Cigarette Daydreams

Chapter One

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm super excited about this story which in itself is exciting because I haven't had an interest in writing for quite some time now! But i've recently rewatched glee and had this idea, and I just kept writing. This is set immediately after the scene in S04x08 where Santana and Quinn slap each other in the choir room. It's going to be very angsty for majority of the story but, of course there must be humour as well! Faberry won't necessarily be a main point of interest for this story (in comparison to Quinntana's friendship) as it's mostly about Quinn and her own self-discovery journey but I definitely intend on including that as well. The cover is also temporary as I randomly decided i'm going to be posting this and need to find someone to make a new one. And the title is taken from Cigarette Daydreams by Cage The Elephants just because it gives me the same vibes that this story does :) Anyway, I just felt the need to explain this all before the story began but i'll stop talking now and I hope you enjoy!

"I'm not here to apologize," they're the first words to shatter the thick silence lingering in the empty astronomy classroom. The first words to make Santana's presence known. They send chills down her spine in a way she can't seem to explain to herself, settling deep in her stomach before her heart drops to its snowy depths. She thinks even the planets hanging above her shiver from the disturbance.

"Are you ever?" She hates the way it rolls off her tongue with a familiar bitterness. One always associated with Santana, and her, and them. Like an all-encompassing poison she'll never be able to find the cure for. She thinks it's always a cry for help that she strangles before it leaves her mouth, and instead lets it fall out a mangled mess of acid spewed on whoever is unlucky enough to be a witness.

"Sometimes. When I think it needs to be done," and now Santana's moving closer. She's slowly making her way toward her destination and Quinn names the planets as they're passed.

Neptune, Uranus, Saturn...

And finally Mars, where she's sitting, and where Santana comes to a full stop. Mars, the god of war, and how fitting is that? She's been at war as long as she can remember; With her family, Santana, Rachel Berry, the world, herself. Quinn would've laughed at the irony if it didn't hurt so much. Santana's attentive gaze somehow hurts even more, so she looks back up to the stars, wondering if the plastic figures she's staring up at have the power to move her to another galaxy. Maybe if she reaches high enough, believes it hard enough. She thinks Brittany's imagination would have the power to teleport her wherever she desired. Too bad the other girl's purity burned Quinn's soul if she was around her for too long.

"Why are you here, then?" She wonders if she'll be able to contribute anything more than questions to this conversation. All of the bite from their encounter in the choir room was drained from her body the moment her palm touched Santana's cheek. Touched, that word is too gentle for the violence she was guilty of, but Quinn thinks she'll crumble under the weight of anything harsher.

"Brittany." It's an answer and a crack in her heart all the same. And she thinks Santana knows that. Santana always dissected the intricacies of herself before she even had a chance to begin sorting the pieces out. Why does it hurt so much? She doesn't know how to explain why her heart twists so aggressively in her chest or the way the lump in her throat is rubbing itself raw and the tears prick at her eyes like the sun would prick at her skin. So, she doesn't. She swallows the words back into her soul and feels it crack a little bit more under their weight. She settles for a nod of acceptance and the disappointment in Santana's eyes makes her wish she was brave enough to just spit it out. "And I was worried about you, I guess." The words are timid and rushed, like Santana has to physically push them out of her mouth. Quinn knows how that feels.

"I just slapped you, Santana," she shrugs. "And you slapped me back." She isn't sure what reaction she wanted to achieve by stating a fact.

"Why are you so scared, Q?" But it sure as hell wasn't that.

"What?" She's out of breath when it tumbles out of her mouth, nothing more than a wobbly whisper. Nothing like the venomous tone she was trying to conjure.

"The slap, everything you said before it. You tried to sound like a bitch, but you just sounded scared. You've always sounded scared now that I'm thinking about it, I was just too caught up in myself to do anything about it." And Santana almost sounds remorseful, apologetic. Quinn's heard almost all of Santana's colourful vocabulary and attitudes, but she's never heard this. Not directed at her at least.

"I'm not scared of you," it's supposed to be denial but if you listen hard enough you can hear the confession behind her trembling voice. It's a lie that leaves a sour taste in both of their mouths. "And it's ridiculous that you think that."

"I know," Santana nods, she looks sad. Maybe she's sad that she's lying back. "I think you're scared of everything else." There's a softness in her eyes that she thinks Brittany may have left there and the thought makes her heart feel like it's beating again, however slightly.

She never could resent the bright-eyed, bubbly girl that came crashing into her life as gracefully as lightning crashes to the ground. Not for long, anyway.

Quinn doesn't mean to let the wetness spill from her eyes, the way her secrets are threatening to spill from her mouth. She's been doing so good at keeping it together but it's like Lima is just this cesspool of trauma and everything she's spent the last six months trying to separate herself from. The second she stepped foot in the town she felt her lungs collapse and when she feels Santana's tentative hand on her arm, she thinks it's the first time they've been able to function since her arrival. The same hand that left a red mark on her cheek less than an hour ago was now breathing life back into her shell of a body and the idea made her head hurt. Just two tears fall, dripping onto her pale hands that she's trying so hard to not let shake. Two tears that leave acid tracks down her face and it feels like the end of the world.

"I've started talking to Rachel." She says it without her voice trembling and it's enough to stop the ground from splitting open and swallowing her whole. Santana looks like she wants to protest the change of subject, but realization washes over her expression and Quinn thinks Santana understands it's her way of opening up. "We text everyday, but she still insists on emailing me here and there, God knows why."

"Berry's always been a weird one," Santana says it with a softness in her voice. She's scared of breaking the peace between them. Like if she speaks too loud Quinn will run away and not look back. Quinn thinks she might.

"It's nice," she pauses, wondering. "You know, having a friend." The word friend burns her throat the same way it does every time she talks about Rachel and she doesn't think about it. "I slapped her," she says to distract herself. "After prom in junior year. She followed me so she could console me and I just... slapped her. She wasn't even mad." The hollowness in her eyes and voice (and soul) scares Santana, it's clear as day, the terror on the face of this girl she once considered her best friend. If Quinn focuses hard enough, she can still see the scrawny child with pigtails twice the size of her head, looking as though they could tip her over if she leaned one way too much. She almost smiles at the thought.

"Rachel's... She's tough. She's dealt with a lot worse than a slap. And she still sees the best in you." Quinn thinks it's supposed to be supportive and tender, but it just pierces her heart and she feels like she can't breathe again. She stands up quickly, feeling the bile rise in her throat and it reminds her too much of the girl carrying an unborn life that would never grow to love her as a daughter loves their mother.

"I need to go," she says abruptly, and Santana looks at her, desperately trying to meet her eyes.

"Q, please," she says, and Quinn doesn't even know what she's pleading for, but she knows she can't give it to her. She has nothing to give.

"I can't, I- San, I need to go- I can't-," she stutters out and she feels like she might faint, like the oxygen supply to her brain has been cut off.

"Okay." Santana pulls back. She sighs. "Okay. Just text me, 'kay? Number's still the same."

Quinn's pushing past her before she's even done speaking and somehow the memory-filled hallway feels even more suffocating than the tiny classroom with Santana in her personal space so she moves to her car as fast as she can, and she drives.

Comments are definitely appreciated :)