So Go On and Tear Me Apart [2/2]
Title: So Go On And Tear Me Apart [2/2]
Rating: G.
Length: 1,657 words.
Spoilers: Up to Journey, to be safe.
Summary: All I need is all I have...what a load of crap.
Warnings: Angst, a few instances of kiddie cussing.
Notes: So, should I do another from Quinn's perspective? Hm. Title is from Gregory and the Hawk's Bravo, Charlie. Also - ugh, lj length limit. Post is split into two parts.
Part one.
---
Quinn Fabray, the blonde haired hazel eyed head cheerleader and girlfriend to the quarterback. Quinn Fabray, who slept with her boyfriend’s best friend, got pregnant, and lied about it. Quinn Fabray, who was easily forgiven as soon as Beth was born and her Cheerios uniform was back on. Quinn Fabray, who I’ve been in love with since the first time I saw her.
She’s the same girl who started calling me Treasure Trail and Manhands on my first day of school. The same girl who has thrown slushies on me and drawn pornographic pictures of me with permanent markers in the bathrooms. She’s the same girl that over half of my ex-boyfriends are in love with, and that’s in addition to the rest of the school, as well. She has everything I was supposed to have (she also has my heart, my soul, and everything else I have to give).
Quinn Fabray isn’t someone who you can just fall in love with. You can’t just walk up to her and confess your attraction, especially not if you’re a girl. She’s the one you pine after throughout high school and then look back fondly on once you’re all grown up and moved on. She’s that one unobtainable girl that will always reel you back in with just a look and then leave you high and dry as she moves on to her next victim.
She’s the Regina George of William McKinley. We all worship the ground she walks on and pray silently that she’ll choose to sit next to us at lunch (she doesn’t come to you, though. You go to her and you hope to whatever god you believe in that she doesn’t laugh in your face or sic Santana on you).
She’s done all of these crazy horrible things to me and I still can’t get enough of the shine of her hair, the glint in her eyes, the smooth porcelain skin of her legs. When she speaks I don’t dare interrupt because I know that her words few and far between outside of the practices that she runs and her celibacy club. Every single thing about her drives me crazy and makes me want to brush my skin against hers (somewhere, anywhere, doesn’t matter where). Sometimes she’ll smile in my direction (but not at me. Never at the lowly Rachel Berry) and for a moment I find hope.
Then reality crashes down on me and I’m back in this vortex of perfection that I can’t get a handle on and seeking an impossible and faraway love.
What hurts more than any thrown beverage, drawing, or rumor, though, isn’t that Quinn will never love me back. The thing that makes me break down every night is the knowledge that Quinn can never know how I feel about her.
I can never tell the only person that I’ve ever loved that I would give her anything in existence if it would make her happy. She will never know just how loved she is, and I know that sometimes even Quinn Fabray, as perfect as she is, has moments where she feels worthless. It should be me sweeping her off of her feet and out of her funk then, but it never has been and it never will be.
Poor, sad Rachel, right?
The truth of the matter is that I’m always going to love Quinn Fabray. I’ll never be the beautiful straight girl who has everything going for her and more people rooting for her success than hairs on her head. I’ll never be the girl that goes to sleep and dreams of a husband and children. No, Rachel Berry dreams of dimly lit stages with solo spotlights and a blonde haired woman in the audience with eyes for only the heroine.
Jesse St. James once told me that our dreams all have a basis in reality. That was the first time he ever lied to me (if you don’t count the whole ‘I switched to McKinley all for you’, spiel). The one dream I want more than anything will never be a reality.
I’m going to star on Broadway. I have all the confidence in the world in that fact. I’m going to be a huge star and all of these people that are abusing me today will be nothing. I’ll never have to see any of them again and that’s the one thing that keeps me going.
It’s also the one thing that holds me back.
So what if I’m going to reach every one of the goals I’ve had since I was old enough to talk? So what if I’ll be famous and popular and rich and wanted by men and women worldwide? I’ll never have Quinn Fabray, and she’s the one thing that I would give it all up for.
Rating: G.
Length: 1,657 words.
Spoilers: Up to Journey, to be safe.
Summary: All I need is all I have...what a load of crap.
Warnings: Angst, a few instances of kiddie cussing.
Notes: So, should I do another from Quinn's perspective? Hm. Title is from Gregory and the Hawk's Bravo, Charlie. Also - ugh, lj length limit. Post is split into two parts.
Part one.
---
Quinn Fabray, the blonde haired hazel eyed head cheerleader and girlfriend to the quarterback. Quinn Fabray, who slept with her boyfriend’s best friend, got pregnant, and lied about it. Quinn Fabray, who was easily forgiven as soon as Beth was born and her Cheerios uniform was back on. Quinn Fabray, who I’ve been in love with since the first time I saw her.
She’s the same girl who started calling me Treasure Trail and Manhands on my first day of school. The same girl who has thrown slushies on me and drawn pornographic pictures of me with permanent markers in the bathrooms. She’s the same girl that over half of my ex-boyfriends are in love with, and that’s in addition to the rest of the school, as well. She has everything I was supposed to have (she also has my heart, my soul, and everything else I have to give).
Quinn Fabray isn’t someone who you can just fall in love with. You can’t just walk up to her and confess your attraction, especially not if you’re a girl. She’s the one you pine after throughout high school and then look back fondly on once you’re all grown up and moved on. She’s that one unobtainable girl that will always reel you back in with just a look and then leave you high and dry as she moves on to her next victim.
She’s the Regina George of William McKinley. We all worship the ground she walks on and pray silently that she’ll choose to sit next to us at lunch (she doesn’t come to you, though. You go to her and you hope to whatever god you believe in that she doesn’t laugh in your face or sic Santana on you).
She’s done all of these crazy horrible things to me and I still can’t get enough of the shine of her hair, the glint in her eyes, the smooth porcelain skin of her legs. When she speaks I don’t dare interrupt because I know that her words few and far between outside of the practices that she runs and her celibacy club. Every single thing about her drives me crazy and makes me want to brush my skin against hers (somewhere, anywhere, doesn’t matter where). Sometimes she’ll smile in my direction (but not at me. Never at the lowly Rachel Berry) and for a moment I find hope.
Then reality crashes down on me and I’m back in this vortex of perfection that I can’t get a handle on and seeking an impossible and faraway love.
What hurts more than any thrown beverage, drawing, or rumor, though, isn’t that Quinn will never love me back. The thing that makes me break down every night is the knowledge that Quinn can never know how I feel about her.
I can never tell the only person that I’ve ever loved that I would give her anything in existence if it would make her happy. She will never know just how loved she is, and I know that sometimes even Quinn Fabray, as perfect as she is, has moments where she feels worthless. It should be me sweeping her off of her feet and out of her funk then, but it never has been and it never will be.
Poor, sad Rachel, right?
The truth of the matter is that I’m always going to love Quinn Fabray. I’ll never be the beautiful straight girl who has everything going for her and more people rooting for her success than hairs on her head. I’ll never be the girl that goes to sleep and dreams of a husband and children. No, Rachel Berry dreams of dimly lit stages with solo spotlights and a blonde haired woman in the audience with eyes for only the heroine.
Jesse St. James once told me that our dreams all have a basis in reality. That was the first time he ever lied to me (if you don’t count the whole ‘I switched to McKinley all for you’, spiel). The one dream I want more than anything will never be a reality.
I’m going to star on Broadway. I have all the confidence in the world in that fact. I’m going to be a huge star and all of these people that are abusing me today will be nothing. I’ll never have to see any of them again and that’s the one thing that keeps me going.
It’s also the one thing that holds me back.
So what if I’m going to reach every one of the goals I’ve had since I was old enough to talk? So what if I’ll be famous and popular and rich and wanted by men and women worldwide? I’ll never have Quinn Fabray, and she’s the one thing that I would give it all up for.