Note: So maybe it'd be good if I clarified some things for everyone. So first off. Everything is pretty much canon up until "the slap", except for the fact that Quinn went to Columbia University instead of Yale. Due to my other fics I grew kind of tired of having to work my way around the fact that Quinn lives all the way up in New Haven. This way she's in New York. It's kind of a lazy solution, but oh well, sue me. Second, Quinntana will happen at some point. You're going to have to trust me on that one. Third, due to the fact that I obviously changed some of the circumstances, Santana does not live with Kurt and Rachel. However, I might involve them later on. They are in New York too, after all. Finally, Puck plays a particular role in this fic. Not a huge one per se, but yeah, he does know certain things about Santana's little situation.
And last but not least, again, thank you for your reviews, follows and favorites! With that being said, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Rain was pouring down as Santana quickly made her way past the crowd, earning herself some stares due to the cuts and bruises that were now clearly visible on her face. But she couldn't care less. She needed to get out of Quinn's apartment. Although she appreciated the fact that Quinn had taken care of her, waking up this morning snapped her back into reality. She panicked once she realized again that she just quit her job. It wasn't exactly her dream job – by far – but she was more dependent on it than she'd like to admit. Quinn couldn't see her like this, so she did what she knew how to do best. Run away.
The rain was starting to fall down harder, so she decided to take shelter just until the worst of it would stop. She leaned against a wall, taking a deep breath before fumbling into her bag. She looked for her phone, but her face dropped as soon as she realized it wasn't there.
"Fuck!" she yelled out in frustration, once again catching the attention of some strangers passing by. They looked over but Santana simply shot them a glare, which was all it took for them to turn their heads and keep walking.
She must've left her phone at Quinn's apartment. How could I be so stupid? She thought to herself, anxiously running her hands through her hair. She needed to get it back. What if Puck called? What if…
"Shit, shit, shit," Santana kept repeating. How was she going to get her phone back without stumbling into Quinn? She couldn't face her, especially not after leaving without a word. She did feel bad that she didn't even leave her a note or anything. She just disappeared, and surely Quinn was going to be mad at her. Despite the fact that she dreaded going back, she knew she had to.
As the sky cleared up a bit, Santana reluctantly walked back into the direction of Quinn's apartment. Once she reached the building, she stopped in front of the entrance. She didn't want to go in. Even though she knew she didn't have a choice, she figured she could at least smoke one cigarette to calm her down. She was going to need it. She pulled the pack out of her bag before remembering that she threw away her lighter. She let out a groan. Jesus can you give me break?!
"Smoking's bad for you, ya know."
Santana looked up at hearing the strange man's voice. She was about to snap at him but then she realized he was holding out a lighter. Some irony.
"Uhm, thanks…" She replied with a frown.
"No problem," the man said while offering her a timid smile. After Santana lit her cigarette she returned the lighter to him. Then he pulled out his own pack of cigarettes.
"Hypocritical, much…" Santana mumbled while blowing out a puff of smoke, already feeling more relieved.
The man looked down with a subtle laugh. "I just offered you my lighter, are you always this nice?"
Santana let out a small laugh in response. It kind of reminded her of Quinn when she asked her if she was always this nice to people who help her out. Guess I just can't help it.
"Besides. Smoking is bad for you," the man continued.
"So why do you do it?" Santana asked, feeling a little intrigued by him.
"Because, if I stressed over all things that are bad for me I'd go crazy. Now that's bad," he answered while inhaling, causing his voice to sound a bit raspy.
Santana smiled at this. "That's some fucked up logic. But it makes sense. I guess."
"Well what about you?" The man asked. "You seem too pretty to be smoking."
Santana cocked an eyebrow. Somehow he seemed to ignore the bruises on her face, which she was silently grateful for. "Are you trying to hit on me or something? Because if you are, that's a real cheesy move."
The man shook his head. "I'm not. I answered your question, so it's only fair for me to expect you to return the favor, isn't it?"
She narrowed her eyes at him before looking away. "It just calms me down when I get anxious," she finally admitted.
"Why are you anxious?" he asked, now looking at Santana. Strangely enough with a rather blank expression.
Santana hesitated before answering. "I'm about to face someone I really don't want to see."
Usually she wouldn't say this so easily. Yet, she found a certain comfort in talking to strangers. No expectations. No personal vendetta's. No knowledge except for the things she told them.
"Then why are you going?" the man asked.
"Left my phone there…" Santana admitted.
"I see." The man let out a subtle laugh before he checked his watch. "I have to go, my colleague is waiting for me. It was nice talking to you…"
"Santana," she finished for him.
The man smiled. "Goodbye Santana. And good luck."
He flicked away his cigarette and with that, he crossed the street. Well that was weird.
Eventually she shrugged it off. She had bigger things to deal with. She dropped the remainder of her burning cigarette onto the ground, extinguishing it with the nose of her shoe. She took one more deep breath before entering the building, making her way up to the third floor.
When she found herself in front of Quinn's door she raised her hand to knock, but she paused mid-air. What was she going to say? She couldn't just walk in and grab her phone right? She let out a sigh. She'd come up with something, she just had to get her phone. A moment later she finally found the courage to knock.
At first, no one answered. Maybe Quinn wasn't home? But before Santana could turn around, she was stopped by the sound of the door opening.
"Well look who came back."
Santana looked up at Quinn, as her eyes were met with hazel ones. It didn't take long for her to figure out Quinn was mad. She had every right to be, Santana knew that. Yet she couldn't bring herself to apologize. Because if she hadn't left her phone, she wouldn't have come back in the first place.
"I just… went out for a walk," Santana lied. It was a horrible lie, she knew Quinn would see through it in a second, but she had to try. She had to say… something. It sure as hell beat the truth. The truth was that she was a coward, and she just ran away.
Quinn let out a sarcastic laugh. "With all your stuff? Come on Santana, that's bullshit and you know it!"
Santana kept a straight face. "Okay, I can see you're mad. Can I just have my phone? I promise I won't bother you anymore, and then we can go back to the way things were."
"Wha – Are you serious?!" Quinn asked in a loud voice as her anger startled Santana. "No! What makes you think that – I… Santana you just left! Am I supposed to act like nothing ever happened?!" She shook her head. She couldn't believe Santana was being this ignorant.
"I wish you would," Santana replied in a soft voice.
Quinn calmed down a bit, realizing that Santana wasn't really being ignorant.
Quinn took in the sight in front of her. Her exterior might scream bitch, but Quinn knew Santana long enough to know that there was more underneath. Even though sometimes, she forgets. "Santana… Just… Come in."
Santana seemed a little conflicted. "I don't know if that's –"
"Please. You owe me that," Quinn cut her off.
Santana offered her a slight nod. She entered Quinn's living room, once again sitting down on the blonde's couch. If it weren't for the circumstances, she might actually have enjoyed this. Quinn's couch was soft, and it was… kind of nice, not to be alone for a change.
"Do you want something to drink?" Quinn asked in a neutral tone as she walked over to the fridge.
Santana shrugged. "Water's fine, I guess."
Quinn didn't respond. She just opened the cabinet and grabbed two glasses, filling them with water. She walked over to Santana and offered her the glass.
"Thanks…" Santana replied, still feeling a little uncomfortable.
Quinn sat down next to her. "Why did you leave?"
Santana shrugged again. "Just… 'cause."
Quinn stared at the girl for a little while longer before giving in. Santana wasn't going to talk. Quinn sighed. "How's the…" Quinn pointed at Santana's side.
"Sore," Santana admitted. "Look, Quinn… I don't want you to think I was being ungrateful. I really do appreciate what you did for me."
"You sure have a strange way of showing it," Quinn couldn't help but sound a little bitter.
"I know."
Quinn looked up Santana, not expecting her to admit to it. "Santana… why can't you just talk to me? We may not be so close now, but we used to be friends. I just want you to realize, I still care."
Santana's expression softened, but she didn't respond. She didn't know what to say. If she was being completely honest, she missed having Quinn as her friend. Despite their constant struggles – or maybe even because of them – Quinn knew Santana inside out. Which was what scared her most.
Quinn reached over to the coffee table next to the couch, grabbing Santana's phone before handing it to her.
"Thanks Q," Santana replied with a small smile.
"You should know," Quinn swallowed before continuing. "Puck called, said you need to call him back as soon as possible."
Santana's face immediately fell. She quickly turned to face Quinn with a raged expression. "You answered my phone?"
"You wouldn't tell me anything… So…"
"So you decide to invade my privacy?! That's messed up Quinn!" Santana yelled, not bothering to hold back.
"Santana he didn't even tell me anything! Besides, you are the one who was stupid enough to leave your phone here anyway!"
"And that gives you the excuse to answer it?! That's just… Damn it Quinn!" Santana exclaimed angrily while running her hands through her hair in frustration.
Quinn frowned as she realized that something else was going on. Santana didn't just seem angry, she seemed scared. She couldn't help but think it was some kind of silent plea for help.
"Santana, just –"
"You had no right!" Santana yelled out before standing up. Quickly she grabbed her stuff. Suddenly Quinn's cozy apartment felt like a hostile environment. Just when she was starting to trust Quinn… She shook her head, she was stupid.
"You are not leaving again!" Quinn spoke up when she saw Santana started pacing for the door.
"Watch me," Santana replied in cold steady voice, shooting Quinn one last glance before slamming the door closed behind her.
Song / Chapter Title: Hang Me Up To Dry by Cold War Kids