Warning: This is a HEYA fic. It's not real.

So, I don't know if anything happened with Heather and Naya in the past or not. I just felt like with all the chaos that's happened recently, I'd write a short piece. If you're not interested in HEYA, that's okay! Don't read. =)

I wrote this quickly, so please excuse any mistakes.

I hope no one gets offended by any of this. It's just some thoughts I decided to run with. I think other people have had some similar ones. If I get a lot of negative feedback, I'll just take it down. And I love both Heather and Naya, so I don't mean to paint either side negatively.

Thanks!

My head feels like it's on a merry-go-round. I keep moving and I can't tell if I'm being pushed or if people are pulling me along. I feel sick, like I'm literally about to keel over and cease to exist. And they all hate me, but I have to do this. It's the only way I can get through. I don't know how to do it alone. I've never walked alone before. I can't. So I'm going through with it. They can think what they want. This isn't about them. I'm just trying to survive.

How did I get here? What went wrong? Why does it feel like my life is spinning out of control?

I remember the day. It was the first week of April. Fuck April. April was such a bitch to us this year. It was the beginning. The beginning of the end.

First her. Then HIM.

(I remember the talk I had with HER that July, when trying to be the supportive friend. She made a joke to me, in the middle of one of the breakdowns. "Well, mine might be dead, but yours made life with someone else." I shook my head in tears, knowing she's always had a slightly sick sense of humor when she doesn't know how to deal. "I'm so sorry." "Me too. And I don't know if I'll ever stop being sorry."

We ended up getting into a small tiff a month later. I did everything I could to convince her that those lyrics had nothing to do with our conversation. They really had nothing to do with anything. Because what's the point anymore?)

It happened so quickly. I was just trying to pick up my morning latte. My phone buzzed. I laughed at first. It couldn't be real. No way. They spread rumors about us every day.

But it wouldn't stop. My phone wouldn't stop buzzing with messages. They all made my stomach clench, but none stuck out like the one from his team:

'Feel like reconsidering our proposition?'

With two links. How they found out, I don't know. But two things were clear:

1. She was pregnant.

2. They knew about our past.

She was off to suburbia and I was about to be off the radar. I had to do something. There was no longer a two-shot. There was a one-shot. It was just me. Alone.

Because she didn't even have the decency to tell me.

'I'll do it.'

And that's all it took. I didn't sell my soul. I sold my life. And it feels like it has literally been drained from me.

The rock on my finger is heavier than the weight on my chest. I didn't know what to do, so I did what I do best. I strove for attention.

And she didn't notice me once.

I don't understand how quickly a person can do a 180. I guess when something "accidentally" comes up, people just deal. What other choice do you have?

We used to talk about it all though. She was so motivated. She wanted to break the mold. And it was never about herself. It was just about making her mom proud. I thought that was so amazing. We talked about it during our break between dance rehearsals one day. I remember that conversation like it was yesterday:

"I just want her to realize how much I admire her for what she had to take on and how well she raised us in spite of everything. I want to prove to her that I can be successful, but still keep my footing."

I smirked at the irony, "Like you'd ever lose your footing."

She smiled and playfully shoved my shoulder.

"Well I can dance, sure, but don't make me walk down any stairs. Things get weird. Really, really weird. Like, so weird."

We both giggled. She makes fun of herself all the time, but it's just because she's so modest. (Although we've both admitted it's best when I take the lead in interviews.)

"What about you?" she asked before suddenly turning serious, "What are you in for?"

Her quirked eyebrow and cold expression made it hard to keep a straight face.

"Pfft, petty theft."

"Always stealing that spotlight, Rivera."

We shared a smile before she brought us back to her original question, "But really, why are you here? What made you want to do this?"

"I just…" I looked down as my face turned a little red with embarrassment "… really wanted to be famous."

She was silent for a few seconds. I looked up at her, worried to see her reaction. Her expression was completely emotionless, though. Until she suddenly threw her head back and burst into laughter.

I joined her with a strained chuckle, but it was more so because I felt uncomfortable and didn't know what else to do.

"Well… You'll figure it out one day, Nay."

That's all she said before she lightly tapped my kneecap and walked away.

Where did that person go? I get it. You make a life and your life no longer comes first. But, what about the ambition? What happened to that? You just give it all up because you don't want that life anymore? I didn't even think that was possible once you hit it in this industry. And they love her. They all love her.

And they hate me.

And she just up and left.

So, I had to make her notice, right? Plus, it's not like it would make a difference.

But she didn't notice. I can't believe she didn't notice.

I made the announcement. We were official. Then the idiot spent the night at a strip club doing God knows what.

They found out. They all found out. It was embarrassing, but I've had worse. Oh… it's like I'm 20 and stupid again.

I thought maybe she'd ask. She never did.

I was at his concert when I heard about HIM. That's when SHE and I began to speak a lot more often. Bad jokes aside, I'm thankful she's pulling through. Even if she likes to comment on how she still looks better than I do, considering.

But even in July, I didn't hear from her. SHE did. We didn't talk about it.

I lost weight. According to the media, I've got a big head now. I can't help it. I can't eat. Some people think it's HIM. Others think it's her. I say it's just me, but what I think is another story.

But she didn't notice, either way.

September came quickly. He's beautiful, you know? He looks like her. Full of innocence. I can't look at him with any resentment. She made him. He's perfect. He's theirs.

So he came along. And my phone buzzed again.

How they find these things out so quickly is beyond me. I read the offer. I thought it over. Why not? What could I lose?

'Okay. At the game, tomorrow.'

I figured she wouldn't notice. She never does. A week later, I felt the buzz.

'Really?'

'What?'

'I guess you never figured it out.'

Maybe she's right. But who is she to tell me that. I was too tired at that point. I decided to just cut it. It was time to move forward… at least, according to my left ring finger.

'Congratulations, Heather.'

'Yea. You too.'

I'm the one who pushed the idea forward on the show. I had told them who to contact. It's working. They all love it. They all love us. Together. Some of them are forgetting about her. Sometimes I wish I could forget about her.

She's got a family. She's got her happy ending.

So, I can't have mine. But maybe Santana can.