It's been two months since you told Brittany that you love her, and you're kind of getting back to normal. But as hard as you try, you just can't let it go. You love her, you need her, you want her, and you can't forget that. You can't just switch your feelings off.
That's why you're avoiding her, and that's why you're in the last place you know she'd look for you. The studio where she dances. That's her quiet place, not yours. She'll check your house, Breadstix, that tree in the park you used to climb, everywhere before she checks here.
It's nice. Just being alone for a while, but still feeling like she's there with you. There are chairs and benches around the room but you opt to sit on the ground and lean against the wall, even though it's the least comfortable option. You don't really feel like you deserve to be comfortable right now. If you can't be comfortable with holding Brittany's hand in public, why should you be comfortable with anything else?
Your sit for ten minutes, fifteen, twenty. Then you hear someone moving, and immediately you pull your legs to your chest in an attempt to hide. There shouldn't be anyone else here. Half of you hopes it's her and the other half desperately hopes that it isn't.
You don't dare breathe, that is, until you see who it is. And then you have no choice because when you recognize them, you're left breathless.
Scrambling unsteadily to your feet, you wipe the tears from your eyes that had been just waiting to escape. Instead, you focus all your energy on wondering how the hell this can be happening. A few more steps and you know you aren't mistaken.
The little girl you're looking at - dressed in full ballet gear - is you. Not you as you are now. But seven year old you. It's reflex, but you can't help but smile.
"Hey," you whisper, trying not to startle her. "Santana, right?"
She stares at you and nods confidently. "You're me, aren't you?" she asks. "I mean, in the future." She studies you from head to toe. It would normally make you uneasy when someone looks at you like this, but it doesn't now. You don't have anything to be scared of. Or maybe you do. Maybe you should be terrified, because you aren't sure if you want the young you to see how you turn out. She shouldn't have to go through this.
"Yeah," you reply. "Yeah, I am. Kind of freaky, huh?"
"I turned out to be really pretty," she says, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and well really you wouldn't be you if you didn't automatically notice how well you turned out. You let her admire you for a second or two longer, and then you realize that in five years time she's going to start hating her body. In seven years time she's going to hate looking in the mirror. In eight years time, she's going to start sleeping with every guy in the football team to try and help find some sort of comfort. She's going to crave the satisfaction of others because she's not going to be satisfied with herself. You look at this kid in front of you and you can't believe that you put her through that. If you could go back and do it all again, you'd try whatever you could to make sure she doesn't feel that way. It makes you think that maybe you should be a little less hard on yourself all the time.
"Yeah, I suppose you did," you smile back at her.
"So... what's wrong?" she asks out of the blue, and it startles you.
"What's... What do you mean 'what's wrong?'"
"You don't get to meet future you unless they're struggling with something," she says, matter of fact. "That's the rules. That's why I'm here."
That leaves you speechless. There's no way you can burden this kid with the weight of the things you're feeling right now. She's far too innocent for that. It wouldn't be right. You take a step away from her and walk back towards where you were sitting before. "You don't want to know," you tell her as you sit back down.
She follows you and just looks at you. "I do," she says, and you can tell that she actually really does. She sits down beside you and just looks at you. It's strange, because you can't remember yourself ever being so calm or caring. You can't remember that softness in your eyes or your voice. It's been a long time since you heard it. The only time you ever get close is when you're with...
"Brittany," you say quietly. "It's Brittany."
Young you spins round where she's sitting and claps her hands together, completely overjoyed. "We're still friends!?" she asks excitedly and you can't help but laugh at how happy she is to find out this information. "Yeah, she's been your best friend for like... fifteen years now," you say proudly. The smile on your face as you recall that piece of information is genuine. Even if everything else is completely messed up right now, you still have that.
"So why are you sad?" she asks, and you really don't know how to explain this to her. You can't remember how much you knew about relationships or about gay people when you were a kid. You can't remember if you'd even met someone gay before.
You steady yourself, take a deep breath, then turn to her and look her right in the eye. "I love her."
She scoffs, and it wasn't really the reaction you were hoping for. "Well, duh."
"I don't think you understand. I'm in love with her," you clarify.
She looks at you in complete confusion. "And why does that make you sad?"
There's a question you really don't know how to answer. Because it's not the being in love with her that makes you sad. Being in love with her is the greatest thing you've ever experienced. You love everything about her. It's everything else that's weighing you down. It's your parents, your friends, everyone in school, everyone everywhere. It's the crippling fear that no-one is going to love you if you let everyone see your true colors that's really bringing you down. But how do you explain that to a seven year old?
"I guess... I'm sad because I want to be with her. Y'know, like, how mom and dad are together. But not everyone thinks that we should be allowed to be and I'm scared of losing her." With those words, you're left speechless, because until you said that out loud you hadn't realized that's the thing you're really scared of. "I'm scared of losing her," you repeat, mostly to yourself.
"I don't think you're going to lose Brittany because you love her," young you tries to reassure you.
"What if I do though?" you ask. "What if I get over this whole thing and we give it a go? What if a few months down the line I mess it up and we end up breaking up and I lose her? What if we get together and people don't like it and she can't take it and I lose her?"
"But what if you get together and she loves you and you get to keep her forever though?"
"Things don't always happen like they do in fairy-tales."
"Sometimes they do, though. Shouldn't you at least give it a go?"
You know she's right. Brittany's worth it, she's worth trying for. Even if it's absolutely terrifying and there's a risk you could lose her, she's worth it. There's a risk that you could lose her even if you don't give things a chance, so you know that's what you have to do.
"It doesn't bother you that I'm - we're - you're - in love with Brittany?" you stutter out.
"No," she says, sounding more like a question than a statement. "I love Brittany now, so I'm glad I still love her in the future. She's my best everything," she says with pride, and you can't help but let a few tears escape at that. You're just so overcome with happiness that you've been privileged enough to love Brittany for pretty much your whole life and you want more than anything to spend the rest of your life feeling the same. Just as you start to properly cry and really let it out, young you gets up and starts walking away. You wipe the tears away quickly and get up to follow her.
"Hey," you shout out. "Hey! Where are you going?" You stop and stand still, wiping the last few tears from your eyes.
"I have to go home," she says.
"Can I at least say goodbye?" you ask.
She nods and walks toward you. When she's close enough she wraps her arms around you and hugs you tightly. You place a hand on her head reassuringly. "You're gonna be okay, yeah? I'll make sure you are, I promise," you tell her. She's just about to let go when you hear a noise and you look up across the room and you see the only person you need right now.
Brittany's there, and you didn't think she'd find you, and maybe she wasn't even looking for you, but she's here and that's all that matters. You look down to send the younger you on her way but she's already gone. You look around for any traces that she existed but can see nothing. Any other time, any other place, you'd be freaking out right now, but you're not because there's only one thing you want to focus on right now.
"Santana?" Brittany questions. "Why are you here?" she asks hesitantly.
You purposely don't answer her question. Instead, you let the smile break slowly across your face as you close the distance between you. You take everything about her in and you get closer, and God, you are so in love with this girl. You stop an arms width away from her, saying nothing.
"Santana, what's going on?"
With a softness you haven't heard in your voice in years, you whisper "I love you," and watch as something registers in Brittany's mind knowing that you've decided that things are going to be different. She knows that something's changed, and it's so subtle, but you can see the absolute relief and happiness on her face and in her eyes, even though she's hardly moved. "I love you," you say again, louder. You close the last piece of distance between you both and kiss her. It takes her a moment to kiss you back, but when she does you swear it's the greatest feeling in the entire world. You never want this to end, because you've never experienced something so perfect before.
But too soon, Brittany pulls away. She keeps her eyes closed, and her forehead against your own, just as breathless as you are.
"I love you," she says, and you fully relax for the first time in your life as you realize that maybe things really are going to be okay.
Twenty-five years from now, you're going to have to go to meet forty-three year old you. You're going to have to make her realize that the stresses of being married for twenty years, and the pressure of having three kids aren't enough to make you forget how much you love your wife, Brittany. You're going to remind her of this moment and you're going to remember why you married Brittany all those years ago, and that yes, sometimes things do happen like they do in fairy-tales.