I thought I knew pain when Coach Sylvester made the Cheerios run suicides for hours on end that one blistering day during Sue's Stay Fit Summer Session. I'd gladly trade a lifetime of that to stop the anguish I'm feeling now, because even though I was dehydrated, lightheaded and passed the point of physical exhaustion, I never thought I'd die from the pain. It was purely physical. The ache from my lead limbs was temporary; the burning in my lungs fixed within minutes of greedy pants. That pain passed. That pain couldn't have prepared me for the pain I feel now.
Memories flood my senses as I approach the Pierce residence. All the colorful birthdays filled with laughter and camera flashes, secret sleepovers held under sheet and pillow forts, spontaneous movie nights with the aroma of buttered popcorn wafting my senses, and lazy afternoon memories assault me. I can't breathe; it's like I'm back at Sue's Stay Fit Summer Session all over again. Except this time, pure, gut-wrenching heartache is the culprit that steals the air from my lungs. My throat is constricting too tightly, as if it never wants to let go of all the experiences that Britt and I shared. Because if it lessens and I breathe in, all these things I hold sacred will suddenly slip from my grasp.
It's been three weeks, three grueling weeks of replaying all my missed opportunities, since I confessed my feelings to Brittany. Three weeks of cycling through feelings of grief, jealousy, and self-hatred. I can't take much more of this, which is why I'm squirming in anticipation at the Pierce's front door. Fuck, Lopez! Grow a pair and fight for your girl. Because no matter who she's with, Brittany will always be your only one. She will always be your first and only love.
"What do you want, Santana?" I stop fidgeting and snap to her attention. Oh, fuck. She never uses my full name unless she's serious and from her resigned tone I know that this is it. How long have I been here? God, did she know I was here the whole time?
What a loaded question. How can I possibly explain when I don't even know what I'm feeling? She takes my silence as an admission of defeat and her shoulders slump and her eyes become downcast.
In this moment, I knew that I had to put myself on the line. I had to do it one last time, because this is my only chance. No pressure. I shut my eyes, take a deep breath, and hold it. I'm trying to come up with words that can't possibly express what I feel about Britt. I feel this ache in my chest, like it's collapsing on itself and my stomach is suddenly lodged in my throat. Talking seems impossible but because it's her I have to try. I hear her shuffling and my skin buzzes because she's so close I can feel it. Opening my eyes, I see her turning away and my chance is fast fading. Casting my fears aside I try to muster up the words to help her understand.
I already miss our proximity, and in my despair I start by telling her my physical needs, "I want to be pressed against you. I want our foreheads to crinkle when they touch and our noses to squash while we get lost in each other." I move to do just that until our bodies are flushed. The familiarity gives me confidence, so I continue my struggle in a hushed whisper. It comes pouring out. My words are mumbled against her too soft lips; she needs to realize that I need her to feel them.
"I want to feel your warmth spread and blanket my skin, setting my entire being ablaze. I want to breathe your every breath; to taste and know the things you cannot say with words, so the only way you can express them is by breathing it into me. I want you to be my only lifeline, because I don't need air when I can breathe you. I just want you."
I pause to let realization hit her. Those were the same words I used the first time I confessed. Her glassy, steel blue eyes are softening. She is about to speak, but I need to get this all out so she can understand where I'm coming from. Why I've been so afraid. I've pushed and hurt her so much; she needs to know why.
I cut her off and I trudge on, "I don't want your words." God, she looks so hurt. Fuck. "No, fuck. Britt, let me finish." I take a shaky breath, wracking my brain to come up with the words I need her to hear. My eyes drop to that freckle on the corner of her lip- the one I always aim for when I give her fluttering butterfly kisses. I continue, "What I want is your breath, your promises, your whispers, your dreams and visions of our future to smother and engulf me until there is no more you or I. I don't want you to be my world. I don't want to be yours either. I don't want you to be mine or I, yours because I can live without you."
She gasps at this confession and tries to escape but I don't let her. I shift my hands from her hips to cup her face until she meets my eyes again. God, I'm still hurting her.
"I'm still not finished. I can live without you, but why would I ever want to?" She stops fidgeting. Her eyes dart from my lips to my eyes, searching for any sign of hesitance. "Like I said, I want you to be the air I breathe; to be the blood coursing through my veins. I want you to be my biggest fear and my proudest moment. You are" I amend. Her brow dips and furrows, so I explain, "You are the source of all my happiness and insecurities. You are the growing doubt that fuels my worst nightmares but also the immovable shelter standing steadfast against all my fears. So you see? You are far more than my world. You are what makes me who I am. You asked what I want? Well Brittany Pierce, simply put, I want you always and unconditionally. I just want you."