A/N: This fic is based off a series of tiny drabbles I created on my tumblr (stupidpridething) that I got some good responses from and a couple requests to go on and fic it. I recommend you visit the page and click the "TWSHB" link to read them if you want to feel more informed on the story. It's not a must, but more of an "inside scoop" type tidbit that I'm doing and will continue to do throughout the progress of the story. They can mean as much or as little as you want them to!

After this chapter, the rest of the story will take place in its main tense: 10 years from now.

Chapter 1

The Ruin She Had Become

Mercedes blew away the loose tendrils of hair that got in the way of her seeing clearly. She needed to make sure she didn't mess up, already running out of patience with the sharpie that was completely spent. This would be the box that all the things that made her feel close to home would go in. Photos and frames, her grandmother's jewelry box, the little trinkets that decorated her dresser and whatever else she couldn't be without miles away. She had been pretty efficient with her packing until she looked around her room and saw that her work ethic had left it completely free of any trace that she had ever been there. Lived there. The floor she had turned into her workspace felt harder than she remembered, colder, and if it wasn't for the faint tint of purple on the walls she could have forgotten where she was altogether. Her parents were already in California by now, making sure she wasn't going to come home to another empty space like the one she was leaving behind; it was her mother's pleasure and her father's final gift to her. And if there was one thing she knew about her dad, it was that Robert Jones wasn't the most affectionate person in the world, but she learned to become fluent in what was unspoken with him and uncover the I love yous and I'm proud of yous in it. She didn't have to do too much searching. It was in the graduation present sitting in the driveway, waiting for her and Puck to make a mess of it on their road trip out west. It was in long list of numbers she could call of people that owed him favors and it was in her bank account as a cushion for the unwelcome but anticipated fall of a struggling artist. Mercedes was determined not to touch a dime of it. She was going to make it and she was going to do it without giving her father, or anyone, the satisfaction of crawling back with a dream deferred.

When the last box was packed away and the sound of the pulling and tearing of Scotch tape had finally stopped echoing in her head, she looked to the window for the first time in 12 hours. Damn, she thought. Night already? Seeing the moon was further proof that she had spent the entire day, her last day, busying herself from the people and places that had the power to remind her exactly of what she was leaving behind. It was bad enough that she hadn't talked to Sam since their argument three days ago. Actually, he was the one not returning her calls. The goodbye they both knew was pending had come and initially, he refused to say it. Who they were together, what they were to and for each other, was placed on the chopping block to be split right down he middle and there was no easy way to get cut. She reminded him that they had been "just friends" before in an effort to say that they could be "just friends" again, but he wasn't hearing it. You don't even believe what you're saying but you expect me to? he said. And he was right. She knew it was a lie the moment she thought it, but all she was trying to do was spare them from one heartbreak with another...as illogical as it seemed. Either distance could pull them apart or they could do it on their own terms and she wanted them to have a say more than anything. And she hoped that just maybe they could pull it back together somewhere down the road when the dust had settled.

"Just let me find my place in the world. Let me do that, and I promise you..."

"So I'll wait then." Sam twisted open one of the Oreos he nabbed from her pantry and licked at the frosting nonchalantly. It was that simple to him. Things between them had always been that simple. If she wanted space, needed it, even, he'd give it to her, but breaking up in order for that to happen was hardly necessary.

"No. No, I don't want you waiting for me. Who knows how long it'll take for me to find my footing out there?"

"It won't matter. I'll be finishing up my senior year at McKinley and be on my way to California faster than you know."

"No."

"What?"

"Don't change your life around because of me. I'm not..." She paused, catching his eyes on her, hungry for the next thought. "I shouldn't be that important to you." Sam laughed before stuffing the two bare cookie halves in his mouth. How he could find her funny at a time like this was unsettling to say the least. "We're young. There's a lot out there that we haven't experienced and high school is just a small portion of the rest of our lives."

"Ah. So that's why this whole breaking up thing is so easy for you. You think I'm a phase."

"I didn't say that."

"But I know what you meant. Puppy love and all that, right?"

"Again, I didn't say that—"

"I dare you to tell me my feelings for you aren't real. You think I came back to Lima for Schue? For fucking Glee Club and slushies to the face?"

"I know you care about me, Sam."

"You know I care about you?" Mercedes opened her mouth to speak but words failed her. To her it didn't sound as bad when she said it, but him repeating with a sour look on his face it made her feel especially ashamed. "Mercedes, I care about what the weather's gonna be like when I get dressed in the morning. I care about my SAT scores being good enough for a shot at college. I. love. you. And yeah, you tolerated Puck and you 'cared' about Shane, but you love me. They were safe bet because your heart was fully protected, but I'm the gamble, right? Well that's what love is, Mercedes. Having so much to lose that it scares the shit out of you, and baby, you're terrified." She looked away, telling him everything he needed to know about how right he was. "But if you're not willing to go all in with me then what the hell are we doing? If you're not in this all the way then you can just keep your friendship because I can't go back there."

Mercedes looked at her phone on the island counter. The moment before things took a turn for the worst played over and over in her head and whether her answer had gotten him to hate her or not, regret would become just another enemy for them to wrestle with if somebody didn't budge now. Her heart was in the right place, even if it couldn't be more wrong to him. If he knew that she loved him then why couldn't he just trust that she'd come back some day? Sure, she was no expert in love and relationships, but some things just didn't add up. Ever since that day she saw Finn running beside Rachel's train, she had thoughts. What was love, really? Being so confident in what it is to not want to lose it? Or being selfless enough to let it go? If it was both, then what came first? And if it was only one of the two, then what did that make the other? A lie? A waste of time? A cheap imitation? What confused her most was that Sam had done his fair share of chasing and waiting when it came to her. Now, in so many words, he declared that he wasn't doing either.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming call she scrambled to pick it up with an eager, "Hello?"

"Expecting someone?" Santana answered, hearing the urgency and hint of desperation in her friend's tone.

"Oh...hey, San."

"Oh hey? Why weren't you at Breadstix tonight? I know it was supposed to be a seniors only thing but that went to shit. You could've brought Sam."

The mention of his name shook her head. "I had some last minute packing to do."

"That's code for a one-for-the-road fuck, right? I know you're gonna be waist deep in some Laguna-Beach-in-the-face type mofos out in Cali, and I don't blame Jagger Jaws for wanting to mark his territory, but Stix before dicks."

Mercedes suppressed her irritation with her circumstance in a deep breath. "Can we talk later?" she sighed.

"Is he still there? Listen, tell Ducky I said to stand on his head and let the blood rush somewhere else for a change. Seriously. He's not the only one you're leaving behind here."

Santana couldn't have had the slightest clue as to how her words came across in that moment. Her relationship with Sam, her going away. Mercedes couldn't help but blame herself for putting a crack in things, compromising the structure of something that was once unmarred, but the boy came at her with a sledgehammer and what was already fragile inside her completely fell apart.

"You cool?" Santanta asked. The sniffling on the other end seemed to come out of nowhere.

She could have told her the whole story right then but part of her was too tired to even start. Retelling meant reliving and it was enough just to be in the thick of it. Mercedes forced a useless smile and wiped away the tear that escaped her eye. "Look I gotta go but um, I'll text you tomorrow," she assured with as much pep in her voice as possible. Her words were met with silence and she could practically see Santana narrowing her eyes at the phone. "I promise."

"You know you can talk to me, right?" Mercedes felt another tear forming, hearing her problems being detected. Already she was losing her touch at putting up a decent front. "I know we've had our fits in the past, but at the end of the day I know you got me. I just hope you know I got you too. And I mean that."

"I know," Mercedes exhaled. "You always mean what you say."

"Then I won't have to repeat myself. You know the number."

Their friendship was an odd one, but it was a friendship nonetheless. Through the years the two of them learned to accept that they were prone to clashing when what made them different was the very thing that the other could use more of. All in all, they were good for each other and no one knew that better than them.

Once she hung up the silence of being alone had settled in again. The humming of her refrigerator, the ticking of the clock on the wall. None of it seemed as loud as it did yesterday or the day before. Just when she had gotten used to each tick and tock serving as the metronome for her rendition of "I've Been Working on the Railroad", the doorbell chimed. Her first instinct was to stay put because she wasn't expecting anyone, but her second instinct told her to grab the Chef's Knife from the drawer, just in case. When she looked out the peephole to see the familiar blonde mess of hair on the other side it calmed her and shook her up at the same time.

"I...took the bus," Sam said cautiously. Right away he felt obligated to explain to the intensity in his newly ex'd girlfriend's eyes and the big ass knife she was wielding in her right hand.

"No. You took two buses," Mercedes snapped. "Two buses and a twenty four minute walk. And that's just to get you to the neighborhood—not my front door." He had taken the journey plenty of times before but she hated when he did it at night, or didn't at least call ahead to let her know that she should look out for him.

"Are you gonna put that knife down or?"

"Three days, Sam. Three days. You don't answer my phone calls, you don't text me back—you didn't even poke me on Facebook but you think it's okay to just show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night. It's not okay. It's stupid and it's dangerous and it's a jerk move for you to even think that I'd be up just waiting for you. Like you weren't the one that told ME you didn't want to see ME again. Like three days ago you didn't hit me with every single thing you had. Three days, Sam! Three of the shittiest days of my entire life and all it took was me seeing your face to know that I am mad as hell about it. Three days ago...you ruined me."

Her voice broke and something in him did too. Mercedes never got angry. Frustrated, annoyed, fed up, but never angry. Then again, she never had a reason to be. Not being the cause of any tears she shed was something Sam used to take pride in, but he had said some things he didn't mean with his own pain giving it conviction, and seeing what it did to her was enough to make him wish he could press rewind and just suffer in silence. Was he just supposed to let her go? The girl he saw himself living out the rest of his life with? Doing nothing, everything, struggling, succeeding—he was more than prepared for all of that with her, and to know that she wasn't there yet, or if she'd ever be, stirred something in him he never knew was brewing to begin with.

"You were right," Mercedes continued. "I do love you. And I guess never realized just how much until you actually hurt me. That was something you promised you would never do and now I'm painfully aware of every bit of trust I put in you because all of it was thrown back in my face." She took a deep break and wiped her wet cheeks with her free hand, blinking so that her eyelashes could adjust. "I'm sorry you came all this way but, I think the whole being strangers thing will go a heck of a lot smoother if you just...go away." She whispered the last part, unable to fully grasp what it had come down to herself.

Sam watched her hand reach behind to the back of the door and push—

"Ididn'tmeanit." He rushed, trying to keep the shakiness in his voice from being heard. "What I said I...I was hurt too, you know? I..." Sam leaned into the doorway, hoping that his proximity would get her to hear the sincerity in his voice. "I'm sorry," breathed, fighting back tears himself. Mercedes rested her head against the door exhaustingly and looked him in his glassy eyes, shining in the porch light. "Please. Please, don't do this to us."

For a second, she smiled at him. It was subtle, but he knew every muscle in her face and mastered the curve of her lips. He saw that smile and it gave him hope. He saw it, and suddenly he could breathe again. But it wasn't long before something flashed over her that robbed him of the flicker of affection in her stare and lowered her eyes to where his weren't.

"I don't have to," Mercedes said firmly. "You already did."