Fic: No Happy Endings (1/1)
Title: No Happy Endings
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: R for themes
Spoilers: Nope.
WARNINGS: Character Death(s)
Summary: Taking a shot at this prompt. Please read it first - the title is very literal in this case, and there's not much but bleakness here, I was in that sort of mood...
Santana ran. A single sheet of computer paper fluttered in the breeze behind her, coming to rest in a muddy puddle so that only one word remained visible - goodbye. She ran, her trainers pounding across the thawing ground of a spring day in Lima, her breath coming in harsh gasps, her jacket hastily discarded as unnecessary bulk. She could feel her phone buzzing against her thigh, but she knew both what the call was about and who was calling, and she had neither the time nor the breath to answer it. She thought idly that it was raining, only realising as she trailed a hand across her face that what she’d taken for raindrops were tears instead.
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“San, please.”
“Q, there is no chance. It’s not my fault, or Britt’s, that you and the hobbit decided to out yourselves to the whole school. Think about what you’re asking - you want me and Britt to take all the shit you’ve been taking, just because you’re tired of taking it alone? Look, I’m sorry about what you’re going through, but I can’t help you.”
“You can. You just won’t. Because you’re finally the head Cheerio.”
“No! Because I don’t want threats and drunk dials and people throwing stuff through Britt’s window, Quinn! If it was just me, I might think about it, I can take care of myself! But Britt’s - well, you know how she is. She looks for the best in people, and someone would use that to hurt her, and it would be my fault. I won’t be responsible for that. And shame on you for asking her to take that on herself.”
“Fine. I get it, okay? Goodbye, San.”
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Finn ran. His phone lay in the dirt behind him, where it would be quickly stolen by the first bored teenager to walk by. Their eyes might linger on the email displayed on the screen, ignorant of its power and its meaning, closing it out with nary a glance at its one-word message - goodbye. He ran, still half-dressed in his football gear, across the field and past his stunned teammates, and if by chance there had been a college scout there, he may have won a scholarship on the spot - it was easily the fastest forty-yard dash he’d ever run. But there was no scout, no scholarship - only the desperation that drove him forward.
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“I don’t understand why you won’t help me.”
“Look, Rachel - I don’t know what you want me to say, okay? You’re my ex-girlfriend. You cheated on me. With my other ex-girlfriend. And now you want my help?”
“Finn, this isn’t about slushie facials anymore. Didn’t you see that cut on her face yesterday? And the way she’s walking? Someone’s going to kill her before this is over, and it’s like you don’t even care!”
“It’s not going to go that far. Sure, you guys are taking some crap, but it’ll pass, okay? I’m finally the quarterback again, and-“
“Is that what this is about? You’re willing to watch us go through this and not help at all because you don’t want to risk your popularity?”
“Don’t get judgey with me, Rach, you’d do the same thing if the tables were turned. You care about your popularity way more than I ever did. At least, you used to.”
“If you think I’d have watched you die slowly without trying to help, then I guess it’s a good thing we broke up - because you never really knew me at all. Goodbye, Finn.”
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Kurt ran. His Dalton Academy blazer and tie were discarded, his Marc Jacobs bag tossed aside. Behind him he could hear Blaine calling after him, but he couldn’t stop to answer. He was grateful for his shoe selection that morning - function over fashion, at least as much as he would ever make that concession. He looked again at his phone, the single text like a lonely cry in the dark. No more courage. Goodbye. He had run further than this, metaphorically, when he escaped from McKinley to Dalton, but even that flight hadn’t been this desperate. Even that escape hadn’t left his lungs burning, his face flushed and his cheeks wet with tears. This wasn’t a run for his life.
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“I wish there was more I could do. There are other schools, of course, but with Quinn’s family situation and the stretched finances of your own dads, Rachel, I’m not sure that’s an option.”
“I know - it’s okay, Kurt, really. You’ve been here for us to talk to, you’ve helped us as much as you can. And we appreciate it, more than we can say.”
“Is it getting any better? At all?”
“No. If anything, it’s getting worse. Yesterday, the Cheerios - not Santana and Brittany, but the rest of them - ganged up on her and held her fingers in a locker door while they slammed it shut. Said it was so she could never finger another girl. Three of them broke. I - I threw up just looking at it afterward.”
“Where was Sue? I thought she was being serious with me when she said she was anti-bullying.”
“She may have been, Kurt, I don’t know. But Quinn’s a special case with her. That day she kicked her off the Cheerios - I’ve seen her mad before, but she was actually evil that day. She did it in front of the whole squad. Said she didn’t want a sneaky gay on her squad, someone who’d be too busy looking up her teammates’ skirts to form a proper pyramid. Then she-“
“Rachel, it’s okay, you don’t have to-“
“I do! You have to know how bad it is. She made Quinn take her uniform off, right there on the field, and walk back to the locker room in her underwear.”
“God. Rachel, I’m so sorry - if I’d known how bad it would be for you both, I’d never have counselled you to-“
“No, no. Don’t say that. Whatever we’re going through, we’re going through it together, and we're going through it as ourselves. That’s got to count for something, right? Oh, it’s late - I’ve got to see Quinn before visiting hours are over.”
“Send her my best, okay?”
“I will, I promise. Goodbye, Kurt.”
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Puck ran. It was slower than he would have run before, of course. His ankle tended to ache in the damp weather, and as much as it hurt him to admit it, any chance of getting out of Lima on a football scholarship had likely disappeared that afternoon. But he pushed on as hard as he could, cursing loudly when the ankle threatened to give out on him, sparing it a disdainful glance and resuming his pace. It occurred to him that he’d left the library computer logged on, and that his email was open for the world to see, but he didn’t give that thought more than a few seconds’ attention. The message wouldn’t make sense to anyone but him, anyway. Sorry to let you down.
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“Puck, I-“
“Don’t say you’re sorry, Quinn. I don’t want to hear it.”
“I wasn’t going to! I was going to ask what the hell you were thinking!”
“I was thinking I’m tired of watching my baby mama and my fellow hot Jew getting the shit kicked out of them! I was thinking it’s about time someone in this town stood up and did something!”
“But you tried to fight the entire football team, Puck! You’re lucky they didn’t kill you!”
“Yeah, well - the odds would have been better if Finn had manned up. But Mike wasn’t there, and Artie couldn’t help, so that just left me.”
“You’re such an egghead.”
“Don’t cry, Q - come on, it’s okay. It’s just my ankle, it’ll be healed in six weeks.”
“I know - I just don’t know how much more either of us can take, you know? Like maybe it’d be easier if we just-“
“Don’t talk like that! I went to bat for you guys. Don’t let me down by doing anything stupid, okay?”
“Deal. Enjoy the awesome daytime TV, okay?”
“I’ll enjoy the chocolate you and Rach brought, I’ll say that.”
“Goodbye, Noah.”
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It should have been more than the four of them gathered there, they knew. There were so many people their lives had touched - teachers, students, parents. But in the eight months since they’d come out, in the eight months they’d been bullied - or tortured, more accurately - those people they’d touched had distanced themselves. No one wanted to make themselves a target, no one wanted to suffer alongside them. And so the four of them were the only ones they’d even sent their goodbyes to.
They were already cold when the four of them got there. Even in their last moments they’d clung to each other, both hoping desperately that what was to come was better than what had been. In the end, what they had been through was too much for them.
Rachel and Quinn ran.
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: R for themes
Spoilers: Nope.
WARNINGS: Character Death(s)
Summary: Taking a shot at this prompt. Please read it first - the title is very literal in this case, and there's not much but bleakness here, I was in that sort of mood...
Santana ran. A single sheet of computer paper fluttered in the breeze behind her, coming to rest in a muddy puddle so that only one word remained visible - goodbye. She ran, her trainers pounding across the thawing ground of a spring day in Lima, her breath coming in harsh gasps, her jacket hastily discarded as unnecessary bulk. She could feel her phone buzzing against her thigh, but she knew both what the call was about and who was calling, and she had neither the time nor the breath to answer it. She thought idly that it was raining, only realising as she trailed a hand across her face that what she’d taken for raindrops were tears instead.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“San, please.”
“Q, there is no chance. It’s not my fault, or Britt’s, that you and the hobbit decided to out yourselves to the whole school. Think about what you’re asking - you want me and Britt to take all the shit you’ve been taking, just because you’re tired of taking it alone? Look, I’m sorry about what you’re going through, but I can’t help you.”
“You can. You just won’t. Because you’re finally the head Cheerio.”
“No! Because I don’t want threats and drunk dials and people throwing stuff through Britt’s window, Quinn! If it was just me, I might think about it, I can take care of myself! But Britt’s - well, you know how she is. She looks for the best in people, and someone would use that to hurt her, and it would be my fault. I won’t be responsible for that. And shame on you for asking her to take that on herself.”
“Fine. I get it, okay? Goodbye, San.”
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Finn ran. His phone lay in the dirt behind him, where it would be quickly stolen by the first bored teenager to walk by. Their eyes might linger on the email displayed on the screen, ignorant of its power and its meaning, closing it out with nary a glance at its one-word message - goodbye. He ran, still half-dressed in his football gear, across the field and past his stunned teammates, and if by chance there had been a college scout there, he may have won a scholarship on the spot - it was easily the fastest forty-yard dash he’d ever run. But there was no scout, no scholarship - only the desperation that drove him forward.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I don’t understand why you won’t help me.”
“Look, Rachel - I don’t know what you want me to say, okay? You’re my ex-girlfriend. You cheated on me. With my other ex-girlfriend. And now you want my help?”
“Finn, this isn’t about slushie facials anymore. Didn’t you see that cut on her face yesterday? And the way she’s walking? Someone’s going to kill her before this is over, and it’s like you don’t even care!”
“It’s not going to go that far. Sure, you guys are taking some crap, but it’ll pass, okay? I’m finally the quarterback again, and-“
“Is that what this is about? You’re willing to watch us go through this and not help at all because you don’t want to risk your popularity?”
“Don’t get judgey with me, Rach, you’d do the same thing if the tables were turned. You care about your popularity way more than I ever did. At least, you used to.”
“If you think I’d have watched you die slowly without trying to help, then I guess it’s a good thing we broke up - because you never really knew me at all. Goodbye, Finn.”
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Kurt ran. His Dalton Academy blazer and tie were discarded, his Marc Jacobs bag tossed aside. Behind him he could hear Blaine calling after him, but he couldn’t stop to answer. He was grateful for his shoe selection that morning - function over fashion, at least as much as he would ever make that concession. He looked again at his phone, the single text like a lonely cry in the dark. No more courage. Goodbye. He had run further than this, metaphorically, when he escaped from McKinley to Dalton, but even that flight hadn’t been this desperate. Even that escape hadn’t left his lungs burning, his face flushed and his cheeks wet with tears. This wasn’t a run for his life.
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“I wish there was more I could do. There are other schools, of course, but with Quinn’s family situation and the stretched finances of your own dads, Rachel, I’m not sure that’s an option.”
“I know - it’s okay, Kurt, really. You’ve been here for us to talk to, you’ve helped us as much as you can. And we appreciate it, more than we can say.”
“Is it getting any better? At all?”
“No. If anything, it’s getting worse. Yesterday, the Cheerios - not Santana and Brittany, but the rest of them - ganged up on her and held her fingers in a locker door while they slammed it shut. Said it was so she could never finger another girl. Three of them broke. I - I threw up just looking at it afterward.”
“Where was Sue? I thought she was being serious with me when she said she was anti-bullying.”
“She may have been, Kurt, I don’t know. But Quinn’s a special case with her. That day she kicked her off the Cheerios - I’ve seen her mad before, but she was actually evil that day. She did it in front of the whole squad. Said she didn’t want a sneaky gay on her squad, someone who’d be too busy looking up her teammates’ skirts to form a proper pyramid. Then she-“
“Rachel, it’s okay, you don’t have to-“
“I do! You have to know how bad it is. She made Quinn take her uniform off, right there on the field, and walk back to the locker room in her underwear.”
“God. Rachel, I’m so sorry - if I’d known how bad it would be for you both, I’d never have counselled you to-“
“No, no. Don’t say that. Whatever we’re going through, we’re going through it together, and we're going through it as ourselves. That’s got to count for something, right? Oh, it’s late - I’ve got to see Quinn before visiting hours are over.”
“Send her my best, okay?”
“I will, I promise. Goodbye, Kurt.”
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Puck ran. It was slower than he would have run before, of course. His ankle tended to ache in the damp weather, and as much as it hurt him to admit it, any chance of getting out of Lima on a football scholarship had likely disappeared that afternoon. But he pushed on as hard as he could, cursing loudly when the ankle threatened to give out on him, sparing it a disdainful glance and resuming his pace. It occurred to him that he’d left the library computer logged on, and that his email was open for the world to see, but he didn’t give that thought more than a few seconds’ attention. The message wouldn’t make sense to anyone but him, anyway. Sorry to let you down.
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“Puck, I-“
“Don’t say you’re sorry, Quinn. I don’t want to hear it.”
“I wasn’t going to! I was going to ask what the hell you were thinking!”
“I was thinking I’m tired of watching my baby mama and my fellow hot Jew getting the shit kicked out of them! I was thinking it’s about time someone in this town stood up and did something!”
“But you tried to fight the entire football team, Puck! You’re lucky they didn’t kill you!”
“Yeah, well - the odds would have been better if Finn had manned up. But Mike wasn’t there, and Artie couldn’t help, so that just left me.”
“You’re such an egghead.”
“Don’t cry, Q - come on, it’s okay. It’s just my ankle, it’ll be healed in six weeks.”
“I know - I just don’t know how much more either of us can take, you know? Like maybe it’d be easier if we just-“
“Don’t talk like that! I went to bat for you guys. Don’t let me down by doing anything stupid, okay?”
“Deal. Enjoy the awesome daytime TV, okay?”
“I’ll enjoy the chocolate you and Rach brought, I’ll say that.”
“Goodbye, Noah.”
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It should have been more than the four of them gathered there, they knew. There were so many people their lives had touched - teachers, students, parents. But in the eight months since they’d come out, in the eight months they’d been bullied - or tortured, more accurately - those people they’d touched had distanced themselves. No one wanted to make themselves a target, no one wanted to suffer alongside them. And so the four of them were the only ones they’d even sent their goodbyes to.
They were already cold when the four of them got there. Even in their last moments they’d clung to each other, both hoping desperately that what was to come was better than what had been. In the end, what they had been through was too much for them.
Rachel and Quinn ran.