Authors note: Just my musings on what may or may not happen in episode 3x07 and nope, I don't own Glee. Story told from Santana's p.o.v...
Whenever I felt down as a kid I used to gaze intently at the ceiling for hours on end. I would pretend my eyes could see past the plaster and paint and into the infinite and wonderful universe, where my worries and troubles suddenly became insignificant. I've since learned that the world isn't so wonderful and that trying to look past the surface of things doesn't solve anything; it only makes things worse. Hell I looked into my soul, unleashing a love I didn't realise I could ever feel and look where that got me: laying flat on my back staring at the ceiling once again.
I've recently adopted the habit of studying its patterns and crevices, as if they held some secret code which could solve all the problems in my life. If I stare hard enough I swear I can see the shape of a hand reaching out to me but as soon as it appears it vanishes; strangled by shadows. I scrunch up my eyes and ball my hands into fists, a subconscious defence mechanism resulting from years of hiding behind a tough façade. Gosh pull yourself together San. Don't you know that seeing things is the first sign of madness? "But then again so is speaking to yourself" I voice bitterly, rolling onto my side. Why must I always feel so goddamn lonely?
It didn't take me long in life to realise that no one else spent their childhood like I did, trying to look past things, as no one can see through me. Not my teachers, my so-called friends; not even my parents. That's when I met Brittany: the only person smart enough to figure me out. As my thoughts wandered to my best friend as they so often did I reached for my phone, almost dialling the number that had become second nature to me but then I remembered. Brittany was out having a meal with her family and who am I to disrupt that, claiming her attention as if I could ever be included as one of them? I can't even call her what she is: my girlfriend.
I sigh, when did everything get so complicated? Was it when I kissed my best friend for the first time on a cold November night, caught up in a rush feeling and colour, our hearts exploding together like the fireworks that crashed above our heads? Or when I deluded myself into believing that sex wasn't dating? Sometimes I think it started even before all of that, when our eyes locked for the first time, light to dark, sealing our fate tighter than a pinkie-lock. Maybe its because I'm so afraid of losing that, the sacred symbol of friendship, no love, that has defined us for so many years that I can't bring myself to hold her hand; can't bring myself to make the transition between friends and girlfriends. After all it's only when you've got what you want that you have something to lose. I've had to live with that my whole life, the fear of losing something I mean, except now it's not only my reputation I need to protect.
I'm really trying though. The other night at Breadstix I did hold her hand, even if it was under a napkin. That's the thing about being with Brittany, she makes everything so easy. It's only when we're apart that my insecurities take over and I find myself hiding my feelings, not behind a flimsy piece of paper that the world could see through if they took the time, but rather back in the impenetrable secured vault that is my heart. It's not until I'm back in her arms with her flowing through my blood once more that the lock can be broken.
Struck with a sudden inspiration I lean over my bed, reaching under it; hands sweeping the well worn path that I find myself travelling down whenever I need to feel whole again. I pull the worn photo album onto my lap, showering myself with sparkles as my fingertips brush across the unicorn Brittany had drawn on its surface with glitter glue. Smiling, I open its cover; my life literally flashing past my eyes as I flick through the pages which pretty much document every memory Brittany and I have ever shared.
My eyes are drawn to a really old photo of us (we must have been about 7) trying on my mothers clothes: me holding an oversized handbag and trying to balance in a ridiculously high pair of heels; Brittany holding me up, lipstick and blusher smeared through her hair. It makes me feel a bit sad to see how fast we had wanted to grow up- now all I want to do is slow down. I'm not sure what it was about the picture that caught my attention so much but the more I looked at it, the more the memory started flooding back…
"Brittany! Don't you dare let go of me" I threaten, as she mockingly steps away from me so that I lose my balance, a mischievous glint lighting up her eyes. "I would never really leave you San, you know that." I smile; it was too hard to pretend to be annoyed with her for long. "Yeah, yeah now help me out of these heels otherwise my death is on your hands." Brittany did so obediently, withholding the fact that if I fell and died it would be my own fault for putting them on in the first place.
We're almost done when I hear the front door below us slam and a tell tale creaking of footsteps climbing the stairs. "Oh no that must be mum - she'll kill us if she finds out what we've been doing!" The panic in my voice is mirrored in Brittany's face as she expectantly searched me for an answer, a solution. I was always the one who made the decisions.
I did all that I could do; grab her hand and pull her into the closet with me, shutting the door behind us. "Jesus it sure is cramped in here", I complain, my voice muffled by the hanging clothes. "When I'm older I'm going to have a walk in wardrobe that's so big that I won't even need a house and even the one in that movie we watched the other day can't compare!"
"Ohhhh I loved The Leopard the Werewolf and the Wardrobe!" She fell silent for a moment, having lost her original train of thought whilst I stifled a laugh, not having the heart to correct her. Such Brittany-isms were one of my favourite things about her. "But Santana, why would you want to live in a closet" she continued. "Wouldn't you get lonely? Even if it concealed a magical realm like Narnia, what would be the point if you had no one to share it with? Besides it would get super cold." I feel my brow creasing as I try to understand her logic. Brittany has such an honest, pure way of viewing the world that it's sometimes hard for me to decipher.
"But that's why I'd have you there with me Britt. It will be big enough for both of us to live in and we can cuddle for warmth, there may even be room for Lord Tubbington if you're lucky…" I tease her, knowing how much she loves that mangy cat.
"I still don't get it… you should never want to shut yourself in San, you deserve the world to see you."
I guess I forced Brittany to live in a closet with me after all, I thought darkly as I turned away the page, no longer able to look at it. Why did I have to be so selfish? Angry at myself I resume flicking through the pages, somewhat too roughly as I feel the edge tear beneath my hands – yet another thing destroyed by me.
I run my index finger tenderly over the torn picture; a black and white shot of me and Britt kissing that we had taken using a webcam we had previously been using to record ourselves practising for whatever ridiculous cheer Sue had planned at the time. Of course we had soon given up with that, boredom leading us to our favourite pastime – sweet lady kisses. Brittany had her eyes open, boldly staring down the lens of the camera whilst mine were squeezed shut, as if opening them would reveal a crowd of slushie- bearing football players, poised and ready to extinguish the flame of passion that burned between us.
Underneath the photo, the caption I kissed a girl and I liked it stood out to me. Engraved into the paper for eternity it screamed for me to accept myself; to accept that like it, my sexuality was unchangeable, permanent. As I pondered this, my door suddenly opened, causing me to jump from panic and shock and in a flurry of Spanish curses I slam the album shut.
"Just thought I'd let you know I'm home now…" all of a sudden my mum stood in front of me, her tanned skin and dark, concealing eyes identical to mine. The only difference between us was the lines across her face that told the story of her life, both the sadness and the joy. My face on the other hand was a smooth mask, devoid of such signs as to let myself show my emotions and live, truly live, was just too painful most of the time. "… what are you doing?" she added suspiciously, noticing my stiff stance and the way my arms were thrown protectively over the album on my lap.
Just keep it cool, act natural. She doesn't know anything, you weren't doing anything wrong.
"Oh nothing much… just looking at some old photos of Britts and I…" Which was the truth, even if it didn't come out as nonchalantly as I would've liked? "Brittany is such a lovely girl, haven't seen her around her much lately…" A simple enough statement but I didn't like its underlying questioning tone, challenging me to take the bait and clarify why that was. Oh just because we're in a secret relationship that I'm hiding from you. "Well we've just been really busy lately… what with cheerios practise and everything!" -Again partially true. Calm down Santana she doesn't know anything…
"So nothing has changed between you then?" I couldn't bring myself to look at her but I could feel her eyes boring into me. I snap. "What is this, some sort of interrogation? Cos' I aints buying it." I could feel my bitch act take over and there was no way of stopping it now. "Me and Brittany are best friends." – A lie. "Satisfied?"
If I wasn't already uncomfortable enough my mum walked across the room and sat beside me, a level of intimacy I wasn't used to. What could've spurred this on? "Santana…" my mother began, with a 'give it up' look in her eyes that brought back memories of my childhood. Memories of when we used to play hide and seek and I would peer at her from my hiding place, clearly not as well hid as I had thought. That was a long time ago, before life got in the way of us and we lost ourselves in the void that keep filling with the words we never said to one another and all the time that we spent apart. "I saw you two the other night, when Brittany, erm, walked you to the door…" I had always assumed that after all those years she had given up on trying to find me; turns out she never stopped looking.
I froze, blushing furiously as I tried to hide my face; my lips tingled at the thought of that doorstep encounter.
Brittany had driven me home after our date at Breadstix; the word 'date' and the anxiety and excitement it brought still flying through my head as she pulled up next to my house. A comfortable silence had surrounded us for a long time, that is until now, when the engine abruptly spluttered to a halt, breaking the spell and leaving a new kind of silence, one that I didn't like; one that I could feel pressing against me, urging me to say something - but I couldn't speak.
We got out and walked side by side up the path, our arms lightly brushing, each touch setting my heart on fire. For each thud of our footsteps my pulse matched a dozen fold. Our date was coming to an end and I could feel my breathing become more erratic and I felt the pressure rising; felt the need to say 'I'm no longer scared' or 'next time you hold my hand we'll be walking down the corridors of Mckinley' – but I couldn't lie to Brittany as much as I didn't want to hurt her. I just wanted this night to have been perfect for her.
Suddenly we were at my door with no where else to walk. I fumbled with my keys rolling my eyes at how cliché I must have looked. Didn't this kind of thing only happen in movies? "Santana…" The sound of Brittany's soft voice speaking my name cured all my symptoms of worry and before I could respond she was leaning in until soon there was nothing between us. In that moment it was as if my mind had been paralysed; nothing made sense to me save for the taste of strawberry lip smackers and the feeling that I was home – and that had nothing to do with standing right outside my door.
I could feel Brittany's warm breath on my skin as in between kisses she whispered Best – First – Date - Ever.
Were it not for the shifting of weight beside me as my mum stood up to leave I would've happily stayed daydreaming forever. "Mum…" I hesitantly call after her, knowing that I should say something, that I may never get the chance again. She stops in the doorway to look back at me and in the moment our eyes lock more was said between us than had been in years. They said to me not to worry, I don't have to say anything until I'm ready, that everything will work out in the end, that she saw me.
As she closed the door behind her I let out a breath I didn't even realise I was holding. My whole body was shaking but for the first time not with fear, but with relief. My secret was out and the world was still turning. I had confided in someone, even if it was unintentionally and wasn't freaking out – I had to tell Brittany. As if on queue my phone vibrates revealing 1 new message:
My dad ordered shrimp and I thought of you all night.
I love you. B.
xxx
I read the text with a massive reserved-for-Brittany smile plastered all over my face, doing all I can not to laugh or cry. How is it those 3 simple monosyllabic words can elicit so much emotion? Feeling as though I'm about to burst I rush to call her back, dying to tell her that my mum knew about us. That maybe we were going to be alright after all.
A couple more chapters to come, Santana still needs to face school and her dad – the road to acceptance is a long one! Let me know what you think – remember if you want to read more I run on reviews.
:)