Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not know Naya Rivera and this was only written for my own entertainment/emotional torture.
You had always thought she would wait for you; that you would wait for each other. The timing had not been right since the very beginning, when everything was easy and no one was watching you. But still, even after that messy, tearful night when things were officially broken off, it had never been over. You still found each other – in trailers in between scenes, in bed during sleepovers after late night of filming, on your trips to Mexico – and it was so easy to fall into the same routine. As if nothing had ever changed.
But now you know definitively that everything has changed. It is the first time you had ever considered that your stories might not end together. That you might not again wake again with her warm body pressed against you and blonde hair spread all over your chest and warm breath tickling your neck.
When you saw her for the first time without that baggy sweatshirt this morning you couldn't stop staring at the change in her body, torn between a desire to run away to cry and an insane urge to reach out and touch. Instead you gave her the most causal smile you could manage and told her how beautiful she looked. And she was. Absolutely stunning.
(But you knew that later, once you could be alone, the tears would come).
You could never resent her for this, and you knew that you would not be able to resent this baby either, no matter how much it will hurt the first time you see a picture of what could have been yours. Should have been yours.
Falling in love with her had happen so quickly, so unexpectedly, wrapped up with the excitement of finally making it and adjusting to a role in the public eye. It had been a whirlwind romance, over almost before you had realized how deep your connection ran. Those last night conversations whispered against soft skin and hidden beneath sweaty sheets had focused on the present, never veering off to construct dreams of a shared life.
(But that had never stopped you from imagining one).
And years later, here you are. Filming this scene that feels too final and too real. Does it even count as acting? At least the script calls for crying; you would never have been able to stop the tears that start as soon as she approaches you for the hug.
You resist the urge to bury your face in her neck and sob, instead delicately rest your head on her shoulder and close your eyes tight. You take in a gasping breath and are flooded with a scent that brings back far too many memories as you try your best not to feel what presses against your stomach. Instead, for just a moment, you allow yourself to hold her and feel like nothing has changed.
But everything has changed. And when she pulls out of your arms you can't meet her eyes. You are taken over by the gut-wrenching realization that it might truly be over. That you will never get a real chance together. Never get a happy ending.
(But in that moment, everything had been the same).