You entered the hallways, watching students scrambling to move past you, like being within a meter's radius of you could wound them. It wasn't unfamiliar - this has been the image that greeted you every day since you first donned your Cheerios uniform. Except, instead of the rush you felt on your first day as a cheerleader, from the exponential hike in power and status your pleated skirt provided, all that was left were waves of emptiness.

No one came forward to give you a hug, no one exchanged pleasantries with you, no one acknowledged your presence with a smile, no one dared to meet your eye. And like you always had, you stood a little straighter, puffing your chest and lifting your chin, convincing yourself that it was all worth it. The vile protein shakes you were made to drink to maintain the cheerio physique? Worth it. The boys you pleased to maintain your status? Worth it. The long training hours that left you all but drained? Worth it. It was all worth it.

If only you remembered what 'it' was.

You didn't know if it is a blessing or a curse, the way your body always knew when she was near. Before you could control yourself, and against your better judgement, you turned towards her. Your body erupted when you saw her - she was perhaps just a little more beautiful than you remembered as she quietly conversed with Tina in the hallway. Butterflies exploded in your stomach, a sharp contrast to the ache in your chest that instantly amplified when she came to sight. You haven't spoken to her in a week, her last words to you ringing in your head like a broken record.

Santana, what are you so afraid of?

You avert your eyes immediately, in fear of self-combustion. You fumble with the lock of your locker, occasionally letting your eyes wander back to her, like a recovering addict looking longingly at their brand of heroin. And, somewhere along the line, your hands stopped working, subtle glances became full on staring.

God, she was beautiful.

And perhaps it was a miracle, or that God was taking pity on you, or she just sensed your attention, she looked back at you, nodding distractedly at Tina's story. You were hooked instantly, unable to look away from those ocean blue eyes. You let your mouth curl into a little smile. Maybe today will be different, maybe Brittany will smile back, maybe she'll give you a little wave, or maybe, just maybe, she will invite you to stand beside her, like you always have.

Nothing prepared you for the sharp flash pain that shot into your chest when she looked away, like she never saw you, like you were never there. You choked on your breath, a whimper escaping your lips as you clutched on your chest, desperate for some form of relief.

Santana, what are you so afraid of?

You didn't know. What were you so afraid of? What was stopping you from walking right up to her to demand the attention you so obviously wanted?

And then you were angry, fury coursing through your veins, blood pumping through your ears. You were Santana freaking Lopez, Queen of McKinley High, you get anything you wanted, everything you wanted. So who was going to stop you from marching right up there to kiss the breath out of her?

So you did.

Except the adrenalin ebbed out of you with every step you took. And by the time you were in front of her, all that was left were your wobbly knees, and the rapid pumping of your heart.

You forgot all that anger you had just seconds ago. You forgot the determination within you just instances ago. You forget the butterflies in your stomach just minutes ago. Instead, you remembered the ugly bruises Rachel got from being shoved into lockers. You remembered Tina curling in the corner of the bathroom, sobbing into her slushy stained shirt. You remembered Kurt struggling to keep from breaking down after his name was announced for Prom Queen.

You remembered what 'it' was.

And Brittany standing in front of you was just every reminder of how wrong things could go if you kissed her right there and then.