I don't own this characters so don't sue.
I don't have Beta so all mistakes are mine.
please R & R ;)
Quinn and Rachel were sitting on the couch. Outside you could hear the raining falling, the cars and some steps.
"Do you love me?" Rachel said.
"Rachel… when I first met you I knew that I would love you. You were smoking a cigarette and moving your body in sync with a Barbra Streisand song. I don't know why I knew it, I don't know if was because of your incredible similarity with Barbra, or because of those expressive brown orbs with you look at the world; maybe is one of those things that you know is going to happen, without knowing why, you just let it happen. I knew we were going to meet on Monday night in a theater to watch those off broadway shows that you really love and we would be the only viewers, and at the end of the show you would be applauding fervently, and I would quietly observe you from my seat. I didn't know it would happen that way, or that after the play I will be inviting you for a beer at a nearby bar, and you would say yes, and that you would light a cigar and smoke it while regretting that Oklahoma! Performances were played on Mondays, and nobody goes to the theater that day, and it is a shame because the actors need to be paid.
I knew when we were arriving to the bar you would be thrill, because Barbra Streisand would be singing Don't Rain on My Parade, and then I would tell you that Barbra looks like you, but you would said no, that is not a coincidence, that you look like Barbra, not the other way around. With you nothing seems like a coincidence. That night I tried to kiss you, but you looked me with those agonizing brown eyes and smiled sadly, then you left the bar and get lost on the streets. That Monday I knew I will love you, and that love would become pain… but the pain didn't matter anymore.
I thought after that day our meetings would be more frequent, that I would find you all Mondays at the theaters, eagerly to see any performances; but no, it was like if that Monday hadn't... you know, as if nothing had happened, as if I had hallucinated. I wasn't in love with you at that moment, but I was suffering because of that love. Everyone loves differently. I Love that way. I don't care how people love each other, I Love that way. I Love like as a savior loves those who crucify him; I Love like a tree that feeds the fire that consumes it; I Love like a leper which strikes his flesh in search of a miracle; I Love like…. You know… only you know.
At the bar Barbra Streisand was singing The way you were, and then you came inside, and I knew it wasn't a coincidence. You were alone or maybe not… I don't remember it. You were smoking a cigar and swinging your body slowly with the music. I approached to you and then… I talked with the bartender about a woman that smoke cigars, that love beers as much as she loves off broadway musicals, a woman who poured warm liquid on my bed, a woman that I loved.
Not many people could understand this way of love you, this pain. Nobody could stand it, just you. Wasn't a desired pain, but it wasn't unnecessary, it was the correspondence to your happiness. I sensed it a while ago, for example, when Cry Me A River was sounded, my ears were on fire, like if Barbra's voice were fire;; but you were swinging your body, and the joy full filled you, and that pleasure was so different to the fire who was burning in my ears that I had to… you know, I had to go out of that bar and throw up on the sidewalk. I thought that maybe your pleasure and my pain were two different languages that were speaking the same thing. I sensed it. But I knew it with my heart, the night when my tongue was playing with your clit, and the pain in my tongue was awful, but your pleasure made me keep going, and then... then you would tell me that never before you had reached that... you know… but my tongue was bleeding for four days… and it wasn't your blood.
You said that love it doesn't mean suffering. But see, there are people who love that way, without expecting anything in return… except for, maybe, a little of time, some caresses and a hope... yes, that is, a hope. I knew you didn't love me. But that is not important; is enough with me loving you. My body translated your pleasure in pain. There are people who love that way. I'm not the only one, just read some child stories, maybe one of Hans Christian Andersen, maybe the Little Mermaid that one when the little mermaid gives her lovely voice to the Sea Witch and she accepted that every step that she makes will be an excruciatingly painful, and because of love… you know… Disney had tricked us with his movies.
At first I only felt pain when you were by my side, and you seem to enjoy it. But then the distance did not matter. It didn't matter if you bite an apple in the park, because in the library, I was feeling the same pain, like if thousands of ants were eating my throat.
My body translated your pleasure in pain, and it seems that you didn't care. But that night at the bar when My Man was playing, I heard to Barbra like never before, her beautiful voice echoed like never before on my eardrums; I enjoyed every arpeggio, every note. Then you looked at me with your mesmerizing eyes, and you damned Barbra, then you got out of the bar and then... you know, throw up on the sidewalk like if somebody would shed poison in your beer, and you got lost on the streets. When you came back My man was over, and the I knew you had started to learn to love me."