With every step Santana took away from Brittany, she felt her heart shattering into smaller and smaller pieces. Unlike every other time leading up to this, there was a certain finality this time that nearly forced her to her knees with uncontrollable sobs of pure agony. She didn't know how to breathe, let alone interact with people at this time, so she didn't even bother going to her next class: the very same class that seemed to be the root of all her problems.
Glee club.
Instead, Santana forced one foot in front of the other toward the main doors, then out into the deceptively bright and sunny day and into her car to peel from the parking lot. Fuck the weather. There should be thunderstorms and rain. At least that way her mood would be warranted. Maybe. It was something she kept telling herself with each passing second that she didn't drop dead from the gaping wound in her chest caused by the one person she thought she would never suffer heartache because of. Her beautiful, kind, blonde best friend.
The one that just rejected her. For Artie. She picked him.
Santana really shouldn't be surprised. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had picked her first for anything other than a game of dodge ball. And that didn't count. Sue picked Quinn for Head Cheerio over Santana who had worked her ass off the whole time the other blonde incubated her lizard spawn. Puck picked Quinn over his own girlfriend; his very same girlfriend that was in love with a girl. Finn told her she meant nothing. Schue picked everyone else first. And now Brittany. Brittany joined the ever-growing list of people Santana had secretly counted on to pick her first only for the Latina to be let down once more.
Guess that's what she gets for being a horrible person. That's the only explanation for it anymore.
Putting her car in park, she found her eyes rising to look at the modest house that she called home. She didn't even realize she'd made it there until that moment. Maybe she'd be lucky and her parents would be gone still. Yeah, right. She was never so lucky. Obviously.
Closing the door to the sleek black car she called her own, the brunette found herself numbly walking up to the front door and pushing it open after finding it unlocked. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she dropped her keys on the table just inside the door before shuffling lifelessly toward the stairs which would take her to her room where she could hide for the rest of forever and hope the pain faded.
"Mija," a familiar voice called from behind her, causing her step to halt, body curling forward to hunch her shoulders, "What are you doing home so early? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, mama," Santana tried to say convincingly, only for her voice to crack audibly in the middle of her words. Big surprise there. She couldn't even brush off her mother appropriately anymore.
"Did someone hurt you," the voice said from a closer position, before a small woman walked around and into her line of sight, the lines of her face softening from bristling indignation to sympathy almost instantly at the sight of her deeply wounded daughter, "Oh, baby girl. Come here."
Santana found herself drifting closer instinctively only for her mother's deceptively strong arms to wrap tightly around her, pulling her into a hug that might have helped hold her together if Brittany hadn't broken her so completely.
She didn't even realize she'd started crying until minutes later, her face pressed to the soaked shoulder of her mother's shirt as her hands twist tightly into the material at her back, drawing her closer as her whole body shook and shuddered with each sob. In her ear, she heard Maribel's soft voice shushing and cooing softly to her to try to ease even a fraction of the obvious pain she was in.
"What's goi—" the voice of her father cut through the quiet as he stepped in from the living room, his eyes falling on the sight of his wife trying to comfort his only daughter. Doctor Rafael Lopez found his eyes meeting Maribel's as she soothingly ran her hand over Santana's long hair. Instead of continuing his line of questioning, the tall man stepped up next to his wife and rested his hand in the middle of Santana's back in silent support, his brow furrowing at his inability to help soothe her.
After several long minutes standing there, Santana's sobs finally started to subside under the attention of her parents, her mother's arms loosening just enough for Rafael to bend and scoop her into his arms, frowning at the obvious lack of weight as well. He'd have thought being off the damned Cheerios would see some weight return to his daughter's form, but he was obviously mistaken. That was a conversation for another time, however. There were more pressing matters to attend right now. Like just what had his normally stoic daughter in such a state.
Moving to the couch, he sat himself back down without once loosening his hold on her, feeling her instinctively curl into his chest as she used to when she'd sit on his lap. Maribel taking a place at his side, reaching a hand out to gently brush a stray strand of hair behind Santana's ear.
"What happened, mija," she asked softly as she looked at her daughter.
"I—I'm unlovable, mama," Santana's voice said quietly, albeit roughly from against Rafael's chest.
"That's hardly true," her mother replied quickly, wanting to quell that thought process as quickly as possible, "We love you very much. As does anyone who takes the time to get to know you. You're a wonderful person, mija."
"Was it that Puckerman boy? I knew he would be trouble," Rafael added, giving his own show of support even as Santana shook her head against his chest.
"No. It wasn't Puck. He's with Lauren, anyway," she said softly, exhausted from the rollercoaster her emotions were on.
"Was it Brittany," Maribel asked after several beats, Santana stiffening in his arms in fear almost instantly, "Honey…we know. We've known for a long time…our walls aren't that thick."
"…yes. She picked him. After saying she loved me and wanted to be with me," Santana said after a short pause, her father's hug only tightening around her as he tried to physically make her feel better, "Everything hurts."
"Oh, mija," Maribel said softly, hand lifting to stroke softly over her hair, trying to soothe the hurt away, "I know, baby. I know."
"Don't make me go back…please. I can't. I can't," Santana began begging, her voice rough as she immediately began thinking the worst, "I can't. Don't make me. Please."
"We won't," Rafael said swiftly, drawing a surprised look from Maribel as he dropped a kiss to the crown of Santana's head, "We won't, mija. I promise. We'll send you to another school, okay? You won't have to see them if you don't want to."
His eyes met those of his wife as he silently communicated with her, giving her a small nod as they both made up their mind right there.
"We're moving anyway, mija," Maribel added after a beat, rubbing the teen's back gently, "Your father got a wonderful offer at Columbia University's med school. We were trying to figure out how to tell you."
"You mean…I don't have to see her anymore," Santana asked with a raspy voice, lifting her head to look between her parents, "You're not going to make me?"
"No. We'll call the school and withdraw you tomorrow. We'll move within the week," Rafael said softly, watching her reactions as he offered her a small smile, "You'll be okay, mija. Time may not heal all wounds…but it does make them bearable. And I hear New York is home to lots of different peoples of different cultures. Maybe you'll find some lucky girl to show you that you are as lovable as we already know."
Santana found herself giving them a small, weak nod as the two adults comforted her silently until she fell into a deep sleep.
"I never though we'd be having this discussion this soon," Maribel said softly, shifting Santana off Rafael's lap so they could lay her down and cover her up, "I thought we'd have years before her first heartbreak. And I didn't ever think it would be this serious."
"Moving will help. It won't twist the knife like seeing her everyday would," Rafael said quietly, "I hope she doesn't change too much."
"Only time will tell, Rafael. But you were right. New York will be good for her. And she always did enjoy skating. I'm sure there's plenty of it there," Maribel said idly, already starting to plan the details out in her head.
"Let's be honest with ourselves. She enjoys the thought of blades on her feet. She's always been like a son in that regard. We'll see what New York makes of her," he said quietly as they both looked down at the sleeping girl, "For better or for worse."
A/N: And that's that, setting up the story. So, this is my first fic in a long time, so reviews will be much appreciated. Thank you for reading, and I hope to see you next time.