The Way You Say Good Morning (3/?)
Title: The Way You Say Good Morning (3/?)
Everything was a haze of soft and warmth, Quinn had always sought for comfort. It started to feel like something that she shouldn’t have ever since she joined Sue Sylvester’s herd of fire blazing red uniformed cheerios that dominated McKinley High. And, of course, she was too busy being totally Head Bitch In Charge to seek for anything. Everything in her life would totally be of a cliché Disney teen antagonist except that she didn’t really want to be ‘good’ deep, deep down or whatever.
She always felt some sort of delightful satisfaction to watch everyone curl away in fear like it was some sort of sick sadistic game.
One person, in particular, was the one that Quinn always favoured to torture. Rachel Berry. She didn’t just do it because she felt like it. Sometimes, it just seemed like Rachel was calling for it, prompting her to do it and she reacted like a brainless predator that would jump any chance without a second thought. And that had been part of a pattern, she would insult the girl with every chance given and without a second thought because that’s how it’s supposed to be.
But then she catches a small glimpse of hurt in the other girl’s face when she laughed and lingered around a little too long. Then, she catches other people doing the things that she does and her laughter starts to become forced than anything because it’s only okay when she does it.
Then, it didn’t take long before her boyfriend joined the glee club and started talking about the other girl without seeing the anger flare in the blonde’s eyes.
Quinn felt too ashamed to admit feeling jealousy when Finn joined that stupid club because Rachel is not alone in her locker anymore and she just feels obligated to throw insults and bribe Karofsky and Puckerman to slushy the girl although she doesn’t get the same hit of adrenaline like she usually would. Nor any comfort that the diva was feeling worse than she felt herself.
Quinn felt too ashamed that every time Finn would drive her, she hears herself demanding to take the road that would pass by Rachel Berry’s house even though it’s a longer way.
Too ashamed with the fact that she knows where Rachel Berry lives and that her eyes would always dart to the right window up (knowing it’s the brunette’s because it looked like a Pepto Bismol had just hurled all over the walls) to catch a glimpse of stupid and argyle.
The worst, most shameful act is when she finds herself drunkenly climbing the tree in front of Rachel Berry’s window in the middle of the night. And even though her back ached along with the throbbing in her head the next morning, she came back the next night.
Everything is so perfect and there would be no problem at all if Finn didn’t start liking Rachel and Quinn herself feels like she doesn’t care if he cheats on her. Just not with Rachel. It would all be perfect if every single morning of bliss weren’t followed by trepidation.
The birds are chirping happily and a sweet smell fills her senses. The freezing temperature of the room is balanced perfectly with the warm body that was pressed against hers. It was the same way she felt every morning that seems like a borderline between being under the influence of an illegal substance and a bittersweet churning in her stomach. It was the same feeling right before she would dart out of the bedroom and back to her own. It was even painful that her parents had been too oblivious that she could literally die in her room and they wouldn’t find out until the next morning when she doesn’t show up in their “perfect family morning breakfast”.
Quinn knows it’s only a few minutes before the brunette would stir awake and that she had to get away. Fast. But she makes the mistake of looking at the other girl and her hand seems to have its own mind because it’s stroking velvety brown locks without her even knowing it. Rachel Berry looked so different when she was sleeping; maybe it was because she wasn’t all crazy and obnoxious and it could also be that she actually looked relax and content rather than the usual look of unsatisfaction when someone would hit a wrong note in glee club.
Small arms encircled around her waist and hugged her tighter, and damn because the sweet smell of Rachel Berry’s shampoo kept her still and unmoving.
"Quinn" The sound was so quiet that it didn't startle the peaceful tranquility.
“Don’t go.” The sound is soft and muffled. It’s a command more than anything because Rachel Berry is stubborn and she doesn’t like to beg.
The blonde stills, her heart is palpitating like a motorboat and she wonders when she became this mushy. This situation is something she tried to avoid, because she doesn’t think she can leave right after those words were muttered.
So she doesn’t answer.
The brunette looks up.
Her face is so close and Quinn isn’t exactly comfortable, neither was she uncomfortable because most of those times that she spent with the brunette was with her eyes closed or with darkness succumbing the whole room. She finally understood how it was in the movies when the two lead roles inch their faces close right before the first, perfect kiss. Her face is inching and her earlier experience only involved making out because it was something she had to do with Finn because that’s what boyfriend and girlfriends do.
The smaller girl smiles, Quinn hopes she opens her mouth and says something to break this spell because she couldn’t physically stop herself from smashing her lips to the other girl’s. She never really liked slow motion.
Everything else was frantic after that.
Everything was a haze of soft and warmth, Quinn had always sought for comfort. It started to feel like something that she shouldn’t have ever since she joined Sue Sylvester’s herd of fire blazing red uniformed cheerios that dominated McKinley High. And, of course, she was too busy being totally Head Bitch In Charge to seek for anything. Everything in her life would totally be of a cliché Disney teen antagonist except that she didn’t really want to be ‘good’ deep, deep down or whatever.
She always felt some sort of delightful satisfaction to watch everyone curl away in fear like it was some sort of sick sadistic game.
One person, in particular, was the one that Quinn always favoured to torture. Rachel Berry. She didn’t just do it because she felt like it. Sometimes, it just seemed like Rachel was calling for it, prompting her to do it and she reacted like a brainless predator that would jump any chance without a second thought. And that had been part of a pattern, she would insult the girl with every chance given and without a second thought because that’s how it’s supposed to be.
But then she catches a small glimpse of hurt in the other girl’s face when she laughed and lingered around a little too long. Then, she catches other people doing the things that she does and her laughter starts to become forced than anything because it’s only okay when she does it.
Then, it didn’t take long before her boyfriend joined the glee club and started talking about the other girl without seeing the anger flare in the blonde’s eyes.
Quinn felt too ashamed to admit feeling jealousy when Finn joined that stupid club because Rachel is not alone in her locker anymore and she just feels obligated to throw insults and bribe Karofsky and Puckerman to slushy the girl although she doesn’t get the same hit of adrenaline like she usually would. Nor any comfort that the diva was feeling worse than she felt herself.
Quinn felt too ashamed that every time Finn would drive her, she hears herself demanding to take the road that would pass by Rachel Berry’s house even though it’s a longer way.
Too ashamed with the fact that she knows where Rachel Berry lives and that her eyes would always dart to the right window up (knowing it’s the brunette’s because it looked like a Pepto Bismol had just hurled all over the walls) to catch a glimpse of stupid and argyle.
The worst, most shameful act is when she finds herself drunkenly climbing the tree in front of Rachel Berry’s window in the middle of the night. And even though her back ached along with the throbbing in her head the next morning, she came back the next night.
Everything is so perfect and there would be no problem at all if Finn didn’t start liking Rachel and Quinn herself feels like she doesn’t care if he cheats on her. Just not with Rachel. It would all be perfect if every single morning of bliss weren’t followed by trepidation.
The birds are chirping happily and a sweet smell fills her senses. The freezing temperature of the room is balanced perfectly with the warm body that was pressed against hers. It was the same way she felt every morning that seems like a borderline between being under the influence of an illegal substance and a bittersweet churning in her stomach. It was the same feeling right before she would dart out of the bedroom and back to her own. It was even painful that her parents had been too oblivious that she could literally die in her room and they wouldn’t find out until the next morning when she doesn’t show up in their “perfect family morning breakfast”.
Quinn knows it’s only a few minutes before the brunette would stir awake and that she had to get away. Fast. But she makes the mistake of looking at the other girl and her hand seems to have its own mind because it’s stroking velvety brown locks without her even knowing it. Rachel Berry looked so different when she was sleeping; maybe it was because she wasn’t all crazy and obnoxious and it could also be that she actually looked relax and content rather than the usual look of unsatisfaction when someone would hit a wrong note in glee club.
Small arms encircled around her waist and hugged her tighter, and damn because the sweet smell of Rachel Berry’s shampoo kept her still and unmoving.
"Quinn" The sound was so quiet that it didn't startle the peaceful tranquility.
“Don’t go.” The sound is soft and muffled. It’s a command more than anything because Rachel Berry is stubborn and she doesn’t like to beg.
The blonde stills, her heart is palpitating like a motorboat and she wonders when she became this mushy. This situation is something she tried to avoid, because she doesn’t think she can leave right after those words were muttered.
So she doesn’t answer.
The brunette looks up.
Her face is so close and Quinn isn’t exactly comfortable, neither was she uncomfortable because most of those times that she spent with the brunette was with her eyes closed or with darkness succumbing the whole room. She finally understood how it was in the movies when the two lead roles inch their faces close right before the first, perfect kiss. Her face is inching and her earlier experience only involved making out because it was something she had to do with Finn because that’s what boyfriend and girlfriends do.
The smaller girl smiles, Quinn hopes she opens her mouth and says something to break this spell because she couldn’t physically stop herself from smashing her lips to the other girl’s. She never really liked slow motion.
Everything else was frantic after that.