She stopped at the choir room door on her march out, looked back at the group of Glee kids staring after her. Only one mattered- Brittany. The blonde looked shell-shocked and a pout was quickly forming on her face. Their gazes locked and blue eyes pleaded with her to come back, to stop what she was doing and sit down next to her. Santana lifted a shoulder in a small shrug and managed a fleeting smile to reassure her before she turned and left completely. It was gone again by the time she was facing the lockers. The sound of her white Cheerios regulation sneakers against the tile floor was what she focused on. It kept her sane, kept her breathing, as she marched her ass right out of the school.
When she got to the field, she skirted around the outside of the fence, instead of the inside like she usually did. Inside was where the Cheerios would be practicing in the morning and later in the afternoon. Inside was where her life was now. Inside was the only place on the entire damned school grounds where she had some control. Outside of the fence were freedom and insecurity and the anonymity she wished she could have sometimes. But there was no going back now- she was Santana Lopez, captain of the Cheerios, head ho. And that was how it had to be. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't take fleeting moments to be by herself.
The Skanks were nowhere to be seen when she stepped beneath the bleachers. There was only Quinn dressed in one of her ridiculous outfits, smoking idly where she sat atop one of the portable benches stacked under the metal seats stretched out above them. Santana took a minute just to stare at her, absorbing the sight of the girl who'd once been her captain. She'd fallen so far. Santana wondered if she'd end up like this, too- sad, pathetic, trying so fucking hard to find who she was. Of course, for Santana, that would mean shaving her head and wearing plaid. Totally not where she wanted to end up for her senior year of high school. Silently the Latina moved forward and sat beside the pink-haired girl, her hand lifting up to meet Quinn's just as she passed the cigarette left in offering. "Thanks," Santana mumbled as she took it, lifting it to her lips for a drag.
"I thought you were quitting?" Quinn didn't look at her when she said it, but stared straight ahead as if the metal poles holding up the bleachers held particular interest for her. She didn't want to look like she cared, Santana thought, but she did. Quinn cared a fuck ton more than she pretended to and Santana knew that. They were besties for life, after all. What kind of bestie didn't know their friend backwards and forwards?
"I am," she agreed at last, taking another long drag before blowing the smoke out in an expertly steady stream. "Or I was. Kind of no point quitting something that's bad for your voice when you don't need your voice anymore." She flicked the spent cig to the ground, pressed the toe of her sneaker to it to grind it into the dirt.
"He kicked you out, huh?" Quinn smirked, her hazel eyes at last shifting to focus on the Latina sitting beside her. She only nodded, pressing her lips into a thin line. "You knew it was going to happen, Santana. You can't be the hero and the villain at the same time." She studied Santana a moment and the brunette shifted awkwardly beneath her stare, struggling to keep her relaxed, uncaring expression in place. "B's not with you," she continued after a moment's pause. She plucked another cigarette from the pack at her side, lit it idly. Santana thought she was pretty good at that for someone who had claimed to hate the taste of cigs after fucking Puck that one time. "Guess that means you managed to keep her out of it."
"Yeah." She scowled and scuffed her shoe over the ground, watched the ashes of her cigarette butt scatter as the sole of her sneaker connected with it. "I just… Fuck, Q. I didn't think he'd fucking kick me out. I just didn't want her to be in trouble with everyone." Her fisted hand slammed into the bench beneath them, rested again the cool metal. She'd been yelling, but when she spoke again, her voice had faded slightly. "They already hate me. I didn't want to give them a reason to hate her, too. She loves them, loves glee." The defenses she'd been holding onto since leaving the choir room slipped, cracked enough that tears glistened in her dark eyes. God, she fucking hated that this got to her, that she was actually hurt. But it was true. She hadn't expected to get kicked out. Fucking Rachel Berry had sent that little Asian chick to a fucking crack house and hadn't been kicked out. Santana hadn't even been the one to pour the lighter fluid on the stupid piano, and she wasn't the one who lit it up. Sure, she'd orchestrated the whole thing, but she wasn't the one who'd done it. Fucking Schuester.
"So do you."
Santana blinked, turned to stare at Quinn as the words registered. "What?"
"So do you." The pink-haired girl lifted a shoulder and looked away again, puffing away on that damned cigarette. "You love glee. You love singing and dancing and having the chance to hold onto Brittany without people saying anything. You love the people in glee, in your own weird way. Even when they let you down, even when they never seem to love you back, you still love them." A shoulder lifted slightly and Santana continued to stare. "Schuester was out of line, kicking you out. And it wasn't fair. Just remember he made that choice, not them, Santana. Not Brittany. Not Rachel. Not any of them."
Santana swiped at her damp cheeks and looked away, glared hard at the ground. "They didn't bother to tell him not to. They would have for anyone else."
"Maybe." Quinn shrugged. "I wasn't there, so I wouldn't know. But I can tell you that you and Rachel are the only ones who came looking for me, too. Maybe they just don't know what to say to make you stay, S. As for B… You know she's probably looking for you now. That girl loves you."
"Yeah…" That much Santana knew. They sat in companionable silence for a minute. Quinn offered her cigarette, but Santana shook her head slightly. She really was trying to quit- not just for glee and Cheerios, but because Brittany didn't like the taste of smoke and ash. Another few minutes went by. Quinn didn't try to comfort Santana as the Latina cried and for that she was grateful. It was already embarrassing enough without the other girl trying to make her feel better. Besides, Santana had enough control over herself that she could get it out and put it under wraps in just a few minutes. That's what she did now, wiping away the last remaining tears before she straightened up and cleared her throat. "So." A smirk slowly curved her lips and she glanced over at Quinn, who looked back with a questioning lift of her brow. That much hadn't changed. "Rachel, huh?"
Immediately Quinn stiffened and scowled, stubbing out her cigarette. "Shut up."
"Not Manhands or Treasure Trail or even Berry."
"Shut up."
Santana laughed and leaned over, compulsively hugging her friend before pulling away again. She stood and smoothed out the pleats of her Cheerios skirt, dark eyes looking down at the other girl. Quinn had changed so much, she thought. This dirty hipster look wasn't too skanktastic, she supposed, and the pink hair was kind of hot. Still, she thought Quinn could use a long soak in some really hot, soapy water. "It's cool, Fabgay. Your little lesbo crush is our secret."
"So's yours, Lolez."
"Santana?" Both girls – captain and ex-captain – turned towards the opening of the bleachers. Brittany stood there shifting nervously from foot to foot, blue eyes apprehensive. "I've been looking for you… I thought maybe you would be in the auditorium, but you weren't there and I forgot to turn on the lights when I went in so it took me a little while to find the door again… Hi, Quinn."
"Yo."
Santana studied her very best friend for a moment, absorbing the sight of the girl she loved and the meaning behind her words. She'd been looking for her. She'd gone after her. It had only taken so long because she'd gotten a bit turned around. Slowly a smile curved her lips and she held out a hand. Not a pinky or an arm- her hand. She watched as the taller girl's expression brightened and she took three long steps forward, fingers tangling with Santana's. And despite Quinn being there, looking on with a mixture of amusement and envy, Santana leaned up and pressed their lips together. "I've been looking for you, too, B," she murmured with a sigh. "For a long time." It might have confused Brittany at any other time, but this time she only smiled and hugged the Latina close, lips pressing to the tip of her nose.
"You found me."
"Okay, as nice as it is that you two have found yourselves or whatever, I've got better things to do." Quinn stood and lifted a brow, smirking across at them.
"Like what? Skip another shower?" Santana turned from Brittany, hands still linked, to eye their third friend with amusement. Quinn didn't take offense. She only flipped her off and started past them. She didn't mean to do it, but Santana went with it when her hand shot out and caught Quinn's arm. "Hey. All that stuff you said to me? About glee? Same goes. We know you miss it, Q. You should go back."
"Hypocrite," Quinn sneered, but the way her eyes flickered told Santana she'd already been thinking about it. "Look, I need to go talk to… someone. I'll see you guys later, okay?" And she started walking again.
"Bye, Quinn! Say hi to Rachel for us!" Brittany called after her. The pink-haired girl stumbled slightly, paused, and then kept walking.