Orokid: To start this off on a informative note, I wrote this story with a broken heart. My girlfriend and I have had a lot of troubles recently, and… it's the end. We're kaput. And it hurts like Hell, to say the least. So, in the meantime, I've been listening to a LOT of sad songs all about losing the one you love in one way or another, and one of those songs is called "Nothing" by my favorite Irish rock band of all time, The Script. So, when I randomly sat down and started writing… this is what came out. Of course, it was Glee related, and, of course, Brittana related. I'm addicted to both right now, so expect a lot of it. Also, to tell the truth, I hadn't meant for it to be a certain character's third person point of view when I started it. It just kind of happened.
That aside… yeah… This is my heartbreak therapy. Sorry if that depresses some people, but… I just needed to write something.
Disclaimer: I make no claims to Glee or it's characters, or the song this story is based off of. I own nothing.
Nothing
Santana slouched heavily against his shoulder, watching with a mild interest as the road beneath her feet swam within her drunken haze. Her feet stumbled slightly, but she remained upright, her arm tightly held around the broad shoulders of the one beside her. She could hear the man grunt at the suddenly added weight, a curse under his breath as she giggled in his ear, simply taking another step so to right her balance. Still, he held on, not willing to trust the girl to remain somewhat standing if he chose to let go. After all, this wasn't the first time they had gone to the local bar, and he doubted that this would be the last. "Damn it, San… you need to lose some poundage if we ever do this again," the young man chided her, but his tone held an affection for the girl that no one could really deny.
The woman grumbled, her giggles suddenly lost as she took in his words, but there was something in those chocolate orbs that told him that her thoughts had retreated into the past. He could only wonder how many times he had seen her change like a light switch, the tears at the edges of her eyes as she'd stubbornly try and push back the lump building in her throat. The two walked in silence for a block or so, something that rarely ever occurred after once again closing the fine alcohol-serving establishment for probably the third time that week, but he waited, knowing instinctively that whatever had been below the surface for the past few months would boil out and over soon. A part of him knew, at least a little bit, the meaning behind her tirades, their midnight runs to the bars or closest liquor market, but the silent agreement they had made ages ago kept his lips locked tightly shut, and his ears perked so to finally listen.
"I hate cripples, Puck," he heard her mutter, a scathing anger in her voice that he'd only heard her actually use probably once or twice in the time they'd gotten to know one another. He knew exactly whom she meant, a boy even liked to call friend after the help he'd received so to stay out of juvie, but he couldn't really blame her for her dislike of the male. "Stupid cripple who can't even walk who call their girlfriends stupid…" She paused, a tear slowly cascading down the caramel colored skin of her cheek. Noah Puckerman could see her pain, knew that it was tearing her apart from the inside out, but he remained mute as she choked on a sob that had escaped from her stronghold of emotions. "Stupid blond girlfriend who stupid ass legs I wanna kiss all over… Stupid body I wanna make mine… So no stupid cripple can touch it again…" She grumbled, her frustration building as she spoke, although the volume of her words were quiet enough that only the two of them could really hear her musings. "Stupid, stupid feelings… Stupid for thinking she'd wait…" The brunette pulled her arm from around his shoulder, stopping in the middle of the empty street they had been walking along so to use both her palms to smack herself in her forehead. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." He waited, watching, his heart breaking for her as the shards of her heart fell down her face in slow, pain-filled rivers. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!"
He stepped forward finally, gently taking her wrists into his large, strong hands so to keep her from further harm. "You're not stupid, San." He felt idiotic for saying it, but he felt lost, unsure what else to say to her in a moment like this. Telling her the opposite of what she thought was the only thing he felt like he could do.
"I am," she mumbled, defeated, letting flow the dam of tears that had been gathering with each and every shot of tequila she'd been trying to drown herself in earlier. The Latina hiccupped as she forcefully pushed down the sound of another sob escaping her lips. "I'm the stupidest stupid in stupid Lima, O-fucking-hio." The girl drunkenly swayed into his arms, and he held her with a gentleness people would never assume from him. Her hands gripped at his undershirt, and he found himself a little glad to have removed the while button-up before they had even entered the bar, knowing how hard it's be to explain away mascara stains on a rented tuxedo. She was shaking against him, the weakest he'd ever known her to be, tears and make-up emptying against the cotton fabric of his clothing. Placing a soft hand against her back, he attempted to soothe her, rubbing his fingers against the skin of her back where her dress did not cover. It was innocent, his thoughts filled only with his hopes to calm the crying girl in his arms. "I'm the stupid too afraid to… to…" She sobbed against his softly.
He felt her lips curl into a confused yet saddened crooked line, trying to understand what she had just said. The male could feel his subconscious knowledge of things bubble within the pit of his stomach, but he pushed it away, knowing in his heart that the girl needed a friend more than another rumor to nail her coffin with. Besides, it had never been proven true, and much of the past couple of years they had spent together had proved differently. Still… He shook his head mentally, shaking the thoughts away. "You're not makin' much sense, S."
The young man felt her movements lessen, her cries softening to the sound of her inhaling and exhaling, and the two of them stood in the silence for a good while as the moon hung over their heads with a mournful blue glow.
Finally, he heard her speak. "Am I better off dead?" The question shook him to his core, his hazel eyes looking down at her, incredulous that she'd even said that. He opened his mouth, ready to rebuff the shocking words that told him more than he had been ready to hear. She had ended up beating him to the punch, speaking before he could, continuing her drunken ramblings instead of listening to him. "I feel dead. I wanna die." She pushed away from him, suddenly disgusted with herself for leaning on someone in her moments of weakness. "She kills me. She always kills me when that stupid crip is with her." He moved toward her, reading to snatch up her arm so to slap it around his shoulders again, but she weaved away, somehow avoiding his grabs in the state she was in. "But… she wouldn't be with him if I hadn't…" Her voice trailed, eyes swimming in memories and tears as she once again evaded his hands.
Puck heaved a heavy sigh, running a hand against his carefully trimmed Mohawk as he tried to think of something, anything, which would get her to calm down. Nothing seemed to come to mind. "San, we need to get you home. You're smashed."
His words were lost on her, her musings far more important than her friend attempting to help her. A strange, determined look found her russet orbs, and he could see the dim light of an idea shimmering within her pained irises. In seconds, she began to stumble and weave along the streets, moving as fast as she could as the pavement swirled and blurred before her. He could hear her as she moved, his own legs chasing after her, and he found himself both surprised and… well, not, at the sound of the name passing through her lips in a whisper. "Brittany." Her pace quickened as she made out the name of the streets at the nearest crossroad, moving down a familiar road even through her drunken haze. "Brittany." Panic struck through her voice, louder than before as she paused to try and figure out if she had come to the right avenue or not. The male watched from a small distance away as she stumbled, standing quietly as she squinted her eyes toward each direction, and he quickly scooped her arm over him before she actually fell.
"What the Hell are you doing?" he grumbled, frustration lacing every word that left him, holding tight as she attempted to escape his grasp again. The Latina shot him a look that could kill, if that were at all possible, and he could easily see her imagination working out possible ways to harm him one way or another for interrupting her search from whatever it was she thought she was sober enough to do.
"I'm going to see Brittany," she told him matter-of-factly, her gaze making him feel like the biggest fool alive for not realizing it earlier, even though he knew it was irrational to feel that way. Sometimes, he mused to himself, this woman had the power to make you feel insignificant and worthless with just a simple look. He kept his features firm and stone-like, watching her with both anger and pity as she pulled at her arm in hope to free herself from him. "I gotta tell her."
"Tell her what?"
"That I love her. And I don't care what anyone thinks. And that I hate that stupid cripple. And… And… And… And it killed me to see her dance with him." Her voice had started off strong, almost daring the owls of Lima to prove her statement wrong, but with every word, her pride softened, slowly but surely ending in a whisper as tears once more dotted the edges of her eyes. "I gotta… I gotta tell her, Puck. Before it's too late."
He exhaled deeply, his heart heavy, his shoulders burning after all the time he'd spent making sure she continued to hold tight to him. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine pound dully within the confines of his head, and he wondered briefly if the leser amount of alcohol he'd consumed compared to his drinking partner was finally getting the better of him. Using his free hand to punch the bridge of his nose, he did his best to piece the information he'd just been given, ignoring as the woman he held upright lunged forward with a step, forcefully moving them in a direction. In all aspects, he really couldn't feel surprised, having seen the looks, the touches, the things they sneaked when they thought no one was looking, probably more than anyone else had over the years they'd known one another. He'd seen the mixed feelings in her eyes the moment the blond began wheeling the boy around the school, and the hurt and hope they'd shared that day they sung the Fleetwood Mac song with Miss Holiday. Two relationships had begun to visibly strain from that day on, one everyone had assumed had been a simply friendship (despite prior knowledge of their history together) and another that had become a known romance throughout the school. But no one said anything. They'd just assumed that things would work out on their own, and, in a way, they did, a broken romance in it's wake. But things still weren't like they used to be, with smiles that could light a room and pinkies intertwined, yet they seemed to be getting better. Slowly.
It dawned on him finally the reason why she had invited him out for drinks night after night, and why they often left the bar so drunk that he'd thought she'd be unable to actually function in the morning. All this time, she'd been drowning in heartache- as well as whatever else they ere willing to serve her.
"Brittany!" Her voice was slightly shrill, shouting the name out into the dead of night, not caring at all it seemed if people had been happily sleeping prior to then. He could hear the slur in her voice the louder she got, but a sad smile crossed his lips as they moved down the silent roads. The moment she stopped dead in her tracks, he nearly stumbled himself, keeping his body upright by an act of God Himself. Turning to look where they'd stopped, he found himself looking at the all too familiar humble abode that belonged to the Pierce family. She swayed out of his arms, shakily stepping toward the front yard, her glazed chocolate orbs drunk with both sadness and hope. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted the girl's name once again, and he could easily hear the utter despair the woman was feeling in her hear, staring at a second floor window that was dark and, as much as either did not want to admit it, foreboding. "Brittany!" His stomach couldn't help clenching, praying that the Latina would be answered soon, and that she'd get what she had come for.
Santana slipped off one of the hells she'd been wearing, not wanting to acknowledge what was probably the truth- that the woman she loved was somewhere off with the cripple, doing things that only made her stomach churn in disgust. He didn't stop her when she threw it up at the window, hitting the wood around the glass despite the alcohol coursing through her veins- a feat he doubted he could have managed were he half as inebriated as she was. She stood, silent, waiting for a light to switch on and tell her that she was wrong, that the blond had come home instead of making a night out of junior prom like all of the 'normal' couples did. Seconds passed them by. Puck felt his hand curl into a hopeful fist, closing his eyes to whisper a wish to the heavens.
It wasn't long before he felt that minutes had passed. He felt the girl who had dragged him there collapse to her knees beside him. He opened his hazel orbs, looking down at the broken figure of a person he'd always known to be the biggest badass around campus, the one who'd always cut a person deep with her words before her fists had to intervene, before she'd even dream of asking questions or taking names, let alone apologizing to said person whom she'd been antagonizing. She'd always been strong in his eyes, always keeping the world firmly set on her shoulders and telling the world that she could handle it- but he never knew just how wilted she'd become from the weight of the stress and lies she'd fallen beneath, the things that she'd caused to herself over something as wonderful and misunderstanding as love.
"I don't- I don't have anything," she hiccupped, rubbing at her crying eyes, trying hard to hide her falling tears. There were too many for her to simply brush off and away, too many to deny how her chest burned with her broken heart. Kneeling down beside her, firm fingertips glided across her cheeks, wiping them away, an understanding, caring smile on his lips. She attached to him, crying hard against his chest, not caring if anyone might see or if there would be talk tomorrow. This was his friend, one that he'd misplaced over the years due to adolescent lusts and things he'd done to make girls think he was the bad guy, the one they wanted more than needed.
"You have me, San." He saw a glimmer of something he'd long since forgotten, a memory of things they'd left behind years ago, and he realized as she leaned against him for support as she cried that she did believe him, that he really was her comrade in a war against love and all the pains that came along with it. Even if it wasn't a romantic affection, even if the past was just that- the past, he was happy to find that she trusted him again. Sighing, a smile gently gracing his lips, the Mohawked male wrapped his arms around her, heaving a soft grunt as he gently lifted her off the ground, cradling her against him as they began a long walk home.
He almost laughed when she playfully whispered, "I still want Britt… but you'll do. For now."
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Orokid: So yeah… This is how I saw junior prom ended, which included Santana turning to Puck as a friend. I'm all for Pucktana friendship. I just hope that she does eventually come out to him before everyone else, because… I dunno. I feel like they're close, despite their past as sex buddies. That just me?
Hope you enjoyed, even if it was a tad bit depressing. If you like, please review and tell me what you think. I'd appreciate any feedback.