Title: Freeze
Author: emmalifje
Pairings: Brittany/Santana
Spoilers: "Sexy", and a released spoiler for 2x16.
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, Glee might just become The Brittana Show.
Word count: ~1000
The sting.
It's all she feels as Karofsky walks by her, cackling with Azimo and hissing dyke into her ear as he passes.
The freeze.
The ice drips down her neck, soaking her top and turning cold the blood surging away from her face as she blanches. It's the cold as much as the realization of what this means that freezes her thoughts, her throat, her voice, and she blinks her eyes open.
The looks.
A dozen eyes bore into her, judging, pitying, laughing. She catches every one, stunned into silence just as she is, until one of them - she doesn't know which - sniggers, and the silence breaks as they let out the collective breath they were holding, relax, and smirk, happily hissing Karma, karma, karma… in a never-ending chant.
She swallows hard, still frozen on the spot, when she spots Brittany looking on in shock. Her shoulders slump as her eyes flow over the blonde's body, letting the memories of her loving touches into her heart even as her mind resists the thought. She yearns for the comfort of her kiss, her smile, and sets her jaw when there's nothing but pity and horror on her face instead.
Her hand rests on Artie's shoulder. She catches his eye, and he holds it. His face is as frozen in shock, but a second later, and the freeze is unnatural; his lips twitch – guilt, amusement, fucking justice - and Santana crumbles at the realization. She brings her eyes back up to Brittany, and bores them into her startling blue ones.
You told, you told, you told…
Her blue eyes shimmer when the message hits home, and it's enough to let Santana feel -
The burn.
She turns, and flees, reaching blindly through the crowd when they refuse to part for her. She hears Brittany call out for her, but it's drowned out by the crackling burn of shame and pain and the hissing laugh of another onlooker. She pushes open the door to the bathroom and rests herself against the tile wall when it shuts behind her and blocks out the resonating laughs and heavy sound of looks she should have expected… she should have known – she did know. But in her mind, her hopes, Brittany was always there to block them out, all smiles and love and kiss and eager touch as she pushes against her, moving her hands there, fingers curved tenderly, breathing her adoration on her neck,and pulling unconscious whimpers from her lips –
She lets out a short sob, but the door to the bathroom opens and she turns sharply away. She catches the flash of blond hair, and stares resolutely at the sink below her.
"San…"
"Go away," she murmurs. Her voice shakes.
"Please – "
Santana swallows, willing her voice to stay even. Her grip on the sink tightens even as tears mingle with the purple slushie dripping down her cheeks.
"I said go away."
"Please, I didn't mean – "
"You never do. Just leave me alone." She sees the warped reflection of herself on the white surface of the sink, and it wavers to show the memory of her satisfied, love-bruised lips curved into a smile two days before. She looks away.
"I'm sorry. Artie – "
Santana's breath hitches, and tears of anger mingle with the ones of shame as Brittany quickly bites her tongue.
"Artie what?" Santana prods bitterly, knowing it will hurt as much not to hear it. She looks up at the mirror and catches Brittany's pitying eyes with resolution. "He what?" she snaps. Brittany swallows worriedly, and her shoulders tense. "He thought it would be fun to tell everyone how I'd be an easy target after yesterday? How I'm pining after you? How I was the only one of the two of us who couldn't keep from falling in love while we were fucking each other behind his back?" She spits the last words, and drops of ice fall off her chin. Brittany takes it as a slap, and pulls back in shock. The silence settles on them, and Santana turns her face aside to hide a new torrent of tears. She gulps to break down a sob that's pushing in her throat, and hears Brittany whispers softly.
"You weren't the only one."
Santana laughs hoarsely, bitterly, breaking off in time to hide the way her voice drops with a sob. "Fucking perfect."
"Santana, please," Brittany says again, and reaches out her hand. Santana cowers away from the touch, but realizes what it looks like and turns sharply to slap her hand away instead. She steps back, out of her reach, and straightens. The slushie is drying on her face, and the stickiness pulls at her eyes as she narrows them.
"Leave me alone. I don't want to talk to you. Dump the cripple if you want, get fucking married, or jump of a cliff with him. I don't care anymore." She lets out a breath as she snaps out the last words. "We're done."
Brittany's shoulders pull back at the harsh words, and she twitches as though she was punched in the gut. Santana holds her gaze, willing her eyes to stay dry as Brittany's tear up. Brittany's lip quivers as she opens her mouth to say something, but nothing but a small questioning whimper comes out. Santana sets her jaw, and her nostrils flare when Brittany's eyes move disbelievingly across the movement – and it turns to pained understanding. The realization is so quick Santana feels another heartstring tear that Brittany is so quick to accept her desertion, but she stays resolutely silent, challenging her to call her out on the lie.
But Brittany drops her shoulders and nods sadly. She turns and mumbles "I'm sorry," and then she's gone, nothing but the instability of the air as the door closes behind her left behind, the memory of moisture in her eyes pulling on the dry air, and the ghost of another memory when she was the one that walked away that Santana doesn't want to remember. She lets the tears fall and reaches for the paper towels. Slowly, she runs the paper across her face, absorbing saccharine slushie even as salty tears wet her face again, and crying even harder when the slushie is gone and all she tastes is the tears.