Regrets collect, like old friends
You pull the zip of your white leather jacket up as far as it will go before wrapping your arms around your chest and hugging yourself tight. You'd forgotten how cold Ohio winters could be. But coming back would be worth it. You hope.
You find yourself standing on the pathway, looking up at the house you spent the majority of your freshman year in. You suppress a shiver as your heart beats faster, but for the first time it's not out of nervous excitement; it's out of fear. You take a deep breath to calm your nerves but when you let it out, it's shaky and suddenly you don't want to do this anymore. You're not ready for this. You shouldn't have come back. With one last glance at the place that used to be your sanctuary, you turn around and walk back down the path.
"Santana."
The soft voice freezes you. You stop walking and slowly turn around to see Brittany's silhouette framing the doorway. The light from her house illuminates her face and confusion fills her features. Her brow is furrowed and all you want to do is smooth the lines away with your fingers. But you can't anymore. You gave away that right. After a few moments you tentatively step towards her, the clicking of your heels breaking the painful silence.
"Hello." You say delicately when you're half way up the path. Your eyes are fixed on her face.
"What are you doing here?" she asks. She doesn't say it harshly, which surprises you; in fact she's still speaking with her soft voice. But it hurts all the same. The fact that she even has to ask this question of you makes you cringe internally. She should be happy to see you, she should want you here. But you took it all away.
You walk all the way up to the front door so that you're finally face to face with her. She looks beautiful with her hair tied back and in her sweats. Her bright blue eyes are studying you and you take it as a good sign that she hasn't slammed the door in your face.
"I came back to see you," you begin, "to talk."
She just stares at you, not uttering a word, so you try again.
"I really want to talk Britt. I think we need to."
You can hear the own desperation in your voice and you wince. You didn't want to show her how much you hurt; you wanted to be strong. For the both of you.
She folds both arms over her chest and leans against the door frame in defiance. The serious look on her face would make you smile in another situation but you know for the first time, she's not joking.
"Fine." She says, staring unblinkingly into your eyes. "Let's talk."
You stare incredulously at her for a few seconds before smirking and saying,
"Err, Britt… It's absolutely freezing out here. I think I'll turn into a snowman if I stay out here much longer." You smile up at her, irrationally hoping that maybe she'll smile back.
But she's looking out into the night as if she's just realized where they are and for the first time this evening, her features have softened. The snow behind you is coming down thick and fast now, and you watch as Brittany follows the fall of the snowflakes with her eyes. Slowly she sticks her hand out in front of you and catches one in the palm of her hand. You both watch as the tiny snowflake melts into a pool of water and you look up to see her staring at you. The soft look is gone and her eyes are clouded with pain and it breaks your heart. And suddenly you remember last Christmas and how you spent the entire holiday at Brittany's side, proudly showing off your new girlfriend. You remember the first snow of the season and how Brittany was so excited, she ran outside in just her pyjamas and you spent the better part of the morning trying to warm her up with blankets and hot chocolate. But you didn't mind one bit. And when you look into her eyes, you just know she's remembering it too.
Suddenly she clenches her hand into a fist and she brings it down to her side. And when the serious look returns, you sigh silently.
"I guess you'd better come in then." She says before turning away and starting up the stairs. "But take your shoes off. My mum'll kill me if you get the carpet dirty."
You wait until she's disappeared upstairs before you make your way inside. You shut the front door before the house gets any colder and then you sit on the bottom step. As you take your shoes off, you marvel at all the Christmas decorations littering the hallway. You smile because you're glad some things don't change.
After your shoes are off, you slowly make your way upstairs and into Brittany's bedroom. She's huddled up on her window seat and it takes all your restraint to not walk over and curl up into her. She doesn't turn to look at you as you sit down at the edge of her bed. Her forehead is pressed up against the glass and her finger is grazing patterns over it.
She closes her eyes for a second before turning to look at you. There's a look in her eyes that you can't quite place and it scares you. You thought you knew everything about her. And when you realize the look she's giving you is anger, you don't think you can hate yourself more.
"So," she starts suddenly, jolting you from your musings. "Let's talk."
And I've been a fool and I've been blind.
I can never leave the past behind.