Glee Oneshots

not too late

What have I done?
Oh no.
No no no.
This is bad.

I've broken many hearts. Too many. And I've not felt much remorse. They were all dumb boys.

But this is a dumb girl. A beautiful, funny, dumb girl. And she's currently lying beside me in bed, her dress in a crumpled heap on the floor.

My name is Quinn Fabray. And I have possibly just made the best worst decision of my life. And to be honest, I've made enough for there to be quite the competition.

And the girl was Santana Lopez. That's all you need to know right now.

I can't break her heart. She's hurt. She falls in love, and gives them everything. Then she can't leave them, and they just keep taking from her, until she's too exhausted to go on.

And I love her. She's my day one. I know everything about her. And we fight a lot. But I know that, if I was to ever need someone to talk to, then she would be there.

That's why I'm so annoyed and worried right now. I think that I've broken our perfect friendship, by getting drunk and sleeping with her.

I don't regret sleeping with her. It's the best sex I've ever had. And at the time, it felt right. She was hurt, from seeing her ex getting all up in her new boyfriend, while they were dancing.

It started off as holding hands, which led to dancing together. Then she was on my lap, and then she was kissing my cheek. And we were both laughing, and everything was tinted in a warm rosy light.

I may have fallen slightly in love.

I go into the hotel bathroom. The light is harsh, a contrast to earlier. I look at myself in the mirror. I look like someone who's just had sex. My hair, makeup, everything is a mess. But I also look happy.

I won't argue with that. I'm happiest I've been in months. I wanted to go to Yale to escape myself, and become a new person. But everyone there knows each other, and I feel left out. And my roommate thinks I'm a bitch, just because I never talk to her.

Being back here, I felt at home. The same people. The same places that I grew up in, and I felt like I relaxed for the first time in months. There's a comfort about Lima, and I'll always have a place here. And it will always have a place in my heart.

Same with Santana. We've been friends, best friends, deadly enemies, barely friends, and strangers. And now there's friends-with-benefits to add to the list. There's something that just keeps pulling us back together, an invisible bond. I've given up trying to fight it; there's no point anymore.

But did I let it pull me too far? Because I think I might love her, more than I've ever loved anyone else. That's the truth, as much as it pains me to say.

Though I'm not sure if it counts for anything, considering I've never been in love before. I've done the flirting, and the sex. And I've tried with the feelings, but I never have enough effort to put in.

Tonight, I did them all together. And I had love, in my once-cold heart.

I run a brush through my hair, until it falls in loose waves past my shoulders. I get a wave of déjà vu. Last time my hair was this length, I was in a hotel with Santana in the room beside me.

I let her cut half of my hair off. Her and Brittany, working together, sharing looks across the top of my head. I pretended that I couldn't see them, the same way I pretended they didn't climb in bed with each other every damn night in New York.

Looking back, I should have gone to them when I first started having...thoughts...about other girls. They wouldn't have judged me, and I could have talked to them about it. But of course I had to keep all my secrets, and pretend that I enjoyed the sweat and stubble that was teenage boys.

If Santana had ever noticed anything, then she hadn't said it. But maybe she had caught me looking in the locker rooms. Or it could have been her that started the rumour that I, of all people, had a massive crush on Berry.

I didn't. No matter how many times people ask me, the answer is always the same. Yes, she is a very pretty girl. No, I don't want to date her. It's been especially bad at this wedding, considering I danced with Santana. People have decided that makes me a lesbian. I mean, I am one, but not because I danced with a girl.

I often wonder what life would have been like if I was always open about my sexuality. At Yale, everyone is so snobby and awful. I've made one friend, and everyone else just has to hear that I'm from Lima, then I'm irrelevant.

But my friend is cool. Her name is Amelie, and she's from France. She speaks English and French, has a collection of black and white movies, and plays the piano like a pro. And we dated for approximately 2 months, until we realised that we were better as friends. Best friends.

But the time we spent together was the best. We would meet at cafes all around campus, and go to the library to read each other's favourite books. She listened to me when I spoke, and when I tried to talk about who I used to be, she just nodded and didn't push me.

It was perfect, but there was no spark. And we both knew it, so we ended it.

Amélie wouldn't like Santana. She would find her too loud, and irritating, and full of herself. But I love Santana's confidence, and her singing, and her whole personality.

I could date Santana. Obviously I would have to check that she's up for it, but I'm pretty sure that she doesn't have a reason to say no. But she might say no just to be awkward, or because she's secretly terrified of love.

Yeah. She doesn't think that anyone can tell. But I know how she panics whenever anyone gets too close to her, physically and emotionally.

She's a fascinating person. All hidden depths. I could spend hours talking about the different personas she adopts, depending on what she wants.

Or I could talk about the real Santana. The sweet girl who loves people, even if they're the wrong person for her. She would literally take a bullet for them. Unfortunately, they always seem to be the one holding the gun.

I could love her. I wouldn't hurt her, I promise. I'll listen to her, and not force her into anything. I'm fine with keeping us a secret, but I'll take her home to meet my mother, if that's what she wants.

God. I've not even asked her out yet, and I'm already planning our relationship. Is that a good sign?

There's no harm in asking. If she says no, I could just laugh it off. Say that it's too much wine, or I'm tired, or still in awe of my 'first' sapphic relationship.

I might not mention Amélie right now. It might ruin the effect.

But I'll ask her. It won't be anything fancy, just dinner and a movie somewhere in the city. Not in Lima, definitely not. New York, or somewhere in the next town.

I can do this. I know what love is meant to look like, and I know what it doesn't look like.

Santana could be the one for me. I don't believe in soulmates, but I might start. Because with every turn of my life, Santana has been there. I wish I had realised it sooner, but I know now. Hopefully it's not too late.

Of course it's not. I'm a miracle worker. I walked, when I was told I wouldn't. I've performed onstage, while having contractions. I got into Yale, despite missing a chunk of school. I'm Quinn Fabray. I'll make this work.

As my mind clears, one thing is present. I love Santana Lopez. And maybe she likes me back.
I guess there's only one way to find out.