I sat next to Blaine and Quinn in the Taxi to the chapel. My leg was shaking nervously, and even my weak attempt at pretending I was keeping in rhythm with the faint Bob Marley squeaking out the driver's radio couldn't fool the two. Blaine pushed on my thigh, forcing it to stay still and looked at me. "It's okay. It'll be alright."

I nodded, though we all knew it was lie. It wouldn't be alright. It will be terrible. It will be a bloodbath if I got my was. But I wouldn't. We all knew that, too.

"This is your place, right?" the driver said through a thick Jamaican accent.

"Yes, thank you, sir." Quinn replied, handing him the correct amount and opening her door, sliding out and offering me a hand. I refused it and got out by my self.

My heels clicked on each step I took, and the sound echoed in my head. We reached big, stone steps. I walked up. Click. Another step. Click. Step. Click. Step. Click. Until I could see through the doors. The inside was big, with a tall ceiling and a grand aisle. The pews were oak to match some crosses in the front. There was pink lilies and yellow daffodils decorating the aisle, the walls and the alter. Many people filled the church, a small handful I could recognize. Kurt ran up to the three of us, kissing Blaine before greeting Quinn and me.

"You guys will be sitting over here, next to me and some other high school friends. He lead us to the fifth pew, where Puck, Alyssa, Zoe and Artie were already settled.

Puck looked over to me with a child-like innocence and smiled. His hands rolled and Alyssa nodded. "He says he's happy to see you." I shuffled into the row and bent over to wrap my arms around the boy. My lips puckered and I pressed a small kiss to his cheek, which turned a bright pink. Alyssa shot me a glare, but I ignored it and turn around to see Quinn staring at him, not hiding the pain clearly written on her face.

I turned my attention to an older woman walking toward me. She was clad in a violet dress and an off-white jacket. Her face was bright despite her age, blue eyes shining and blonde hair graying slightly. She approached me with open arms and a wide smile, one I couldn't help but reciprocate.

"Mrs. Pierce! I haven't seen you in ages!" she hugged me and laughed. "I told you to call me Pheobe, Santana. You look beautiful! As always, of course."

Growing up, your mom was always the cool mom. She was the one who sent in cookies every Friday at lunch in elementary school, and the one we called in high school when we were about to pass out from alcohol at parties and couldn't drive. More importantly, your mom accepted me. Accepted us. Sure, my family was cool with it, but she embraced it. She was one of the few adults I loved.

"I'm glad you came. It's hard, for you." she said, not asking me but instead telling. I looked down. "it's hard for me, too. Bradley's nice, Brittany seems to love him-" I swallowed, and I felt pressure building up near my sinuses.

"-but not like she was when she was with you." she patted me on the shoulder and left as Blaine pulled me over to sit, as everyone in the chapel followed.

An organ starts to play, the "Wedding March" wheezing out and filling the room. Blaine hummed the tone as every who was in the wedding got in place. The man I assumed to be Bradley stood at the front, next to a shorter blonde man.

Bradley was a tall muscular man, his flexing arms pushing the sleeves of his black tuxedo. He had dark brown hair that was short and stuck up a bit. Emerald orbs shined through squinted eyes looking at the entrance, and everyone stood to see.

There you were, clad in a bright white gown that hung tightly around your midsection, and spread out toward the bottom, where the train followed you. Your blonde hair was pinned up under a vail laced with sparkles, except for your bangs, which were brushed to the side of your forehead. The pearly eyeshadow shimmered under the light, making your blue eyes prominent on your face.

A familiar older man was by your side, your elbows linked. He wore a pink rose on his lapel, and it matched your pink lips, currently beaming at Bradley. I swallowed a large lump in my throat, and looked down. Though my dress was fine, I tried to make myself focus on smoothing out a fine wrinkle.

Mr. Pierce unhooked your arm from his and placed a small kiss on your cheek. You giggled softly and stepped up next to your groom.

The room fell silent. A wrinkled man with skin almost translucent stood between them, holding a well-worn book and reading from it. At this point, the crowd was seated and listened intently to what the priest said, but I just stared down at my shoes.

In high school, I had been slammed into lockers and pelted with ice. I was used by every boy and took orders from Coach like she was my god. I starved myself. I was kicked out of my own Grandmother's house for being who I was. I was hurt constantly, and though I acted strong, the girl I knew was crippling inside. I felt like I was dying every single day, but that pain couldn't come close to what I felt right now. My first love, my one love, was getting married right in front of me.

And all I could do is watch.