"Kissing might make it feel better," Santana said, resting on her elbow in Brittany's bed on a Friday night. Brittany shrugged.

"Britt-Britt," Santana whined. "I've tried everything."

"I don't think anything will make me feel better."

Truthfully, Brittany already feels better. Sure, Mr. Schue didn't give her a solo for like the gazillionth week in a row, and Rachel made a snide remark in Glee Club about her stupidity, obviously thinking it would go over her head. It didn't.

She got an F on an Algebra test and an F on a History test. She walked in on a very pregnant Quinn crying in the bathroom and was yelled at to get the hell out of there. Sue called her a giant toddler with enormous breasts and Santana was making out with Puck in the hallway during lunch and she was sure that Santana would break their Friday night plans.

She didn't though. She showed up right on time in a tiny blue dress with black stripes and a big bow at the hip. She also had Gummy Bears, Mike & Ike's, and Sweet Valley High. She was starting to feel a little better then.

Until just now when Santana called what they were hopefully going to be doing later kissing instead of fooling around or getting her mack on. Real life kissing.

Which is what it is, really, even if Santana refuses to call it that.

Anyway, ever since she said kissing Brittany's been feeling 100% better. Still, it's nice to see Santana beg.

She's pouting though and her eyes are wider than Brittany thinks she's ever seen them. Plus that pout makes her lips look just way too enticing and Brittany knows that she can't hold out any longer.

Santana's logic is always flawless. Kissing definitely makes her feel 1000% better than she thought she could.

She uses Santana's perfect logic again the next week. She's walking down the hall, trying to decide whether or not to go into Algebra. She hates it, and she's pretty sure no one at this school really cares whether she attempts to succeed or not, but you technically can't leave school grounds when you're a Sophomore so she wanders around. She has the bag of Gummy Bears with her, because candy from Santana always somehow tastes better than any other candy, so she has to make it last.

She turns the corner around another identical McKinley High hall and there are Santana and Puck, making out against the lockers, cutting class too. Her stomach drops, and suddenly Santana candy doesn't seem like it will make this day any better.

So, after school she finds Aaron, some guy from the Football team who kept catcalling her at the game last week and shoves him against the lockers and makes out with him for five minutes.

And it works. Or it sort of works. It doesn't exactly make her feel better, but for those five minutes she forgets about how bad she feels and instead thinks about this guy and his tongue and how he tastes like dip and red meat.

Santana logic. Always perfect.

She's pretty sure that now there is nothing that will make her feel better. She's tried it all, but she's also pretty sure that this is the most terrible she's ever felt in her life.

Santana's gone. At first she was gone but still hers, and now she's just gone completely. Brittany is still at McKinley. She wonders if she's this is some form of hell and she's being forced to walk these confusing, identical, hallways for eternity. Grease didn't make her feel better and Sectionals definitely didn't make her feel better, and Cheerleading really just makes everything worse.

Santana brought her candy when she was visiting to help Finn with Sectionals. Not just regular 7-11 candy either. Haribo Alphabet Letters and Haribo Happy-Cola and Haribo Frogs. Special candy because she knew Brittany was especially sad.

She said she got it from a junior who just came back from a Semester in Germany. In Brittany's head the junior looks exactly like her but smarter and funnier and more worldly.

She can't really picture anyone but herself with Santana, but maybe a better version of herself.

She's eating the Happy-Cola when she runs across Sam in the hallway. Sam who never calls her stupid or make offhand remarks about her intelligence. Sam who listens to her as though she has the intelligence of an eighteen-year-old and not an eight-year-old.

Kissing might make it feel better.

It's like she can hear the words ringing in the hallway. She hasn't tried this tactic in four years (God, was Sophomore year really four years ago?), but she's tried everything else at this point and she's not sure that she really has anything else to lose.

So she kisses him. It's small and short. He looks surprised but also really happy. A little too happy and it makes Brittany sick to her stomach. So sick, in fact, that she goes home from school, but not before making sure she has someone to take notes for her in all of her classes.

She gets home and crawls into bed and cries. She can't help it. She cries like she hasn't in at least a month, when Santana broke up with her and it felt like she wouldn't ever stop crying.

She's found quite a few flaws in Santana's logic in the last couple of months. The latest—sometimes kissing can make it 1000% worse.