A/N: Okay, I know I suck, I admit this and I'm sorry. This took way too long. But here it is anyway and thank you for your patience. Thank you for reviewing and liking, and taking your precious time to read. You all are so sweet.
Warning: (1) long chapter and (2) there may or may not be a slight cliffhanger.
FOUR
Someday they'd meet again
And have a need for more than reminiscing
.
It's Rachel's stupid 90s playlist that wakes up Santana the next morning.
Actually no, it's not a 90s playlist. It's an S Club 7 playlist.
S Club 7.
"What the fuck, Berry?" she yells as she hastily stands up from the bed to the kitchen where the sound seems to be coming from.
Don't stop never give up, hold your head high and reach the top.
Predictably, Rachel is singing along as she sits by the living room, blow-drying her hair.
Santana walks over to Rachel's laptop and pauses the song.
"What is your problem, Santana?" Rachel asks, slightly annoyed.
"My problem is your music blaring into my ears so early in the morning!"
Rachel rolls her eyes, something she has picked up from Santana, "You'd probably know it's way past 10 in the morning if you had bothered to check the clock before you ambushed my S Club 7 appreciation day."
Annoyed, Santana looks at the wall clock and sees that it is, indeed, half past 10.
"Doesn't matter, stop this," she says anyway, gesturing wildly with her hands.
Rachel stands from the couch, walks over to her laptop and looks Santana in the eyes as she presses the play button.
Dream of falling in love, everything you've been thinking of.
"Ugh!" she groans loudly and Rachel just smiles in victory.
"There's still coffee over there, serve yourself some or might as well pull the stick out of your ass," Rachel says and it kind of takes Santana aback 'cause Rachel never really argues back. Rachel knows how cranky Santana gets when she just woke up.
Santana looks around and notices that everyone's gone.
"Where is everybody?"
"Brit left for work, Kurt for dance class, and Quinn for Yale. Kurt allowed me stay and borrow his hair dryer."
The mention of Quinn's name takes Santana back to last night—and everything she heard.
It's the reason she woke up late; she hardly ever got to sleep. Santana's sure the sun was already up when sleep kicked in.
Santana walks over to the kitchen and starts heating up the coffee.
I woke up alone, the line resounds in her head along with the sound of the coffee maker and the stupid S Club 7 song. The line plays over and over in her head and the way Quinn's voice sounded so broken by it. It's what kept her up all night—the thought that somebody had broken Quinn like that.
But if she's going to be really honest, what haunted her the most is the possibility that it was her Quinn was talking about.
The long silence that embraced the room after Quinn's confession had been the longest, most excruciating silence in Santana's whole life (except for that silence in the hospital when Quinn was in surgery).
Santana expected Rachel to ask who the person Quinn was talking about because that's what Rachel does best—prying, asking questions, pulling the truth out of anyone.
She waited for Rachel to ask because part of her, the part that genuinely cares, wants to know about the guy she will most certainly beat up. She'd beat that guy up for hurting Quinn and for not knowing how lucky he was.
The larger part of her, the selfish part of her, wants to know that it was her Quinn was talking about. She wanted to know that she had that much impact on Quinn.
But the third part of her, the coward part, just can't stand knowing that it might be her who broke Quinn Fabray apart like that. Quinn is unfixable when she's broken—and Santana cannot stand the truth that she's just like everybody in Quinn's life; just like everybody who shattered her to pieces and left.
Rachel never asked, which is as surprising as Blaine not wearing a bow tie at least five times a week.
I know right?
So the truth is hanging in there somewhere. Who is the mystery guy or more like, was Quinn talking about Santana?
She pours coffee into her large mug and sits by dining table, the sound of the next S Club 7 song completely ignored now.
She thinks about waking up the morning after Valentine's. She thinks about waking up next to Quinn and she remembers just how surprised she was that Quinn was still there, sleeping soundly beside her.
Of course, anybody would think Quinn would run away. She slept with another girl—and let's face it, she liked it. With the way her body reacted to Santana, she liked it; loved it even.
Santana remembers seeing Quinn's peaceful slumber. Her hair was gracefully mussed, her breathing was light and steady. It's the softest, most relaxed state Santana had seen Quinn in. It's like Quinn didn't want to be anywhere but there.
It's like she belonged there that morning, right beside Santana; nowhere else but beside her.
Santana smiled at the thought; look who she got laid, Quinn Fabray herself. It would feel like an achievement if it didn't already feel like a dream come true.
Quinn was her first crush, okay? There's no need to explain that because it's Quinn Fabray, she was born to walk the halls of McKinley and crush every heart that stood her way. Sleeping with the Quinn Fabray was every man's—and every secretly gay woman's—dream.
But Santana gave up that dream soon as she and Quinn became bestfriends; and also because of the fact that along with being very beautiful, Quinn is also very straight.
Valentine's was different, though. Quinn had said it was a one-time thing but Santana knows it was a lot more than that.
Santana remembers that night vividly up until this very day. She remembers because Santana believes that it's the first time that she and Quinn made real connection; like for the first time in forever, she knew Quinn Fabray up to her very last layer. And Santana's not even talking about the sex.
It's everything they shared that night: the moments at the non-wedding and the things they talked about after the first and second round. They talked about the future and they laughed at how stupid they've been in high school.
Santana remembers being amazed because lying next to Quinn in that bed is like a microscopic look at Quinn Fabray's mind. It was mind-blowing to look at Quinn in that proximity and see the things she wouldn't let anyone to see in the daylight.
And it's amazing how even more beautiful she is when she lets herself be vulnerable.
Right there and then, Santana realized she really barely knew Quinn. Sure, she's the closest friend Quinn has and that goes without saying.
But even with the years they've spent next to each other, climbing up the ranks of the Cheerios and in Glee Club, none of those years compare to that one night when Quinn just decided to be her true self.
None of those years ever compare to that one night Quinn decided to tear down her walls; she would laugh freely and openly at Santana's corniest jokes and she would banter with a lamer one. Santana took it as a privilege to see Quinn that… free.
But what takes Santana's breath the most is how Quinn just… listened. She listened to Santana's random blabbering. She listened as Santana talked about her dreams.
She paid attention like she's taking notes and Santana could admit that no one—not even Brittany—has looked at Santana like that; like they really want to know her, like they really want to memorize her.
Perhaps, it's what had Santana running that very morning. Perhaps, it's what had sent Santana packing, leaving as fast as she can; ignoring room service, ignoring the breakfast they ordered.
The possibility that they had something—that's what scared Santana the most. Because along with the possibility of them having something is also the possibility of it being nothing.
It's Quinn Fabray.
It couldn't be. It's impossible.
Her thoughts are interrupted when Rachel sits across her, looking at her as if she wants to say something.
"What?" asks Santana, trying to put an annoyed bite to it.
"What's eating up at you Santana?" Rachel asks. "I've never seen you this distraught about something."
You tell me, Santana thinks but instead says, "Nothing."
Rachel shrugs as if it's the answer she's expecting.
"You know you can talk to me anytime, when you're ready to talk about it."
Does she know?
Santana wouldn't put it past Rachel. Despite all their accusations of her being conceited and selfish, Santana knows that Rachel knows her friends like the back of her hand. Maybe, the reason Rachel didn't have a follow-up question for Quinn last night is because she already knows the answer.
"I'm okay, Berry."
"Sure," Rachel says, unconvinced. She stands up and heads to Kurt's side of the apartment to gather her things.
Santana's alone once again just in time for the next song to play.
Everybody's got something they had to leave behind.
It makes her so, so mad, "You have got to be fucking kidding me!"
Rachel only laughs at her.
.
She drops by the diner to tell her boss she's quitting. She and Brittany still have so many things to finalize before the big move.
She's actually surprised herself that bidding everyone goodbye is harder than she thought. She hates waiting tables. She hates the awful men that hit on her and she hates all the over-privileged kids that come here just to visit the place where now-Broadway rising star Rachel Berry used to work at before landing the Funny Girl role.
However, she doesn't hate everyone she has worked with here.
Gunther, the owner, is the most considerate boss she's had. He would let them take a day off when a big audition happens somewhere. He understands that most of the people working here are just waiting for their big break. Nobody comes here to actually wait tables. The diner is like everyone's temporary stop and he understands that.
Morgan, one of the cashier ladies, is the one Santana had grown closest to since Kurt and Rachel left the diner. Morgan left her kid in Colorado with her parents to pursue a dream here. She hasn't been so lucky, save for a couple of small background roles in small productions. She could easily go back home and take over their small lumber business but Morgan isn't anywhere close to quitting. She knows that her kid needs her more that Broadway does but Morgan understands that big dreams require big sacrifices. She's gonna come back to raise her kid but not until she knows she's done, not until she knows she's really over.
There's also Jane, one of the cooks. She's in her mid-20s and unlike everyone else, Jane didn't come here hoping for a Broadway debut. She scored a full ride at the French Culinary Institute just a couple of blocks away from the diner. She hopes to be a cruise chef someday.
Santana admires everyone at the diner. She admires their patience for waiting for their time, for not quitting; for not doing what Santana would be doing in two weeks—giving up, running.
Santana doesn't think she has a heart to wait. Patience has never been her virtue. That's why maybe, New York is not for her.
Sure, Rachel is right. She loves New York.
But that's the thing about love—when you love something, it doesn't automatically learn to love you back.
"Hey," she hears a man's voice approaching from behind her.
She turns to the owner of voice. It's Luke, the bass guitarist from that band she loves to watch every Friday night at the Union Pool, a cool indie music venue up in Williamsburg. "Hey," she greets him.
He's in a band called Mackenzie and the Jetpack Kids, a band Dani had introduced to her back when they were still dating. They play a lot of slightly uptempo indie-folk music that draws a lot of young hipsters to the bar every Friday night. Save for a couple of poser hipsters, the band actually has a solid local following.
"I was hoping I'd find you here," he says as he sits across her, his British accent still obvious even after four years of staying in New York.
"Yeah? Why?" she asks. She looks around and sees no sign of Gunther. Her resignation is taking longer than expected.
"Well, you know Mackenzie is leaving for Detroit, right?"
"Really?"
She didn't know. Mackenzie is the band's vocalist and also the one who writes most of their songs.
"I take it you didn't know."
"I didn't. Why is she leaving?"
"Henry proposed to her and he's taking her back to Detroit to settle down there. She accepted it."
"Wow, that's good for her," Santana says and she feels really excited for Mackenzie and Henry. Those two are perfect for each other. "But what about the band?"
Luke smiles a one-sided smirk, one that sort of reminds Santana of Finn. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about," he says.
Santana only looks at him, waiting for him to continue.
"The vocalist spot will be empty and we want to offer it to you," he says and then smiles, as if he just figured out the solution for the widespread hunger across America.
"What?" Santana says, her heart beating loudly against her chest.
"Remember when we called you up on stage two months ago and you sang—"
"Cool Kids, yeah," she finishes for him.
She remembers that night because she actually had fun. She was with Rachel, Brittany, Kurt, and Blaine that night. The band announced that they want to sing a cover of this song they heard earlier and called for anybody that knows the song.
Of course, Santana knew the song. She loves it.
And when she whispered that she knew it, her friends practically pushed her to the stage and volunteered her to sing with the band.
"You sounded really good and we liked you so much."
"Wow."
"It's Mackenzie's idea to get you to be the band's new singer."
"Wow," she mutters again. Her heart is hammering against her chest because it never really crossed her mind. Santana in an indie band? Really?
What gets her is that a part of her that actually wants to.
But why now?
"So, would you like to, I don't know," Luke smiles, "Santana and the Jetpack Kids doesn't sound so bad."
Santana laughs. "I," she stutters, "I don't know what to say."
"Think about it. We would really—"
"No, I mean," she says with a sigh, "I'd love to but I'm leaving for LA in two weeks."
Disappointment crosses his face, "Oh."
She nods sadly, "Yeah."
"That blows."
"New York isn't really for me."
"Funny 'cause I you seem like the type who would love New York."
Is it that obvious to everyone?
Santana just gives him a sad smile.
"Well," he sighs, "I guess we can't get you to be our singer."
"I'm sorry, Luke."
"Nah," he brushes her off with a small smile, "Just a case of bad timing."
"Probably."
He takes a deep breath and reaches out to the pocket of his sweater. He hands her a card and says, "If LA doesn't work out, that's my number."
"What? No, I'm—"
"We're taking a hiatus for a couple of months anyway. It'd be hard to just go on without Mac and simply replace her with anyone."
"I might stay in LA for good."
"Might," he stresses.
"I don't—"
"Just keep it, Santana," he says and then stands up. "I hope LA works out for you but if doesn't, just remember that New York always has a weird way of showing how it loves us. Opportunities are everywhere, you just have to squint a little to see it."
He walks away after that.
Oh God, why now?
.
After her talk with Gunther and after she had said her teary goodbyes to everyone, Santana grabs a latte and walks by NYU. She stands across the street, clutching the cup with both of her hands.
She thinks about Quinn's email.
She thinks about how the email had two parts. One part has a list of many schools, trainings, and job openings she can venture on just in case she stays. It has everything in it—like art school, medical school, and even the police academy was listed in it.
The second part was solely related to music. The second part of that email contained different music schools complete with pros and cons, the school's reputation, and the travel time from the loft to the school.
Quinn even had a side note that said, I purposely left out any school that will require you to take the train too many times.
Santana laughed at that.
As ridiculous as that email was, it was also concise and detailed—and it was obviously made by someone who knows Santana way too much.
There's a part of that email that had Santana thinking: NYU Steinhardt's BM degree in Music Composition. What got Santana's attention was a note from Quinn that reads:
(If you finish this program at NYU, you could easily take a Master's in Songwriting.)
Reading that from Quinn's email had sent Santana to the school, asking them for a brochure about the program. She read the stupid brochure from cover to cover only to hide it under her pillow because no.
She can't be seriously considering studying at NYU when she's leaving in two weeks.
She made a promise to Brittany and she's not gonna let her down.
Before she walks back to the apartment, she takes one last look at the building; and like a joke, a cab with its windows rolled down passes in front of her. She hears a familiar song on the radio.
Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
"You have got to be kidding me," she mutters under breath as she turns her back on NYU.
Part of her feels like she's turning her back on it all.
.
It's seven in the evening and Santana sits with Kurt and Rachel by the living room as the duo busies themselves with school stuff. Rachel has a habit of staying at the loft as long as she can because she doesn't want to go home to an empty apartment (or a shoe box as Santana would put it).
Santana is watching a rerun of Storage Wars and she tries, hard, not to make anything of the fact that the fuckin' show had grown on her. Quinn mentioned it to her once and now, she finds herself actually watching it whenever it's on.
Quinn and her stupid TV shows.
"Where's Brit?" Kurt asks without looking up from his reading material. It's a script of Macbeth.
"She sent me a text. She's working late tonight."
Kurt just nods and goes back to reading.
They're left to their own businesses for a while until the constant tapping of Rachel's pen on the wooden coffee table finally annoys Santana.
"What is your problem?" she asks Rachel.
Rachel looks up at her and it's when Santana notices that she's bothered by something.
"Nothing," Rachel says instead and turns her attention back to her script.
"Cut the crap, Berry. What's bothering you?"
Rachel looks at her suddenly with a look that Santana recognizes well. It's Rachel's I'm-about-to-ask-you-a-life-altering-question look.
The other brunette takes a deep, long breath before she releases it slowly. It makes Kurt turn to the both of them. He knows something is about to happen and of course, he's not gonna miss it.
Rachel clears her throat, "I know I promised to get off your back about it but I really, really just have to ask, okay?"
Santana just nods. She has an idea what this is about.
"Are you really, really sure you want to move to LA?"
Santana releases a heavy sigh as she rolls her eyes, "Really, Rachel? This again?"
"Just answer it Santana."
"Yes, Rachel. I'm sure."
A heartbroken look crosses Rachel's face.
"Have you been dying to ask me that since this morning?"
"I'm dying to ask you that every single day until you give me an answer I could believe," she counters as she starts gathering her stuff from the table.
"We talked about this. I'm leaving."
"No shit, Blue's Clues," Rachel says, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she gestures at the set of boxes at the corner of the room.
Kurt chuckles at the reference.
"What's with your renewed interest in my decision to leave?"
Rachel shakes her head as she starts stuffing her study materials inside her bag. "You know you keep saying nothing's left for you here in New York and you know what I think?"
"I know what you think, Berry. You've made that very clear so many times."
"Well, let me repeat that to you just in case you don't get it."
"I don't—"
"I think that you're leaving a lot by leaving New York. You feel like there's nothing left here for you because you have not looked close enough to see what you have here. If you just tried harder, you—"
"Wow, Berry. You think I've not tried my best to see what's in store for me here?"
"You wanna know why people are unhappy, Santana? People are unhappy because they're looking in the wrong places to be happy. And if you've looked as hard as you claim to have had, you will stay. It's impossible for you to miss it."
"We're not talking about New York anymore, are we?"
Rachel slings her bag on her shoulder and meets Santana's eyes, determined to make a point, "You tell me, Santana. Are we still talking about New York?"
It's in that moment Santana believes that Rachel knows.
How?
She has no idea.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I made a promise to Brittany and you know me, I don't break promises," Santana lies because it's easier this way.
Rachel laughs bitterly, "See, this is what's eating me up. That it's not about you figuring it out. It's not about you not knowing what you want. It's about going with Brittany. It's about Brittany! It's about you not knowing how it's like to not be with Brittany."
"Stop it—"
"News flash, Santana. You were fine when she left for MIT. You've been good! You survived that's why I don't understand why you're in this again."
"I don't owe you an explanation."
"Oh, I'm not asking for any. I'm not the one who needs one from you."
It's enough for Santana to shut up and look away because she knows exactly who has questions for her. She knows exactly what Rachel is talking about and the other brunette knows it.
"You haven't been happy, Santana," Rachel says before she makes a move toward the door. "And believe me, it's not about you not knowing what to do with your life because you know what you want."
Rachel walks out of the door after that.
Santana just groans loudly and kicks the couch in frustration before disappearing to her room.
Kurt is left there alone without any idea of what just went down.
"What just happened?"
..
Meanwhile in New Haven, Quinn is in her dorm, doing some light reading for tomorrow's lessons. Sitting on the bed just across her is Hanna, browsing Facebook. They're playing random songs from Hanna's phone and soon as the next song plays, it gets Quinn's attention.
Say something I'm giving up on you.
Quinn chuckles, "Really, Han?"
Hanna giggles, "I swear it's a random playlist."
"Random," Quinn repeats, unconvinced. Hanna had been teasing her since she came back from New York. She and Emily have been telling her to just speak about her feelings, maybe, it'll stop her friend from going West.
"Do you ever stop reading?" Hanna asks, changing the topic.
Quinn smiles, "Do you ever logout of Facebook?"
Hanna laughs, "Never. I'm on Facebook even when I'm not on Facebook."
Quinn just laughs and rolls her eyes.
A knock on the door disturbs their peace. It's weird. Nobody ever really visits them after six, not even Emily and even then, Emily doesn't knock. She'd sent them a text if she's coming over and they'd unlock the door for her.
Hanna, with wide eyes says, "If it's my ex, tell him I transferred schools. Tell him I transferred to Seattle."
"Why Seattle?"
Hanna shrugs, "I just wanted to say Seattle."
Quinn just shakes her head smilingly and hops off her bed to open the door.
Once she opens the door, a surprise is waiting for her.
"Hi, Quinn."
Standing in front of her is no other than Brittany.
"Brittany?" she mutters, trying not to let her voice wobble.
She hears Hanna's bed creak, signaling movement. She knows Hanna just perked up from sitting there comfortably because Hanna knows exactly who Brittany is.
"Can we talk?" Brittany asks.
And Quinn decide that this is it.
This is where her story starts to shift.
The songs mentioned in this chapter: (1) Don't Stop by S Club 7 (2) Never Had A Dream Come True by S Club 7 (3) Cool Kids by Echosmith (4) Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy (4) Say Something by A Great Big World
Forgive me for the S Club 7 thing, it's my sister's fault. LOL.
Thoughts?