I love you.
The words bounced around inside Santana's head like ping-pong balls in a wind tunnel.
I love you.
Did Quinn really say that? Like she meant it in a non-sisterly, non-best-friend, I-want-to- get-naked-with-you way?
Santana kicked off the covers, threw her legs over the edge of the bed, and groaned when she glanced at the clock radio on her night table. Such an innocuous, inanimate object, yet it begged for her fist, the way it tauntingly displayed 7:45am in obnoxious digital green.
She hardly slept more than an hour in fits and starts since Quinn dropped the L-bomb on her and then ran for the hills.
Santana rolled out of bed, got dressed to go to college and wandered across the small bedroom to stand in front of the window. From her third-story apartment, she could see the beautiful and big park known worldwide, painted with the first blush of a sunrise kiss.
It was two miles from her apartment to the university, but in the clear mile-high New York air it appeared as close as crossing the block.
She could even see the campus dorms. Where she used to live with Quinn.
She exhaled a heavy sigh. The gust of hot, moist breath collided with the cool glass surface and created a thin fog that clouded her view. She drew a Q in the center with her fingertip and watched it vanish. A secret message left behind for discovery.
Last night, seven sleepless hours ago, when they'd been celebrating another good grade for both of them in a local pub with more classmates; Quinn Fabray, her very best friend, told Santana she loved her.
To say Santana had been stunned was an understatement. She'd fought saying those very words herself for so long now, dreamed of hearing them tumble off Quinn's enticing tongue to lick the shell of her ear. And when she finally did hear them her brain short-circuited, throat closed, heart stopped.
That the dream had manifested into reality was beyond surreal. Especially considering Quinn wasn't even gay, or so Santana had believed.
Santana's mental engine had stuttered and coughed as the ignition fought to fire. Coherent thought and speech danced just beyond her reach and left her sitting there with big and surprised eyes, staring at Quinn like she was from another planet, speaking a foreign language; frozen with the overwhelming hope that what she was hearing was true, and paralyzed with the fear that she'd had a few too many tequila shots and imagined her friend's declaration.
But Quinn, always quick to jump to conclusions, took her silence as rejection. I'm sorry, she said as her beautiful hazel eyes began to glitter with moisture. I am so sorry! Then she turned and ran from the bar.
When Santana's motor finally kicked in and spurred her into action, she raced through the front doors and spilled out onto a near-deserted street. Quinn was gone.
I love you.
Santana braced her hands on either side of the window frame and laid her forehead against the glass.
Almost twenty years they'd known each other. Almost twenty years they'd been inseparable. Ever since the cute little blonde with big puppy-dog eyes moved in two doors down and they became instant best friends. They did everything and went everywhere together. They finished each other's sentences, and developed that innate ability of silent communication generally reserved for old married couples.
Then adolescence hit Santana like a truck, and she started to notice things about Quinn she was pretty sure most girls didn't notice about other girls. Things like how long and thick her best friend's eyelashes were, or how perfect her cheekbones were. Her hazel eyes flecked with green lights, and the burning gold that shimmered in fine threads when the summer sun fingered Quinn's hair. Soft fingers that she'd spent far too much time imagining how they'd feel caressing her skin.
For the next four years, Santana walked around in a constant state of arousal.
She wanted to tell Quinn what was going on with her, she really wanted to. The feelings raging inside, but she was terrified of losing her best friend. Quinn was her other half and just the thought of losing her and the friendship they shared, that so beautiful and effortless connection, was unbearable.
There was no way she could come out to the one person in the world she should have been able to. So she mastered the art of denial. Almost believed it herself.
Although, she did come out after a while. Senior year. First, with their second best friend; Mercedes, then with her family. And then... with Quinn.
It was weird, and she wanted to run away immediately from that park where she told her. Santana thought she would see disgusted eyes looking back at her but instead, they were lovely, supportive; Quinn's eyes were everything she didn't expect to see and more. They looked hopeful, even.
Everything was fine, and it was no secret that Santana had her charm, so the girls of everywhere even the girls at their school quickly began to to fall for her.
She didn't have a girlfriend, but she had girls under her arms in no time every week, she gained experience. Santana had fun like never before, even if all of them were not Quinn. It was a really well-needed distraction.
That was at least, until Quinn started to distance herself and without any apparent reason, without an explanation. And after the fifth time of asking her what was wrong Santana lost her patience, so she didn't asked anymore. They were seniors, and as long as their plans for their future were still the same, then everything was fine.
Except it wasn't.
College arrived, and so their problems.
Sharing the same college, the same dorm room like they'd always planned had quickly become a living hell. Quinn had became only more beautiful. She was the most beautiful woman Santana had ever seen. That girl was a dream. And so Santana started to distance herself.
Quinn sensed that something wasn't right and tried to understand, tried to help, but every time she asked what was wrong, Santana said she was just tired. College life, studies and everything were a lot to keep up with.
Every concerned touch that followed - a hand on her back, an arm over her shoulder, a smack on the ass when she would pass beside her - became a stick poking a hornet's nest. And then came the final straw just over a month ago: Quinn sitting beside her on her bed, rubbing slow circles on Santana's back with her so soft hand, the two of them wearing nothing more than underwear, bare thighs touching, and Quinn kissing her cheek from time to time with no reason at all pressing her soft lips against her skin for long, long seconds. Dangerously close to her mouth.
That had snapped the bounds of Santana.
She really saw herself for a moment, pushing Quinn back on the bed, straddling her hips and sinking into that pliant body. And right on the heels of that image, the deafening rattle of walls when the door slammed behind Quinn's retreating back, leaving Santana in the dust with a hole in her chest that would never heal.
She shook the image away and shot off the bed like she'd been stuck with a cattle prod, then made the most heartbreaking decision of her entire life. She moved out of the dorms the next day, and pushed the only person who meant anything in her whole life further away.
I love you.
Anger welled up inside Santana with intensity. Quinn knew her better than that. Should have known no matter what she said, Santana wouldn't judge or turn away from her.
Santana promptly shut down the little voice in the back of her mind that tried to point out the obvious. She didn't want to face the fact that while Quinn should have known better, she should have too.
About two months, two painful and awful months have passed; and they had not yet spoken to each other. It had been a hell, to say the least.
The best way to not get your heart broken, is pretending you don't have one. That was how Santana has lived. She shouldn't have fallen in love, because everything that falls, gets broken.
After an exorbitant time without hearing from Quinn, Santana felt her absence. It was like waking up one day with no teeth in your mouth, just like that; you wouldn't need to run to the mirror to know they were gone, right? You just feel it.
After the shower, Santana quickly dressed and grabbed her wallet and keys, and stormed out of the apartment.
The temperature was still comfortable in the early morning light, the world still in peaceful repose when she started walking. When walking quickly proved not enough to ebb her anger, she started to jog, accelerated into run, and then kicked it up another gear into a full-out sprint.
Breath wheezed harsh and loud through her throat, lungs heaved, and thighs burned and threatened to give out with every bone-jarring strike against the unforgiving pavement. Sweat flooded from her pores, drying into salty crystals on her skin as the arid climate sucked the fluids from her body almost as fast as she expelled it. Her eyes watered and vision doubled.
Was she crying?
No, she was not crying. Santana Lopez did not cry.
She collapsed on her back near a tree. Dew-tipped grass cooled her overheated skin through her jersey, while her chest heaved and muscle fibers twitched from the intense morning exertion. She kicked off her shoes and socks so her sweaty feet could breathe.
If Quinn had only stayed at the bar. If only she'd answered her phone the million times Santana had called that night, this could all be settled in a single, four-word sentence.
I love you too.
Santana lost track of how long she lay there on the grass, distantly aware that the sun had risen higher and the surface temperature of her skin increased. Familiar sounds of the world waking around her danced on the edge of her eardrums - morning birds sang their merry tune, insects buzzed, street traffic echoed from somewhere. But she wasn't even full aware of anything.
Love will wreck your heart like a derailed train. Maybe she should have chosen her partner wisely? But then again, Quinn must be the best partner someone could ask for. Santana just needed to know that sometimes it's the sunshine that frightens us more than the big black shadows. There is no perfection, only beautiful versions of brokenness.
Five months have passed since the last time Santana spoke to Quinn in that bar. And nothing had changed.
She was broken in three ways, sometimes four. She could even count them.
Santana believes herself to be human, but she's not actually. At least not anymore. This is similar to the way she believes herself to be just alive.
She had a grim affinity for alcohol now. This came with no caveat and no parentheses.
She was doggedly unhappy, sad. And she didn't know how to stop that.
On certain occasions when these first three things have ceased to be bad enough, she remembers how much she loves Quinn; and the other sins are commonplace, forgivable under a big enough umbrella. This fourth is irrevocable. Unconscionable.
So maybe that was why she arrived to this party, because she knew that Quinn would be there. And her heart stuttered for a whole different reason when she saw her. For the first time after months, Quinn looked back at her. Quinn regarded her one way or another.
It was stupid how Santana thought that for that night was enough.
She danced for a while with hot girls, having fun. But that didn't last long. She wasn't expecting being dragged from the dance floor to the dark back yard of the huge house.
With an unwavering gaze Quinn moved silently to the wall, supporting her flawless figure there, arms deceptively relaxed at her side, and waited.
"You're an idiot." Quinn mumbled, looking at Santana for contradiction.
It was weird and strange how, she didn't know who reached for whom first, only knew that Quinn's arms wrapped tight around her waist. Their bodies clapped together with enough force to push the air from their lungs, and just before their lips met, Santana froze.
Breaths, rapid and harsh, mingled in the sliver that separated them from complete head- to-toe contact. The sharp scent of mint and the sweet scent of Quinn, gusted over Santana's cheek and teased her senses.
The heated press of Quinn's bare chest against her. Electric tingles raced the length of Santana's tall frame. After the initial surprise, she moved a hand to cradle the back of Quinn's head threaded her fingers into the silky locks and tentatively touched her mouth more firmly.
She waited for Quinn to respond, and barely a heartbeat later, the gorgeous blonde that was often walking in her dreams leaned into the kiss.
The first kiss.
The kiss she'd dreamed of since she was thirteen years old. Quinn's lips were soft as satin, hot as caramel on apple pie, and tasted just as sweet with a hint of the vodka she was drinking. They moved gently across her own. Testing, tasting, teasing - and when Quinn's lips parted Santana didn't hesitate to accept the invitation.
She swept her tongue inside and slid it against Quinn's. She reveled in the subtle, rough texture on the surface and smooth underside as they twined around one another. A ragged moan rose up between them when Quinn pressed her body harder against her.
Every angle and ridge of bone and muscle fit into place as though it were made for only Santana.
Quinn's hands burned a path up and down the expanse of Santana's back, feeling her; from the base of her neck to the rise of her ass. Santana held the back of Quinn's head with one hand until she broke the kiss, gasping.
They looked at each other.
Suddenly, it all became crystal clear, like she'd been wandering around having forgotten to take the protective plastic off the lenses of her vision.
All the times Quinn had reached out for Santana, all the subtle ways she'd tried to say through touch what she couldn't say with words. But Santana was so dead-set on denial that she missed every subtle signal. She mistook the caress of a hopeful lover as nothing more than the kindness of a good friend.
How many years had they danced around each other? How many times had she misread Quinn's friendship and pushed her further and further away, afraid she couldn't control her desires not realizing Quinn wanted the same thing all along?
Quinn looked down after a while, suddenly finding something intriguing about her shoes.
"I miss you Santana. I've been missing you every minute of every day." Quinn glanced up briefly, afraid to hold contact for too long.
Santana offered her a smile, tightened her arms around Quinn's waist.
She couldn't take it and just kissed Quinn again and again and again. But this time it wasn't a gentle exploration. It was a frantic, mindless, desperate claiming. The release of too many years of longing, too many years of denying what she craved most. Santana devoured Quinn's mouth, sucked and swirled the length of her tongue. Lips swollen and hypersensitive pulsed with the rapid bass drum beat of her heart.
Santana felt like she was trying to climb inside Quinn, and still she couldn't get close enough, deep enough. Too long she'd wanted. Too long she'd needed. And now that she finally had a taste of Quinn, there was no way in hell she was letting go.
It couldn't be a dream, right?
When the kiss broke, Quinn's forehead made contact with her cheek, supporting all her weight and body against Santana.
This time the silence that swirled around them was laced with pure contentment and a sense that all was right in the world.
Quinn's chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths. Her skin glistened like burnished gold in the late morning sun. Around her neck, a carved green stone pendant in the shape of a triple twisted figure eight hung by a thin strip of black suede, reflected brightly. The pendant rested just below the hollow of her neck, and matched the one Santana wore.
They'd gotten the necklaces when they'd taken a trip to New Zealand after high school, to celebrate their scholarships in the same college. The path of life, it was called, the Maori symbol meaning two people bonded for life by friendship and loyalty.
After long, but still not enough minutes; tension sizzled in the heavy air between them, and still Quinn didn't raise her gaze when she began. "I really wanted to do that before leaving." Quinn mumbled; her words were lost on a rising breeze with the music sounding background.
She gently traced the line of Santana's jaw with her fingertips, a smile playing on her lips. The unfamiliar sensation sent a rush of goosebumps over Santana's skin.
But then the words hit her like a truck.
"Leaving?"
Quinn nodded before pulling her hands off Santana and flashed a quick, anxious glance over her shoulder.
"I'm leaving in the morning, to London. I won a scholarship for one year." Her voice was low but sure.
Santana felt something thick within her provoking an awful sensation. Her heart was pounding powerfully against her chest, because... how many times can a person break before the only things left are shattered fragments too small to piece back together?
Quinn looked up, and a comet of sadness streaked across her beautiful eyes. Then her gaze dropped back to the ground once more.
Santana forced her weary body to function, her eyes burning with rage. She'd had enough of nearly dying. She'd had enough of secrets and mysteries. It was hard to hold on to the very things that made her human, when there was nothing good left inside of her.
And no, she wasn't going to congratulate Quinn when she was going to be away for so long. It was unfair. Life was unfair. Love was unfair and God, how it hurt.
Quinn was leaving just after giving her the kiss of her life?
"I did mean it, you know." Quinn said with a sad smile. "I love you."
Santana closed her eyes before let Quinn's word pierce her heart. She wondered now, what would have happened if she had said those words first. Years ago.
It was crazy what a heart blinded by love could lead you to believe, this time wasn't the beginning. Quite the opposite.
Santana could sit there for hours; arguing with the world and telling everyone around her what a blessing Quinn was, she could tell everyone about all those time when Quinn have brought sun into her life. She could tell everyone how passionate Quinn was and how much she meant to her, how much she loved her, too. She could tell everyone how Quinn was chaos and beauty intertwined. A tornado of roses from divine. She could sit for hours, talking about the wonderful woman in front of her.
But instead, Santana just asked, "Can we have tonight?"
She have always known they were two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly. But Santana was certain too, that they were too damaged not to destroy each other.
Maybe this scholarship was just saving them.
Some things are just better left unsaid.
Quinn's eyes were those of someone who's just fallen in love, someone who sees nothing but her lover, someone who has no fear of anything. The eyes of someone who believes that every dream will come true, that reality will move if you just give it a push.
And with those same eyes, Quinn smiled before nodding her head, taking Santana's hand in hers.
Behind her heart there is a girl trapped within her pain– a girl feeling all the emotions of anger and sadness. She's fighting for a way out, but Quinn already gave her that night. And it was enough for the time being.
At least for a year.
Quinn will fly across the world in the morning and Santana knew that the world will stop for her, and she will not like it. She could live in it, but she will not like it.
Santana knew that she will just walk around in this crazy and big world waiting to see Quinn again and wait for the world to start moving again. Though, she will love it when it stops. It will be the best fucking thing she would ever known or ever felt because for that split second, Quinn will not be on her mind.