she was looking at you with her eyes speckled with green and gold. It left Rachel breathless.

“Can we go back to that, then? I'd do your homework for a week.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “My GPA is higher than yours.”

“Ugh, fine. Don't say I didn't try. And I only offered anything because I thought getting you back was going to be easy.”

“Is that how you see me? Easy?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m teasing, Rachel. Relax.” Quinn nudged Rachel’s knees apart and settled in between them. Rachel berated herself for attempting to act cool, of all things, by sitting on a table, when there were chairs everywhere. Now here she was with her legs wrapped around Quinn’s waist! Yet, the feeling, the state she found herself in, was not unpleasant. Not at all.

“Quinn, how much more of this would you want me to undergo before you come back to glee club?” Rachel asked in exasperation.

Quinn hummed and raised Rachel’s arms so it rested on the pink-haired girl’s shoulders. She then rested her hands on Rachel’s hips. “I want to make out with you five times.”

Rachel swallowed. “Quinn, I have a boyfriend.”

“Then I suppose the deal’s off,” Quinn stated with a shrug, as if it meant nothing to her whereas for Rachel it meant everything. Quinn made as if to move away but Rachel grasped her with her legs and pulled her closer.

“No,” she insisted. “That’s not what I meant. I think—I think Finn would understand why I’m doing this...” Rachel said, quietly, more to herself than the grinning girl in front of her, whose hands now wandered up her sides.

“Sure he would,” Quinn assured her. “He’s been known to be so understanding.”

“If you’re going to be like that about my boyfriend—” Rachel paused. Quinn’s smug expression did not waver and that was when Rachel understood that no, she had no means of handling this power struggle because without a doubt, Quinn had the upper hand. There was too much at stake and she needed to leave her dignity at the front door along with her inhibitions.

“Yes, I know you have a boyfriend. It’s impossible to be a student at this school without knowing that you’re dating Finn,” Quinn rolled her eyes. “Every assembly the glee club performs in, it’s pushed in your face.”

Rachel frowned. “Are you still jealous he chose me?”

Quinn’s laugh was amused. “Are you serious? No, Rachel. I don’t want your boyfriend.”

Quinn grasped the back of Rachel’s neck and closed the distance between them. Kissing someone else, someone new, and someone who took the form of one’s ex-bully and was now Rachel’s... friend?—was an experience she could not describe. It felt good, great, even. Faced with this admission, she blinked away the haze when Quinn pulled her mouth back, away from Rachel.

“We could have avoided all of this fighting, you know,” Quinn’s low voice, raspy and hot against Rachel’s cheek, “had you just started kissing me sooner.”

Rachel locked her fingers together against Quinn’s nape. Her heart thundered, loud and annoying, against the cage of her ribs. Pulled the pink-haired girl close to feel her mouth again. She drifted in and out of focusing on the sensory wonderland that was Quinn’s being. She did not want to get lost in it, for how would she find her way back? Lost in the maze of Quinn’s lips, her soft, small moans, the warmth that radiated from her skin, through her clothes, Rachel would have no means of getting out and she knew it.

Rachel could not help but moan when Quinn gripped her tighter and licked her upper lip. Rachel drew back and licked Quinn’s spit from her lip and cleared her throat. Her voice came out thick when she said, “that’s enough.”

Quinn smiled and took a step back. “Okay.”

The swift acceptance of a boundary laid was refreshing. No wheedling, no whining, no fuss. Only Quinn’s offered hand so that Rachel could hop off the table. She underestimated how weak her legs were—for all her time in the elliptical—and it took her by surprise. Her knees gave out but she had no need to worry because Quinn was there and caught her.

“You okay?” Quinn asked, her usually-golden eyes wide and expansive in their darkness.

“Yes, thank you.”

They gathered their bags and together left the room. The hallways were empty. Only their footsteps echoed between them. Outside, in the mid-September weather that contained the dregs of summer’s heat, the parking lot sat vacant save for a handful of vehicles.

“I’ll drive you home,” Quinn said, sparing Rachel the necessity of asking.

Rachel nodded her thanks. She sat in Quinn’s car that smelled of pine and faint leather while the pink-haired girl put her bag away in the backseat. The rosary draped behind the rear view mirror clicked as Quinn drove out of the school’s parking lot.

“Do you know where I live?” Rachel asked.

“Of course.”

“Why ‘of course’?”

“In case I ever find you stranded somewhere and you can’t speak, I need to be able to drive you home,” said Quinn.

“Are you serious?” Rachel asked, staring at Quinn’s side profile.

“Obviously not. I just remember it from when you had a party at your house,” Quinn said with a glance towards Rachel. “I happen to have it in my brain in the folder of useless information. Like anteaters are just aardvarks for kids.”

Quinn pulled into Rachel’s driveway and set her car to park. Turned to face Rachel as best as she could with her left arm rested upon the wheel of her car. “Well, here you are. Hope you had fun.”

“I wouldn’t call it fun, but I did enjoy myself,” Rachel said. She gathered her things and before she could close the car’s door behind her, Quinn called out her name.

“Invite me to your room next time.”

Rachel stuttered, at a loss of what to say, so all that came out of her was, “okay.”

She had never seen Quinn grin so much in one day, all instances aimed towards her. It gave the energy of a predator baring her teeth in a show of force, but in a prettier way. Quinn waved and left Rachel standing on her driveway until the red car vanished from view.

She was being truthful when she said she did enjoy herself, but she did not allow herself to think of its implications until the next day when Finn picked her up from her house so they could drive to school together. She had not noticed before, but there was a musty smell in Finn’s car from all the athletic equipment he had scattered on the floor of his backseat, and she refused to hold it against him. She also could not look him in the eye, and was sure that he found her quiet demeanour so early in the morning to be unnerving.

“Everything okay, Rachel? How was your group thing yesterday?”

“Group thing? Oh, yes, that. It went as well as one could hope. We figured out our work distribution and such...” A flash of a memory, of Quinn’s hot breath against her ear. Rachel shivered and Finn noticed, so he reached out an arm to wrap around her shoulders to rub her upper arms.

“It is a little cold today, huh?” Finn asked kindly.

Rachel could only nod. Unable to state the truth that she felt the opposite—that it was heat that surged through her body at the memory of Quinn’s lips, and nothing about the barest hint of the cold of the day. And that was what drove the guilt to the forefront of her mind. Rachel went through her day lost in thought.

What was Quinn’s endgame here by demanding she and Rachel have five makeout sessions just so she would return to glee club? Was this going to end in entrapment, where she would reveal to Finn that Rachel had been making out with her all this while? So that they would break up and then end up together? The mere thought of it made her nauseous.

In every class she shared with Quinn, there was a look of recognition that remained just that—a look. It made Rachel antsy, all this knowledge Quinn had that could ruin her. Today, the rose-haired girl wore a black jean jacket that had a patch sewn on the back panel of a painting. Rachel had looked it up, found it to be of Skull of a Skeleton with Burning Cigarette by Van Gogh. Rachel wondered if Quinn was imitating the painting with how often she seemed to have a cigarette between her lips. When the lunch bell rang after their AP Chemistry class together, Rachel grabbed Quinn by the wrist and took her to the nearest bathroom she could find.

“Quinn, I need to talk to you.”

“And here I was hoping you can’t wait to make out again—”

“Shhhh!” Rachel hissed, eyeing the one or two students that were in the bathroom with them, a hand clamped over Quinn’s mouth. “Will you promise to just hear me out? No witty comebacks.” Her hand still pressed against Quinn, all the pink-haired girl could do was shrug and gesture at Rachel’s hand. The moment Rachel released her, Quinn said,

“You think I’m witty?”

“Quinn!” Rachel cried out in exasperation.

“What, it was just a question,” she said, nudging Rachel gently off of her. “What do you want? I’m listening.”

Faced now with a Quinn not in the middle of some sort of hi-jinks that involved seducing her, or saying odd things that made her stomach squeeze in an oddly pleasant way, Rachel could not help but think that she truly was beautiful. A very valid thing for her to think—it was nothing but pure objective observation. She cleared her throat and asked, “our arrangement—what is it about?”

“You mean—” Quinn gestured between them, and Rachel offered a panicky nod. “I wanted to see if you mean it.”

Rachel’s brow furrowed. “Mean what?”

“What you said about you doing anything to have me back.” There was no hint of teasing there and it made the atmosphere in the now-empty bathroom more tense than it should be.

“Of course I mean it,” Rachel said, “glee club means everything to me.”

“Right, of course. The glee club,” Quinn smiled but it was off. Rachel would be at the latter end of the list for people who could claim that they could read Quinn and knew her well, but in this instance, Rachel sensed that something was amiss. What it was, she found that she could not say. “Is that everything you wanted to tell me? Can I leave? I’m starving.”

“Yes, yes. Sorry to keep you,” Rachel stepped aside and followed Quinn out of the bathroom. “Will you be at the cafeteria then?”

“For a minute. Why?”

“We have our performance to garner interest for the glee club. We need new members.”

“I’ll watch.”

“I also can’t—um—can’t be with you today.”

“I know when glee club meets, Rachel,” Quinn said, rolling her eyes.

“So if you don’t mind tomorrow instead...”

Quinn’s devilish grin had returned. “Tomorrow sounds great.”

Their paths split by the double-doors to the cafeteria—Rachel to meet up with the club members for one last meeting before their performance, and Quinn so she could get front row seats to whatever was about to happen in the lunch room.

“All set?” Mr. Schue asked everyone. “This’ll be great. You’ll find people interested in joining us, I can just feel it.”

Rachel nodded warily and turned her attention to Finn. “Are you nervous?”

“Nah. Why, are you?” He asked in alarm. “I’ve never seen you nervous before. What’s up?”

“No, no, I’m not nervous,” she laughed, touching his arm in assurance. “It’s our first performance of the school year—I only want to make our club’s appeal shine through.”

“You’ll do great,” Finn kissed the top of her head and grabbed his drumsticks from his backpack. His arm around her, the club filtered in through the cafeteria doors. Finn perched himself behind his drum set and the music began to play.

In the sea of faces aimed at Rachel, the mixture of expressions were predictable—some were curious, some were repulsed, some were straight up bored and uncaring. Among the faces, one beacon of pink light stood out to her. Of Quinn, sat upon one of the nearby tables, her lunch tray empty except for a globe of a shiny red apple. She locked eyes with Quinn who gave her a raised brow, her equivalent of a thumbs up. They sang their rehearsed song, and Rachel climbed the table upon which Quinn sat.

Rachel did her shimmies and her shakes. At one point, she felt the creeping of a hand along her bare calf, and she glanced down at Quinn who had one elbow against the table, her chin resting upon her upturned palm. She was looking up at Rachel while her fingertips caressed the skin of her legs. Goosebumps rose to the surface, Rachel could feel it.

What was she doing? She was supposed to be focused on this recruitment drive but all she wanted was to feel the soft touch of this rose-haired girl who looked at her with something she could believe to be admiration, even affection. But why now, after all this time? Was it because they’ve had each other’s tongues in the other’s mouth? Was that what all it took?

Rachel had to hop off the table and convene with everyone in front of the band, so she hopped and skipped in time with the beat. The final note ended and she stood in front of the school, arms held out, her brightest grin upon her face. She scanned the crowd and all she saw was boredom, annoyance, and overall hostility.

Becky Jackson, Sue Sylvester’s most current minion, approached their group. In her possession, an extra-large slushie cup. Rachel had experienced this scenario over a hundred times, but she had been so sure that slushies to the face had been banned altogether. She stood frozen, hyperaware of the fact that Becky looked at her—and only her.

The cheerleader pulled her arm back. Rachel braced herself.

Then, someone who smelled like pine and cigarettes shielded her from what she expected to feel—a wet, icy slap in the face. Instead, she heard its wet strike against fabric. When Rachel opened her eyes, Quinn had her in her arms. Over her shoulder, she saw Becky’s stance as someone who had thrown the slushie. The red dyed liquid and the ice pooled on the floor.

Quinn grabbed Rachel’s arm and pulled her away as the first wad of overcooked fettuccine noodles was lobbed from the crowd towards the glee club. Behind them, the cacophony of a lunch room food fight. Rachel and Quinn escaped through the double doors that led outside, where it was quiet the moment the doors closed behind them. But even still, Quinn kept walking until they found themselves around the school building by the front doors.

“Quinn...” Rachel gasped, grabbing her by the shoulders to spin her around and assess the damage of the slush against her jacket. “Your jacket is ruined!”

“No it isn’t. It can be washed,” Quinn parked herself on a stone bench and removed her jean jacket to reveal that she wore a baggy black tank top underneath. Her creamy skin seemed to glow and reflect all light, her toned arms firm while she kept her hold on Rachel’s hand, their fingers locked together.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Rachel said.

“I know. I wanted to,” Quinn answered as she swung their linked arms. Her jacket was balled-up beside her.

“But why?”

Quinn frowned. “Did you want to get slushied?”

“No! Of course not! Who wants to be, ever?”

“Then why are you so hostile? Can’t you just thank me?”

“Why should I thank you when it was you who established the tradition of throwing a bucket’s worth of sharp, icy slush in people’s faces?” Rachel snapped as she snatched her hand away from Quinn, who only let her hand fall limp against her knee. “If you hadn’t done it in the first place, we would not be in this position.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I only wanted to make up for it,” Quinn said quietly and rose to her feet. She snatched her jacket from the bench. Without another look at Rachel, she abandoned the girl who mentally kicked herself for causing the wounded, guilty look on the pretty girl’s face. Why was Rachel so hostile? It was not like her to carry resentment in herself, and she was so sure that she did not feel said resentment, most of all towards Quinn.

Rachel wondered if she should go back to the choir room, or seek out Quinn to apologise. The atmosphere within the club would surely be bellicose with Santana leading the charge, riling everyone up to a bloodthirsty frenzy. Rachel did not want to deal with that right now, even if it meant leaving Finn to handle it. She ran towards the bleachers in search for her favourite colour and was shocked when she located none, only found seventy-five percent of the Skanks.

“Well, well. Come back to look for Quinn?” Mack asked, her arms crossed across her torso. “She’s not here.”

“I see that,” Rachel said. “Would you know where I could find her?”

“She hasn’t been by in a while,” Sheila said.

“You didn’t have to go around telling her that!” Mack shrieked.

Rachel nodded her thanks towards Sheila who was now in the middle of rolling another cigarette. She made an about-face and ran back into the school, looking into every classroom. When she reached the science classroom, she berated herself for not realising sooner that this was where Quinn would be. Rachel found her sitting at a desk, and looked up at Rachel’s approach. Her jacket, washed and dripping water on the floor, was hooked on the skull of Bertina, the skeleton model.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said in a breathless rush.

“You don’t have to apologise.”

“Yes I do,” Rachel insisted as she approached Quinn. She stood by the opposite side of the desk where Quinn sat. “I’ve never resented you. I had no idea why I said all those things. You haven’t thrown a slushie at me in years, so why would I blame you for what almost happened to me? You even saved me from it.”

Quinn said nothing. Rachel kept talking.

“It is all because I feel like a frayed bundle of nerves around you. All this attention you’re turning towards me is all so new, and your request...” Rachel took a deep, steadying breath. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m willing to do it, which I think is what’s bothering me,” she looked up at Quinn who now stood in front of her. “Why am I so willing?”

Quinn was so close now that Rachel put her hands on her shoulders to keep her at arm’s length. Rachel’s fist curled against the fabric of her tank top. “Why me, Quinn? When you can have any girl or guy at your beck and call? You have a school entire willing to do your bidding. Why me?”

“Because it’s you,” Quinn said with a simplicity that unnerved Rachel.

“What does that mean? Don’t tell me you like me?”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Quinn,” Rachel whined, beating her fists against the smiling girl’s chest. She grasped handfuls of the fabric. “Do you? Like me?”

“You just said not to say it,” Quinn grasped Rachel’s wrists. The lunch bell rang, much to Rachel’s dismay, because she hadn’t had lunch and she had not debriefed with the glee club. The meeting after school would be horrible; she could foresee the anger that would be conveniently aimed at her that for a brief moment, Rachel considered skipping it altogether.

Quinn handed her an apple. “You want it?”

“Oh, thanks. I haven’t eaten,” Rachel took a bite of the tart but sweet apple while Quinn took her jacket though it was still damp. They left the classroom together and were assailed by Finn whose striped shirt was streaked with many colours, ranging from tomato sauce red, pesto green, and mushroom soup beige.

“Rachel! Thank god you’re okay!” he grabbed her hands. Quinn slipped away and Rachel watched her in the corner of her eye. “When the first slushie was thrown and you just disappeared, I didn’t know what to think. I thought you got trampled or abducted or something. Why didn’t you go back to the choir room so we would know that you’re okay?” Finn shook Rachel by the shoulders with the words he wanted to punctuate.

“I’m sorry, Finn. I wasn’t thinking.”

His eyes softened and he released her arms. “That’s okay. But you’re not hurt anywhere, right?”

“I’m fine.”

Finn wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her to the opposite direction of where Rachel had wanted to go. That was the mood Rachel carried for the rest of the afternoon—a feeling of wanting to be somewhere else, somewhere specific, and not where she currently stood. Not in the dramatic arts class she took for an elective, not even in the choir room that reeked with stale food that had gone off, still stuck in the hairs of some of her club mates.

“How come you’re not covered in shit, Berry?” As expected, Santana latched onto Rachel’s differing state immediately. Santana was also not covered in food as she took advantage of the showers in the Cheerio locker room, same as Brittany. “That’s sketchy as hell. Usually you’re the first target.”

“I was the first target,” Rachel said. “The first slushie was aimed at me, but Quinn saved me from it. Everyone saw it.”

“Huh?! Why would Quinn save you?” Santana demanded.

Rachel dug her heels against the linoleum floors. “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her?”

“Would if I could, dwarf, but as you can see, she’s not here.”

Frustration was a fountain that built up fast and immediate when talking to Santana. Rachel could only stare ahead, her jaw set, while Santana went on and on about how the performance fell apart because of Rachel for some reason, to the point where her persistence took hold. Rachel could see it in Mercedes’ eyes, in Tina’s. Rachel willed the clock to move faster, to match the cloud of rage that permeated everything in the choir room.

Mr. Schuester was wise enough to dismiss the club early—nothing productive was happening. Blame kept getting passed around and no one was receptive enough for any suggestions of actionable items. Everyone rushed to leave the room, save for Finn and Rachel.

“Are you okay?” Finn asked.

“Sometimes, I wish you would defend me,” Rachel said.

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” she flashed Finn a smile that he accepted. “Shall we go home?”

In Finn’s truck, with the seat belt clipped on, the engine coughing, Rachel sat with her fist clenched.

“Can I come over?” Finn asked.

“I’m sorry, not today. Actually, can you drop me off at Quinn’s?”

Finn blinked. “Oh. Um, sure? Why?”

“We have an assignment together.”

He seemed to accept it as he drove. Only the music filled the sound between them, the anger in Rachel simmering hot and intense. Her chest felt tight and she kept shifting in her seat, breathing deep but not sighing because she knew that Finn would take it the wrong way if she sighed. Her nails dug into the flesh of her thighs, left crescents that did not even sting, that was how infuriated she was.

Rachel kissed Finn’s cheek and hopped out of his truck. Did not even look back at him though she could feel his eyes boring on her neck. She rang Quinn’s doorbell and when it opened she heard the faint sound of music within. Something unfamiliar, which did not matter because Quinn stood at the door, confused. The moment she saw Rachel, however, her brow furrowed. She glanced at her driveway, saw Finn still idling there.

“Come in,” Quinn said when Rachel did not so much as greet her.

The moment the door closed behind her, Rachel let out the most livid scream of her life. Her voice echoed in Quinn’s home and the pink-haired girl in question only watched her in amusement. “I take it glee club didn’t go well.”

“Oh you have no idea,” Rachel snarled.

“But I think it’s because you’re starving,” Quinn said. “Can I interest you in something to eat?”

It did not occur to Rachel that her current mood was affected because of her hunger. She followed Quinn into her kitchen where she looked in her pantry and her fridge with a thoughtful expression in her eyes.

“If it helps, I’m eating eggs again,” Rachel said meekly.

“Oh, good. That makes it easier,” Quinn took out a few things from the pantry and the fridge: pucks of dried egg noodles, two eggs, a package of bok choy, and a carton of vegetable broth. She put a sauce pot on the stove filled with the stock and set to boil. In the meantime, she sliced the bulbs of the vegetables, rinsed its insides, and let it drain. From the nearby drawer, she pulled out a narrow bottle of sesame oil and sesame seeds.

“Do you like soup?” Quinn asked Rachel.

“I love soup. I’m willing to eat whatever you’re making. It already looks good.”

Quinn cooked in silence. She split the noodle soup in two bowls, one egg crowning the mound of noodles. The bok choy framed the bowl and the sesame oil split and floated on the broth’s surface. Quinn laid a pair of chopsticks and a soup spoon on a paper towel and slid the bowl and utensils towards Rachel, who sat on the breakfast island, watching the entire while.

“Thank you, Quinn.”

She shrugged. “Have some first. You might not like it.”

One sip of the broth alone and Rachel was hooked. She slurped the noodles and gulped the broth, knowing full well that Quinn watched her. Though she disappeared briefly to set a glass of water beside Rachel’s bowl. She ate greedily, to satiate her hunger. With every bite that filled her, she felt the rage and the anger and the irritation wash away. The crunch of the vegetable, the creaminess of the egg yolk, the springiness of the noodles... the dish was perfect.

When she finished eating she finally looked up to Quinn who ate her noodles unlike her: calmly and with no rush. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes, I feel so much better,” Rachel laughed. “I’m sorry for yelling when I came in.”

“You made Finn drive you here?”

“He doesn’t know what we’re going to do, and I’d like it if you keep it that way.”

“Oh?” Quinn raised her brow and chomped down on the crisp bok choy. “I don’t know what you mean. What are we going to do, Rachel?”

“Finish eating and I’ll remind you,” Rachel said.

It was cute, the way Quinn ate faster. How she chugged a glass of water and wiped her chin with the back of her fist. She brought the bowls to the sink and grabbed Rachel’s hand to bring her to her room in a sprint, Rachel giggling the whole while. It was the first time Rachel had ever stepped foot in Quinn’s room—when they tried to write songs in junior year they did so in Rachel’s house. The room was nothing like the transformation of Quinn’s clothing style. Every wall was covered with bookshelves, and the shelves were crammed with books. Her desk was organised and clean, her bed was made with their blue striped sheets. Even on her bedside table, there were books.

“I like your bedroom,” Rachel said, “it’s very you.”

She perched herself on the foot of Quinn’s bed. Felt the smooth, cold fabric of the covers. Quinn watched her from her position by the door. She approached, the atmosphere so thick it was hard to breathe. Rachel reached out to Quinn, and she met her hand halfway.

It was so easy to fall back into step, into kissing, with Quinn. She should feel guilty that she was not more honest with Finn, but it was hard. Her mistake was that she believed that had she communicated everything clearly to him, he would understand. Then how come Rachel need not verbalise to Quinn that she needed her hand on her waist, her tongue in her mouth? How did Quinn just know?

They lay together on Quinn’s bed, Quinn’s arm tucked underneath Rachel’s neck to keep her head supported. Their warm breaths mingled. Rachel’s fingers were buried in Quinn’s soft, pink hair. Their noses brushed, and Rachel had never felt more at peace despite the nagging voice inside her head.

“Why did you choose to dye your hair pink?” Rachel asked.

“It’s your favourite colour, right?”

“It is.”

Quinn did not respond after that, only let the words and their implications hang over their heads. Rachel stared at her and raised herself up with a frown.

“Quinn, please. What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, if it would make you freak out,” she answered with a frown.

“I wish you would be more direct.”

“I didn’t invite you up here to talk,” Quinn said.

It was true, but it still stung. Rachel tamped down her feelings as best as she could and threw herself into Quinn’s embrace. It was warm due to their combined body heat but there was also a coldness to it not in physical sensation, but in the constriction Rachel nursed inside her ribs. She threaded her fingers through Quinn’s cropped hair and grasped it tight. If to make out was what Quinn wanted from her, she would get it.

She pushed herself into Quinn’s arms, hiked her leg between her thighs and felt the radiating heat there. She flattened herself against Quinn so that she was halfway on top of her. Rachel willed her A-game in kissing. She licked Quinn’s bottom lip and lightly scraped her nails along the base of her scalp. Swallowed the moans that spilled out of her mouth with a greedy suck to her tongue. Quinn looked at her with glassy eyes and smirked.

“Look at you, actually trying,” she said in a raspy voice which sent a spike of arousal down Rachel’s body.

“Mmh,” Rachel whimpered, biting on her own lip to stifle the sound.

Quinn’s fingers were hot, almost burning, when she caressed the sliver of skin that appeared when Rachel’s reindeer sweater rode up her back. She even pushed Rachel’s sweater higher, palms flat against her lower back. Even though it felt nice, like a heated pad, Rachel wanted to have some form control—she needed it. She grasped Quinn’s wrist and pinned it over the pink-haired girl’s head who looked back at her with a pleased grin.

“That is not part of the deal,” Rachel insisted.

“I hear you,” Quinn murmured, and tugged Rachel’s sweater back down. She kissed along Rachel’s neck and pressed her tongue flat against the rapid flutter of her pulse. Rachel’s hips bucked, a movement she did not control.

“No marks either,” she whimpered.

“I know, I know. I’m just licking.”

Rachel’s head was a spinning top. She felt dizzy, like she would do something she would regret—or if not regret, would enjoy—so she pushed herself off of Quinn and sat up. Her heart raced, her thighs stuck together. The lightheadedness was made worse from her sudden movements.

A soothing hand grazed her back. “I’ll drive you home,” said Quinn.

Rachel could only nod. “May I use your bathroom first?”

“It’ll be the door to your right.”

On weak legs Rachel stood and stepped out of Quinn’s room. The bathroom was cool and neat, with green and gold tiles that reminded her of Quinn’s eyes. She ran cold water on her hands and pressed it to her forehead, her neck. Took steadying breaths that had no effect whatsoever on her beating heart. She sat on the toilet and when she wiped herself, felt just how wet she was.

She wiped herself as best she could and washed her hands. Stared at herself in the mirror she imagined Quinn looked into daily while she brushed her teeth or did her eyeliner. Rachel shook her head to clear it. It would not do to think of Quinn in the small moments because all it did was cement the idea that she wanted to witness it. She tightened her fist against the sink’s enamel. What was happening to her?

Rachel returned to Quinn’s bedroom and found the girl still in bed, legs crossed at the ankles, her eyes closed. Upon hearing Rachel’s return she sat up and stretched. “Let’s go?”

In Quinn’s car, Rachel watched the houses pass, the tree-lined streets, the shops and restaurants. They drove mostly in silence, not even the radio filled the air. As Rachel began to recognise the streets, Quinn said,

“I’m sorry. I know I hurt your feelings earlier.”

Rachel glanced at her. “It was a fair statement.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to you,” Quinn gripped the steering wheel and turned into Rachel’s street. “I think I said too much and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t seem to care that making out with you makes me uncomfortable.”

Rachel watched Quinn’s throat flex, her features still as marble. “If you hate it so much, we could stop.”

“No,” Rachel gripped Quinn’s arm. “I’ve gone through too much already.”

Quinn shook her off and pulled into Rachel’s empty driveway. Rachel did not make a move to leave so Quinn set the car to park and turned the engine off.

“I want you to be honest with me, Quinn. I don’t believe that you’re only testing the waters, trying to see how far I would go for the glee club. I think there’s something more at play here.”

“I’ll tell you when the deal is finished.”

“Do you swear? Promise me.”

Quinn faced her and Rachel swore she should be accustomed to Quinn’s beauty in this proximity—she has had her tongue in her mouth!—but she was taken aback by her eyes, the pretty bow of her mouth. “I promise to you, Rachel, that I will tell you my reasons for doing the things I do after we’ve made out for the fifth time. Happy?”

“Not really. It made me realise we’ve only done this twice but I feel so... changed.”

Quinn sighed. “We can stop,” she insisted. “Would you still want me to come back? After everything I’ve put you through?”

“Yes!” Rachel said in exasperation. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense! You’re too forgiving!”

For a moment Rachel only looked at Quinn who up until a few seconds ago met her eyes. They held eye contact a second too long and Quinn ducked her head away. Rachel cupped her chin and tilted it up to meet her eyes once more. “I would like to think we are friends. Because when I tried to look for you today, Sheila said you don’t hang out with the Skanks anymore and I don’t know if you have another group of friends other than them and glee club, but the thought of you being alone—feeling lonely... it hurts me when I could so easily reach out to you. If glee club can be my home, maybe it can be yours too.”

Quinn smiled but it was a wry, broken one that hid so many things that Rachel desperately needed to unearth. “Nothing makes me lonelier than glee club.”

It was a slap in the face. “What?” Rachel gasped.

The pink-haired girl shook her head and started her car. “I’ll tell you everything eventually, but not today.”

Rachel got out of Quinn’s car and watched her drive away. Still at a loss for words, trying her best to wrap her head around Quinn—everything about her was so confusing. Why couldn’t she just be honest, tell Rachel her true feelings and leave nothing out? Why did she find it so difficult?

In her bedroom, Rachel collapsed on her bed with a worn sigh. Today felt long—she couldn’t believe today was their recruitment drive slash performance. And after all her warnings for Quinn that she couldn’t meet up with her today, she had to go and see her. If Finn only knew that Rachel had asked him to drive her to his ex’s house so his current girlfriend could make out with her, he would lose it and Rachel would not blame him for it.

He must never know. Even after Rachel completes the deal with Quinn, she must swear the girl to secrecy that would reach the grave, and if Finn ever asked how she managed to persuade Quinn to return, the only reason Rachel would give was the sheer power of her logic and reason.

The distance that Quinn forced between them was palpable the same way it was palpable that the temperature of the days had dropped, never going higher than sixty degrees even at noon. Rachel felt the cold two-fold: the lack of Quinn’s body left her cold physically, and being ignored froze her emotionally. Even if she tried to chase after the pink head that bobbed in the middle of the hallways, Quinn managed to evade her. In classes they shared, Quinn always arrived first and would always occupy a seat with someone else, and she would also leave as soon as possible.

It was frustrating because all it did, in Rachel’s eyes, was prolong the days that Quinn was not in glee club by having more days between their make out sessions. With Sectionals approaching, the pressure ramped, and when the whole drama with Santana, Brittany, and Mercedes leaving New Directions to form a glee club of their own with Rachel’s egg donor, she was definitely feeling the mental load of caring for the club. Mr. Schue was barely any help because he was having personal problems of his own.

Finn had begun to notice Rachel’s overall distraction over the things they shared and their relationship strained to keep up with the pressures that assailed them on all sides. Without glee club, it seemed that their romance lost the strength they believed it to have. Finn still drove Rachel to and from school, but he never stayed over, hadn’t had dinner with Rachel and her dads for two weeks that they were worried they broke up. As far as Rachel was concerned, they hadn’t, but she didn’t have the time to be thinking about that just yet. She needed to talk to Quinn.

Or, as the pink-haired girl once said—she didn’t ask to talk to Rachel. In that case, Rachel needed to make out with Quinn.

Phrasing it like that, even in her own internal monologue, made her flinch. It was after school on a Tuesday and they had glee club but the remaining members had agreed that there was no point, things fragmented as they were. They all looked to Rachel to fix it—to fix everything, and it got to her.

Rachel looked at the cars in the parking lot and found Quinn’s vehicle to still be there, so she roamed the halls. Told Finn that he should go home ahead of time, and he did not even put up a fight to be polite. Rachel scanned every room and—really, she should learn her lesson—found Quinn in the science room. She found her installing a wig on Bertina.

“Quinn.”

“No glee club today?” Her hair was less pink now, most of the dye had washed out, and her roots showed an inch of blonde hair.

“No. Everything is falling apart I fear.”

“I heard about the Troubletones.”

“So you did,” Rachel sighed and sat behind a desk. “Maybe I should quit glee club.”

She was not serious but Quinn turned to her and said, “you should do whatever will make you happier. You’re the only one keeping that club afloat anyway.”

“But even when I was there I could barely keep everyone together. I couldn’t keep you in it.”

“My decision to quit was not just because of you.”

Rachel stared at Quinn, mouth agape in shock. “So it is because of me?”

“And Finn,” Quinn muttered. She refused to meet Rachel’s eyes, so the singer shot up and stood squarely in front of Quinn.

“What did we do? I knew it was about us somehow—you’re still angry he chose me?”

“Rachel, for the last fucking time, that is not the reason.”

“If you tell me the actual reason, then maybe I would stop thinking that it is.”

“It’s because you chose him. Not just over me, but over glee club,” Quinn said through gritted teeth. Her fists were pale and tight. Her shoulders hunched. “That stunt you pulled that cost us Nationals was stupid, and you can’t keep telling us that you didn’t see it coming. Everyone did. But no, you didn’t move away, and that made you complicit.”

Rachel slumped against the blackboard and fought back the rising tears. “But—it’s over now. There is nothing I can do about it. It was months ago.”

“Yeah. Sure. But I can’t look at you two and not feel that anger. I wanted to avoid hurting your feelings so I just... quit. I’m sorry to be hurting your feelings now.”

Rachel reached out for Quinn who, despite their arguments, their fights, their misunderstandings and frustrations with each other, still met her halfway. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I really wasn’t thinking about your feelings. I didn’t think anyone cared that much that we lost since I was the one who cared the most.”

Quinn shook her head. “Everyone cared that we lost. And just because only you could quantify how much you care about the club doesn’t mean we all don’t care. Just because we don’t show it like you do. Glee club used to be my home too.”

Rachel swallowed. “Until it made you lonelier.”

A watery smile, and a shrug. “Yeah.”

“Will you tell me about that?”

Quinn took one step closer towards Rachel and pressed her body against hers so that she had Rachel pinned against the wall. She cupped Rachel’s cheek and wiped her tear tracks with her thumb. It made Rachel grip Quinn’s shirt—a red and blue plaid button-down with another obscure band shirt underneath—to keep her close. “Not tonight. I’ve had enough of hurting your feelings.”

“I can take it, you know.”

“I know you can, but I can’t.”

Rachel wondered if her approach towards Quinn needed to change.

Here was the truth of what she felt: Quinn’s words implied that—and Rachel hesitated to phrase her theories in this way—she had a crush, or liked Rachel. All the hanging silences in their banter are filled with possibility. How when Rachel asked why she dyed her hair pink and all she said was, wasn’t it Rachel’s favourite colour? But maybe she read into things too much...

Yet most of all, who asked to make out with someone they did not like?

The probability of Rachel’s hypothesis was slim but not zero. What did she know about Quinn’s inner world and feelings? She was as difficult to read as Finn’s hand-scribbled notes, but prettier, lovelier to look at, that Rachel would face the struggle of understanding her head on. The problem now was—would she find the courage to present to Quinn her thoughts, and have the girl address it with her? The best way she could do it was if Quinn had no means of running away, and Rachel figured it out. She hoped.

Rachel pounced on Quinn when she was at her locker. “Quinn, may I invite you to my house this afternoon?”

Quinn had re-dyed her hair so the inch of her roots were pink once more. She kept her hair trimmed, her nape exposed for all the world to see. She closed her locker door and smiled at Rachel—which she won’t deny had her heart racing. “Sure, you may.”

“Great! I’ll meet you here.”

Quinn nodded and grasped Rachel’s hand. Made as if to kiss her judging from the way she took a step closer, her eyes bearing a soft look. Rachel bit her lip. “It’s too public,” she whispered.

“Oh, so if the halls were empty right now you’d let me kiss you?”

“I would be more untroubled to consent if it were.”

“Good to know,” Quinn said before she turned around to walk away. Rachel watched her go, that same swagger still so attractive in her estimation. She shook her head to clear it. She really must figure out her feelings—everything was too confusing to put into words.

She spun on her heel and nearly collided against Finn who grabbed her by the elbows so she would be knocked over.

“Finn! Were you trying to sneak up on me?”

“Nah, but you looked distracted,” he said as he fell into step beside her. “I feel like we haven’t seen each other in so long.”

“Because glee club is on an unofficial break?” Rachel wondered.

“Maybe. So I was kinda thinking... Can I come over tonight? Please?” Finn grasped Rachel’s wrist to make her look at him, at the pleading, dogged expression on his face. “I miss you,” he said in a low voice.

It was easy to know what Finn expected from her, especially since she had known him with intimacy for nearly two years now. It did not make it any easier to turn him down, however.

“I’m sorry. Quinn and I are meeting at my house. For our group project.”

The closer to the truth the omission was, the easier to remember, because she wasn’t lying, not really. It did not change the fact that Finn was not happy about being snubbed though.

“How’s that going, by the way? Is the endgame plan to be like Quinn’s friend until she’s back in glee club?”

Rachel frowned. “Quinn is my friend. There is no pretending on my part.”

“Whoa, okay. It’s just you never showed that you feel that way about her. Is she coming over to your house?”

Rachel could not explain why but she grew irritable with every question and every comment Finn uttered about Quinn. Rachel forced her shoulders to relax and said, “yes, I invited her over.”

“Be careful, okay? You can text me and I'll come in and save you.”

“Why should I be careful? And save me from what, exactly?”

“Well, you know,” Finn rubbed the back of his head. “She might try something on you, something that might end up hurting you. Like, she might just be acting like she’s your friend and when your guard is down, she’s going to insult you. Something like that.”

“I don’t think Quinn is that kind of person anymore.”

“Maybe, but I’m just saying.”

She wanted to roll her eyes but did not. “Okay. I will.”

Finn seemed satisfied. “Okay. I’m only a text away.”

Rachel thanked him even though her heart was not in it. They parted ways, Rachel counting down the minutes until the end of the school day.

Truth be told the time came so quickly that Rachel blinked and soon found herself by Quinn’s locker, waiting for her to show. In the meantime, she attempted to concretely lay down her strategy. She took out the pocket notebook she kept for lists, song ideas, and other miscellaneous thoughts and leafed through a blank page and began to write.

Rachel blinked and looked up. Did she have a crush on Quinn?

She flipped to a different page of her notebook and wrote furiously, messily.

Rachel jabbed her pen so hard into the paper to draw the period that the ink began to bleed through the pages. Why did she doubt the statement all of a sudden? It was still true, wasn’t it?

A shadow eclipsed in front of her and a warm breath puffed against her cheek, followed by the scent of pine. 

“Hey,” Quinn said.

Rachel jumped and clasped her notebook to her chest. “Quinn! Hi!”

“What were you writing? I think I saw my name in there.”

“Nothing!” Rachel crammed her notebook into the garter of her thigh-high socks, hiking her skirt up a little as she did so. When she looked up at Quinn, she was frozen still, her gaze locked upon where her notebook was stored. “Quinn?”

“Hm?”

“My eyes are up here.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped up and she cleared her throat. “Sorry I’m late. I had to deal with a wrong grade on a quiz.”

“It’s okay. You’ve been apologising a lot lately,” Rachel observed.

“I’m trying to imbed it into my vocabulary.”

They fell into step beside each other and spoke about school, their classes, how their day went. Quinn opened the passenger’s side of her car for Rachel to get in. When Quinn turned the car on, she turned the volume of the stereo all the way down before ultimately turning off the radio altogether. Rachel caught a glimpse of the song’s title as well as the artist before the screen shut down.

“You don’t want to listen to music while you drive?”

“I can listen any other time. In case you have something to say.”

“You’re sweet,” Rachel said, smiling.

Quinn glanced at her from the corner of her eye, a small smile formed on her lips as well. “So, what were you writing before I interrupted you?”

“Only a list.”

“A to-do list?”

“Of sorts.”

“Then how come my name’s on it?”

Rachel answered before she could so much as think critically about her response, its potential repercussions. “Why do you think?”

Quinn laughed and it was a lovely sound. “Hard to tell though. It could be some kind of hit list.”

“It is, in a way,” Rachel said. “But only your name is on the list, so if you can figure that one out...”

Quinn smirked and said nothing. Pulled into Rachel’s driveway and got out to stretch, while Rachel grabbed her bag and walked ahead to unlock the front door. Quinn followed her inside.

“Would you like something to eat?” Rachel asked, peering into the fridge. “I usually have some yogurt or granola for my after-school snack—”

Hands rested on her hip and a warm press of a body against her back. “Bring it upstairs. I waited long enough.”

Rachel shivered and grabbed a whole pack of yogurt, the canister of her dad’s homemade granola, and two spoons. She took Quinn’s hand and the pink-haired girl laced their fingers together as they ran up the stairs and slammed Rachel’s bedroom door shut behind them. Rachel tossed the food on her writing desk and began to squirm out of her sweater. Quinn came up behind her with a soft laugh and helped her out of it, until Rachel stood before her, still wearing her plaid skirt, her stockings, and a thin white undershirt.

She turned around and put her hand on Quinn’s shoulders who wore an open black and yellow plaid shirt this time, with a black tank top underneath, tucked into her usual ripped black jeans. The singer pushed Quinn’s shirt off her shoulders and let her fingertips trail the toned muscles of Quinn’s upper arms. Rachel focused on staring at the column of Quinn’s neck, because if she looked her in the eyes—the eyes that she knew were watching her every move—she might just lose herself in it.

But Quinn did not give her the choice for too long. Not when she tipped Rachel’s face towards her. Met with hazel green eyes, Rachel found her throat to be dry. She licked her dry lips.

“It’s hot in here,” said Rachel.

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed.

The atmosphere in the room was different now. It was more loaded somehow, it rippled through her skin in a different way. They had yet to touch lips, but Rachel swore she could feel the thrum of the universe condensed in this bedroom in Ohio. She watched Quinn, and it was then that she realised that Quinn wanted her to make the first move in a more definite way. Not a simultaneous forging of intent, even though they were both known to meet each other halfway. Rachel could read it in Quinn’s eyes, the heat and hunger there, that Rachel must be the one to lean in.

Well, Rachel thought, I’ll do you one better.

She tugged Quinn closer until their bodies were flush and pressed together. This was easier, no need to raise herself on her toes. Much easier to curl her fingers against Quinn’s nape. Easier to kiss her, to part her mouth for her, to taste the faded mint in Quinn’s tongue. Why was it so easy, when they did not have the years of rehearsals? There was no script for this either, for kissing your once-enemy, no manual for finding your once-enemy to be so beautiful it left you dizzy.

“You—” Rachel’s voice was low. She cleared her throat. “You don’t smoke anymore?”

“I stopped. I know how much you hated it.”

Rachel blinked. “Did I tell you that?”

Quinn chuckled. “No. It was obvious though.”

“Even I didn’t realise it,” she murmured. “I didn’t think you—”

She paused, bit her lip. Quinn swayed their clasped hands. “Didn’t think what?”

“That you care about me,” Rachel said with a bashful smile.

Quinn raised her brow. “Is that so shocking to you?”

“No, no!” Rachel giggled and rested her forehead against Quinn’s shoulders. “It’s nice. I feel so...” Quinn waited and Rachel had no choice but to actually finish her sentence. “Liked.”

“Yeah?” Quinn smiled. “That’s good.”

Again with the innuendo. Though with the lens through which she chose to see Quinn (as someone who may or may not have romantic feelings for her—the thought alone made Rachel’s stomach churn), it was loud and clear enough. There was meaning and intent everywhere for those with eyes to see, and Rachel did.

Rachel kissed Quinn again and wrapped her arms around her neck. Her shirt had ridden up. Quinn held her by the waist, her warm hands on Rachel’s bare skin. Rachel parted her lips to suck Quinn’s upper lip, and the pink-haired girl licked Rachel’s bottom lip in response.

The thing about making out in her bedroom was that there was a dearth of positions that they could be in. It almost always ended up horizontal upon her bed, with someone on top, someone underneath. Rachel shimmied onto her bed and leaned back against her cushioned headboard. Looked expectantly at Quinn and patted her lap.

Quinn smiled and crawled in after Rachel. Straddled her thighs and held the headboard, arms framing Rachel’s head. “You’re so cute,” Quinn murmured.

“That is the most direct thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Yeah? This,” Quinn grazed her thumb against Rachel’s bottom lip, “isn’t direct enough for you?”

Rachel caught Quinn’s thumb between her lips and sucked it, eyes locked with Quinn. She drew it out, a line of spit connecting her tongue to Quinn’s digit. She had never seen the ex-cheerleader’s eyes so dark, her cheeks this tinged with pink. “Not direct enough,” Rachel insisted. “Since I still have to figure out on my own what you’re trying to say.”

Quinn’s palms caressed the length of Rachel’s arms, her shoulders, only to lay rest against the back of her neck. She undulated against Rachel, the heat of her body undeniable in its intensity. Frustrated by the security of Quinn’s tank top tucked into her pants, she grasped the fabric and yanked at it so it slipped from its confines. All this just so she could touch Quinn’s raw skin, her stomach from which all heat seemed to radiate. Rachel couldn’t believe anyone could be this smooth, soft, and silky. She touched Quinn’s skin like it was water and she was dying of thirst, felt the lines of her stretch marks so faint that had Rachel not known of Quinn’s past, she wouldn’t have known they were there.

Rachel lost herself in the sensation of Quinn’s skin that she got too greedy. Her hand slipped higher up Quinn’s shirt. Felt the first swell of her breasts. Rachel sucked in a breath just as Quinn’s fingers curled around her wrists to still her.

“Don’t bite off more than you can chew,” Quinn husked, her voice rough and deeper than Rachel had ever heard.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said.

“Don’t apologise. Just... watch out, okay?”

“To be equitable, you may touch up my shirt as well.”

Quinn smirked. “How nice of you. Let’s switch positions.”

She slipped off of Rachel to sit beside her, then patted her lap with a suggestive grin. Rachel’s face felt explosive with warmth, more so when she climbed on top of Quinn. She should have changed into her pyjamas because her skirt rode up her thighs obscenely.

But Quinn was considerate about it. When her hands wandered Rachel’s legs they did so over her clothes, until she reached the hem of Rachel’s inner shirt. She slipped along Rachel’s back, brushing the clasp of her bra. Her nails along Rachel’s spine raked around her rib cage, right beneath her breasts, to her belly. So entranced by the way Quinn touched her—so sweet and so gentle—Rachel found herself wanting more.

She kissed Quinn with the same avarice as she had touched her moments earlier. Her resolve melted like sugar on her tongue—like herself on Quinn’s tongue. She wove her fingers through rosy hair. Moans escaped her at the touch of a warm, wet tongue against the column of her neck, the jut of her collar bones.

“Quinn, Quinn—” Rachel panted as she grasped at Quinn's shirt, her arms. Quinn grasped her arms and guided them to wrap around her neck.

“I got you. What’s wrong?”

“I’m overwhelmed,” she said, her breath came out shallow.

“It’s okay. Let’s breathe together.”

Her eyes magnetised to Quinn’s. Matched the rise and fall of her shoulders until she wrested back the control from her racing heart. Quinn brushed a lock of hair back from Rachel’s face and kissed her forehead.

The sweet gesture hurt. Rachel pressed Quinn by the shoulders to keep her distance.

“I really don’t understand you,” Rachel said.

“Oh? What about me exactly?”

“You’re sweet. And kind. And attractive—almost unbearably so. Yet you choose to do... this,” Rachel gestured between them, the position they were currently in, their tousled state, “with me. You could have anyone.”

“Anyone but you.” Quinn said with a crooked smile.

Rachel’s throat flexed and she wished she brought up her water bottle upstairs with her. “I’m going to make statements and I want you to say true or false, okay? You don’t have to explain, at least not yet.”

She brushed Quinn’s dishevelled hair away from her pretty face, the pink-haired girl nodding her assent.

“You dyed your hair pink because it’s my favourite colour—true or false?”

Quinn bit her lip. “True.”

Rachel took a steadying breath. “You stopped smoking because you noticed I don’t like it—true or false.”

“True.”

“You left glee club because of me.”

“Not just—”

Rachel shot her a look and Quinn fell quiet. “Just a true or false answer. The closest to the truth.”

Quinn leaned back against the headboard. “True.”

“Glee club made you feel lonely—lonelier?”

Quinn sighed. “True.”

“...because of me?”

“...true.”

Rachel hid her face behind her hands, her brain rushing a mile a minute. “Quinn, do you have feelings for me?”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “True.”

Rachel frowned. “Romantic feelings.”

Quinn looked at her head on and answered in such a way that answered the questions Rachel had spent most of her high school life trying to solve. In the soft breath of the word, Rachel saw Quinn with clarity she had never believed possible.

“True.”

“Since when?”

Quinn’s brow twitched. “That cannot be answered with true or false.”

“Then I relinquish you from having to respond in only true or false. What are you, some kind of fey?”

Quinn burst into giggles. Her hands had cooled significantly as they rested upon Rachel’s waist. “It’s hard to say when I started liking you. Some would argue since sophomore year.”

“When did you realise it?”

“Mm... I don’t know the answer to that either.”

It dawned on Rachel that she was still straddling Quinn, was still sitting on her lap. To be having a conversation like this one in this position must be strange, but Quinn did not look uncomfortable, nor worried that Rachel was, either. They were so relaxed with each other, and no wonder—they have kissed so much in the past hour.

The next words that came out of Rachel’s mouth were as unexpected to her as it was for Quinn.

“I think I need to break up with Finn.”

The pink-haired girl stared at her in alarm. “What?”

“I’ve been cruel and unkind to him. I found that I had no patience while he talks to me. Couldn’t even get myself to be happy enough to offer up a sincere smile to him lately.” Rachel slumped forward, arms draped over Quinn’s body, her face tucked against her sweet-smelling neck. “And don’t get me started about your involvement in all of this.”

Rachel made her tone to be light but Quinn’s expression was anything but.

“Why does it sound like you’re taking this too easily?” Quinn asked. “You who probably at one point wanted to be buried in the same plot as Finn when you’re both dead. Or expect him to jump into your open grave while you’re being lowered.”

“It’s true, I did expect that of him. But wait—you assumed I would die first?”

“You’re missing my point,” Quinn said with a frown. “How can you easily decide to break up with someone when they haven’t done anything wrong?”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong. But I have.”

“Yeah, but... I wouldn’t tell him about us so you can rest easy. You can keep on being with him like you always wanted.”

There was an undisguised bitterness in Quinn’s voice that Rachel felt like she had no choice. She cupped either sides of Quinn’s neck, forced her to meet her eyes. The hurt there was palpable, and so too were the frustration and fear, though Rachel wondered how much of those observations were a projection or an imagined emotion.

“That used to be my fear—that you wanted to do all of this just to have blackmail material against me just so you can have Finn back.”

Quinn scoffed. “Are you serious? Can you imagine me going up to Finn and saying, Rachel was cheating on you—she made out with me. Wouldn’t you think he’d get mad at me for that before he can even so much as think about being with me. Plus,” Quinn sighed, “I don’t like him anymore.”

“I figured, okay?” Rachel said testily. “My first thoughts aren’t always the most logical.”

“Tell me about it.”

Rachel huffed. “My hands are so close to your neck. I can choke you if I wanted.”

It had the opposite intended effect. She wanted to playfully threaten Quinn, have her be serious for once, but instead, Quinn’s eyes sparkled, seemingly amused—and happy?—at Rachel’s intimidation.

“You promise?” Quinn murmured.

“I didn’t realise you were so kinky.”

She rolled her eyes in response. “You would be surprised at what else you don’t know about me.”

Rachel rested her hands on Quinn’s shoulders. “Yeah? Tell me something.”

“You’re distracted from the topic at hand. Why would you want to break up with Finn?”

“Because—I don’t feel things for him the way I feel for you.”

“Give him another chance, then. I’m sure he can sing his way back into your heart or whatever.”

Rachel frowned. “Why don’t you want me to break up with him?”

“Because!” Quinn shouted, and her voice bounced against the soundproofed walls of Rachel’s bedroom. “Because you’re being too reckless. Who gives in so easily when someone who is not their boyfriend asks to make out with her?”

“Were you testing me?”

“No! I was—” Quinn sighed. “I was being selfish.”

“Then how come I can’t be selfish too?”

“You’re so frustrating,” Quinn snapped. “If I hear that you broke up with Finn I’m not going back to glee club.”

Rachel gawked at Quinn. “You are the most annoying, most insufferable, most selfish, most cruel—”

“Keep going, Rachel. You’re turning me on.”

Hard to tell if Quinn was being sarcastic or too honest. Rachel stared at her, mouth agape. “Why do you, all of a sudden, want me and Finn to stay together? If it is true that you have romantic feelings for me, should it not make you happy that I’d then be single, so that—”

“So that what?” Quinn interrupted.

“So that we could be together!”

“I don’t want to be with you.” Quinn said.

Her tone was deadpan. If it weren’t for her eyes—eyes that glistened wetly, hopeful eyes, eyes that softened as Rachel smoothed her knuckles against her cheek.

“You don’t want to be with me?” Rachel mocked Quinn, rocking her hips into the girl, burying her fingers in her pink hair to grip it, to force her to tilt her head back. She drank from Quinn’s parted lips. Chomped on her mouth, sucked her tongue. Forced her own into Quinn’s mouth. Licked the edged of her teeth, felt the girl shudder beneath her, her hold on Rachel’s thighs tight, desperate. “Then how come you wanted to make out with me so badly?”

“I didn’t want it badly,” Quinn mumbled lamely.

“You just let anyone push their tongue in your mouth then? You just let anyone sit on your lap? Admit it. You want me.”

With Quinn, Rachel was so pushy, so demanding. Her admission, her incommensurate desire to have Quinn and for Quinn to have her in return, blossomed inside her like a forest fire. She kissed Quinn once more, drank her moans and pushed herself into her. Even guided Quinn’s hands up her skirt to feel the unbearable heat of her thighs.

Rachel exposed the pale column of Quinn’s neck and bit down before sucking the patch of skin beneath her teeth.

Quinn snapped backwards with a gasp. “You need to calm down.”

“Shut up,” Rachel snarled. Her blood thrummed, rapid and hot in her veins. She moved off Quinn’s lap to kneel at the foot of the bed. She grasped Quinn by the ankles and tugged. With a yelp, she skidded down the length of the bed to lay supine. Rachel did not give her enough time to react further as she straddled her once more. Rachel grasped Quinn’s wrists and pinned them against the pillow. Her hair curtained around their heads.

“I don’t want to ruin your relationship,” Quinn said, breathless.

“A little to late for that, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, be honest,” Rachel said, flattening herself against Quinn’s body. Her ear rested against Quinn’s chest, heard the rush and throb of her pulse.

“We can’t keep doing this. I—” Quinn trembled underneath Rachel. The singer did not have to look up to know that Quinn was on the brink of tears, or perhaps past it. “I’ll come back to glee club. We don’t have to keep making out. Okay?”

Rachel sat up, shocked. “Quinn—”

“Please get off of me.”

Her voice was low, timid. Rachel scrambled to move off of Quinn. Watched the pink-haired girl sit up and attempt to hide the gesture of wiping her face free of tears. She cleared her throat and with a thick, husky voice, said, “thanks for hanging out. I have to go. No need to see me to the door.”

Rachel reached out but Quinn moved out of reach. She watched Quinn gather herself and without so much as a kiss goodbye, she left Rachel’s bedroom. She sat there, on her bed, her heart hammering a persistent rhythm against her ribs, her ears rushing with blood. She heard the door slam, the engine of Quinn’s car, and the way it receded as she drove away. In the silence of her bedroom, her mind was an awful, clamorous mess.

On her bed, the thrum of her pulse, the atoms of her body yearned for Quinn. Heat suffused her skin, every inch of her wanting to touch the girl again. To feel her hot breath mingling against hers. Rachel closed her eyes and took breaths that steadied her. She shifted her legs and felt just how aroused she was.

She worried that she pushed Quinn too harshly. The boundary that was fuzzy from the beginning, was crossed, and on top of everything else—the rejection, the hurt she caused, she felt awful. She wanted go sprinting out of the house to cry after Quinn and apologise. Yet she wanted space to figure out the reality of her feelings. Was Quinn right when she said Rachel took the idea of breaking up with Finn too lightly? Did the idea only enter her mind because of her... activities with Quinn?

All these questions coursed through her mind, but in her heart, there was no seed of doubt.

For in reality, Rachel already knew the next course of action for her to take. She hesitated, because she wondered if it was fair to keep leading Finn on when she had already disengaged from their relationship.

Quinn made good on her promise and on the day the glee club usually met, she wrangled the rest of their club members into the choir room, excluding the Troubletones, to speak to them. Rachel wasn’t there for the conversation, but most of them, and Finn as well, were sitting in the room when Rachel peeked inside to see if anyone was present. Quinn stood by the piano, her arms crossed. Happened to glance back when Rachel walked in.

“There you are. I thought I had to come find you,” Quinn said.

“No need, because I’m right here,” Rachel said, her eyes on Quinn.

“We just need to get Mr. Schue to come back.”

“Even if we get enough time to prepare something for Sectionals, we still won’t qualify. We don’t have enough members.”

“I’m working on that,” Quinn said.

“Ugh, I could kiss you.”

“Well, don’t.”

Finn watched them. “It’s nice to see that you two get along well now.”

Rachel only smiled in response before turning to Quinn again. “Do you need help finding new members?”

“I need you to convince Mr. Schue to let Troubletones merge with New Directions,” Quinn said. Rachel opened her mouth to say something but Quinn covered her mouth with her hand. “Don’t argue. Why bother getting new people into glee club when there are people you know who already love it? It’s only the politics of this club that keeps messing us up. Without it, we would be unstoppable, you know.”

“Yes, but...” Rachel sighed. “Okay. I accept this.”

“Whoa, that seemed quick,” Kurt said. “You’re more receptive if it’s Quinn giving you solutions, it seems.”

“Because they make sense,” Rachel snapped. “Your solution was to keep doing recruitment drives even after we got food thrown at us.”

“It was supposed to draw in new people—people we don’t have trauma with,” Kurt said. “If Santana comes back here, she’s going to act like she owns the place and she’s going to insist she sings the solos.”

“That won’t happen,” Quinn said.

“How do you know, when you’ve been elsewhere? Why does Rachel trust you? Why do we trust her? Her instincts in running this club are not the best—you have to admit.”

“Yeah? Then I want to see you do it,” Quinn said with a mocking smirk. “Why don’t you and Blaine try to deal with what Rachel has been handling for years behind your backs? You wouldn’t last a day.”

“Quinn,” Rachel said, touching her arm.

Quinn shot a final look at an appropriately intimidated Kurt, his boyfriend beside him seemed daunted as well. “I told Santana that you’ll be more equitable with the solos. I don’t know if she believes me, but you’ll show her you can be. Right?”

“Yes. If I must.”

“What is happening?” Kurt asked. “Since when were you two so close? Not just getting along like Finn said. It’s crazy.”

“I don’t have to explain my relationship with Rachel to anyone.”

“So you admit that there is a relationship?” Kurt wheedled.

“Yes, of course. The same way there can be a relationship with my fist and your face.”

“Quinn,” Rachel said, exasperated and amused.

“Fine,” Quinn huffed. To the spectators of the glee club, she said, “Rachel and I are going to talk to the people we need to talk to. Can you guys prepare a song to welcome them back? Finn?”

“Yeah, you can count on me.”

Quinn and Rachel left the choir room together. In the emptiness of the hallway, Rachel was beset with a memory and a desire. Once they were ten feet away from the room, she grabbed Quinn by the arm. Spun her around so her back hit a wall of lockers—strong enough to create a sound but not enough to hurt, she hoped. Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn’s neck and kissed her.

“Rachel,” Quinn sighed. Her hand rested on Rachel’s hips, the puzzle pieces of their bodies fitting in its easy, habitual way.

“Thank you for defending me. It was so sweet.”

“Rachel,” Quinn said again, more insistent, more breathless, while Rachel scattered kisses all over her cheeks, her jaw. She could have easily pushed Rachel off—the tiniest hint of pressure on her hip and Rachel would have stopped, yet there was nothing.

“Kiss me back,” Rachel said.

Rachel returned her mouth to Quinn, and she parted her lips in response. They kissed in the empty hallway—not a one sided kiss, but kisses that spoke of understanding, and want. Quinn squeezed Rachel’s waist and the singer took a step back. Their lips glistened with each other.

“I know I started it, but we can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep reminding me of what isn't mine.”

“I could be yours, but something keeps you from accepting that fact,” Rachel said.

“Can’t you see how much Finn cares for you?”

“I understand. I won’t kiss you again until things are over between myself and Finn.”

“That’s not my point,” Quinn said in frustration. “You can’t break up with him.”

“And why not? It’s my life—”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Quinn snapped. “Let’s just talk to who we need to talk to, and I’ll meet you back at the choir room.”

Quinn walked ahead and forcibly made distance between herself and Rachel all while she watched the pink hair recede farther and farther away from her. It was not Quinn’s abandonment that hurt but rather the way she truly believed that Rachel could not possibly feel the same for her. The fear was written in her eyes, pristine and unblemished.

It ended up that the glee club—New Directions and Troubletones—reunited under the banner of McKinley’s glee club just in time for Sectionals, and Rachel begrudgingly admitted that Finn chose the perfect song to welcome Santana and the others back into the fold. We are young, indeed.

With the renewed vigour of the club’s activities came the fact that Rachel saw Quinn more often now, but under very different circumstances. Sure, they saw each other in class and it did not always mean that Rachel’s tongue wound in Quinn’s mouth, but the proximity of having to figure out choreography for their song choices, and the very fact of Rachel wanting Quinn, threatened to get in the way of their so-called friendship.

And everyone loved commenting on it. Santana quipped that she had seen this coming, that it was inevitable that Quinn would be whipped, would wind up doing Rachel’s bidding. Mercedes was shocked, but said it was nice. One less rival for her to worry about, to which Quinn only rolled her eyes to say she was not interested in their petty rivalries. Kurt was more apprehensive given Quinn’s prior hostility, despite Rachel’s assurance that she was just being protective.

“That was the thing that surprised me the most,” Kurt had said eyeing Rachel with a curious furrow in his brow, “that there is something for her to be protective over.”

Sectionals had come and was won, and then it was December. It had been five weeks since Rachel last kissed Quinn in the hallway. She remained with Finn, romantically entangled with him, kissing him, singing duets with him, and acting like his loving girlfriend. Rachel felt the heat of someone’s focus burning her skin each time she performed a public gesture of affection towards her boyfriend, who readily accepted said affection because this was his lot in life, his Rachel-given right.

She remained with Finn not because she heeded Quinn’s rude, unsolicited advice. In fact, Rachel knew it was cowardice that made her stay. She already knew the different directions they would travel in their life—an actuality that took her a long time to accept. It only took a certain level of closeness with Quinn for Rachel to accept her words back when they were trying to write original songs.

Days passed in a blur. At one point they were roped into helping Mr. Schue propose to Miss Pillsbury in a pool. Quinn looked lovely in the red and white stripe of the swimsuits, her hair in a slick pink ponytail. Rachel wanted to dog paddle over to her and kiss her right then and there all while everyone was distracted by Miss Pillsbury saying yes to Mr. Schue’s proposal.

Now they don’t do much during glee club, only whatever Mr. Schue felt would be a good topic for the week. Rachel still performed ardently, letting her friends assume for whom she dedicated her songs though sometimes her eyes would drift over to someone else. She could not help how eye-catching Quinn was. They did not hang out with each other as much since Quinn had her friends back by way of Santana.

Rachel walked down the hallway on her way to her locker. She caught a glimpse of two familiar figures—Finn and Quinn stood by Quinn’s locker discussing something in low, heated voices. Rachel skidded in her shoes and froze. Stalked behind them to hopefully hear a bit of what they discussed.

“You asked for my opinion and I told you. Do not do it, Finn!”

“Look, I only asked you to be sure, since you and Rachel are super close friends now. I’m still going to do it. And you better not tell her what I’m planning. If she finds out I’ll know it’s your fault.”

“I’m not telling her a damn thing,” Quinn hissed. “You’re making a big mistake.”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Finn responded with a smug grin. “We love each other, okay? You wouldn’t know anything about love if it bit your nose off.”

Quinn stopped walking and Finn went on ahead, a new pep in his step. Quinn only sighed and returned her attention to her locker where she retrieved a binder. Her hair had grown longer and she tied it back in a cute half-ponytail that covered halfway down the nape of her neck. She closed her locker door and saw Rachel standing beside her locker, back against the wall.

“What were you and Finn talking about?” Rachel asked.

“Nothing worth bringing up again,” Quinn grumbled. “Are you going home?”

“With Finn, when I find him.”

Quinn grasped Rachel’s wrist. Her gaze hot and intense. Rachel shivered and missed the sensation that was once so familiar to her, now amplified from its lack. “Come over to my house.”

“Okay,” Rachel said, breathless.

“We’re not doing that again,” Quinn warned. “When you tell Finn you’re not going home with him, don’t tell him you’re coming with me. I’ll meet you in the celibacy club room.”

“Somehow all this subterfuge seems worse, and we used to make out with each other behind his back,” Rachel said. “But, sure.”

They went their separate ways. Rachel found Finn with Mike and Sam discussing video games. She came up behind him and tugged at his shirt. “Finn, I won’t be going home with you tonight. A group project came up for my AP Biology class.”

“What?” He looked stricken and alarmed. He looked around with a panicked look. “Who’s in your group? Not Quinn though, right?”

Rachel raised her brow. “I don’t think she’s in AP Bio?”

“She’s in my AP Bio class,” Mike said. “I didn’t know there’s group projects in your section. That must suck.”

“It’s not so bad. Sometimes I get reliable group members.” Rachel rose on her tiptoes because try as she might, Finn still won’t stoop down unless she asked him to do so. She kissed his cheek and bade farewell to the two other boys. She walked away, fought against the massive urge to start prancing in the middle of the hallway. She grabbed her backpack from her locker and went to the science classroom.

Quinn was already there when Rachel arrived. “Let’s go,” the pink haired girl said.

“Why am I coming over?” Rachel asked. “Does this have something to do with what you and Finn were talking about, all hushed and secretive?”

“How much did you hear?”

“Only the tail end of it. Of you not wanting him to do something.”

As soon as they were in Quinn’s car, she performed no preamble and drove away from the school as fast as legally possible. “He is going to ask you to marry him. He showed me the ring.”

Rachel blinked and laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I know,” Quinn said, glancing at her sideways. “That’s what I told him. He’s taking cues from Mr. Schue, like a boy who grew up without a father and latched on to the closest father figure he could find. Not realising that the role model is not that good to begin with.”

“He’s also going through some family stuff,” Rachel said. “He found out his mom lied to him about his dad being a war hero. Turns out he was an addict and died from an overdose in Cincinnati.”

Quinn let out a sigh and shook her head. “That’s rough.”

“It’s also why he said he wanted to enlist in the military.”

“Oh Jesus,” Quinn groaned and parked in her driveway. In silence they entered the empty house and went straight into Quinn’s bedroom. Rachel crawled on to her bed and sat at the centre, her back to the headboard, while she watched Quinn put her bag down on the floor, eventually sinking into her desk chair. Rachel pouted.

“I was hoping you could come and sit with me,” Rachel said, smoothing her hands along Quinn’s lilac-scented duvet.

“That’s dangerous and you know it.”

“Dangerous? Little old me?” Rachel batted her eyelashes and Quinn giggled. “Please. I promise I won’t try anything. I missed you.”

The softening of her eyes caused Rachel’s heart to squeeze tenderly in her chest. Quinn shed her flannel overshirt which left her in a black shirt that called for the support of the public library. She wore baggy black pants with a multitude of pockets. She undid her belt buckle and unbuttoned her pants, all in front of Rachel, and the singer pretty much gawked.

Quinn, her strong, creamy thighs exposed, soon hid her legs from view by wearing grey sweatpants.

“Boo,” Rachel complained.

“What? I can’t be wearing my school clothes on my bed.”

“Oh. Should I take my clothes off?” Rachel asked, midway to pulling her shirt over her abdomen.

“No,” Quinn said through a tense jaw. She sat in the bed's centre across from Rachel, her legs crossed. “It’s a little too late for that.”

“Why did you invite me here, Quinn?”

“Because I need to know if you’d say yes to Finn’s proposal.”

“I thought that was what you wanted? You who did not want me to break up with Finn?” Rachel said with a frown. “If I break up with him now, the timing is going to be nothing but horrible.”

“I know. It was my mistake. But you didn’t seem to mind with all the songs you’ve been dedicating to him. And all that PDA, ugh, god, it was disgusting.”

“Because the entire time, I was imagining it was with you,” Rachel snapped. “How dare you say all of that about my feelings? I wanted to sing those songs for you, to have you to kiss in public while everyone looked on in disgust but I won’t care because you love me and I love you and nothing else in the world matters. Quinn,” Rachel sighed, tears falling down her cheeks. “Do you have any idea how difficult the last few weeks have been?”

“Yes,” Quinn said, her voice rough and broken. “I know. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do.”

“Then why do it? Life is already hard enough.”

“Yeah,” Quinn smiled and dragged her butt closer to Rachel so she could cup her face and wipe her tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Rachel sobbed, hands closed around fistfuls of Quinn’s shirt to keep her close. “Be with me.”

“I can’t,” Quinn’s voice, insistent and steeped in despair further shattered the ache in Rachel’s ribs. Quinn gripped Rachel’s wrists in an attempt to ease her tight grip on her shirt. “I really am sorry.”

“You must tell me why,” Rachel demanded, her voice thick and syrupy with sadness. “And it better be a damn good reason, Fabray.”

Sad they may be but Quinn could not resist a playful smile. “I love it when you’re strict.”

“Quinn,” Rachel whined.

“Okay, okay. I don’t mean to make light of your feelings. My reasons are explicitly because of me, not you at all. You’re perfect, you know that. But me... Well,” she shrugged, helpless and despondent now, avoiding Rachel’s gaze at all cost.

“I’m scared because I want this,” Quinn whispered. “I want it so much that if it doesn’t work out, where would it leave me? What would I do to nurse the worst heartbreak of my life?”

Rachel blinked, the tears that had pooled against her eyes dripped down her cheek. “So instead, you just give up?”

“It’s been pretty darn effective so far.”

“You call this effective?” Rachel screeched, grabbing a pillow off Quinn’s bed and smacking her squarely against the face with it. “You call me sobbing into your shirt, asking to be loved back, effective?”

Quinn grabbed the pillow and moved it from Rachel’s grasp, since the singer was winding her arm back to hit her with the pillow once more. “It’s a small price to pay. Can you imagine that we end up being so happy only to end up having to break up? It would kill me.”

“So? Let it. Then at least you felt joy.”

“But—” Quinn met Rachel’s eyes now. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me now by refusing to try to be with me,” Rachel said in exasperation.

“At least it’s a pain you can take.”

“Listen,” Rachel lunged forward and shoved Quinn down into the bed, straddled her, kept her arms pinned above her head. She leaned in close until their noses brushed and their heavy breaths mingled. “You don’t get to decide what pain I can or cannot take. I would sooner have the joy of being with you than live without it, even if it ends in heartbreak.”

“You can’t know the future,” Quinn insisted.

“Neither can you,” Rachel said.

“I know enough. I know how things go. That if you want something so much, you can only lose them. It’s what Fate demands.”

Rachel eased up on pinning Quinn down and sat up, still straddling her. “What’s the last thing to make you feel this way?”

Quinn’s jaw tensed and she looked away. “Beth. Almost winning Nationals. I don’t know.”

“Oh Quinn.” Rachel breathed, caressing the pink locks of hair that covered the girl’s features. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” Quinn said, her voice rough. “Thanks.”

“But this is different. We are two people working at a relationship, not just you trying to raise a daughter potentially on your own. And Nationals... For that I apologise.”

“But the love was there. Could that not have been enough?”

“I don’t know. I can only speak to our current circumstance. The happiness would be worth it. I definitely would not let you regret it.”

Quinn sighed, her palms hot on Rachel’s thighs. “But what if someone comes into your life the way I did when you were with Finn?”

“Pardon me, but I don’t think others would be knocking on my door, making deals to make out with me. That’s a Quinn thing.”

“Hey! You don’t know your appeal.”

“Oh? What is it then?”

“You’re fishing for compliments but where’s the bait?”

“I’ll give you bait,” Rachel purred, her fingers trailing along Quinn’s exposed collarbones. She shivered at the touch as Rachel kissed her cheek, a hot trail of open-mouthed kisses until she reached her earlobe. She kissed Quinn’s ear and gave it a gentle bite. At the barest pressure from Quinn to push Rachel away, however, she stopped and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Okay, okay,” Quinn panted, her fingertips digging into the flesh of Rachel’s legs. “This is your appeal. Seductive. A little pushy, but you always know to stop. You’re good at reading body language. It’s nice.”

“You can’t say that’s my appeal; only you know that about me.”

“I guess,” Quinn said.

Rachel eased off from straddling Quinn and nestled in beside her like a puzzle piece. Her cheek rested on Quinn’s chest, her arm around Rachel’s shoulders. They lay there and said nothing, just breathing in the quiet, the calm they found in each other, the perfect counterfoil to the riled up, heated emotions of mere minutes ago. Rachel rested her hand upon Quinn’s warm abdomen, felt the rise and fall of her breathing.

“You don’t have to answer me just yet, you know,” Rachel murmured, her gaze falling on the silhouette of Rachel’s features. “You can take as long as you’d like.”

Quinn smiled. “As I said, a little pushy but knows when to stop.”

“You know it.”

They lay there for a little while longer, but Rachel knew, and so did Quinn, that all good things must end—for now. She got up from her spot beside Quinn, arm keeping her propped up. Saw the way Quinn looked at her and she felt the urge swell inside her, sure as her feelings for Quinn. She lowered her mouth to hers in the softest of kisses.

“I’ll drive you home,” Quinn murmured against Rachel’s lips.

“Okay. Thank you.”

Rachel did not wait long after her lengthy conversation with Quinn to approach Finn with the reality of her feelings. She continuously chanted to herself that she was capable of honesty, of hard conversations, of admitting that she had been in the wrong. She wondered where she should do it—to do it at Finn’s house was dangerous as she would have no means of getting home without his aid. She thought about doing it in the choir room but it might be impossible for him to associate glee club with positive memories at this point because two people had hurt him in that club as it stood. To add Rachel in the list must surely be asking for trouble.

The hallways were an option, but she’d hate to cause a scene.

So she wrote Finn a note that she slipped into the slats of his locker. Asked him to meet her in the science room. She arrived there first and was in the midst of inspecting Bertina the skeleton’s bones when she heard Finn enter the classroom.

“Rachel? What’s up?”

She knew how tense she might look to him. Despite the way they drifted apart, he still knew her in his own way. He dumped his bag on the floor and approached her. Engulfed her in a hug that once felt safe but now felt suffocating. Rachel pried him off gently as she sucked in a deep breath.

“You rarely leave me locker notes nowadays,” Finn said, sheepish. “I got a little scared, not gonna lie. I think the last time was in sophomore year, back when we were only starting to hang out.”

“Why did you get scared?” She asked.

“Well, you know,” Finn rubbed the back of his head. “It feels a little serious getting a handwritten note. Like, why couldn’t you just ask to meet?”

Rachel took time to admire him. Not like he was dying or vanishing off the face of the earth but the time would come that she would no longer be able to caress his face, or mess up his hair. She did both things, and Finn flashed her his boyish half grin. She felt her heart in her throat but she knew she must do this.

Yet, a hint of doubt. What if Quinn never arrived at the same conclusion as she did?

Her heart leapt and she felt like choking on the air in her lungs. She loved Finn, it hurt to end things, but she could not choose to live her life by other people’s expectations and rules. She must be honest, but not cruel. Firm but not dismissive.

“Finn, I want to break up.”

The words were loud, clear, and sharp in her ears. Finn looked shell-shocked, confused. His face contorted into one of hurt so visceral that Rachel, for a brief moment, wished she could take back the words that had spilled out of her. But to declare it a mistake would be worse—unfair for Finn as well as Quinn.

“Wha—what? What are you saying?” His voice came out in a pitch Rachel normally did not hear of him and he took a brusque step away from her. His fists were clenched tight, his jaw twitched from tension. “What did I do?”

“Nothing—you did nothing wrong,” Rachel said. Fought to keep her voice even because when one of them devolved into hysterics, the other tended to match the energy put forth by the other. She dug her feet into her Mary Janes, felt the thinned section of the sole against her heel. Tried to keep awareness of her body so as to not be swept away by the current of emotions.

“Then why?”

“We haven’t been as close as we have been these past weeks,” Rachel said.

“We were busy! Sectionals took a lot out of us, because on top of it, people kept quitting and joining and forming other glee clubs that wasn’t just with ours. And you’ve been so preoccupied with all your... your group projects,” he paced the classroom as if it was a cage and he was an animal trapped within. “I know how much your grades mean to you so even though I wanted to ask you to skip out on some of them at least once, I didn’t.”

“It’s not only that,” Rachel argued. “I’ve just been thinking about the future.”

“Oh,” Finn slumped on a chair that squeaked beneath his weight. “I knew it. I knew it would end up like that someday, but I didn’t think it would be now. I thought we still have so much time left!”

Rachel, helpless, did not know if it would be appropriate for her, the one who caused all this anguish, to comfort Finn. He rested his elbows on his knees and gripped his skull in both hands, the very image of despair. “What if—what if I refuse?”

“You can’t,” Rachel said, frustrated now. “It’s over between us.”

“No,” Finn said. The very fact that he was not yelling chilled Rachel to the core. She wondered if her theory of emotional reflection actually applied in this scenario. “I don’t accept it.”

“Finn, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Then where’s the Rachel I know? The one who would never let true love pass her by? The one who fights for her relationships?”

Rachel swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut. It was unfair—she was being unfair because for all the things Finn said about her, all she could think about was those qualities she had, but in the context of Quinn. It was for Quinn that Rachel would never allow love to pass her by. She wanted nothing more than to reach out towards the pink-haired girl, and take the love she knew she deserved.

She felt all those things for Finn once. What happened then?

She did reach out, and she did partake. Only now, she was finished with it.

“I don’t want to be with you anymore,” Rachel said, unable to hold in the sob that crushed her chest with its pressure.

“There has to be someone else,” Finn voice cracked, tears down cascading down his cheeks, his chin trembling from the effort of keeping his dignity. His fists paled from how tight he held them. Dug into thighs that it left his pants warped and wrinkled. “You would never say these things to me if there wasn’t anyone else. Who is it?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It does. It does matter, so I can know where I can put my fist through. What’s his name, Rachel?”

The tightness in his voice, his posture, and everything about him screamed a rubber band pulled taut. He would, eventually snap or be let loose to hurtle across space and hit someone. Rachel rather it be not Quinn. “There is someone else but I won’t tell you who it is.”

“You cheated on me?” Finn barked, his eyes red. He did not bother to wipe his face, streaked with tears. “You let someone else fuck you before you let me fuck you?”

Rachel had always known that Finn would not take this breakup lying down, but the reality of it was more alarming than anything she had imagined. The way his shoulders heaved, the furious, hunted look in this eyes. His words, too, came as a shock to Rachel. Could not believe he would say something like that to her.

“I didn’t let anyone do anything to me, Finn,” she snapped, arms crossed over her chest.

“But you cheated on me.”

“I kissed someone else.”

“So you’re leaving me for that? For a shitty kiss? I can kiss too, you know.” He shot up from the chair and grabbed Rachel’s arms. He plastered his mouth over Rachel’s in a harsh, aggressive kiss. She wriggled away from him, or tried to, but the way he held her arms to her sides kept her from doing anything.

She squirmed, turned her head. “Finn—get off—”

He shoved his tongue between her lips. Rachel felt him sobbing, his body trembled against her. He stood frozen before her.

“You can’t leave me. I have nothing left. You’re the best thing about me,” Finn cried.

“You are your own person,” Rachel said, though her heart thrummed violently in her ribs. “You’re so much better than you think you are. You deserve more than what I can give you.”

“What if I’m willing to take what you can give?”

Rachel shook her head. “That’s not what’s best for you, Finn.”

“I don’t care what’s best for me—I want you.”

Rachel pried Finn off her as gently as she could so he wouldn’t snap back to attention. “I will still be your friend, if you want me.”

“I was going to ask you to marry me.”

There it was, the further catalyst of this breakup. Sure, there was Quinn to think about, but she also did not want to stay in Lima any more than she had to. Even if Quinn wasn’t in the picture, Rachel could not picture herself accepting this proposal from Finn.

“I don’t think I would have said yes,” she said gently.

“I should have known. Why would you have said yes? I’m a fucking loser.”

“You’re not. We’re just... different people now.”

Finn said nothing, his shoulders slumped, his eyes puffy and red. Rachel waited a beat but he said nothing more so all she did was give his shoulder a squeeze, whispered ‘I’m sorry’ before she walked around him and out of the classroom.

The fallout would be massive, there was no other possibility other than that.

Rachel was smart enough to not come running into Quinn’s arms the minute her relationship with Finn ended. She wanted to mourn too. For a few weeks Rachel stayed distant. She tanked the confused, angry looks from the faces of her club members—all of them save one.

“Great—we just finished the problems with the Troubletones and now there’s this new one altogether,” Kurt sighed, his arms crossed as he stared at Rachel. They were in Rachel’s bedroom and he was perched on Rachel’s desk chair. “What happened?”

“He was going to ask me to marry him. I cannot do that.”

Kurt’s jaw dropped. “Was he, now? How did you know?”

“He told me, when I broke up with him,” Rachel paced the space of her bedroom, her limbs restless.

“I thought you broke up with him because he asked you to marry him?”

Rachel shook her head. Told Kurt the rough timeline of events, of course omitting Quinn’s involvement in all of it. “I know I should have picked a better time—his life might seem in shambles right about now, what with all the things he recently found out about his dad.”

Kurt shook his head. “There is never a right time to break up, I think. It’s always going to hurt.”

“Yeah,” Rachel said, falling to sit on the edge of her bed.

“So,” Kurt trailed off, “is there someone else?”

“Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

“I grew to have feelings for someone else, but I’m not going to be with them immediately after. I want to have space for myself too.”

“But you want to be single for them? Wait—what’s with the pronouns?”

Rachel’s ears flushed. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you being purposefully vague about it?”

“I’m not—”

“Is it a girl? You like girls now?” Kurt demanded.

“So what if I do?” Rachel frowned.

“Since when?”

Rachel glared at Kurt. “I refuse to answer your questions because they sound hostile. So what if I like a girl? It’s nothing new to be bisexual.”

“Yes, but it’s—well—you. You love the fantasy of the leading man for you, and a girl cannot give you that.”

“Speak for yourself,” Rachel muttered.

Kurt rolled his eyes and rose from the chair. Brushed invisible dust from his coat and squeezed Rachel’s shoulders. “I can’t pick your side, unfortunately. Finn is my brother.”

“I know, but thanks for hearing me out.”

“When this potential relationship of yours happens... I hope it turns out the way you hope.”

“Thanks Kurt.”

The days of winter break neared. Tension ruled the glee club, because despite the aftermath of Finn and Rachel’s breakup, both leads still attended, neither of them backed down despite the awkwardness they put their friends through. Forced to sing together sometimes, it finally took a tense, almost hostile rendition of “Last Christmas” for their carolling drive that Mr. Schue finally decided to stop pairing them for duets for the time being.

Even the glee club Christmas party rippled with unease. Everyone separated in amorphous groups that could be separated into those who sided with Finn, and then there was everyone else. Rachel did not want to be martyred for anything, and she wasn’t blameless, so she shouldered the brunt of hostility. It would not last forever, because high school would not last forever.

“I told you this would happen,” Quinn said, handing Rachel a red solo cup filled with apple juice, as well as a slice of vegan chocolate cake. Rachel sat alone on a chair upon the rearmost section of the risers to watch the party unfold before her.

“Yes, but I don’t regret it.”

“No?” Quinn glanced at Finn who hadn’t changed his expression from a moping, glowering frown. “But you love him.”

“You don’t get to have a say in my decisions.”

“I’m not questioning them. I wanted to know why you did it.”

Rachel raised her brow. “You know.”

Quinn occupied the seat beside Rachel and drank from her cup. “Rachel, I...”

“I know, okay? I am aware of your fears. But I cannot say I understand, or even share them.”

For a moment, Quinn sat silent beside Rachel while they sipped their drinks and shared the cake between them. “I only hope that you don’t regret it. That a few months from now you wouldn’t feel that you made the decision in the heat of the moments between us. That you weren’t just carried away.”

“If I was just carried away, I would have just stayed with Finn. But I want you to know that I’m serious in my intent.”

Rachel watched Quinn look at her. Those hazel eyes that she had seen express so many emotions over the past few months—desire, playfulness, frustration, anger, and sorrow... yet Rachel never wanted Quinn to look away from her. Did not want to flinch from any emotions that she felt, especially if she, herself, was involved.

“I hear it,” Quinn said softly. “Loud and clear.”

The rest of the party happened without additional awkwardness. Rachel could only hope that the vacation would temper Finn’s anger and they would return to school in the new year with lighter hearts. While Rachel was at her locker, organising the textbooks she wanted to bring home for her studies, Quinn appeared beside her.

“I’m thinking of going back to blonde,” she said.

“Still keeping your hair short?” Rachel asked, reaching out to touch the faded pink locks, now looking like the skin of a pretty peach at the ends of Quinn’s hair. She tucked a lock of hair back behind Quinn’s ear, who smiled and leaned into the touch.

“Yeah, I like it short.”

“Me too.”

“Are you busy during the break?”

“Since being single, not at all. Why do you ask?”

Quinn bit her lip and took a step closer towards Rachel. “I wanted to know if I can come over to your house some day. To hang out.”

“Just hang out? You’re already in the glee club,” Rachel teased, but when Quinn looked like she was about to argue, she said, “I’d love to have you over.”

“Any day is good with me—my mom’s sister is visiting us for Christmas and I would prefer not to be around her much.”

“Okay, I’ll let you know. I’ll see you then.” Rachel glanced around the hallway to ensure that it was empty save for the two of them. She planted a kiss on Quinn’s cheek and hurried out into the threatening ice storm to head home, while the pink-haired girl stood there, watching after her, her fingers stroking the warmth of her cheek.

In the peace and quiet of her house, Rachel started to feel as if everything was now on the mend. No antagonistic looks had to be dealt with, no more defensive stances she needed to take. She could convince herself that everyone had moved on from the conflict she began. Even as her birthday passed over the weekend, spent with her dads, she did not feel terrible for once that she did not have enough friends to invite for a party.

Though when she stayed up until midnight to catch the eve of her birthday, she received a text just as she whispered, happy birthday to me, from Quinn. It was almost enough. Could almost pretend that the girl was there beside her, wishing her the words she always wanted to hear from someone on the dawn of this day.

The early days of the break were for lounging around, resetting her nervous system from the tribulations that had wrecked her sleep in the last few weeks. But this so-called peace got old very quickly. Sure, she could do her homework, but it was still early—she had all the time in the world.

Come Wednesday, she texted Quinn.

Rachel: Quinn, feel free to come over today.
Quinn: Not to sound a little creepy but... are your dads at home?
Rachel: No, they work all day. They only have a handful of days off for the holidays.
Quinn: That’s rough. Okay, I’ll be there soon.
Rachel: Wait, how soon?
Quinn: In 20 minutes.

At this, Rachel jumped out of bed. She had just woken up—texting Quinn was the first order of business in her day, and she did not realise that the girl was eager to come over. Rachel rushed through her morning routine. Brushed her teeth, gargled mouthwash, and combed her hair. Put her hair into two pigtail braids because she was at a loss on how to style it. She washed her face, forewent her morning exercise. A knock against the door interrupted her quest of finding something to eat.

Quinn stood on her doorstep, dressed in skintight black pants torn at the knees, and a black pea coat with the collar turned up. A buffalo plaid scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face, a burgundy red beanie covered her head, a lock of blonde hair stuck out of it to adorn the centre of her forehead.

“Come in—it’s freezing!” Rachel shivered in her pyjamas.

Quinn stamped the snow off her boots and closed the door behind her. She peeled back the many layers of her clothes. “I almost couldn't get out of the house—my mom was in the middle of getting ready to go to church.”

“On a Wednesday?” Rachel wished she wore socks as she trembled.

“It’s a thing, actually.” Quinn hung her jacket and scarf upon a hook and looked at Rachel. “Sorry, did I let the cold in?”

“Maybe you can warm me up.”

“You sure? It’s thirty-five degrees out.” Quinn touched Rachel’s cheek and the singer screeched.

“Where are your gloves?” She demanded.

Quinn laughed and buried her fists in the pocket of her crimson red hoodie but Rachel tugged at them. Cupped them between her hands and blew warm air at the fingers. She massaged them to get the blood flowing to Quinn’s extremities. Rachel looked up and saw that Quinn was watching her.

“Oh, you’re blonde again!”

Quinn was indeed back to her prior hair colour. Blonde hair truly sharpened her features, made her look like an angel. Rachel reached out to feel the silky hair between her fingers. 

“I got a trim and got rid of the last of the pink. Do I look okay?”

Rachel frowned at Quinn playfully. “Quinn, you know you look amazing. You always do. Though I was a little concerned—or maybe that is not the correct term. Maybe I meant curious about whether you would go back to your old fashion. I must admit that I am pleased to see that you are not.”

Quinn chuckled. “Yeah? I didn't feel like changing my clothes just yet.”

“I liked your clothes then but I also like your clothes now. You look a different shade of cool. And what even is an Equipment?”

“They're an emo band from Toledo.”

“Was that what you did last summer? Go to concerts?”

“I wouldn't call it a concert because it's not at a venue. At most, the stage was a pallet they got for free at Home Depot and it's in someone's basement or garage. Bands would come to play. It's very loose and casual.”

Rachel nodded, a little wary. “So you spent your summer in strangers' basements?”

“And garages,” Quinn said with a grin.

At this the singer shook her head. “Okay. Did you have breakfast? Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d love some. I haven’t eaten.”

Rachel tied her apron around her waist—it was a frilly pink affair with small red hearts dotted all over the fabric. Quinn was perched on the breakfast island with a perfect view of the countertops and the stove where Rachel would work. Her face rested against her upturned palm. 

“Aren’t I just wife material?” Rachel asked. She did a little twirl in front of Quinn.

“Yeah,” The blonde girl smiled.

“I was only joking, but thank you.”

“Do you need help with anything?”

“No, I got it. I may not be a good cook overall but if there is anything I know do know how to cook, it would be breakfast.” Rachel busied herself around the kitchen. She took out the ingredients for pancakes and measured the powders with intense precision. Cracked eggs into a separate bowl in a clumsy manner that Quinn laughed as Rachel fished out shards of eggshell. She whisked the mixture vigorously, but only for a few seconds. Rachel left the pancakes to cook so she could move on to make a pot of coffee.

Rachel served Quinn lopsided pancakes with a side of vegan butter, marmalade, and pure Canadian maple syrup. She placed a mug of coffee beside the plate and beamed. “Go ahead and eat.”

“What about you?” Quinn pulled out the empty chair beside her and patted it for Rachel to sit on. “I can’t eat a dozen pancakes.”

She put half of the pancakes on a plate and kept the wonkier-shaped ones for herself. She put the serving plate in front of Rachel along with a fork.

They ate their pancakes, chatting the entire time. Rachel noticed how close her chair was to Quinn’s—so close that their elbows kept bumping into each other. Quinn drank her coffee black and Rachel was amazed by it, though she poured so much syrup on her pancakes that the sugar intake surely balanced out in the end.

They fell into the rhythm of something different—different only because it was new, not unwanted at all. Quinn washed the dishes and Rachel cleaned the counters. She put away the things back into the fridge and pantry, and the blonde wiped the sink, wrung the dishcloth and draped it out to dry. They finished their respective self-appointed tasks at almost the same time. When they turned towards each other, they reached for the other’s hand.

“What would you like to do?” Rachel asked.

Quinn shrugged. “What do you usually do? I don’t want to mess up your day—and I don’t want you to do anything different for me.”

“Well, I usually start with an elliptical training set but I just ate and that doesn’t seem like a good idea. So I think I’ll record something for MySpace.”

“You still upload?” Quinn asked, her eyes bright. “I didn’t know. I haven’t looked in a while.”

“I have a different account,” Rachel said with a sheepish shrug.

Quinn squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s done.” Rachel dragged Quinn into her bedroom. Opened up her laptop to show her account.

“Whoa, you have so many friends.”

“I cover more than just show tunes now and I think that definitely helped. I got the idea when I sang “My Only Exception” in glee club. Also, I have to change where I put my covers. They’re saying that MySpace is dying or dead!”

“Why not try YouTube? It’s all the rage.”

“Okay, I might.”

Quinn settled on Rachel’s bed while the singer set up her bulky video camera. She performed her scales and other vocal warm ups. Trilled her tongue, took deep breaths, exaggerated the sounds that came out of her mouth. She sang with no music playing out loud, but she had it playing through earphones. She knew how Quinn watched her with lovely, intense eyes.

“Will you press the record button for me? On the video camera?”

“I got you.”

She sang her song. She honestly did not plan it out like this but she was herself—of course she had a working list of songs she would love to sing to Quinn during glee club or any other time, as long as the girl would hear it. And in hearing it sung by Rachel, hopefully she would believe the words to be for her. She sang with feeling—so much so that tears sprung in her eyes. Noticed how Quinn gripped her knees so tightly.

“There's no logic, so please believe me,” Rachel sang, and it was sweet. Eyes on Quinn the entire time but she realised that she really ought to be looking at the camera. “My love's confusing but it never gets dull...”

The song ended. Rachel waited a few beats of just staring at the camera with a smile before she removed her earphones. Quinn ended the recording.

“That was great. I love the song, too,” Quinn said.

Rachel cleared her throat and took a swig from her bulky water bottle. “I mean it for you, you know.”

Quinn said nothing, only kept her head down. Rachel approached her and swung her legs over the blonde girl’s thighs to straddle her lap. She caressed Quinn’s shoulders, cupped her neck on either side. Brushed her thumbs against the line of Quinn’s jaw. She did not push this time though her mouth hungered for Quinn. All Rachel did was press her lips against Quinn’s forehead, to leave a print there of all the things she wanted to say, though Quinn may not be ready for it.

They sat beside each other on Rachel’s bed, the singer halfway under the blankets while Quinn read a book she brought with her. This became the pattern of their time together during the break—Quinn came to Rachel’s house early every single weekday after Rachel’s dads had left the house to go to work. She left an hour before Rachel’s projected time of her fathers’ return.

It was easy to spend time with Quinn. They cracked jokes, they finished their vacation homework together, talked incessantly, showed each other movies from their childhood. Rachel, of course, showed Quinn Funny Girl, and Quinn showed her a movie she had not heard of before called The Mummy.

“There’s a sequel that’s really good, too,” Quinn said, sliding the DVD into the tray. She brought her copy from her home. “But the third one... We don’t talk about the third one.”

“What’s wrong with the third one?”

“Everything. Rachel Weisz wasn’t in it, the CG was weird. So everyone forgets on purpose that it exists.”

A few days after Christmas, things became too hectic in Rachel’s house—she had not heard that her dads took vacation days until the new year so she texted Quinn early on a day she failed to hear the habitual morning sounds of her parents in the kitchen. Even after the clock struck eight in the morning Rachel could still hear the faint sound of snoring so she scrambled for her phone and texted Quinn.

Rachel: Quinn, I’m so sorry. My dads had neglected to tell me that they took vacation days between Christmas and New Year!! You may not want to come over, I fear.
Quinn: That sucks. I don’t think I can come until way after New Year either.
Quinn: My mom gave me the third degree for being out of the house too much. So now I have to be home. At least until after the break.
Rachel: Oh noooooooo!!!!
Rachel: I’ll miss you.
Quinn: Me too.

Rachel tried not to let it show too much that she was dejected that her dads were home—so she immersed herself in being in their presence. She hung out with them so much just to avoid thinking about all the time she could have been spending with Quinn, though at the same time why should she begrudge her parents their days off? Instead of sulking in their presence, she spent the rest of the day in her bedroom.

New Year celebrations came and went. All Rachel and Quinn shared were season’s greetings through texts, and a few conversations here and there.

A few days before school started again, Rachel received a text from Quinn.

Quinn: I don’t care if your dads are home today—I want to drop something off to you.
Rachel: Are you sure?
Quinn: Yeah. I’ll be quick though.
Rachel: You may be so quick, but they might still ask to meet you. Is that okay?
Quinn: I think I’ll be able to handle it.

Rachel, in anticipation, bundled herself up to meet Quinn at the door: she wore two layers of pyjamas, thick socks, her scarf, and a beanie. She had on two sweaters and watched outside her windows for the first sign of Quinn’s car. When it appeared at the end of her street, she ran downstairs, ignored her fathers’ inquiring looks, and put on her winter coat and boots. She went out the front door just as Quinn pulled into the driveway.

The blonde girl emerged from her car. “What are you doing outside?”

“I wanted to see you as soon as possible!” Rachel toed her way through possible black ice until she stood face to face with Quinn. She was clad in a thick waterproof jacket. Snow dusted their heads. Rachel ignored the discomfort of the cold winds in favour of giving her a hug.

“We should get inside, at least,” Quinn said through her scarf. “You’re shivering.”

Rachel did not release Quinn’s hand and pulled her into the house. The warmth was immediate relief, and Rachel peeled off her layers while Quinn brushed the snow off her jacket. It was only then did Rachel notice that Quinn had a package tucked against her side, of a white paper bag with a red and green ribbon that tied it together.

“Happy birthday, merry Christmas,” she said, voice muffled through layers of her scarf, “and happy new year. Sorry it’s one gift for three occasions.”

“It’s okay, it’s not like I celebrate Christmas. Thank you. What is it?” Rachel pulled Quinn deeper into her house away from the draft of the front door. She took the package from Quinn and peered inside.

“A microphone? Really? These things are expensive!”

Quinn rubbed her hands together and puffed warm air into them, but Rachel handed her a paper bag that had been on the entryway table for the longest time that her dads had asked about it, but Rachel had refused to answer in a definitive way.

“You need better equipment if you want to impress people online, and that’s just a starter microphone so it wasn’t that expensive. You just plug it in. You might have to learn some software stuff to synchronise the audio with your video,” Quinn reached into the bag Rachel gave her and took out black fingerless gloves that had a flap that transformed them into mittens, dotted with small gold stars.

“Oh, cute,” Quinn said and immediately slipped them on. “Nice and warm.”

“I didn’t know you got me a gift so I only got you this small thing,” Rachel said with a small frown.

“Don’t worry. I like it. Reminds me of you.”

“That is the point.”

Rachel and Quinn stood there, a little awkward but happy to be in each other’s company again. When Rachel heard her dad clear his throat, however, that was when she knew she ought to say something to everyone.

“Dad, daddy, this is my friend, Quinn.”

“Hello, Mr. and Mr. Berry,” Quinn said, “I’m just dropping my gift off. I’ll be going now.”

“There’s no need to rush. How about some hot chocolate before you hit the road?” Hiram was already walking towards the kitchen. “Something to warm you up? We even have marshmallows.”

Quinn looked between the three intense looks each Berry gave her. Swallowed hard and nodded. “Hot chocolate sounds great.”

“Good!” Hiram beamed. “Why don’t you sit a while?”

Rachel dragged Quinn to the loveseat and sat beside her, both aware that her daddy watched them with a curious look.

“Are you two friends from glee club?” Leroy asked Quinn.

“Yes sir.”

“Regionals is in a few months, isn’t it? What do you have planned.”

“They don’t give out the theme that early,” said Quinn. “Right?”

Rachel nodded. “It’s usually given closer to the date. But Mr. Schue told me he wants to do Michael Jackson for it.”

“What, again?” Leroy asked, brows furrowed into a frown. “It’ll be different judges so maybe it’s fine?”

They talked about glee club and school, and Rachel’s daddy sometimes asked Quinn a direct question. Hiram emerged from the kitchen with a tray that held four steaming cups of hot chocolate, the scent thick, rich, and laced with cinnamon. He set it on the table and served it to Quinn first, followed by the rest.

Rachel wondered what Quinn felt, being given the first degree by her dads. It was not like they were grilling her of anything—they had no idea about the developments in Rachel’s inner and romantic life—but they did ask her a lot of questions the same way they did Kurt and Mercedes when they first met them. Quinn answered every question with a smile on her face, and even asked questions back. She seemed so at ease, but Rachel did notice the way her knee bounced a little.

Hiram’s response to Quinn’s question on what he did for a living was interrupted by a loud pounding of a fist against their front door. Rachel nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked at her dads, at Quinn. No one knew who it could be.

The answer came to them at once when Finn shoved his way into the house. He wore nothing but a blue hoodie, jeans, and a pair of running shoes that seemed soaked from all the snow outside. His ears were red from the cold, his face was pale and he looked gaunter than when Rachel last saw him.

“Why is it that every time I happen to drive by your house, Quinn’s car is also here?” He asked, his voice tight and raspy, like he had not spoken for days until this very moment. His eyes were bloodshot.

“Because we’re friends,” Quinn said. She stood in front of Rachel, blocking her from Finn’s view. “And what do you mean ‘every time’?”

“You stay out of this, Quinn,” Finn snapped. “Everything’s your fault. You probably told Rachel I wanted to marry her.”

“So what if I did? You were being an idiot.”

“Shut up!” Finn slammed his fist that punctured the wall nearest to him. Everyone jumped. “You made Rachel break up with me.”

“I didn’t make Rachel do anything. I asked her not to break up with you,” Quinn said. “But it looks to me now that she made the right decision.”

“Quinn, dear. Let’s stop talking for a second, alright?” Hiram said gently. “Finn’s already having rough time from the looks of things.”

Quinn’s ears reddened. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, don’t be. But maybe you kids can hash it out when everyone is more stable, hm?” Leroy squeezed Quinn’s shoulder, shot Rachel a look that told her that he wanted a conversation with her later, before greeting Finn with a hug. The moment the older man’s arms wrapped around him, Finn burst into tears that soaked through Leroy’s shirt. He clung to Leroy like he was drowning.

Quinn chewed her bottom lip and turned to Rachel. “I better go.”

“Quinn, please,” Rachel whispered, grasping her hand in hers. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“But...”

“Go up to Rachel’s room, both of you,” Hiram said, “while we talk to Finn.”

Rachel nodded and dragged Quinn upstairs to her bedroom. Once within the safety of the room, Rachel let out the breath she had been holding the moment Finn burst through the front door. She slumped on the bed and could not help the sobs that escaped her body. Quinn sat beside her head and rubbed her trembling back.

For a while neither of them said anything. Only Rachel’s uneven, shaky breaths filled the room, and Quinn’s warm hand heavy against her back helped her regain stability inside herself. Rachel sat up and Quinn held out her hands. Of course she had to fling herself into Quinn’s arms. The scent of her body, its heat, was what she needed.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said.

“For what?” Rachel’s head snapped up to glare at her. “Don’t be sorry for being here.”

“If I wasn’t here, he wouldn’t have reacted like that.”

Rachel shook her head. “If anything, I’m sorry he is blaming you for things that are not your fault.”

“Are you sure?” Quinn raised her brow. “I wouldn’t say I’m not blameless.”

“Look,” Rachel said, exasperated now. “You asked me to stay with him. You didn’t want me to leave him, but I wanted to, because when the day comes that you’re ready for me, I want to be ready for you too.”

Quinn sighed, clasped their hands together and kissed their laced fingers. They cuddled in Rachel’s bed, the singer’s head rested upon Quinn’s chest. The silence between them was comforting—Rachel focused on the rhythm of Quinn’s heartbeat against her cheek, and the slow caress of her hand on her back. She could drift to sleep like this.

A soft knock interrupted the reverie and Hiram poked his head into Rachel’s room. He did not bat an eyelash at the position he found them in but Rachel felt Quinn tense beneath her.

“Will you two please come and talk to him? And—be nice, please. He’s had a rough couple of days.”

Quinn and Rachel followed after the older Berry to return to the living room where Finn sat with Leroy, a cup of water drained on the coffee table in front of him. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and lifted his head long enough to look Rachel in the eye.

“I’m sorry. Your dad said I can feel the way I feel but how you feel is yours to express, and I guess you expressed it by breaking up with me,” Finn dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and kept speaking, “I really did believe we were endgame. I was so sure. But we’re not and it’s—okay.”

His voice cracked. “It’s okay. I still love you, but I can’t let that keep me from living my life.”

Rachel glanced at her dad who nodded as Finn spoke. This was the type of thing he would say to a catastrophizing teenager and for that she was grateful that he cared enough about Finn to talk him through his feelings.

“Thank you Finn. I’m sorry for the harsh way I handled you and your feelings. You deserved better than that.”

Finn’s head bobbed in an imperceptible nod. “And Quinn—sorry I blamed you.”

“If I were in your shoes, I’d blame me too.”

Finn looked at Rachel once more before turning to speak to Leroy in a low voice. Rachel reached behind her where she knew Quinn to be, and her hand brushed hers. She held Quinn’s hand behind her back as Finn left. When both of her dads wheeled around to face her, however, she dropped Quinn’s hand like it burned her.

Hiram held out his arms and Rachel sank into his hug. “Breaking up with someone, especially for the first time, is always difficult.”

“Nor does it get easier,” Leroy said. “You’re lucky you have parents who could talk that boy down. If I hadn’t been able to, I had half the mind to call an emergency psychiatrist.”

Hiram looked over at Quinn with a kind smile. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to actually have your drink. Would you like me to reheat it?”

“No, it’s okay. I think I better go, actually. Thank you for the hot chocolate and the present, Rachel. Um—sorry about your wall.”

Quinn avoided eye contact with anyone, only went to gather her jacket and boots that she didn’t even put on before leaving Rachel’s house. Within a few seconds they heard Quinn’s engine, followed by the crunch of her tires against the fresh-fallen snow.

There was a beat of silence but Rachel knew her dads. Knew that they boiled with questions they long to ask, but they only waited for the other to make the first move—so Rachel did it for them.

“For your information, Quinn and I are not together.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming...” Leroy said.

“But,” Rachel glared at her daddy. “I want to be. I broke up with Finn so that when our day comes, nothing would get in between us.”

“What do you mean? You’ve broken up with him—isn’t that what you’re waiting for?”

Rachel bit her lip and shook her head. “No—she... She’s not ready, but I’m willing to wait. That is all I have to say about this topic. Thank you for respecting that.”

School started again and it allowed Rachel to get lost in its rhythm. Finn was distant but was present in every glee club meeting, which was more than Rachel could ask of him but was grateful for his presence nonetheless. True to her assumptions, most of the glee club had forgotten what happened between Finn and Rachel. Everything went on as it usually did.

Quinn, on the other hand... Rachel could tell she was creating distance between them. She still wore the gloves Rachel gave her for Christmas. 

As per Quinn's suggestion, on the last remaining days of break, Rachel finally bit the bullet and made a Youtube account. The first video she posted on her new channel was her cover of Ben Lee’s “Ache For You” using the microphone that Quinn gave her.

She received a lot of kind comments: they praised her voice, her talent, asked about what equipment she used. She had a few hundred subscribers on her first week on the website and she wanted to tell Quinn about it but the blonde remained elusive. They spoke sometimes, but never about their relationship that hung in limbo. They did not hang out after school, and the most they touched was their hands brushing against each other when passing handouts in class.

This went on until February.

Until one day, Rachel was in the middle of washing her hands in the bathroom sink during lunch. Quinn sauntered in and closed the door behind her. They made eye contact through the mirror as Quinn walked up behind her, holding a sheet of folded paper in her hand. Without a word, she handed it to Rachel.

She scanned the paper. Before her, Quinn wrung her hands and bit her lip.

“You got into Yale,” Rachel whispered.

“I got into Yale,” Quinn nodded. “Early admissions. Right? I didn’t just imagine any of it?”

Rachel threw herself into Quinn’s arms and together they cried and laughed, the emotions that had once been muddled and cloudy now appeared in stark relief. The first steps into reaching Quinn’s ambitions had been achieved and there was nowhere to go but up. When she pulled back to look into Quinn’s eyes, she saw in the light an expression so familiar.

“Quinn? What is it?”

“I—” she laughed and shook her head. “When I got this letter you were the first thing on my mind. My first thought after ‘holy shit’ was ‘I have to tell Rachel’. Because...” she shrugged, shoulders trembling as tears fell down her cheeks. This time it was Rachel who cupped her face and wiped them away. “I wouldn’t have tried if it wasn’t for you. I want to be someone who deserves to stand by your side.”

“Oh Quinn,” Rachel sighed. Pressed a kiss to Quinn’s forehead, but the blonde tilted her face up towards her so that their noses brushed. Their mouths met into a kiss that melded their lips in softness and warmth. “You never have to do anything to deserve my love. It’s already yours.”

“Thank you,” Quinn said with a simplicity that made Rachel’s heart squeeze in her chest. “When are your NYADA auditions?”

“Not until March, I think.”

“I know you’ll get in,” Quinn said. “They’d be foolish not to recognise your talent.”

Rachel took a step back but Quinn did not fully sever contact—she reached out for Rachel’s hand. “May I ask you something? I’ve been racking my brain for the reason but I could not come up with anything.”

“What is it?”

“Why won’t you still be with me?”

Quinn was about to speak but she shook her head. “You know that I want you so much that the thought of failing this relationship scares the shit out of me.”

“I do know that. But with a love like ours, nothing is impossible.”

“It’s sweet that you think so highly of us,” Quinn smiled and brushed a knuckle against Rachel’s cheek. “But we’d be doing long-distance. Would you be okay with that?”

“We can make it work,” Rachel insisted. “And if we start now, we’d have at least four months of this. Don’t you want that?”

Quinn’s throat flexed and she nodded. “I do,” she said.

“Then be with me.”

“Rachel, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” Rachel whispered. “Be mine.”

“I’m already yours, you know that. But—” the door swung open and a startled freshman walked in and froze in her tracks, her eyes wide as she stared at Rachel, then at Quinn. “Ugh, we can’t talk about this here.”

“I know a place,” Rachel said. Took Quinn’s arm to lead her through the crowds in the hallways, into a classroom that, next to the choir room, felt like a second home to their bond with each other. Inside the celibacy club room, Bertina the skeleton model wore a bowler hat.

“So?” Rachel asked softly, not letting go of Quinn’s hand as they stood in the middle of the classroom. The planets hung above them, Saturn and its rings drifted in ambient air. “What were you going to say?”

“I want to be with you, I really do. But every time I allow myself to imagine it, the anticipating of the joy is always eclipsed by the fear. And—I don’t want to live in fear. But every time I think of being with you now, in high school, I remember that my parents were high school sweethearts and look where they ended up.”

Quinn looked visibly shaken. Her hand in Rachel’s trembled, her grip tight that it almost hurt. “You are not your parents—even though genetically-speaking...”

Quinn laughed and wiped her eyes.

“I only meant that your circumstances are different from theirs. You’re not stuck here—”

“We’re not stuck here.”

Rachel smiled and caressed Quinn’s cheek. “Yes, thank you. We are not stuck here. It’s okay to be scared, you know. I’m scared too.”

“You don’t seem like it.”

“I can put on a brave face,” Rachel said with a grin. “But I’m scared to mess up. And the enormity of my desire for you feels so unfathomable that sometimes I feel like I’m having a panic attack.”

Quinn made a tender-hearted sound in her throat as she pulled Rachel into a hug.

Against the warmth of Quinn’s neck, Rachel sighed and breathed her in. Her hair tickled her face. Her strong arms made her safe. In this moment, she wondered—what did she want? What else was there?

The label, sure, but Rachel found that she did not really care.

“I already walk this planet devoted to you. I don’t actually know what else I want,” Rachel murmured.

“You don’t want the label?”

Rachel rolled her eyes—more at herself than at Quinn. “I get why you might think that about me. And honestly, we’re lovers, aren’t we? In the sense that we are in love?”

Quinn blushed and nodded.

“You’re so cute,” Rachel wailed.

“H-hey! Don’t put that on me—that’s all you.” Quinn giggled and brushed Rachel’s hair away from her face and patted her head. She looked past Rachel’s head, a wistful, lost expression in her gaze. “I think... this is the best way. There’s no pressure, because it’s just us—why should I feel otherwise?”

Rachel swayed in Quinn’s arms and they danced to a tune they could not hear but existed as the song that lived in their hearts. “That’s that, then? You’re mine and I’m yours?”

“How do you feel? Different?”

“Mmm, not much, to be honest. It is a lovely sameness. I don’t feel like I have anything to prove, unlike previous times.”

Quinn kissed Rachel’s forehead and peeled herself away from her lover. “Thank you. For waiting.”

“Of course. Until the sun burns out, actually.”

“That’s a lie, you’d be dead by then.”

“You don’t think I’d pine for you even in the afterlife? You think so poorly of me!”

“I think the world of you, okay?” Quinn snapped, though her tone was affectionate, and her eyes never told lies.

Rachel was sure she’d burst from happiness. Imagine her surprise when Quinn kissed her and she did not.

Days passed them by in bliss. The wonderful fact about embarking in a new, unexplored relationship, even if you were friends first who had make out sessions before anything else, was the sheer mystique of what would come next. A lot of times, the movie, the story, the television show only liked to explore the events that led to a relationship and rarely what came after.

And what came after was a beautiful thing indeed. Quinn was sweet in subtle ways that expressed her knowledge of Rachel and her quirks. Would always meet her at her locker so they could walk to class together. Would sit beside each other as often as they could, too, and Rachel loved every minute of it.

No one noticed and it was a relief—or if they did notice, no one said anything. Plus, Rachel liked to think she was careful with her affections, unleashing it only in the privacy of their bedrooms. Mouth never leaving any part of Quinn’s body for hours on end, until the time came where they must part. She was intoxicated by Quinn, her love for her, and the blonde’s love for her. She felt delirious, most days. 

Valentine’s Day came and both Rachel and Quinn agreed not do anything unique for it because every day felt special enough as it was. Though Quinn bought Rachel flowers early in the morning, and Rachel gave Quinn a box of her favourite dark chocolates.

They had to perform at Breadstix that night because the glee club was hired to sing a number of love songs for the couples who dined in the restaurant for Valentine’s Day. They had to, Mr. Schuester reasoned, because the money they earned would help pay for their costumes for Regionals. So of course the glee club did it. Every opportunity Rachel had, she would glance at Quinn as she sang. Every time she looked back, she knew the blonde would be looking too.

Rachel wanted to sing a duet with Quinn so badly, but a part of her also did not want her relationship be a spectacle. The moment it became public, Rachel worried that their friends would find that to be open season for commenting, and that was the last thing Rachel wanted.

“But,” Rachel told Quinn in the parking lot on their way home from Breadstix, still dressed in red and pink dresses that subtly matched, “I want you to know that if I could guarantee that the glee club had nothing bad to say about us, I would sing a duet with you in a heartbeat.”

“I know,” Quinn said, a sweet smile on her face.

The auditions for NYADA arrived before Rachel knew it.

“Are you good? You’ve been so easygoing lately—so much so that I think you’ve been ill,” Kurt remarked, touching Rachel’s forehead with a frown. “Is everything okay? Truly?”

“Everything is so fine, Kurt, thanks for asking.”

They sat in the dark bowl of the school auditorium. It was just the two of them, as they expected. The NYADA recruitment representative had yet to appear, so they passed the time, the jitters present but also disregarded. They had their whole lives ahead of them that there was no space for the fear to make its home in their minds.

Footsteps echoed in the cavernous space, and both Rachel and Kurt looked behind them, lest it was Carmen Tibideaux. Instead, it was Quinn who held a carton tray with two steaming cups.

“I wanted to tell you to break a leg for your audition,” she said, handing the tray to Rachel. “Warm water and lemon, for your throats. For you too, Kurt.”

“Oh? Thank you, Quinn. How considerate,” he said.

Quinn had no eyes for anyone but Rachel. She patted dark brown tresses and lightly squeezed her pink cheeks. “You’ll be great.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you after, okay?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Quinn squeezed Rachel’s earlobe and departed from the auditorium. Rachel could feel the curiosity, the inquiries bubbling out of Kurt’s chest, so all she did was sip the drink Quinn prepared for her.

“When did that happen?” He asked quietly. “Was she... the reason?”

“Don’t get distracted. This is our future on the line here.”

Carmen Tibideaux was hard to read but Rachel did not sweat it. Kurt had already performed ahead of her, and his execution of his song picks was fun, and skilled. For Rachel’s performance, she gave her all, in her own way. The songs she chose, all show tunes but of varied ranges, were songs that inspired a wellspring of emotion in her soul because they made her think of Quinn. For her first song, she performed “When He Sees Me” from Waitress to express the dynamics of her singing and tone. This was followed by “Gimme Gimme” from Thoroughly Modern Millie, to demonstrate her knowledge of the classics. Finally, her closing song was “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again” from Phantom of the Opera, a song that displayed the control she had with her notes, how she could still be expressive despite the restraint needed for the song.

She sang eight bars for each song, though her blood thrummed to sing the rest.

Kurt applauded furiously, his coiffed hair bobbing. At the director’s table, Ms. Tibideaux wrote something on her clipboard.

“Thank you, Miss Berry. Classic choices, but it shows expertise and respect for the pillars of Broadway. And your evocation is surprisingly deft for someone your age.”

“Thank you,” Rachel said, surprised.

“You will both receive your letters in the mail in six weeks,” she rose to her feet and departed the auditorium. All while Rachel and Kurt gawked at each other.

“Oh my god, did she mean—”

“I think she did—”

Kurt and Rachel ran into each other in a hug, jumping in excitement as they did so. Rachel tore herself apart from him, eyes shining bright. “I have to go.”

“Oh, alright. Go to Quinn since I’m just chopped liver.”

Rachel laughed and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek from which he squirmed away. She ran out of the auditorium but found that she did not have to go very far because Quinn was there, sitting on the floor with a book propped open on her lap.

“Wha—hey! Don’t you have class?” Rachel asked, her shoes skidding against the linoleum before she could wheel around back to stand in front of Quinn.

“I’m skipping. How did it go?”

“I’m not sure but she said me and Kurt will get our letters in the mail, so doesn’t that mean...?”

Quinn stood up from the floor and gathered Rachel up in her arms. “I knew you could do it.”

The squeak of sneakers came too late that they did not have time to step away from each other. The sneakers sound was followed by the clatter of textbooks hitting the floor. Finn—of all people to come now, why did it have to be him?—rounded the corner and stared at Rachel and Quinn, who now stood five feet apart from each other.

“You—and you—” he stammered. Eyes wide and livid. He trembled through clenched fists, through picking up the books he dropped on the floor. “Whatever. It’s whatever. I need to go to the library.”

His head down, he barrelled through the hallway, his shoulders hunched up to his ears. Rachel swallowed hard, looked to Quinn for reassurance who gave it by squeezing her hand.

“It’s going to be okay. He would have found out eventually.”

“Are you sure? Is it really okay?”

“I trust you, and I trust that whatever he causes between us would not tear us apart,” Quinn said. “Right?”

Rachel nodded, firm and sure. As long as Quinn’s hand was in hers.

Weeks passed like water through their fingers, unrelenting but pleasant. New Directions performed during Regionals and placed enough to make it to Nationals. One of the songs they performed, Rachel noticed, touched Quinn like nothing they had sang before. Whenever she rehearsed the song, even filmed it so she could post it on her Youtube account later, she would see Quinn wiping tears from her eyes at the song’s end. Rachel found that she, too, would cry a little as she sang it.

“Do you like that song?” Rachel asked, sitting on Quinn’s lap to hug her.

“It’s a good song, and you sing it so well,” Quinn said.

“I’m singing it to you. Maybe that’s why it gets us so emotional,” Rachel brushed Quinn’s hair back and kissed her.

“You’re singing it to me?” Quinn asked in a small voice.

“Of course, Quinn,” Rachel furrowed her brow, confused. “There is no one else to whom I would dedicate that song.”

Quinn squeezed Rachel’s waist and tilted her face up at the singer again. Rachel knew what the many looks in Quinn’s eyes meant, more than she did back then. She saw that Quinn wanted to kiss, again and again, until they lose track of time, until all Rachel could taste is Quinn’s tongue in her mouth—a habit, a gesture, an act she could spend her whole life perfecting.

They spent every day after school in Rachel’s house most of the time, though they went to Quinn’s sometimes too. They were in Rachel’s house the day the mail carrier arrived at the Berry doorstep, an event that could be heard throughout the house. The rattle of the envelope as it slipped through the slot in the door made Rachel look up like a gazelle who heard a hunter enter her vicinity.

“Is that—” she tossed the spatula to Quinn as she was in the middle of making her lover a grilled cheese sandwich. Quinn squeaked but caught the kitchen implement as Rachel scurried over to the front door mat. She screamed.

“My NYADA letter came!” She jumped in excitement, waving a standard envelope above her head. “Should I open it now?”

“If you’d like, but wouldn’t you want your fathers to be here?”

“No, they’ll take too long—I’m opening it.” Rachel tore the envelope and her eyes scanned the paper greedily.

“Well?” Quinn asked.

“Here, read it to me.”

“Did you forget how to read?” Quinn teased. She turned off the stove and fished her sandwich out of the pan first before taking the letter from Rachel. “Dear Miss Berry, we are pleased to inform you...”

“I got in!” Rachel screamed, arms curled around Quinn’s neck as she covered the girl’s face with aggressive kisses. “Oh my god I need to know if Kurt got his. I’ll be right back!”

Rachel sprinted off to the phone to call her friend. In a flurry of minutes she found out that Kurt too would attend NYADA with her. They spoke about New York, their dorms, anything they could bring up that had such a bright gold sheen to it because it was the future and it was theirs.

When Rachel went to her bedroom, she found Quinn on her bed, laptop propped open on her lap. She looked up at Rachel and smiled. “Judging from the way you were screaming at the phone, can I assume Kurt got in as well?”

“He did! Isn’t it all so exciting?” Rachel crawled into bed beside Quinn to spoon beside her.

“I’m excited for you both,” Quinn murmured, kissing Rachel’s forehead.

Rachel wrapped her arm around Quinn’s stomach and looked at her computer screen. “What is that?”

“Just an idea I had,” Quinn said. Her voice took on the quality it always had when the girl was unsure. “A weekend Day Pass from New York to New Haven and vice versa is only fifty bucks, which isn't bad. I thought there was a pass of some sort, but I guess I imagined it. And if we buy ten rides, we get one free, so that's cool.”

“What about a monthly pass?”

“If we can only see each other on weekends, it wouldn't be worth the money. It's almost five hundred bucks,” Quinn said, scrolling through the page. “What do you think? About the weekend Day Pass?”

“I think it’s a good idea. I'm mostly worried because it would add to our expenses. It'll come up to an extra two hundred bucks a month,” Rachel played with Quinn's hair and watched her read through the train fare pdf she downloaded from the MTA website.

“Mm,” Quinn hummed. “It’s not much, in the grand scheme of things.”

“No, huh?”

Quinn tilted her head back to rest against the headboard. “The idea of doing long-distance makes my stomach hurt. The effort it would take is astronomical. Are you still sure you want to do this?”

“Yep!”

“Well, good,” Quinn sighed and kissed Rachel’s forehead. “Because I do too.”

They talked about the future some more, despite its cloudy, unclear visage, whereupon Rachel stood in a field that roiled with fog and steam and obscured the way ahead of her. Everywhere there was darkness, save for the warmth she held in her hand. Quinn, standing beside her with eyes so clear and honest.

“Everything might seem difficult now, but...”

Quinn grasped Rachel’s chin and pulled her in for a kiss so full of words unsaid, and longing, and a tight, grasping sensation that was familiar for both of them.

“I know,” Quinn said. “It’ll all be worth it.”

Despite the ache and the manifold fears of losing, the love, they knew, was in the trying.