Chapter: 2/?
Word Count: 3438
A.N: The songs are Dido's "Don't Believe in Love" and Coldplay's "Talk".
Comments make me happy, even if negative. English is not my first language so if anyone can find the time and the patience to beta this story I will be fover in debt.
Chapter I
Talk
New York, October 2016
I wanna go to bed with arms around me
But wake up on my own
Pretend that I'm still sleeping
Til' you go home
Slender arms slid from around Santana, pulling her from her reflections. She shut her eyes and tried to keep her breath even to simulate sleep. The bed dipped as the other person got up and started to move silently all over the room, bending to recollect their belongings. She could have sneaked a peak, after all it was still early and the room was bathed in darkness, but the Latina didn't want to risk getting caught in the process. That always caused problems. It's only as she heard the front door close that she let herself open her eyes.
Oh I can't look at you this morning
I should probably have a sign
That says 'Leave right now or quicker'
You've overstayed your time
A sigh escaped her lips and she ran her hands trough her long hair trying, failing miserably, to disentangle the knots formed during the night. The brunette threw an arm over the left side of the bed to check the time on the display of the digital alarm.
05:38.
That meant that it was too early for most people to be up yet.
Later sounds and snippets of conversations would filter through her apartment: from across the hall the footsteps of the old lady next door who took her dog, one of those looking like overgrown hamsters, for a walk as she did every day exactly at 7:43; ten minutes later from the stairs the cursing and grumbling of the kid of the couple who lived above her, constantly late to school. Oh, how she despised him… not that she usually liked kids…
She didn't have to be at work for another three hours, so she stared at the white ceiling relishing the quietness. A smile started to form on her face as the past seven hours rewound in her mind.
The music beat was loud.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It echoed with the pounding of her racing heart, making her blood boil. Santana didn't think, she just felt; the slick sweat on her glistening skin, the touch of the people spinning around her, the blond hair which blocked out her view, preventing her to be aware of her surroundings.
She lost herself in the sensual dance.
The brunette moved her body as it was the only way to express herself, to show her needs to the entire world. She was just a body, an animal, only aware of the hunger inside her.
She moved her hands over pale skin, never letting them stop in one place for too long; they flew from an elegant neck, slowly down toned arms and around a flat stomach, and back all over again.
Keeping her eyes closed the Latina let her other senses do the leading.
When the burning in her core became too much she leant her face near a delicate ear and whispered with a raspy voice full of promises. "Why don't we take this somewhere else, beautiful?"
The answer as always was immediate; a clammy hand pulled her away from the dance floor, towards the exit, and she was slammed against a brick wall.
Glad that her eyes didn't have the time to adjust to the dark hallway, she switched position.
Santana bent a little her left leg and pushed it forward with all her weight until her body was molded against supple heat. Loud moans escaped both parties. In the cold night small clouds formed with each shuddering breath they took.
Her mouth attached to a long neck, teeth scraping against taut tendons. She sucked the skin, leaving behind angry marks.
A sound, a cuss, "Fuck." escaped the creature in front of her and Santana put a hand on her mouth to silence her.
But it was too late. The illusion was already broken.
She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes. When she reopened them, they were indecipherable. The heat had disappeared, replaced by anger. Blue eyes turned dark from desire, too focused on plump lips, didn't notice the change in her demeanor. Hands grabbed her shoulder and she found them in reversed positions. The violence reignited her fire and in a hiss she rasped. "Less talking and more action, okay?"
The smirk she received was confirmation enough. Grasping a handful of hair and tugging she latched her mouth on a jutting collarbone.
She could keep pretending for a while more.
As Santana came down from her high little whimpers escaped her lips and blended together becoming unrecognizable, but she knew what they said. It was always the same. They echoed with the pounding of her heart. Britt. Britt. Britt.
She shivered, however the cold she felt didn't come from the layer of drying sweat left on her skin; it came from inside her.
She turned on her other side and buried her face in the pillow. When arm wound around her seeking warmth she stiffened. The small gesture didn't bring her comfort and the body next to her didn't alleviate her loneliness.
It was long after she felt steady breathing next to her ear that the Latina finally fell asleep. Her pillow was drenched in tears.
If I don't believe in love nothing will last for me
If I don't believe in love nothing is safe for me
When I don't believe in love you're too close to me
And that's why you have to leave
That smile vanished as it never appeared at all.
Even if her body was sated, her heart longed for more. No, not for more. It longed for something different.
Their eyes weren't bright enough, or mischievous enough. They never were the right shade of light blue, like the color of a clear morning sky, and almost feline like in shape.
Their hair was always too dark or too curly. It was never long and silky enough and it surely never smelled of vanilla.
They were always wrong; too tall, too pale, too…wrong. They couldn't compare, not even closely.
They…they weren't Her.
If I don't believe in love
Nothing is left for me
Her fingers dialed a number without her brain registering doing it. The Latina was shook from her reverie when it started to ring. A groggy voice answered before she had a chance to hang up.
"Hello?"
She froze. It was a male voice.
"Who's th-" She closed the call without giving him time to finish.
A loud sob escaped from her lips and tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Her left hand gripped the phone with so much strength that the knuckles turned white, while on her right palm blood had started seeping out from the cuts left from her nails. With a sudden movement she threw the phone against the mirror on the wall shattering it in a thousand pieces.
Careful not to cut herself she knelt to collect a fragment. She almost didn't recognize the woman staring back at her. This wasn't Santana Lopez. This wasn't the HBIC everyone was scared of.
She couldn't believe this was what became of the teenager of five years before.
Red-rimmed eyes stared back at her. She looked as lost as she felt.
She gazed at her reflection for a long while without moving a muscle. Finally a trembling hand reached for the phone and dialed a number she hadn't called in a long time. After a couple of second someone picked up.
"Hello?"
Her throat closed up and no words escaped.
"Hello? If this is a joke it's not fun-"
"Hi, Q." Santana swallowed the lump in her throat. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Quinn exhaled from the other end of the line. "Santana." Her stupor didn't last long. "Fuck. Look, I don't want to talk to you. You can't call me once a year and expect me to…" She stopped and took a deep breath.
The Latina didn't give her time to continue her tirade. "What do you say about meeting for coffee? I think we have a lot of catching up to do."
A pause. "Okay."
They agreed on place and time and hung up.
Santana could see hundreds of smiles reflected from the fragments of mirror still the floor. They were a bit broken and tentative. They clearly weren't much, but it felt like a start nonetheless.
Quinn was already at the café when Santana arrived. The blond was seated inside near the big window overlooking the busy street. It was the perfect position to exit quickly if necessary. Knowing Quinn the setting wasn't accidental.
"Hi, Q."
The blonde lifted her gaze from the book she was reading. Then she lowered her eyes and with poise and calm put a bookmark between the pages and closed it. After putting it away in her bag she rose from the table and stood next to her chair.
She finally lifted her gaze on Santana and the only warning the Latina got was the flashing of those green eyes, before a slap echoed through the room.
"Ouch. Fuck, Q. I hope you don't greet all your friends in this way." Santana commented while stroking her abused cheek. "It was almost as good as the one I gave Finn that one time in Glee club." She added to alleviate the tension.
All she got in response was a harsher glare. "You can't expect me to greet you with open arms after five years without a visit. Especially after what you did to Brittany. Tell me why I shouldn't leave right now."
"It's a long story, it's better if we sit down."
They remained in silence until the waitress left their table.
"You look great, Q."
"Thanks. But don't try to distract me." The blonde leant back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Why? Why now? What changed? Usually you call me about once a year to check if I'm still alive." And added as an afterthought. "…If She is still alive."
Santana took a deep breath and admitted. "I called her."
"You what!" The look she received was murderous to say in the least and she stared down at her hands. "You can't-"
"She doesn't know." She whispered without lifting her eyes.
"You left a messa-"
"No."
"Then what are you-" Quinn was really puzzled.
"She didn't pick up." A beat. "He did."
"Oh."
"Yeah…"
"What did you say?" The blonde was starting to get angry again. "I hope you didn't-"
"I hung up. I didn't say anything." She didn't look convinced. "I swear."
"Then why did you call me?" Quinn's voice got higher with the more frustrated she felt. "You can't decide that you can waltz back in her life now that she's finally happy. Just because she's with someone else and you can't have her. I won't stand this. I won't let you fuck up her life. So I'm…" She trailed off noticing the sad smile on the Latina's face. "Why are you smiling now?"
"I'm just happy that you kept your word."
That didn't help the blonde in the slightest. "What are you talk-" Something clicked in her mind.
Oh brother I can't I can't get through
I've been tryin' hard to reach you 'cause I don't know what to do
Oh brother I can't believe it's true
I'm so scared about the future and I want to talk to you
Oh I want to talk to you
The two had been studying in silence all afternoon, cooped up in Santana's room.
"Promise me that you'll always be Brittany's friend."
The blonde was startled for a second, concentration broken, and then she rolled her eyes at the request. "How can you not be her friend? If your girl put her mind to it she could befriend even a rock." She moved her gaze back to the pages in front of her.
"Please, swear that you'll always try to take care of her."
She gave the brunette an incredulous look. "Are you high? Maybe it's the too much studying…"
"Amuse me." Santana said with an eye-roll. "Please."
"Ugh. Okay. I swear." This was followed by a scoff. "Can we go back to the Second World War? We've got the finals in a couple of weeks."
"Whatever you want, Princess." Santana replied with a smirk.
"Ugh. Today you are even more insufferable than usual. Didn't think it was possible…" Quinn commented before immersing herself in the book.
"You love me."
"Only because you help me with Spanish." She added without lifting her eyes, with her mind on the dates to memorize.
She didn't notice a sad smile appear on Santana's face.
"You already knew back then, didn't you?" Quinn passed a hand through her hair. "It doesn't make sense. You stayed together until the end of the summer before college. Why did you ask me that back in May?"
She looked as if she wanted to say more, but the waitress arrived with their orders, and decided to stay quiet. The Latina could see the cogs turning in her mind.
Santana reached for her frappuccino; however her hands shook too much so she folded them in her lap, clenching them tightly together. The blonde didn't notice anything, busy receiving her cup.
Once again left alone Santana replied. "Because I knew you would have done as I asked."
"Why not later? Right before you left?"
"In that way you would have noticed something was up. I wanted to leave unnoticed."
"But it didn't go that way, as you planned." It was an honest observation; it didn't held resentment.
"No, it didn't. At all." The regret in her voice was almost palpable.
They stayed quiet, Quinn sipping her drink and Santana looking outside the window.
"Why me?"
"You were my best friend, other than Her."
"No, I mean now."
"You still are." With a self-deprecating smile she added. "Doesn't that say a lot about me?"
Quinn shook her head denying the statement. "You could have called Puck. I know you two kept in touch. Hell, you could have called Rachel. Anyone but me. Even if I look calm now I still want to kill you. I'll just wait until you finish to explain everything."
"They wouldn't understand."
"And I would?" The disbelief was clear in her tone.
"Yes."
She was becoming frustrated again. "What have I got that the others don't?"
"You know what it means to love something enough to let them go; to set them free. Because you couldn't give them everything they deserved, because you couldn't make them happy."
The answer floored Quinn, but she quickly replaced her astonishment with rage. "Oh, don't give me that self-hating crap. It's all bullshit." She stood. "We all left Lima that year, you can't use that excuse." She threw ten dollars on the table and turned to leave. "If you are going to feed me lies, I'm going to go or else I may do something I won't regret in the slightest." And with that final shot she started to move towards the exit.
A hand on her arm stopped her short. "Please, Q. Listen to what I have to say. If after you still think that, I'll let you walk out that door and you won't hear from me ever again. Okay?"
The pain swirling in those dark eyes persuaded her. "Okay." She took her previous position and leant her elbows on the table, manners be damned. "I'm listening."
Santana took a deep breath to recollect her thought and began to describe the past five years of her life to the blonde.
Are you lost or incomplete?
Do you feel like a puzzle, you can't find your missing piece?
Tell me how you feel
Well I feel like they're talkin' in a language I don't speak
And they're talkin' it to me
At the end of her tale both had tears in her eyes.
"That's it… So am I forgiven?" The Latina asked with a tentative smile. "No." It fell. "Because it's not my right to forgive you. It's hers. If anything I am the one who owes you an apology. I could have been a better friend for you."
Standing up and opening her arms Quinn engulfed the brunette in a hug.
"I'm happy that you finally got the guts to meet me and pull your head from your ass."
"I see that you, on the other hand, still got a stick lodged in it." Santana quipped with a genuine smile.
"Har har. You're hilarious." The response was accompanied with an eye-roll.
"One of my many qualities."
"Oh, so modest."
"That too."
They both broke in matching grins.
"Don't be a stranger anymore, okay?" With a last squeeze they separated. "But the threat I made before is still valid. Don't fuck up with her." The glare testified how serious the blonde was.
"Don't worry. I have no intention of calling her. Just one thing…"
"Is she happy? With him? I mean, does he make her happy?" Santana had to ask, to know if she did everything for a good reason.
"Yes, she is and he does." Quinn replied with honesty.
"Then I'm happy for her." The comment was followed by a sad smile.
With a last nod the blonde went to leave. "Q!" At the call she turned to look back over her shoulder. "Thanks." Santana offered before going in the opposite direction.
Walking through the busy streets, the Latina made her way back home with her hands in the pockets of her trench coat. They wouldn't stop shaking.
The more she thought about the previous conversation the more she convinced herself of having done the right thing; Quinn couldn't know the whole truth yet, she wasn't ready. Someday she would be, until then that cross was only hers to bear. But after having finally told someone such big part of the story, even if it was full of half-truths and missing pieces, Santana felt a lot lighter.
She needed a friend. She needed Quinn. Now she felt a little less alone. In some contorted way, having a third of the Unholy Trinity back in her life meant she was bit nearer Her. But that wasn't enough to quench the ache in her heart.
At the same time in another part of the city Quinn had just arrived home. She closed the door with her foot and threw the keys in the bowl on the table. From the kitchen she could hear the noises of someone rummaging in the fridge.
"Hey, I hope you're not trying to cook. You remember what happened last time." She said leaning against the doorframe.
Her roommate replied without taking their head from inside the fridge. "Don't worry. I was just trying to find the Chinese leftovers."
"If you want I can cook something for us both, I am a bit hungry."
The smile she received was blinding. "Thanks. You're a lifesaver. Recipes are so confusing, I don't know what I would do without you."
"Starve to death." Quinn deadpanned.
"No, I would just eat frozen pizza and chips and cookies. Ohhh and tho-"
"Okay, okay. I get it." She interrupted with a laugh.
The pasta was almost ready when her roommate asked. "Where you on a date? Usually you came home earlier."
"Uhm, you know…" She racked her brain for a name when her gaze fell on the TV, where the promo of a new rom-com was on. "…Justin, a friend from Yale, was here in New York, so we met to catch up. You remember that café, Olsen's, we went there for a cup of coffee. Yeah…" She gave herself a mental pat on the back for the quick thinking.
"You could have told me. The studio is not far from it, we could have made the way back home together." A pout followed the observation.
"Next time, Britt. I promise." She replied in the sincerest tone she could manage.
Once in her room, she laid on her bed staring at the ceiling. She didn't know what would have happened if she had let escape her recent meeting with Santana. She sighed, keeping the two apart was a lot more difficult than it seemed. She still wasn't sure of what to think of the Latina. What she had been told seemed believable, but she felt as if there was still something missing and it was just out of her reach. She ran her hand through her hair. She had the inkling that things would get bad soon.
She cursed the brunette. She was in for many sleepless nights.
