Author's Note: So I had a shitty situation happen to me over the last two years that involved an intense friendship that turned into more than friends and that led to disaster. I have really wrestled with a lot of it and I thought that writing about some of those events and maybe hashing it out through the Brittana-universe might be helpful. So we'll see. Hopefully more people will wanna go on this little journey with me. Most of this is AU, but I'll be including a lot of Glee characters, just not using them as they are on the show. But we'll see where this fic takes me.
So the big italics parts are flashbacks and the flashbacks are not in chronological order as they appear.
Enjoy!
It's easy to fall in love
But it's so hard to break somebody's heart
What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield
Once lust has turned to dust and all that's left's held breath
Forgotten who we first met
What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield
People always say that the past should just stay in the past. It's a hell of a lot easier to move on from something when the past stays far far away. Out of sight out of mind. Any other cliche about moving on you could think of. And wouldn't that be perfect? Wouldn't that be nice if that is how life worked? How convenient would that be: if every single action we made, every single word we spoke, did not come back to haunt us in our present lives. If every single sad break up song didn't make you so very aware of every little crack in your heart currently. Every "what if" doesn't eventually rear its ugly head. Every sound of laughter, touches, stolen glances, winks doesn't creep it's way back into your memory. It all has a way of sneaking right into the present. The past should stay in the past. See, by definition, the word "remember" is the opposite of "dismember". When we dismember something, we tear it apart, piece by piece. But when we remember: we are putting things together, putting things back in place. So even though we want to bury our past lives deep in some closet in outer space, sometimes when we remember it's a way of putting things back together.
When your past, and the choices and decisions you made, is what brought you to where you are today…should you really keep it that far away and ignore it? Or should you look at it and remember it...putting everything back together to its rightful place?
/
Brittany could reach into her pocket and hit next on her iPod. That's what she should do. But her iPod is in her winter coat pocket and she has her heavy gloves on: it's too much effort. Sure, that's a good excuse to listen to yet another sad song and getting lost in her thoughts.
She's sitting on the L on her way back to her apartment after class. Brittany has lived in Chicago for six months and it feels like the most she's done is memorize the red line stops on her daily commute. Between graduate school classes, her internship, and her job at the dance studio that helps her pay her rent- her life is pretty much spent going from one job to another on public transit. Brittany likes her time on the L though. It's her chance to do her favorite activity (outside of dance): people watch. She also gets to re-energize and zone out, playing her iPod and drifting off in her head. On the train she doesn't think about grad school, her dance class lesson, or work to do for her internship at the agency.
Every now and then her iPod fails her and will go to one of the many sad songs on her playlists and her mind will drift somewhere very specific. Someone very specific. Instead of hitting next, Brittany leans her head against the window, looking at the city as it passes her by, and lets her mind stay on that someone for a while.
"This is Sheridan." The voice muffled through her headphones announces; Brittany jumps up from her seat and waits for the train doors to open. It's February in Chicago and absolutely freezing. Before she moved here she had only visited the city in the spring time and the summer. It was absolutely gorgeous then. Despite everyone's warnings about the brutal Chicago winters, she never really expected it to be this cold. The doors open and immediately she is hit with the chill. She shoves her hands into her pockets and dips her head down to nuzzle her face into her scarf for extra warmth.
It's 6 p.m. and all Brittany can think of, as she takes hurried long strides from the train stop to her apartment, is how excited she is to change into sweatpants and watch Netflix before passing out. It's moments and thoughts like this that Brittany has to remind herself that she is actually 24 years old, and not 42 years old. It's a Friday night for God's sake. But her legs are tired and her brain feels like mush after a long class discussion on mental illness. She wants chips and sweats and a sad movie. Oh, and some tea. That sounds like heaven. A flash of a thought crosses her mind and she wonders what that someone she was thinking about on the train is doing this weekend. Probably something fun. Probably out with friends, like a normal 24 year old.
As she approaches her block, yet another sad song comes on her iPod. Brittany inhales sharply, from the cold, and the melancholy sound of the piano notes. She hurries up the steps and pulls out her keys, fumbling with them due to her gloves. She eventually gets inside the warm building and is very grateful that she lives on the ground floor. Once in her apartment she kicks off her boots and throws her keys on a nearby table.
All of the lights are off, and she quickly figures that none of her roommates are home. As she makes her way to her small bedroom down the long hallway, she begins to shed her many layers of scarves, hat, and extra sweaters. When she gets to the confines of her own room, she closes the door and collapses on the bed. The music is still playing through her headphones, and she lets the exhaustion wash over her body
/
"Please…Please just…I can't lose you in my life. You don't know what you mean to me," Brittany begged in the receiver of her cell phone. Tears running down her phone face, and her nose becoming runny.
"You're not. You're not losing me. I'm your friend." The voice on the other end says quietly, calmly.
"You know that's not what I mean," Brittany finds the strength to say. Her voice still restricted through sobs.
/
Brittany rolls over and unlocks her cell phone. She opens up the Facebook app and types up a familiar name in the search section. It's almost like her fingers are on autopilot as they type and click the familiar buttons. A face that Brittany knows all too well pops up in the profile picture. There's a new picture that has been uploaded that day, one face sticks out among the familiar group of friends, all happy. Brittany stares at the one face in the middle, trying to commit every feature and detail to memory.
/
Hands are entwined with hers, pulling her up the stairs. A huge smile is spread across Brittany's lips as she is frantically being pulled. Once at the top of the staircase she is turned around and pushed into the hallway wall, another pair of lips instantly connected to hers. Hands are on her waist pulling her further into the other body. Brittany wraps her arms around the other girl's neck, never breaking contact.
"Mmm" Brittany manages to get out in between kisses. A tongue pushes against her lips and she immediately grants access. She is backed up down the hall and pushed into her bedroom, the other kisser not even bothering to close the door behind them.
"Your friends are right downstairs," Brittany manages to get out as she is seated at the edge of her bed. A smile is still plastered on her face despite the nervousness of being caught running through her body.
"So?" The other girl in the room is now in Brittany's lap, straddling her, and their lips are back on each other's, hands roaming each others bodies. As the kiss continues, Brittany wonders if she will ever stop smiling like this.
/
Deep breaths in. Deep breaths out.
Brittany closes out of Facebook on her phone and throws the device down on her bed. There is a familiar ache in her chest and stomach. She raises her hand from her side and that familiar shaky feeling is there. She looks closely at her hands to see if they are actually shaking. When she notices a small tremor she closes them into fists several times to make them stop.
/
"So…" Brittany draws out, as her eyes go between the drink in front of her and to the girl across from her at the table. Brittany is nervously wringing her napkin to preoccupy her shaky hands, and possibly dry them from the inevitable sweat that is seeping from them. "What's new?" Her voice comes out more nervous than she intended.
"Nothing really," The response from the other girl is short, disinterested. There's an ache in Brittany's stomach, and when she releases her intense grip on her napkin, she can feel them shaking slightly in her lap. Silence hits the table, and Brittany goes back to staring at the drink in front of her wracking her brain to think of a question, a sentence, anything. Anything to prevent her from losing her grip on this. But she can't. So, instead, she grips as tightly as she can to her napkin again.
/
Brittany's stomach rumbles and she knows she should make herself something to eat. But she's tired and cooking a whole meal for herself seems silly. Instead she rolls over again and closes her heavy eyes.
/
Brittany's stomach hurts from laughing so much. The girl across from her is talking a mile a minute, telling a story about her childhood. The girl's eyes light up and her hands are flying animatedly through the air as she speaks. Brittany isn't even sure what the point of the story is, but both girls are so caught up in their laughter that it doesn't matter. All she was is to spend forever hearing every single story from the girl in front of her, and hearing the sounds of their laughter mixed together.
/
Brittany reaches for her phone again and opens up her texts. The last message she received was from one of her roommates a few days ago, asking about the broken dishwasher. She opens her recent calls and sees that the only person she has called in a month has been her mom. Pathetic.
/
"The funniest thing happened at the school today," Brittany rattles on to the voice on the other end of the phone. She waits for a response before she continues. A few beats pass before she finally gets a distracted response.
"What?" The voice is disinterested. Brittany sighs, frustrated, expecting more excitement.
"Well, if you don't want to hear it…" Brittany trails off, annoyed.
"Brittany." The name is stated so forcefully that it makes Brittany's chest hurt. "Obviously I care. Am I not on the phone with you? Did I not call you today after you told me you wanted to talk? So, yes I care." The sentences are said out of annoyance, and frustration. Brittany can feel her own anger rise.
"Well, you just sound-" She can't get her sentence out, before she is cut off.
"How do I sound? I'm listening. Just tell the story already," there is a loud sigh on the other end of the phone. And Brittany wonders how this is what has become of their conversations, and she can't even remember the story she wanted to tell anymore.
"Forget it," she says dejectedly.
"Fine," the other voice responds, distracted again. "Look, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later."
"Oh, okay…love you." Brittany lets out hopefully, almost pleadingly.
"Bye."
Brittany sees the call is disconnected and she squeezes her phone in her hand before throwing it across the room angrily.
/
Brittany finally sits up in her bed and decides to change into her sweatpants, something that she has been craving for hours. She pulls her large purple NYU sweatshirt over her head, and her old dance camp sweatpants, feeling extra warm and comfy. She walks out of her bedroom and right into the kitchen; conveniently located right outside of her bedroom. She still doesn't feel like actually cooking something, so she grabs a bag of chips and some salsa, which she pours into a bowl and goes down the hallway toward the living room. She pulls a blanket over her lap, opens up her iPad and thinks about what she wants to watch on Netflix. She cuddles into a pillow next to her, pulling the blankets up as far as they can go to warm herself up.
/
"Your feet are cold," Brittany giggles, and the arms around her waist pull her further into them.
"So are yours," the girl's voice from behind Brittany whispers into her ear and nuzzles into her neck. Their legs are intertwined under the blankets. The girl's arms tighten around Brittany and she feels small kisses on her neck. One of the hands wrapped around her waist creeps up slowly up her shirt, sending a shiver down Brittany's spine. The girl's hand rubs small circles on Brittany's skin, just above her hip bone. "Good thing we can warm each other up, right?" The voice husks into Brittany's ear. Brittany squeezes one of the arms around her waist and leans back impossibly closer to the girl behind her.
Brittany sighs, and closes her eyes, feeling that in that moment this is what people mean when they say they are in love. This is that feeling she had been missing out on for all these years. She thought it was some impossible, unreachable goal. But really, it was so easy to fall in love. Especially, with the girl who was holding her so tightly and protectively.
/
Brittany rolls over on her side, not really paying attention to the Breaking Bad episode she decided to watch. She thought that she would watch a romantic comedy, but right now she wants to watch people kill each other, and do meth. That's what kind of mood she ended up in. Before she knew it the exhaustion of the day finally was taking over and she was drifting off to sleep; a bag of chips on the ground next to her, an iPad in her lap, and hugging a pillow to her as tightly as she could.
/
The car ride into the city was quiet. Other than a hug outside of the airport, after Brittany had loaded the other girl's car (which seemed pretty forced to Brittany) there hadn't been much talking in the car. The other girl was driving, and focusing on the roads, not looking in Brittany's direction at all. Meanwhile, Brittany was looking out the window. It was raining and completely grey outside. In the distance she could see bits and pieces of the New York skyline from the turnpike, through the clouds and rain. She felt like she was going to be sick. A few times on the drive she wanted to ask the girl driving to pull over so she could throw up. Instead, she just took deep breaths and looked out the window. 'At least she picked you up from the airport.' Brittany thought to herself, wistfully.
The other girl switched the radio stations and quietly sung along. Brittany glanced back over at her. Everything in her body hurt, just looking at her. She wondered if the other girl was hurting. The other girl seemed so happy, so confident. Brittany quickly realized that the other girl was definitely not hurting as much as she was. She went to go back to looking out her window when her thoughts were interrupted, "So excited to be home for the summer?"
"Yeah," Brittany said quietly, trying to pick her words carefully. "It'll be nice to see some people before I move to Chicago."
"Cool," the other girl said, while nodding. Brittany wasn't sure what she wanted the other girl to say. But she wanted something more than cool. She wanted more than a forced hug at the airport. She wanted anything more than awkward silence in the car. But she wouldn't say that. Instead she let the realization hit her, like a ton of bricks: that this is what they had become. This is what it would be like between the two of them now.
"Yeah, cool," Brittany couldn't help herself from scoffing ever so slightly. She knew the other girl had noticed, but didn't care anymore. She leaned her head against the glass, as the rain trickled down the outside. She closed her eyes and felt a tight compressed pain in her chest. She wanted to open the window and throw up. Sweat was dripping from her hands, and she thought that she was going to start sobbing right on the spot, because it was hard for her to swallow due to the tightening in her chest and throat.
She took a deep breath in and wondered if this is what a break up felt like. Sure, there never was nothing official to break up from, but it definitely felt like something inside of her was breaking, shattering, to bits and pieces. She looked over at the other girl again, eyes on the road, smiling with her dimples at the upbeat song on the radio. Her chest tightened, and she knew, this was what getting her heart broken felt like. Right in this moment. This is what losing everything you ever cared about feels like.
/
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Brittany sat up at the sound of the buzzing. She looked around her, confused for a second about her surroundings, and the light streaming in through the windows. She fell asleep on the couch and it was now sometime during the next day. She looked around for her phone and realized that she left it in her bedroom at some point.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
The sound was coming from the intercom. Usually it was her roommate's boyfriend that would be outside asking to be let in, or it was one of the neighbors who forgot the key. One time somebody buzzed for Brittany, but it was a Thai food delivery man, so she wasn't sure that entirely counted. Brittany rubbed her eyes, still trying to adjust to the light.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Usually her roommate's boyfriend would have just called a cell phone by that point, or the neighbors would try a different buzzer. She wasn't even sure if her roommates were even back at this point. They would have at least woken her up when they came home at whatever time they got back. Maybe they'll just go away. But her thoughts were interrupted by yet another buzzing at the intercom. "Jesus Christ," Brittany muttered as she jumped up off the couch and went to go hit the intercom button forcefully. She went to go walk back to collect her blankets and go back to sleep in her bedroom and there was a quiet, gentle knocking at the door. Brittany turned around, surprised, but assuming one of her roommates had just forgotten their keys. She walked back toward the door, pulled the hood up on her sweatshirt to cover her bedhead, and unlocked the deadbolt, swinging the door open. Brittany's breathing stopped, and she could feel her heartbeat in every single one of her pulse points. She stared at the sight in front of her: a girl with a tan skinned Latina, hair up in a ponytail, heavy winter jacket on, and clutching a small duffle bag.
/
"Okay Britt, she should be here any minute," her friend said excitedly, as they sat in the New York Starbucks. "I think you two will really get along." Brittany just nodded, looking around the coffee shop, people watching the local New Yorkers. She was a little nervous, as she was meeting her future roommate today. It felt like a blind date, since her friend was orchestrating the whole thing, and the thought of that made Brittany laugh a little to herself. Brittany and her friend needed another roommate for their loft, and her friend found someone through her school. Brittany trusted her friend, so she knew she shouldn't be nervous, but she still was. People watching had always calmed her down, so she just looked around at the people reading, talking on their cell phones, and a pair of old friends at a table catching up with each other. "Oh, Britt!" Her friend exclaimed, snapping her from her people watching. "She just walked in!" Brittany turned her head from her friend and saw a short Latina girl, with long hair, wearing a v-neck and jeans stroll into the Starbucks. Brittany stood up and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans hurriedly. The Latina girl approached the table once she spotted Brittany's friend and the two hugged briefly. Their mutual friend then stepped aside, and Brittany held out her friend.
"Hey, I'm Brittany," she said politely, holding out her hand.
"Hey," the Latina took her hand and smiled warmly at her. Her dimples showing as she smiled. "I'm Santana."
/
Brittany continued to stare at the girl in front of her. A familiar feeling of nausea seeped into her stomach, and she briefly thought she was going to throw up right on the spot. The other girl held her gaze though, and the two just stared at each other. Brittany inhaled sharply, realizing she had forgotten to breathe after she opened the door. The two continued to stare at each other, and Brittany was unsure of how long they had been standing at her doorway. Finally, just above a whisper, she was able to get out one word.
"Santana?"
let me know what you think! Next chapter we're going back to the start to when these two crazy kids first meet!