Quinn and Rachel slowly let the door slam shut, announcing to Santana she wasn't alone; once they walked past the wall, Santana was facing the lockers, and was playing with her loose hair.
"Brittany's looking for you."
"Well, she hasn't looked hard enough."
Quinn rolled her eyes; she was getting tired with Santana, being selfish again
"You're a bitch. She's worried sick."
"Ouch." Santana's tone was mocking; dripping in nothing, no power, no punch; Santana was just too drained to bother with Quinn's little bland talks on a relationship; she had no knowledge nothing about, "What do you want?"
"To talk, Santana."
"I don't wanna talk, Q. Why did you bring her? Berry is the worst person… ever." Santana's almost disgusted glare towards Rachel, earned a smirk from Quinn.
"I thought Mr Schue would be."
"Santana, what's happened? Quinn mentioned a fight, between you and Brittany."
"You told her?" Santana stared at Quinn, in almost betrayal; her eyes burning into Quinn's innocent façade, Quinn shook her head, dismissing the guilty feeling; she immediately felt from the Latina's intense glare.
"I needed help; Britt's scared, San. She's scared she's lost you… for good. You and your stupid fear. She's never going to out you; she's too innocent and caring to do that; even though it is probably the best thing to do… since you're never going to come out of the closet."
Rachel looked at Santana; she looked an emotional mess, clearly not wanting to argue with anyone anymore; but not wanting to admit the truth.
"Santana, you can't hide this… or run from it. You're gay; and whether you like it or not; it's the truth. I'm not saying out yourself today, but soon… you can't deal with this amount of pressure. Brittany's the best person for you; she gets you in ways, I can't even understand…-"
"Enough. You don't know me; you don't know anything about me, Hobbit. I'm not gay… I just… I like…" Santana's expression faltered as she couldn't finish her sentence, her mind blurred with memories of her mother relaying coerced promises to grow up like a good catholic girl, and not to be the one who disobeys her parents' wishes, not to degrade her parents' credible name; the thought burned Santana's body like the severe feeling you get when you burn yourself on a hot surface, the pain is sudden, and strong; but the pain will in time subside; but there will always be a mark, a scar of the kind of disobedience, that kind of raw defiance.
"Girls." Quinn's voice startling her preoccupied mind, Santana met Quinn's eyes, her expression the same as before, not judging, just concerned; she wanted to help; she just had no idea how to get through to Santana, normally she left it to Brittany. A thing now she wished she didn't do. It wasn't fair on Brittany, even though she adored caring for Santana, and basically being exactly what Santana needed; it wasn't her responsibility; "It is nothing to be ashamed of, Santana."
"It's everything to be ashamed of. You have no idea how bad it hurt to do it; but I had to. She never would have listened, unless I told her… exactly what she didn't want to hear. Sex isn't dating, as long as we're in secret we can do anything, if my parents don't hear… I lied to keep us secret. I had to… can you imagine my mother… Can you imagine what she would do to me? My God… My mom will kill me, Quinn." Santana's tone low, almost like a whisper; afraid someone would hear, afraid her mother would hurt; Quinn met Santana's eyes, and silently begged her to continue; "Q, you know what she's like… God, we grew up the same way; programmed to the idea that this is wrong… that it's abnormal… Do you think my parents would accept that? Accept Brittany as my girlfriend? No… I can't. I just… I can't do it."
"You can, San." Brittany's voice louder, echoed off the empty changing room; their eyes met, instantly wanting to comfort the other, but the blatant awkward tension dismissed the thought completely. Brittany wanting to support her best friend, and lover in the way; she always did. Santana groaned in frustration; why was everyone being so difficult? Life isn't great, life sucks. You live, you die and the middle is just a continuous painful experience which overwhelms the few happy occasions in your life. Santana rubbed her hands together, feeling her anger building up towards her parents, to her friends, to even her girlfriend, or ex… Santana wasn't sure; she just needed to be away, away from those eyes, which could easily make her relax, and be completely honest with herself; and to finally admitted what she was so scared to tell everyone else.
"You have no idea. You think they're gonna go to the doctors and get me pamphlets on Lesbian relationships, like Kurt's dad did. No, they're probably send me to live with my grandmother, until the gay's completely out. That's if they don't kill me…" Santana wiping the few tears that had fell, Brittany moved closer wanting to comfort her, Santana put her hand up, "Don't."
"I'll help you." Brittany's voice was strong and honest, knowing she meant it in every way, Santana needed; Santana shook her head, firmly standing by her plan to only rely on herself.
"How? They'll stop us from seeing each other. Brittany, you have no idea what they're like… you're never there when they say how wrong it is… how bad of a sin it is..."
"I'll help you whatever way I can. San, we're leaving for college… that's if I graduate… they can't stop us from being together." Brittany was trying to cling to hope, any hope of keeping Santana, but Santana shook her head, not wanting to hurt Brittany anymore; but wanting her to know the truth.
"I love you; I can't risk losing you even if only until college." Her words even made Brittany feel guilty for not talking to her about her parents and their acceptance to her sexuality, not to mention Rachel who was boasting the other day about her two gay dads.
"Baby, you'll never lose me…"
Santana wiped her cheek lightly, and bit her bottom lip; she looked up at Brittany, and trusted her voice enough not to falter; hearing her mother words build up; she looked down at the floor, knowing she'd break if Brittany stared into her anymore.
"I'll deny it if you tell them. I'll completely deny it…-"
"No you won't." Brittany grabbing Santana's arms, Santana pulled away
"Yes, I will… I know you; and you'll think you will be helping me by telling them, it'll make things completely worst. Please don't." Santana was looking in Brittany's eyes, silently pleading for her to trust her, and let her handle this her way; Brittany nodded, and Santana walked out, past Brittany and her familiar comfortingly citrus smell, away from the hope of a safe relationship, as she opened the door, her eyes met Brittany's; pure blue meeting cloudy brown. A flicker of love past Brittany's eyes contrasting with the pure obvious hurt, that Santana caused, was causing. Santana shook her head, trying to focus her attention on leaving, and not on her blonde; slamming the door after her, she ran through the corridor, and found her way to her car, ignoring the fact Sue would kill her for missing Cheerio practice, but right now; she had bigger problems. Santana parked her car, and slowly climbed out, pulling her cheerio jacket on, she grabbed her bag, and slowly jogged up the stairs, to the front porch, meeting Mr Schue outside her house. He smiled warmly, and stood up, extending his hand; Santana shook her head.
"You should leave. My mom shoots white Spanish boys for fun." Santana's sarcasm shining through
"Santana, can we talk?"
"They don't know… I'm… I can't tell them."
"I gathered as much. Listen, it's about Brittany. She's worried about you, Santana… and so am I. I know you hate me to be here, and to interfere, so here's my number; call me if you wanna talk about anything."
"We already spoke. It's better this way." Santana's tone strong and convincing, until she looked away at the door, the shuffling of feet immediately changed Santana's expression, "Mr Schue, just leave please… They'll assume I'm failing or something."
"I..." Mr Schue met her eyes, silently showing how scared she really was; he nodded, and walked to his car quickly, to avoid upsetting Santana anymore, he drove off, watching Santana in the rear view mirror, she was looking at the number, and slowly slipped into her jacket pocket before opening the door, and meeting her mother who was watching.