Even though Santana had heard Burt starting the car and driving off (which had left her with a clenching stomach and an uneasy lump in her throat), and heard Kurt enter the house, closing the door behind him and locking it, Kurt did not come into the kitchen at all until she was finished eating.
It was not until she had stood up and put her plate down by the sink that he stepped into the kitchen, smiled at her and started clearing the table.
For a brief second she wondered why he had been keeping out of the kitchen, but when Kurt discretely cleared his throat a little behind her she realized the answer and quickly stepped aside.
He's giving me space. Just like Burt did at the table last night.
It was nice, having space. Being given space. That they stayed out of her face, refrained from inquiring about what had happened, about how she felt, that they let her be and still managed to be so very there.
She was not used to it, though. The space. It was nice and surprisingly comforting, but it was not was she was used to and therefore perhaps not her firsthand choice.
It was nice, but as she realized with a pang of guilt as she watched Kurt wash her plate and put everything back in the right place, it was perhaps not everything she needed.
She needed more. Maybe not cry uncontrollably and sob into someone's arms, but she needed to talk incoherently about what had happened and have someone squeeze her hand and kiss her and tell her that Santana, that really sucks but it's gonna be okay and you're the best thing that ever happened to me.
Maybe it was a little ill-mannered of her, wanting the comfort to be accompanied by some kind of praise or acknowledgement, but right now all she could think about was that the people that were supposed to comfort her, acknowledge her and tell her she was amazing, had kicked her out faster than she had ever even imagined was possible.
So right now she needed someone to just remind her that she was loved.
It was not so much that she needed someone to love her. It was more that she needed the people that already did love her to assure her that they had not stopped doing so, because that was the issue.
Last night, people had stopped loving her.
What she needed right now, she repeated to herself, was to hear that Santana, that really sucks but it's gonna be okay and you're the best thing that ever happened to me, and maybe after all even give in to her instincts and simply cry uncontrollably and sob into someone's arms.
No, scratch that, she thought. Not "someone". There's only one person I need.
"I need to call Brittany", she said the second she finished the thought. She said it so quickly she did not even change the direction of her gaze before she blurted it out, which made it look like she was talking to the kitchen cabinet more than she was actually talking to Kurt.
Santana slowly turned her head towards Kurt who was looking at her with big eyes, completely empty of the surprise Santana thought she would find. Instead of looking like he thought she just said something quite out of the blue, Kurt looked like it was the most obvious and logical thing in the world for her to say.
And it kind of is, a voice added in the back of her head.
"Invite her over", Kurt said, turned the tap off and wiped his hands dry on a nearby kitchen towel.
Santana felt cheesy even thinking it, but she did anyway; it was like everything felt good again when he said that and she thought about Brittany coming over.
Everything felt good again and Santana knew that what her body was doing right now, without her consent, was nodding like an idiot and smiling widely.
She was upstairs sitting on Kurt's bed with her phone in her hand before she knew it. She had hardly noticed how she had gotten up there at all; how she had run past the family photos in the stairs and almost collided with a shocked Finn who looked like he was heading out of his room.
She had not even felt a sting of anger when she rushed by him, and that was probably saying something.
All her focus was absorbed by something else; by the thought of Brittany. Brittany who had not gotten to know anything except for an informative but most likely intimidating text message composed by Kurt in the middle of the night.
Brittany who deserved to know more than anyone.
Santana stared at her pink phone for a second before she clapped it up and read the display.
Five missed calls and ten new messages.
It was not so much that Santana assumed that they were all from Britt, it was more that she honestly could not give a fuck about messages or calls from anyone else, so she ignored them all and called her girlfriend up instead.
The slow beeps in Santana's ears made her nervous. She was unsure whether it was telling Britt everything that made her nervous, or the thought that she might not pick up that did the trick and made her stomach do twists it should not be doing.
Probably the latter, because Santana felt an immediate rush of relief when she finally heard Brittany's voice. It sounded more panicked than Santana was used to hearing it – it was higher, the words came out quicker and the sadness was drenching Brittany's tone.
"Santana? Santana, it's you! I was so worried when you didn't pick up and I left messages and…"
"Yeah", Santana said and felt voice become a little thick, her eyes become a little watery and her chest becoming a whole lot less tense. "I know. I'm sorry I didn't pick up. I was sleeping."
"I even sent Rory and Lord Tubbington on a mission to find you but I think I just saw them in the garden so I don't really think they…"
Santana let out a small laugh, which made the first tear from her brimming eyes slowly make its way down her cheek.
Brittany was quiet in the other end for half a second before she quietly continued with a question.
"Are you… are you really at Kurt's house?"
Santana sighed.
"Yes."
"Did your parents really…"
"Yeah."
"I don't get it", Brittany sighed and Santana could picture her so clearly – Britt had probably sat down on her bed by now and sunk into her pillows with a frown on her face.
Santana hated it when there was a frown on that face.
"Britt", Santana said and let herself fall backwards into Kurt's neatly made bed. She landed with a thud and bounced slightly against the mattress. "Britt, could you come over?"
The bouncing and the vertical position made the tears flow freely down the sides of her face and she could swear that she was only seconds away from sobbing.
She breathed in hard and felt a tear land on her ear – it made her flinch a little. She tried to wipe it away but there were new, uncomfortable, disturbing tears there at once again-.
"Could you come over, 'cause…" There it was; the sobbing. "'Cause I really fucking need you right now, B."
There was no pause between Santana's last statement and Brittany's instant answer. There was no half second where any of them took a deep breath, no moment of thoughtfulness where Brittany would formulate a response.
It was Brittany, after all.
"Of course", Brittany answered, "I'm right there. I'm there in ten minutes. I am. Don't worry. I'll be right there."
"I love you", Santana answered in the middle of a sob and tried not to think about how pathetic she would usually think this would look. Her, lying on Kurt's bed, sobbing like a baby and saying 'I love you'.
It was not the most romantic place or situation to say those words, but that could not matter less to her right now. Right now it was just the truth.
"I love you too. Santana, I'm gonna hang up now. I'll be there in five. Okay?"
"Okay", Santana whispered and took a deep breath, almost gasped for air, before she pressed the 'end call'-button.
The silence was both horrible - almost suffocating, and at the same time relieving. Santana sat up straight and stood up without even bothering to try stop crying or even wipe the tears off her face.
Instead, she let the tears drip down her face in awkward angles, let them leave wet marks on her shirt and let them keep streaming down.
She almost marched out of the room, down the stairs and past the kitchen. Kurt quickly stuck his head out with an inquiring look, to which Santana nodded and said in a shaky voice:
"She's coming."
She could not bring herself to say a word more – she tried but simply choked on the words. Instead she marched on into the hallway with a steady look on the door.
She tried not to be bothered by the tears, by the blurry sight and the twitches her body did every ten seconds when a new sob made her gasp for air.
Without thinking, she sunk down and sat on the floor in the Hummel-Hudson hallway, eyes fixed on the front door and tears everywhere.
The only sounds she was listening for was the sound of a car that she hoped would pull upon the driveway any minute now, any minute. All she wanted to hear was that doorbell ring.
So she stared at the door and hardly blinked for ten minutes.
When the doorbell finally rang Santana cried out, jumped for the door, fiddled with the lock and threw the door open.
Brittany was there. Eyes a little red-rimmed and hair a little messy, but so perfect that Santana had no idea what to do more than just stand there and let Brittany step forward and hug her so tightly that she forgot how tense she was.
So tightly that her twitching, sobbing chest started to ease up just a little bit.
They both stood there, tightly embracing, none of them even almost noticing the two teenage step brothers that were looking at them with concerned faces only a short distance away.
None of them said anything. Everything that existed that moment was the open front door, the whistling wind outside and the tight, tight hug.