A/N: enjoy!
Also, English is not my first language so all grammar, spelling and especially punctual mistakes are mine.
All of the Lights
Starting from the bottom
"Hey, are you okay?", a five year old Quinn asks, her little eyebrows scrunched together, kneeling in front of a bleeding Latina. "I'm fine," a little Santana replies "it doesn't even hurt, it's just a tiny scratch," her voice quivers, her tiny hands fisting the hem of her shirt "it'll stop bleeding any second." The blondes frown deepens, "are you sure ? Your knee looks pretty bad, did you fall ?" "Yeah, I fell off of the swing," Santana chokes out, "it doesn't even really hurt." The blonde takes a long look at the brunettes face. It's obvious, even for a little kid, that the brunette is in pain. "It's okay to cry you know. My mommy told me that if you're hurting really badly it's okay to cry." So, the brunette cries. The blonde lets her be. Little Quinn asks a few minutes later in a tentative voice, "does it still hurt so badly ?" "No," the little Latin girl replies, breathing easier than a few minutes ago, "it doesn't hurt so much anymore." The blonde smiles a smile so big that it has the brunette smiling too. "Can we be friends now ?", the blonde asks in hope with big sparkling eyes. "Best Friends," the brunette replies cheekily.
And I try to hide but i just can't hide no more
She doesn't know when it happened. It wasn't a special moment. There was no boom, no fireworks shooting out of nowhere, telling her things she was afraid of dealing with. It was more like a drown out process, years of unnoticed moments leading her to this.
Standing in front of a mirror, eyes glassy and red from tears she's been trying to suppress, and a scary amount of alcohol running through her veins, while people are cheering and laughing animatedly just a few feet downstairs, Santana realizes that throughout years of friendship, she fell in love with her best friend.
There is no other reasonable explanation for the way she's been acting just moments ago. No excuse to justify the slap. Blame it on the alcohol, she thought for a moment,
Maybe they'll believe it.
She won't, a voice taunts.
"Fuck," Santana mutters to her reflection "what did you do you idiot," whipping her nose with her sleeve.
"Santana?" a soft knock and an apprehensive voice calls out from the other side of the door, startling Santana.
"I know you're in there. Please open up."
It's her.
The one the brunette has been trying to not think about, that way. The one who's taking her breath away just with one look. Someone who's so beautiful with her thick blonde hair, her hazel eyes, her pinky lips. Quinn, who doesn't even know how beautiful she truely is, Quinn who doesn't even have to try.
"Please San, open up. Please," Quinn whimpers out, leaning her forehead against the door.
And Santana knows exactly that the blonde is trying not to cry. She knows from her strangled voice, years of friendship, years of secret glances, years of being in love with her so deeply that she memorized every little detail about her tells her so much.
There are people who wear their hearts upon their sleeves. You can read them, like an open book. Their faces showing traces of happiness, sadness, anger. Telling you exactly which mood they are in. You never have to second guess because they make it easy for you.
And then, there is Quinn.
Quinn's never been one who's shown many emotions. Her body language, her face, her voice never betraying her. She perfectionized indifference. It's her game with one simple rule.
Never show emotions or you'll lose.
So, the rare moments the blonde shows real feelings Santana knows it's serious. Sometimes your body betrays you. The thing you exactly don't want to do is the thing you're body does.
Perhaps, that's why the brunette has always been weak for Quinn's tears because they come so rarely.
Or perhaps, it's because she exactly knows how it feels to bottle it up until it blows up in you're face.
Just as the Latina hears quiets sobs she opens the door, not having the strength to push the blonde away much longer.
Damn those hazel eyes.
"San," the blonde breaths out, her hands instantly reaching to Santana's face to whip away the black mascara smudges.
The skin contact is too much for Santana's alcohol clouded brain. The blondes hands swiping across her cheeks are burning her. The blondes never faltering gaze is captivating the brunette. Her soft and simple touch is hurting. Having Quinn this close is too much for Santana to handle, especially while not being in the right state of mind, so for once she tries to do the right thing. She doesn't want to lash out, doesn't want to be faced with questions she's not ready dealing with and hurt the girl in front of her during that process.
Santana stops Quinn's movements ready to step around her, knowing that she'll be able to breath again but the blonde won't bulge. Just like Santana, Quinn also decides that for the first time she'll do the right thing too.
Quinn won't allow Santana to run away from her any longer which she's been constantly doing these last few weeks.
She won't allow the brunette to insult her with cruel words every time they share a moment together, won't allow her any longer to pretend she's not home when Quinn knows that she is leaning against the door, listening to the blonde begging her to let her in, in more ways than one.
These past few weeks all Quinn's been doing is reaching out only to be pushed farther away.
She won't allow the brunette to hurt herself while hurting her too.
So for once she decides to confront the brunette, hoping it won't backfire.
The blonde blocks Santana's ways and pushes her determinately but still with a soft touch back in to the bathroom.
Locking the door and taking a deep breath Quinn turns back to the brunette only to be met with the Latinas angry gaze.
"We need to talk," the blonde rasps out.
"What about?"
Ignorance.
So this is how we're going to do it, the blonde thinks
"You know exactly what about San," the blonde replies softly.
"What happened, S ?" the blonde asks "why did you flip out like that ?"
The brunette panics she can't handle this right now.
Come on, think Santana the brunette tells herself.
Think of something she'll believe. Maybe you can tell her that you mistaked her for Brittany. Maybe you really can blame it on the alcohol you're an angry drunk, as they say. Or maybe for once you can tell her the truth;
But you can't really to that, right?
"What do you think happened, Q ?", the Latina snaps "hmm, what do you think? I know you're stupid, considering you would kiss a jerk like him but you can't be -that/ stupid now, can you Quinn ?", the brunette almost yells, her earlier decision of controlling her temper long forgotten.
Quinn closes her eyes. Compared to Santana she won't snap back, she won't give the brunette what she expects.
"I care about you so much," Quinn breathes out,"you're my best friend."
"Puck," Santana starts "is a lousy choice Q you're too good for him. He's not enough, he'll never be enough for you."
"You have Brittany," Quinn cuts her off "you have a girlfriend. I'm allowed to have someone too."
"But not him!" , the Latina yells out "not him Quinn. You just said minutes ago that I'm your best friend and as you're best friend I'm telling you, you don't want to get involved with someone like him."
"But this is about more than being my best friend, isn't Santana?", the blonde replies.
The look on Santana's face is a mix of anger and hurt. The Latina didn't expect the blonde to be this bold. This past few months they successfully ignored this looming question.
They ignored the stolen glances, the deep eye contact, the little things.
Santana closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and braces herself just as much as Quinn for the words she'll say the next second.
"Wow, Quinn" the brunette breathes out, opening her eyes but avoiding looking into the blondes hazel ones. Hesitating a moment she continues "I could never love someone as damaged as you."
The hurt on Quinn's face is instant. It hits right where it's supposed to be. The impact of the brunettes words wounding her in the most painful way, weighting down on her lungs, making it almost impossible for the blonde to breath. For someone who's always been able to hide her emotions, the blondes eyes betray her.
Santana knows that she won't be able to take this back but she panicked. She's scared, petrified even. Quinn's been the only constant in the brunettes life, the only one who stuck up with her bitchy attitude, the only one who looked past her flaws and imperfections, past her brokenness. Quinn is the only one who's able to destroy her. So, the brunette panicked and lashed out.
She know she should apologize. She knows, judging by the tears on Quinn's cheeks that she hurt the blonde, deeply. But she's stubborn. She's stubborn and scared and wasted.
The moment Quinn releases the doorknob Santana's already on her way out, the blondes gaze haunting her.
"You know what San?", the blonde calls out not expecting the brunette to turn around but to listen.
"you're a terrible liar."
Santana stops, doesn't turn around to face the blonde but, as expected, listens.
Holding her head higher and sniffling the Latina walks out the door leaving Quinn alone in the bathroom, sobbing.
TBC ? Yeah, probably !
Maybe..