Hi everyone!
This is my first GLEE fanfiction. Hope you guys like it! And haha, since Demi Lovato is my favourite singer and she portrays Dani, I decided to use one of Demi's song titles for this one-shot!
Happy reading!
I get home from work, and as usual, hear the familiar sound of the acoustic guitar being strummed downstairs.
"Dani," I question as I walk down the stairs. "Did you finish your homework?"
My daughter looks up guiltily from her guitar, her right hand stopping in mid-strum, and sighs. "Uh ..." She mumbles, "no." Dani, reluctantly, starts to put her precious guitar away.
"Sweetheart," I start, my tone gentle, "what did I tell you about your schoolwork?"
"School first, then music." She says. I nod.
"Then go do your homework. It's important to have a good education, Sweetheart, and learn as much as you can." I remind her, lovingly stroking her hair. I proceed to shoo her up the stairs.
"Mom, Dad," I hear Dani walk in and sit down on the adjacent couch beside us. "I would like to tell you something."
Patrick and I look up from the newspaper article we are reading. "Hmm?" My husband asks.
I look at my daughter, a beautiful girl of sixteen, with her long blonde locks and blue ingrains, and signal for her to continue.
"I know you probably won't like this," she starts. I wince at the sound of her words. I think I know what will be her next words.
"Dani, please, don't get another piercing," I say.
"Darling," Pat says, leaning forward. "You know that your mother and I don't like you getting your skin pierced. On the ears, fine. Lots of girls have their ears pierced too. But nose, lips, tongue … that is where we draw the line. You might regret it later on, and we are just trying to prevent you from regretting it."
I nod. "Your father is right, Dan."
Dani's facial expression takes on one of confusion, and a little bit of surprise. "That's not what I was planning to say, Mum!" She exclaims.
"Oh? Then what is it?"
"I'm—" she starts.
Oh, please, Dani, don't say that you're pregnant, I plead internally.
"Mum!" My daughter looks appalled. "Of course not!"
Oh. Guess I accidentally said that out loud. "Well, then what is it?" I ask, relief in my voice. If Dani isn't pregnant, then I guess her news can't be any worse.
"I'm ... gay." I hear her say, but it sounds far away, so distant.
I'm wrong. It's so much worse than being pregnant.
"WHAT?!" I hear Pat yell.
"Dad ... You heard me. I'm lesbian." Dani says calmly. "I know that you guys are mad at me for this, but I really hope that you guys will still accept me and support me." I can hear the plea in her voice, the one to support her, to treat her the same, to love her the same. I can see it in her eyes, too. She is not lying. She is telling the truth.
"NO!" I hear myself scream at her. Then, softer, "no."
Danielle's eyes are apologetic, but she makes no other move.
"Dani," Pat says, "we ..." He pauses and shakes his head, and restarts his sentence. "Dani ... Your mother and I ... We don't support one being LGBT, but ... we, as your parents, will have to accept it because, well, when one is your daughter ..." He trails off, perhaps searching for another explanation. He soon appears to give up. "We just have to accept it."
I nod, agreeing with him.
"You just have to receive our approval before inviting your ... girlfriend over." he continues. I hear his voice falter at the word 'girlfriend'. Saying that instead of 'boyfriend' will take time for the both of us to get used to.
Dani nods, comprehending.
A few weeks pass. I am washing the dishes while Pat watches the evening sports channel.
I realize with a start, after washing the last dish, that I left the plate of leftover breakfast, intended for the stray cats and dogs, on the porch. I turn off the tap and open the door leading downstairs. As my feet tread lightly down the carpeted stairs, I hear a slight rustle. I narrow my eyes in suspicion. Who is it down there? Dani's is her room, doing homework, and Pat is still on the couch in the living room upstairs. Fearing that it is a burglar, I grab the nearby broomstick leaning against the wall, and hold onto the stick.
Another rustle comes, and I tighten my grip. It doesn't come closer, but the sound doesn't fade, either.
I flatten myself against the wall, and steeling myself with every ounce of courage in my body, I spring forward, yank the light switch to "ON", and brandish the broom. What I see next has me blinking in surprise.
No burglar stands in front of me. It is just empty space. But to the left of me, however ... is a different story.
Anger surges through my veins. I clench my hand, and my knuckles turn white.
There right in front of me, lies a very horrific scene. Danielle and another girl, her ... girlfriend, I suppose, are tangled in each other's arms. I caught them in the act of ... In the act of ... them making out.
"Danielle Granger!" I scream.
Dani looks up in surprise, only to meet my face. She knows that she can't conceal what I have already seen. She doesn't respond. Neither does the girl beside her.
"You," I say quietly, yet in a dangerous tone, to the girl beside Dani, "get out."
She wordlessly nods and scurries out of the basement. I have never seen anyone run so fast. The girl bumps into my husband, who is going down the stairs. He lets her pass, and continues walking down the flight of stairs.
"What's going on here?!" Pat thunders.
I don't respond. My husband looks at my presumably flaming red face—from anger—and at our girl's messed-up hair and crinkled clothes. He glances back up the stairs, where the other girl had scurried up oh-so-quickly moments before, and makes the connection. I can just about see the lightbulb go off inside his head.
"Danielle Granger!" He roars. "Did what I think happen actually just happen?!"
She doesn't react, just stares straight on ahead.
"What did we tell you about asking for your permission before inviting your girlfriend over?!" He continues. "This—"
"Get out," I hear myself say, interrupting him. "You disobeyed your father and I, and do you know how hard it was for us to accept that you're lesbian? We finally accepted that you will never marry a man, and that you will go against what Pat and I believe is right—loving someone who is the opposite gender—and then this happens?! And on top of that, you lied to us! You said that you were doing our homework! We trusted you!" I shake my head vigourously. "Get out," I say. "Get out of the house, now."
Dani looks at us, her jaw set. I see her eyes blazing in anger, her fists clenched. She casts a hard, icy glare at us for a long moment. Finally, she drops the stare and turns around, running out of the basement and up the stairs—but not before slinging her precious guitar over her back, and snatching up her purse. Flinging open the front door, she walks out.
She never looks back, not once.
Suddenly, as if I had realized what I had done, I gasp, and run to the door, still open after Dani left. "Dani!" I cry. "Come back! I didn't mean what I said." I see Danielle's steps falter, and then stop. She does not turn around, but doesn't continue on, either. I take that as a sign to continue, that she is listening. "Dani, your father and I still love you. I truly didn't mean to say what I did. Oh, please, Dani, come back." I sink to my knees, "Please, baby girl, please," I beg her, "come back. I'm sorry."
She starts walking towards her car once more.
"Dani! Please ... I'm sorry." I run up to her, and try to lead her back to the house. She doesn't budge. It is as if her feet are rooted to the ground. I clasp my hand into hers. She shakes it off. I latch on again, tighter this time. Due to the fact that she is much stronger that I am, she evades it easily. Her lips pressed in a tight line, she walks over to her car, and opens the door. Then she pauses.
A flicker of hope burns inside me. Perhaps she has changed her mind. Perhaps she will not be leaving. But I dare not hope. I don't want my hope to be crushed again.
She opens her mouth to speak. "When I was six, I thought you guys were the best parents I could ever ask for. After spending over half of my then-six years of life in that terrible, musty orphanage, a permanent home seemed like heaven to me. You were the angels. Eight years old, I still thought that. Ten, twelve, fourteen, fifteen—I still thought that. Yesterday, I thought that. Even that day, a few weeks ago, when I told you guys that I am homosexual. Your reaction was a little heartbreaking, but understandable. But, already, it wasn't as strong and firm as last year."
"But today," her eyes turn hard, "it's different. Completely different. I thought that you guys would support me. I have done wrong, like all those other times—like when I accidentally smashed our neighbours' window playing baseball, or the time I cracked your fine china. But what was different, all those times? You forgave me! Understood that we all make mistakes—we all are human! You yourself said that, Dad! I made a mistake today! That is all! You guys—okay, I understand that I disobeyed you guys, but I'm sorry! I truly am!—are actually chasing me out of the house, for a mistake that I made! How is this mistake different from the other ones I made?!"
I start to reply, but Dani's strong voice carries over mine. There's no stopping her. She's on a roll.
"I don't understand why you kicked me out of the house!"
"I did not mean it!" I cry. "When one is angry, they tend to spew things out that they don't mean."
"I beg to differ," counters my daughter. "From what I've heard, when one is furious, they say things that they would never say out loud when calm!"
"That's not true, Dani," Pat says, stepping forward.
She unlocks the door with a click of the remote, and walks over to the other side of the car and opens the passenger door and sets her guitar gently on the seat. "Dani, don't go!" I beg her. "Please, don't go."
Her eyes soften just a bit. It lasts only a moment, however. As quickly as it came, it leaves, and Dani's cold eyes pierce through us once more.
"No," says she. "Maybe I'll come back. Maybe. I don't know. But if you force me to come back, sure, I will. For a day. Then I'll run away again, go twice as far as I did this time, and then that will be it. I will not be returning home. Don't push this too far." She warns.
I don't move. Neither does Pat.
"I'm not that cruel, you know." She continues. "I feel that I ought to show that I'm grateful for all these years. I ... I think that if you never had rescued me from that orphanage, I'd probably be dead, wasted away, sick, close to death ... Something far different than what I am now. I ... I just need to, to ..." She trails off. She shakes her head, her hair bouncing around her shoulders. Her eyes return to that same hard, cold, icy look she wore moments before. "Never mind."
Without another word, she opens the door to the car, turns the key into the ignition, floors the pedal, and drives off. My legs finally giving out from under me, I crumple to the ground, in tears. The truth finally hits me like a ton of bricks. She's gone. Temporarily, perhaps, but gone nonetheless.
I was supposed to be a mother. A caring mother, one who would never abandon her daughter. A mother, who was supposed to care for her daughter always. A mother, one a daughter can trust. I have failed her. I have failed her as a mother.
What have I done?
I am in no way, a mother. Heck, I'm not even an adult. So, I don't know if that's how mothers think. If this is incorrect, apologies. Oh, and by the way, I might tack on an extra chapter to this one-shot. I don't know yet!
AND THAT LAST EPISODE, DREAMS COME TRUE! AUGHH! If anyone wants to chat with me about it, feel free to PM me!
But anyways, thanks for reading!
-Kiren