𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 | r. berry

New York

"I have pills for that," Brittany said.

"Alright, guys," Mr. Schue said. "This is your time. Now, you are all on lockdown till you finish writing our songs for nationals. I want at least two solid verses by the time I get back."

"Bitch," Juniper grumbled. "Making us do all the fucking work."

"Shut up and look at the dessert menu," Quinn said as she tied off the second braid in the Latina's hair.

"Fine, but you're paying."

"Aren't you gonna help us?" Tina asked Mr. Schue.

"I, um...I will be back and read your amazing creations and give you notes," he said. "But right now I have to head to the theatre to, uh...fill out some paperwork."

"Bull fucking shit," Juniper scoffed as the teacher left the room.

"Typical," Naomi pouted as she leaned back against the headboard. "We finally get to New York, and we're not even allowed to leave the hotel!"

"Let's just get these songs written so we can get out of here," Rachel sighed. She casted a glance to where Autumn was sitting, taking note of how her brows were scrunched in concentration as she scribbled words down in her notebook with a sparkly purple gel pen.

The whole room was quiet while the New Directions worked – or pretended to work – on their songs for nationals. Some time passed, and pretty soon Brittany said she was done.

Everyone watched as she performed her song My Cup, and Juniper bit her tongue to keep from laughing.

"Hold on," Tina frowned. "Are you singing about a cup?"

"Yeah, totally," Brittany said.

"We need to get out of here," Quinn said as she stood up.

"I second this," Juniper agreed. "I'm getting claustrophobic, and if we get any more white people in here, it's gonna be a fucking suburb."

"I'm not white, I'm Cuban-American," Naomi frowned.

"You're still white as hell, Little Nomi," Santana chuckled.

"Wait, no," Rachel spoke up. "Mr. Schue gave us explicit instructions."

"To write a song," Quinn said as she put her coat on. "And our problem is that our only inspiration are mattresses and bathroom cups."

"Quinn's right," Puck said as he put his guitar down. "We're in the artist capital of the world. Poets, musicians, actors, playwrights. Every dreamer that's ever lived has passed through this city."

"So, you know that, but you don't know what a mash-up is?" Autumn asked.

"Shut up, Autumn," Puck scoffed as the cheerleader chuckled.

"I'm with Quinn and Puck the Fuck," Juniper said as she stood up from where she had been sitting on the floor. "If we want our dreams to come true, we need to be out there, not rotting away in here."

"I don't think this is a good idea," Finn sighed. "I mean, we still got those songs to write. If we don't write them, we're gonna lose."

"Autumn, haven't you been working on something?" Rachel asked.

"N-No," Autumn said as she covered the page in her notebook with her arms.

"They're right," Lauren spoke up. "Can't you hear the city calling you?"

"We don't need to write songs for nationals," Quinn said. "New York's gonna write them for us."