Heaven Can Wait

by Atsalini

Brittany takes the final step and closes the gap between them. Their bodies are flush together and Santana shivers at the warmth that Brittany's body provides. She feels Brittany's face inches apart, their lips so close but not quite touching. They're breathing the same air and Santana waits on it but Brittany doesn't kiss her. [Mentions of drugs, though nothing too graphic]

I.

The room is only lit by a few half burned candles scattered around, the music is way too loud or maybe it is just Santana who feels like her head is about to explode whenever the singer's voice blares through the room. She isn't really sure anymore. Not about her senses and not about one single thing she does in her life.

She rubs her eyes, adjusting to the low dim and combs her fingers through her unruly hair before pulling it up into a bun. She knows that she shouldn't be here. Despite of all the things she has no clue about, this is the only thing she knows. That with every minute she spends in the rundown apartment she is damaging herself even more. Physically and emotionally.

But that's why she needs it, even wants it. Because she has spent enough time already walking through her life, trying to keep herself together. And because she is miserably failing at it, she finds herself the third Friday in a row in Elliot's boyfriend's apartment that looks like any minute someone from the local health office is going to burst through the door and shut down the whole thing.

She takes a glance around the room, watching the people surrounding her. She doesn't know one single person of them. Only Elliot's boyfriend, but he is somewhere Santana isn't sure about. Maybe at Elliot's apartment, they are in a relationship after all, therefore spending Friday night with the significant other, rather than hanging out with a bunch of misfits doing lines instead of getting their lives together.

The couch that Santana is sitting on is filthy and the longer she sits on it, the more does her skin itch. She has this strong need to just rip her skin off, maybe the feeling of constriction is going to fade that way. Maybe after all there is a zipper somewhere on her skin that she hasn't found yet, so that she can just shrug it off like a Halloween costume.

There is a girl across from her, sitting on the couch with what seems to be her boyfriend. Maybe he is, maybe he's not. Santana has come to notice that this is like a rat cage, everyone fucks everyone in here without acknowledging boundaries, hygiene or protection and she, luckily, has managed to stay away from all of them. Thankfully. She doesn't stay longer than necessary.

The girl's hair is purple, faded from washing it and one side of her hair is shaved off, bald skin showing, her face is filled with different piercings, metal rings glinting in the candle light. Her boyfriend seems to have more ink than actual skin covering his torso and Santana watches them as he scratches his dirty fingernails over her exposed thigh. They have already passed the line of being high and are now floating into another universe, far away from reality and the world they are currently residing in.

Santana has to shudder at the grotesque image in front of her and she quickly opens her purse. The faster she gets this over with, the earlier she will be home. And maybe, just maybe if luck is on her side today- which never actually happens- Kurt and Rachel will be out today with the rest of the NYADA students so that she can just ride off her high in peace without her loud roommates.

She tries to ignore her reflection when she pulls out the tiny mirror that she has for make-up occasions in her purse- today isn't one of those. She doesn't need to see her exhausted features, the helpless and lost look, the guilt. She gets to see it enough times already when she has to go to the bathroom.

Today is that kind of occasion where she needs her mirror for something not as harmless as make-up. The little bag with the white powder feels so much heavier than it actually is, almost impossible to lift when she pinches it between her fingers and Santana tries to bite back the voice in her head screaming at her to consider, to stop being stupid and start making smart decisions.

But today she doesn't feel like making smart decisions. Today she feels like forgetting and ignoring, even if it is just for a small amount of time

She has to think of her mother and how disappointed she would be if she knew what she is doing in New York when she inhales the first time that night. But as soon as the stinging feeling in her nose appears, the face of her mother disappears back into the drawer in her head where it came from.

II.

She's lucky tonight, Santana thinks when she slides the door to her apartment open and stumbles inside, barely able to stand upright.

All the lights are off and there is not one single noise besides the traffic of the busy street downstairs echoing through the achingly empty apartment. Santana wonders how a room so quiet, can feel so painfully loud, how with no one blasting old show tunes or singing or arguing she feels like she needs to clamp her hands over her ears and start screaming so that the she can drown out all the noises, till it is just a muffled sound, as though she is underwater.

She barely manages to pull the curtain to her bedroom cubicle shut before she falls onto her bed. But again she hears all those noises and even though she has her pillow pressed over her ears she can hear them, loud and clear, yelling at her hysterically. She realizes that all those noises, all those yelling voices are in her head, her mind working a million miles per hour. She hears Kurt and Rachel, her mom, her dad and abuela, even herself. She can't make out what all those voices are saying, just the anger and disappointment, frustration and sadness.

Tonight she's not flowing on clouds. Tonight everything already inside of her is enhanced, screaming loudly at her. Tonight she has stayed on earth, anchored back into reality. Her limbs feel heavy as though someone has replaced her blood with lead and she is barely able to move without it turning into a battle.

And again all those noises, all those voices. She wants them to stop. She wants to hear old show tunes, singing and arguments, she wants the street traffic to lull her into sleep, relax her into her usual state when she is about to sleep. But nothing happens tonight and she feels paranoid and again she wants to claw her own skin off.

Nothing is right, nothing will ever feel right and Santana pulls her pillow even tighter around her head, trying to muffle all the sounds but they just won't fade. So she lets out an ear piercing scream that would have woken her neighbors if it wasn't for the pillow swallowing every sound she makes. And it doesn't take long till her screaming turns into hoarse whimpers and everything she is aware of are the hot tears streaming down her face before she drifts off into sleep.

She was wrong earlier, tonight she's not lucky.

III.

The cluttering in the kitchen wakes her up the next morning. The sunlight hurts her eyes, she has a headache and for a moment Santana considers staying in bed the whole day today, maybe even tomorrow and the day after. Maybe even forever.

She is surprised that she can't hear the usual humming of Broadway songs and is instead hearing the radio playing softly in the kitchen. It's actually their iPod docking station that has a radio function and none of them has ever used it for that. So Santana is cautious when her feet touch the floor, so that she can get up.

She finds an old pair of shorts in her drawers and she desperately wants to hide under a hoodie but it's too hot outside, so she settles for a loose tank top that is maybe a bit too long for the shorts she is wearing and a little bit too revealing to hide her breasts. She tries to bring her hair into an order, as much as it is possible at this time of day and under the state she is in now.

Every step into the kitchen causes her to wince in pain. The headache feels not like a headache but more like someone constantly trying to ram a nail through her skull. But she fights her way through to the kitchen, past Kurt's and Rachel's sleeping cubicles. Their curtains are ajar and Santana can see that both of them are sleeping, so who in hell is in their kitchen if neither of the residents of this apartment are?

Santana's heart hammers in her chest at the thought of a burglar in their apartment. She is in no state to fight or do anything rather than striving for the coffee pot in the kitchen. But if they're lucky enough, the burglar will discover Rachel's vegan shit in the fridge and will run out of this apartment. She tries going through every possible scenario in her head which is difficult considering the person trying to ram the nail into her skull has yet to stop.

But she is surprised that it's not a burglar but a blonde someone, rummaging through the various cupboards in the kitchen. She tip toes when she has to reach the top of the shelf and Santana peaks at the silver of skin showing when her shirt rises up.

Santana doesn't say anything, she doesn't really care to be honest. This girl is not the first one to be in her apartment. Kurt and Rachel seem to bring every week someone new in here. Santana hasn't figured out yet what happens to them because after the first time they don't show up again, at least most of the time. But it doesn't really surprise her either because Kurt and Rachel together when they are drunk is a hard pill to swallow.

Kurt alone is a great friend, Rachel alone is- drunk or sober, doesn't really matter- obnoxious and annoying. So Santana has made it her mission to never be alone with Rachel more than small amounts of time because one day, she is sure, she is going to murder her loud roommate.

Santana shuffles over to the coffee pot, ignoring the stranger in her kitchen that is hidden behind the door of the cupboard and grabs a mug, filling it to the brim with coffee. She almost drops it when she is met with curious, blue eyes staring at her and she holds up her free hand to her chest, trying not to spill the scorching liquid all over herself.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." The stranger smiles and Santana doesn't say anything in response. How can someone be so chipper this early in the morning? She just takes a seat and inhales the scent of freshly brewed coffee. It doesn't lessen the aching in her head but it sure helps a bit.

The stranger sets a bowl onto the table and when she has milk and cereal, she takes a seat across Santana. She is smiling again and Santana has the sudden urge to punch a wall, so she reaches over, taking the milk as the girl fills her bowl with cereal and pours some of it into her coffee before handing it back.

"Thanks." There is that smile again and for a moment Santana feels like she is being made fun of. She doesn't know for what, but it sure feels like it because no one smiles as much as this girl does and it is making Santana a bit mad.

She knows that she is probably sensitive today because she has a killer headache but she is sure that this would have annoyed her in her normal state as much as it does now. But she ignores it and instead tries to not wince at the sound of crunching cereals whenever blondie bites down on it.

"You're Santana, right? Kurt told me about you yesterday. Said that it is you three living in here. You have a nice apartment." Santana doesn't answer, she doesn't even nod and the girl doesn't seem to mind that this conversation is one sided and Santana doesn't mind the talking either, as long as she doesn't have to contribute to it. "I'm Brittany." She adds when she has swallowed another mouthful of cereal.

This time Santana nods in acknowledgment and Brittany's lips curve into a smile. This one is smaller than the other ones. It's not chipper like the previous. It's small, triumphant and comfortable and Santana even finds herself in an attempt to mirror the small curve. She thinks she is successful, judging by the small glint in Brittany's eyes.

"So you don't talk that much." Brittany acknowledges and Santana wants to laugh. It's really contradictory how she can either be the loudest or the quietest person. This morning she feels like latter. Maybe it's because it's still too early for her brain to function properly, maybe because her head is pounding. She takes a sip from her coffee before shrugging and watches as Brittany shovels another spoon of cereal into her mouth.

She wants to ask what Brittany is doing here, what is going on and why Rachel and Kurt, who are usually wide awake this time of the day, are still knocked out in their beds. She really wants to know, she has, after all, a curious side in her that always seeks for explanations but today she is way too exhausted to move her mouth to form words.

"That's okay." Brittany reasons and the way she says it makes Santana believe that it would be totally okay if she just decided to stop talking forever. In the reassuring, not judging way and Santana has to give again that tiny smile in acknowledgment.

Santana rubs her eyes tiredly and her nose starts tickling the way it does when she usually has to sneeze. Her nose scrunches up and Brittany hands her a Kleenex just when Santana is about to sneeze. Santana wipes her nose when she is done and looks at Brittany, smiling at her thankfully but instead of finding the same smile that has been constantly plastered on Brittany's face, she finds panicked eyes staring back at her.

Everything happens so fast. Brittany whips up from her chair, grabbing as many tissues as possible before rushing around the table, over to Santana. But all she can think about is how confused she is and what exactly she has done wrong. One second Brittany is light around her and the next she behaves like an electrocuted fish.

"Santana, look at me." Brittany says and Santana turns her head, meeting Brittany's concerned expression. "You're bleeding." And it's only when Brittany says it, that Santana notices the warm liquid trickling from her nose and the taste of copper in her mouth. Brittany dabs at her face and Santana drives out of her stupor, pushing herself off the chair and stumbling back onto the ground, bringing as much distance between her and Brittany as possible.

Brittany looks startled but Santana doesn't pay attention. She holds her hand to her nose, trying to keep more blood from trickling out but the flow seems never ending, like a leaking faucet. The blood has moved down her wrists and is painting bloody paths on her skin. She wants to cry and scream. She knows where this sudden nose bleed is coming from, she knows why it happened and she can't help the guilt.

She thinks of her mother again and her dad who trust her. Who gave her money to follow her dreams in New York instead of going to college. Everything is wrong and she knows it. Yet she is too weak to do anything else than take the wrong path because this one's not filled with giant, heavy rocks blocking every step she wants to take.

For a moment she thinks the voices are back, the screaming in her head picks up from where it has left off since yesterday night. But then she hears her name and she sees blue eyes watching her. Brittany is kneeling in front of her and is pulling her hand from her nose, so that she can hold a tissue against it. Brittany's shirt has crimson smudges on it but she doesn't seem to mind one bit. She just keeps calm, helping Santana to stop the blood flow.

Brittany treats her like she is fragile. Not in the overly protective way but in the careful, respectful way and Santana feels stupid for being such an asshole to her mere minutes ago. But it's okay, she thinks. She can make up for it, so she settles back, letting Brittany help her as her heart hammers in her chest, a million miles per hour. All she can see is blue eyes, all she is aware of is Brittany. The gentle touches, the careful strokes.

And for the first time she doesn't need drugs to stop the voices in her head.

III.

After Santana's nose has stopped bleeding and Brittany has cleaned off the blood that trickled onto floor when Santana shot back from her seat earlier, nothing much happens. All Santana can do is stare at the crimson stains on Brittany's and her own shirt. She has this increased urge to rip the fabric off her body and burn it so that she'll never have to see it again.

Brittany is quiet, she doesn't say anything. She seems so concentrated on the task of cleaning, her mushy cereal long forgotten in her bowl and Santana feels guilty and embarrassed. She feels like this is a sign that she is indeed losing control and on her way to completely falling apart.

She tip toes her way back to her sleeping cubicle, drawing the curtain closed behind her, so that none of her roommates will see her acting like a lunatic while she pulls at the handle of her drawer violently, its hinges going off and all her clothes inside of it scattering all over her sleeping area. She claws her tank top off, replacing it with a black shirt so that when something like that happens again, she won't have to see the blood stains on her shirt. The constant reminder.

When she makes her way back into the kitchen, a second shirt in her hand for Brittany, she sees her rinsing off her bowl and drying it up with a dish towel before placing it back into its place. Santana wishes she had this kind of sense for order and cleanness but she doesn't. So instead she tries to think of how to approach Brittany. She desperately needs to do it.

Brittany smiles at her when she turns around as Santana makes her way towards her hesitantly. The smile is tiny, careful and Santana appreciates that she doesn't say anything to the incident mere minutes ago. She extends her hand, shirt in hand, showing it to Brittany.

"Oh, it's okay. No need to worry. It's just a bit blood." But Santana doesn't offer the shirt to Brittany so that she doesn't have to walk around with a blood stained shirt. She offers it because Santana can't bear seeing the crimson stains on it, the reminder of how stupid she is.

And it's not just blood. For someone who is not able to see into Santana's head it might seem like only blood, but to Santana it is a warning light. A reminder for her lack of control. Brittany doesn't know it and she will never know the desperation cursing inside Santana, the worry and the fear of not knowing what to do anymore. She will never understand, no one will ever understand, and for the first time in Santana's life she is so glad that no one can see inside her head.

"Take it." Santana says, it sounds broken and hoarse and she hopes that Brittany will just take it because if she keeps staring at the blood one second longer, she is going to start crying and she really doesn't want to cry when the apartment is filled. Brittany sucks her lips into her mouth, nodding timidly and then before Santana can say anything, Brittany is pulling her shirt over her head and replaces it with the fresh one. It all happens so fast, Santana barely has time to blink.

The look that she receives from Brittany makes Santana uneasy. For a moment she feels like she is reeking of desperation and fear. It's a natural scent that she wears like a perfume but contrary to a perfume Santana can't just wash it off with some soap and water. It clings to her skin and clothes, like a blanket wrapped around her and no matter how many scented candles Rachel will ever light, it will never cover it.

Santana takes a step back, trying to bring some distance between her and Brittany who is biting her lip in what seems to be worry but Santana doesn't want to see it. She doesn't want to think of anyone worrying or even thinking of her. It's just a waste of time and she presses her fingers to her temples, trying to massage the excruciating pain in her head away. Why can't someone take the hammer from that person that is trying to ram a nail through her skull? Why can't someone alleviate the pain that she's in?

She doesn't want to see how she is looking right now. She feels crazy and so close to a panic attack. Her breath comes out in short puffs, she is trying to expand her lungs but her ribs feel like a cage that hinders her from being able to breathe properly. She presses one hand to her chest, trying to lessen the suffocation but she can't. She plops back onto one of the chairs, gasping for air.

"Water." She chokes and for the first time in long minutes she dares looking at Brittany. She shouldn't have done that because the look that she sees there just increases the frenzy that her body is in.

Brittany moves around the kitchen, Santana can't see her but she can hear the doors of the cupboards hitting and seconds later the water coming out from the tap. Those sounds mingle with the voices in her head, the screaming and the yelling. It doesn't stop, it just seems to become louder every passing minute.

"Here." Brittany is kneeling in front of her, confusion and worry written all over her face. Santana's hand is shaking when she lifts the glass to her lips. Brittany reaches up, placing her hand over Santana's, steadying her. Santana's skin burns. It feels like someone just placed her hand onto the still hot stove. And to make it worse Brittany starts rubbing Santana's back and even through the material of her shirt it feels as hot as her hand.

But to her surprise the feeling of suffocation decreases. Her ribs don't feel like a cage anymore and Santana's chest expands as she takes in deep, calming breaths. Brittany is so close, so painfully close, blue eyes piercing through her and Santana tries to remember how she got into this situation in the first place and how she managed to make a fool out of herself twice in not even half an hour.

"You okay?" It's a whisper, clear and loud and it rings in her ears when Brittany takes the glass from her, placing it onto the table next to the reason of her panic attack. Her blood stained shirt. Brittany snatches it away quickly, hiding it behind her so that no one will have to see it anymore. Santana nods but desperately wants to say no, she is not okay but when her eyes lock again with Brittany's the voices vanish.

IV.

Santana thinks this is a bad idea. No, she doesn't think that this is a bad idea. She absolutely knows that it is one. Because the second she sets foot into Elliot's building her whole body is buzzing with negative energy that only happens when she knows that either something bad is going to happen or she is going to do something stupid. And not rarely both of the options.

She is clutching a bottle of rum in her hand, with the other one she is trying to adjust her dress so that her breasts won't spill out of her cleavage. Although most of the people will be gay guys and not interested in her body, she doesn't want to have more slip ups than absolutely necessary.

It's just a small get together Kurt said and that is good. But what is not good and what makes it a bad idea is the fact that Elliot's boyfriend will be there, too and Santana knows that if she sees him her vows to herself to stop buying his stuff will go flying out of the window.

The voices have started again and usually she just drowns them in alcohol but it takes a while for it to kick in. After excessive drinking and partying she has started growing some resistance and she needs more alcohol for the voices to stop. And alcohol doesn't always work, she is usually very emotional when is drunk.

Most of the time she just locks herself up in a bathroom and starts crying like an idiot, till her mascara has disappeared from all the tears and until there are no more tears to cry. But what she has come to notice is that lately the tears don't seem to lessen. She is crying so much and with every new time there only seem to collect more.

Kurt is walking next to Santana, helping her with adjusting her outfit and occasionally humming along to one of Rachel's rants who is walking ahead, vegan muffins in hand. Santana has the pizza delivery guy on speed dial just in case because there is no way she is going to touch Berry's vegan shit.

"You okay?" Kurt whispers and Santana's eyes move frantically to him. She feels like ever since her slip up in the kitchen with Brittany a week ago she has lost it. She feels so out of it and if she thought that Kurt wouldn't catch up on it then she was highly mistaking. Of course he would notice that she has become quiet and the usual snarky comments are not as mean as the used to be. Halfhearted, yes, but not fiery.

Santana swallows thickly, unscrewing the rum and taking a sip, trying not to gag at the disgusting taste before she nods, pushing Kurt towards the elevator before he can ask anything further.

Soft music is playing in the apartment when they enter. Elliot has already started drinking and his boyfriend is sitting on the couch when Santana spots him. Sebastian nods when he sees her and Santana tries to ignore the voices that have started screaming louder upon seeing him.

What Santana wonders about is how someone like Elliot has a boyfriend like Sebastian. While Elliot is glamourous, passionate and crazy talented, Sebastian just reeks of superiority and vanity. Someone like him will never be good enough for someone like Elliot. And Santana fears that as long as Sebastian sticks around with Elliot, she will never be able to keep herself collected.

It only gets better when the bell rings again and Elliot moves towards the door, revealing no one other than Brittany. Santana thinks she might go insane. Is her karma that bad that she is constantly being punished for things she has never done?

She moves to the couch, plops herself next to Sebastian and unscrews the cap of the bottle, taking a few gulps of rum. It still tastes awful but Santana need to survive this night without any embarrassing incidents in Brittany's company. She hands the bottle Sebastian who doesn't take as many sips as her, he might be a drug selling idiot but he can't handle liquor.

"You got stuff?" Santana asks and Sebastian looks like he has been waiting for that question ever since she stepped into this apartment. His lips form into a dirty smile that makes Santana want to punch him right in the face. But she doesn't say anything else because Sebastian glances around and then he nods towards the kitchen.

Santana follows him but before she can walk into the kitchen her eyes fall on Brittany who is watching her and she looks down at her shoes. She wonders if she will ever stop feeling so uneasy about what happened around Brittany. Probably not and that's why she needs the voices to stop. So she doesn't look at Brittany again when she steps into kitchen.

Sebastian is already rummaging through his pockets and when he finds it, he pulls out a small bag with white powder and Santana feels that heavy weight on her chest that always seems to settle upon her whenever she sees drugs. She may not like Sebastian but he does give his 'friends'- not that Santana counts him as one- discount on his stuff. And she is glad because she doesn't have that much money on her. And she also doesn't want spend more on it than she already does.

She slips the bag into her bra, how ironic she thinks. The same heavy weight on her now tugged into her bra. This is just proof that no one gets it from the outside. That all the scars are emotionally, carved into her soul. Hidden from everyone. And she likes it that way. No one needs to see how fucked up inside she feels.

Sebastian disappears once he has counted his money and seconds later Brittany appears at the door.

The happy look is gone. Her smile is gone. Santana doesn't know why but it affects her a lot more than it should and she has the suspicion that Brittany knows exactly why Sebastian and her were alone in the kitchen. But if she knows she doesn't mention it and Santana won't stay longer to suffer under Brittany's penetrating gaze. Because no matter how hard she tries to fight it she feels exposed, like she's made of glass and Brittany can see right through her.

Santana wants to pass Brittany but she feels a gentle tug at her wrist and she lifts her gaze to look at her. She doesn't see the breathtakingly blue shade of the ocean. The only thing she sees is the dull, sad glint that makes Santana feel even worse than before. The heavy weight now is a mountain on her chest and whereas she was able to breathe earlier, albeit restrained, now she can't even suck some air into her lungs.

Her body feels like someone has lit it on fire, starting from where Brittany has her fingers wrapped around Santana's wrist. And it's only getting worse the longer she stares into Brittany's eyes. Because those aren't the eyes she got to see the first time when she met Brittany in her kitchen. This is the other side, the one that Santana doesn't want to see because guilt doesn't fit her, it makes her feel awful.

And for the first time Brittany's eyes aren't able to quieten the voices in her head. Her gaze is filled with silent questions and pleas that Santana can't bear and tonight, if Brittany isn't going to stop the screaming in her head, the drugs will have to suffice.

V.

Kurt is barely able to hold her upright when they walk up the stairs to their apartment later that night. Santana is high and drunk out of her mind and she is sure that if she drank a bit more she would have passed out. Which wouldn't be great. At least she thinks that because she can barely form a thought through the alcohol and drug induced haze in her mind.

"Santana." She hears Kurt say but she barely registers it. The only thing she knows is that her body feels incredibly heavy and that even though she is so out of it she can still hear all the people in her head yelling and she is sure that she is crying because her eyes are getting blurry and she can barely see but she can feel the hot wetness on her face and the shaking of her body.

She wants it to stop but she has no control over her body to stop it. Kurt is there and she thinks Rachel is somewhere, too but she can't focus on anything. Her body falls against the soft cushions of their couch in the living room and she just starts sobbing harder. Kurt has now two heads and she doesn't know which one is real. She sees his mouth moving but she can't hear anything besides the voices in her head.

She clamps her hands over her ears to stop hearing them but it doesn't work because they are in her head. "No." She mumbles. She starts rocking back and forth, back and forth. Maybe if she keeps moving she won't hear them anymore.

She can't handle the disappointment. She can't handle the guilt. It's so loud, so, so loud, so excruciating, she feels the pain in her lungs, she can't breathe, she is gasping for air but all she can do is sob and mumble 'no' over and over again. The rocking of her body makes her nauseous and when she finally focuses on Kurt again he is talking to someone next to him. Even through her haze she can see blue eyes, so full of concern and worry and it makes Santana feel worse.

Why won't they stop?

Brittany sends Kurt off somewhere and then Santana is there alone with her but she can't speak because the nausea is getting worse and before she can do anything more she is getting up, wobbly on her feet and she is barely able to reach the bathroom and bend over the toilet bowl before she is emptying the contents of her stomach in it- not that there was anything besides alcohol and coffee in it. She heaves and gags and cries and Santana doesn't think that she has ever felt worse than that. She doesn't think anyone has ever been and acted so pathetic before.

She has to stop. She has reached her limit. She can't continue like this anymore. She can't stop feeling bad for herself anymore. If she wants to get better she will have to make changes. How ironic it is to be thinking about it while she throws up.

Somewhere in between trying to breathe and trying not to gag anymore she feels hands pulling her hair back and the soft rubs against her back. She feels the familiar burn of Brittany's touch and she finally feels herself relax. How is it possible that whenever Santana hits rock bottom Brittany is there to witness it? By now it has happened so many times Santana is past feeling embarrassed. The only thing she feels is pathetic.

Eventually she registers that Brittany is murmuring behind her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, telling her it is going to be fine. But Santana highly doubts that. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and falls back against the bathtub.

She feels tired, so, so exhausted. She can't fight anymore. And she lets Brittany flush the toilet and help her brush her teeth to get the taste of vomit out of her mouth. And then she has warm water run into the bathtub, the scent of one of Kurt's bath oils filling the bathroom.

A few seconds later Brittany turns around and looks at Santana, soft and hesitant. She takes a step closer, pressing against her and Santana feels pale fingers wrap around her wrist. The touch sends tingles through her body and it has been a while since she has felt that. The other one reaches for the zipper on the side of her dress and Santana lifts her arm letting Brittany work.

Her gaze is soft, penetrating and Santana can't help but feel nervous under it. The light touches are back, Santana feels fragile and vulnerable and Brittany is taking such good care of her she might start crying again. The voices are gone and Santana feels how her lungs start working properly again. She can breathe.

Her dress drops to the ground, pooling at her ankles and she is still holding Brittany's gaze. Santana gulps at the intensity of it and then she steps even closer to Brittany, fiddling with the buttons of her jeans. She doesn't think that it was Brittany's intention to get undressed as well but Santana doesn't want to be the only one bare in here.

And she also doesn't know why Brittany has such an effect on her. She barely knows her, after all she barely talks to her when she is around- which lately has happened a lot- but she can't help but want to keep her around because when Brittany is there Santana doesn't feel as helpless and broken as she does when she is alone. When Brittany is there quietness feels like quietness. It is not filled with the screaming of voices in her head. And if she is being honest she doesn't want to keep thinking about it. That's what she likes the most about having Brittany around. She doesn't have to think so hard.

When Brittany has slipped out of her jeans Santana reaches for the buttons on Brittany's light blue flannel shirt. She unbuttons it, one by one without breaking eye contact and when she has reached the last one she slips it off Brittany's shoulders until they are both standing just in underwear.

Kurt's soft tapping against the door remains ignored until he stops and the only sound in the bathroom is the water filling the tub. Santana's eyes move down, over Brittany's exposed stomach and over her lingerie, the blue fabric clinging perfectly to her body and Santana is one hundred percent sure that she has an angel standing in front of her.

Brittany takes the final step and closes the gap between them. Their bodies are flush together and Santana shivers at the warmth that Brittany's body provides. She feels Brittany's face inches apart, their lips so close but not quite touching. They're breathing the same air and Santana waits on it but Brittany doesn't kiss her. She tries to push the disappointment back but it still floods right through her.

"Will you kiss me?" She asks and it's the first verbal thing she has said to Brittany. Sure when Brittany is around she nods or shakes her head but she has never actually said anything to her. There is a tiny smile pulling at Brittany's lips, small and sad but despite that she shakes her head.

"Not like this." She answers and Santana nods understandingly. She wouldn't want to kiss Brittany either if she was drunk and high. She swallows again hardly, feeling fingers trace up her spine and then her bra loosens around her and Brittany slides the straps down until it joins the rest of their clothes on the floor. Santana repeats the movement and when they have finally stripped completely, Brittany turns off the water in the bathtub and helps Santana who is still not able to stand up straight without help into it.

She doesn't climb into the tub until Santana tugs at her hand and makes room for her to settle in behind her. Santana doesn't remember a time where she has been naked with a girl that she hasn't had sex with and this new sensation of having Brittany so close to her, not only physically but somehow emotionally as well, makes her want to cry again. It's overwhelming but so relaxing that Santana believes for the first time that she might have the chance to fix things.

Brittany's hands find Santana's and she laces their fingers together as she lifts them on the edge of the bathtub to relax back. There is so much skin, so many parts on Brittany's body that she wants to admire and she can't. But she takes what she can get. Having Brittany against her is already more than she has ever expected. And it gets even better when Brittany starts massaging shampoo into her hair. She already has difficulties with trying to keep her eyes open but this is making it even harder.

Santana doesn't know how long they are locked in the bathroom but it feels like they have been locked in their own little world when her head finally hits her pillow. Brittany helps her into comfortable clothes and Santana finally feels the effects of hours of drinking and the drugs she took, the exhaustion that has been lingering in her body. It is weighing her down, as though her veins have been filled with led.

Brittany hovers around her and gets dressed, ready to leave but Santana doesn't want her to. So she reaches for Brittany's hand, whispering a quiet 'stay'. Brittany looks down at her, she is barely able to make out her form above her because of the darkness but she is sure that Brittany is nodding.

The mattress dips beside her and seconds later she feels Brittany's body next to hers. For a moment they just stare at each other and Santana feels the heaviness lingering between them, the elephant in the room that no one addresses. And when she finally can't bear Brittany looking at her like that she turns around and shuffles close to Brittany until she feels her arm wrap around her.

Santana sighs contently at the warmth and at the feeling of Brittany being pressed up against her. It's comfortable and it feels better than any drug haze she has ever had.

"Will you kiss me someday?" Santana whispers when Brittany has settled behind her. She slips her fingers through Brittany's, pulling the up to her chest as she waits for Brittany's answer. She can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears, Brittany's answer is more important than she wants to admit and waiting on it is making her anxious.

"Someday." Brittany replies and Santana feels her breath ghost against her neck where she feels Brittany's lips press against her skin. It might not be the kiss that she wants but it doesn't make it less meaningful and Santana closes her eyes, letting sleep take over.