#para15

Waking up on some of the softest bed sheets he had ever felt had a way of softening the blow of yesterday a bit, but, unfortunately, it was going to take a lot more than an expensive guest bedroom for Benji to pretend the yesterday’s events didn’t happen.

He took a breath and sat up in the bed, his brain already flooding with worries that he purposely spent so long trying to ignore.

He was 18; was he really going to sign away his life for Franco’s sake? Or was Franc’s stubbornness toward converting finally the last straw on his constant attempts to accommodate his boyfriend? And what about Topher? After all these years, the two finally admitted that they loved each other, and all Benji wanted to do was finally be with the man of his dreams, but, even through everything, Franco still had his heart as well.

The more he thought about it, seemingly the less he was able to accept it. The way he was raised, romantic love was between one man and one woman. And although it took years to be finally allowed to accept love between two people of the same gender to be equally valid, no amount of mental gymnastics could convince Benji that this was the same thing. How could someone love two people at once? He read books. He watched movies. This was supposed to be situation where his heart was split in two, each side pulling towards the opposite man in his life. But somehow, that wasn’t it at all. Instead, it was as if his heart had duplicated, each begging to be given away to the man they wanted--one for the love he spent years longing over, the jam to his peanut butter that was similar in more ways than he was different; the other for his new love, the fire to his water that somehow managed to make every bit of steam worth the struggle.

But… was that possible?

Benji swallowed hard, pushing back the tears that his racing thoughts threatened to make fall. If only there was someone he could talk to about this--someone who would really listen. He bit his lip and reached for his cell phone on the nightstand, taking a deep breath before dialing his father’s number, his eyes closing in preparation for whatever this phone call became.

‘What d’ya need, Benjamin?’ Paul said as he answered, not bothering to start with a ‘hello’; after 18 years, there was no question where their relationship stood: A phone call from his youngest only meant one of two things.

“...Nothing.” Benji swallowed, trying to choose his next words carefully, “I was just… wondering if mom had stopped by. Or called. Or… maybe sent a letter? I haven’t redirected all my mail to my new apartment quite yet.”

The other end of the line stayed silent until it was finally revived by Paul giving a gentle sigh. ‘...Benjamin, we’ve been over this. If she tries to contact you, I’ll let you know as soon as possible, but,’ he sighed–––this band aid needed to be ripped off, ‘but Ben, you’re gettin’ older now. Maybe… maybe it’s about time you stop wishin’ that she’ll come back into your life. I know Deb stays in contact at least little for Dave’s sake, and I know your kind wouldn’t know anything about this, but women ain’t all the same, Benjamin.’

“...It’s Benji,” he whispered; between the harsh jab of reality and Paul’s inevitable off-color comment, he had nothing else to say. He hated that this had become his common routine––grasping for straws to find something, anything, in his relationships that he could control. How had he become such a passenger in his own life? “Can… can I at least know her name? I’m 18. I’m 18, and the internet is amazing nowadays. If you’d just tell me her name, maybe I could reach out to her! And if she sees the boy I’ve become, maybe she’d be more inclined to reach out.”

‘She left a note and a bag for you, Benjamin. You have it. If she wants more contact than that, she’s had ample opportunity to do it herself. I’m not gonna let you harass the woman for not wanting to relive a mistake.’

Benji stayed silent, ending the call before his father could say anything else.

He sniffed hard, wiping at his eyes as reality set in: he was 18 years old, engaged to be married to one while still being deeply in love with another. He had no one to turn to––no father who cared, no mother in the city, and he was sure no Pesukim or Rabbi had answers to a mess like this either. With no one else to turn to, he picked up his phone and opened the notes, resorting to the only idea he had left--one he had done numerous times before.

‘Dear Mom,’ he typed.

‘I love you. And even though Paul likes to pretend otherwise, I know you love me too. I can’t wait for you to find me. I have so many letters to give you and so much of my life to catch you up on.

But for now… I need advice. What do you do if you love two people? And I don’t mean a situation where you fall out of love with one person and fall in love with another. What do you do if you really, honestly love two people at once? If there’s even such a thing…

I could really go with some motherly advice on this. Just… give me a sign.

I love you.

~Benji’

Mason: was glad he didn't have any late classes that day so he could take some time to get ready for his date with Rachel. He had a feeling it was going to be a really good one with a very happy ending. When four o'clock rolled around, he headed over to the girl's dorms and to Rachel's room, knocking gently as he rocked on his heels.

Rachel: had been changing outfits for the last hour, finally settling on a dress and leggings, with a pair of converse she'd borrowed from Lily. She doesn't know what they will be doing, but a dress could be casual and a little more than casual. She leaves her hair down but brings something to put it up just in case. She's thankful she'd chosen what she wanted to wear underneath days before. When she hears the knock on the door, she takes a deep breath, and opens it. Rachel can't help the smile that comes to her face, bringing Mason in for a hug. "Hi!"

Mason: wrapped his arms around her immediately, his smile brightening as soon as he saw her. "Hey," he greeted in return. "You look great. Beautiful and appropriate for the activity." He added the last part, knowing very well she'd probably been worrying about it. "We're gonna have to take the train. I hope that's okay." He reached his hand out in offering to her as they headed out from her room.

Rachel: rolls her eyes at him, "Why can't you just tell me already?" She giggles, knowing he's going to make her be patient, and it will be hard, but at least she gets to be impatient and curious with him. "The train is fine. I like the train." She looks to his hand with a small smile before letting him the way out, squeezing his hand tightly. "Did you have a good day?"

Mason: just shook his head though, determined to see her face when they got there. And praying she wouldn't completely hate it and make this plan backfire. "Because surprises are fun," he told her simply. He tangles their fingers together comfortably as they head to the nearest station. "As a good a day as you can have when you have an anatomy class," he chuckled, swinging their hands between them gently. "Plus, I can't lie, I wasn't paying attention at all cause I was totally just waiting for four o'clock to happen."

Rachel: "They can be fun. I trust this one will be." She's not the best with the unknown but she figures it would be worth it and she doubts he'd bring her into a situation that isn't a good one. "Do you like surprises? If someone threw you a surprise birthday party you'd be the happiest person ever?" She grins as they walk, pouting a little. "At least the first half of the class will be over in two weeks. Do you think the final will make you remember all the bones and body parts?" She scrunches her nose, realizing potentially stressing out probably isn't the best date conversation. "I couldn't focus either. I have a feeling Jeff hated me today in jazz. I was so distracted." Not that she hadn't been distracted in their class before, this time it was more positive of reasons. "I'm very happy to be going on another date with you Mason."

Mason: "Uh, yeah. Surprises are super fun! Especially if there's glitter involved," he pointed out as if it should be obvious. "Though if someone threw just me a surprise birthday party and not Madison, that would kinda suck. But it would definitely make us both happy. Mostly cause we like attention a lot." He laughed quietly at himself, far from ashamed about the fact. "We did bones last year. The midterm's probably gonna be muscles mostly and then we're getting more detailed on organs after that I think." As easily stressed as he often was, classes were rarely the cause. Sure, midterms and finals exhausted him as much as any other college student, but he'd rather focus on the details of class then the other things that popped up in his head. He smiled at Rachel's compliment as he turned to look at her. "I am too. Really happy." He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head as they walked.

Rachel: laughs, "I'm not sure anyone could forget Madison, or you, if I were having this conversation with her. You're like two peas in a pod. I can't imagine having a bond so strong." Rachel thinks about how she could have that relationship with Lily but quickly shakes it out of her head. Sure she's wearing her shoes but the girl had no part in this date, not with the conversation between Lily and Mason the other night. "Oh, muscles sounds harder than bones. I think as long as you keep studying you'll get to the test and you'll ace it!" She's glad she's in musical theater because once she gets her general eds out of the way, the classes will be more centered to her major. They may not always be easy but at least she'll enjoy them. She just feels her heart melt into a puddle as he kisses her forehead and continues letting him lead the way, extra excited when they make it to the train. She really just wanted to know what they were doing. Would she get to hold his hand the whole time? Could she kiss him? She really wanted to kiss him.

Mason: smiled fondly, really glad that Rachel understood his bond with his sister and didn't find it overwhelming like so many others did. He couldn't imagine dating someone who wanted to keep him from his best friend. "I'm sure you can get there too," he assures her. "Madi and I have a 19 year head start after all." He led them to the right train that would take them a little way out of the city. They lucked out and found a seat where they could sit together, his arm resting around Rachel's shoulders. "Hi there," he said playfully, laying a kiss on her cheek, each kiss he gave her inching a little closer to her lips.

Rachel: "Maybe. But it won't be the same. I always wanted a sibling." She admits, though she has one now, and despite things not being perfect, there was hope they could get there. "Lily and I just talked about both of you today. I learned she can't dance and she suggest she sing and I dance. I wasn't much for that idea and reminded her that we already have a set of performing twins." She grins adoringly at him when they are seated, finally closing in the space between them, her hand on his cheek as she kisses him softly at first and then a little deeper. She pulls away a smile on her face and peeks out the window hoping maybe she'd get some sort of idea of where they were going. It was proved to be pointless. "I love kissing you."

Mason: "Who knew your wish would come true?" he chuckled. Even if he had his own issues with Lily, he was really glad Rachel was getting a chance to know her sister. He knew how important siblings could be in your life. They were certainly the most important people in his own life. He raised a confused eyebrow though. "She can't dance? Wasn't she on Broadway? I mean, my dancing skills aren't up to par with some of my others, but... I also haven't been on Broadway. Whatever though," he said with a shrug. His smile returned as Rachel moved in closer and they finally shared a proper kiss. "Yeah? I'm a pretty big fan of kissing you too, so that works out well."

Rachel: "It kind of gives me faith that maybe things you wish for can happen if you wish for them hard enough." She shrugs, knowing it sounds pretty cheesy, but she is super sappy after all. "Yeah, she said she had to take lessons as a kid and never hurt anyone but herself. I guess she's decent enough for simple choreography. I was just hoping for some sibling dance duets but I think that's must be what I have Jeff for."

Rachel: She thinks they've done enough talking about Lily though and she just continues to smile up at him. "It does and I like cuddling with you a lot too." She scoots closer to him, giggling.

Mason: nodded along. "I like to think so," he agreed. "At least for the people who deserve their wishes, which you certainly do." He wrapped his arm around her a little tighter and rested his head against hers comfortably. "Jeff's good like that. And I know you already have a lot of singing partners, but you can add me to that list anytime you like." He watched out the window, pointing random things out until the business of the city faded away and they came into a more rural area where the houses were farther and fewer between

Rachel: "Do you have any wishes that you want to come true?" She looks at him quietly, very curious now that they've gotten onto the topic. Rachel settles easily into his arms, just listening to him as he points things out. "Honestly Mason I would like it if we could sing more together. I don't sing enough with you." She pouts at him, poking his arm as they leave the city. "Where are you taking me?"

Mason: hummed as he considered her question. "Just the typical ones, I guess. A happy future, people who love me. As cliche as it is, I'd love for my parents to be proud of me, but I'm not holding my breath on that one," he admitted. "And we can sing together anytime you like. Except on Queen night, cause I already have my performance planned out. But any other time." He laughed, letting his fingers play against her shoulder comfortably. "You caught me. I'm taking you to Mexico."

Rachel: "Those are still valid wishes and I'm sorry that your parents may not ever be proud of you the way you want and need them to be. It's not fair of them." Her hand reaches down to squeeze his knee slightly in a hope to give some comfort. "We should do an open mic night at some point and just do lots more singing." Rachel's pretty sure he's going to tell her but he jokes and she pouts deeply. "I suppose that is better than an abandoned warehouse." She shrugs, allowing herself to relax once more. "Well we're not in Kansas anymore, that's for sure."

Mason: just shrugs it off like he always does. He can't deny that it bothers him, but he doesn't want to let it eat away at him. "Oh my gosh, we should absolutely do that. I am all for forcing people to listen to me sing as often as possible. Just ask MJ," he laughed. "And I didn't say it wasn't an abandoned warehouse. I just said it was in Mexico," he pointed out, reaching over to tickle at Rachel's side playfully.

Rachel: "I think we might be the same person. That's like my favorite past time!" She grins up at him, knowing he sides were going to hurt by the time the night is over. He's hilarious and she loves it so much. "Oh we're going to be so annoying but I can't wait." At his response she wiggles her eyebrows, "So you are going to take advantage of me in an abanonded warehouse in Mexico? I suppose I'm okay with that as long as you take me to the beach." She'd browsed a little deep on the internet but she can't help but mention it, maybe he'd done the same at some point. "I'm excited, whatever it is." She's giggling again as he tickles her, trying to swat his hands away.

Mason: just laughed along with her. "I am so down for annoying people. We should be a human alarm clock outside Jeff's door like year round Christmas carolers," he decided. "That's a fair exchange. I appreciate your negotiation skills. But actually I was just gonna take advantage of you in your dorm room tonight. With your express consent, of course," he added with a wink.

Rachel: gasps, "I don't think I've ever been more supportive of an idea in my life and Nick would get up too and we'd have pictures for proof that Jeff can actually wake up early!" They are so ridiculous but she really doesn't want it to be any other way. "We should sing to Aaron Purr first though. I think he'd appreciate us more than anything." She just smiles at him, "All the consent, that's the most important part." In all honestly it makes her swell even more that he'd even mention that word, of course she's consenting and a little nervous but a lot excited to be with him that way, but with everything going on with Blaine. It's a little scary too. "Are we almost there?"

Mason: "Please, Jeff wakes up plenty early. He's a pain in my ass most of the time trying to wake me up earlier. But I'm all for giving him a dose of his own medicine," he agrees wholeheartedly. "Oh, he would love it. Especially if we gave him treats while we were singing. We'd get a standing ovation for sure. Literally, sometimes he gets up on his back paws if I hold the treat above his head. It's adorable!" He nodded along with a genuine smile at her statement and lifted a hand to run it over her hair. "I think so, yeah." He looked up and soon enough they were pulling up to their stop.

Rachel: "Why haven't you ever shown me he does that before? Do you think he'd stand on his paws for me?" She has the perfect mental image of Aaron doing that and she basically melts at the thought of it. She just smiles, so comfortable with him already. She's so happy they found each other and she really hopes they don't get lost on the way of discovering what this is for them. Rachel is up on her feet the minute he tells them its their stop and she laces their fingers, rushing off. "Just so you know I love surprises, but I'm the worst about waiting to find out what they are. If you hadn't noticed."

Mason: "Because, I'm trying to teach him to dance and I wanted to wait until we had to down before I showed you. But now I've ruined the surprise. I'm sure he'd do it for anyone with a treat though," he mused. He laughed again as she tugged him along, enjoying the eagerness. "I may have noticed just a little bit. I think it's adorable though." Once they deboarded the train, it wasn't too long a walk to the small farm where they had a pumpkin patch and corn maze set up for tourists.

Rachel: "You should have Van and Jeff teach him, they are the best dancers at this school!" She's just so happy to be holding his hand and her smile only gets bigger when they arrive. "Do you think we'll be able to carve a pumpkin? Are there animals here?" She moves in front of him to hug him tightly. "This is the last thing I would have ever thought of, but it's the best thing."

Mason: "He's my cat! I can dance well enough to teach a cat," Mason insisted with a smile, which only brightened with all her questions. Questions meant she was excited and that was exactly what he was hoping for. "We can definitely carve pumpkins. I'm not entirely sure about the animal thing, but I guess we'll find out together." He wraps his arms around her and lifts her in the air a little before setting her back on the ground. "I'm glad you like it."

Rachel: "I think you're more than good enough to teach him, but make sure that you ask him if he actually wants to dance. Maybe he just wants to be a fisherman or something. I would if I were a cat." When he lifts her she wraps her arms around him and kisses him soundly. "I love it, come on." She's back on her feet and she drags him towards the entrance, just too excited for her own good. "I really hope there is cute animals or at least people taking pictures of their babies among the pumpkins."

Mason: Hearing Rachel come up with such an idea just reaffirmed the fact that they were absolutely perfect for each other. "You're amazing, you know that?" he said simply. He leaves one last kiss to her forehead before following along with her. "I could live without sheep though. Sheep freak me out. I really wanna pick a pumpkin though."

Rachel: "No way, that's you." She blushes, happy when they make it to the entrance and inside. It's just so orange and beautiful and not the city at all. Maybe he'd like to hike with her at some point, she wonders to herself, "Mm, I'm thinking more like baby bunnies and cows and things like that. Mostly the baby bunnies and maybe a barn cat!" She's eagerly looking around for anything that will give her heart a reason to melt. "Should we pick out pumpkins now or later?"

Mason: just loves seeing her so happy and excited, like all the stress of school and life has just left them both for this afternoon at least. It's just the two of them and pumpkins and happiness. "Well, that depends. Do you wanna do the corn maze? Cause if you do, we should do that first so we're not carrying heavy pumpkins through it," he reasoned.

Rachel: "Mm, good point, especially if we get lost." Rachel grins, knowing she probably wouldn't have thought of that herself, even if it's incredibly reasonable. "I think it would be fun to do but what are you thinking?" Rachel keeps hold of his hand, just walking with him towards the maze and in hopes for animals. If only they could bring Aaron with them.

Mason: "Honestly?" he asked with a mischievous little grin on his face. He glanced around leaned down toward Rachel's ear. "I was thinking it might be fun to find a dead end in the tall corn and make out a little bit, but I'll leave that up to you."

Rachel: can't help but grab his hand and pull him towards the corn maze even faster. "I think that would be the most fun, come on." She grabs them a map and once they are the beginning she looks to him. "Right or left, Mason? Do you have any inkling to where the fastest dead end?"

Mason: laughed louder than he had in far too long as he let himself be pulled along. "Let me see it," he said through his own laughter, inspecting the map as he looked around. "I mean, it's supposed to be hard to find your way out, so there should be a lot of dead ends." He takes her hand again and heads in, just walking aimlessly until he gets stopped by a wall of corn. "I have found you a dead end, babe. Reward me now."

Rachel: shrugs her shoulders, letting him take the map, she hadn't even really thought to look at it. She just wanted to get lost right away anyways. She grins when they are cornered in the middle of the corn, definitely not getting out right away. "I guess it deserves a reward or something." With a cheeky grin she leans up and pulls him in for a deep kiss, her arms wrapping around her. He's such a good kisser and she doesn't pull away until she needs to breathe. "It could have been better." She admits with a laugh

Mason: lets his hands fall on Rachel's hips, drawing her closer to him as he kisses her in return. It's just a little exciting that someone could round the corner at any second, along with the fact that she just has amazing lips. He gasps when she pulls back, pretending to be terribly offended. "Did you just diss my kiss?"

Rachel: "Oh my god Mason, no!" She knows he's joking with her but she leans up again, this time letting her hands rest on his back, her lips back on his as her tongue teases at his bottom lip for entrance, her nails digging slightly into his back. God he was going to kill her and she's sure of it. They are too perfect for her to even begin to comprehend.

Mason: giggled against Rachel's lips a moment before the kiss deepened once again. His own lips parted as his arms tightened around her small waist and he pulled her against his body. One hand moved up to tangle in her hair and he let himself get lost in the kiss and the happiness he was feeling.

Rachel: enjoys the kiss, more than she probably should at this moment, half tempted to let her hands run up under his shirt but the clearing of someone's throat brings her out of her thoughts. She flushes as she pulls away mumbling an apology. "Come on." She grins, darting them away. "I think we should find the next dead end." She takes a few turns as she giggles. "A very good kisser." Rachel promised.

Mason: just offers his cheesiest smile to the lady that caught them and follows Rachel with an innocent look on his face. "Good thing there's so many of them," he decides with a chuckle. His smile turns more sincere at the compliment and draws Rachel close again as he chews at the inside of his bottom lip. "Can I ask you something?"

Rachel: stops in her place, looking at him, looking a little worried. "You can ask me anything, what is it?" She squeezes his hand nervously, hoping to reassure him as well as herself. "Is something wrong?"

Mason: "No, no," he insists quickly. "Everything's amazing." He takes both Rachel's hands in his own and holds them between their bodies as he works up a little courage. It's probably silly for him to get nervous about such a thing when he's pretty sure he knows what the answer will be, but he can't help it. "I was wondering if you'd like to be my girlfriend? Officially."

Rachel: just meets his eyes, finding herself biting on her own lip. She feels reassured though because things were going pretty amazing. "Oh." Her face lights up instantly. "I would love to be your girlfriend Mason." She moves her hands from his to wrap him in another hug, giving him a sweet kiss. "You had me scared for a second." She murmurs against his lips.

Mason: chuckles into the kiss and gives her a squeeze. "Well, it wouldn't be us if we didn't do it a little dramatically," he points out before kissing her once again. "So would my girlfriend like to go pick out some pumpkins with me?"

Rachel: laughs, "This is true. I'm not sure the world knows what it is getting itself into." She jokes, happy as they kiss again. "I would love to but we need to get out of here first." She starts leading him through the maze, thankful when they make it to the end. She gasps happily pointing, "Look, it's a baby." It's parents have it sitting on a pumpkin. "So cute."

Mason: looks over where she's pointing and just smiles at how excited she is. So many people thought he was odd for getting excited about the little things in life and now he'd managed to find someone who looked at life the same way he did, at least when it came to the little details. "Adorable," he agreed. "You wanna sit on one? You can be my little girl on a pumpkin," he suggested a sly grin.

Rachel: can't help but flush at his words, shaking her head. "No, I'd much rather pick one out and carve into it." She says, getting close to his ear, "Though I like the idea of being your little girl daddy." She doesn't give enough time to catch his face before pulling him along to the pumpkin patches. "This is going to be hard to just choose one!"

Mason: really loved making Rachel blush. He had a feeling it was going to be one of his new favorite pastimes. He just grinned at her and nodded along. "Carving it is," he agreed with a knowing look. "Well, we can get one each. And maybe some of those tiny pumpkins! I love those. I'll juggle them for you."

Rachel: "You can juggle? I want to see that. I also like tiny pumpkins, they are cute and make for great decoration." She finds a white pumpkin almost immediately and grins. "You can take a picture of me with this pumpkin," Already spotting the one she wants to carve as well. "Pleaseeee." She whines at him jokingly.

Mason: "I can indeed," he confirmed. "I think our parents put us in every entertainment class you can think of. Some stuff stuck and some didn't. I don't know why juggling decided to stick." He smiles as he pulls his phone out to take a photo of Rachel among the pumpkins, having found the one that was just a little different from all the others. Kinda like she'd found him. He certainly considered himself a little different. "Perfect," he said quietly.

Rachel: looks to him, "How many balls can you juggle? I can juggle two but that doesn't really count as juggling. I wasn't in a class for it though. Did your parents want you to do any type of performing as long as it was performing?" She looks to him quietly before she poses with the pumpkin, trying to look mysterious but cute at the same time. When he's done taking the picture she just runs up to hug him. "Thanks. I trust your judgement that it came out good."

Mason: "Yeah, that's not actually juggling, babe," he laughs. "But I appreciate your effort. I usually stick to three myself though." He sighs as he considers the actual answer to that question. "I guess so, yeah. They love an audience. Can't say I hate the attention either, but it just wasn't the direction I felt my life was going, you know? I like doing it for fun." He shrugs it off as he always does before opening his arms to accept Rachel's return to his side. "It's beautiful. You're in it after all."

Rachel: "Right. Who doesn't? But it's not their job to decide that for you." She shrugs, her dad's had been similar but she loved it all so much, still loved it, and they were at least active parents when she needed them to be. "I'm sorry I think what you're planning to do with your life is awesome!" It comes out easily because she means it and she hopes he knows that. "Thank you. Should I take a picture for you Mason? Find one to pose with! You have a whole field of them!"

Mason: nods along, knowing she's right. He's reminded himself of that all the time as did Madison. He can't help having a small part of himself that wishes his parents would be more understanding about it though. "Thanks, Rach. It's called a patch, but sure," he laughs before shaking his head. "Why am I correcting you? I sound like Madison. Call it whatever you want." He waves himself off and starts exploring until he finds an area with odd shaped gourds. The weird stuff. Now he feels at home. "Dude, this one's all bumpy. It's like an acne gourd. That's unfortunate. Whoa... that's a big one." He picks up a long, thick gourd and holds it in front of his crotch, unable to stop laughing at himself at this point.

Rachel: can't help but laugh, "It's okay I happen to like Madison. I just like you a whole lot more. I'd rather you tell me then have me make a post later and have everyone laugh." She scrunches her nose at the thought, thankful reall. She would have continued calling it a field since it definitely looks like one. Rachel nearly doubles over with laugher as he holds one up. "I need to take a picture of this." She's still giggling as she grabs her phone to snap a photo. "You're too much in the best possible way." She promises

Mason: just smiles proudly at her and then sets the gourd back down. "You can stay here, giant dick gourd," he says to it before wandering back to the pumpkins again. Gourds are cool, but pumpkins are better for carving. He finds a nice fat one and returns to Rachel's side, sneaking a quick kiss from her. "Wanna go to the carving table? See what we can do with these bad boys?"

When Rachel checks her phone at intermission, she's only a tiny bit disappointed not to see a response to the last text she'd sent Quinn. After all, it had taken her a full fifteen minutes to compose it—ten to admire the photo Quinn had sent of herself wearing the indecently short uniform she'd donned for tonight's Flight Crew event and five to decide on an appropriate balance between the blatant proposition she'd wanted to send and the more restrained tone she's been (barely) managing since their aborted attempt at consummating their physical relationship two weeks ago. But she knows Quinn was probably busy with her duties and unable to check her own texts—really, there isn't anywhere she could possibly hide a cellphone in that uniform. So Rachel shrugs and takes a sip of her water, refocusing her thoughts on the second half of her performance.

It's brilliant of course.

She's a little perplexed when she checks her phone after the final curtain call and still doesn't see a message from Quinn. It's 10:30, and she guesses it's possible that Quinn might still be at her event—Rachel isn't completely sure how long a draft party is supposed to last, though she'd thought it would be over by 10:00—but she decides to give Quinn a call anyway.

It goes to voicemail after ringing unanswered.

A knot of apprehension forms in her stomach, but she tells herself she's being foolish—Quinn might still be busy at the stadium or in the locker room or driving (and Rachel made her promise to never, ever answer her phone again while she's driving no matter what!)—and manages a tight smile and a nod when Stephanie asks if she's going out to sign autographs tonight.

Rachel calls again once she's done with her fans—and maybe she rushed through the small crowd a little more quickly than usual tonight—but Quinn still isn't answering. It's close to 11:00, and the knot in Rachel's stomach tightens.

She flags down a taxi and almost tells him to take her to New Jersey, but she stops herself, giving the driver her own address—not wanting to regress back to slightly obsessive behaviors just because she's having a little trouble getting through to Quinn. She tells herself there's a perfectly logical, not at all horrible, explanation—maybe Quinn's phone had died or she'd lost it or forgotten it in her locker, or maybe her event had ended much earlier than Rachel had believed it would and she's already home sleeping.

She calls Quinn twice more on the ride home.

She adds two more messages of, "Quinn, baby, it's Rachel. Please call me a soon as you get this."

Trembling hands fumble for the cash to pay the taxi driver before Rachel is out of the car and rushing on shaky legs up the five flights of stairs to her apartment. She's barely closed her door and hasn't yet caught her breath, but she's already scrolling through her contacts, pulling up Kaitlyn's name, and hitting the speed dial.

"Please pick up," she begs on the verge of tears, silently praying for Quinn to be there and safe, in which case Rachel will give her an earful about the importance of returning phone messages in a timely fashion or at least notifying your easily worried girlfriend why you won't be reachable by phone and exactly how long that situation is expected to last.

"Hey, Rachel," Kaitlyn answers, and to Rachel's trained ear, her tone sounds just a tiny bit off.

"Is Quinn with you?" Rachel asks desperately, forgetting all about her manners and not at all concerned with polite small talk. "I've tried calling her several times, but she isn't answering."

There's a frightening silence on the other end of the line. "She's not home yet," Kaitlyn admits. "I just tried to call her too."

Rachel can hear the edge of worry in Kaitlyn's voice, and her heart practically stops. "Oh, God," she cries, sinking down onto her sofa.

"Don't panic, okay," Kaitlyn quickly urges. "It's not impossible that she's still tied up at the stadium. Those parties can go pretty late sometimes if a few of the VIPs get extra chatty and drag their feet when it's time to leave. Let me try to track her down," she continues calmly. "I'll call some of the other girls on the squad, and let you know what I find out."

"Call me as soon as you know anything," Rachel pleads, losing the battle with her tears as her stomach churns with nausea. "No…no matter what you find out."

"I will," Kaitlyn assures her, pausing before she quietly adds, "I know you're worried, Rachel, but just try to stay calm until I find out what's going on. This might be nothing but a miscommunication."

Rachel sniffles, wiping her tears. "I'll try," she promises.

The call disconnects, and Rachel stares blankly at the phone while her mind cycles through the dozens of tragic scenarios she's been trying to keep at bay—a car accident, a mugging, a shooting, a kidnapping, a full blown bipolar episode that has Quinn taking a walk into the Hudson River.

"Oh, please, God. Please let her be okay," she cries, letting her tears come unchecked as she curls into a fetal position on her sofa with her phone clutched to her chest. As much as she wants it to ring right this second, she's terrified of what she might hear when she answers it.

The memory of another phone call comes rushing back to her—one that brought her world crumbling down on top of her—and she feels like she's going to be sick. Scrambling off the sofa, phone still glued to her hand, she barely manages to make it to her bathroom where she empties the meager contents of her stomach into the toilet. Her entire body trembles as she slides down onto the floor, sobbing.

Losing Finn had nearly destroyed her, but she'd somehow managed to survive it. She doesn't know that she'd be able to survive losing Quinn now.

You're panicking, Rachel.

The little voice manages to cut through her turmoil, and she tries to pull herself together. Kaitlyn had told her to stay calm, and this is so far from calm. Rubbing angrily at her wet cheeks, Rachel pushes up from the floor and shakily steps over to the sink where she carefully lays her phone on the edge before splashing some cool water on her face. After patting it dry, she rinses her mouth with mouthwash. Her phone rings as she's spitting, and she lunges for it, hastily wiping her mouth.

"Kaitlyn? Did you find her?" she demands.

"Not yet," Kaitlyn answers regretfully. Rachel lets out a whimper, gripping the edge of her sink until her knuckles turn white as she swallows down the fresh burn of tears. "I'm going to drive up to the stadium," Kaitlyn tells her. "I talked to one of the girls, and Quinn's car was still in the parking lot when she left, so I think she might still be there."

"I can meet you there," Rachel says without thinking twice. She's already jogging through her apartment to grab her purse.

"It will take you at least forty-five minutes to get there. I can be there and home with Quinn by then," Kaitlyn gently deters.

"Then I'll come to your apartment."

Kaitlyn lets out a frustrated sigh. "That might not be the best idea."

"Why not?" Rachel snaps with a frown.

"Look, Rachel…I don't know exactly what happened tonight, but Gina told me there was some woman at the party who seemed to know Quinn and you," Kaitlyn informs her, and Rachel's entire body goes cold at the revelation. "There was a confrontation, and this woman said some things to Quinn…something about Quinn messing up your life."

"Oh, my God," Rachel whispers, dread rising in her throat until she thinks she might need to race for the bathroom again. There's only one person who would have tracked down Quinn at an event (other than Rachel) and said that to her, and her free hand closes into a painful fist as she imagines squeezing the breath out of Santana Lopez.

"Quinn didn't react well," Kaitlyn continues carefully. "I know how much you probably want to be here for her, but I think maybe you should let me talk to her first just in case," she trails off, but Rachel gets the idea.

"In case seeing me right now makes it worse for her," Rachel manages brokenly.

"I'm sorry," Kaitlyn says simply.

Rachel nods, even though Kaitlyn can't see her, as she leans heavily against the wall. "Call me when you find her," she demands, refusing to contemplate a scenario in which Kaitlyn doesn't find Quinn. "Let me know she's okay, and if…if she wants to see me, I'll be there as fast as I can. Tell her that, okay? And tell her I love her. I love her so much, and she isn't messing up anything for me."

"I will," Kaitlyn promises before disconnecting the call.

Rachel slides down the wall, letting the phone drop out of her hand when she hits the floor. With one hand pressed to her queasy stomach, she lets herself cry again—for Quinn and for herself.

And then the horrified anger begins to trickle in.

Why in the hell would Santana do something like this? Rachel hasn't even mentioned Quinn to her in weeks.

Well, directly anyway. She had talked to Brittany recently, but only because Brittany had remembered it was Quinn's birthday and asked what Rachel was getting her. And then Rachel had told her about the book and the dinner, so of course Brittany had asked her later how the birthday dinner had gone, and Rachel had sadly told her the truth.

She slams a palm against the floor, feeling the sting reverberate up her arm. "Of course, she told Santana," Rachel growls, realizing how stupid she'd been to think Brittany would keep anything from her wife—even things that didn't really concern her.

The anger bubbles up, spilling over the worry and fear that Rachel has been feeling for the last two hours and coating everything in a haze of red. How dare she! How dare she stick her bitchy nose in where it doesn't belong! How dare she jeopardize Rachel's relationship with Quinn—let alone Quinn's mental health and well-being!

Driven by righteous indignation and the need to do something other than sit here and worry about Quinn, Rachel finds herself snatching up her phone and standing jerkily before she grabs her purse and storms out of the apartment. She doesn't care that it's after midnight! She's going to give Santana Lopez a piece of her mind, and if it costs her their friendship, she honestly doesn't care anymore. She only cares that whatever the hell Santana had done might end up costing her Quinn.

Rachel has to walk six blocks to the subway station, and the air does nothing to cool her temper. If she was less sick with worry over Quinn and anger at Santana for making her worry over Quinn, she might actually be worried about being out alone at the late hour. Yorkville is one of the better neighborhoods, but it's still Manhattan, and the subway is still the subway.

It takes thirty-five minutes and another five blocks of walking until she's standing on the threshold of the Pierce-Lopez apartment, banging on the door like a crazy woman. It's nearly 1:00 in the morning, but she doesn't care who she's waking up or what she's interrupting. Even having heard from Kaitlyn again—the assurance that she'd found Quinn sitting on a curb outside the stadium, still in her uniform, and had cleaned her up and was taking her home—didn't dampen Rachel's ire. In fact, the confirmation that Quinn isn't ready to talk to her or see her right now only makes everything worse.

"Open this door right now, Lopez!" Rachel yells, pounding the heel of her hand into the door again.

When the door finally does swing open, it isn't Santana standing on the other side. It's a red-eyed, sad-looking Brittany. "I told her she should have called you and told you what she did," she murmurs. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. I didn't know what she was planning. She didn't tell me until she got home tonight."

Rachel ignores the pitiful expression on Brittany's face and the genuine sorrow in her voice. "Where is she?" she demands, hating the way her own voice cracks.

"I'm here," Santana mutters from over Brittany's shoulder, dressed in a robe with her hair a tangled mess and puffy, bloodshot eyes.

Rachel grits her teeth, pushing inside the apartment with no resistance from Brittany, who steps aside to let her pass before closing the door behind her. "How could you?" Rachel asks angrily, pointing a finger in Santana's face. "How could you go behind my back and…and ambush Quinn when I told you…I told you she wasn't ready to see you?"

Santana crosses her arms defensively, but her eyes drop to the floor. "I don't trust her," she mumbles.

"I don't care!" Rachel shouts, throwing out her hands. "I trust her," she insists, thumping her chest. "That's all that should matter to you. You're supposed to be my friend."

That brings Santana's eyes back up, flashing with a spark of temper. "And friends always tell each other everything, right?" she challenges heatedly. "Support each other no matter what? Rely on each other?" she fires out. "Like you told us when Quinn dropped back into your life? Like she supported you when Finn died?" Rachel sucks in a harsh breath. "Like she…she fucking relied on us when she went loca?" Santana spits, her voice cracking just a slightly at that. "Oh wait, none of that happened."

"You bitch," Rachel barks, clenching her fists at her side. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" she cries, slamming a fist into her thigh to keep from punching Santana in the nose. "What you could have done? Quinn's roommate had to go looking for her tonight because she didn't go home! She wouldn't even answer her phone! I had no idea where she was or if something terrible had happened to her for hours. Hours," she repeats tearfully, crossing her fisted arms over her chest. Beside her, she hears Brittany let out a quiet sob. "Do you know what that did to me? Do you even care?"

Santana's fingernails visibly bite into her forearms, and she averts her eyes guiltily, but she remains stubbornly silent. A tearful Brittany rests a gentle hand on Rachel's shoulder. "Is Quinn okay?" she whispers.

"I don't know," Rachel chokes out, keeping her pained gaze trained on Santana as she shifts uncomfortably. "Kaitlyn found her but...but she doesn't want to talk to me. What did you say to her, Santana?" she pleads, needing to know what she's up against—what demons she needs to battle this time.

Santana's jaw tenses, and she shakes her head. "This," she finally answers. "I told her this," she reiterates, throwing out her hands as she meets Rachel's eyes—her own suspiciously moist. "That her issues would do this to you! Mess you up and tear your heart out whenever she has one of her meltdowns and disappears on you. Yeah, maybe I fucked up by going to see her," she concedes, angrily brushing away a stray tear like it's some annoying bug, "but if it's not me, it's going to be something else. Like seeing your fucking tattoo!" she throws in Rachel's face, confirming that Brittany had, in fact, told her everything. "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life waiting for her to blow up your life again?"

"It's my life, Santana! I'm not some incompetent child who needs a protector to save me from potential heartbreak. It's too late for that anyway. I'm in love with Quinn. This," she hisses, gesturing between them, "is the only thing that's breaking my heart right now. God, and she used to be your friend. Don't you care about her at all anymore?"

"I fucking loved that bitch!" Santana cries, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she practically breaks down in front of Rachel's eyes. Brittany is at her side instantly, wrapping her arms around her wife as she sobs messily for a moment before composing herself enough to speak again. "Yeah, we gave each other shit when we were kids," Santana chokes out, "and maybe I dropped the ball when she was knocked up, but we all did," she stresses with a scowl, and Rachel silently admits that Santana is right about that much at least.

Santana squares her shoulders, visibly pulling herself back together. "But I thought we were good. I thought she'd always be there to slap some sense into me when I needed it, like I would have for her. That's how we rolled. It was supposed to be me, her, and Britts...the Unholy Trinity 'til the end." She barks out a derisive laugh, wiping away her tears as Brittany drops her forehead onto Santana's shoulder. "But she fucking bailed on us, Rachel."

Rachel opens her mouth to protest—to remind Santana about Quinn's bipolar diagnosis—but Santana holds up a hand to stop her. "Yeah, I know she had a breakdown or whatever, but she fucking wrote us off like we didn't matter at all to her. It was my shoulder you cried all over when you realized she'd disappeared after Finn died. I was the one who blew up her mother's phone and stalked Yale trying to find her ungrateful ass with you. I was the one who watched you fall apart just a little bit more because you needed her...needed to not lose her too. I needed to not lose her. So did Britt," she rasps, coiling an arm around her wife's waist. "But Quinn proved the only person she ever really cared about was herself...and you apparently," she mutters with a hurt expression.

"That's not true," Rachel whispers, sounding far less convincing than she intends and feeling her heart break all over again for all of them.

"Bullshit," Santana counters, pulling Brittany just a little closer. "Stop covering for her because she makes your lady bits tingle and just tell us the damn the truth for once. Quinn never wanted to see any of us again, did she? Not me, not Brittany, not Kurt or Blaine. And it's got nothing to do with her crazy...she just doesn't give a crap about anyone but you."

Brittany lifts her head, frowning. "Is that true, Rachel?"

She can't quite meet their eyes. "It's complicated," she hedges, knowing that Santana is pretty much right on the money about Quinn's feelings—even though Rachel wonders how much of that is influenced by her bipolar disorder and by those demons that keep telling her she isn't good enough and doesn't deserve to have people care about her.

"The fuck it is," Santana counters heatedly. "Quinn's pretty much proved she's not our friend, but you are," she points out forcefully. "And I'm tired of watching you twist yourself into a fucking a pretzel to be whatever the hell she needs you to be while you get nothing but tears in return. I'm sorry I went behind your back to talk to her, but if Quinn really cares about you, she'll step up or step off."

And just like that, the little bit of sympathy that Rachel had started to feel for Santana evaporates. "What do you think she was doing for the last seven years?" she demands angrily, taking a step forward until she's right in Santana's space. "She stayed away because she felt guilty over Finn...because she loved me and didn't think she could ever be what I needed. She thinks she isn't good enough for me, Santana...that I deserve better than her...and you basically just told her she's right!" Rachel shoves at Santana's shoulder, sending her stumbling back a step from the unexpected contact.

Brittany is between them in a heartbeat. "Stop the violence," she pleads. "Santana was wrong to do what she did," she admits, ignoring Santana's muted protest, "and I'm very angry at her too. But she did it because she cares about you, Rachel, and because Quinn hurt her feelings. Our feelings," Brittany amends quietly. "Because it's been two months since you told us about her, and she still doesn't want to see us. And maybe...maybe it does look a little like you're the one who keeps being all flexible and bendy while Quinn kind of rolls over you, but that's probably because we keep watching from a distance through these really dirty, fingerprinted lenses and can never get a clear picture, you know?"

"She's not rolling over me," Rachel defends, her eyes darting between blue and brown. She can see the concern in both pairs, and part of her understands exactly what Brittany is trying to say. Quinn hasn't done herself any favors by avoiding Rachel's friends for so long. "But sometimes she needs me in ways that no one has ever needed me before, and I want to be there for her because I love her...and she loves me." Maybe Rachel has had to learn to be more patient and give a little more than she ever has with anyone else, but it isn't all one-sided. The love and support she gets back from Quinn is worth every adjustment Rachel has had to make—that's what loving someone means. "Can you understand that?"

No one moves for a tense moment—barely even breathing—but then Rachel watches Brittany's eyes soften before she smiles sadly, offering a nod. "We understand," she murmurs, turning to Santana. "Don't we, San?"

Santana frowns, shaking her head. "You get that this is the rest of your life, right?" she asks Rachel sullenly. "Quinn's issues aren't just gonna disappear. You're going to be dealing with this shit as long as you're together."

"Which might not be for much longer, thanks to you," Rachel growls, choking back a sob as the weight of the situation Santana has put her in comes crashing back down on top of her. She doesn't want to believe that Quinn would take what Santana said to heart, but Rachel knows there's a chance she might end up losing Quinn over this—that Quinn might decide to play the martyr and give up Rachel for her own good.

"Please. Like Quinn won't come crawling back the minute you bat your big, brown eyes at her," Santana scoffs, but there's no real bite to it. "She's always been a sucker for you. And apparently, it's mutual."

Resignation laces Santana's voice, and Rachel sighs tiredly. "Look, I get that you're still angry with Quinn for shutting you out, and even that you're legitimately worried about me," Rachel concedes grudgingly, "but I swear to God, Santana, if you ever go behind my back and interfere in my relationship with Quinn again, she won't be the only friend you end up losing. Are we clear?"

Santana winces, and her eyes flash with hurt a second before her jaw clenches. "Crystal," she bites out.

"Good," Rachel returns before offering an apologetic look to Brittany. "I'm sorry for disturbing your evening."

"It's morning now," Brittany points out.

"Your morning then," Rachel amends regretfully.

Brittany shrugs. "You're worried about Quinn. I get it. I'm worried about her too. You're, like, her best medicine, I think, and Santana screwed up her dosage."

"Hey."

"You did," Brittany chastises with a frown. "I'm still mad at you," she reminds her. "But I still love you anyway." She turns back to Rachel with a sad smile. "And Quinn still loves you. So just make her remember she can be as good for you as you are for her."

"I hope I can, Brittany," Rachel murmurs, feeling the anger drain out of her despite the worry and fear still twisting her stomach into knots. "I really hope I can."

"Well, you can in the morning," Brittany decides. "The real morning...like when the sun is up. Until then, you can sleep in the guest room."

Rachel shakes her head. "No, I should get home."

"Fuck, Berry," Santana chimes in. "It's two in the morning. I get you're pissed at me, but there's no way we're letting you traipse through the city at this time of night. So until you officially unfriend me, you can just suck it up and stay put until a decent hour. Your phone works here just as well as at your apartment."

It's no use arguing with both of them, and Rachel is suddenly exhausted—drained right to her core and still sick with worry about Quinn—so she nods her agreement, wanting nothing more than to fall into a bed, burrow under the covers, and cry herself to sleep.