Santana's POV:

I sighed and reached for another beer. It had been two years since my girlfriend, Brittany, left for the second Civil War. After years of tension, the U.S. began to take their conflict of homosexuality to the battlefield. Some states wanted to outlaw gay marriage throughout the entire country, so they tried to rebel. Now, the whole country was at war. Brittany would have never gone to fight in a war; she hated violence. Unfortunately, she was drafted, and we couldn't afford to pay our way out of it.

Flashback:

As I hugged Brittany for the last time, I couldn't let go. "San, I have to get on the train," Brittany whispered.

"I know," I sniffled. It killed me to let go of her. "Promise me you'll come back home?"

"Not even the largest amount of blood will keep me from coming back home to you," she answered fiercely. She pulled me close to her and kissed me passionately. She stroked my hair. "Bye, baby."

"Bye, Britt." I tried not to cry as she stepped on the train and the doors closed. I watched the train leave. Long after it was gone, I still stared at the tracks, as if some miracle would bring the train back. After another hour, it was clear that I would not be seeing Brittany for a long time. On the drive home, I cried non-stop. I cried through my dinner. That night when I went to bed, I cried next to the empty pillow on the bed.

My eyes were red and puffy the next morning. I washed my face and decided to get a beer to cheer myself up. I walked to the bar across the street. The waitress brought me a large glass of foamy beer. I drank it slowly. It tasted so damn good! I was about to slide the beer over to the other side of the table, but then I remembered that I had no one to share it with. I poured the beer into my mouth, so I could distract myself with the amazing taste. That day, I promised myself that I would never cry again. But the only way I could keep myself from crying was by drinking.

"Oh San, you're so silly when you get drunk!" Brittany's voice popped into my brain as my head started to hurt and I stumbled off the chair. She'd definitely be ashamed to see how much I was drinking these days. She liked to drink, too, but she'd never drink all the time like I was. The thought of Brittany made my eyes moist. Don't fucking cry! I took another huge gulp out of my cup, and my eyes drooped.

Brittany's POV:

I followed General Garfield into a cheap saloon in Alabama. General Garfield ordered a big foaming cup of beer. It reminded me of the beer that Santana loved. I asked for one, too. If I was with Santana, we would giggle and share the drink. I put my elbow up on the counter and leaned my head on my hand. I missed Santana so much. It had been so long since we got our sweet lady kisses on. I continued to drink my beer. The only reason I drank so much is because having Santana's favorite drink on my lips was the closest thing I could get to kissing her.

"Thinking about your girl again?" General Garfield asked knowingly.

"Yeah," I sighed.

"Well to get out of this depressing mood, why don't you tell me that story of how brave your girlfriend was in high school?" she suggested with a smile.

"Alright. During our senior year, this giant named Finn Hudson just shouted in the middle of the hallway 'When are you gonna come out?' A girl in the hallway happened to hear him, and she told her uncle, who was a candidate. Then he called her a lesbian in his campaign commercial. After that day, guys would stare at her as if she had three eyes. Girls on the Cheerios refused to change in a locker room with a lesbian. But Santana wouldn't let them bully her. She cut them with her vicious words!" My voice grew more confident as the story continued. I was still proud of the way Santana had acted during our senior year. "The most painful part for her was coming out to her Abuela. Her Abuela felt very uncomfortable about having a lesbian in her family, so she told Santana she never wanted to see her again. But when Abuela was in the hospital for the last few weeks of her life, she started to call everyone Santana. She begged for Santana. Santana visited her Abuela. Her last words were 'Santana, I love you…no matter who you love.'"

General Garfield dabbed her eyes with a napkin. "You must be really proud to have a girlfriend like that," she said softly.

"I am," I replied. Even though I'd told that story several times, it still made my eyes water. No, stop. I couldn't cry. I hadn't cried since the day I left Santana. I drank more beer to distract myself. Santana would have thought I was a hypocrite, since I was always telling her not to drink obsessively. But this was the only way I could keep myself from crying.

Santana's POV:

I felt a nudge to my shoulder. "Hon, the bar is closing in a few minutes," the waitress said to me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I must have passed out," I apologized.

"It's okay sweetie. It happens to everyone." She helped me up and opened the door for me.

It was really dark outside. I couldn't tell how long I'd been asleep. I went into my small house. I didn't even bother changing my clothes. I was too tired. I climbed into our, I mean my, bed and stared at the emptiness on the other side. That empty half of the bed had tortured me for two years. Why didn't I just move my pillow to the middle of the bed so I wouldn't have to feel that way anymore? I slid my pillow over and closed my eyes.

"Baby, you're crushing me!" a familiar voice in my head laughed. It was Brittany's voice again. Reluctantly, I moved my pillow back to its original spot. I guess I would have to continue to be tortured by the empty side of the bed. My heart physically ached as I slowly drifted to sleep.