A/N: SO MUCH ANGST GOING ON IN THE FANDOM RIGHT NOW, KIDS. That being said, I would like to assure you that Brittana is endgame, both in the show and in this fic. We're just… going through some character building. Together. Right? They're testing us. They're making us stronger as a fandom and making us love them as a couple more. This too shall pass, and standing in the light at the end of the tunnel there will be beautiful Brittana babies everywhere and everything will be marshmallows and unicorns and sunshine. Okay?

I'm sorry for my ramblings. Here's the latest. Try your hardest not to get mad at Santana. You'll get her perspective next chapter. Though if you are feeling angry or upset or any range of emotions, feel free to talk to me about it on here or on my Tumblr. If you wanna be scared for next week with me, or want to come comfort me the closer we get to next Thursday, please don't be afraid to leave me an ask or a message. I love talking to people, I promise. ESPECIALLY about Brittana. Come be my friend. :)

This will be kind of fast moving, because it's a sort of "in-between" time. I'm not really too happy with this chapter. I could probably really use a beta to discuss ideas with, if anyone would be up for it.

iam-your-opus . tumblr . com

Brittany

You aren't happy on the tour. You were hoping that you'd be so distracted again that you'd forget about what had happened enough to be happy. Isn't that what happened last time?

Now she's all that's on your mind. For the first month, you hold this romantic belief that she's going to show up one night after one of your performances, tell you that you danced beautifully and kiss you. She doesn't, of course, and every once in a while you'll come to your senses and realize how silly that idea is. Still, it's usually one of the last thoughts on your mind before you fall asleep every night.

You make friends with some of the dancers, but you don't tell them about Santana. You think you'd eventually start crying if they asked you what had happened, and you don't want them to think you're weird. Instead, you keep to yourself. You go out with them when they invite you, make polite conversation and laugh at their jokes. They call you a sweetheart and some of them even get your number and text you when they're bored about boys or the routines or plans for that night. You're glad you have friends, but you don't feel any sort of emotional connection to them.

One of the guys, Charlie, likes you. You can tell because he always volunteers to be your partner during all the shows, and texts you just to talk the most out of any of your friends. At first you thought that maybe he just liked the way you dance or wanted to be closer with you, but then you went out with him and a few of the other dancers after a show one night. You went to a bar, and Charlie got a little drunk. He flirted with you and kept his arm around the back of your chair the entire evening. He told you he thought you were beautiful and asked you to dance.

You miss being able to push guys like that off with an "I have a girlfriend." Still, Charlie isn't a bad guy and he isn't being outright flirtatious, you've just always had a sense for when people were starting to get more than friendly towards you. If he made a move, you'd reject him, obviously. For now, you weren't going to put yourself at odds with the only people keeping your sane on tour by telling him to back off.

Instead, you just tell him that you're tired from that night's show. He says he'll get you next time, and you don't tell him no.

A few nights later, you get a text from Santana. You weren't really expecting her to contact you, with the way things left off. You had decided that if you hadn't heard from her by the end of the second month, you'd contact her yourself. But, your phone is buzzing in your hand barely two weeks after you left for tour, and your heart is racing when you see Santana's name on the screen.

It sinks a moment later.

She's moved out. She is just texting you to let you know. She's found an apartment near Kurt, which you're glad for. It's good she's staying close to Rachel and Kurt. It means that Kurt can make good on his promise to take care of her for you.

You text her back and ask if she likes her new place. You get angry with yourself the second you press send, because that isn't really what you want to know. You're talking to Santana for the first time in weeks and you're asking her silly questions, and god only knows how long she's going to carry a conversation with you for. You should be asking her something important while you have the chance.

Are you happy? you type instead, and send it immediately. A little check mark appears next to it, and you know she's received it. You wait nervously for a reply, before you phone vibrates again.

Yes, it says simply, and you're not sure whether or not she's replying to your first question or your second one. You wait another full minute before deciding that that was the only answer you'd be receiving from her, no matter which question it was answering.

I'm glad, you write out, and go to press send. Your finger hovers over the button. You figure this will be the end of your conversation, because she didn't really want to talk to you. She was just being polite, as your ex-roommate, and letting you know she'd found a new place. You don't know when the next time you'll get to talk to her is, and you don't want to waste this.

I miss you, you add, and before you have time to second-guess yourself you press the send button.

You're nervous. You don't want to make her feel awkward or sad because of your admission, but you want her to know it so badly that you just couldn't help but say it. You regret it when she responds.

You too, Brittany.

She uses your full name. She rarely ever does that, especially not when saying something sweet and sincere, like "I love you," or "I miss you." But then again, that isn't what she said. All you got was a "you too."

You drop your phone onto your bed before burying yourself into your pillow.

Maybe she just doesn't want to give you false hope. Maybe she's already forgotten about you. You don't know, but the distance in her text brings tears to your eyes. That night you don't fall asleep with hopeful fantasies.

You're glad when your friends invite you out again a few days later, because you've been spending the past few nights re-watching sad movies and eating junk food.

You drink more than you probably should, and you feel bad, because you know you shouldn't be drinking your problems away. You decide that just this once it wouldn't be so bad, and besides, Charlie is buying all your drinks for you anyway.

You're out on the dance floor before you realize that this really was a bad idea, because Charlie is out there with you and you had sworn off dancing with him. You don't want to lead him on, after all. But you're having fun, or at least in your drunken state it feels like you are, and Charlie is such a good dancer, and almost as much fun to dance with as Mike Chang.

Charlie has his hands on your hips when you realize that this was a really bad idea. You know you don't think when you're dancing, you just move, and you keep forgetting that you can't be this way with him. He won't understand that for you, a dance is just a dance. He thinks that there's something more behind this.

He proves you right when he leans in to kiss you. His lips are barely grazing against yours before you're stumbling backwards, away from him, excusing yourself to the bathroom. You pass the group of your friends in tears. Ani, your closest friend out of all of them, looks concerned, and you think you see her trailing behind her as you push open the door to the ladies room.

You're sitting on the bench in the corner when she walks in. She looks around the room quickly before her eyes settle on you, and she smiles sympathetically. You know you have tears streaming down your face and your makeup must be ruined, but you don't care.

She sits down next to you and her hand falls against your back, as she starts to rub soothing circles. You bury your face in your hands, trying to hide your tears and your embarrassment.

"What's wrong, Britt?" she asks gently. You don't know what to say. There's so much wrong. You're drunk, and Santana broke up with you, and you're hundreds of miles away from her and your only friends are now going to hate you because you've just freaked out on one of them for trying to kiss you when you know you were probably leading him on.

All that comes out is a sob.

She makes all the right noises, telling you "it's okay" and shushing you when you start to cry louder. She rubs your back until your sobs subside, and then raises her hand up to play with your hair gently.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" she asks.

"Charlie tried to kiss me," you say, and she looks confused. Of course she's confused. A cute guy trying to kiss you isn't usually a reason for a mental breakdown in the women's room.

"Is that a bad thing?" she asks cautiously, and you shrug. You don't want to go into detail. You're hoping to maybe get out of this with your friendships still intact, and you don't want them to see you as this broken girl who needs fixing. They shouldn't feel responsible for you, and you're pretty sure they wouldn't want to bring you out to bars and clubs with them if they did.

"C'mon, why don't you give Charlie a shot? He's a really nice guy, and you can't tell me you don't think he's cute," she says, nudging your shoulder. You chuckle even though you're still crying a little bit.

"I just got out of a really long relationship…" you say, and Ani arches an eyebrow.

"So you're not denying that you think he's cute," she taunts, and you roll your eyes. "A long relationship, huh? You need to move on then, Britt. I'm sure he is."

"I'm still in love with her," you answer, shrugging.

"You're gay?" She raises her eyebrows.

"Well that explains a lot," Ani says, trying to make a joke out of it. You want to correct her, to tell her you're actually bisexual, but you don't bother. Maybe telling your friends you're gay will make things easier with Charlie, anyway.

"Because Charlie is one fine man."

You smile weakly but don't respond. You think you've just made things awkward for her by the way she brushes it off, but she scoots closer to you and wraps her arm around your shoulder.

"It'll be okay, Britt," she says, squeezing you tightly. You stay that way for a minute more before she moves to get up, holding her hand out to you.

"C'mon, let's fix your makeup and get you back out there," Ani says as she pulls you up. She pulls a couple of things out of her purse before fixing your face up, and you're so grateful for her because by the time she pulls away the only noticeable thing is that your eyes are a little red.

Charlie apologizes when you walk outside, coming up to meet you almost immediately.

You tell him it's okay, and he starts to say something else before Ani interrupts him saying, "She plays for the other team!" She pulls you away giggling, and you can't help but laugh with her at the dumbfounded look on Charlie's face.

By the time you leave the tour, you know you've made some lifelong friends. As it turns out, Charlie is a great guy when he's not hitting on you. You bond over a lot, and a month into the tour he starts to date Jessica, another one of the girls in your group.

Ani is super supportive, and you even talk to her about Santana a few times. She becomes your bunkmate, and you share a hotel room as you travel from city to city. One particularly tearful night, you tell her your and Santana's whole story, starting from when you first met and ending on the day she left you. Even Ani's eyes are damp by the end of it.

Ani lives in the city, too, but isn't going back right away. She has another gig lined up only two days after this one ends. You have another tour planned for two months from now, but you haven't made any final decisions yet. You want to talk to Santana first.

Ani flies home with you, and you share a taxicab to your separate apartments. She squeezes you tightly before you get out of the car, and you promise to Skype her sometime soon.

You haven't heard from Santana for the rest of the time you've been gone. You've called Rachel a few times while you were away, just to see how they're all doing, but she didn't have much information for you. She's in a new show, and still attending school. She's extremely busy between the two, but says she's been able to take care of Santana.

She said that Santana isn't doing much, just going to school and singing. There's a note of hesitancy in her voice that makes you nervous. You press her for more information, but she tells you that Santana is doing just fine, but that she doesn't want to invade Santana's privacy by telling you the details.

You walk up the stairs to your apartment, dreading the time you're going to spend inside of those walls. You'd consider moving, but you know you don't have the money and it seems like it'd be overdramatic.

Still, you can't help the tears that fill your eyes when you open the door and everything is quiet inside. Even in just the hallway, it no longer feels the same.

You walk through the empty apartment, noting the changes. She's taken a lot of her things, but then again, they were hers. She's left you with a lot of things that you know she shouldn't have because she bought them, but you're grateful. Your family isn't particularly rich, and dancing pays enough to live on, but not enough to furnish an apartment with.

The last time you arrived home from a tour you were terribly surprised, and you're disappointed to find exactly what you were expecting when you walk in this time.

You pull your suitcase into your bedroom. The place is dusty, and you make a mental note to clean it tomorrow.

Santana's closet is completely emptied out, and you're regretting the decision you made to give her back her sweatshirt.

You walk into the kitchen. You open the cabinets, but immediately feel stupid when you realize there's no food. No one's been grocery shopping here in four months, after all.

You end up finding an unopened box of Lucky Charms and eating it dry for lunch, sitting on the couch. You mindlessly watch television, ignoring the bag that needs unpacking and the rooms that need cleaning as you let your thoughts melt away.

It's late afternoon by the time you decide you need to do something more. You call Rachel, but she doesn't answer. You frown. You want to know what Santana's doing, now that you're back. You want to meet with her, to talk to her. You decide that there's no harm in calling her yourself, now that she's had four months to deal with the breakup.

You punch in her number and press send before you have time to come up with a reason why you shouldn't be doing this, though you're sure you could think of plenty. It's ringing, and you're dreading it going to voicemail again when someone picks up.

"Hello?"

It's a woman's voice. You don't recognize it. You hang up. You look down at your phone to double check the number, but Santana's smiling face is staring back up at you. You had dialed correctly, so who the hell was that?

You don't call back again after that. You tell yourself that it's because you don't want to pester her, but really you're just scared, now, of what that voice meant on the other end of the line.

You spend the rest of the day taking down all the photos of the two of you. You put them in a box and shove it inside Santana's closet. You don't tape it shut—you're pretty sure that there will be many times that you'll sit there, looking through your old memories.

You buy a new brand of laundry detergent at the store on the corner and clean all of the sheets and blankets, hoping to wash the smell of her away before you have to spend the night surrounded in it.

There are still the little things that you'll be finding for weeks, of course. The bottle of her shampoo in the shower, or one of her shoes left forgotten, under the bed. But you do your best to make the apartment bearable, because as much as you love Santana, you can't be reminded of her every minute you're home. You just don't have the heart for it.

By some crazy chance, you end up spotting Santana barely a week into your two months at home.

You're at one of your favorite restaurants, a few blocks down from your apartment. You're here by yourself, for now. You're supposed to be meeting some friends here to catch up in twenty minutes, but you arrived early and figured that you could get a seat and order some drinks and appetizers ahead of time.

You don't know if it was a cruel twist or fate or a blessing from the gods, but it doesn't matter to you either way because there she is, sitting across the restaurant that you have just walked into.

There she is and she's smiling at another girl who's sitting across from her. It is so heartbreakingly beautiful that you don't know whether to laugh or cry. It's everything you've missed about her, the warmth and caring and love, and it hurts you to see that she's smiling that smile at someone else.

It is that smile, isn't it? Your smile, the one she had only for you? After all, you could be mistaken. Maybe it's just because you haven't seen her smile in so long that you can't seem to draw your eyes away. You're far away, but you can practically feel its radiance from across the restaurant. Everything about Santana was always blinding to you.

You stand near the bar while you wait for your friends. You're torn between going up and talking to her and staying here, where you're safe. She makes that decision for you when she catches your eyes a few minutes later. She looks like she excuses herself from the girl's company before standing up and walking towards you.

"Brittany?"

"Santana," you reply. You can't help but smile. She looks even more beautiful up close.

She's wearing a nice dress. Not the fancy kind, but the sort you'd wear when you used to go parties together in high school. She's wearing makeup, but it's dark and not at all the style that you're used to. She looks like she did back when you first got together, and not at all like the person who was comfortable in her own skin that she had become in your years with her since then. She looks incredibly attractive though, and that, combined her company at her table, leads you to believe that you've just interrupted a date.

"When did you get back?" Her voice sounds breathless and her eyes are wide, like she can't believe you're in the same room as her. Honestly, you can't either.

"A week ago," you answer, and her eyebrows pull together.

"I'm… I meant to call," she says, and you shrug. She meant to call, but she didn't. She's been busy. With what, though? The girl at the table?

"I called you," you reply. "But-"

"I got a new number," she responds quickly. At first you're relieved, because that means that the girl on the other end of the line wasn't her girlfriend answering her phone. And then you realize that she got a new number and didn't bother to tell you, and you frown.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry," Santana takes a step closer and you shake your head. "I meant to-"

"It's fine."

She stops where she is and tugs at her dress nervously. The silence becomes uncomfortable as she stares at her feet, and your eyes dart to the girl at the table behind her.

"Are you on a date with her?" you ask bluntly. You know that this conversation might not last very long, so you decide to cut right to the chase. You need to know what Santana is doing with this girl. Have they been together long? Are they just friends? Is it serious? Is she in love with her? Or is this just their first date, is she going to have Rachel call her in ten minutes so she can excuse herself and leave. Somehow, you get a feeling that it isn't the latter.

"I…" she trails off nervously, looking behind her. You give her what you hope is a small reassuring smile.

"Santana, it's okay, you can tell me," you say gently, and she offers you a feeble smile in return. She looks scared, and you figure that gives you your answer already.

She's scared of how you'll react, and you promise yourself that you won't let her see that this is hurting you. Even if Santana has moved on, she's not a bad person. She won't want to see you in pain. She might even still love you, in some way. At the very least you hope she still calls you her friend. You won't let her see that the fact that she's here, on a date with a beautiful girl, smiling at her like that is breaking your heart all over again.

"Yes. But Brittany-"

"No buts, San. We broke up," you cut in. You don't want her to feel like she owes you anything. The circumstances of your breakup were complicated, at best, and even though you know you won't be moving on anytime soon, Santana has every right to. You want to see her happy, after all, don't you? You know that you don't make her happy. You should be feeling nothing but joy at the fact that she's moved on and found someone who could do what you couldn't.

You're feeling the furthest thing from joy, of course.

"Yeah, but I didn't…" She doesn't finish her sentence, and you're dying to know what's on the other end of it.

"You didn't what?" you ask, when it's clear she has no intention of finishing her thought. You hope you've kept the eagerness out of your voice, but you can't tell because the only reaction she has is to bite her lip and look towards the ground.

"I didn't want you to find out like this," she says, looking over her shoulder at the girl sitting at the table. She's pretty, you're not too petty to admit that. She has red hair, which you didn't really think was Santana's type but apparently…

The girl is watching a band playing on the small stage intently, not looking at all bothered by the fact that Santana has been gone for a few minutes or that she's talking to her ex-girlfriend. If she even knows about you, that is.

"What's her name?" you ask. You don't want to ask the question, but you realize that you need to. It literally pains you to not know what's going in Santana's life, and you want so badly to be happy for her in all of this. All you've ever wanted was to see her happy, you remind yourself.

"Emily," she says with no emotion, no sigh of love afterwards, and you're grateful. You nod in recognition but don't say anything. What are you supposed to say, after all? Emily is a lovely name for the girl in the green dress, swaying to the music, who is making the love of your life smile when you're not there to anymore.

"I… are you back?" Santana asks timidly, and your eyes snap away from her date.

"What?"

"Are you back? I mean, how long are you home for?" she clarifies, and you feel your heart sink.

Two months, that's all you have to be near her again before you're across the country and the world. You weren't sure whether or not you were going to accept the gig, but now you feel as if the decision has been made for you. You can't be here if Santana's moved on.

Another two months, then. That's all you have. You tell her as much, and she nods solemnly. You think there's a bit of sadness in her eyes, but she diverts them from your own almost immediately upon hearing the news.

"And then?" she asks, quietly. You're not sure what to tell her, so you decide it's best to just tell her the truth.

"I have another offer. I'd be gone for another year if I went," you explain. Her shoulders fall a negligible amount and your heart jumps at the tiniest of movements. She's disappointed.

You feel like a bad person because you're happy at her apparent sadness. That's not the way things are supposed to be, is it? It used to be that you were happy when she was happy. But then when you were away on tour you were happy and she wasn't. And now, she's happy on her date with Emily, and you're heartbroken. Maybe things aren't the way they used to be at all. Maybe it's a sign that you two really weren't meant for each other.

"Oh," escapes her mouth in a sigh, and you nod. You chew your lip before asking your next question.

"Do you… do you think I should go?"

Her eyes connect with yours immediately, and you can tell she knows what you're asking. She glances back behind her at the girl, Emily, before nodding slowly.

"Yeah, Brittany," she says. "I do."

You know that you can't hide the hurt on your face at her words, so you drop your eyes down to the ground. You nod. You understand. She's moved on now; she doesn't want you hanging around. You'd be giving up your dream for someone who doesn't want you anymore. You'd be willing to do it if there was any chance that she'd want you to stay, but it's pretty clear that she doesn't want you here.

You scuff your feet at the ground, nodding your head. You hear her sigh, but you don't look up. Your phone starts to buzz in your pocket, and it's your friend Alex calling you. You gesture to Santana, letting her know you have to answer.

"Hello?" you say.

"Hey, Britt honey. We're running pretty late. Any way we can reschedule to meet in like an hour?"

"Um…" You don't want to wait around here for an hour. "Tell you what, I'll get some food from here to go and meet you back at my place in like an hour. Sound good?"

Alex says that it sounds fine, and you're hanging up less than a minute later. Santana's still standing there, waiting for you to get off the phone, and you're glad that Alex called and dissipated the awkwardness.

"I've gotta go," you say, pointing with your thumb towards the bar. She nods in acknowledgement. "It was nice seeing you," you offer weakly. You don't know what else to say now for goodbyes, since you can't use "I love you" anymore.

"Yeah," she responds, frowning. "You too. Take care of yourself, Britt."

You heart soars a little at the term of endearment before she's walking away, back towards her date.

You have fun with your friends, Katie and Alex. You know them from classes at Julliard, and they excitedly tell you about all the different things you've missed while you were away. You catch up on the latest gossip, and they tell you about all the awful professors they've had in the past months.

The three of you finish off a bottle of wine. Neither of them mentions Santana, because you're sure it's been spread around that the two of you are over. You've definitely confirmed the rumor by inviting them into the apartment you used to share. They've been here a few times before, and they got along with Santana just fine. You're sure they notice her absence.

They stay until the early morning, and you're glad. It's the first night that you haven't sat around sadly, and you actually ended up happy for the majority of the evening.

You'd left your phone charging in the other room while your friends were there, and when you go to get it the flashing alert light surprises you, indicating that you have a new voicemail message.

It's from a number you don't recognize, and you almost throw your phone down and collapse into bed when something tells you not to. You press play and hold the phone up to your ear.

"Hey, Britt." You recognize the voice immediately. "It's me. Santana. I just… I wanted to give you my number, and to apologize for not giving it to you in the first place. I don't know what I was thinking." The admission makes you smile.

"I want to meet with you again soon and catch up, if you'd like to. Give me a call back, we can get some coffee. I, uh—I missed you. I'd really like to see you again." Her voice sounds so sincere that you're certain your heart has just melted.

"So, just… call me back at this number, if you're free. Thanks. Bye."

You check your phone. She had called at least three hours before, and it's way too late to call her back tonight. You'll have to do it in the morning.

You change into pajamas and snuggle under the sheets, giving the message one more listen before turning off the lights and rolling over to sleep.

She wants to meet with you, to have coffee with you. Whether or not she's dating someone, you're still ecstatic at the idea of having her back in your life at any capacity.

She missed you.

She wants to see you again.

With that little bit of comfort, you fall asleep happy for the first time in weeks.

A/N: Reviews will make my day, and I have a feeling I'll probably need it tomorrow. I love you, kids. Talk to you soon!