Fifty Words for Forgiveness
*0*0*
This is going to sound fucking crazy, but I want you to hear me out with an open mind.
Imagine if you could only use a limited number of words a day. Let's say it's fifty words. You get fifty words a day, and after that you get no more. You can't say anything after fifty, no matter how hard you try.
By the end of this sentence, I will have used eighty-one words, and yet I haven't really said anything. That's the problem. You have to make those words count, but fifty is such a small number, and you want to say so much more.
Fifty words, Q, and then I can't say a damn thing. Now whether you buy this or not, I don't care, cause it won't change anything. I'll still only get fifty words tomorrow. This doesn't change the fact that I'll see you in the hallway, and I'll have ten words left, and I'll say them all to you.
You get my words. You get all fifty words.
My silence isn't a joke, and I'm not scheming, despite what everyone thinks. I don't want to waste my words, because they belong to you. Why would I waste them on small talk and all that crap when I could be using them to tell you that you look fucking gorgeous today? Which you do, by the way.
What I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't take my silence as rejection. It's anything but. And yeah, I could have just written down how I was feeling and what I want for us, but I want to say it. I want to use those fifty words to let you know how I feel about you.
So, tomorrow, when I see you, I'll have fifty words to play with, and I'm going to make them count.
P.S. This is 328 words long. It would have taken me 8 days to tell you all this in person.
*0*0*
You had slipped the note in Quinn's locker and then vacated the area as fast as possible. Last time she caught you loitering around, she looked ready to beat you to death with her folder. That was not happening again. You couldn't face to have her look at you that way, not when only a month ago she was looking at you with something much closer to love than hatred.
Those looks were long gone, though, and it was all your fault. You had to rectify that. You needed those looks back.
You knew not to expect miracles with Quinn, though, because that note was pretty out there, but so was your situation. How could you properly explain this situation when you didn't even know what was going on yourself? You woke up one day and started hearing this creepy voiceover counting every word you said. You didn't know why it stopped at fifty. You didn't know why you had to endure this. So how could you give Quinn all the answers she needed in a simple note? You couldn't.
All you could do was hope that she took you at face value and thought back on all the times you stopped speaking midsentence, all the times you couldn't commit to her, and all the times you bit your tongue. You held back for her, she had to see that, surely.
With that in mind, you wanted to give Quinn a few days to process everything you had said, but you did mention making your words count the next time she saw you. The note went into her locker on Tuesday, so on Wednesday morning you approached her cautiously. You needed to try speaking to her, at least. Sadly, she shot you a filthy glare and pointed you away, and like the pathetic creature you were, you obeyed her silent order and left her alone. She needed more time to process, obviously.
By Friday, you were itching to speak to her again. All those words wasted making small talk with your parents, your teachers, yourself, when they could have been used to talk to Quinn. It was ridiculous how you had even made it to Friday without trying to speak to her once more.
There did seem to be some improvement on her part, though, it wasn't much. She had stopped glaring at you, but rather was ignoring you completely. It was like you didn't exist. So much so, you wondered if her anger last time was actually in relation to your note. Had she even received it? Or had you cocked that up too?
Deciding it was better to face the situation head on, you approached her locker at the end of lunch. You had to bite the bullet and find out. Plus, you were desperate to talk to her. Like always, she was rooting around inside her locker like Narnia was hidden back there, and your arrival seemed to go unnoticed. It wasn't until you leant on the locker next to hers that you saw her spine straighten and her body tense up. So she knew you were there, that was a start.
No effort on her part was made to speak or even acknowledge your presence. You were going to have to speak first. Okay, you could do that. You had fifty words to play with, having made sure not to waste them earlier, so it made sense to say them to the one girl you wanted to hear them.
"Did you get my note?" you asked, not wanting to dance around the topic any more than you had to. Small talk was a waste, and something you wanted to avoid at all costs.
Five.
And hello creepy voice over. It was good to see you, too. God, you wished for the day when you woke up, spoke, and didn't hear that voice.
Slamming her locker shut, Quinn finally acknowledged you properly. She turned and glared at you like you were scum of the earth, then shook her head, laughing humourlessly. Oh you were going to get it now. This was not a good start. You wanted 'pissed-off-but-rational-Quinn' who would base her opinion of you on past experiences. Instead, you had gotten 'Scary-serial-killer-Quinn'. She was going to murder you, right by her locker, for everyone in McKinley to see, and she'd probably get off scot-free for it too.
"Did I get your note? Yeah, I got your note. That's some nerve you've got. Do you think I'm a complete moron? I mean, really, Santana, do you think I'm stupid, that I would actually believe you? Fifty words and then you're done. Yeah, sure, of course. That's normal."
You wanted to argue your point but that would be a waste. She wasn't going to listen to you anymore. She was done listening to you by the looks of it, and as she continued her rant, you knew you had to take this, as much as you didn't want to. Let her rant, and maybe she'd give you an in, a way to prove that you're weren't making this up.
"You're just too scared to admit your feelings, and I'm done. I gave you so many chances, and here you are, wanting one more. Well, no. No. You don't get any more chances, and I don't care if you use your precious words on me. They won't mean anything. Nothing you say means anything to me. You had your shot and you screwed it up."
Shit, you could feel the tears beginning to form. That was not part of the plan. You were not going to cry, that was not happening. No, you had to buck the fuck up, and deal with this. She was angry. You knew this. Let her be angry. Give her time to cool off and then come back and fix this another time. You were not done yet, you could and would fix this. You hadn't lost her.
"So why don't you go use your words on someone who will forgive you for jerking them around, huh? God knows you've got to make amends with a hell of a lot more people than just me. Start there, and when you're done, maybe we'll talk, if you can even do that," Quinn said, having either chosen to ignore your teary looking eyes or not realised the effect her words had on you.
She pulled her books closer to her chest and got ready to walk away, but you weren't going to let her go without one last try. You had words left, you could use them on her, that wouldn't be a problem.
"Okay, but I'm not giving up," you began, halting her in her steps.
Eleven.
"You want me to make amends with the others, I will. I'll apologise for all the shitty things I've said and done to them, and after, I'll be back to talk to you. This isn't over between us, Quinn."
Fifty.
Thank Christ you got that to fit.
Stopping about a foot away, Quinn turned back to you and shook her head. Those hazel eyes that were once filled with adventure, excitement and adoration were no more. She was looking at you through cold and dead eyes, solidifying the need for space between the two of you. And you just knew in your gut that what she was about to say was going to hurt, but you needed to hear it anyway. You had hurt her, now she was going to even the score.
"That's the thing, Santana, there never was anything to begin with. It's over, but only because it never began. We were nothing; we are nothing." With that, she turned and walked away without a second thought.
You were left holding back all the anger and pain her statement had caused. She was wrong. You wanted to argue how wrong she was, remind her of the times you were something together, when it became more than just causal hook ups for the two of you. You needed to remind her that there was something there. The flame may have dwindled due to your pathetic attempts at pretending she was nothing more than a friend, but with the right conditions you could and you would get it back to being a roaring fire. You had to, you needed her.
Having used all your words on Quinn, you had none left for anyone else, but given the emotional blow she had dealt, you really didn't feel like saying anything anyway. What was there to say? She had said it all.
*0*0*
From that point on, Quinn kept out of your way, and you hers. You would give her sad smiles when she looked at you, but then she just stopped looking. No doubt you looked like a puppy that had been kicked, and who wanted to look at that? Of course she would look away. Fucking pathetic.
Given that she no longer wanted your words, that did give you time to do as you said you would. Seeking out most of the Glee members wasn't hard, and you managed to apologise without screwing up your face as you did so. It was improvement, and it was all Quinn's stupid doing.
She had made you into this mess. Santana Lopez did not apologise. She didn't, and yet, there you were, practically on your knees grovelling for forgiveness from the Glee Club of all people. Half of them didn't even buy the sincerity of your words, which stung, but fuck it. You had apologised, and that was that.
The only person you refused to apologise to was Finn. No fucking way was that happening, and surely Quinn couldn't blame you for that.
What you realised, though, whilst being pathetic and muttering 'I'm sorry' and 'maybe one day you can forgive me' was that you actually were sorry, and you did actually want them to forgive you.
If this twisted situation taught you anything, it was that your words were important. You had wasted so many tearing these people down, the ones who were there for you when Finn outed you, and the ones who were there for you when your abuela disowned you. They didn't deserve half the shit your threw at them, and fuck, you were genuinely sorry, whether they believed you or not.
The only one who responded kindly to your apology was Berry, and that shit was just weird. Of all the people to be ridiculed by you, she should have shoved your apology back in your face, but she didn't. Instead, she gave you a coy little smile and then hugged you tightly.
"I forgive you, Santana, and I'm so glad that you've seen the affect your words can have on people. This really means a lot to me, and maybe we could even be friends now. Obviously, I don't want to push my luck, but this is a new chapter for us. I do see that some of your nicknames are actually terms of endearment, and if you could just refrain from using 'rupaul', 'treasure trail', 'manhands', and the other ones implying I'm actually a man, then this could work. So, friends?"
And shit, what was the worst that could happen? You didn't have any friends, especially since Quinn was pissed at you. Berry wasn't that bad, you noted, and fuck maybe she was even crazy enough to deal with the truth about your fifty word debacle, if you ever had to tell her.
"Yeah, I'd like that," you replied, feeling a little nervous, but hugging her back nonetheless.
Thirty three.
"Great!" She let you go, and quickly made her leave. You knew she didn't want to chance it any more than she had, which you felt guilty for. She still didn't trust you, totally understandable, and she didn't want you to lash out like you used to, even as friends or whatever you were trying to be.
It made sense, so you couldn't fault her, but as you made your way to your car after school, you realised that even without the harsh words and verbal attacks, still no one wanted to hang around you. You truly had isolated yourself.
Maybe that was Quinn's plan though, because that realisation hurt. She was still evening the score, it seemed, and given your treatment of her, you knew you had to continue to take it. She was proving a point, one you needed to learn.
The glee club didn't know how you felt about them. Rachel didn't know that you liked her singing. Tina didn't know that you knew her name. Kurt didn't know that you thought him particularly funny. Brittany didn't know you'd forgiven her for everything that happened last year. Sam didn't know that you actually liked his trouty mouth. None of them knew you considered them the closest things to friends you had, minus Finn of course.
You hadn't told them. You hadn't told them anything, just like you hadn't told Quinn the countless times she'd asked. Therefore, it was only fair they distanced themselves from you. It made sense they were done with you. You had brought this on yourself, and lying back on your bed afterschool, unable to speak, you accepted the fact that this was your punishment.
Fifty words, because if you couldn't say it in fifty words or less, then it didn't need to be said.
Hi - one. Yes - one. No - one. Thank you - two. You're welcome - two. I miss you - three. I'm sorry - two. Forgive me - two. I like you - three. Stay – one. Don't ever leave me - four. I need you - three. I love you - three. I can't live without you - five. Love me - two. Kiss me -two. Touch me -two. Make love to me - four. Please - one. Quinn - one. Will you be my girlfriend? – five.
How hard was that? Why couldn't you have done that?
She only wanted to hear three words from your lips. Three simple words and she would have been yours, but no, you couldn't do that. You couldn't tell her and now you were paying the price.
You coward.
*0*0*