So, don't worry about City Love. I'm just taking a short break. That, and school is eating me alive. Quick oneshot.

The sun is setting. Orange streaks, painting the sky, the ground, the hood of her car. And her skin. Bleeding oranges and yellows, her hair that used to be ever-flowing and golden is now short, tickling the back of her exposed neck. Still a tinted orange. Everything is orange. Like an oompa-loompa, a carrot, or the way the light burns against her eyelids.

Quinn Fabray. She used to be popular, a princess. Now, she's a mere courtesan. A knave.

She sits on top of her car, William McKinley High School—her palace—behind her. The parking lot long empty, her red graduation dress disposed on the ground. She wants to go home, but she can't. Not until her mind is cleared indefinitely of the only person to ever make her feel. The only existence that ever dared to challenge her, the one who probed her heart in many ways that always made Quinn end up in tears, both good and bad.

"Quinn?"

Speaking of the angel.

Quinn cranes her neck to the side. Rachel Berry. A flaw in her high school life, yet the biggest star in her night sky. She looks so, so gorgeous in her gown and her pinned-up hair and her tear-streaked features. Her eyes, looking so troubled and concerned, reflect Quinn.

"What are you still doing here?" she asks. "Glee club is having a party at Finn's." Quinn grimaces at the mention of the foolish boy that always insisted in a relationship with her or with Rachel. "Are you not going?"

"I'm not going, no." Quinn whispers, her voice an uneven pitch.

"Then why are you still doing here? What about your mom and your sister? Where are they?"

"Rachel," Quinn sighs, almost wistfully. "Relax. I just need time to think. Re-evaluate my life for a bit. It's okay."

At this, Rachel's gaze melts into that of a compassionate smile. Quinn returns it with no regrets.

"Would you—I mean… would you take a walk with me?" Quinn asks. The wind wrestles with the trees while she waits in bated breath for the girl's response.

"I would love to, Quinn."

She leaps off the hood of her car to fall into step beside Rachel. They walk towards the school, elbow to elbow but a gulf existing in between them. Quinn relishes this all the same. They stop before the wall that pictures their faces as the Glee club that took over Nationals. Faces brimming with joy, smiling. No signs of turmoil.

But if only the people watching them knew how the drama flows in glee club, like a proverbial faucet, spilling and overflowing. Quinn and Rachel as its main source.

"We're immortal here," Quinn says softly, pressing her palm against the icy glass.

Rachel makes a quiet noise, voicing her agreement.

"What do you think is real?" The blonde faces Rachel, who faces her as well. "This," she points at the picture. "…or our practices, when you can barely look at me and I, you? When we are fighting over Finn and campaigning for prom king and queen?" Quinn clenches her fists—the only way to tame the tears that threaten to tip from her eyelids. "What's real, Rachel?"

"All of it," Rachel whispers. "It's a cycle isn't it? When we perform, it's the rebirth. When we fight, it's the destruction. Everything in between is our attempt at preservation. Samsara, I believe."

Quinn smiles and walks away from the glass cabinet, Rachel right behind her. They walk out of the school, instead walking along its perimeter in silence.

"I'm not sorry I made your school life hell," Quinn admits. Rachel turns to her with an incredulous expression. "I'm not."

"Why Quinn?" Rachel demands, and the blonde realizes that this is Rachel humouring her.

"I-I wanted something—anything—with you." Quinn says, her voice cracking at her confession. "Fear, hate, jealousy… anything as long as it leads to this warped sense of togetherness of sharing something." She grins, feeling like such a fool. She looks at Rachel now, hazel eyes burning with unshed tears throughout the years with and without Rachel. "You think I'm insane."

"For the lack of a better word, yes." Rachel murmurs. "And yet, I understand."

Quinn smiles, heavy yet true.

"I've always wanted to be like you," Rachel whispers. Quinn supposes that it is the time for confessions.

"You wanted to be blonde, fake and dating the quarterback for popularity?" Quinn snickers. She does this all the time now—mocking her past self. "You wanted to be pregnant with his best friend's baby?"

"No," Rachel insists with a frown. "Strong and silent. That's who Quinn Fabray is to me, not some dumb cheerleader clone who just cares about clothes or boys or some other foolish thing. To me, Quinn Fabray is a queen."

Quinn feels a tear drop, and she makes no move to wipe the tingling remnants of her sorrow. "I've always found you gorgeous," she says.

"I listen to our duet to simulate the idea that you are assuring me this."

"I've had a crush on you since sophomore year."

"I knew you're dating Finn out of convenience."

"I hate Finn. I hate him for hurting you."

"I never wanted him. I only want to get to you."

"I can't do this anymore."

Quinn walks, not away, but rather, with Rachel. they circle the school, both wondering that is 'this', that is it that Quinn can no longer do?

The sun no longer decorates the brilliant sky. Instead, the remnant of the light burrows itself beneath the clouds. Lamp posts flicker and the moon watches the two: fire and ice, sun and rain, light and dark.

Quinn feels her resolve, cemented by many years of feigning hate and bible passages inscribed against the walls of her mind. Love is not a sin, Quinn. Not anymore.

"What happens now?" Rachel asks softly, the moon smiling down at her for her bravery, and her heart, and her dreams that are so high it reaches more than the sky. "Between us, will we just forget? Like typical high school graduates?"

"Why not?" Quinn chokes out, "You'll be famous, and I'll sell houses. There's nothing to recall between us, Rachel."

"That's where you're wrong, where you've always been wrong!" Rachel snaps, reaching for Quinn's hand to stop her from leaving. "You-you made me stronger, Quinn. You inspired me in the best way and—" this time, it is Rachel who gasps for air. "…without you, I won't be who I am now."

"You wouldn't feel the way you deserve to feel," Quinn insists.

"No," Rachel shakes her head. "I would've remained naïve, drunk on my fathers' praises, not realizing how cruel the world can be. Don't you see Quinn? You're more important to me than Finn has ever been. He's someone I'll forget so easily, soon enough! But you…"

Rachel's words vanish with the night breeze when she removes her fingers around Quinn's hand. But no, Quinn does not let go.

"I can't forget you too," Quinn whispers. "But I won't tie you down."

Rachel nods and with her free hand, she feels the moist skin of Quinn's cheek. "When I make it," Rachel says so quietly, so tenderly, that her voice is almost as good as Quinn's favourite song. "I'll carve your name out of the sky."

Quinn bites her lip and melts against Rachel's palm. "And I'll dream of you every night."

A lot remains unsaid, and both Rachel and Quinn know this. They need not say the most important thing, because it hangs above their heads, holding onto their tongues. They can't say it, because who knows how much will change?

But then, Quinn reaches for Rachel's cheek. They now reflect each other, as always, since the beginning of it all.

They need not say it out loud because words are too earthbound.

What they have left to say s too transcendental, too beautiful, too perfect, too metaphysical, to bind down in speech and what is believed to be coherent thought.

Quinn bends down.

She soars.