There is a Part I Can't Tell: Will/Quinn, T
Title: There is a Part I Can't Tell (Prologue)
Author: beautyofwilting
Pairing: Will Schuester/Quinn Fabray
Summary: Sometimes, the best stories aren't really stories at all; they're just bits and pieces that all seem to fall into place. Quinn/Will.
Rating: T
Word count: ...
Spoilers: vary by chapter. None.
Disclaimer: I do not own GLEE, Spring Awakening, "Teddy Bear", or Full House. I am merely writing for enjoyment.
Author's Note: Spring Awakening fans should recognize the title to be part of "The Dark I Know Well", which is certainly not a cheerful song. As off-putting as it may be, it sounds beautiful and circles through my mind. I don't sing it off the sloping hills of California because it definitely will not sound exactly the way it should to everyone. Some people may find it inappropriate, some may find it downright unacceptable, and some might just love it. How fitting then for that to go with a story about a student/teacher relationship, a relationship that is usually seen negatively.
This will be my longest Author's Note and I apologize for that. This story is not told conventionally. It is in second person and will be told through scenes of varying time periods. They all fit together, telling the tale of Will and Quinn, the way I see it. This first thing was written today, is un-beta'ed, and is waiting just below. I thank you for putting up with my long AN and hope you enjoy the prologue and review.
---
Prologue:
The whole thing feels very 90s television. Still, you grin and pretend like you aren't watching him sing to her.
"Baby, let me be, your loving teddy bear. Put a chain around my neck, and lead me anywhere. Oh let me be, your teddy bear. I don't want to be your tiger, 'cause tiger's play too rough. Don't want to be your lion, 'cause lion's ain't the kind you love enough. Oh let me be, oh let me be, your teddy bear."
Will turns from your daughter, catching gaze with you. You step up to him and wrap your arms around him.
"It'll be years before she can do this," you say, "But when she gets to, I doubt you'll ever need to ask her to hold onto you. No one would ever want to let you go."
He puts himself into the hug.
The two of you stay this way for a while, just holding each other and breathing. Hugs like this make things seem so simple. Everything feels like it amounts to nothing. What is there outside of these arms? What is there not in this hold? What is there that could possibly matter more?
"You really shouldn't say things like that, Quinn," he says. Something stings inside as once again he says what you've heard too many times.
"I-"
"Do you know how hard it is for me? Do you have any idea how hard it is to live with you, to be near you, to see you, and hold you, and not do anything?"
You almost expect him to pull away. Yet, he stays tight against you, talking into the air above your head.
"Quinn, they call me a man-whore, with good reason as I've shown. Everyone knows that I am horrible with relationships. I've really only had one, and we all know how that turned out. I can't do this. I can't ruin this."
"You won't," you tell him.
"I will. It's in my nature. You can't keep saying these amazingly sincere things to me. You can't walk around in those short outfits. You can't crawl into my bed just because you had a bad dream. I can't be with you, Quinn. I just can't."
He has tears in his eyes; you can hear them in his voice. Strained yet determined, his speech wavers. These are the times where you remember old sayings about actions and words. Your mother used to get you to do nice things instead of just saying it because the things you did were supposed to mean more. This led to charity, and church choir, and spending obnoxiously long amounts of time with your grandparents. Now, the thought leads to something that matters more to you.
Slowly, you scoot up. Your gazes intertwine as you slide to his face. You start in, and your lips meet.
It's soft. Simple. Sad.
He sniffles. Cold drops hit your skin. You pull away.
"I forgive you," you tell him, "I love you. And, I forgive you. I need you. And, I forgive you."
He goes to step back, but you hold on tighter.
"Let me go," he says. He doesn't even sound like he believes himself anymore. He's weak, grasping for what he can.
"I can't," you say. When he tries again to move, you say it again. "I can't!"
It echoes through the room. The lingering pain could be considered the aftermath of an action. Aftermath of the one action that Will decided to take that put you guys on an even more complicated path.
Your life is not a 90s television show. He is not Uncle Jesse, your daughter is not Michelle, and you will never be Becky. Instead, you are just one of the many girls who fell for the guy with the good hair but never got to keep him. You don't get to marry him, or live with the family, or go to Disney World, or have his kids. All you get are sad memories of kisses that really shouldn't have happened.
He disentangles your bodies and moves away. He crosses to Aubrey and brushes a finger through her hair.
"You made her. You and Puck, of all people, created the most beautiful girl in the world. You don't need me," he tells you, "And that's how it should be. I think it'd be best if you started looking for a place."
Maybe your mom didn't lie all those years ago; maybe your teddy bear really can run away from you. Or better yet, it can remain in the spot you find too painful to recall.
The bedroom door closes behind you. It's ominous. Objective. Over.
Author: beautyofwilting
Pairing: Will Schuester/Quinn Fabray
Summary: Sometimes, the best stories aren't really stories at all; they're just bits and pieces that all seem to fall into place. Quinn/Will.
Rating: T
Word count: ...
Spoilers: vary by chapter. None.
Disclaimer: I do not own GLEE, Spring Awakening, "Teddy Bear", or Full House. I am merely writing for enjoyment.
Author's Note: Spring Awakening fans should recognize the title to be part of "The Dark I Know Well", which is certainly not a cheerful song. As off-putting as it may be, it sounds beautiful and circles through my mind. I don't sing it off the sloping hills of California because it definitely will not sound exactly the way it should to everyone. Some people may find it inappropriate, some may find it downright unacceptable, and some might just love it. How fitting then for that to go with a story about a student/teacher relationship, a relationship that is usually seen negatively.
This will be my longest Author's Note and I apologize for that. This story is not told conventionally. It is in second person and will be told through scenes of varying time periods. They all fit together, telling the tale of Will and Quinn, the way I see it. This first thing was written today, is un-beta'ed, and is waiting just below. I thank you for putting up with my long AN and hope you enjoy the prologue and review.
---
Prologue:
The whole thing feels very 90s television. Still, you grin and pretend like you aren't watching him sing to her.
"Baby, let me be, your loving teddy bear. Put a chain around my neck, and lead me anywhere. Oh let me be, your teddy bear. I don't want to be your tiger, 'cause tiger's play too rough. Don't want to be your lion, 'cause lion's ain't the kind you love enough. Oh let me be, oh let me be, your teddy bear."
Will turns from your daughter, catching gaze with you. You step up to him and wrap your arms around him.
"It'll be years before she can do this," you say, "But when she gets to, I doubt you'll ever need to ask her to hold onto you. No one would ever want to let you go."
He puts himself into the hug.
The two of you stay this way for a while, just holding each other and breathing. Hugs like this make things seem so simple. Everything feels like it amounts to nothing. What is there outside of these arms? What is there not in this hold? What is there that could possibly matter more?
"You really shouldn't say things like that, Quinn," he says. Something stings inside as once again he says what you've heard too many times.
"I-"
"Do you know how hard it is for me? Do you have any idea how hard it is to live with you, to be near you, to see you, and hold you, and not do anything?"
You almost expect him to pull away. Yet, he stays tight against you, talking into the air above your head.
"Quinn, they call me a man-whore, with good reason as I've shown. Everyone knows that I am horrible with relationships. I've really only had one, and we all know how that turned out. I can't do this. I can't ruin this."
"You won't," you tell him.
"I will. It's in my nature. You can't keep saying these amazingly sincere things to me. You can't walk around in those short outfits. You can't crawl into my bed just because you had a bad dream. I can't be with you, Quinn. I just can't."
He has tears in his eyes; you can hear them in his voice. Strained yet determined, his speech wavers. These are the times where you remember old sayings about actions and words. Your mother used to get you to do nice things instead of just saying it because the things you did were supposed to mean more. This led to charity, and church choir, and spending obnoxiously long amounts of time with your grandparents. Now, the thought leads to something that matters more to you.
Slowly, you scoot up. Your gazes intertwine as you slide to his face. You start in, and your lips meet.
It's soft. Simple. Sad.
He sniffles. Cold drops hit your skin. You pull away.
"I forgive you," you tell him, "I love you. And, I forgive you. I need you. And, I forgive you."
He goes to step back, but you hold on tighter.
"Let me go," he says. He doesn't even sound like he believes himself anymore. He's weak, grasping for what he can.
"I can't," you say. When he tries again to move, you say it again. "I can't!"
It echoes through the room. The lingering pain could be considered the aftermath of an action. Aftermath of the one action that Will decided to take that put you guys on an even more complicated path.
Your life is not a 90s television show. He is not Uncle Jesse, your daughter is not Michelle, and you will never be Becky. Instead, you are just one of the many girls who fell for the guy with the good hair but never got to keep him. You don't get to marry him, or live with the family, or go to Disney World, or have his kids. All you get are sad memories of kisses that really shouldn't have happened.
He disentangles your bodies and moves away. He crosses to Aubrey and brushes a finger through her hair.
"You made her. You and Puck, of all people, created the most beautiful girl in the world. You don't need me," he tells you, "And that's how it should be. I think it'd be best if you started looking for a place."
Maybe your mom didn't lie all those years ago; maybe your teddy bear really can run away from you. Or better yet, it can remain in the spot you find too painful to recall.
The bedroom door closes behind you. It's ominous. Objective. Over.