The Triangle

William Schuester had Quinn Fabray against a wall. His lips were firmly attached to hers, and one of his hands was buried in her extremely mussed ponytail while the other trailed up and down her side. One of her legs was hooked around his and her hands were roaming underneath his shirt. He pulled away to trail his lips down her neck, and she gasped for air. When they both moaned at once, his deep, masculine voice mingling with the high, breathless sound that escaped her lips, something in Rachel's chest collapsed.

The brunette choked back a sob and dropped the sheet music she'd meant to discuss with Mr. Schue. It hit the floor with a magnificent slap, but she simply ran down the hallway. Tears had begun falling when she heard him call out after her.

She reached the end of the row of lockers and quickly turned the corner, trying desperately to ignore his calls and the sounds of his footsteps in pursuit. But it wasn't working.

"Rachel, please." He was getting closer, and her sobs were hindering her escape. "Rachel, listen to me, please." He caught her arm. She fell limp and allowed him to turn her to face him. She dimly took in his disheveled appearance - his vest was undone, his tie askew, and his shirt incredibly wrinkled. His hair stood up awkwardly in places and vague smears of lipstick were spotted across his face and neck.

"Oh, Rachel," he whispered when he saw her tears. "Don't cry." He made a move to wipe them away, but stopped himself, apparently thinking of the circumstance. She wiped them away for him, angrily thinking of how much she wished it was his gentle thumb against her damp cheeks instead of the coarse sleeve of her sweater. She slid to the ground and he knelt in front of her.

She looked at the ugly floor tiles, his shoes, the glaringly red lockers she leaned against; anywhere but at him.

"Rachel," he said softly. "How much did you see?"

She couldn't stop the humorless laugh that escaped her. "Enough," she spit.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Is that supposed to change everything?" she asked scathingly, meeting his eyes.

He dropped his gaze to the ugly tiles in turn. She looked back to the lockers.

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

"No," Rachel bit out. "She seemed to be enjoying just as much as you were."

"Rachel, what else can I say but I'm sorry?"

"Nothing. There's nothing else to say. You've said it all. Actions really do speak louder than words -" She had begun to stand, but he'd stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Rachel." She examined the patterns in the leather of her shoes. "Rachel, look at me." She shifted her gaze to the threads of her skirt. He grasped her chin firmly but gently and guided her face upwards - she was forced to look into his eyes. His studying eyes.

She watched his warm brown eyes examine her own and knew that everything would be out in the open. Why she was so affected, why she'd run, why she was sobbing. Why she hadn't been able to look him in the eye of her own accord.

He'd chosen Quinn. Not another teacher or a pretty blonde woman his age. He'd chosen another student. And not any student, but Quinn. Why did Quinn always get everything? Was it the beautiful eyes, the blonde ponytail, the cheerio uniform? The bubbly laugh, the soft and airy singing voice? The confidence, the bitchy air that followed her? Why was it always Quinn?

"Rachel," he whispered brokenly. Hearing the emotion in his voice brought another wave over her, and she curled her hand into a tight fist around a part of his sleeve. More tears spilled from her eyes as she squeezed them closed, but this time she felt his hands on her face. She was wrinkling his sleeve further as he moved, but she didn't care. She felt him tilt her head forward and place a kiss on her hairline. For some reason, that made her cry harder.

"Don't cry, please," he whispered. He freed his sleeve from her grasp with difficulty, then wrapped him arms around her, pulling her into his lap. She clutched at his shirt again and buried her face in his chest. "I can't bear to see you like this," he told her as he rocked her back and forth with small movements.

Her sobs soon quieted and she realized what was happening. She moved to stand and he helped her. This time she couldn't meet his eyes for a different reason. She awkwardly began to walk away, but he caught her hand. He didn't pull her around this time, but let her decide. When she met his eyes, she was shocked to see the care in them.

And then they were moving closer.

She felt her own eyes flutter shut when their lips met. Rachel couldn't help but compare the kiss to that she'd witnessed just minutes earlier. That kiss had been completely lustful and heated. She'd seen no emotion standing three feet away. But now, she felt the satellites in orbit would be able to process the feelings behind this kiss.

When she remembered where they were, she pulled away.

"We can't do this here."

"Rachel - I do love you."

She was certain her heart stopped for a moment.

"And that's why we can't do this here," she managed to say after composing herself with a swallow. "We can't be caught." She took his hand.

Around the corner, Quinn sat leaning against the lockers, having heard the whole confrontation. She hugged her knees to her chest as tears streamed down her face.