The Piano Man
By: SometimesIWish
Brad knows more about each member of the New Directions than he wants to know, more than he's willing to admit. Most of them treat him like another instrument, another unmoving, unfeeling piece of furniture that can't understand them. Sometimes he can't, but most of the time, his ears are working all too well, as are his eyes, and he is subjected to conversations he would rather not have heard. Ever.
For example, he was subject to the last parting conversation between Rachel and her mother, which was more heartbreaking than it should have been considering it was the first time they had seen each other since Rachel's birth. And, of course, afterwards, he had been subjected to playing the piano for Rachel for almost three straight hours so she could therapeutically sing herself out of her depression.
And then there was the time that Mercedes came into the choir room crying because she was feeling insecure about her body image and had just thrown up in the girls' bathroom. Kurt had come in, asked her what was wrong, and it had all come pouring out.
Then there was Sam's dabbling in homosexual relationships with Kurt, an altogether too tear-filled talk between Finn and Puck after the discovery of the true father of Quinn's baby, Artie and Tina's breakup, Mike and Tina fighting altogether too much, and the many flops of Will Schuester's relationships. Way. Too. Much. Drama.
But the one person he knew the most about was Santana Lopez.
It was unexpected because, throughout her first year of the glee club, she had always snapped at him to leave the choir room when she brought Brittany there during classes and had altogether ignored him at all other times.
But at the beginning of her junior year, she changed. It was a slow change, one that only Brad, and maybe Brittany, was able to see. She became bitchier, but behind the attitude was a growing vulnerability, and her shell was starting to crack.
The first crack appeared after the duets competition. Brad had watched, and played for, every single duet and witnessed the awarding of the esteemed Breadsticks coupons. He had seen the angry look on Santana's face, but he had also seen the sorrow shining all too dully in her eyes as she glanced at Brittany before trying to go after the coupons.
That was the first time she had really talked to him.
"Why do you never talk?"
Brad looked up from his music to see Santana sitting in her usual seat in the back row. She had her arms wrapped around her stomach, as if there was a piece of her missing and if she let herself go, she was scatter in a million different directions. From the way she was sitting, he would have never guessed she had been the one who had asked him that question if there had been anyone else in the room.
"I mean, you are the piano player. Shouldn't you have a say in what music we sing and stuff?"
He shrugged. "I get paid to play music, not to make my opinion known."
"I bet you know a lot of stuff about the glee club, huh?"
Again, he shrugged.
"Can I… can I ask you something?"
He sighed. It didn't really seem like he had a choice. So he nodded, stopped shuffling around the music sheets, and turned to face her.
"You don't have to listen if you don't want to."
Santana still had her eyes focused on the floor and, for a moment, Brad didn't recognize her. She wasn't the same confident, domineering Cheerio who tossed her hair over her shoulder in superiority and looked down on everyone else in the glee club.
"No, I want to listen."
She looked up at him disbelievingly and he gave her an encouraging smile. Biting her lip, she once again focused her gaze on the floor.
"Have you ever been in love?"
Smiling, he nodded. "A long, long time ago."
"What… what does it feel like? To be in love?"
Sighing, he scrunched his eyebrows together, trying to think of a way to explain it to her. "How much do you know about music?"
Santana shrugged. "A lot, I guess. I play guitar, piano, write my own music…."
"Perfect!" he exclaimed. "At first, it's like… it's like that feeling you get when you finish writing your first song. You know it isn't perfect, but you put everything you have into it and, no matter what anyone else says, you wouldn't change it for the world. Then it slowly morphs into something else. A song you love or a piece you play constantly. Familiar, comfortable, and your go-to when you're down or upset."
She was quiet for a moment.
"What if you feel like… like you can't breathe when you're around this person?" she asked slowly. "And all you want to do is admire them, but you can't because everyone else would think it wasn't right and they would make fun of you and everything would be ruined."
Brad chuckled and she looked up, eyes flashing in anger. He held his hands up in surrender, still chuckling as he shook his head.
"Look, if you really love this person, then just tell them. You're missing out on something just because you're afraid of what other people might think of you."
Her eyes flashed. "Image is everything in high school."
"Perhaps… but are you willing to miss out on what could be the most important thing in your life simply to please other people?"
Santana was one of the few people in the school he really came to like. While she wasn't exactly friendly to him, she wasn't rude to him, either. She wouldn't go out of her way to do nice things for him, but then again, she wouldn't demand that he play five hours straight so she could rehearse for Sectionals. (He really wasn't that fond of Rachel Berry.)
After that first time they talked, Brad began to watch Santana more closely than the other glee kids. He saw how she reacted when Brittany started dating Artie, how her relationship with Sam progressed, and how she seemed to get more and more miserable with every passing day.
"What are you doing to yourself?"
Santana looked up from her slushy with a perturbed expression on her face. "What the hell are you talking about, Brad?" she asked irritably. After months of talking to each other, Brad became Santana's go-to-guy when she was in a time of trouble… which was basically every day.
"I mean, you're obviously in love with her. Why don't you just tell her?"
The Latina stiffened, her eyes widening in fright. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."
"And here we go again," he muttered under his breath.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that you're completely miserable," he said, crossing an ankle over his knee. "I mean, look at yourself. You mope around all the time, barely even talk to your so-called boyfriend, and stare at Brittany all class like she's a missing part of you. Obviously there's something going on."
Her eyes narrowed and she gave him a menacing look, but he had long since become immune to her bitch glares. He continued more gently.
"Santana, you aren't happy."
"Yeah, well, no one else seems to care, do they?" And she stormed out of the room.
That wasn't the first time Santana had gotten so angry at him that she had stormed out of the choir room. In fact, it wasn't completely unusual and happened on a day-to-day basis. But it was the first time she didn't come back. She would walk into the choir room after everyone else had already entered and would leave before everyone else even stood up from their chairs, leaving Brad staring after her hopelessly and longingly.
Because he needs her just as much as she needs him. She needs him for the advice and the comfort and the reassurance, and he needs her for… well, because he doesn't really have anyone else. So when she refuses to stay after for a week, he starts to get lonely and realizes how empty his life was before she had started that first conversation with him.
So when she starts talking to him again, he decides to tell her.
"Hey," Santana says as she closed the choir room door.
Brad just sat at the piano, his hands resting on the ivory keys. He couldn't see her, but he could hear her footsteps, heels clacking loudly against the tiled floor. She sighed loudly and collapsed in a chair.
"Okay, I'm sorry for ignoring you. Are you happy now that you've gotten an apology out of me?"
"No, I'm not, because you're ruining your life."
He could feel Santana's incredulous stare.
"I know you don't mean to, but I want… I want you to just listen, because I did the exact same thing you're doing to yourself, and look where that's gotten me."
Brad turned to face Santana, who was already opening up her mouth to protest, but he shook his head and continued.
"When I was twenty-two, I met the most gorgeous girl in the world. Her name was Leann." He sighed wistfully and closed his eyes. "She was absolutely beautiful and smart and talented and I was so extremely lucky to have her. Leann understood me like no one else every had. She knew what to do when I was upset, how to cheer me up, and when to just leave me alone.
"We were so happy together. She was finishing up graduate school and I was working part-time as a bartender and writing music during the day. We were getting along just fine, living in an apartment in Los Angeles and planning to move to New York after she was finished with school."
He opened his eyes and looked at Santana, begging her to understand.
"In the last couple months of her finishing up school, I started to convince myself that I would be able to write better music if I could just be by myself. I thought that Leann was holding me back and began to spend more time away from her, alienating her. She confronted me about it and we had an argument. I packed my things and left. A couple weeks later I went back to our apartment to apologize, but she had already graduate, moved to New York, and there was someone else living there. He said she had left a note for me just in case I had come back.
"Don't you understand, Santana? You're sacrificing something special for a couple years of not being bullied. I know that you're afraid, but you have so much more to gain than you have to lose if you tell her that you love her. I don't want you to make the same mistake I did."
Santana nodded, blinking back tears. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Just… make everything right, Santana."
She nodded again and stood up before slowly walking over to the door. As she placed her hand on the doorknob, she turned back to Brad.
"What did the note say?"
He shrugged. "I can't remember."
The Latina looked like she didn't believe him, but she didn't bug him about it. She turned the doorknob and opened the door, pausing for a moment after she stepped into the hallway. Santana turned her head just barely, only just so he could hear her.
"You know, if she's anything like Brittany… she's probably waiting for you."
Then she walked out of the room.
Brad waited until her footsteps had faded to pull out the worn envelope from his back pocket, to slip the crinkled piece of paper out of its sleeve, to read the worn words over for the hundredth time. Maybe she was still waiting. And he once again glanced over the eleven numbers printed neatly at the bottom of the page.
After their talk, Brad thought a lot about not only what he had told Santana, but that last comment Santana had thrown over her shoulder as she left the choir room. Leann had left her phone number for him and, even though it had been a couple decades since he had last seen her, he was tempted to type those numbers into his phone and see if she would still talk to him.
He's about to walk into the choir room, but he hears the voices coming through the slightly open door and pauses just in case it's another conversation he doesn't want to be subjected to. As he listens, he recognizes the voices and peers through the crack, feeling a bit like a creep but knowing Santana would understand if she saw him.
"…and he came into my cooking class and sang to me instead of just talking to ask me to prom."
Brad can hear the hesitation and dread lacing Santana's voice when she speaks.
"And what did you say?"
There's a moment of silence before Brittany answers.
"I told him I wasn't sure and that I would get back to him."
Brittany's back is facing him and Santana is facing Brittany, so he can see every expression on her face. Her normally tough exterior cracks, then shatters as her face contorts into one of pain and she drops her head into her hands. She begins to cry and shakes off Brittany's hand as she attempts to comfort her.
"Please don't cry, San. It makes me sad."
"I don't deserve you," Santana sobs, lifting her face from her hands to reveal tears streaming down her cheeks. "I don't deserve anything from you. All I've been to you is a needy bitch who expects you to do whatever I tell you to, and all this time, all you've ever wanted is for someone to love you. You've wanted me to love you. And I got angry when Artie came along and provided that for you."
"Santana, it isn't…."
"But it is my fault," the Latina cried, her eyes begging for Brittany to understand her. "And if it had been anyone else, anyone other than you, I wouldn't have a best friend right now. But you've waited and you've hung on and you've been here for me the whole time even though I've yelled at you so many times to just go away and leave me alone."
Brittany is quiet, watching Santana intently as she tries to explain.
"And now I'm wondering if it's too late because I've treated you like crap even though you're the most important person in my life. Because every time I'm around you, my heart beats so hard that I'm afraid I'm having a heart attack. Because sometimes my eyes linger just a bit too long when you walk out of the room and I wonder if anyone caught me staring. Because you have the biggest heart in the world and I can't see you ever loving a bitch like me."
"But I do," Brittany whispers.
Another sob escapes Santana and her shoulders quiver. She stares down at her feet as she speaks. "I know," she murmurs. "And I love you, too. But I was so afraid… I was afraid I was going to have to go through this alone and I didn't realize… I didn't realize that you would be going through the exact same thing with me. Because I can't do this alone, Britt. I can't do this without you because I'm so afraid. I'm afraid of being by myself."
That's when Brad starts to feel guilty about listening in, and it's the first time he feels guilty about a conversation he's heard from the glee club because this time it's his fault. So he slowly backs away as Brittany wraps her arms around Santana and hugs her close to his chest, and he's kind of glad he can't hear her murmured words as she rocks the Latina back and forth.
As he walks down the hall, he pulls out his phone, flips it open, and dials the eleven numbers he's had memorized for the past twenty-two years.
Brad hears the whispers in the hallways just as loudly as he hears the hushed conversations in the choir room. Something is going on, and all of McKinley is buzzing, wondering what it is. Somehow, Santana has stopped the bullying.
There are no more hateful words screamed in the hallways when a freshman accidentally bumps in to her, no more hissed rumors when a jock trips her on the way to class, and not a single slushy is thrown at Rachel Berry between third and fourth block. Someone has tamed the beast, and the students of McKinley want to know who.
He suspects because he's seen the things that the rest of McKinley hasn't. The hidden glances, the lingering touches, and the lips just barely brushing the shell of an ear as whispered words are shared. And he's also heard part of a conversation he shouldn't have. So when Santana and Brittany stay after school a couple weeks later, he already halfway-knows what they're going to tell him.
Brittany smiled sweetly at Brad as Santana closed the door after Rachel, murmuring something to the short brunette before the door clicked shut. Brad suspected it was a thinly veiled threat, but he didn't really know. It had been a while since he had talked to Santana because she was always leaving with Brittany after glee. And he didn't really blame her.
"So Santana shares her secrets with you, too?" Brittany asked brightly as she rocked back and forth on her heels, her hands clasped in front of her like a small child.
"Not exactly," Santana said as she walked over to Brittany and wrapped her arms around the blonde's waist. A soft kiss landed on Brittany's cheek and the blonde's already-wide smile grew even larger. "He listens to me when I don't really feel comfortable talking to anyone else."
The blonde's expression dampened for a moment, but Santana pressed another soothing kiss to her cheek and her grin once again widened to its original state. Brad couldn't help but smile back, already liking Brittany even though he had barely even spoken a sentence to her in his life.
"He's the one who told me to get my head out of my ass and go after my girl," Santana continued, a red stain spreading across her cheeks.
Brad smiled at her and she ducked her head, pressing her forehead against Brittany's shoulder so he couldn't see her embarrassed expression.
"It's no problem, Santana," he said warmly.
"I just… I wanted to make sure I did the same thing for you," Santana said, lifting her head again to meet his eyes. He shifted uncomfortably on the piano bench because she looked like she knew too much. "Because it isn't fair that I'm the only one who gets the girl."
"But San," Brittany interrupted, a confused look on her face. "I thought you said we weren't going to have sex with anyone else?"
"Britt, I was talking about his girl."
Brittany's eyes widened with realization and she looked at Brad excitedly. "You should totally buy her flowers!" she squealed. "That's what San did for me! She bought me white roses 'cause white is my favorite color and roses are my favorite flower and she took me out to my favorite restaurant and then to the movies and to the park to see the ducks!"
"It isn't quite that simple," he murmured.
Santana's eyes bored into his. "But maybe it is."
There was a moment of silence before a loud knock startled them all.
"That'll be Rachel," Santana sighed, rolling her eyes. "I promised her we would go shopping after school today with her and Kurt and Mercedes. Is that okay, Britt?"
"I like Rachel," Brittany chirped cheerily, pulling out of Santana's grasp and skipping toward the door. Santana watched her go affectionately before turning her gaze back to Brad.
"I just wanted to thank you before I forgot," she murmured. Her eyes stared into his meaningfully before she strode over to Brittany and laced her fingers with the blonde's. Brittany pressed a short kiss to Santana's lips before opening the door and pulling Santana out of the choir room.
After months of talking with Santana, Brad found out a lot of things. He discovered that the school food can be specially made, especially if the lunch ladies think you have some information about them that they would rather not get back to Principal Figgins. He found out that even the bitchiest girls have a heart. And he learned that he absolutely loved New York City. Especially when he was enjoying it with the girl he loved.
"Guys, I have good news and bad news," Mr. Schuester announced at the beginning of glee club practice. "What do you guys want to hear first?"
"Bad news!" Puck yelled. There was a murmur of agreement and Mr. Schuester sighed.
"Unfortunately, we are losing Brad," he said, making a sweeping gesture toward the man sitting at the piano player. "But the good news is that he's still going to be able to play for us at Nationals because he's moving to New York City to get married!"
There was clapping and whistling and yells of congratulations as the glee club gathered around the piano to congratulate Brad. Santana and Brittany stood at the back of the group, both of them smiling knowingly at him, and he just shook his head at them and smiled, mouthing a 'Thank you' to Santana.
"And, best of all, he would like us to sing at his wedding!" Mr. Schuester announced. "So everyone had better get cracking because this is excellent practice for Nationals! Choose a song and perform it, preferably without Brad because he won't be playing the piano at his own wedding. Whoever's song Brad likes the most will be featured at his wedding."
There was a scramble as people pushed through the crowd of glee clubbers to find a friend and start discussing the competition, and Santana and Brittany were able to squeeze their way to Brad.
"Congratulations!" Brittany squealed, clapping her hands before swooping down and pressing a kiss to Brad's cheek. She didn't notice the blush spreading across his face or the joking scowl fixed on Santana's.
"You know, you'd better pick our song because we're the ones who helped you get your girl," Santana growled threateningly, a joking glint in her eye. "And I'd better receive a handwritten invitation in the mail, as well."
"I thought it'd be better in person."
He handed a white envelope to Santana and she took it with a shaking hand, barely able to break open the seal. Her eyes pooled with tears as she read the invitation and, before he knew it, she had her arms wrapped around his neck and was hugging him to death.
"Thank you," she whispered in his ear.
Brad smiled as she wrapped his arms around the Latina. "No, thank you."
Brad knows more about each member of the New Directions than he wants to know, more than he's willing to admit. But he also knows things about the New Directions that he's willing to take advantage of, like the fact that they're more than willing to sing at his wedding for free. And that the girls love to plan weddings, even though its over the phone with a woman they don't even know in New York City.
But the one person he knows the most about was Santana Lopez.
For example, she doesn't care as much about her popularity as everyone at McKinley believes. She's willing to take a slushy or two to the face for someone she loved. The person she is in absolute love with just happens to be a girl named Brittany S. Pierce. And she's the best semi-daughter a man could ever ask for.
Sure, Brad knows more about the New Directions than he's willing to admit, but he would rather know all their secrets than never know them at all.