Can't Take My Eyes Off You || Quinntana

Fourteen

The next two weeks consisted of radio silence between Santana and Quinn. Santana returned to Louisville, the high of the weekend quickly fading when she realized how much schoolwork she had to do. She'd only taken off two days off of classes, but the assignments had piled up, and she had exams to prepare for. Instead of studying, however, she found a great way to procrastinate: figuring out how to confront Quinn.

She kept waiting for a text message or a call from her—anything to make this easier—but the call never came. Santana had no idea where she stood with Quinn, but it was seeming increasingly likely that the girl was angry. Or scared? Confused? Point is, things were not looking good. Santana had to say something to her.

 Sitting at her desk, she twirled a pen between her fingers, desperately trying to figure out where to start. What did she want to say anyway? Would she cuss Quinn out for avoiding her and making her feel like shit? Would she confess all of her complicated feelings? She didn't know.

Looking around her dorm room for inspiration, her gaze fell upon her keyboard. She pulled over a chair and began playing around with a few chords.

There was something magical about that keyboard. Somehow, it had the ability to turn her complex emotions into something real. Before she could register what was happening, she had lyrics and a melody.

My whole life one person's always been there
Holding my hand as i walked down the tightrope
Teetering on the edge of despair
But in the midst of the darkness she could always find hope
She could always find hope

And maybe I ruined that for us
Maybe I'm the one who cut the string
Now I'm yelling into the darkness and I just
Hope that you're listening

I hate the way you're making me feel
I put myself out there and you couldn't do the same
I could've sworn this thing we had was real
But maybe it's just another twisted game
You always loved a twisted game

And maybe I ruined it for us
Maybe I'm the one who cut the string
But now I'm trying to mend it and I just
Hope that you're listening

And despite it all I still want you
Want to wake up beside you the soft sunlight
This thing we have is imperfect
But you're the one that I want at the end of the night

Tears were streaming down Santana's face by the time she was finished. The song was dramatic, sure, but it was true. Her feelings for Quinn were messy. She was angry about the way Quinn was ignoring her after the night at Breadstix. It was driving her crazy. But at the same time, that girl had the ability to make Santana feel on top of the world with just a look. It was like magic. In the end, she realized that whether or not Quinn felt the same way about her, she just wanted her friend back in her life.

Suddenly, she knew exactly what she was going to say to her. She reached for her pen and began scribbling away. Her assignments could wait. This was much more important.

. . .

Quinn coped with the silence a little differently. While she waited desperately for Santana to text or call her, she buried her feelings in schoolwork. She already had an absurd amount of assignments, and she chose to take on multiple extra projects—anything to distract her from the anticipation. 

She was in the middle of a creative writing assignment when Nora expressed some concern.

"Hey, Quinn. Is everything alright?"

Quinn looked up from her paper and turned around, finding her roommate sitting comfortably on her own bed, looking up from a book she'd been reading. "Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, you've broken two pencils in the past hour, which is a bit out of the ordinary, even for you."

Quinn gazed down at her desk, observing the broken wood pieces littering her paper. Her lips formed a tight line. "I'm going home for Thanksgiving, and so is she. We all promised we would."

"Ah," Nora replied, walking over to Quinn's desk and picking up a shard of pencil to observe it. "Do you have a plan for how you're going to confront her?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of avoiding her completely."

"Ignoring your feelings won't make them go away, Quinn. How you want to address them is your choice, but you have to do it."

Quinn put her head down on her desk, sighing dramatically.

"Hey," Nora said with sudden enthusiasm, "Yale's LGBT+ alliance is meeting tomorrow. You should come with me."

A laugh escaped Quinn. "Absolutely not."

Nora took a step back from the desk, clearly hurt.

"Look, I'm sure the alliance is great, but I don't even know if I'm gay yet, and I'm definitely not ready to parade it around."

Nora looked like she was ready to snap, but she pulled herself together and decided to give Quinn some space.

"Okay. No pressure to come with me. Just think about it. There are meetings every other week."

Done talking, Quinn returned to her assignment, gripping her pencil so hard that it broke.