Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, its characters or any intellectual property.
Trained in the art of emulating human emotion on stage, Rachel and Kurt are not oblivious to Santana's sudden changes in demeanor. She has a tendency to suddenly still and go silent. She does it nearly every time they have a roommate wine night. Friday nights, they clear their schedules to spend the evening sipping pinot grigio (purchased with Santana's fake ID) like real adults and just talk. These talks cover a myriad of topics. It took four bottles of wine to help Rachel get over Brody when they broke up in the spring. It only took two to convince Kurt to take Blaine back. Santana and Brittany's strained post-break up attempt at friendship is never a topic of discussion.
It always happens the same way.
Initially, Santana speaks animatedly about the past week. She hostesses at a restaurant downtown and always shares something from her repertoire of stories of drunken celebrities and public fights. Even when the conversation shifts to Kurt or Rachel's assignments for NYADA, she still listens thoughtfully and provides suggestions when she can. As they drink more, she tends to loosen up a bit. She laughs and leaps about, partaking in their play-acting or impromptu dance numbers. If she's in a particularly good mood, she might even go so far as to sing with them (it does happen-every now and then). Those are the best parts of the evening, they agree.
Inevitably… there's a shift.
It starts when they're all considerably drunk. The conversation always ends up back in Lima. Santana usually joins in when they start to bring up their glory days in glee club. She is quick to relive times when Rachel sang something terrible ("Run Joey Run" is a favorite to bring up). She laughs at memories when Kurt's outfits failed miserably (she hates his Hippo broach with a passion). But then something will always remind her of Brittany- even when they don't say her name, or even delve into specifics. It's hard to talk about their high school days without acknowledging Santana's once ever-present other half.
That's when everything changes.
It is as if the entire mood of the evening shifts. The conversation stills and then altogether stops. Santana tucks her knees up to her chest and pours herself another drink. Curled into herself, she nurses her wine glass with a faraway look on her face. Her roommates share an awkward bout of eye contact and then scramble to change the subject to something else. But it's usually too late. Santana rarely reengages with them after they've brought up the past, and Lima, and the sentiments that remain there.
Santana usually just spends the remainder of the evening deep in thought until all the wine is gone. Sometimes she'll politely feign silent interest in their conversations, only shifting to pour herself more wine while they continue to practice theatricality or whatever else they're embroiled in. It goes unspoken, but they all know that the chemistry between them is different by that point. This routine always leads to the same end. While Kurt and Rachel know how to read nonverbal cues in body language, they also know Santana. They can always tell what she's thinking about when that melancholia creeps over her. The look on her face, the increased drinking, and the deep silence… it all points to one particular blue-eyed blonde.
In the six months they have been living together, her roommates have become keenly aware of the differences between seeing someone at school every day and living with that person. Santana is essentially the same girl they knew back in Lima, but nothing could have prepared them for the intricacies of her psyche. She used to interact with them employing a sense of detached annoyance in high school. This was the dominant side of Santana Lopez that they came to know. However, spending long, extending periods of time with her somehow yield a totally different person underneath her bitchy exterior. Her viciously cruel one-liners and rude comments have somehow evolved into a weird sort of lovable snarky affection for them. She would never admit to actually enjoying Rachel and Kurt's company, but she doesn't have to.
Constantly being around one another forces them all to remove the walls they've unconsciously constructed. All pretenses drop and the different aspects of each of their personalities emerge, for better or worse. Rachel loves New York wholeheartedly, but also misses her fathers. Kurt and Santana have both taken turns sitting with her when she's feeling homesick and watching Funny Girl. Before moving in, Santana wasn't sure that she had ever seen Rachel vulnerable. But instead of mocking this side of her roommate, Santana just makes sure that she brings Rachel her favorite dessert from the restaurant on her way home. More times than she can count, she's wrapped them both in a large blanket and shared the vegan apple tart with her sobbing friend. She wasn't even compelled to gag as they traded a single fork back and forth, watching Fanny Brice on screen.
Kurt, on the other hand, turns out to be a total bathroom hog. Santana and Rachel always suspected in high school that he took forever to get ready. What they didn't anticipate was his insanely rigorous schedule of hygienic pursuits. Daily, Kurt wakes up two hours earlier than necessary so he can groom himself without interruption. There have been a multitude of times that Santana has missed her subway train because she couldn't get into the bathroom due to Kurt's extensive routine.
In turn, Santana's unexpected emotional softening has transformed her into a kinder version of the girl Kurt and Rachel knew at McKinley High. While not entirely compassionate and gentle all the time, the difference within her is obviously noticeable. Santana has always been an emotional person, they know, but the sentiment she usually exuded was annoyed indifference. They never anticipated how deeply sensitive she is. This is the side of her personality that manifests itself after the noticeable shift that occurs during the roommate wine night. This side of Santana emerges when she can no longer ignore the battle that constantly wages within her or the alcohol she's consumed has converted her into a weepy drunk.
The loft space, while abundantly blessed with high-ceilings and a manageable rent, features no concrete walls. The cloth curtain dividers they use to denote their own personal space don't work as audible barriers. Rachel and Kurt can both recall nights that they've been kept awake in their own beds, in the muffled quiet of the shared home, by the quiet sobbing of their third roommate. Each has questioned the decision to lie still, without indicating that they're not asleep, instead of going to her in comfort. They choose instead to bear the same cross as Santana, silently, from feet away. They lay in the dark, together but so distant, and remember. They all seem to ponder the same question: what if?
Rachel tried comforting Santana once- the first time that she heard the crying. She'd approached Santana's carved-out niche in the loft with quiet bare feet, poking her head through the gap in the curtain. In a low, calming voice she'd asked if Santana was all right and received, in turn, a quiet but firm "fuck off, Rachel" in response. Since then, they'd all chosen to not discuss Santana's weekly ritual of burying her face into her pillow and sobbing until she fell asleep. After it had happened, the next morning they all went about their business as usual. Rachel would do her vocal warm up exercises while making tea. Kurt would spend hours in the bathroom fixing his hair before emerging to sit at the kitchen table to read the paper. Santana would eat her cereal, using Rachel's soymilk (which usually led to arguments- but never on mornings that followed crying spells). No one would mention how collectively they were up until almost three because that's when Santana was able to drift off.
It is out of pure kindness, they know, that they don't press her for a better understanding of what pains her so much. They don't have to now that they know her exceedingly well. The Santana they live with isn't the same as in high school. She's still bitchy and mean at times- but there is so much good in her. It is such a surprising realization, the volume of the affection and love she has to offer (only when she decides to) that they are constantly amazed at the parts of her that they get the pleasure to become acquainted with.
The Santana back at McKinley would never come home from a late shift hostessing with a sack of warm donuts she'd picked up from their favorite late night shop on the way home. She never would have remembered that Rachel eats the ones with a special vegan vanilla icing, or that Kurt loves the cream-filled ones (insert gay joke here, Santana always muses). But she does now. She does dishes and takes out the trash, keeps her belongings to her own area of the loft. She tries so hard to be perfect that sometimes all they want to do is tell her that it's ok to not be—but they don't. Still a residual personality trait, Santana seems avoid signs of weakness.
In return for the donuts, the late night talks and roommate camaraderie, there is a nonverbal understanding that there is a part of her life that Santana does not give them access to. She locks this portion away and it becomes in everyone's best interest to not press the matter. It is the part of her that peaks out during their roommate wine nights, which leads to the eventual tears. Crying in the dark falls into the category of "don't ask don't tell" aspects of their life with Santana. There's a specific name that continues to go unspoken within the walls of the loft. The name comes with a reverence around it so great that Rachel and Kurt don't dare mention her because they're mostly sure that they couldn't bear to break the spell. So they don't talk about her, even when they all know that she's there, in the corner of Santana's mind, always.
Rachel and Kurt both know that this is the one crack in Santana's usually polished façade. They know how hard she furiously works, day in and day out, to pretend that there is no obvious gash in her heart. They don't let on that they both suspect that she internally barters with god or the devil to fill the empty space with someone else, but it hasn't happened. They understand the cause of the tears, even if Santana has never vocally told them what happened. They don't pry—they can't. They can't bear to be the ones to ask her to acknowledge the blemished veneer she tries to hide.