Easier to get over you
Title: Easier to get over you
Author: leksi231
Pairing,Character(s): Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2,361
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Rachel and Quinn end their relationship.
-
You come silently into the room, not being able to utter a single word or do anything but sit down. She follows you closely behind without making any noise but the sound of her shoes. She is too scared of your reaction to actually say what she really wanted to at that moment.
It’s wrong, what she did, you know that very well. You also know that you have been away for a whole month and that makes you wonder if it gave her the right to do it. But it actually doesn’t, right? No, no it definitely doesn’t.
You’ve done it before, so who are you to judge? And you really want to forgive her, you really do. Would you be a hypocrite if you didn’t? No, probably not, because you never even considered doing it to her. That’s the difference.
Your mind races through various options and suddenly stops at the idea of her being drunk. It gives you hope, for just a couple of moments, that she maybe never wanted to do it. But no, she doesn’t drink, you remind yourself. She never did and she is damn proud of that fact.
Maybe she was forced to do it, you think but throw the idea away quickly when the thought crosses your mind. You smile while remembering the time when she quit her first big Broadway show just because the director decided to throw in a scene of her and some guy in bed, and she didn’t approve of it. Your smile rapidly disappears when you remember that that’s why you are there, sitting in a long, uncomfortable silence with her. You are seated on a spacious couch in your living room and she is sitting on an armchair on the other side of the room. You steal a glance at her; she has her head down and a guilty look on her face. At that point, you hear a single fly in the room. You notice a tear rolling down her cheek and it doesn’t do anything for you; she hurt you too much to even care about her being sad, not when you were on verge of screaming because of the pain she caused you.
You try to speak but nothing comes out of your mouth when you open them. You repeat the action a few times before you achieve the wanted result.
“Why?” You ask quietly, only loud enough for her to barely hear you. Your head rises and your eyes settle on her broken expression. A response doesn’t come very soon, you have to wait for her to collect the courage and force herself to speak.
“It was a mistake.” The four words escape her lips and she knows you are not satisfied with the answer when you repeat your question, a little louder this time, with much more confidence. It doesn’t take her that long to answer this time. “I don’t know. It was a mistake.”
“That isn’t enough.” You mumble as you sit up and emerge to your room, where you start packing almost immediately. She followed you, of course, and she is trying to stop you even though she knows she can’t do anything to change your mind now. It’s too late
“I didn’t want to, I swear. I love only you. Please forgive me…” But you don’t listen as she rambles on like before, when you loved her long speeches. You just pack without saying a word. “Just please, for…” And then she stops herself from continuing and you know what she wanted to say.
You finish almost twenty minutes later. You didn’t pack all your things, just barely enough to have in the hotel until you find your own place. You sigh heavily as you close the suitcase. It’s going to be hard, you know that. Getting over her is going to be the hardest thing that you ever had to do. But you can’t stay, not with her there. It hurts too much to look at her at this moment, even more to speak to her; you can’t imagine forgiving her for what she has done. You would never, ever do that to her.
You never leave your keys behind, it probably gives her hope that you’ll come back. And you will, just not when she is there. You have to get the rest of your stuff someday.
Closing the front door was the most heartbreaking thing that you ever did. She knows it; too, that’s why she tried to talk you out of it when you stepped closer to the entrance.
You get in your car when you rush out of the building ten minutes later. You curse yourself for buying an apartment on the seventh floor in the building that has an elevator that barely ever works. After a few moments, you start driving to the nearest hotel and soon remember that was the place you stayed in when you first moved to New York. You pass the hotel soon, not wanting to bring back any memories of her, even though they were happy and could possibly bring you out of the funk you fell in just a little more than an hour ago, when she picked you up at the airport.
Sometime later, you find yourself pulling over in a parking lot of some filthy motel. It doesn’t matter anyway; you’ll find a place to live in soon and you’ll need some extra money for furniture. You are usually one of those people who plan things way too much but you never planned this. You never planned moving out of your home.
-
Being in a motel didn’t stop you from thinking of the times with her. Mostly happy times, as opposed to the sorrow that you were in at the moment.
You reflect on the way she looks at you. Her expression was always telling you loving things that she did not hold for herself.
The way she told you those things you saw in every night before you fell asleep made your heart warm. Every time that she did it, too, no exceptions.
The way that she laughs came on your mind very often, even when you hired a realtor. That was the thing that gave you a hint about being in love with her. The sweet sound of her chuckling at first and then that growing a little until she relented into the laugh completely.
Many things came to your mind before you finally found a new apartment to live in.
-
It’s been a few days since you moved out. You already bought a new apartment. It doesn’t feel like home, like it should, but it’s cozy and not too big, just like you wanted it to be.
You decided to go to her place that day. You were so sure, but so wrong, that she would be at her show that night; she always was at that time. You clearly remembered the opening night of the show; she was stunning and preformed wonderfully. You were so proud to have someone like her to call your girlfriend. Now, you take it all back.
You turned your key in the lock and swiftly walked into the flat. You heard the TV the moment you came in and you realized that she was there.
“I thought you would be out. I came to pick up the rest of my stuff.” You said in a low tone and exited the living room. It still hurts, you noted to yourself at that moment. You rushed to your old room and rapidly put your things in the bags that you brought. She didn’t move anything, you noticed after opening the well known closet. You think back to the time you chose it. She ended up sleeping on the couch for the first time since you moved in the apartment after a heated argument. It was silly, you now know that now. And still, she never failed to grant any wish you had from that night on. She was as perfect as someone could get. Maybe not for everyone but what mattered is that she was for you.
It took you half an hour to get all your things ready. You noticed that she didn’t even move from the couch since you came. She probably knew that you’ve set your mind up to this tonight. There was nothing that could possibly stop you from leaving once again.
She looked like he hadn’t slept in days; she had bags under her sad eyes, just like you did. You quickly snapped your head to the other side threw your keys on the coffee table and went to exit the apartment. She stopped you.
“I quit the show.” She simply said, gaining your attention but not for very long. Instead of answering, you walked out. It really didn’t change anything, she still did it.
-
The next time that you talked to her was when she came to your work place two months later. She apologized again and you accepted it along with some flowers. No, actually, it wasn’t just some flowers; the flowers were yellow lilies, your personal favorite. She knew that. After seven years, how could she not? You thanked her for the gesture, and she mentioned that she had a new show. But you knew that, of course. It was in the papers and you saw it the morning of the grand opening. You have seen it three times by now but you didn’t tell her that. She invited you to come and you politely declined, saying that you are too busy to go. Obviously, that wasn’t true, because you spent that night in some comfortable, old sweats and one of the oversized shirts you always used to sleep in when you were still with her. You drank a whole bottle of tequila, her favorite bottle. She has always had a thing for alcohol bottles; it was just what she liked to notice.
Seeing her again closely brought up some strong feelings and you chose to deal with the pain with the help of alcohol.
You realized it was a very bad idea the following morning. You woke up with a terrible headache and not even two pills helped. It wouldn’t be that way if she was there; she never let you get drunk. Not since the day one of your former relationship. You then remember how you got with; it was a beautiful night for both of you.
You were at your junior prom, drinking your second glass of the spiked punch. She approached you and complimented you and you just rudely ignored her. But that didn’t stop her, no. She talked about something that you didn’t even care enough to pay attention to. The only thing that you remember was that her voice was rather attractive for a girl that always talked too much. It wasn’t long before you silenced her with a kiss; shocking everyone in the room and making the singer stop his song in the middle.
She made you a better person; you’re not stupid enough to deny it. She was the one that got you out of the misery you were in that night. The one who brought hope and faith back to your life. The one who made your dorky smile from middle school come back when no one else could. The one that was your first love. Can you ever truly get over your first love?
-
A half a year, a hundred and twenty-three bouquets of lilies, six apology letters and thirteen seen shows later, you spoke with her again. This time, it was you who initiated it.
It was just after the thirteenth show you have seen, in her dressing room. You came in and congratulated her and after thanking you, she let the silence take over the room. It was tense in there and it seemed like none of you planned on speaking any time soon.
You approached her a couple of minutes later and put your hands around her waist and held her closely for a few moments. She didn’t make any move except for wrapping her arms around you; she was probably too shocked or scared to do anything else. Soon, you parted a little from the hug and pressed your lips against hers in a quick motion. She brought her tongue to your lips, as if asking for permission to enter and you let her, starting a battle for dominance between you two. Your tongues danced together for a long while; none of you was ready to let go. It felt the same as always; your heart raced from joy and you then realized that it would be hard to stop loving her. She let a single tear roll down his cheek and you felt it once it collided with your arm.
You soon remembered why you were actually there and parted fully away from her. You nervously pulled your shirt, the one with some silly drawings that you remember wearing when you two went to your first real date, and let your head fall down, letting you examine a hole on the floor; much more interesting, you thought at that moment. But you knew you had to do this once you came into the room. You let a silent tear or two fall down at the moment you turned around to leave, stopping only once you reached the door.
“It would be easier for me to get over you if you didn’t send flowers every day.” You say as coldly as you can and promptly leave the room, letting the tears you’ve been holding back finally fall down as you walked away from everything you two had. Easier to get over you; these five words float through your mind while you wonder if it will actually help at all.
-
Author: leksi231
Pairing,Character(s): Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2,361
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Rachel and Quinn end their relationship.
-
You come silently into the room, not being able to utter a single word or do anything but sit down. She follows you closely behind without making any noise but the sound of her shoes. She is too scared of your reaction to actually say what she really wanted to at that moment.
It’s wrong, what she did, you know that very well. You also know that you have been away for a whole month and that makes you wonder if it gave her the right to do it. But it actually doesn’t, right? No, no it definitely doesn’t.
You’ve done it before, so who are you to judge? And you really want to forgive her, you really do. Would you be a hypocrite if you didn’t? No, probably not, because you never even considered doing it to her. That’s the difference.
Your mind races through various options and suddenly stops at the idea of her being drunk. It gives you hope, for just a couple of moments, that she maybe never wanted to do it. But no, she doesn’t drink, you remind yourself. She never did and she is damn proud of that fact.
Maybe she was forced to do it, you think but throw the idea away quickly when the thought crosses your mind. You smile while remembering the time when she quit her first big Broadway show just because the director decided to throw in a scene of her and some guy in bed, and she didn’t approve of it. Your smile rapidly disappears when you remember that that’s why you are there, sitting in a long, uncomfortable silence with her. You are seated on a spacious couch in your living room and she is sitting on an armchair on the other side of the room. You steal a glance at her; she has her head down and a guilty look on her face. At that point, you hear a single fly in the room. You notice a tear rolling down her cheek and it doesn’t do anything for you; she hurt you too much to even care about her being sad, not when you were on verge of screaming because of the pain she caused you.
You try to speak but nothing comes out of your mouth when you open them. You repeat the action a few times before you achieve the wanted result.
“Why?” You ask quietly, only loud enough for her to barely hear you. Your head rises and your eyes settle on her broken expression. A response doesn’t come very soon, you have to wait for her to collect the courage and force herself to speak.
“It was a mistake.” The four words escape her lips and she knows you are not satisfied with the answer when you repeat your question, a little louder this time, with much more confidence. It doesn’t take her that long to answer this time. “I don’t know. It was a mistake.”
“That isn’t enough.” You mumble as you sit up and emerge to your room, where you start packing almost immediately. She followed you, of course, and she is trying to stop you even though she knows she can’t do anything to change your mind now. It’s too late
“I didn’t want to, I swear. I love only you. Please forgive me…” But you don’t listen as she rambles on like before, when you loved her long speeches. You just pack without saying a word. “Just please, for…” And then she stops herself from continuing and you know what she wanted to say.
You finish almost twenty minutes later. You didn’t pack all your things, just barely enough to have in the hotel until you find your own place. You sigh heavily as you close the suitcase. It’s going to be hard, you know that. Getting over her is going to be the hardest thing that you ever had to do. But you can’t stay, not with her there. It hurts too much to look at her at this moment, even more to speak to her; you can’t imagine forgiving her for what she has done. You would never, ever do that to her.
You never leave your keys behind, it probably gives her hope that you’ll come back. And you will, just not when she is there. You have to get the rest of your stuff someday.
Closing the front door was the most heartbreaking thing that you ever did. She knows it; too, that’s why she tried to talk you out of it when you stepped closer to the entrance.
You get in your car when you rush out of the building ten minutes later. You curse yourself for buying an apartment on the seventh floor in the building that has an elevator that barely ever works. After a few moments, you start driving to the nearest hotel and soon remember that was the place you stayed in when you first moved to New York. You pass the hotel soon, not wanting to bring back any memories of her, even though they were happy and could possibly bring you out of the funk you fell in just a little more than an hour ago, when she picked you up at the airport.
Sometime later, you find yourself pulling over in a parking lot of some filthy motel. It doesn’t matter anyway; you’ll find a place to live in soon and you’ll need some extra money for furniture. You are usually one of those people who plan things way too much but you never planned this. You never planned moving out of your home.
-
Being in a motel didn’t stop you from thinking of the times with her. Mostly happy times, as opposed to the sorrow that you were in at the moment.
You reflect on the way she looks at you. Her expression was always telling you loving things that she did not hold for herself.
The way she told you those things you saw in every night before you fell asleep made your heart warm. Every time that she did it, too, no exceptions.
The way that she laughs came on your mind very often, even when you hired a realtor. That was the thing that gave you a hint about being in love with her. The sweet sound of her chuckling at first and then that growing a little until she relented into the laugh completely.
Many things came to your mind before you finally found a new apartment to live in.
-
It’s been a few days since you moved out. You already bought a new apartment. It doesn’t feel like home, like it should, but it’s cozy and not too big, just like you wanted it to be.
You decided to go to her place that day. You were so sure, but so wrong, that she would be at her show that night; she always was at that time. You clearly remembered the opening night of the show; she was stunning and preformed wonderfully. You were so proud to have someone like her to call your girlfriend. Now, you take it all back.
You turned your key in the lock and swiftly walked into the flat. You heard the TV the moment you came in and you realized that she was there.
“I thought you would be out. I came to pick up the rest of my stuff.” You said in a low tone and exited the living room. It still hurts, you noted to yourself at that moment. You rushed to your old room and rapidly put your things in the bags that you brought. She didn’t move anything, you noticed after opening the well known closet. You think back to the time you chose it. She ended up sleeping on the couch for the first time since you moved in the apartment after a heated argument. It was silly, you now know that now. And still, she never failed to grant any wish you had from that night on. She was as perfect as someone could get. Maybe not for everyone but what mattered is that she was for you.
It took you half an hour to get all your things ready. You noticed that she didn’t even move from the couch since you came. She probably knew that you’ve set your mind up to this tonight. There was nothing that could possibly stop you from leaving once again.
She looked like he hadn’t slept in days; she had bags under her sad eyes, just like you did. You quickly snapped your head to the other side threw your keys on the coffee table and went to exit the apartment. She stopped you.
“I quit the show.” She simply said, gaining your attention but not for very long. Instead of answering, you walked out. It really didn’t change anything, she still did it.
-
The next time that you talked to her was when she came to your work place two months later. She apologized again and you accepted it along with some flowers. No, actually, it wasn’t just some flowers; the flowers were yellow lilies, your personal favorite. She knew that. After seven years, how could she not? You thanked her for the gesture, and she mentioned that she had a new show. But you knew that, of course. It was in the papers and you saw it the morning of the grand opening. You have seen it three times by now but you didn’t tell her that. She invited you to come and you politely declined, saying that you are too busy to go. Obviously, that wasn’t true, because you spent that night in some comfortable, old sweats and one of the oversized shirts you always used to sleep in when you were still with her. You drank a whole bottle of tequila, her favorite bottle. She has always had a thing for alcohol bottles; it was just what she liked to notice.
Seeing her again closely brought up some strong feelings and you chose to deal with the pain with the help of alcohol.
You realized it was a very bad idea the following morning. You woke up with a terrible headache and not even two pills helped. It wouldn’t be that way if she was there; she never let you get drunk. Not since the day one of your former relationship. You then remember how you got with; it was a beautiful night for both of you.
You were at your junior prom, drinking your second glass of the spiked punch. She approached you and complimented you and you just rudely ignored her. But that didn’t stop her, no. She talked about something that you didn’t even care enough to pay attention to. The only thing that you remember was that her voice was rather attractive for a girl that always talked too much. It wasn’t long before you silenced her with a kiss; shocking everyone in the room and making the singer stop his song in the middle.
She made you a better person; you’re not stupid enough to deny it. She was the one that got you out of the misery you were in that night. The one who brought hope and faith back to your life. The one who made your dorky smile from middle school come back when no one else could. The one that was your first love. Can you ever truly get over your first love?
-
A half a year, a hundred and twenty-three bouquets of lilies, six apology letters and thirteen seen shows later, you spoke with her again. This time, it was you who initiated it.
It was just after the thirteenth show you have seen, in her dressing room. You came in and congratulated her and after thanking you, she let the silence take over the room. It was tense in there and it seemed like none of you planned on speaking any time soon.
You approached her a couple of minutes later and put your hands around her waist and held her closely for a few moments. She didn’t make any move except for wrapping her arms around you; she was probably too shocked or scared to do anything else. Soon, you parted a little from the hug and pressed your lips against hers in a quick motion. She brought her tongue to your lips, as if asking for permission to enter and you let her, starting a battle for dominance between you two. Your tongues danced together for a long while; none of you was ready to let go. It felt the same as always; your heart raced from joy and you then realized that it would be hard to stop loving her. She let a single tear roll down his cheek and you felt it once it collided with your arm.
You soon remembered why you were actually there and parted fully away from her. You nervously pulled your shirt, the one with some silly drawings that you remember wearing when you two went to your first real date, and let your head fall down, letting you examine a hole on the floor; much more interesting, you thought at that moment. But you knew you had to do this once you came into the room. You let a silent tear or two fall down at the moment you turned around to leave, stopping only once you reached the door.
“It would be easier for me to get over you if you didn’t send flowers every day.” You say as coldly as you can and promptly leave the room, letting the tears you’ve been holding back finally fall down as you walked away from everything you two had. Easier to get over you; these five words float through your mind while you wonder if it will actually help at all.
-