Random Oneshots Chapter 10: Those Unspoken Words, a glee fanfic

I love you, Quinn.

Four simple words. Four simple words that Santana can't say- no, that Santana shouldn't say. She shouldn't even want to say it.

But she does, and she hates it just as much as she loves Quinn.

Now, as she lays facedown beside Quinn, breathing heavily after hours of moaning Quinn's name over and over again, she feels the urge to say those four fucking words for the millionth time in her life. The small size of her bed doesn't help at all, for she can't do anything to avoid having skin contact with Quinn. Quinn's bed would have been a lot more spacious and softer, if only two holy hypocrites weren't lurking in her home. Both of the girls wouldn't want to know how Quinn's parents would react if they would hear their sweet, innocent Quinnie whimpering Santana's name, let alone if they would see their divine, little Mary's fingers inside of another woman. God knows they'll kill Quinn even just if they get a glimpse of Quinn holding hands with Santana.

They started to have "benefits" when Quinn helped Santana to get over her gay panic. Her rubbing Santana's back, in some way, turned into cuddling which, in some way, turned into kissing which, in some way, turned into making out which, in some way, turned into making love—frequently. This gave birth to an agreement between them. They'll let each other crawl onto one another to bed without any question asked, but there'll be absolutely no conversation about it. After they've had their clothes right back on, they'd have to act like nothing happened. But that was never a problem. All they needed was the sex to forget about everything just for a little while. They both needed—still need—it, even when Santana finally had Brittany.

Don't get her wrong. Santana does love Brittany. She didn't lie when she said that nobody could ever love Brittany more than she does. It's just that she loves Quinn—Santana wouldn't dare use the word "more"—too, but in a different way. You see, Brittany will always be her soulmate. Everything's just easy between the two of them. They didn't need to talk about things; Brittany wouldn't understand half of what Santana has to say, anyway. Brittany would always believe everything—do everything- Santana would say, and Santana likes that. Santana likes being the one in command, the HBIC.

But with Quinn? Oh, a relationship between them could be messy. They would have to talk about everything, especially about their emotions. And Santana doesn't want that. Santana hates feelings. Feelings suck. Talking about feelings sucks. Spending sleepless nights analyzing feelings sucks. And with Quinn, Santana wouldn't always have everything in her way. She would argue. She'd always speak out her own opinion. She would try to have everything her way like Santana would.

So, being friends with benefits was a great idea. Well, should have been a great idea. They both enjoyed each other's touch very much, and nobody except them would ever know about their, cough, "activities", so it's a win-win situation. At least, it would have been, if only Santana never fell in love with Quinn.

Who could blame her though? Ignoring the teenage pregnancy, car accident, and emotional problems, Quinn's simply perfect. Blonde hair, fair and soft skin, hazel eyes, wonderful curves, a strong personality, and a hot attitude—these make everyone want to be with Quinn, or at least get into her pants. Their nightly adventures don't help Santana push away her feelings either. The truth is Santana has always been in love with Quinn. She's loved her first, the first reason she's ever questioned her sexuality.

But then again, she knows her feelings for the blonde will never be requited. At least, she thinks so. Besides, Quinn isn't gay. Quinn can't be gay. And no, she thinks their late-night escapades don't prove anything, either. It's just that Quinn has been through a lot. She's the one who suffered the most, who's been through the most troubles. She's been knocked up at an early age, she's lost her baby, she's been kicked out of her "holy" Christian home, she's been dumped for a singing midget, she's turned herself into a freakishly hot punk, she's almost lost her legs in an accident. She can't be a fag, too. That'll make her the biggest wreck of mankind, the biggest loser of all losers.

So, again, here she is, lying facedown next to Quinn. Facedown, not only because she collapsed due to extreme exhaustion, but she also needed to bury her face into her pillow. She needs to cover her face—her mouth—because maybe, just maybe, it will help her keep a four-letter sentence from slipping out of her tongue. That doesn't work, though, so she lets herself whisper it over and over again against her pillow, soft enough that if Quinn would ever hear her, she'll only hear a muffled, unclear noise.

I love you, Quinn.

She repeats them over and over again, not even stopping when tears started to fall from her eyes. Thankfully, Quinn would never notice. She's already dozed off because of intense fatigue after she turned her back to Santana.

I love you, Quinn.

She spends all night whispering to her pillow, not even bothering to give in to her exhaustion and sleep, just because she knows she can never say it enough.

I love you, Quinn.

She says it until the sun rises, as if it would make her situation any easier.

I love you, Quinn.

She only stops for a moment when she feels Quinn's arms encircle her waist and Quinn's warm breath against her shoulder. "Today's the day," she barely hears.

Yes, today's the day. The day when their four years of hardwork would finally pay off. The day of graduation. The day when they have to finally part. The day when they have to go their separate ways, to chase their own dreams. For Quinn, the path to Yale's the road she has to take; for Santana, it's the one to UCLA. The thought of leaving Quinn pains Santana so much that she almost doesn't even remember that she's leaving Brittany, too, since she has to repeat her last year in high school.

Today's her last chance to confess what she truly feels. The last chance she knows she'll never take.

And she doesn't. She just stays in bed until Quinn has finished showering and closes her bedroom door to race back to her house. She just stays in bed, still facedown, murmuring the same, old sentence that leaves a bitter taste in her tongue with each word that rolls out of her mouth.

I love you, Quinn.

But she does go to the ceremony, a second late, with an emotionless expression all throughout the ceremony. She doesn't even acknowledge anyone's presence, though, nor does she say goodbye to anyone. Not to Quinn, not even to Brittany. She just leaves the place as fast as she can after she's gotten her diploma, not even bothering to fake a smile at her proud parents, who are thankfully wise enough not to ask Santana about it. She doesn't even attend the after-party for everyone at Glee. She doesn't even leave her room the whole summer, nor open her cellphone, for that matter.

She just waits until it's time to go, time to leave Lima, time to do everything not to be a Lima loser. She leaves without any intention of looking back, of turning back. She just wants to forget everything she's leaving, everything in Lima, everything especially Quinn.

She doesn't even try to know that Quinn's been struggling the whole time, too, forcing herself from uttering the same words Santana's afraid for her to hear.