Finn was falling apart. Santana had de-friended him on facebook and deleted her old AIM. Santana never talked to him anymore, and when she did she only referred to him as 'Hudson' or 'Freak'. She barely even looked at him. And she didn't even appear to be having a hard time ignoring him. It killed him.

On Mondays he tended to be depressed, Tuesdays he would be angry, Wednesdays he'd be sad, Thursdays he'd be trembling so much that he could barely sit still, Fridays were spent staring at Santana in hopes that he'd catch her eye. Saturdays all he did was homework and on Sundays all he did was cry. When Santana was gone, so was everything else. Even Glee Club couldn't cheer him up.

One Friday he was unusually angry. After school he saw Santana walking alone and he walked over to her, pinning her against the wall with force, but being gentle because he really didn't want to hurt her. She glared at him.

"What the hell do you want Hudson?" she snapped. He searched her eyes for any sign of the love she had once felt for him. His heart sank. Nothing. No love, no attraction, no admiration or adoration. Finn looked at her and swallowed thickly. He wanted to kiss her so badly.

"I want you back, San," Finn murmured, his hands sliding closer to her shoulders.

"Don't call me San," Santana growled. Finn blinked. Was that all she heard him say?

"Santana, please," Finn croaked. Santana harsh look didn't vanish. She licked her lips absently. Finn lost it. He planted his lips on hers, kissing her roughly but lovingly all at once. She kissed him back.

When she pulled away, her glare increased. She pushed him away from her with such force that Finn was surprised. She cursed him out in Spanish and then stormed out of WMHS.

Finn threw a glee party at his house. Well, Kurt threw it but Finn co-hosted. Finn searched for Santana the entire time but he couldn't find her. After the party he walked to his bedroom. He found his phone on his bed. It was on. He frowned, he knew he had turned it off. Panic struck him and he looked through his phone's contacts. Santana had deleted her number.

"Shit," Finn muttered. He looked around his room. His laptop was up. His desktop had been a picture of him and Santana that morning but now it was a picture of a cat. His photo frames that had once held pictures of Santana or him and Santana were empty.

Finn sunk onto the floor, lifting the floorboards to look for the stash of unopened condoms he had kept. They were gone. So was the bra that she had left at his house accidentally a month prior. She seriously even took those?

It was like they had never dated. But Finn knew they had dated because the pain in his chest would never let him forget. Ever.