Title – Tragic Silence
Summary: Because at the end of the day it's her own actions that have caused her best friend to cry, her own insecurities that make loving Brittany the most beautifully tragic thing she's ever done.
Disclaimer: Not mine. I own nothing. I just like to write about it, yeah.
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Santana's fingers dance gently over soft, pale skin. Tracing the sun light that spills into the small bathroom and across Brittany's tear stained cheeks, a careful thumb wipes the moister with patience and understanding. Her own eyes dark but friendly; a concern rarely seen washing over tanned features as Brittany looks at her with an almost pleading gaze, striking blue clash with tender brown and Santana's hands clutch at soft cheeks. She pulls Brittany forward, a small, almost trembling kiss landing on the sad girl's lips. It's a gesture of love that Santana can't always say out loud. But one she means none-the-less.
When she pulls back Brittany eyes are flooding with fresh tears, pink lips shaking, and slender fingers twitching to move. Santana loves everything about Brittany. Even when the girl is sad she's still beautiful, even when she's sitting in the schools toilets on the ground, she's perfect.
"I'm not going anywhere," Santana states softly. Words whispered so only Brittany could ever hear them. "I'm sorry…" She adds.
Brittany nods and tears run swiftly down flushed cheeks, Santana's quick to wipe them away. Quick to make them disappear. She shifts so that she's sitting next to the blonde, her back against the cold wall, and the sunlight painting her own flesh. She wraps a protective arm around Brittany's shoulders, pulling her closer, silently begging for forgiveness. Because at the end of the day it's her own actions that have caused her best friend to cry, her own insecurities that make loving Brittany the most beautifully tragic thing she's ever done.
"I'm sorry, Britt." She says again. Maybe, she thinks, she'll be saying it forever. She hopes not. "You know that right?" She demands. Harsher than what she wants too.
Brittany's head rests against her shoulder a moment later, her knees still pulled to her chest, and she nods. "I know."
Santana hates that Brittany sounds so hopeful, she's also thankful, because it means another chance. Another chance she'll probably screw up. But Brittany always waits, always reaches for her, guides her closer. Santana sometimes thinks she would be lost without Brittany. Sweet, caring, innocent, Brittany. Her friend. Lover. Something more, and in reality nothing less. She thinks Brittany would be lost too. For as much as Santana pushes her away, she's also poised and ready to catch Brittany if she falls, if by some accident her pushes are too hard or too blinded against the blonde…she's there…rectifying her mistake with soothing caresses and whispered apologies. Over and over.
"You love me, B?" She asks after the silence becomes scary. After Brittany's legs are stretched in front of her and Santana's own are crossed comfortably. She asks with trepidation and a soft exhale that feels heavier than it probably should.
Brittany nods again, her head shifting against Santana's shoulder lightly. "Always." She softly mutters.
It's all Santana needs to breathe easier and she smiles against the lump in her throat, against her own declaration of love that wants to rip from her throat. It tastes sweet. Like honey she thinks. The words that say I love Brittany late at night, the same words that coat her mouth just about every second. I love Brittany. I love Brittany. Brittany. Brittany. Brittany.
She thinks of nothing else. But instead of saying it herself, she makes Brittany say it.
"Tell me," She rasps around the 'I love you's' in her throat. Her nails dig into Brittany's shoulder almost pleadingly. "Say the words."
Brittany swallows and places her pale hand over Santana's thigh, short nails reflect the sunlight, and then she lifts her head. "I love you." She whispers simply. Nothing complicated. It never is with Brittany.
Santana stares into the blue depths of Brittany's eyes searchingly before leaning closer, a soft kiss landing on Brittany's lips. Desperate in the only sense she can't say the words herself. She hopes Brittany knows from the kiss that she's silently saying it back. With a soft smile Brittany rests her head back on Santana's shoulder and for what feels like hours they sit in the bathroom, on the floor, whispering apologies and promises and hushed reassurances to each other. Tentative kisses replace earlier tears. Soft touches fight away confusion and Santana holds onto the feeling of Brittany's body pressed against hers, of Brittany's hesitant mouse kisses and shy smiles, soft blue eyes that trust too much but less than before.
She holds onto the feeling of Brittany's fingertips tracing invisible patterns over her thigh, writing letters that spell a thousand secrets out to Santana, and yet telling her nothing at the same time. She holds onto the reminder that when she kisses Brittany her stomach is filled with a warmth that spreads throughout every cell in her body. Igniting a fire seemingly within her heart. One that even the blue depths of Brittany's eyes can't put out.
When Quinn eventually finds them for Cheerio's practice Santana's walls are back up, brown eyes guarded while blue eyes stare back longingly, and hazel ones watch the exchange silently. Neither Santana nor Brittany say anything about sitting together on the ground, but then again, Quinn doesn't either. It's silent. Like Santana's unsaid 'I love you's'.
Silence has never been so deafening.
I love Brittany.
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