Chapter Text
There's this moment of terrifying clarity when she realizes that she is actually on her own now. It honestly hadn't hit her the past couple of days. They went to orientation and checked her into her dorm and helped her unpack some of her boxes. But her dads are on their way to the airport now, and so she's lost her crutch. She is officially a freshman in college. She's at NYADA. She's made it to New York City. She's never felt more terrified of what the future holds. She thought the hardest part would be during senior year. The agony of waiting to see if you've been accepted to your first choice school. And then the second round of agony that no one warns you about where you sit between your parents at the kitchen table and stare at your financial aid package that just arrived to accompany your acceptance, and you try to see if there's any possible way to actually do this. That was supposed to the hard part. Getting here. She's been so focused on the getting here part of it all that she never stopped to think about this moment. The moment when her dads are gone away in a taxi and her roommate's stuff is in the room but the girl herself is nowhere in sight, and the chatter of students in the dorm just sounds like white noise because her brain is stuck on an infinite loop of what do I do now. She feels pathetic for even thinking it. This is the start of her dream and she should be radiating happiness, not allowing nervous tears to collect around her eyelashes. Her chest feels like it's constricting a little bit and all the niggling worries that have trailed her from a distance throughout the summer now attack with full force. What if no one likes her? What if her professors hate her? What if she was supremely talented in Lima but is just average at NYADA? What if her roommate hates her? What if no one invites her to social gatherings? What if it's just high school all over again, except instead of slushies it's just brutal insults about her inadequacies? She grabs her cell to text to the one person she knows she can count on to yank her out of her own panic and insecurity. It takes her a moment to formulate what to even say, and she deletes five different sentences before finally just typing. My dads just left. It takes less than two minutes, and there's a chime to notify her of an incoming message. Where are you at right now? She fires off a quick reply. In my dorm room. It appears that my roommate has already moved in, but she's not here right now. She only waits a moment before sending an additional message. This is pathetic. I'm sorry. This just…got really overwhelming all of a sudden. Get out your laptop and log on to skype. She only questions her for a moment before complying, and the little green checkmark by her name is illuminated for less than thirty seconds before the chimes begin and indicate that she's got an incoming call. "I feel like such a loser," she states quietly as she settles her mac onto her bare mattress. "Stop that nonsense now." She hears a voice reprimand her and then suddenly there's a live video of Quinn filling up her screen. "Now tell me what's going on." "I-" she cuts herself off when she notices Quinn's surroundings and that she's got headphones on. "Why are you in a coffee shop?" "Orientation has been insanity, and I just needed to get away from all the people for a little bit. You know how I get with large crowds after a while." "Yeah. Maybe someday the rest of the world will finally pick up on the fact that you're an introvert." Quinn smiles lightly and ducks her head a little as she runs her index finger around the lid of her coffee cup. "Okay enough chit chat. Tell me what's up, Rach. You said your dads just left recently. What's goin' on?" Rachel takes a quick glance at the boxes around her room and the bare walls. "I guess it's just weird. I didn't expect to feel this way. But now that my dads are gone, I just feel incredibly nervous and self-conscious and if I had someone to turn to here I would but-" "Hey hey shh calm down it's alright," Quinn cuts off the onset of a full out Rachel Berry rant. "I'm guessing all those bags and boxes behind you are yours, right?" "Yeah." "Alright. So here's what you're going to do. You're going to open up that window that I see on the wall next to you to let in some fresh air, and then you're going to start unpacking while I blab to you about my first say of orientation. And I'll watch you unpack and you can tell me what you're working on and rant about proper poster placement. Okay?" She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. This is why she texted Quinn. Because she knew she could count on her to calm her down within minutes. Senior year had really been a turning point for them. It started out as kind of a fiasco with Quinn's whole pink hair I-want-my-baby-back simmering hurt and rage that she had going on. Then it evolved into this awkward situation of two people who wanted to be civil and establish a friendship, but neither knew how to accomplish this with the three prior years of torment, somehow impossibly interwoven with mutual admiration, hovering around them. Everyone just assumed Quinn was fine after sectionals, but the reality is that emotional scars run much deeper than that and it wasn't as simple as a trip to the salon to revert back to sunshine blonde. Somewhere along the way, their awkward tentative friendship became less awkward and much less tentative, and soon Quinn found herself confiding things that she never thought herself capable of sharing. When graduation came, Rachel knew that her pride in Quinn as they announced her as valedictorian and informed the audience of her plans to attend Yale was genuine. Summer was when everything really turned into the type of friendship that Rachel had always longed to have with someone in high school. Somewhere between afternoons spent tanning by the pool and late night apologies about past behavior while lying out under the stars, they had become incredibly close. She remembers a particular night when Quinn was fast asleep in her bed and snoring softly, while she fearfully googled the exact distance between New Haven and New York City. She can still recall the relief that overcame her when she saw that they would be less than 80 miles apart from each other. At that moment, she realized just how important Quinn had become in her life. She was her person. Her confidante. And she refused to lose her when they parted ways at the end of the summer. "Q?" "Yeah?" "Thanks." "What, for forcing you to unpack your crap? By the way, how many boxes did you bring?" "You know what I mean, Quinn. And I'll have you know that I packed incredibly efficiently. I just happen to own a lot of things that are necessary to my success here at NYADA." Quinn takes a sip of her latte and peers at the jumble of possessions stacked precariously around Rachel. "Oh, and I suppose your purple piggy bank is crucial to your success in the city?" she teases as she eyes the ceramic pig sticking out of one of the open boxes. "Obviously. What if I order take out and then realize that I don't have any cash on me? The money I store up in that pig will save me the embarrassment of admitting to the delivery man that I have no way of paying him." "You are absolutely absurd sometimes." It's said with no real malice, and they both laugh a second later. "Uh huh. You bet I am. I know it's secretly why you keep me around though. You adore my insanity." She bats her eyelashes exaggeratedly and then sticks her tongue out at the camera. "Among other things. Now then, less chit chat and more unpacking. Or I guess, just as much chit chat, but more multi-tasking." For the first time since she got there, she actually feels genuine motivation to get her life unpacked and settled. And as more things are set up and put into place, the space starts to feel like a place of comfort, like it's hers. But that could also just be because of Quinn's hilarious commentary on the types of students at her orientation. She doesn't even realize how much time has been passing as she continues to converse with Quinn and the number of empty boxes piles up. "And did I tell you that the Wicca group tried to recruit me? I mean, what do they even do? Do they cast spells? Or is it just like, getting in touch with nature stuff?" Rachel's laugh echoes in the room as she hangs up another one of her sweaters in the closet. "I don't think that's quite how it works, Quinn. I think there's a lot more to it than that. So what did you tell them?" "I said 'organizations like this make Jesus cry'," she answers with a straight face. "You didn't." Rachel looks horrified until Quinn bursts out laughing. "No of course I didn't. I'm not my high school sophomore self anymore. I actually just told them that I'm from small town Ohio and have no idea what this even entails so I'd have to give it some more exploration and thought." "My how you've grown, Ms. Fabray." "Oh shut up! If I was in your room right now I'd throw a pillow or something at you." "I don't doubt that." "So you've told me all about orientation, but you haven't told me about your dorm. Have you met your roommate yet?" "No, I haven't actually. I was one of the earliest people to move in, because I wanted to beat the rush. And I didn't unpack much. I left shortly after I dropped it all off. I decided people watching sounded more interesting than unpacking." "So which one of us do you think is going to have a weirder roommate?" "Oh, definitely you." "What! I resent that Quinn Fabray!" "It's practically karmic retribution though. All those years as an only child and raised by two loving parents. You've lasted eighteen years without having to live with any annoying or inconsiderate people. You're overdue." "Stop it, Quinn! Now you're making me nervous." Her voice begins to get increasingly shrill. "No, shh I'm just teasing you. I really do hope you get a good roommate. Honestly, Rachel. Same for me. I mean, at least your roommate can't be that unpredictable. You're in a school full of people all studying very similar things." "Yeah, but NYADA neighbors New York Institute for Art and Design, so they share dorms. Technically, I could get a roommate from the art school. And you know how much personalities differ amongst arts students so stop generalizing." "I didn't know that you shared dorms with art and design. That could be kind of cool, actually. Oh hey, Rach, my battery is dying so I better get going. Plus, I should probably get back to unpack my stuff and actually introduce myself to my roommate." "Okay, well thank you for this Quinn. I'm probably going to text you again tomorrow when I start getting self conscious about meeting people. But I guess I'm just taking it a day at a time. And you definitely helped me out this afternoon." "Of course. You know I'm here whenever you need me, Rachel. Always. And try not to worry so much about tomorrow. Just think about the fact that you're in a place where a lotof people share your interests and your passions. You're not the odd one out anymore. You can rant about the West Side Story revival and no one will mock you. You're going to be great. I know it." "You know, for a best friend, you can be kind of perfect." "Only kind of?" "Mhmm I know how competitive you are. Can't let you off that easy. Gotta give you something to aspire to." "Uh-huh. Well, text me later when you find out about your roommate because I want to know. Just the basics. And I'll text you about mine too. Then we'll skype in the next couple of days and catch up in detail." "Sounds good! Love you, Quinn." "Love you too, Rach. Bye!" Call ended. 2:27:15 After she powers down her laptop, Quinn sends off a quick text. Not even 3 hours. I think we've gotten a lot better about limiting our call times. When Rachel receives the text, she laughs. Compared to that time when they were on skype for 11 hours, they have gotten a lot better. She looks up and admires her Funny Girl poster placed perfectly symmetrically over her desk, empty boxes strewn around her feet. She's still nervous, but she knows she going to be okay. She is Rachel Barbra Berry, and she is at NYADA because she deserves to be there. And she's got the most wonderful friend that anyone could ask for to remind her of that on the days when she has trouble reminding herself.