#𝐯. 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥. ——— rachel berry.

[mastermicd-arch]

𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬   →   accepting.

@cagedpotential : ❝ i bet neither of us thought this possible in high school, but, i miss you. ❞

the words took the blonde by surprise –– it wasn't something she would have expected to hear from rachel at all, really. even if they had managed to put most of their issues from high school to one side, it was still something that surprised her to hear. "you miss me?" she asked, brows raising as the question left her lips. quinn was more than intrigued to know what was missed –– the slushies been thrown at her, the vindictive nature of some of her schemes, being used as a pawn for her own game? she'd be the first to admit that she hadn't been the greatest of people then. at times, she wasn't sure how much she'd actually changed –– but that was a bigger battle that she faced inside of her own mind, on a regular basis. "besides, you've got bigger things going for you in new york. you don't need to be dwelling on mckinley high."

[mastermicd-arch]

sitting up quickly, blonde tresses falling down her back with ease as she looked towards the brunette. "are you an idiot?" a question she'd asked the other countless times, in varying harshness of tone, but this one was somewhat softer than the hardest it had been in previous altercations. "i'm not talking about drugs, rachel." although, she could see why she might have been confused, her words had been vague, and abrupt. but she'd never actually tell the other that. no, quinn knew better than to give rachel any sort of praise of validity. she had enough of that from elsewhere, most of the time. "i'm talking about life. about the stress that is just weighing me down all the time." she told her. "and it would just be nice, for once, to feel like it wasn't there." it was no secret that quinn carried around more pressure than most –– largely self-inflicted, but it was present nonetheless.

the diva with a future as bright as a supernova's headlights is immediately jarred by quinn's uncharacteristically candid statement ― and thus, she didn't know how to deal with it. she was used to their verbal sparrings and secret-to-no-one staredown contests during assignments, but vulnerable? where did rachel b.erry fit in a non-meticulously crafted version of quinn's world? a beat of silence later, the brunette turned to reveal her furrowed brows and perplexed expression to quinn, voice atypically hushed as she questioned, ❝ i'm sorry, was that code for you wanting to get high? because, if so, i really couldn't think of a single reason why you might think i, the biggest self-proclaimed abstinence advocate at this school, would be the best wingwoman to join in on that...hedonistic endeavor. ❞

[mastermicd-arch]

𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.   →   accepting.

@cagedpotential : ❝ this is what we’ve been waiting for. ❞

hands rested on angled hips, emerald eyes fixed on the brunette as she seemed to thrive on just where the path of their lives had brought them. rachel had always looked at life with more rose tinted glasses than quinn had ever dared too. she'd spent too much time working to try and be perfect to see just what life might have to offer her. "maybe it's what you have been waiting for." she'd always been steadfast in her goals and dreams. the blonde, not so much. "you have been working towards for –– how long? years maybe?" she continued, head shaking as golden locks hung past her shoulders. "so enjoy it. but i don't know if i'm going to come along for the ride."

[mastermicd-arch]

@cagedpotential​​​ ♡’d for a starter (still accepting) !

it was if she was carrying everything with her in her body –– her mistakes, her insecurities, had her whole body feeling heavy. "i wanna feel weightless." the confession came quietly, far more revealing of herself than quinn would have preferred to show rachel. "and that should be enough." though even she knew that it wasn't easy, and that it wasn't some sort of switch that could be flicked at a moments notice.

[mastermicd-arch]

𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 .. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭   →   accepting.

@cagedpotential : ❝ no one can hate me more than i hate myself. not even you. ❞

jaw clenched, lips pursed tightly together. "oh come off it, rachel." words spat out quickly. there was no lying about just how much of a distaste quinn had for the brunette –– the blonde quick to blame her for sending her life into a tailspin, whether she ought to or not. if it weren't for rachel, her life might have looked different. "you've got no reason to hate yourself. you're pretty, you've got the talent, you've got the quarterback. your life is shaping up to look pretty great from where i'm stood. what's to hate about that?"

[mastermicd-arch]

the blonde couldn't help but roll her eyes as she heard about the ever detailed morning routine of rachel berry, gaze moving almost on muscle memory, by default, after years of doing the same thing when the wannabe diva started talking. she couldn't pretend like it wasn't reminiscent of the sort of rigour that she put her own body through, thriving to be perfect, to not fall back into the lucy caboosey that she'd spent so long running away from. so long running in fact, that she feared that it might just be coming back to haunt her. "i could be anyone i'd like to be." she repeated the words, as if they might just hurt her if she said them too loud. there was a disbelief to them, and uncertainty, as if she hadn't already been bending and molding herself into being exactly who her parents wanted, who coach sylvester wanted, already for as long as she could remember. "maybe i'm a little tired of being whatever every other person wants me to be." a confession of sorts, one she'd never dared to have shared with the brunette. but sometimes, needs must. "of changing who i am just to make sure i'm perfect to whoever is looking at me. it's exhausting." exhausting as it might have been, at least it had given her what she'd wanted. or so she'd always thought. "maybe i should just cut all my hair off, dye it pink, and do whatever it is i want to do. then i can see who i really am." but even those words felt hollow, as if they weren't really what she wanted or needed from her life.

it felt to rachel as though her and quinn lived in two separate realities, and maybe they did, because they couldn't even agree on their compliments to eachother. ❝ naturally? you really think things come naturally to me? quinn, i know you may not have noticed, considering there's no reason for someone of your social caliber to acknowledge my existence for something other than a hiss or a face slushie, but i try so hard, for everything. i wake up at 6 in the morning and start running in the treadmill with my dream goal glued in front of me, warm up my voice, train my range for at least two hours a day, work on my performing skills, and study on top of all that. sure, i don't have friends or a boyfriend to split my time with, but even my breathing could be considered calculated. ❞ could rachel berry and quinn fabray have their incessant and fear-motivated strive to be better in common? ❝ so do i. but, quinn, you have to take into consideration that i'm unapologetically myself not because i wouldn't change anything about my character, but because i don't believe i have any real possibility of changing it. i feel stuck within myself, more often than not ― it's just easier to pretend i choose to be the way i am. but you're a chameleon, quinn, you could be anyone you'd like to be and people would think you're cool for it, so ― what's all this jaded complaining really about? ❞

[mastermicd-arch]

there was something to be said about the wall that threatened to inch lower, and to rachel berry of all people. secretly, the blonde had always appreciated the others tenacity, clear goals and pathways in order to achieve them. no matter how many slushies the cheerleader might throw at her, how many sarcastic comments she might make from the back row of the choir room, at least the other knew who she was, at her very core. quinn hadn't always been afforded that luxury.

"it's not just coach sylvester." though, sue had been one of many to put an endless amount of pressure on her over the years. and for a long time, she'd taken it. she'd bent and molded herself into whatever box coach wanted her to fit in while at practice, only to change and shift into something else depending on what her parents wanted her to be. be more like frannie. so quinn tried. and tried, and tried. "don't you ever just want to snap?" she asked, slender arms bringing her hands to rest on her angled hips, eyes narrowing as she tried to read the smaller woman. "imagine ––" she stopped, turning towards a nearby mirror, head tilting to see her perfectly tied pony tail, "–– just pushing back. dying my hair pink or something, maybe that will get them to give me space."

a wave of relief unreasonably washed over her despite the blonde's timid insult, rachel feeling more at peace at confirmation that drugs weren't going to be making an appearance in her otherwise calm tuesday afternoon. she'd made it sixteen years without becoming a teen cliché of straying into bad habits, and as excited as she was to establish a more amicable dynamic with quinn, she wasn't about to start now ― the 127th isssue of broadway magazine stated that marijuana was terrible for a singer's vocal agility. THERE GOES HER EASE IN BELTING OUT CELINE SONGS.

her frown didn't disappear with the looming threat of socially-motivated vocal deterioration, though, as rachel still couldn't understand a single word of quinn's remarkably angsty rant (she should consider a career in the dramatic arts). however, the brunette was determined to find out and get to the bottom of what it seemed like a cry for help. ❝ okay, if you want me to help you, which i'm assuming is the reason you're sharing this with me, i'm going to need you to be a little bit more specific: what stress are you talking about? did i miss something and sue kicked you off the cheerios again? because, if so, you really shouldn't blame yourself, that woman is the least mentally stable human being i know, besides fiona apple in 1997 ― she really had some patriarchal anger she needed to let out, but an mtv award's acceptance speech seemed like an inappropriate and unsound choice of place and time. i would've rathered pick my therapist's office or my bright pink boxing bag. ❞

[mastermicd-arch]

she'd never been one to hold back on an eye roll, especially when rachel berry was talking, but this time she let it be as exaggerated as she could make it. to quinn, the brunette just didn't understand. didn't understand that perhaps distancing herself in this way, becoming this version of herself, was the only way that she could stop herself from hurting. "you don't need me at all." though she couldn't pretend like it wasn't nice to feel like there was a group of people who couldn't quite hit the mark without her jazz-squaring behind them. "you can do whatever you need to do, without me being there singing back up. you won't even notice that i'm gone." she protested in return, arms folding across her chest in a gesture that any novice body language analyst could tell was defensive. "don't you have a rehearsal to be at, or something? rather than being here with me?"

it made rachel's heart clench, to see quinn so bitter and...lost, ever since prom last year. she had so much potential, so much talent untapped waiting for her to stop feeling sorry for herself and burn her braincells with pink hair dye, but there seemed there was no getting through to her. and, honestly, rachel might've been delusional and even full of herself for thinking she would be the one to make a difference, but she was too stubborn to give up on the blonde anyway. specially, as she felt partly responsible for her demise. ❝ see, i don't believe that for a second, quinn. in the best and worst of times, glee has been there for you, as a a safety net to fall back on, a home, somewhere to throw all your energy into, and now we have a chance at nationals. i know you're hurt, and that it is scary, to want something, because that means accepting the possibility of losing, but we can't do this without you, quinn. maybe we can, but we don't want to. please, don't put us in that position. come back to glee, and let the music heal you, just like it always has. ❞

[mastermicd-arch]

green eyes narrowed, the question from rachel the last thing that she was expecting to get –– and far from the point that she'd actually been trying to make in the first place. watching the brunette unravel, lay out the thoughts that she carried with her day to day, hadn't been the response that quinn had thought she'd get. no, the blonde thought that her words would be taken as they were, that perhaps rachel might just accept it as fact as so many others did. "you have a lot in your life, rachel. and it all just comes so naturally to you." the talent, the biggest one of all. not that quinn was jealous of her singing voice, that was something nobody could dare compete with. but perhaps the fact that rachel berry was nothing but unapologetically herself. some days, quinn wasn't even sure who she really was, so desperate to live up to an image, an ideal, that she'd managed to lose herself in the process. "maybe other people don't try, but i do. all i do is try, try, try." desperate to be the picture perfect, all american dream. and yet, falling at many hurdles. "at least you are you, and you know who that is." words stop, the looming risk of vulnerability preventing her from wanting to say much more on the topic. she had an image she'd spent far too long trying to curate, after all. she couldn't let any of the cracks show if she could help it. "it's not that way for everyone."

it's no novelty, the unwavering tone of disdain quinn had reserved for rachel every time she opened her mouth ― what did stand out as a novelty, was the vitriol rolling down her down to not match up with the content of the words spewn out. bewildered, the destined diva asked for confirmation on whether she needed an otorhinolaryngology appointment or not, ❝ did you just call me pretty? ❞ there was sheer insecurity and confusion in her almond eyes, which quickly transformed into self-lament as she reflected on the startling zero times she recalled to have ever been called that along her entire high school run. ❝ my unwavering incredulity as i heard you say those words to me is exactly what's to hate about my life, quinn. i'm sure you wouldn't bat an eye if someone called you beautiful strolling down these halls, but i would be lucky to get talented or driven as someone's unprompted descriptions of me, instead of annoying or unbearable. maybe if you asked finn he'd say i'm endearing, and that's still nowehere near close to pretty or sexy ― it just means he's, by some miracle, grown to like all the personality traits everyone else instantly loathes about me. but no one has to try to like you, so why would you be so angry? ❞