Klainetana :) this is basically friendship fic, klaine, brittana, klainetana, etc.
anyway, i got the idea from something i saw on tumblr, but i actually have no idea who came up with the 'three muskequeers', so whoever that is YOU'RE A GENIUS. i take no credit!
I don't own anything but the plot. possible oneshot, maybe continue, depends on feedback.
thoughts
"cellphone"
text
enjoy!
Santana
I sit alone in Glee.
I'm used to it by now. Even in classes, no one talks to me. I sit by myself at lunch. I go straight home after school. My only company is Karofsky.
But it doesn't matter how used to it I am. It still hurts. I'll never say it out loud, but I'm lonely as hell.
It's literally driving me crazy.
Rachel casts me an odd glance. I roll my eyes and sit back in my seat. Mr. Schue is talking. I'm not paying attention.
"Santana!" I look up.
"Mm-hmm?"
"Have you heard a word I've been saying?"
I hesitate. "Yes."
"Really? Then what is this week's assignment?"
I blink, on the edge of words. "Uh..."
"Thought so. Santana, honestly. I really hate to say this, but if you continue to act like this, and not contribute, you're going to be out. I'm sorry, but I will do it."
I sigh and nod. "M'kay." I go back to not paying attention.
Do I really even care if I'm in Glee? They all hate me. I'm sure they'd rather I was out. Actually, you know what? I can quit. It isn't fun anymore, now that Britt-Britt hates me. I'm sure Rachel and them would rather have me gone. The only thing I've ever said to or around Kurt and Blaine that wasn't an insult was that thing with Karofsky. Where is Karofsky? I didn't see him today...
"Santana, are you taking me seriously? I'd rather you stayed in this club."
I bite my lip. "Actually, Mr. Schue..."
He raises an eyebrow. I'm suddenly overcome with annoyance.
"Mr. Schue, I don't honestly care if I'm in the club anymore. None of you are my friends, I don't have fun in here anymore. So go ahead and kick me off. I don't give a shit about any one of you. Just like you don't care about me, okay? I gotta go, I'm Dave's ride."
That last part was a lie. He's usually my ride, but today, he is strangely not present.
Maybe he's sick. I sigh and decide to just walk.
It's true that Lima Heights Adjacent is technically the average/upper class part of town that's right next to the bad part of town. That doesn't mean it's safe to walk home. Nothing usually happens, but the way the school is angled with my house, I have to walk through said bad part of town to get home. I also lived there up until age twelve. My dad got a raise, and after a while, we had the money to move. Lima Heights Adjacent is the average/upper class, but Lima Heights is the upper-upper class. Like, Quinn lives there. It's crazy expensive.
I always take a second and look at our old place when I'm walking home. It's a run-down one-story, cheap plastic tiles, graffiti on one of the walls. But honestly, we were happier there than we've ever been in the Adjacent.
You know, nobody ever bothered to find out that I don't have a mom. She was diagnosed with skin cancer when I was five, died four years later. I miss her more than anything.
Brittany knows that. She's the only one. And absolutely nobody knows that I only actually see my dad about once a week, and that's in passing. Not even my brother knows that. He moved out, though. He's in college.
I pull out my key and unlock the door exhaling slowly. Our house is a two-story. Four bedroom, three bath. There's a spacious kitchen connecting to the TV room which houses a giant-ass HD flatscreen, which connects to the hall, where the stairs come down, and the door is at the end of the hall.
I drop my bag by the door, kick off my shoes, and turn on my PS3 for a three-hour Bulletstorm marathon. Fun.
You wouldn't guess it, but honestly, I do geek out sometimes. I will admit that I saved up for months to get a ticket to the last Comic-Con. It was AWESOME. I was glad I put a mask on, though, cause I saw Sam there. I was dressed as Catwoman. Suits me, don't you think?
At five, I sign on to Gmail. I have a few random spams, nothing important. There's never anything important anymore. I spend my Friday nights alone nowadays.
Not that I like it.
Kurt
"No offense, and all, but didn't you used to always call her a bitch?", Blaine asks exasperatedly.
"Well, yeah, but I probably shouldn't have. I don't know her, y'know? And come on, you know Brittany was her only friend? I don't know what happened with them."
"Huh. Do you think Mr. Schue will kick her off?"
I sigh. "I hope not. She's, like, really good. And I know I told Rachel once that she was replaceable, but honestly, no one is. No one else would join. And it's a miracle we even ever had Santana, and Brittany, and Quinn."
"Yeah... Well, and Finn, and all the other guys from the football team. In a lot of schools..."
"I know! I know that. But still, does she really think we all hate her?"
"Well,"Blaine began in his reasonable tone,"What would you think? She's kind of been, well, a bitch. From what you tell me."
"Well, yeah, but she obviously isn't like that all the time. Otherwise Brittany wouldn't like her."
"And also, she probably would've let Karofsky pound us both to shit. I know I said we could've handled it, but seriously..."
"Oh, I know, I was freaking out!"
"Wanna watch it again?"
"Seriously, Blaine? Okay."
"No, I still just don't see it. How do I look like him?"
Blaine is a serious Harry Potter addict. There's this YouTube thing called 'A Very Potter Musical' and Blaine totally looks like Darren Criss. He just doesn't get it.
"You just do. You could be him, I wouldn't even notice. Well, I probably would, but you know what I mean."
"Whatever."
"Maybe you're twins!", I say excitedly.
"Obviously."
"Oh, shut up and put it on."
Blaine does so, but he glances back at me with an eyebrow raised. "Well...do you mean the video, or..."
"Oh, that's what she said. Okay."
Santana
I guess I was expecting it. Y'know, to get kicked off? After what I said yesterday, I was pretty sure Mr. Schue would take a vote. And he did.
So as I approach the choir room after school, Mr. Schue stops me outside.
"Uh, Santana..."
"That's my name."
"About what you said yesterday, I decided to take a vote."
"And...what did they say?"
"Only two people voted in your favor. I'm sorry, Santana, but it's almost unanimous, I have to go by popular opinion. You were a great addition to the club. We'll miss you."
I shake my head, smiling cynically. "No, two people will miss me. Can I ask who they were, at least?"
He hesitates. "Well, Kurt and Blaine."
I nod slowly, and turn to walk away. That stings a little more than I thought it would. I'd hoped Brittany would be one of them. I guess that it really is over. I curse the tears in my eyes. I screwed up, and Brittany didn't understand. She's innocent to a near fault, and that's what ended us.
But I won't get into that now. I check to make sure no one is around, and I slam my locker open, grab my jacket and fling it shut with a loud crash. Tears are flowing out of my eyes, and I storm out into the parking lot. I pull the door to Karofsky's car open and sit down heavily.
"What the- San? What's wrong?", he asks tentatively.
"Nothing. Just...thinking about stuff. I got kicked out of Glee club."
"Oh. That sucks."
I glare at him, but I'm honestly not sure if I'm looking at him or something else. I can hardly see.
"Well, what do you want me to say? That club is lame."
"No, it's not. Don't be a douche, Karofsky. Those are, like, the only good people in this school. Probably why I got kicked off."
"They shouldn't of done that, okay? You're just as good as any of them."
I give him a look. "No. I'm a l... I'm g... I'm...lebanese, and I can't even say it out loud! Okay, what fucking kind of person is that? At least Kurt and his hobbit can admit it."
"Really? Look what I did to Kurt, San. At least you're better than me." His voice is so broken that I want to hug him but I don't.
I sigh. "I was hardly any better with Hummel, Karofsky. D'you know I called him Tinkerbell? Or Ladyface? Porcelain? I've never called him 'Kurt' to his face."
"Why are we even talking about this? It's done with, okay? Just...we should get over it."
"Good luck with that."
"Same to you."
I sigh and there's a long moment of silence.
He looks over at me. "Let's go."
The next day, I approach the locker that Kurt and Blaine have been sharing ever since Blaine transferred with my jaw set in determination.
See, I'm a bitch by nature. It's part of the walls I like to put up. 'Thank you' is hardly in my vocabulary.
So, this is far from easy for me.
As I come closer, Kurt glances up, looks confused, and whispers something to Blaine, who is looking in, I think, his History book. Blaine looks up as well.
"Um...hi.", I say awkwardly.
They exchanged a glance and Kurt nods in reply.
"Well..." I curse inwardly. "I just kind of..." Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. "Mr. Schue told me that you guys are the only two who voted for me to not get kicked off. So I just wanted to, y'know, like, say thanks. For the effort. So, yeah."
I turn around and start to walk away. An incredibly soft hand grabs my arm. Duck fat, he says? Eh, not worth it.
"What, T...uh, Kurt?"
He blinks, shocked by my lack of an insult. "You got kicked off? We just thought you didn't show."
"Mr. Schue didn't...? Well, I did. Everyone but you guys said that they didn't want me, so..." I shrug, deciding not to speak because my voice is starting to sound a little thick, as if I'm going to cry or something. Santana Lopez doesn't cry. Yesterday was an exception. And the day before that. And every single fucking day since Brittany started to hate me. It doesn't fucking count.
"He didn't tell us.", Blaine says in this soft voice, as if he's sorry for me or something. But that's ridiculous. "I'm sorry about that, I honestly can't believe them."
I sigh. "Whatever. I had it coming. I'm kind of a self-involved bitch? You all kind of wanted me gone anyway." I smirk wryly, feeling tears coming to my eyes. "You guys probably just knew you wouldn't be able to get a twelfth member soon enough for sectionals. I gotta go. I have trig. Check ya later. Well, never mind, I'll probably wind up never speaking to you again. Whatever." I swipe a hand past my eye as I turn around, hoping my mascara isn't smearing.
I'm so freaking emotional lately. Without Britts, I'm just...well, a mess.
"Um...Santana?", Kurt calls out, hesitance clear in his voice.
I don't turn around. I don't want them to know I'm crying at this point. "What?"
"We, uh, we were gonna go by my place, watch a movie, you know, after school? Do you want to...come with?"
I freeze. Is he joking? I didn't know he was that cruel. He's not, though, is he? "I... Maybe. What movie?"
"Something Disney.", Blaine supplies.
"Oh... I... Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I mean, why not?"
"Okay, then. I'll meet you here after the last bell?"
"Cool. See you then." I hear there footsteps start up and fade away as I also start to walk.
I really hate Azimio. I hear a shuffle of footsteps, see a bright flash of green, feel a harsh, cold blow to the face, and taste sour-watermelon. And then the green slushy is soaking into my hair, dripping down my chest and my back, getting into my eyes, and he's laughing.
"That's what you get, Lez-Pez!"
I whirl around, shoving a portion of the slushy off my face.
"What'd you just call me?", I demand.
"Everybody knows, homo. We all know. The Jew-Fro kid posted it on his blog."
My lips mold into a snarl. "Ben Israel."
"I don't hear you denying it."
"I shouldn't have to."
He walks away, and all I can do is hope he doesn't take it the way I meant it.
