A/N: Emotionally exhausting chapter is exhausting. Bear with me :) As always, thank you for your continued praise and following, and special thanks to Frogs, my amazing beta. If you have questions, message me on tumblr.
Chapter Ten - I'm The Bravest Person She Knows
Santana was glad when Mrs. Pierce had texted Brittany after breakfast, asking her to pick up some chocolate milk. Santana promised to call her later, wanting to shower and clean up a little before her mother had a mental breakdown because she was sure her and Brittany had left a blanket unfolded in the living room from last night. She walked Brittany to the door once she came back downstairs from getting dressed, a sly smirk on her face that Santana couldn't read. She wanted to kiss her goodbye, but she wasn't about to risk it with her mother in the adjacent room. She settled for an awkward side hug, Brittany giggling in her ear. When the front door closed behind her, Santana turned and hurried toward the stairs.
But as soon as she passed the kitchen, her mother was there waiting. "Santana," she hissed with a tight-lipped smile. Santana's skin crawled. She was half-tempted to ignore it and proceed to the safety of her shower, but she knew her mother would follow her.
Santana's hands fidgeted in front of her as she turned and walked back into the kitchen. She rubbed against the knuckle of her thumb, her other fingers interlocking and squeezing together. But she couldn't stop them from shaking with slight nerves. So she balled them into fists at her side, composing herself because there was no way in hell she was going to give her mother the satisfaction of knowing she was nervous. She stood in the doorway, watching as her mother sipped at her coffee like it was a glass of vodka and cranberry, a slight curl of her lips around the rim.
She motioned with her eyes for Santana to sit back down at the table. And Santana obliged without a fight, slumping into the chair opposite her mother.
She waited. She watched as her mother watched her. She watched as her mother poured herself another cup. And she just waited.
She knew her mother was up to something. And she knew she was testing her. She wanted to see how far she could push Santana before she spoke up. And Santana knew that if she got an attitude with her mother, it would only lead to trouble. She had to remain calm and collected. So she kept her mouth shut and sat still.
"Do you remember Jean from work?" Her voice was cold, and her smile was fake. Santana narrowed her eyes and waited for the point, her arms crossed over her chest. Her mother's eyes dropped to look her over. "She helped with your Quinceañera." Her smile tugged at her lips like a snake, slithering its way into place as she waited for Santana to acknowledge her.
"I remember. What does – "
"She was telling me the other day how her son got a full ride to play football next year." She continued, interrupting Santana as she picked up her mug again.
Santana shifted in her seat, her nails digging into her arms. What did that have to do with anything? Didn't her mother want to persuade her to join Cheerios? What did some loser playing college football have to do with her? Was she supposed to be impressed because the guys at McKinley would never see the inside of a college football stadium?
When her mother didn't continue, Santana cocked an eyebrow in disinterest. "And I'm supposed to care because…"
"You're supposed to care so you'll have something to talk about on your date." Her mother stated calmly, as if it were the most natural and obvious thing for her to say.
And Santana couldn't help the shock that splashed across her face. That was the last thing she thought her mother was going to say. Her head was spinning, her heart was thumping, her stomach was swirling, and she mostly felt sick. Her palms were instantly clammy against her arms, and she fought like hell to keep her face as stoic and unfazed as possible. "Excuse me?" Her voice was raw and she didn't recognize it as her own. But she watched her mother closely, trying to decipher what was really going on.
"Your date. With Brad." Her mother clarified, almost annoyed, and Santana wanted to scoff at the fact that her mother was acting like she should be the one annoyed in the first place. Because she was pretty sure it wasn't her being set up on a blind date against her will.
"I don't have a date with anyone in the near future, let alone with some kid name Brad." Santana spat, hugging her arms closer to her chest. There must be vodka in her mother's coffee if she truly thought that she was going on a date with her coworker's son.
"Actually you do. He'll be picking you up on Friday." Her mother sat her mug on the table, crossed her arms in front of her, and smiled. And Santana shivered. She had never seen her mother act this way. They've had their fights, maybe a little more than a normal mother-daughter relationship, but never had Santana ever seen her mother like this. Her eyes were black and oval, narrowed and wide at the same time. Her cheeks were rosy with warmth, and Santana couldn't decide if it came from the heat or something more. Her mouth was pressed tight but formed into a smile that Santana wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.
For the first time in her life, Santana was actually terrified of her mother, and she wasn't exactly sure why. And that was the part that made her shiver.
She didn't understand, and she hated not knowing. She hated not being able to know the reasons behind someone's behavior. She hated it. And she hated it more when it was directed towards her.
The feeling of being sick bubbled in her stomach, and she wanted to be free from her mother's gaze, but she couldn't move. So she fought back. She wasn't going to be like those stupid birds that stick their heads in the ground and think they're safe just because they can't see the danger coming.
"I'm pretty sure the era of blind dates was two centuries ago. And since I'm neither Indian nor a thirteen-year-old, I think I can pick my own dates just fine."
"When was your last date Santana?" She asked coldly, and Santana knew she had dug herself into a hole she couldn't climb out of. She couldn't answer that because she knew it would give her mother the exact answer she was looking for. The last date she was on involved Brittany, and she's not even sure if that was called a date in the first place. And the last boy she went on a date with was Puck, and that was almost two years ago. Even Sam hadn't taken her on a date.
She gulped, her mind racing to find an answer to satisfy her mother. What did it matter when her last date was? Did her mother actually care that much about her social life? "I…uh," she coughed, trying to clear her throat. "I was dating Dave at the end of last year." She lied, hoping not to sound as scared as she felt.
Her mother eyed her over, judging her, and Santana felt defenseless. Like she had been sent to battle without a weapon or a shield.
When her mother's eyes returned to hers, she smiled, small and bright. "Well then consider it nonnegotiable. It'll be good for you to get out. Who knows, maybe he'll be the one." Her mother added with a wink. A fucking wink. And Santana wanted to strangle her.
She opened her mouth to protest, but she couldn't find the words. Excuses and lies danced across her tongue, tickling her throat and begging to be released. But nothing came out. She wanted to scream and say that she was sort of dating Brittany, and that she loved her, and that was why she couldn't go on a date with some stupid boy that her mother deemed suitable.
But those words were deep in her gut, not even threatening to come out.
Tears stung at the back of her eyes, and she fought with everything she had to keep them inside. She would never forgive herself if she cried right now.
Before she could fight with herself to do something, her mother got up from the table and ended the conversation. No room for further debate. And Santana wasn't even sure she had an argument to give her mother.
Her tears were spilling from her eyes the second she stepped in her room. She tried to hiccup them back, to keep desperate sobs from wracking her body. The backs of her hands scraped at her eyes, swiping the moisture away before it could roll down her cheeks.
She was naked before she realized she even started taking off her clothes. The shower was running, and the bathroom was steaming up with hot air. Too hot for a summer day.
She avoided the mirror. She knew if she saw herself right now she wouldn't be able to stop crying.
She stepped into the shower, and moved under the spray of the scalding water. It burned her skin. Shocking her with the reminder that nothing had changed. She was still scared. She was still not ready. She was still in the closet. She was still a coward. She was still lying.
Her skin turned red in seconds, but she stayed underneath the water. And when the physical pain matched her emotional pain, she finally allowed herself to cry. She gave in, her body heaving and cracking with broken sobs. Her tears mixed with the hot water, running down her burning skin and sifting through the drain at her feet. Her hands gripped at her skin before supporting her body against the tiled walls of the shower, her legs threatening to give out beneath her.
She cried until her eyes burned. Until her body ached. Until her skin felt raw.
And then she cried a little more.
Only when the water turned cold did Santana notice she had stopped crying. She felt drained, yet still heavy. And when she shut the water off, she realized she didn't even wash her hair or body.
She wrapped herself in a towel and stepped from her bathroom, standing in her room unsure what to do.
She still felt sick, and she wanted to call Brittany. But she didn't know what to say to her. Would Brittany be upset? Would she be okay with one date just to please her mother? Would she be disappointed again?
She dressed in a daze, slipping a pair of jean shorts and a tank top over her burned skin, wincing when the fabric agitated it. She didn't bother drying her hair, letting the wet strands cling to her bare shoulders.
She knew she couldn't keep this to herself much longer. She knew she had to find the strength to finally be honest. She knew this. But it didn't make the idea of it any more appealing.
What if she just went on one date? She could get her mother off her back, and she could just tell Brittany he was just a friend.
No. She wouldn't lie to Brittany. She couldn't. She wouldn't take two steps forward and three steps back. She just couldn't.
She also promised Brittany she wouldn't push her away anymore. She promised. And that was something Santana really wanted to keep.
She needed more time to tell her mother. And she just hoped Brittany would understand that.
She walked toward her dresser for her phone, ready to call Brittany and tell her. But the banner across her screen when she unlocked it, signaling the presence of a new message, stared up at her.
Britt
Check under ur pillow ;)
Santana's brows rose in confusion, a small smile on her face as she walked back toward her bed and flipped over her pillow. Underneath sat a new letter, her name scrawled across the front of the folded paper in Brittany's cursive writing. She chuckled despite herself, wondering how she could ever doubt Brittany when she always managed to surprise her, and give her things exactly when she needed them.
She also wondered when Brittany had the time to write her a letter, considering they had woken up together and ate breakfast together before she left. She reasoned that the only time Brittany had been alone in her room since waking up was when she changed to go home.
Santana had stayed in the kitchen with her mother.
And the thought that Brittany had taken that little amount of time to scribble down words of love made Santana's eyes water with new tears. Happy tears.
Santana sat on the edge of her bed and unfolded the paper. Droplets of water dripped from the ends of her wet hair, rolling down her back as they soaked into her tank top.
Dear Santana,
Morning beautiful, even though we've been up for a while. Breakfast was yummy, and it reminded me of that time from Cheer Camp freshman year. Do you know what I'm talking about? We were in charge of making breakfast for everyone, and we had no idea what we were doing. You had pancake batter everywhere, and my bacon kept burning. And every time I got a good piece, you ate it because you said it smelled so good.
I remember when you had some batter on your nose, and when I reached to wipe it off, you leaned forward and kissed me. And it was the first time you had kissed me in public. Yeah, nobody was there, but you still did it. And I remember how happy I was. You were so cute when you smiled after, like it was normal for us to kiss just because. But we had never done that before. And I could tell then how shy and nervous you were, but you tried to act all cool about it.
Anyways, you eventually showed me how to make french toast, because you said your mom always made it on Sunday mornings. I asked why we didn't just do that in the first place, and you looked at me like I had four heads. Which would be really cool. Do you know how much kissing I could do with four heads? That would be so awesome.
Your mom seemed kind of weird this morning, maybe she didn't sleep well. I know when I don't sleep well, I'm kind of cranky in the morning. But rejoining Cheerios does sound fun. I know I've missed it a little. Maybe Coach won't be as bad this year. I hope she doesn't try and punish us for quitting last year. I hate being a quitter, but she wanted to shoot me out of that canon.
I just wanted to say I love you. I feel like I don't tell you enough. And you need to be reminded that I do. Because someone as awesome as you should be told how awesome they are.
All the time.
And I know you love me too. And even though I can't show everyone else how awesome you are yet, I know you're trying now. I know you're getting there.
I know you're still scared, but I'm so proud of you. My mom talks about you all the time now, which is weird, cause like she's known you forever. But now she acts like you're so special, which you are, but I tried explaining to her that just because we're whatever we are (are we dating?) doesn't mean you're a different person.
When you're done showering and stuff, come over. And we can hang out at my house, where you're always welcome, and free to just be you :)
And just so you have another piece of paper to stick on your closet door, to remind you how special you are every day.
Reason: You're the bravest person I know.
See you soon.
Sincerely yours,
Brittany S. Pierce
Santana folded the paper back up and dropped it to her bed. Her hands were shaking, and she could hear her heart beating in her ears. Brittany had so much faith in her. Too much. And that's why she knew she couldn't lie to Brittany about Friday. She had to tell her, and tell her why she had to do it.
Brittany was wrong about one thing. She was not brave.
And she was too scared to tell her mother she couldn't go on the date. Not without a valid excuse. And Santana still wasn't ready to tell her parents the truth.
Or maybe Brittany could help her think of an excuse to tell her mother. Brittany was good at making up stuff.
Santana jumped off her bed and walked to her desk, pulling out a piece of tape. Grabbing the letter from her bed as she walked to her closet, she taped the entire paper to the door, underneath all the other reasons Brittany had given her over the past few months.
Ignoring the nagging feeling in her gut, she focused on getting to Brittany, and having her help with her ridiculous mother.
"What's cookin' good lookin'?" Brittany beamed as Santana entered her room. She sat with her legs crossed on her bed, Lord Tubbington sprawled at her feet. And the smile she had plastered across her face was infectious, and Santana couldn't help the way she smiled in return. She felt better just seeing Brittany.
She dropped her keys and phone on Brittany's dresser and strode to the bed. She definitely couldn't help it when she pecked Brittany's lips. Quick and sweet.
"What was that for?" Brittany smiled wide, her eyes searching Santana's as the bed dipped next to her with Santana's added weight.
"Because you're you." Santana admitted honestly, leaning forward and kissing her again. Brittany giggled against her lips, pressing closer to Santana's mouth in the process.
"I like this side of you." Brittany smiled when Santana sat back, looking around the room to see what Brittany had been doing before she got there. When she came up empty, she focused her attention back on Brittany, smiling like she had been caught when she realized Brittany had said something.
"Hmm?" She tilted her head, eyes smiling when Brittany looked at her with that look that made her feel like she was special. Like she could do no wrong. It was impossible not to feel invincible when someone was looking at her the way Brittany was looking at her. How could one person make someone feel so special? But that's how Brittany made her feel. And Santana's smile faltered a little when she realized what she had to tell Brittany.
"I said I like this side of you because you look so happy." Brittany repeated, fingers walking up Santana's bare calf and tapping against her knee.
"Well I hope you continue to like me after I say what I have to say." Santana breathed, her dimple showing when one corner of her mouth lifted slightly. Brittany's smile fell, cocking her head in confusion as her fingers continued to run over the bones of Santana's knee. "I, uh -" Santana coughed, eyes lowering for a second until she found the right words to say. "My mom set me up on a date on Friday."
She watched as Brittany's face scrunched before falling, eyes searching for the punch line to a joke that didn't exist. When Santana's face remained stoic, pleading with mocha orbs for Brittany to understand, Brittany's fingers stilled on Santana's leg. "What?" Brittany asked, voice dripping with confusion.
She didn't understand. Was there a joke she didn't get? Her mind was racing with thoughts she couldn't follow. Did Santana want to go on a date? Was she waiting for her to ask her out on one? And since she didn't, did she go looking somewhere else? Brittany was so confused. She thought things were getting better.
Santana could feel Brittany's hand shaking against her knee, and she draped her hand over it to quiet it. She felt like the worst person in the world. She hated seeing Brittany look like this. Like she was disappointed, confused, and hurt all at the same time. And it was a whole lot worse when that face was because of Santana.
"Are you…I thought…am I not enough?" Brittany asked, her voice so small and quiet, breaking at the end as she tried to hide her disappointment.
Santana squeezed Brittany's hand beneath hers, her other coming up to cup Brittany's cheek. "Brittany, you are more than enough." Santana stated firmly, eyes never wavering as she tried to make Brittany believe that above anything else. "You are perfect." Santana half-smiled, leaning forward and pressing her lips to Brittany's to reaffirm her point.
"Then I don't understand." Brittany squeaked, her lips pressed tight as she tried to think why Santana was saying this, and why she was doing this.
Santana let out a puff of air in frustration. "It's my mother. She thinks it'll be good for me for some reason. Believe me, I don't want to go." Santana stroked the back of Brittany's hand. When she saw Brittany's eyes flicker with slight hope, she swallowed and continued, fingers wrapping around Brittany's wrist. "I was actually hoping you could help me think of an excuse to get out of it."
"Really?" Brittany's tone was louder and softer, less broken. When Santana nodded and smiled, Brittany returned it easily. "Just tell her you don't want to."
"Have you met my mother? She doesn't really care about what I want." Santana huffed out a chuckle, her hand dropping from Brittany's cheek to grab Brittany's hand and cradle it between both of hers.
"Say you have to wash your hair. I use that all the time." Brittany smiled as she shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh really?" Santana smirked. "So when you said you had to shower the other day, you were actually just avoiding me. Good to know." Santana smiled wider when Brittany giggled, her fingers tickling at Santana's knee.
"Not with you. I always want to hang out with you." Brittany teased, sucking the corner of her mouth in as she smiled. "How bout something to do with glee club?"
"I don't think that'll work. She hates that I'm in glee club." Santana pursed her top lip, trying to think of something that would be good enough to get her out of the date. She was pulled from her nonexistent imagination when she felt Brittany remove her hand from Santana's knee. Her eyes widened in confusion as Brittany shifted, until she settled down on her bed, her head resting in Santana's lap. Santana immediately smiled, her hands running through Brittany's hair.
"I'm sad and sorry." Brittany mused a little later, comfortable to lay in silence with Santana's fingers doing magical things to her hair.
Santana's hands stilled, her eyes narrowing as she wondered why on Earth Brittany would be sad or sorry right now. "Why?"
Brittany expelled a puff of air, tugging on her bottom lip with her teeth, her brow and nose scrunched adorably. "Because. I'm sad that you can't tell your mom the truth. And I'm sorry I'm sad about it."
Santana's heart swelled with guilt because Brittany should definitely not be apologizing. She had every right to want Santana to be honest with her mother. To tell her that the reason she couldn't go on the date was because she was in love with someone else. With Brittany. And Brittany had every right to want that.
Santana should be the one apologizing. She should be the one sad because she was making Brittany wait so long. Santana eyed Brittany curiously as she turned in her lap, and brought her own hand to wipe at her cheeks. She realized Brittany's cheek was wet, and she wondered why Brittany was crying. Until Brittany reached up and wiped at her cheeks. She didn't realize she had been the one crying.
"I didn't mean to make you sad." Brittany pouted, her finger wiping over a pinked cheekbone before tapping at the end of Santana's nose.
"No." Santana whispered, one of her hands wrapping around Brittany's wrist, bringing Brittany's hand to her mouth so she could kiss her knuckles. "No. You didn't make me sad." Santana smiled, feeling even more stupid that she was making Brittany feel worse about herself. "You deserve to feel how you feel. I'm the one who should be apologizing. So just stop. Because you didn't do anything wrong."
Brittany smiled up at her, and Santana's heart fluttered as thin lips curled and twisted into perfection. The look on Brittany's face was indescribable. Santana immediately felt sad for people who would never have someone look at them like Brittany was looking at her. There was so much love and trust pooled behind baby blues that Santana didn't know how to react. So she smiled and bent forward, grazing her lips across Brittany's teasingly. When Brittany giggled and tried to move her head to connect their lips, Santana drew back and smiled.
"Tease." Brittany whimpered, puffing out her bottom lip as she continued to try and meet Santana's lips.
"You love it." Santana grinned, enjoying playing with Brittany as she moved her mouth just out of reach.
"Maybe." Brittany smiled with a pout. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to kiss you right now." Brittany crossed her arms over her chest and settled back into Santana's lap.
Santana couldn't resist and kissed Brittany, wrapping her lips around Brittany's bottom one, sucking gently. "You're too cute when you pout." Santana mumbled against her mouth, smiling against Brittany's lips as she pressed them against her own.
"I'm always cute." Brittany clarified with a wink, giggling as Santana poked against her sides.
Santana watched as Brittany relaxed back into her lap, blonde hair falling over her tanned legs. She wanted to be brave for her. She needed to be. Because Brittany deserved it. She deserved more than that. She deserved to have someone who was so unbelievably proud to be with her. To show her off. To tell everyone just how special and amazing she truly was.
"I'm going to tell her." Santana swallowed, her mouth dry as she thought of what to say. Brittany watched and waited for clarification, slightly confused at the shift from playfulness to serious conversation. "I'll tell her something important came up, and I can't go on the date. I know it's not what you want, but it'll buy me some time until I can think of how to tell her the truth. Because I'm going to tell her Brittany Pierce. I just need a little more time." She chewed on the inside of her cheek nervously, hoping that Brittany would see how hard she was trying.
Brittany smiled and nodded. She wanted Santana to tell her mother, not because of her, but because it would mean everything for Santana. To have other people know about her so she could be happy to be herself. That's all Brittany wanted. To see Santana finally happy and accepting of herself. And she could tell Santana was getting there. Maybe it would take a few more days, or a few more weeks, or maybe even a few more months, but Santana was trying, and Brittany was happy with the progress she was making.
"I love you." Brittany grinned, nothing but sincerity lacing her voice. Santana smiled, her dimple indenting her cheek as she leaned down and kissed Brittany again. And again. And again. Santana couldn't think of anything better than kissing Brittany.
She was so happy. Her and Brittany were happy. Brittany's mom knew about them and didn't care. Maybe everything would be fine. Maybe she was making a bigger deal out of things than what they really were. Maybe her mom would see how happy Brittany made her, and she would be shocked at first, but would come around eventually.
Because there definitely could be nothing wrong with how Santana felt about Brittany. And there definitely could be nothing wrong with kissing Brittany. How could something so right be wrong? It was impossible. And Santana was beginning to think her mom would feel the same way. She couldn't possibly hate her for loving someone as amazing as Brittany.
"Wanna sleep over?" Brittany asked as Santana began to play with her hair again, braiding a few of the strands together.
"Can we eat ice cream and watch 10 Things I Hate About You?" Santana smirked, finishing the tail of the braid.
"Definitely. Can I lick ice cream off of you?" Brittany deadpanned, watching as Santana's cheeks colored and her eyes darkened a little.
"You're ridiculous." Santana chuckled, one hand rubbing at Brittany's scalp, the other running down a bare arm. She tried to keep herself from getting too flustered, hoping to keep the control for the evening.
"You love me though." Brittany's eyes flashed with a smile and Santana relinquished her power without a fight. If Brittany was the one in control, Santana was sure she would always be satisfied.
"Mom, I'm home." Santana called as she shut the front door. The house was dark, but she saw her mom's car in the garage, and she could smell fresh linen coming from the laundry room.
Brittany had dropped her off on her way to Kenzie's soccer game, promising Santana could spend the night when it was over, sealing it with a kiss on the cheek. She had asked if Santana wanted to come along, but the thought of watching a bunch of little kids run around trying to kick a ball in a net did not seem appealing. No matter how much she loved the girl asking.
She looked in the kitchen as she passed, and found it empty. Seeing the living room empty as well, she figured her mother was either napping, or running an errand with Mrs. Raezer.
She still needed to tell her mother she wasn't going on the date. She just didn't know how to bring it up. But she promised Brittany she would do it today.
As she made her way upstairs, she noticed her parent's room door was open. She walked towards it, her palms sweaty with nerves. This was it. She was seventeen years old. She didn't have to go on a date if she didn't want to.
The room was dark, and Santana almost turned back around until she saw her mother's silhouette sitting on her bed. She would have screamed in shock if it weren't for the eerie feeling that immediately overcame her. She swore she could feel every hair on her arms stick straight up as she took in the way her mother was sitting.
She wasn't moving, and she was staring at the far wall. Santana could see her reflection in their dresser mirror. Santana knew her mother saw her, but she refused to turn and acknowledge her presence.
And that was the point that had Santana sick to her stomach. Something just didn't feel right.
Maybe she got some bad news from work. Or maybe her father called and cancelled their plans or something. She didn't want to add more trouble to whatever was going on with her mother, but she knew that if she didn't' tell her now, she would chicken out.
"I, uh," she coughed, clearing her throat. "I rejoined Cheerios, and Coach has a mandatory meeting on Friday. So I can't go on the date." Santana breathed unevenly, her hands trembling in front of her. She let out a sigh of relief for having found a great excuse, glad to be done with her mother's ridiculous plan.
But still her mother didn't move. Santana saw her chest rise and fall with her breathing, so she knew she was at least still alive. And she figured no response was as good as any. Maybe since she wasn't yelling at her, or telling her she had to go, meant that she didn't care about it anymore.
So Santana exited the room and practically ran down the hall to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She flopped down on her bed, fully intending to watch trashy reality shows until Brittany was done at her sister's game.
Halfway through an episode of some city of Real Housewives, her bedroom door snapped open, slamming against the adjacent wall with a loud bang. Santana jumped on her bed, her heart racing like hummingbird wings.
Standing in the doorway was her mother, her face the coldest Santana had ever seen it. Her lips were pressed tight and angled down. Her eyes were so dark and narrowed, Santana couldn't see her pupils. And there was no light or warmth behind them. Just empty coldness.
"Mom," Santana barely whispered. Her body was shaking, and she was fighting with everything she had not to show it.
"Mom." Mrs. Lopez mocked, her voice icy like freezing rain. Santana instantly wanted to be anywhere but there. Something was definitely wrong, and the strong smell of alcohol diffused through her room with her mother's presence.
"Did…did something happen at work?" Santana stuttered, hands clenching the edge of her shorts to keep herself still.
The noise that left her mother's mouth was the scariest thing Santana had ever heard. She shivered, and she knew her mother could tell she was scared.
"You stupid little girl." Her mother snarled, her words slurred as she took a few tentative steps into Santana's room. Santana knew she was drunk. She could smell it on her, and she could see the color in her cheeks. Her movements were sloppy and sluggish, and all Santana could do was watch her come closer, anger now like fire behind her eyes.
Santana wished Brittany was there. Not so she could witness her mother like this. But so they could go back to her house and not have to deal with this at all. Whatever had her mother upset would pass as soon as she sobered up.
"Mom." Santana tried again, but was quickly interrupted by her mother leaning against her desk.
"You have some nerve young lady." Santana pulled her feet underneath her, trying to make herself as small as possible.
"I don't –" Santana shook her head, not understanding what was going on. And she felt helpless, like all she could do was watch it all unfold. Maybe it was about the date, and it just hit her mother now, and that's why she was suddenly upset. "Is this about the date?"
And instantly she regretted asking that, because the laugh her mother let out was more of an evil cackle.
"You think I'm stupid, don't you?" Her mother sneered, gripping the edge of Santana's desk so tightly, her knuckles were ghostly white. "You think you have the right to behave like you do. To make a mockery of our family name."
Santana wanted to laugh at how ridiculous her mother sounded. It's not like they were some royal family that needed to keep their name clean. But she couldn't. Because the way her mother was looking at her, like she had committed some type of crime, had Santana frozen to where she was sitting.
"I don't understand," Santana almost cried. Her nails were digging into her thighs so hard that she was sure she was going to draw blood.
"You're sick. You need some help." Her mother said evenly, taking another swaying step in front of her desk.
"What?" Santana's eyes watered as her brow scrunched in confusion. She felt like she was going to throw up, the nerves in her stomach were so jittery and severe. She winced when she felt her skin crack beneath her nail. Where was Brittany? Wasn't the game over by now?
"You have been taught what's right and what's wrong. And this behavior is unacceptable. I will not tolerate it." Her mother took a few more shaky steps, her eyes never wavering from Santana's.
When Santana realized where she was headed, her stomach plummeted, and she actually had to swallow back the bile that bubbled up from her throat. "Wait! –"
Before Santana could say anything, her mother flew open the closet door, revealing all the reasons Brittany had given her. Tears began to fall down her cheeks as she blinked, everything happening too fast for her to comprehend.
"How?" Santana whispered, her voice thick with tears.
"How?" Her mother snapped. "How? I find this…" she gestured to the door, "while trying to put away your clean clothes. And all you can say is how." Her mother squared her shoulders at her, sizing her up. "You little bitch." She spat, her hand coming up and ripping once of the pieces of paper from the door. "If this is your idea of acting out and trying to get our attention, you've taken it a little too far. Did you purposely think of this idiotic behavior just to see how I would react? Because you're desperate for attention?"
"Mom, please." Santana cried, her body trembling as she spoke.
"No daughter of mine will behave this way." She continued, ripping more of the papers off the door and tearing them in pieces, before allowing them to fall to the floor. "You will get the help you need, and we will never speak of this again."
"Mom, stop!" Santana got up from the bed and walked toward her mother, her legs shaking as she moved. "Let me explain." She begged, grabbing for her mother's arm as it ripped the last of the paper in two.
Her mother turned around, and before Santana knew it, she felt the sting of her mother's hand on her cheek. She instantly covered the hot skin, fresh tears leaking from her eyes.
"Explain?" Her mother's voice was loud and high pitched. "There is nothing to explain Santana. Whatever you think is going on is a lie. You're confused. And I will not allow it."
Santana cried, her body shaking with each broken sob that ripped from her chest. "But I love her." Santana pleaded, eyes glossy and puffy with tears. She saw the muscles in her mother's face tighten, and she swallowed back more cries. "I love her."
"Watch your tongue." Her mother warned, her back straightening to make herself taller and more threatening. "You're speaking about a great sin Santana."
"Mom." Santana reached for her mother's hand again, but she pulled it back like she had been burned. And Santana was horrified at the thought. That her mother couldn't even touch her without feeling ashamed.
"It's just because Brittany's so jovial. She's like a child. She was brought up not knowing the difference between right and wrong. When you stop hanging out with her, you'll see it was just all in your head." Her mother's eyes were so dark that Santana could see her reflection in them. Her voice was sharp like a knife, the words she was saying cutting into her and tearing at everything Santana believed to be true.
Brittany was not a child. She was smart and empathetic. And it wasn't in her head. Her feelings for Brittany were real, and they were mutual, and her mother just needed to understand that. It was just new to her. She needed to see that she was still the same person. Still her daughter. "You can't make me stop seeing her. She's my best friend."
Mrs. Lopez stepped closer to her daughter, her face cold and still, like it was made of stone. "She's corrupted you to believe in something that is a sin Santana. Could you imagine what people would say if they heard about this?"
Santana scoffed and rolled her eyes. This wasn't about other people anymore. This was about her and Brittany. Why couldn't her mother understand that? All her mother ever cared about was what other people thought of her and her family. Couldn't she, for once, just care about her daughter and what she wanted? "I don't care about anyone else. All I care about is her."
Her mother smacked her again, her cheek burning as she took a few steps back. She could feel her skin growing red as she staggered to regain her footing. Her eyes stung with tears, and she couldn't believe how this conversation had turned so bad. Would it have been better if she had told her mother before she found out? Or was all her initial thinking about her mother not accepting her really true? She couldn't believe this was happening.
She looked at her mother will hurt filled eyes, silently pleading for reassurance. That this wasn't going to end badly. That this wasn't really happening. That her mother just needed a few minutes to process everything, and then it would all be okay.
"Get out." Her mother demanded, pointing her finger at the open door.
And all hope Santana had drained from her face, falling to the floor like the ripped up pieces of paper that contained hers and Brittany's relationship, like a shredded diary.
"What?" She squeaked out past chapped lips, her voice thick and heavy. Her face crumpled in utter confusion. What had she done that was so terrible? She really just wanted to rewind time and do things differently. And she honestly couldn't decide which things she would do differently. But she knew she didn't want to be kicked out of her house just because she was in love with Brittany. It just didn't seem fair.
"I said get out. I will not have you being under this roof with you saying these things." Her mother's lips were set in a straight line, the edges of them white from how hard she was pressing them together.
"But…where?" Santana swallowed, her voice breaking. This wasn't happening. This was just one of her nightmares. She had fallen asleep while waiting for Brittany, and she was just having a nightmare. This wasn't happening.
"That is not my concern anymore. You chose this. You can find somewhere else to live. You want to be ungrateful and do such disgusting things, you can do them somewhere else." Her mother spat at her. And for the first time Santana actually felt disgusted. Not because she loved Brittany. But because the world didn't think her love was real. She felt disgusted that the people in her life didn't like her just because she was in love with a girl.
Santana wrapped her arms around her chest to try and hold herself together. "Mom, please." She cried. She felt like maybe if she just tried a little harder, her mother would soften and just listen, and see that it wasn't a big deal. That being with Brittany as more than just a friend didn't change who she was. It didn't make her different. Just maybe a little nicer. But that shouldn't be a good enough reason to kick someone out.
"I said. Get. Out. You are not welcome here anymore." Santana searched her eyes for any wavering, and found none. Her mother had made up her mind.
Santana stood frozen a few seconds longer, until her mother arched an eyebrow at her challengingly. So she turned toward her closet to grab some clothes, but her mother moved to block her way.
"Now." She hissed, and Santana couldn't believe her mother was not only kicking her out, but also refusing to let her gather some stuff together.
Santana hiccupped out one last sob before she turned on her heels, grabbing her phone as she exited her room, running through the hallway and down the stairs, not looking back once until the front door was closed behind her. She turned on her front porch, looking back at her house through blurry eyes. She shook her head, not understanding how everything had gone so wrong, or how she was now technically homeless.
She didn't grab her keys, so she couldn't drive. She didn't really know where to go either.
She tugged her tank top further down her stomach, clutching the fabric harder than she needed to. Swallowing her tears, the saltiness sliding down her mouth like bitter salt water, she started walking. She had her phone, but she didn't know who she could call. She couldn't tell anyone the reason why she was kicked out. And Brittany was at her sister's game.
She didn't have anyone to call.
So she just walked. Her head was spinning so fast, she thought she was going to faint. Her stomach felt sick, but she knew if she threw up, nothing would come up. Everything she had feared had been true. Her own mother kicked her out of her house because she thought she was doing something wrong. People would look at her differently, just because she loved someone that they didn't agree with.
With each step she took, she felt sicker and sicker. Her cries had turned to whimpers, barely audible sounds wracking her body as her eyes remained bloodshot and glossed over. Her feet felt so heavy as she lifted them to walk, like they were covered in cement. She just felt numb.
She didn't realize where she was walking until she saw the familiar lamppost in their front yard. She had practically grown up at that house, and she would have laughed at the irony of her subconscious taking her there if she had any emotions left. She knew they weren't home. Brittany hadn't called her yet. So she walked up their driveway to their front porch, and sat down. She pulled her knees into her chest, dropped her head to her lap, and allowed the last remaining tears she had to fall as she waited.
When Santana heard a car approaching, she realized the headlights were shining on her as it pulled into the driveway. She blinked as she looked up, wondering how long she had been sitting there since it was now dark out. Her eyes burned and she felt so tired.
She wasn't even aware of a body running towards her as she stared into the headlights of the car.
"San," Brittany asked with worry, dropping to her knees in front of Santana. Her hands immediately went to Santana's face, noticing the stains of tears and the redness of a handprint on one of them. "What happened?"
Santana opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She closed it and shook her head, new tears pooling in her eyes. She wondered how much a person could cry in one day, because she was sure her body was just about out of tears.
"Oh honey." Brittany's voice was layered with concern. She turned her body until she was sitting next to Santana on the porch step, and pulled a very broken form of her best friend into her side. Her arms wrapped around Santana's head and stomach, rocking her back and forth. "It'll be okay." She whispered into raven hair, over and over again like a mantra.
The headlights of the Pierce's car were turned off, and Santana was vaguely aware of more approaching footsteps, but she tried to focus on Brittany's comforting words and hands. She could feel herself slipping away, and she needed something to hold on to. So she clutched at Brittany's chest, burying her head in the hollow crook of Brittany's neck, and cried. She cried as the rest of Brittany's family sent them sympathetic looks as they walked past and into the house. She cried as the neighbor walked their dog past the house. She cried as she heard the rest of Brittany's family go to bed.
All while listening to Brittany repeat the same words over and over again. "It'll be okay. Honey, it'll be okay."