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Song: Hey There Delilah - Plain White T's
Santana has no right to be upset. It's Christmas Eve and it's snowing and she's in New York and it's beautiful but she's upset. She's upset because she had to work late on her favourite day of the year and because her girlfriend is so far away in Lima and they haven't spoken all day and this used to be *their* day. Christmas was their special time where they would play in the snow together and buy presents together (and make out with each other which, until recently, Santana couldn't admit was her favourite part).
This year there's a Christmas party for the glee club, at Sam Evans' house, or so she's heard from Rachel who's going to visit her family. It must be nice, Santana thinks, to have the financial stability to just leave your job for a few weeks. She doesn't have that luxury.
If she's honest, New York is nowhere near as glamourous as it seemed from afar. It's all dirty streets and people who pass right by without so much as looking up. Of the few friends she's made, none are sticking around for the holidays.
So somehow, for the first time since she can remember she's completely alone on Christmas. She tries not to think about the empty apartment that she's going home to. She doesn't think about it on the subway, not when she's walking the final hundred metres to the door, not even when she's fumbling with the keys with frostbitten hands.
Once she's inside though, it's a different story.
It's not that she's afraid of the dark, it's just that, well, maybe just a little bit.
She flicks the switch beside the door, illuminating the room (and maybe part of her, a small part inside of her dared to believe that Brittany would be sitting on that couch). Her laptop's where she left it, on the coffee table. Nothing's out of place. She feels her heart drop a little bit.
It's eleven o'clock now, their party would just be getting good. They were probably all at least tipsy by now.
It's all this thinking about them, she tells herself, that draws her to watching old glee performances on YouTube. She's in the middle of Nationals, Junior year, when a little red (1) pops up on her Skype icon.
No sooner has she clicked to see what it is than she has an incoming call. From Sam Evans. She answers, not really caring that she looks a mess when his face pops up, filling her screen.
"Hey Santana!" He's drunk, she can tell.
"Hey, Trouty."
"All of glee club's at my house right now! Britt asked us to call you. She said she wants to show you something." (Santana's not ashamed to admit that her heart speeds up at the mention of Brittany's name.)
The camera swivels round, and there's Brittany, more beautiful than Santana remembers. She's sitting on the couch, guitar in her lap, smiling brighter than the sun.
"Hi San."
"Hey," Santana breathes out, because she really can't believe how beautiful her girlfriend is sometimes.
"So, uh, Sam's been teaching me guitar since you've been gone. I want to play something for you."
Santana doesn't know what to expect, but as the first few notes drift to her ears she knows she won't be able to hold it together for long. She wishes it was just her and Brittany.
"Hey there Santana, what's it like in New York City, I'm a thousand miles away but girl tonight you look so pretty, yes you do..."
When Santana left Lima, Brittany had bought her first guitar with the promise that she'd play it to her one day. It's been five months, and Santana can't believe how good she's gotten.
"…close your eyes, listen to my voice it's my disguise, I'm by your side…"
Her voice, as well. It's blossomed into something so beautiful in such a short time, Santana thinks. And it's singing to her.
"…If every simple song I wrote to you would take your breath away, I'd write it all…"
Somewhere around the third verse, Brittany's voice cracks, and Santana reaches up to feel tears on her own cheeks.
She reaches the final verse and stops playing, letting her voice do the rest.
"…Hey there Santana you be good and don't you miss me, one more year and I'll be done with school and you'll be making history like you do…"
It registers in the back of her mind that Brittany's changed the lyrics, and she wonders why she never noticed before how perfectly this song fits their situation.
She tries, she really tries to keep her composure, especially with so many people around, but as the final note rings out her shoulders are shaking and she's given up on drying the tears.
Brittany wipes a few from her own cheeks before speaking, "So what did you think?"
"I love you so much. I just- I love you Britt. It was perfect. You're perfect."
"Thanks." A blush makes it's way across Brittany's cheeks, visible despite the crappy camera quality.
"And if I was there right now, and all these people weren't, I would totally rip your clothes off and take you over that coffee table."
"Santana!" Sam's voice echoes.
"Shut up Trouty, I miss my girlfriend," she laughs through the tears.
"I would be totally down with that." Brittany pipes up.
"Seriously though, Britt. Do you think you'll be able to visit me anytime soon?"
The smile falls from Brittany's face, and Santana knows the answer before she hears it. She tears up a little before telling Brittany she loves her one more time and that she has to go.
After she hangs up, the tears don't stop until she's asleep.
She wakes up at seven in the morning, Christmas morning, and opens her laptop again. There's a message on Facebook from Brittany and her heart skips a little (Okay, a lot.)
It's a video of the song from last night. Somebody must have been recording but Santana was too engrossed to notice it. There's a second message, sent directly after the first one.
"I'm right there if you get lonely, give this song another listen, close your eyes. Listen to my voice, it's my disguise, I'm by your side."
A third followed.
"I love you."
Santana plays the video through three times before she tells herself to get up. It's Christmas, and she misses her girlfriend, and she still has to work. She makes it three steps away before she decides on one more play.
In the end she plays it all morning in the background as she gets ready. Half an hour before she has to leave (because even she gets to start late on Christmas morning) she puts a copy on her phone. She listens to it through one earphone on the Subway, all day as she cleans tables, even sitting alone on her lunch break she turns it up and closes her eyes and remembers everything.
Not a second passes without Brittany on her mind.
The song plays all that day, and all the next and Santana starts to think that maybe she'll be okay.
There's only one more year, and Brittany will be here with her.
They'll be ok.