Left, right, left….
You find yourself forgetting to just look forward as your eyes wander right to Brittany, who has tears streaming down her face - which looks cold, and hard, and struggling - beautiful despite the conflicting pulls of resignation and shock.
Like a grieving statue in motion, she won't buckle beneath this physical weight. But you might. She might be losing the battle between herself and her emotions, but you're losing against your own body, and the two of you have always been two different kinds of strong. You wince in pain, and your heart clenches suddenly when you see her chin finally tremble as her eyes fall to the ground. You have to look away, your head snaps forward again.
Her sorrow engulfs you, suffocates you. Why is this walkway so long? You decide that you want nothing more than for it to end, until you realize that completing this final duty will be the end of everything you've ever known. And so you pray for miles more of walking, walking until your feet fall off - really, you don't care anymore.
Maybe none of this is real, you think, but then you gaze sideways again with the hope of meeting Brittany's eyes but catch polished wood and a decorative handle instead - and you really want to scream then, as your throat closes up and your knees feel like they might buckle…
But no. You can't fall. You can't drop…
You can't drop her.
You imagine darkly, just to pull yourself through, that this is all just a routine, a routine with you and your girlfriend at the most important part of the pyramid, the part at the front that has to stay strong. And you and Brittany are just doing your jobs, really, by letting Quinn Fabray stand on your steady shoulders for one final song.
You try to convince yourself that everyone is so silent because it's impossible to cheer to a death march, and then the tears finally come.