Title: Like A Hand That Won't Stay On My Shoulder
Author: amaltheaz / pseudohuman
Pairing/s: Past Rachel/Quinn
Length: 1117 words
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or anybody in Glee. This is so not used for profit.
Author's Note: I didn't actually plan on writing this but I've been kind of in a weird mood today. This is from Quinn's point-of-view of how things have been since. I've put this together with CTTABTS in case I decide to write another one-shot in Rachel's point-of-view. It's ridiculously short (for me anyway) and if it seems chaotic and very convoluted, then... I totally meant to make it like that, lol. Ending is also kind of abrupt I think, but my muse had nothing more for me to say so I left it as is. Anything else I thought of adding just didn't look right.
Author's Note#2: No, it's not any happier. I'm sorry, :-/.
Like A Hand That Won't Stay On My Shoulder
As far as letters went, it wasn't really anything special. There weren't any flowery words, no vows of love for eternity, no declaring promises of crawling over molten coals to be with her, or walking to the ends of the earth for her. Quinn kept it anyway. In the small pocket of her purse, since that cold morning when she first read it, that piece of paper was safely tucked inside. It was easy to see that this letter had been opened, read and refolded so many times that the creases had by now bruised away most of the ink. But Quinn remembered what it said. There were only four words. So even if she couldn't see them anymore, she could never forget them.
"I love you too."
Quinn wanted to forget though. Wanted to forget how this note came to be in the first place; why it came to be. Wanted to erase from her mind, the elegant blue lines and cursive loops that had been tenderly etched in the early hours of the morning as she laid in bed, sleeping and blissfully unaware then of the cold that she would feel when she woke up later. Throwing the note away would have been useless as the words were forever seared into her brain and into her heart. The words became the blood that coursed through her veins, giving her the life to somehow pull through. The words were the water to her permanently thirsty soul.
They brought memories of desperate touches that skimmed over hot, sweaty flesh that ached to never stop wanting; of kiss swollen lips that left prints all over her body like a scar that would never fade; of a name that she had valiantly tried never to say out loud ever again since that night. A name that she had kept inside her heart, within the prison of her own lips. And her skin itched to feel the familiar press of that exquisite, tanned form against hers. Fingers twitched nervously, wanting nothing more than to brush through long, wavy chestnut locks.
Whenever Quinn closed her eyes, she saw herself lying in bed with the girl on top of her, giving her the smile that always shattered everything inside her, only to put it all back together again with a kiss. She felt those phantom touches tracing invisible paths over her sensitive flesh, feather-light and tender, threatening to break her with every graze. The brunette was like a ghost and Quinn could still hear the haunting echoes of her voice crooning beautiful words of love, of boundless passion and promises. She could still feel her singer's melody vibrating all the way through her body, a pleasant hum that she could still so very easily recall. Light breezes blowing over her made her think of heavy panted breaths in a locked room, of loud and wanton cries cutting through the silence. Quinn tried to onto the vision of her love with a fierce iron-like grip but the harsh light of reality always managed to pierced through the blissful dream. And only Quinn was still there. still living in that dream except that her arms were now empty as was her heart. There was no comfortable weight bearing down on her, no limbs tangled with hers and no heart beating against hers.
She saw her sometimes. Living in a small town, it wasn't exactly a hard task to know where the girl was, or what she was doing most of the time. Quinn couldn't stop herself. She wanted to see her. Seeing her made the burning pain inside Quinn recede just a little bit, just for those few moments. Until a whole new hurt took over, when all she wanted to do was to rush over and take the girl back in her arms and never let go. To get down on her knees and plead for her love to return. But Quinn feared that if she tried and somehow succeeded, she would inevitably ruin everything again and would land right back where she started.
Alone and yearning for a love that she was not capable of keeping.
Quinn knew her mistakes and she knew them well. She loved her brunette so much, knew in the deepest of her soul that she could never live without the girl, but Quinn was also so full of pride and hated that this love made everything seem so out of balance. She hated that she couldn't tell up from down and left from right anymore. So she would lash out without thinking, digging herself a very deep grave. The panic would fade. She would see what she had done and she would clearly see that she had hurt the person she needed the most in the world and she would beg for absolution. It was a pattern. For Quinn to push and pull away so constantly. For the brunette to welcome her back with sorrow in her eyes and a further battered heart. If only Quinn knew when it became too much and too far, when she began to lose out on love. Maybe she would have stopped.
The blonde could only take some comfort in the knowledge that the other girl loved her to be able to forgive her the many times before. And she knew if she could go back, she would replace all those hurtful words with things she had buried in her heart, deep inside because she was scared of appearing weak, of showing too much. There had been times when she would open her mouth, ready to say something that would declare her love but Quinn could never seem to find it in herself to say them. Simple things to say and it should have been easy before because she knew she felt them. And she knew that the brunette wouldn't have left her feeling vulnerable, wouldn't have her thinking that her feelings weren't reciprocated.
In flashbacks, she often saw herself looking deep into patient brown eyes when the words would fly up from her chest and into her throat, only to be stopped by insecurity. She remembered the bright spark in those dark eyes dulling with every word she never uttered; the fire that was steadily getting extinguished by her fear. If she had the courage and the strength, if she hadn't been so stupid and wasted her chances with her, Quinn would have grabbed her and tell her the meaningful truth that never should have been kept from her in the first place.
I miss you.
Now, they were all that she could think. Now, they were all she could feel.
And now, they were all she had left.
I can silence the voice in my head and hear you instead
Whisper and sing for me again, rise from the dead
Lauren Hoffman – Ghost You Know
- THE END -