Can't Take My Eyes Off You || Quinntana

One

Quinn Fabray had achieved a seemingly perfect life. She was a top student at Yale, gaining the admiration of her peers and an invitation to a secret society. Every boy on campus was pining over her. Not a soul knew about her questionable past. And yet, something was missing. Despite all of the reasons she had to be happy, there was a pit in her stomach, a hole yearning to be filled.

So, when on a Friday afternoon, her study session was interrupted by a buzz from her phone, she was eager to see who was calling. She closed her textbook and got a closer look at the number. It was Santana. Santana was Quinn's best friend in high school, one third of the iconic "Unholy Trinity." They had been inseparable back then. But life changes a lot in college. The semester started off with frequent calls, but those turned to text messages, which slowly became few and far between. Come to think of it, Quinn couldn't remember the last time they'd talked. Now, however, her phone was buzzing away. Her chest tightened. Something must have been up.

"Hey Santana what's—"

Quinn's greeting was interrupted by a hysterical sob. She was taken aback.

"San, what's going on? Are you okay?"

Santana continued to cry, breathing in bursts and struggling to create words.

"I broke up with her, Q. I broke up with her. What have I done?"

Brittany. Santana had ended her relationship with her sweet, beautiful girlfriend. The two had been deeply in love in high school. It may have made the friend group dynamic a little weird, but Quinn never cared. She was just happy that her best friends were happy. But now, apparently, something drastic must have happened, because Santana was sobbing uncontrollably over the phone.

"Sorry I'm calling so suddenly. I didn't know who else to turn to. You can just hang up if you don't want to deal with this shi—"

It was just like Santana to undermine her feelings, avoiding pity at all costs. Talking about emotions wasn't easy for her.

"Breathe, San. Of course I'm not going to hang up. I'm coming over right now."

This took Santana by surprise. "Coming over? You're like ten hours away."

Looking back, Quinn would realize that Santana was right. It was ridiculous to drive ten hours just to comfort a friend. But something inside of the blonde knew that it was the right decision. She felt an invisible force pulling the friends together.

"It's fine. I can drive, and I don't have anything going on this weekend. Just let me message my mom so she knows to expect me."

Quinn quickly texted her mom, and to her surprise, it turned out she was on a weekend outing. Quinn had the house all to herself.

"San, where are you right now?"

"In the school parking lot."

"Drive to my place. There's a key to the back door under the doormat. You can wait for me there."

Santana continued to cry, but it sounded as if she started her car and began to drive. Quinn quickly grabbed a few belongings and did the same. They continued their phone call in silence, both simply taking in each other's company. The two had always had the kind of relationship that didn't require words. The silence wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. It was comforting.

Once Quinn heard the sound of Santana entering her house and the door swinging shut, she began to probe again.

"San, you don't have to talk if you aren't ready. But if you are, can you tell me what happened?"

Santana sighed and collapsed on Quinn's couch. She was still crying, but her body had begun to relax, her breathing becoming steadier.

"I was being a bad girlfriend to her. I never visited. I didn't have time to return her calls. And I think I felt an attraction to a girl on campus. I'd never cheat on her. Never. But I saw a girl, and we made eye contact and—

"And I didn't want to end up as one of those long distance relationships that falls to pieces when  someone eventually gives in and cheats. I love Britt too much for that. She's my everything. So I ended it. I can't believe I ended it."

On the last word, her voice cracked. She sounded absolutely heartbroken. Quinn grappled for the right words to say.

"I know how much you love her, Santana. You did the right thing. But I can only imagine how much it hurts. I'm so sorry."

Spending her high school years as quite the manipulator, Quinn had learned the art of choosing the perfect words to say. Back then, this skill had served her in winning votes for prom queen, but now, it helped her comfort her friend. Hearing this sentiment, Santana felt understood. She felt heard. Only two people ever had that effect on her: Quinn and, well, Brittany.

But Brittany was out of the picture now.

And so they continued to talk, and Quinn continued to drive, and hours continued to pass. For not having talked to each other in months, they were surprisingly in sync. After some time, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, and they reminisced about high school memories.

"Remember the first day of junior year?" Quinn asked.

"No shit I remember. You totally sold me out to Sue about my boob job," Santana replied, trying to sound angry, with a hint of a laugh escaping her.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I was in kind of a—weird place."

"Not as weird as when you died your hair pink and got the Ryan Seacrest tramp stamp," Santana teased.

"Hey, I totally pulled that look off!"

At this point, both girls were laughing their heads off. They really had been through a lot together.

"I really missed you, Quinn."

"I missed you, too."