Story is set during the first few episodes of season three, so not all facts will be up to date with what is currently going on on the show. This is a Brittana and Fabery story, with a Pezberry friendship.
WARNING there are rather graphic mentions of self-harm. If this is triggering, please do not read.
As the typical disclaimer, i do not own Glee. Ryan Murphy does. I wish i did, but i don't.
"Hey Sanny?"
Santana mumbled an incoherent response as she snuggled further into the leggy blonde who was taking up most of the bed. Neither girl minded the contact and obvious invasion of personal bubbles that had been long popped.
"Can we talk?" Brittany's voice was soft and melodious, floating across the room as if it were mimicking the dance moves of the girl to whom it belonged. Santana was caught by the sound and looked up into blue eyes attentively even though every ounce of her body was telling her that she was exhausted and in need of sleep.
"Sure, Boo. 'Bout what?" Deep brown eyes locked with swirling blue as Santana idly traced mindless circles with delicate fingertips along the exposed milky skin under Brittany's breast.
"What are we?"
Santana's movements stilled at the words that echoed in her head. What were they? Not even Santana knew the answer to that question. They were best friends, of course. Had been ever since first grade. They were inseparable. That was a known fact to anyone who knew of the existence of the two girls. They were each other's worlds. It was as if one could not live without the other. But what were they in regards to the question Brittany was really asking? Were they more?
The intensity of Brittany's eyes looking deep within Santana's was causing the brunette's heart to race as she tried to come up with an answer to the unanswerable question.
"You know I love you," she finally stammered.
"I know," Brittany said with a faint smile. "And you know that I love you too. But like, are we dating?"
Santana felt the unfortunately familiar sting of tears behind her eyes as she fought to hold everything back. Santana wasn't good with feelings. And feelings when it came to whatever it was that was between her and Brittany were difficult to process when she was alone. Having to process those feelings with Brittany scrutinizing her every facial expression and vocalization was damn near impossible.
"I don't know, Brit-Brit. Maybe. Can we talk about it more tomorrow, or some other time? I'm really tired."
Brittany smiled weakly and placed a delicate kiss to Santana's forehead before reaching over to shut off the light on her bedside table, throwing the two into complete darkness as they fell asleep to the sound of their heart beats and collective breathing.
Rachel Berry stood at her locker as the sound of the bell rang out through the hallways and the last of the students scurried off to their respective classes before they were marked tardy. Rachel reached into her pocket and took out the yellow sticky note that she had obtained from Mr. Shue as a pass for her to skip her study hall class and spend the time in the auditorium working on a number. She was grateful for a teacher who understood her passion for the arts enough to know that in the grand scheme of things, her musical ability was far more important than her academic one.
She shut her locker and was about to go to the auditorium when she heard the familiar clicking of a pair of heeled boots and turned her attention to the sound just in time to watch Miss. Quinn Fabray walk through the doors of the very auditorium that Rachel was planning on spending the next 42 minutes in.
With a cautious glance down the hallway, Rachel quietly walked into the auditorium, grateful for the muffled sound of her shoes against the carpeted floors as she silently shut the door behind her.
Her eyes went straight to Quinn. Her head of blonde was making its way to the front of the large room towards the stage. She climbed the steps and walked to the black piano with a grace that Rachel had only ever seen Quinn possess and the blonde's skirt delicately flipped as she lowered herself onto the piano bench, setting her hands against the row of ivory and black and began to play.
Rachel found herself caught by the sound and lowered herself into the row of seats closest to the spot she stood in even though every ounce of her being was telling her that Quinn would make her life hell if she ever caught Rachel intruding.
The truth is, Rachel never knew Quinn could play. She'd never once heard anything about the blonde being able to play any instrument, really. But by the way Quinn's fingers were expertly dancing along the keys as her body unconsciously swayed to the mesmerizing rhythm, there wasn't a doubt in Rachel's mind that Quinn had been doing this for a very long time.
Rachel was startled by a sob as Quinn lifted her hands from the piano mid-note and brought them up to her face. Thinking she was alone in the vast room, Quinn didn't bother trying to hide her tears or muffle any sound as she sobbed freely into her hands.
Rachel stood up and silently walked back out the door and into the empty hallway.
Brittany looked up at the teacher standing at the front of the room going on about History, or Chemistry, or Mythology, or something like that. She couldn't seem to grasp a single word that was coming from the man's mouth, and the sketch of random shapes behind him only further added to Brittany's confusion. She looked over at her left where Santana was looking up at the teacher without interest, occasionally writing something down in the notebook in front of her.
As if she sensed eyes on her, Santana looked over at Brittany and smiled. It was then that Brit noticed that the other blonde, the third of the unholy trinity, wasn't sitting to Santana's left.
"Where's Quinn?" Brittany mouthed.
Santana rolled her eyes and shrugged. Just at that time, Quinn appeared in the doorway and walked into the classroom to take her seat.
"Do you have a late pass, Miss Fabray?" asked the teacher.
"No sir," she responded meekly. Brittany noticed that there was something with her voice that seemed scratchier than usual, and her eyes looked like they were red from crying, but hiding behind layers of expertly applied makeup.
Brittany tried getting Quinn's attention. When the other blonde finally looked over at her, Brittany frowned. "What's wrong?" she mouthed across the room. Quinn only shook her head. Brittany went back to looking out the window.
When the bell rang, all the students quickly filed out the door. Among the jumble of bodies, Santana snaked her arm through Brittany's and the two girls made it through the hallway easier than most, because people parted for them when they walked. Together, the two were on top of the world.
Santana spotted Quinn's blonde hair at her locker as the two girls approached. Santana opened her mouth to say something when she spotted Rachel down the hallway, eyes locked onto Quinn as they roamed her body and then turned back to her own locker.
How is it that I'm the only one who ever sees these things? Santana wondered to herself.
Quinn shut her locker and turned around and saw the two girls standing behind her. "Hey guys," she said, putting as much happy into that greeting as she could muster. "What are you guys up to?"
"This and that," Santana said with a shrug. "So what's with you, Q? And don't give me any crap about being all fine and dandy. I can see past the makeup."
"Maybe I just don't want to talk about it," Quinn mumbled, turning to walk away.
"Talking about it makes things better," Brittany called after her.
Quinn turned around in the middle of the hallway and locked eyes with Santana. "Well maybe I just don't want to talk about it with you."
She turned around and was lost in the sea of people.
Quinn went through all the classes of her day, being in the room but not really being there. Her mind wandered and she couldn't seem to focus on what was being said, only snapping out of it when she heard the bell ring to signal their next class. She initially had planned on heading to her last period class, but her feet led her in the direction of the gym doors. There, she found herself reveling in the safety of the Cheerios locker room. This was the only place where she could ensure that no one else in the school would find her. Only Cheerios, and Sue, were allowed in the very well-kept locker room, but all the Cheerios were either in their respective classes or ditching school entirely, and Quinn had no reason to fear that someone was going to walk in. Even though she was no longer a Cheerio, this locker room remained her safe haven.
Rachel did something she had never done before. She skipped her last period class. Instead of going to her AP calculus class like the good student she had always prided herself on being, she snuck away into the empty choir room. It was the one place where she knew she would be forever safe. Though the large stage in the auditorium felt like a second home to her, the walls of the choir room felt like a second skin. She walked past Brad's piano and ran her gingers gently along the ivory keys. Though she didn't press hard enough to play a single note, she heard them in her head like the harmonizing voices of angles.
Finn glanced up at the clock in his History class. 12:28. It was exactly the time stated in Rachel's text that he was to go meet her. Santana turned her head and watched as the boy raised his hand and spoke without being called on, interrupting the teacher.
"I have to use the bathroom," he announced. The words were spoken quickly and got a few students to chuckle. Santana fought back a small smirk.
The teacher glared at him. "I am in the middle of an important lesson about post World War II America. Your bathroom break will have to wait until either I'm finished with this lesson or until the class is over."
Santana watched as Finn's eyes went to the clock above the door. 12:29.
"But it's an emergency," he protested, standing up.
"And I am teaching, and you are interrupting."
Santana watched once more as his impatient eyes watched the clock like the White Rabbit. She spoke up. "You know," she said, looking at the teacher as her slightly raspy voice echoed through the room. A whole classroom of eyes looked her way. "A teacher doesn't have the right to deny their student the ability to take a piss. It's like, inhumane or something. I could probably take the situation to the school board and tell them that you're preventing a student from using the restroom, and this putting him in a physically uncomfortable situation."
She couldn't help but internally smirk as she saw realization hit the teacher's features when she realized that Santana didn't have any problem getting her fired over something this petty. If there's anything even the teachers know, it's that when Santana wants something, she won't stop at making up any lies to get it.
Finn was confused. It was very unlike Santana to ever help anyone out with anything, unless you're a pretty, blue-eyed dancer. But, it was even more rare an occasion when your name was Finn.
Finn looked up at the clock once again. 12:32. He hopped Rachel wasn't going to get too terribly angry if he was a few minutes late.
The teacher sighed and reached into the top drawer of her desk, pulling out a pass. "Fine," she sighed. "You may leave."
Finn rushed to the front of the room, muttered a thank you and hurried out the door and down the hallway. He took his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Santana.
Thanks. But why did you do it?
It didn't even take a full minute before his phone buzzed back with his answer. It was like Santana knew that he was going to send it. Sometimes it's scary how she seems to know things like that, and she's a pretty scary person to begin with without the ability to read minds. He opened his phone and looked at the words on the screen.
Don't question my motives. Just get your ass to whatever closet you and Barbara are having a date in.
Finn smiled and shook his head as he put his phone back in his jeans pocket. She really does seem to know everything.
Rachel didn't want to seem like an impatient girlfriend, so she fought back the urge to tap her foot as she watched the minutes tick past on the clock above the door of the choir room. Instead, she took out her favorite notebook (the one covered in glittery gold stars) and sat down on the piano bench and began to write.
Rachel was thankful that Quinn had sent her so far over the emotional cliff before Regionals the year before that it had pushed her to finally find that spark to write music. Before that, every attempt Rachel made at tapping into her true emotions to write her songs just seemed wrong. Either the emotional was so dull that the song had nothing to it, or the feelings were so raw that even writing them down on paper seemed taboo. But Quinn had given her that push she needed, and for that, Rachel was forever grateful.
Had it not been for Quinn, Rachel wouldn't have been sitting there on the piano bench writing her feelings onto a sheet of paper, falling victim to the music within her.
As words ran from her mind to her hand like a fluid stream of thought, Rachel pictured the scenes in her head as if she was writing a soundtrack to the Broadway musical that was her life. She found herself writing of a small crush that budded into an indescribable love.
Rachel stopped writing.
The love she was picturing her in head wasn't Finn. No, it was someone much different than the tall jock.
She tore the piece of paper from her note book, watching as the shiny gold stars that bordered the paper glittered under the florescent lighting of the room, crumbled it up. She tossed it in the trashcan beside the piano just as Finn's footsteps echoed in the hallway right outside the choir room.
"Hey Rach." She looked up at him and smiled. "Why'd you tell me to come down here?" he asked. "Something wrong?"
"My instincts tell me that yes, something is indeed wrong. But do not worry, it's not about me. I'm here to ask you about Quinn. I have reason to believe that there is something that has been troubling her lately. And, as president of this Glee Club, I think that it is in everyone's well-being if I knew if there was something wrong in the life of one of our valued members."
Finn looked at her in confusion. "You think something's up with Quinn?"
"I saw her crying earlier today," Rachel confessed. "It actually interfered with my scheduled time to practice in the auditorium, but when I saw that she was so very obviously emotionally distraught…. Do you know if there's something wrong?"
"Why would I know? I haven't really talked to her all that much since after New York. She's not entirely crazy about the thought of the two of us together."
"I am aware that she doesn't fully approve of our relationship, but I figured that the two of you are probably closer than she and I are, and that it most likely isn't my position to ask her myself."
Finn made his way back to the door. "Look Rach. I really don't know. But if you think there's something going on with her, just ask her. I really should get back to class."
Before Rachel could say anything else in protest, Finn disappears through the doorway and the sound of his heavy footsteps died out to a soft, almost inaudible thud as he walked down the hallway back to history.
Quinn took off her shirt and looked in the full-length mirror taking up half of the wall near the showers. Her hands instantly moved to the tender skin along her hips and waist, tracing the lines that marred her otherwise perfectly milky skin. Her fingertips flittered over sensitive new cuts, still red and fresh, and danced over scars that were long healed and familiar.
She felt a new wave of tears stinging at her eyes and reached for her bag, finding the small, almost unnoticeable pocket in the lining. There, in a small envelope, she kept a paperclip and a razor. Digging further through the pocket, she found her pink lighter.
Quinn felt like she was drowning in a pool of emotions that she didn't understand, and she was numbed by the feeling of helplessness. She was slowly losing control of her own life and felt like she was nothing more than a pawn in the Devil's game of chess. She needed to make herself feel alive again. Something that would make her feel like her body is still her own, and that she was still breathing; feeling. She lit the lighter and stuck the already charred side of the paperclip into the flame, watching as the silver metal glowed a warm orange in the heat.
She felt like her very being was going against everything that she had ever believed in; everything she was ever taught to believe. If her parents kicked her out about her getting pregnant, Quinn couldn't imagine her mother's reaction if she ever met the Quinn that was hiding behind a carefully constructed mask.
Quinn took the paperclip out from the flame and pressed it tightly against her left hip. She closed her eyes and threw her head back with a hiss as the skin beneath the paperclip became painful, but she didn't move it away. She only pressed harder as she curled her toes in pain. She didn't move away the source of pain until the heat had faded away and all she could feel was a pulsating heartbeat in the inflicted portion of skin.
Quinn locked at the burn in the mirror. Already, a painful burn blister formed. She took the razorblade and ran it along the length of the blister, opening it up. She watched as blood began to form in the wound, gathering at the sides until it fell down like a red teardrop. She quickly wiped at it so that it didn't get on her clothing.
She reached for her bag and took out a bandage and wrapped her fresh wound before putting the shirt back on. With one last look in the mirror, she fixed her hair and makeup and gave herself the fakest of smiles.
The sound of the bell that marked the end of the school day echoed through the locker room, causing Quinn to jump. With a deep breath, she opened the door again and stepped into the sea of bodies, feeling as if she'd never be able to stop herself from drowning.
Santana and Brittany stood at their lockers, getting their books. Brittany was grateful that Santana had sweetly convinced the small Asian boy who had the locker next to hers to switch with Brittany so that the two girls were side by side. Brit fiddled with the pictures hanging up in her locker as Santana put heavy AP text books into her bag. No one knew that Sanny was actually really smart, because Santana claimed that smart people aren't popular people. To live in Santana's world, you couldn't be both, and Santana was willing to put anything aside to make room for her popularity.
Just like every day, once Santana had finished packing all of her own homework, she turned to Brittany's locker to make sure that the blonde had all of her necessary books. It wasn't like Brit was really going to do much of the homework by herself anyway; Santana spend hours each night with her, making sure that she got passing grades in all her classes. Had it not been for Santana taking the time out of her life to always be there for Brittany, there's a chance that her favorite blue-eyed dancer would have been held back years ago, and the two wouldn't be able to go to school together. With Santana's help, the school viewed Brittany as being dim-witted, but functioning.
Santana packed all of Brit's books into her bag and looked up to say something to her, but was distracted by something she saw on the other side of the hallway where Quinn's locker was. Since she was no longer a cheerleader, Quinn didn't stand out in the halls by wearing the signature red and white uniform that marked a Cheerio, but she stood out in a way that was entirely Quinn.
Apparently, Santana wasn't the only one who noticed. Her deep brown eyes scanned the hallway until they landed on one Rachel Berry, who stood at her own locker just a little further down. Though her hands were taking books out of her licker and putting them in her backpack, her eyes were fixated on Quinn. Santana could just barely see as Rachel's eyes scanned up and down Quinn's body. Just then, Rachel dropped one of her books.
Santana fought back a chuckle as she watched the short brunette quickly look around the hallway in embarrassment and bend down to get the book. When she looked up and back over in Quinn's direction, the graceful blonde was no longer there. Santana watched as disappointment obviously showed itself in Rachel's expression.
"Whatcha looking' at Sanny?" Brittany asked, turning to look in the direction where Santana's eyes were. She turned to look at Brit and their eyes locked. Brittany noticed a familiar sparkle in Santana's eyes and wondered what the brunette had been thinking about.
"Hey Brit-Brit, you ever think that Man-Hand could be a…. a unicorn?"
Brittany cocked her head to the ride and furrowed her eyebrows at the thought, but a small smile played at the corners of her lips when Santana used the word that the two of them understood the meaning of.
"I don't know," she admitted. "A bi-corn, maybe. Why? You interested?" Santana faked shock and playfully smacked her as Brittany wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
"Don't even joke about such things," Santana warned. "And I don't know why I'm thinking it. I've just had a… a hunch, lately."
"Like unicorn radar?"
Santana threw her head back and laughed out loud. Several heads turned and looked as her infectious and very uncharacteristic laugh caught the attention of most everyone in the hallway. Santana shut Brittany's locker and linked their pinkies together. "Yes Brit," she answered. "Exactly like unicorn radar."
ahh! chapter 1 is done! please tell me what you think :) This is my first FanFiction, so i'm really excited about it and hope you guys all like it. Review please :)