Author's note: Not one of my best pieces, but I've decided to put it out there because I wanna move on to other work. Constructive criticism is most welcome. Also, this is not a fluff piece.
The restaurant was buzzing, but it was not a scene that surprised any of the patrons. The place was the newest venture by an up-and-coming fusion cuisine chef, one who scoffed at Michelin stars and sneered at traditionalists. His no-holds-barred attitude won over the young who were weary of old dining practices, and those mature or curious enough to move with the times.
A blonde woman walked up to the bar, adjusting her black dress, before perching herself on an edgily-designed bar stool. Taking her cell phone out from her clutch, she glanced at a text message indicating that the person she was meeting was running a little late. Looking around the dining area neighbouring the bar, she watched two blonde socialites air-kiss, while business men in tailored suits tucked into new-age Japanese American cuisine at a table next to them, and a group of young professionals toasted from sake cups that were purposefully designed to be grotesque. The servers of the restaurant were of all shapes and sizes, though they were distinctively dressed in gothic-themed uniforms. Press articles raved about how the place only hired the minorities of society, encompassing areas of ethnicity, sexuality and even physicality.
The restaurant gave her a sense of familiarity she could not quite place. This was not something she typically felt, preferring small, casual dining places to upscale novelties. She thought it might be the overwhelming theme of celebrating and accepting diversity, having known what it was like to be deemed an acquired taste at one point in her life.
An acquired taste.
She rolled the phrase around in her mouth, feeling a stinging taste of bitterness. An expression that made her smile widely the first time it was used on her, now served only to remind her of a period that she thought she had gotten over. Shaking her head, she felt a sense of disappointment when she realized the emotional weight still attached to the phrase.
In need of a drink, she waved the mohawk-sporting bartender over.
"The lady will have a gin and tonic, Puck." The voice that came from behind her was acknowledged by the bar keep.
She would have struck up a conversation with the mystery lady that managed to guess her drink of choice, except that her lungs were threatening to collapse in on themselves. She knew exactly whom the voice belonged to.
The top layer of her skin seemed to spark slightly as the woman moved to stand beside her bar stool, greeting her with eyes that roamed her face,
"Hello Brittany."
"Santana. Hi." Being tongue-tied was an understatement at this point, but that was the least of her worries.
The dark brown tones, the glass-layered flooring. The sense of familiarity made sense now, and she began to feel a little like fate's newest toy puppet.
Russet eyes were observing Brittany curiously, leading her to realize that she must have been lost in her thoughts for a while. Before she could think of a response, she caught a smile of understanding on the woman's face. It made her slightly nauseous to know that Santana could still tell when she was at lost for words.
She watched Santana sweep a tan arm across the breadth of the restaurant before picking up the conversation for her,
"Do you like it?"
The place was beautiful, but realizing that everything seemed to be in tuned with the woman before her was a point she could not overlook. Brittany could no longer tell if she liked the place for it was, or because of the underlying intimacy that it was now laced with.
"It's gorgeous. You must be very happy that it's doing this well." She regretted her polite answer when she saw the tinge of disappointment that crossed Santana's face.
Desperate to move away from the misplaced pleasantry, Brittany pushed the conversation on,
"How's the other one doing?"
"It's doing great. I took some of the money made to start this one. " Santana's brown eyes tinkled as she responded, though her eyes darkened slightly before she continued.
"Mr Schuester and his wife came by a few months ago. They had just returned from the end of his 2-year assignment in France. They were looking for you to seat them, but…I told them you left." Their eyes met upon the completion of that statement, though Santana quickly glanced away.
Brittany lifted the gin and tonic to her lips, feeling the burn of the alcohol pass through her throat, but it was nothing compared to the sear she experienced in her heart. She was not up to talking about the past, especially not to the person with whom she shared it with. The conversation was like a can of worms however, and the lingering feelings were threatening to overrun them like a flood.
"The concept is different though." Brittany stated simply.
The statement snapped Santana out of her thoughts, and she struggled to link what the blonde had just said with the silent yet emotion-filled exchange their eyes just had.
"The concept of this restaurant, I mean. It's completely different from the other one." Brittany wondered if Santana noticed how often she seemed to steer the conversation away from their past.
The restaurateur nodded, "Yeah, it is. I just thought the city was screaming out for something distinct. Then I met Mike, who was this larger-than-life character that nobody wanted to take a gamble on despite his amazing food. A restaurant concept based on society's outcasts, it just seemed to click."
"You make the place sound like a side-show that societally-accepted people visit when they get tired of their boring lives." Brittany cursed silently when she realized that she had spoken her thoughts out loud. She looked for Santana's reaction, and let out a sigh of relief when she saw a fond smile grace her features.
Reaching forward, Santana placed her palm on a pale forearm that rested on the bar top, "You were always the heart in our dynamic pairing."
Watching copper flecks dance within the dark well that was Santana's eyes, Brittany felt the world around them fall away, aware of only her rising heart rate. While Santana held her gaze, she could tell that she was thinking intently about something.
Taking advantage of the fact that Santana was momentarily distracted, Brittany moved her gaze toward their intertwined limbs. She took in the stark contrast in their skin tones, glancing up a tan arm and neck, before reaching Santana's face. Brittany knew that she was staring, but she wanted to have her fill since it was unlikely she would be returning to the place. She felt like a former addict, reintroduced to the substance before she was ready. Santana was her drug of choice and she felt her body shudder being this close to her.
When Santana finally spoke again, the tone was hesitant, so unlike the one Santana used moments ago while describing the restaurant they were in, "Are you seeing anyone?"
Brittany thought about the statement in her head, musing about how that one line was like a door of possibilities. All she had to do was give a negative answer, and she would not want for anything else. The influence that Santana had over her happiness was bordering on ridiculous.
"Are you different now, San?"
Santana's head snapped up, in recognition of her nickname. She searched Brittany's eyes frantically, finding what she was looking for; hope.
"I am. I'll go to Holland with you and meet your grandparents. I'll let you introduce me as your date at office parties. I'll kiss you in front of all these people if you'll let me."
Lacing their fingers together, Santana pulled their hands closer to her body. "When I saw you here, after not hearing from you for two years, I was scared; scared that you didn't have a place for me in your life anymore, scared that I wouldn't be able to show you and convince you that I…no, we…deserve another chance. "
"I checked up on you along the way. I would ask Quinn about you whenever we talked on the phone." Seeing Santana's raised eyebrows, Brittany pressed on quickly,
"But don't be mad at her. I begged her not to tell you. She said you threw yourself into work last year. She got pretty worried about you; we both were. A few months later, she told me you were working on a new venture and she hardly got to see you anymore."
Brittany paused, taking a breath as she recalled the time point,
"I thought that was it. I wouldn't know how you were or what was going on with you anymore. I spent the next few months convincing myself that you were doing well, you must be, because you know…you're Santana. I would be okay too, I'd just maybe take a little while longer than you did."
Letting out a low chuckle, Santana made a decision then to lay it all out. She risked scaring Brittany off, but fate had brought Brittany here, a place that their past had inspired her to establish.
When Brittany left, Santana remembered being angry. First at Brittany, for what Santana had perceived as a lack of understanding, then at herself for not cherishing someone who could have supported her through it all. Resignation came soon after, accepting that the tanginess and after -taste Brittany left on her life was indented permanently on her palate.
Thinking about the past, Santana felt her eyes warm up from impending tears. She inhaled slowly, "I spent the entire time we were apart catching up on what you were trying to help me see all along. I'm sorry that it took losing you for me to learn the valuable lesson of acceptance. I'm still in love with you, Britt. I really hope you feel the same way."
The declaration took Brittany by surprise. She had never quite seen Santana so forthcoming about her feelings. Brittany reached forward tentatively, her cupped hand hovering over Santana's cheek. Seeing a tear roll down from brown eyes, she used the pad of her thumb and brushed it away from the other woman's face, before placing her palm lightly on the surface.
"Santana, I'm so happy for you. And I'm really glad that you finally love yourself as much as I love you."
Feeling her throat thicken with emotion, Santana swallowed and attempted to regain her composure. She wondered about the experiences she missed out with Brittany these past two years. They had another chance now, and Santana made a silent promise to do it right this time.
Wearing a shy smile, she looked up at Brittany. She noticed that while the blonde's face held a smile of her own, it was not one that reached her eyes. The blue hues gave off a serene sense of sadness; reminiscent of how one would feel when they finally got something they wanted so badly, just too late.
"What, Brittany? What is it?"
The blonde splayed her fingers across Santana's bicep before answering, "You're ready, Santana. You're ready to love someone else now."
"No. No, I'm not ready to love someone else. I love you." The desperation in her tone of voice was evident, as she felt the sinking knot in the pit of her stomach get tighter.
Brittany glanced away, straining to focus on anything other than the woman in front of her. After collecting herself as best she could, she met Santana's anxious eyes, "When I left you, it nearly killed me, San. I don't think I can put myself through that again."
Santana could not be certain if it was the rejection that broke her heart or the honesty in Brittany's voice when she expressed her fear of being hurt again.
Watching the tears stream down Santana's face, Brittany felt at odds with herself. She hated the painful position she had placed them in, but the level of confidence she had toward them working out was no longer what it used to be. As much as she wished it was so, this was not something a tearful, heartfelt declaration of love could fix.
Brittany decided that being here any longer would only cause further distress for the both of them. She reached for her clutch, but Santana was one step ahead of her. Encircling her wrist with one hand, she pleaded,
"I love you, Brittany. Don't go. "
Santana had uttered those exact words when she tried to stop Brittany from leaving two years ago. Brittany remembered that day well; as she was sure she would tonight. Parting with Santana was not something she had expected to do twice, though the extra practice did her no favours. The pain seemed to be several times more excruciating.
Pressing a light kiss against the side of her head, Brittany inhaled the distinctive scent that was Santana.
"I'll come see you sometime. Goodbye, San."