Santana pushed through the main doors of the school, posture straight and confident as she made her way down the hallway. She smirked as the loitering student body gave her a wide berth. Reputation wasn't something that disappeared when the principal handed you a diploma. She'd be a HBIC for years to come and it didn't hurt that she was holding a Big Quench cup in her hand filled with her favorite flavor slushie.

She spotted Sam casually leaning against the wall near Sue's office, typing on his phone. "What's with the text, Trouty?" she huffed, pushing her sunglasses off her nose to rest on top of her head. "I was getting my tan on watching the Cheerios run through their winning National's routine. Roz may be the next Sue Sylvester 2.0… or worse even. She wants to fix every fault that the girls committed last week, before scrapping the routine entirely to focus on next year's number. Even Sue gave us a two-week breather every time we took home the big trophy."

"You have to see this." He waved her over to the auditorium, where one of the doors was propped open. They stepped inside the darkened room and he gestured for her to sit. The house lights were off, but the stage lights were bright and tinted in red.

"What's going on?"

He was saved from answering when a familiar blonde walked in from the behind the black curtain, a bottle of water clutched in her hand. She was dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a shirt that Santana recognized as one purchased from a New York City gift shop during their Nationals trip two years earlier. Brittany's hair was pulled into a loose bun and even from their position at the back of the auditorium, Santana could see the glistening sheen of sweat collected at her brow.

They watched in silence as she drained half of the bottle before setting it down next to a portable CD player. She fumbled with the buttons on the device for a moment and then moved towards the center of the stage. She hunched over onto her knees and wrapped her arms around her body as she waited for the music to start.

Santana recognized the song instantly. As Brittany started to move to Adele's "One and Only", she unconsciously inched closer to the edge of her seat in anticipation. It had been so long since she had seen Brittany dance like this— so carefree and organic, her body an extension of the music.

"She's dancing," Sam whispered, needlessly. "I think she's been here all morning."

Santana could only nod in acknowledgement, too caught up in the memory of the first time she had heard that song and seen that performance .She and Brittany had been at a crossroads in their relationship.

Like they were now.

Sam gently nudged her with his elbow. "Artie and I were trying for two days to get her to let loose before you came back," he whispered. "She turned down every offer, even to go to Murph's for some karaoke and dancing the other night. Said she just wasn't into it anymore."

Santana shrugged, her eyes never leaving the stage. "Yeah…we, uh talked for a while yesterday."

And it's been awkward between us ever since.

"Well whatever you said to her, it worked." He paused, as they both watched Brittany execute a graceful jazz pirouette. "She's in her element down there. I haven't seen her this happy in a while."

His phone vibrated in his hand, and he glanced down at the incoming text. "I have to go…I've got graduation rehearsal in a few minutes."

"Trou-uh-Sam…thanks for texting me."

Sam stood to leave, then hesitated before sitting down again and turned towards Santana, reaching out to take her hand. "Hey, for what it's worth," he looked away momentarily before meeting Santana's eyes. "I was wrong."

"About?"

He sighed. "When I said that I was what was best for Brittany. It might not have been true then and it certainly isn't true now. I think we all knew that, but Brittany being who she is, didn't want to hurt me by choosing you. But now—"

"Sam—"

"No, it's okay." He waved her off. "We're better off as friends anyway. I see that now…I just wish that I had figured it out sooner. Could've saved us all a little heartache."

He pulled her into a hug and Santana found herself leaning into the genuine warmth of his embrace. "She loves you," he whispered into her ear. "And I know you love her too, so don't you dare go back to New York without working that all out. Okay?"

Could she and Brittany simply start over? Just like that? What about the distance? What about MIT? What about New York? What if it didn't work out again?

Was the pain of their past worth risking again for an uncertain future?

Sam tapped her on the back and she pulled away. He gestured with his head and she shifted her attention back to the stage, startled to find that Brittany had stopped dancing and was standing there, watching them. Out of the corner of the eye, she saw Sam give her an encouraging nod before slipping out the door, closing it gently behind him.

She and Brittany regarded each other in silence as the song continued to echo in the empty room. The lyrics were just as relevant now, maybe more so, than the first time she heard them.

I don't know why I'm scared, I've been here before
Every feeling, every word, I've imagined it all,
You never know if you never try
To forgive your past and simply be mine

Was it really that simple?