Author's Note: This is just spontaneous. Based on personal feelings, but no real thought before I started it. I hope you guys enjoy it. Its what I call Unloved!Quinn Faberry.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any characters. They are own by Fox and the Power Puff Girls. I mean RIB.

A Faberry Fanfiction

Honestly You Could Say Anything and I'd Be Entertained

"You okay, Quinn?" Rachel asks me.

I lie, of course. "Yeah, I'm fine." I even put on a little smile to really sell the whole thing. She seems to buy into it, and her rant about Barbra Streisand continues. And I just let the soft cushion of her couch swallow me further, because I don't care, and because what could possibly happen if the couch swallowed me? I've already been swallowed by depression.

My eyes simply gaze at her lips move in such a effortless way. Usually I get tired after talking for so long, but Rachel is able to just keep going and going.

"Isn't that just awesome?" she asks me, and I nod. I honestly have no idea what the hell she is talking about, but why should she be miserable just because I am? And so her train of thought shifts from Barbra to Fred Astaire. I don't know him very well - Rachel is a huge fan but she usually suggests Barbra when we hang out.

Then I feel her touch my hand, and right then and there I could just burst into an orgasm. Or tears. Whichever is easier. But I don't. I simply turn my head and look at Rachel. I didn't realize my eyes wandered elsewhere.

"Quinn, you okay?"

I look at her with lazy eyes, and then smile. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I got distracted."

"By my beauty, right?" she laughed. She loved to laugh. She did it all the time. And when she wasn't laughing she was smiling. She was just awesome.

"What else? Yes." My thumb lightly brushes against Rachel's hand that remained on mine, and then it flew off. I'm sure it had nothing to do with me. But then again I am a hormonal lesbian who's in love with Rachel - she knows it - and she is quite shy about some things.

"Am I boring you?"

"Honestly you could say anything and I'd be entertained." She scoffs at my asinine comment and beams at me. My smile is not as bright as hers, but I feel as if it's good enough.

"Don't lie," she says, and I shake my head, "Anyway..." and there she goes again, off on another Barbra Streisand related rant. I think she forgot she was talking about Fred Astaire. Oh well.

And so I watch her drone on about these people who she's never met, never even seen in person, some of them dead, others I've never even heard of, and yet I feel so very jealous. I wish she would talk about me that way. I wish she would...would get that look in her eyes that said it all. I just wish for once in my life I didn't have to lie about how I felt just to make sure I wouldn't lose her.

"Quinn?" she's not smiling and I don't think I am either. "Are you okay?"

I open my mouth to say I'm fine, but before it comes out I reach to my cheek and pat it. Tears are flowing down them. I'm crying. And instead of lying, I look at her.

"No." I shake my head and my chin quivers and lips press hard against each other before more tears start to stream down my face. Rachel scoots towards me and pulls me into a loving embrace. "I'm not okay."