Making Up – Brittany
"What the FUCK, Brittany?" Santana raged, pushing herself back up against the bedroom wall as far opposite of Brittany as she could, almost as if she knew if she came to close to the blond then her anger would become all too real.
She began to cry, sliding down the wall slowly, sitting in a heap on the floor - her head in her hands. Brittany began to walk over to her, with severe uncertainty, stopping in the middle of the room and looking down at her feet. She whimpered, and it set Santana off again.
"How could you - why would you kiss HIM?" Santana questioned through her tears, trying to resist pulling at her own hair, clawing her own arms, as her heart tried to make her body rip apart from the inside.
"You had me, Brittany. And you go and do something like this. Why?"
"Had?" Brittany takes a step backward as if struck, "No, Santana," She allows herself to cry then, finally, slumping down against the foot of Santana's bed.
They aren't facing each other. But soon their breathing begins to even out as they subconsciously match each other's breath.
"I love you," Brittany said into the open air with such certainty, such abruptness, that Santana had to believe it.
"I love you more than could be good for me," Santana replied with a kind of sadness.
"I'll do anything, San," Brittany said with the same amount of conviction, but with a certain shyness as well that broke Santana's heart all over again.
Brittany turned slightly so that she could look Santana in the eye. Santana's eyes, surprisingly, did not waver nor did they sting her.
"I know Britt. Just….you need to give me some time. You give me that, and eventually, I'll be able to give you everything else."