Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers and creators.

A/N: I still don't know where this came from.

A Letter to One Miss Quinn Fabray

Dear Quinn,

Why is yours the only name that wants to fall from my lips?

I know you're already probably a mixture of annoyed by my dramatics and confused by my question, perhaps to the point where you're about to fold this back up and send it to the depths of your garbage can. If I ever gather the guts to send this to you, of course. I rather doubt I will, which may surprise you, but you're the only person who ever makes me nervous. It's rather bothersome, actually, though I'm sure it'll please you well enough.

Anyway, I'm not being dramatic. I'm genuinely curious.

Why is it that when I'm sitting next to the boy of my dreams, the recently renewed love of my life, over a meal of sickeningly greasy roller rink pizza, all I want to do is ask him how you're taking the breakup?

Why, when I'm sleeping over at a friend's house for only the third time in my entire life, do I want to ask them if they watched the movie we're about to sob over together with you, when you lived under Mercedes' roof?

Why is it that when I see Santana and Brittany on those rare occasions when we're both frequenting the local mall, all I want to do is ask where you are?

Let me be clear: it's not as though I stalk you. It just seems that I can't stop talking about you. Or, really, thinking about you. I wonder about your preferences, think about how beautiful you would look in this or that. How beautiful you are all on your own.

Do you know how long it took me to design the perfect wrist corsage for you to wear at your precious prom? I don't even know why I thought about it, but I did. I decided long before Finn came to me that it was the best, which of course you deserved. I was so happy I was able to give it to you, even indirectly.

I don't know why, about any of it.

Perhaps I just can't get enough of your beautiful name.

Or perhaps I just can't get enough of you.


Rachel Berry