Never asked to feel your halo (Faberry)

38: She Made Your Heart Melt.

The realization that Rachel wasn't just going to give into her this time struck her hard, snatching away the last ounce of control she had left over her own life and making her feel numb and hollow inside.

So, what else could she do, but lose control.

Why not? What was the point anyway? Being nice to Rachel Berry had only ever caused her stress – unnecessary stress, might she add – so honestly? Screw her! It felt good, it felt good at first, to type nasty, demeaning, vicious little half-truths and she stabbed out and sent the messages each time with a cruel triumph. She took pride in keeping the tone calm and dispassionate even though she was shaking so hard now her fingers skittered dangerously across the keyboard.

The pleasure in being mean didn't bring life back to the numbness in her heart and mind, but it did slowly begin to fill the hollow spaces in her head and chest. They filled with hate and anger and contempt, and then with a panicky feeling tinged with resentment and disgust. And then, finally, with such devastation and chilling shame that tears burned her eyes before streaming down her cheeks.

She knew she was being needlessly cruel but she couldn't stop herself. Rachel was right on that score, she could only be a bitch to the other girl, but she needed to be! She needed to push her away, because the alternative was begging for another chance and she just couldn't do that!

There was a moment when she thought she had Rachel on the ropes, she could feel the girl wavering through her words, but by then she felt too terrible about it all to push for advantage.

After she'd switched her computer off she cried, sobbing uncontrollably into her hands for a long time about the mess she was in and how she'd managed to make it even worse. She cried because Rachel had hurt her and she cried because she had hurt Rachel and then she cried some more because now the flood gates had opened she couldn't close them again.

She cried for so long the tears turned angry and her palms curled into fists pressed tight to her stinging eyes. What made Rachel so freaking special anyway? Seriously, what right did that loser have to turn her into such a state? Yet even as she thought that the other half of her brain was berating her because Rachel wasn't a loser, she was just . . . different, entertainingly so most of the time and simply harmlessly the rest.

Okay, so she hadn't been so harmless to creepy Mr. Ryerson and she could be a real diva if anyone dared to take a solo from her.

So perhaps she wasn't so different to everyone else after all, deep down, but that still didn't explain why Quinn was breaking down over her. She couldn't have cared less for the girl a month ago, but ever since she'd found out Rachel had a crush on her it was like a door had been opened. A door to all of these new and confusing feelings and potential experiences. She'd tried hard to slam that door closed and barricade it, building walls within her walls to defend herself from these feelings, but at some point – maybe the night before or maybe even earlier – the walls had crumbled, the door had been thrown open and left her exposed and vulnerable.

And for the first time in years, more alive and more herself than ever.

She'd been prepared to walk through that door, she really had; ready to accept what was on the other side of it – and then it had been slammed in her face. How was that fair?

She felt ashamed of giving in.

She felt angry for being denied now that she had.

She felt like an idiot for thinking it could be that easy.

Mostly she felt cheated out of getting what she wanted.

And she kind of wanted to literally kill Santana for kicking the door closed.