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SPOILERS: Every episode of Glee.

Who Do You Think You Are?
By gidge


Part 4

Don't you know I'm not your ghost anymore?

You lost the love I loved the most...

My breathing has stopped, I think, as I watch the love of my life, Quinn Fabray, as still as possible in front of me. She's standing with her back to me, but I know if I were to look into her eyes right now, those gorgeous bits of hazel would be near to overflowing with tears.

I can't believe she's going to pretend like nothing's going on. Maybe that's really how she feels…

"Quinn," I repeat myself, thinking it will make her snap out of whatever trance she is in. "You need to talk to me. I need to talk to you. This has to be sorted out or I'll go crazy."

She still isn't moving. I feel her shoulder shake slightly and I grab her to turn her body to face me.

Screw this avoidance crap.

I see her beautiful face stained with tears, the sadness evident in her features, but the hard look that I've seen for years in the hallways of McKinley High is still there, unwavering.

It was at that moment that I knew Quinn Fabray was going to break my heart.

"Quinn…" And then I stutter, tripping over my own words. "P-please don't cry…"

"Berry. You need to leave. Right. Now." The tone of her voice is like ice in my veins.

"No. Quinn, we need to talk about this…I need to talk about this! What were you doing? What are you thinking? Why is this—"

"I'm thinking that if you don't leave this house immediately I'll have to call the pound to have you taken away!"

That harsh voice cuts into me, maiming my soul. Normally such a small insult like that would barely phase me, but my emotions are out of sync right now. There's no way I'm just going to give into the petty behavior. She's trying to mask her pain. I refuse to let go of this.

"Screw that!" I shout at her, throwing her off balance in just a moment, allowing me to be aggressive.

"You care! You care and that's why you're freaking out!" I breathe out, watching her face twist in contortion, melding itself into something unrecognizable. I can only imagine it's the perfect equilibrium of anger and anguish; all on those beautiful features.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she says, voice as cold as ice.

I definitely pushed a button.

I smirk to myself, looking at her clench her fists, set on the borderline of breathing fire, all perfectly kept under the façade of a cool exterior.

"You want to do those, those th-things with me because," I look down, hesitating to form the right words, and move my eyes back up to look into hers and taking a deep breath. "Because you like doing them! And you like me! I can feel it every time you touch me…"

I reach out my hand to grasp her arm and lightly touch her forearm, trying to pull her closer.

Wrenching her arm free, she wipes off some of the remaining tears and looks me dead in the eyes.

"That's disgusting. It's immoral and I'll have no part of what you and your family bring into this town."

Standing there, breathing heavy with a tear-stained face, I suddenly have no doubt in my mind that I'm right. And that even if Quinn wants to act on her feelings, her family-life has affected how she sees the world…and herself. Oh, the amount of convincing it'll take to fix that!

I lunge at her, grabbing her face in my hands and pulling her close. Her lips are like heaven and I never want to stop kissing her, but it ends all too soon when she pulls away. She stays close.

"I care about you, Quinn. I like doing those things with you, too," I say, my voice almost a whisper. I hesitate, taking a deep breath and looking at her still cold expression with its lingering look of curiosity.

"I've kind of loved you since eighth grade…" I look at her hesitantly, hoping for this to be some shocking moment where we both confess our undying love and ride off into the sunset with horses. Or at least get to make out on her bed some more.

But this is Lima, Ohio. And the blonde in question; none other than Quinn Fabray.

She pulls back faster than a jolt of lightning and runs into her bathroom, slamming the door behind her.


Jostled, feeling more stoic than I have in my entire life, I turn toward the door and leave, closing it behind me. Walking down the stairs and out of the house, my vision starts to blur. I reach my hand up to my eyes and realize my face is damp. I'm crying. The tears won't stop as I make my way home, my head hung down, and I wonder exactly how much damage I've just done.

Part 5

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