a/n: originally meant to be a oneshot, but will be a short multichapter.
Santana doesn't remember much of the night Brittany died. She remembers parts of it, of course-receiving the phone call from Brittany's mother, fighting with the hospital staff because they refused to let her see Brittany, the Glee Club holding her back when the doctor told them the news.
She doesn't remember much of what happened after it either. All she remembers if feeling numb, before she started to feel the pain. She doesn't remember the funeral, or how she acted, or anything else. She just remembers the pain that came after the numbness. It was almost as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest-it was possible, after all. Brittany was her everything, her other half, her best friend, her lover, her soulmate. Brittany was a part of her, a very important part at that. And Santana couldn't go on without her.
But she had to. She couldn't just disappear off the face of the earth, even if she wanted to. Because she did want to. She wanted to die if it meant being reunited with Brittany. She needed Brittany. Brittany was her lifeline, and without her-
She paused, swallowing the metallic taste of blood. She had cut her lip, again. It had happened a lot lately-marks spread across her lips, as if they were a very poor substitute for Brittany. Then again, anything that almost became a part of her was a poor substitute for Brittany. Quinn, Puck-everyone.
She shifted in front of the mirror, almost feeling the presence beside her. For the past five years, Brittany would always prepare for school with her. Every day since seventh grade, Brittany had stood beside her, beaming at Santana in that way and adjusting her patterned tops, and later, her cheerleading uniform. Every day since seventh grade they had entered school, pinkies linked and glances reserved only for each other. It had always been Brittany and Santana, Santana and Brittany. And Santana had liked it that way.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Santana blinked back tears that weren't even there. They would be, but she had cried so much the past few weeks, Santana assumed she had run herself dry. She didn't want to go to school, didn't want to put up with everyone without Brittany beside her. But Santana knew Brittany would've made her go, and Santana wanted to keep her best friend happy, no matter what.
Almost as if Brittany was there beside her, talking about ducks and laughing, Santana felt the warmth that used to emit from the blonde. And then, almost as if Brittany was beside her, several words were spoken.
Go on, Sanny. You can do it. I believe in you.
Santana snapped around, reading to kill the person who tricked her or, in the less believable situation, throw herself into Brittany's arms. But nobody was there. Santana blinked several times, before shaking her head. Losing Brittany had made her insane.
It wasn't like she needed another downside.
...
By lunchtime, Santana had already dished out three black eyes. The first one was needed-the guy, who Santana decided was a bigger asshole than Karofsky and Azimio combined-remarked that he regretted he didn't get to tap the 'hot dumb blonde chick' (his words, not Santana's) before she died. Santana saw it that if she didn't punch the guy, it would be an insult to Brittany's memory. Even if the blonde had disapproved of Santana being so violent.
The second one was a mistake. She had overhead a girl talking about how she and her friend were sure to get on the Cheerios now that Brittany was gone, as Santana certainly wouldn't rejoin without the other girl. She had meant to hit the girl that made the comment, but instead hit her friend-though the first girl hadn't gotten off so easily. It was clear she wasn't going to make it on the Cheerios, not because of her black eye, but because there was no way Coach Sylvester would allow a girl who cried due to a punch on her award winning squad. Her own fucking fault, really.
Twice the amount of people had tried to talk to her. Mr Schuester had tried first, reassuring her that she would be okay, and Brittany wouldn't want her to suffer. Santana wasn't sure if she was going to be allowed to keep going to Glee Club after she called him 'an annoying pervert who needs to invest in more fucking clothes', but if she was completely honest, Santana couldn't be forced to care.
Mrs Pillsbury was less successful. Or, the way Santana saw it, was less successful at dealing with insults. Although it was more like the truth. Santana didn't want her help, and so help her if she had lashed out. She was avoiding talking to everyone for a reason. Not so they could talk to her. She didn't want anyone's pity, didn't want their help. She wanted Brittany.
The only one who really got anywhere was Puck. Despite Quinn's warnings, he attempted to talk to her-tell her that Brittany wouldn't want her to be like this, that he was there for her, that it would get better. She had done everything she could to get rid of him, but it was pointless-Puck, despite everything, wouldn't take her shit, and instead give it to her straight. To Santana, it was a relief that someone remained the same, even if it was Puck.
Perhaps God was punishing her for everything she'd done. First taking away Brittany, and then Rachel Berry attempting to talk to her. For the first time in her life, Santana was beginning to regret being a sinner. It was her talk with Rachel, however, that she remembered more clearly than the others.
The other girl had seemed somewhat scared at first. Santana was used to people being afraid of her, but Rachel always stood her ground. This time though, she seemed terrified of the Latina.
Santana sighed, shutting her locker and leaning against her locker. She had been trying to get her code right for the past ten minutes, but she kept doing Brittany's-she had memorized the blonde's locker combination better than her own. Another thing to add to the list of Why Her Life Currently Sucked. Needless to say, she wasn't pleased to see Rachel Berry staring at her.
"Problem, Man Hands?" she demanded, ignoring the way her voice cracked. She narrowed her eyes, not only out of irritation, but in hopes it would somehow stop the tears falling.
"Despite the way you're glaring at me, I'm fine" Rachel replied, and Santana resited the urge to slap the girl. What she would give to have no problems like Rachel fucking Berry. The smaller girl paused for a moment before continuing "However, I am upset over the loss of Brittany. But it's quite obvious that you suffered the worst out everyone, because it's clear you saw Brittany as more than a friend. That, and Noah and Quinn informed me that you loved her." Seeing Santana open her mouth, Rachel quickly added "Only because they believe I can help you get over your loss."
Santana's eyes flashed, and she dug her nails in to her palms. She was going to kill Quinn and Puck for telling Rachel that she loved Brittany. She hated them for it. She hated everyone for everything because if they had been there like she couldn't be, Brittany would have survived. But they weren't there, and Santana hated them. But she hated herself more. Biting her tongue for a long hard moment, Santana flinched when she noticed Rachel take another step towards her.
"Why would Noah and Quinn know about how good you are at comforting people? You're not fucking Q, are you?" Shaking her head, Santana stepped away from Rachel "Whatever. I don't need your fucking help, Berry."
She spun around, and for a moment she swore she saw Brittany and heard the familiar voice tell her to Stop being mean to Rachel, San. Santana gripped the bag she ad been unable to dump in her locker tighter as she stared at the ghostly figure in front of her. It was Brittany. Brittany with her comforting smile and beautiful eyes and flowing hair and shimmering wings-
Santana blinked and the figure was gone, though Brittany's voice continued to ring in her eyes. Rachel's really nice. She swallowed, wiping at her eyes furiously. Maybe she did need Rachel's help. But she certainly didn't want it.