Okay, so hello. This is just a HeYa dabble with all my feels in it, because hey, we all love HeYa and Bram sucks, a lot. It's me and my anti-Bram other half.

Okay, so before I go through the other important matters in this long-ass author's note, I would like to thank every single shipper soul out there who keeps on believing in my stories. Guys, girls, gays, and everyone, I really, really thank you and this is all for all of you, because hey, you guys are so AWEMAZING! I really love your reviews, and author alerts and story alerts…they all blow my mind away!

Thank you so much because you have no idea how it makes me happy and how you readers make my day and every time I see your reviews, I get this fluttery feeling and I feel like I am so in love with all of you guys.

Well, I just did this fanfic because, my week kind of sucked and I can't do any Easter-themed Brittana vibes for the moment and for that, I am utterly sorry. I really can't. However, my mind is swimming in Brooklyn and Brittany thoughts right now, which was by the way, so utterly random.

Moving on, I would like to thank Dee for being the most awesome beta there ever was in this world. She is currently editing the whole bunch of chapters for Family Affairs 2: Mending Relationships and a couple for Family Affairs 3 (which was very sweet of her).

Also, I would like to thank Chenny and Lhie for spending the Thursday afternoon on Finals Week with me walking because that totally made my mind think of all the Brittana stuff and it was when I got the idea of the whole Brittana proposal thing (although I would never, ever tell them that because I would sound like a creeper).

I would also like to thank BlackHoles76, for all the ideas she had given me about the weddings and stuff.

So, here's a HeYa fanfic for all you HeYa shipper soul. The theme isn't as original, but hey, I kind of made an effort and I would like to apologize, I am so sorry for all the mistakes if ever there ever were things that are mistaken here, because this is unbeta-ed.

Sorry for this loooooong author's note, but I really wanna do this for the people important to me.

So, thank you guys, again you are all so awesome and have a happy read. And here are your kisses.

xx


She was once yours. She was once your special someone. As always, she always had been your special-est someone. And now that you're sitting inside the booth waiting for the sound technician to tell you that it's alright to start singing, you're still thinking of her.

Actually, you offer the song you will be singing to her.

You take a deep breath, dragging the cold air conditioned air inside your lungs and slowly let it out, and you see the sound tech, who looked like a nerd with his glasses, raise a thumb.

And so you start to sing.

You start to wonder if she could ever hear you sing and she will find out what you mean. It's kind of scary, but you had been waiting for that moment too. And you were dreading it. It was confusing for you.

You slipped up on the next chorus so the sound tech told you to do it again. This time, you did it so good and when you tried to think of the lyrics, you find out that your eyes are burning and you know you will be crying at any moment.

"Excuse me, I have to go to the ladies' room," you lied to the sound tech and your handler.

"Sure," the sound tech said.

You made your way to the said room, and inside the cramped ladies' room cubicle, you start to cry.

You love her. You love her so much that it actually hurt. Your body shook violently as spasms of your breakdown reverberated across the empty room.

After a few minutes of letting your heart out, you get up, and went to the nearby sink to wash your hands. You realize that you had to get back in there again, and you have to pretend you're okay, just like all the time when people are around you.

It sucked.

It sucked a lot.

You remember the day you first seen her on set. She was about to play the role of a ditzy blonde and there she was, dancing in a way you've never seen someone dance before. She dances so…freely.

She doesn't call you very often now. Your roles had been into different phases, and since you have to tape away from her, because your characters aren't together anymore.

It's kind of scary how your characters were as much as your second personas are. It's getting out of control.

At first, you though it was just a mere confusion between the real you and the character of Santana Lopez. You thought that you just felt so connected and so close to your character that you were actually starting to feel something for her.

But, oh boy, you were so wrong.

You are in love with her. Just like how it was two years ago. Just like how in love you are with her right now. Just like how in love you will be with her in the future.

But you also know that you can't be hers, completely, that you can't be with her completely. You know why, though.

It's because you were so scared. You're scared that Mychal would say something bad about you because it's not what your religion had taught you. You're scared that your Dad would be disappointed at you. You're scared that your Mom would be so hurt. You're scared that the incredible sisterhood you have with Nicki would be destroyed because of it, because of you coming out in public. You're scared that people would whisper behind your back and that you're scared to go back to that place again where you were left to stand in the sidelines. You're scared to fall.

But what scared you most was her. You were so scared for her. You're scared that if you both let yourselves be carried away by the feelings you have for each other, you would end up hiding from everyone, because you can't take to let anyone know about the love you have for her. If people would know, they will pass on the judgement without even thinking it. And you know she doesn't deserve it.

And that's what you were so scared of. You were scared of the fact that your love could hurt her. And she doesn't deserve to be hurt. She deserved to be happy.

That's why when she asked the real score between you and her two years ago, you shook your head sadly and you just walked away with the phrase saying that you were just friends. You did not tell her what you felt, honestly.

It was your worst mistake.

Anyways, you are back inside the booth now. You sing a couple of more songs and it was time for your guys to wrap it up. You drop by Starbucks to grab your coffee and you drive back to your home in LA.

As you drive, you turned on to a radio station; you heard that they are playing your song. A smile grazed across your lips and you looked out the window.

You start wondering if she was also listening to the same radio station and was listening to your song, which probably, she isn't.

Tears started to fall down from your eyes, knowing that the song was for her. Like 190% all for her. You offered it to her, you poured out your feelings for her into that song, hoping that she'd get the meaning and tell you something. Tell you anything.

But she hasn't called you yet. It's almost five days since your song was released in iTunes.

You're hoping she'd call, though.

No one asked you about the lyrics of the song. No one even bothered to. Or at least no one had really cared about it. People loved the rhythm. People loved the beat. People even sing the lyrics. It's all over the radio stations; it even hit and topped the charts overseas. You were a sensation all over the world.

But no one had asked to whom it was for. No one had asked who the person in the song was. No one bothered to ask you why you even wrote that song. It kind of makes you sad, but at the same time, relieved. But if you were given the chance to tell them everything what you want to explain in that song.

You would tell the whole world it's about her. It's about someone you've loved truly and all of your heart but she's not with you anymore and you don't even know where you stand in her life right now.

But you would never tell them her name.

You arrived at your house in LA and you quickly pushed the door open and your dog, Lucy, met you in the hallway. They say that lonely people keep pets at their house and you're kind of terrified how accurate some people could be.

So you spend the night doing nothing, flipping through People magazine and everything until around 11:24, and the need to watch New Girl was unbearable so you popped it in and you fixed yourself some popcorn.

It was almost two in the morning and you were slathering your second batch of mac with cheese when your phone blows up on the coffee table with her voice singing. She'll never know, but you had set that recording of her voice into your ringtone.

You read her name and her caller ID on your screen. With shaking hands, you put down your spoon and answer the call.

"Hello?" you say warily. Why could she be calling you at this time of night?

"Nay…" she sounded hurt.

"Yeah? You okay?" your heart started to thump. She never fails to do that, she never fails to make your heart go running mad with the speed of twenty-five miles an hour

"Can we talk?" she asks.

"Yeah, we're talking," you tried to joke. "Okay, go on."

You hear her shuffle on the bed and you hear her walk. Then she spoke again.

"He is sleeping," she said. "Can we talk, until I fall asleep?"

Instantly, a debate rose from your chest. You want to talk to her. You want to keep her with you. This might be your only chance. And you know it.

But you can't be selfish. You can't hurt her just because you wanted to be happy.

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" you found yourself asking her.

"I like your song," she said.

"What song? There are a lot of so-"

"The one that talks about me," she said it simply, although she cut you off.

Suddenly, your blood seemed to roar inside your veins and you try not to fall on your knees.

"Nay?" she asked, thinking that you just dozed off. "Did you write that song about me?"

You can't answer her. Not when your heart is running like a crazy herd of zebras.

"Nay…was that song about me? At least I thought it was about me. I was hoping it was about me," she said.

That's when you found your voice. You answer her.

"Yeah, Heath…it was about you," you whispered, like it was a sacred secret and you don't want the world to know about it.

"Nay, there are a lot of things I really want to ask you, and I really want to know," she said through the phone.

"Okay, what is it?"

"Do you love me, Naya?" somehow it did not just sound as a mere question.

"Of course, Heath…" you breathed out, the air that seemed to pass through your lung tubes seemed to be constricted because of the lump of tension that rose to your throat. "I do…I really do."

"If I will break up with him, would you be with me?" she asked again.

This is it. You have made your mistakes years back and you are sure you're not going to make the same mistakes again. But you're still as scared as it had been asked on you back then.

"I…I don't know," you tell her.

"Why?" you could hear that sadness in her voice and it felt like a slap on your face.

"I don't want you to break up with him, because of my song," you tell her.

"Why can't you fight for me?" she said, her voice cracking. You know that she is crying. You are crying. And it hurts. It hurts a lot more.

"I…I'm scared," you can't stop the tears now.

And everything just crumbles down. It's painful and sad and just, plain hurtful to you both.

The only sound you've heard is your own sobbing, and hers. Tomorrow would be another day of pretending. It hits you and you decide it over.

True love can't be selfish.

True love does surrender. And true love does big sacrifices.

True love does hurt.


P. S.

I even doubt that Naya watches New Girl.

P. P. S.

Can someone add this to a HeYa community? Please? Thanks.