A/N: So I haven't written in a while, so this will most definitely have flaws. Even so, I couldn't resist uploading this because I've been toying with it for a while now. A
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee...If I did, there would have been a lot more of Quinntana after the Valentine's Day episode.
I Miss You
She fumbled with her key in the lock, trying to be as quiet as possible; unfortunately, she failed as she surged forward into her dorm room while slamming the door in the process. Shifting her head from left to right, to right to left, she let a sigh of relief escape her parched lips. The girl silently thanked that her roommate was out today. Because if her roommate were here, she would have surely asked too many questions. Her roommate would have asked several questions. She would ask why she was out so late. Why she reeked of alcohol. Why her mascara was running. Why she was crying.
No. She couldn't handle the questions.
Kicking off her heels, she plopped herself down onto her twin sized bed. She pulled out her phone and stared wistfully at the picture she set as her home screen. Tears began to form, but she clamped her eyes closed forcing them back. 'I have to stop crying' she urged to herself. 'I shouldn't cry over someone I have no chance with.' The girl bit her lip to hold the tears that were inevitable.
The pain aching in her chest was clenching tightly, making it harder to breathe. The tears streamed down her cheeks as she kept her gaze on the picture of her home screen. Images of their night together flashed in her mind. The touches. The kisses. Everything came tumbling down on her at once all over again. Without a second thought, she grabbed her purse and pulled out a flask of whiskey. Taking a long gulp, she felt the burn down her throat. She felt the buzz starting to sink in quicker than before.
She drank more and more until not a single drop was left.
A loud sound was emanating from her bed side.
Groaning, the girl turned her body to face the blaring object that woke her up from her slumber. She retrieved the phone from her table and responded rather vehemently.
"Who the fuck is calling at three in the morning?" She seethed. The only response she got was a sharp intake of breath. "I hear you fucking breathing so if you actually have something to say, say it now before I turn this damn phone off." Santana counted to five in her head and just as she was about to turn off her phone,
"I miss you." Santana's body froze. The last time she heard that raspy voice was three months ago at Mr. Schue's failed wedding.
"Q?" Santana threw her legs over to the edge of the bed and sat up. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" She and Quinn haven't spoke since that night...Quinn left in such a hurry in the morning that they never had a proper conversation—then again, when have they ever had a proper conversation. Therefore, in Santana's mind, this must be something urgent for Quinn to be calling her at such a late time.
"I miss you, Santana." Quinn repeated.
Santana let out a sigh. "I heard you the first time, Quinn. I don't understand why you're calling to tell me this at three in the fucking morning." Santana rubbed her temples, starting to feel slightly frustrated due to the lack of sleep.
"I miss you so much." Quinn whispered quietly but loud enough for Santana to hear it. Just as Santana was about to tell Quinn off, she heard broken sobs from the other end. "I miss you so fucking much that it hurts, Santana." Quinn cries. "You plague my mind every single day and I see you in my dreams every night. When I wake up and realize you're not beside me," Quinn lets out a shaky breath. "I feel so dead inside. I feel so empty, Santana." Santana tries to respond but Quinn continues her rambling. "Why do I feel so empty without you? Why is it that I feel so numb when it comes to other guys," Quinn pauses and exhales slowly. "other girls, but when it comes to you I feel whole?" Santana's heart ached at the uncontrollable sobs that escaped Quinn's lips. "Santana, I think...I think I'm falling in love with you." Santana's breath hitches at the word and is unable to register a response quick enough because the phone line goes dead.
Santana clenches her fist tightly with her cellphone still glued to her ear. She digs her nails deeper into her skin, trying to resist the impulse, the need, to hop on the next train to Connecticut to Quinn. She wants to hold and comfort Quinn and tell her that she will never leave her. She wants to confess the feelings she had for the blonde prior to the night at the wedding. She wants Quinn. She can't deny it any longer, she wants Quinn wholeheartedly.
But she can't. She can't want Quinn. She can't be one of those people in romantic films who suddenly show up at their lovers door and confess everything. She just can't. Because when it came to Quinn, nothing was simple for Santana. It was easy to talk about things with Brittany when they were together. Everything with Brittany felt simple, safe, and warm.
With Quinn, everything gets more complex. Everything with Quinn was unclear, dangerous, and unpredictable. There are times where Santana considers Quinn her best friend and then there are times where she just wants to smack the living daylights out of her. The line defining their relationship had always been blurred.
Santana paces back and forth, contemplating what she should do with Quinn's sudden confession and the acceptance of her own feelings toward the blonde. She stops in the middle of the room.
'She said she thinks she's falling in love with me.' Santana lets out a bright smile. Thoughts of her and Quinn walking hand in hand through Central Park flashes in her mind—but only briefly. Santana shook her head vanishing all thoughts of her and Quinn as a couple and tried to think logically.
'I'm not even sure if Quinn is even gay. Quinn said it herself—it was a one (well actually two) time thing. So why should I even put myself up for heartbreak?' Santana groans starting to feel confuse at all the information and emotion hitting her at once.
''She's falling in love with me.'
"Ah, screw it." Santana quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater. She pulled up her hair into a ponytail as she tiptoed into Rachel's room. 'If memory serves me right, I saw the ticket Quinn gave Rachel right...Aha!' Santana grabbed the train tickets to New Haven, Connecticut from Rachel's shelf and proceeded out the door with her luggage.
'Well Q, here I come. Hope you're ready to take on all my baggage.'
The End.
A/N: So there you go. I'm pretty sure I'm going to leave this as a one-shot. But who knows? Maybe I will come back to it. Well with that said, drop me a review and tell me what you think.