So, my best friend made the mistake of telling me she didn't ship Brittana. I, being the person I am, told her I would write the angsty-est thing I could to make her ship them.

It totally worked. I hope you enjoy it (Best you can since it's sad?), K

It was the dimmed tint in the typically crystal clear blue orbs that she should've noticed. She should've seen there was no skip in her girl's step. There was no kiss on her cheek snuck in before lunch. There was no radiant smile that lit the room. And now, there was no girl who possessed those to ask where they'd gone.

Santana stared at her perfectly ironed black dress, her fists balled against the hem as she stood at the front of the room. She looked for one of the first times, what she saw bringing tears to her eyes. She saw a breathtaking blonde with a few freckles dashed upon her face, powdering her rosy cheeks. Her sight wandered down to the simple blue dress she wore, her favorite. She had always adored it because she could wear it with her rainbow knee highs in the winter; the blue the exact same shade so it matched to a tee. 'That's why you bought it for her on her birthday, because it matched her socks' she reminded herself. She then saw a tiny bouquet in her hands, as if she was the one to give her condolences on that day. Even lying still, she looked absolutely beautiful. Much too beautiful to be displayed in a casket.

'Why don't you love me?'

That was written at the top of a sheet of paper that was crushed on her desk. Santana had found it nearly two hours after she'd found her, after she'd found Brittany in her bed with an empty bottle beside her. She remembers staring at it, wondering how her best friend could ask such a thing. Of course she loved her. She loved her more than she would ever love another. She came to her house that night to tell her how much she loved her, show her how much she loved her—but now, she couldn't. Now she had nothing but a ghost to love, a shadow of a person built of memories and heartache.

She tries to think of more of the note as she continues to stare, her eyes lingering to each place she'd ever touched, ever kissed. God, she'd never be able to kiss her again. Her eyes stop at a familiar little charm hanging from her neck. Taking a deep breath, she vaguely sees more of Brittany's written letters; the first words of her last.

'San, why don't you love me? You love Puck. You even love Sam. Why don't you love me? Why can't we kiss like you do to them in front of everyone? Why am I just a toy to you? I want to be more than just a warm body, Santana, I always have. I hope you find this, because if it's here then I can't give it to you, though I'm glad I can't take it back because I mean every word. '

She could almost see herself standing at the desk, her cheeks stained with trails of pain and regret. It's like she's out of her own body, just watching the past. It's not déjà vu. It can't be déjà vu. Not even some twisted sixth sense can recreate what she felt as she read the page for the first time.

'You don't want to kiss me in front of them because you don't love me, and I don't think you understand that you were the only one I had.'

Santana couldn't deny it. She cringed to know that she couldn't deny it. Brittany's parents had both died when the girls were nine. Brittany was currently living with her aunt and uncle who didn't give two shits about her. Santana had gotten kicked out more than once after telling them off for just that. Santana was Brittany's only source of comfort through any of that.

'I wish you would love me, but you don't. I'll ask you one more time, San. Why don't you love me? I know you don't have an answer still.'

"I don't have an answer because I do." The last two words come out as a whisper. She didn't want to say them ever again. She couldn't, because those were the words saved for the one day Brittany told her she dreamed about. She told her in a sleepy haze she was dreaming about her Latina in an ivory dress, singing those sweet two words into her ear. Her heart hums softly as Brittany asks if Santana dreams about that day, dreams about marrying her. She's fast asleep before she could hear those three letters she longed for, that Santana would now always long for from her.

'I figured I'd try. Maybe if I asked enough, I'd get an answer worth hearing. I guess we won't see that day together. We won't be able to do anything together. We won't live out our dreams. Well, my dreams.'

She didn't know what made her stomach knot worse; the fact Brittany didn't know how much she cared or the actual reason as to why she showed up that night for her. Santana arrived to her house with a little box in her back pocket, a neat ribbon bow on top. It wasn't a ring, she didn't want to seem too crazy, but a silver necklace with an engraved little locket.

'I love you, San. I love you so much, but this will have to be the last time I tell you. This is the end. This is goodbye.'

It was a gift. It was in celebration. Santana was going to come out. She was going to shout it through the halls how much she loved Brittany. She would hug her and kiss her in front of everyone without second thought. That necklace symbolized their future, but now it only symbolizes what could've been. She hopes that, in some world, Brittany would wait so that they could live out their dreams. Together.

Her eyes focused in on the necklace for the last time. The room had emptied, goodbyes had been said, and now she was to say a final goodbye before the lid was shut in preparation for the burial the next day. She couldn't find herself to say anything but the words that rested on the locket, the words that were going to promise Brittany their future and their love.

"I do."