So like. There are going to be typos in this because I'm going to be too emotionally unstable to re-read it. I'm warning you now. I haven't even started writing this chapter as I write this author's note and I can tell you Songbird and Fondue for Two are going to kill me. So. Here we go~

She woke up before me and was not in bed by the time I cracked my eyes open. This didn't surprise me. Usually when we had a rough night, she would get up and go into her parents' home gym to burn off some energy and clear her head. This was a Santana thing so no, it didn't surprise me. Still, I wished that I had woken up to her face instead of her pillow. It was always nicer after a hard night to be able to wake up and smile at her and kiss her good morning so that I could tell her without telling her that everything would be okay. Secretly I think she liked mornings like these the best too, but they were the ones that scared her the most and so were the ones she wanted most to run from. Telling your best friend you're a lesbian definitely counted as a hard night, I think, so I guess she deserved to be out of bed already. Not because it was a shock to me, but because… Well, it was probably the first time she'd called herself that out loud. I didn't have a right to be mad at her, and I wasn't. I was just… sad.

I worked hard to make myself seem okay that morning. I carefully selected my outfit for the day from the stash of clothes I kept in her closet, styled my hair, and applied makeup some of the makeup I kept in a bag in one of her drawers. "Just keep swimming," I whispered to myself when I was finished, studying my blue eyes in Santana's mirror. My lips curved in an attempt at a smile and I wondered what it was that would keep it there that day. I couldn't think of anything and I was quickly losing the battle against the pout I knew wanted to settle on my face. It was okay. I figured I'd just tell everyone that I thought Lord Tubbington and Charity were going to run away to join the kitty version of the Peace Corps or something- which was one hundred percent true and only added to the heavy sadness on my shoulders that morning. I remember that just turning away from the mirror was a struggle. I felt like it wasn't going to be a very good day- Santana leaving, no Artie, the threat of my cats running away for an aid organization thing… It all made for a very upset Brittany.

Of course, people often wake up expecting one thing but end up getting another. That was a life lesson I always forgot I had learned until the next time I learned it.

I wandered down the stairs and started towards the door, only to pause when I heard someone rattling around in the kitchen. At first I thought it was a cat burglar and I remember thinking that he wasn't a very good one if he was stealing pans and – I sniffed – eggs and bacon in broad daylight. Curious, I slipped quietly into the room only to see Santana herself making breakfast. She was humming to herself, something soft and sweet, and my heart kind of butterfly kicked like they teach you in swim lessons, only faster. "San," I started, and my voice must have scared her because she swore and turned around fast, her eyes big in her face. She pressed a hand to her heart and I smiled at her. "What were you singing? It was pretty."

"I wasn't singing, I was humming. Sit down." She pointed her spatula at a chair and, rolling her eyes, returned to cooking the food. I watched her for a few minutes until she was settling plates on the table and I was looking at it all with wide eyes. There were the eggs and back I had smelled, as well as toast smeared with jelly and a big glass of chocolate milk, stirred to the perfect level of chocolatey goodness. Santana liked to cook but she didn't do it a lot because our diets from the Cheerios hadn't allowed things like chocolate milk or solid food. To smell it all and see it and know it was for us had my mouth watering.

"What's all this?" I asked, looking more for a reason explaining the meal than an actual definition of the food in front of me.

"Breakfast," she shot back, and the way she smirked at me alerted me to the fact she knew exactly what I was asking and chose to be a smartie pants instead. "See, Britt? Sweet and salty, just like you like it." I smiled in acknowledgement and, blushing, ate the meal she'd made for me. The rest of the morning passed quickly and we talked a lot. On the drive to school, she kept my hand tucked in hers and smiled her special just-for-me smile the entire time. I started to feel hopeful, started to believe that maybe we were going to get somewhere now that I wasn't dating Artie and Santana was finally starting to understand herself. I was so hopeful and, as usual, so naïve. I thought then that maybe things were starting to work out the way they were supposed to.

To be fair, I think that's how Santana meant it to turn out when she touched my hand at lunch and told me she had something to show me. I didn't think twice before getting up from the table and following her from the cafeteria. She led me quietly to the choir room, but I didn't mind the silence this time because I could tell she was thinking and I was thinking too. I had been missing Artie all day. Not in that way that people normally miss their ex-boyfriends, I guess. I mean, I wasn't crying in a corner over it every chance I got. I guess I was more upset that we'd lost that friendship too and that things were awkward between us. I was upset over the things he'd said still and so maybe my day was a little blue, but Santana had been trying to cheer me up all day. "Can I ask you something, Britt?" I looked at her as we walked through the choir room door and she softly shut it behind us, her eyes watching every movement intently like she'd do it wrong if she didn't.

"Anything, Santana," I returned honestly and we started walking again until we reached the shiny black piano. I leaned against it and waited for her to speak, watching out of the corner of my eye as she hesitated before settling her hands against the piano as well.

"How do you feel? Without Artie?"

It wasn't what I'd been expecting and I looked down again and sighed, thinking it over. It didn't hit me then what her question was looking for. I tended to take things like that at face value and so I thought hard about it. What did not having Artie make me feel? Well, sad. We'd been close friends and now I could hardly even look at him without getting upset. "I'm so sad," I replied at last, staring at my fingers. "A sad little panda." Something in me told me not to look up, to wait until Santana made the first move. I didn't know why she'd asked and I wasn't sure how she'd feel about my answer, so I waited. I could be patient. She'd been so sweet to me all day- it was only fair I gave her a chance to speak her mind. I was again surprised when, in place of the Artie abuse I'd been expecting, my best friend kept the focus on me. I heard her as she took a deep breath and I steeled myself for something like well he's a stupid boy or fuck him, you're too hot for that sack of meat-on-wheels anyway.

Instead she said softly, "Well that's why I brought you here." There was a strange uncertainty to her voice and I looked up at her, trying to figure out what she was feeling. There were so many feelings in her eyes. My mom told me when I was little that the eyes were the windows to the soul. I wasn't quite sure what it meant then, but in that moment, staring up at her, I figured it out. I could see through them, into them, all the way down deep where the fear and hope and love lingered. Those eyes were an unlocked window, an open invite. I could see it all, just as I could see reflected there everything that I felt. It was only a second of eye contact, but somehow all of that got communicated and I felt my hands start to shake, just a little, from the enormity of it all. Her head tilted and she offered a small smile as she added, "To cheer you up." Her hand reached out and gripped mine softly and I hoped she didn't feel the way my fingers shook as she tugged me away from the piano to explain. "I've been going through that Rumours album-" she had? "And I found the best song that really goes one step past Landslide in expressing my feelings for you." Her hand released mine and I had to sit down because my legs felt like jell-o and I was afraid that if I didn't, I'd just melt into a wiggly jiggly puddle right there in front of her. Santana had a song for me. About her feelings. She was going to sing a song about her feelings to me without anyone helping her at all. My lips parted, but I couldn't think of anything to say. Our eyes met again and there was that same exposed look in her eyes before she tacked on quietly, "Private feelings," and turned away.

I knew what that meant. Or part of me did, at least. Santana had decided to share her feelings – feelings I already knew she had, feelings I wasn't waiting for her to repeat but to share – at a time when she knew no one else would see. That part of me that was still hopeful wanted to believe it was because she needed to know my response before she opened herself up like that, but the other part reminded me that she already knew what my answer was so why would she be so nervous unless she still didn't want anyone to know? I wasn't sure which side was winning and so I tried to distract my thoughts- and that's when I noticed Brad. He was watching me steadily through his glasses and I realized then that she was, in fact, sharing what she felt about me with someone who wasn't me. I couldn't help but point it out, hoping to get more of an explanation. "What about him?"

Santana spun back towards me with her hand light on the piano top. "He's just furniture," she dismissed with a small wave. I gave her a look and she turned toward him and added hastily, "Sorry. No offense. Hit it." I gave the shrugging man one last look before all of my nervous energy focused on Santana. I took a deep breath and settled back, prepared to watch and absorb the message I already understood. Or I thought I did. That's the thing about the relationship I had with Santana. No matter how well I knew her, no matter how perfectly I understood, she managed to pull out surprise after surprise. I was proud of her. Even as she stood shakily in front of me, her hands clutching at each other as they did when she was nervous, she was still doing it. She was still standing up. That, as well as the song choice, surprised me. I wasn't the best with lyrics. Memorizing them took me forever, which is why I leaned more towards the dancing solos rather than the singing ones. I didn't always understand, mostly because I wasn't always the best with words, and to be honest Songbird wasn't all that different. I got a few of the lines, but I didn't know where the birds fit in and stuff like that. The understanding I got from it… I got from Santana's eyes. The way she moved, the way she looked, the way she breathed- all of it highlighted the meaning better than any score sheet could. I saw the apology, the need, the fear. But mostly I saw the love. Her eyes whispered the words even before she echoed it in song.

And I love you, I love you, I love you like never before…

I couldn't help but smile, tears stinging my eyes because, oh God, it was so beautiful. I can't explain the feeling. I'm not good enough with words to manage it. When the person you've loved all of your life bares their soul to you like that, it is the most moving experience of any experience ever had, ever. To know that everything you feel is so completely and totally felt in return… I forced myself to keep the tears in because I didn't want her to think she was doing something wrong, but I felt them there, wetting my eyes as I watched my best friend move closer to me, offering, handing me everything I wanted. I saw a tear fall from her dark eyes, watched as a small, nervous smile touched her lips before she delicately wiped the tear away, swallowing her nerves back down as she flicked her hair. "Okay, so…" I didn't want to ruin it, but I had to know. I couldn't make a decision before I knew. I got up from my chair and moved down to meet her, hoping she'd see that I had loved it even as I steered the conversation in a direction she probably didn't want to go in. "Why couldn't you sing that to me in front of everyone? Now that Artie and I aren't together?"

"No, not... not yet." She looked away from me and carefully removed another tear, obviously trying not to smear her makeup. I felt a pinch of disappointment, but I held my ground, willing to let her explain. I'd given her lots of time. I could give her more. I just… wasn't sure how much longer we could go on like this. "I'm not ready for that type of… public announcement." The way she said it, her back turning to me as she moved away again, had me sighing quietly to myself. "Ever since that Muckraker thing, people have already started treating me differently…" She looked back to me and must have realized that I was upset because she tacked on a bit desperately, "I got asked to join the golf team." As if that alone explained why she couldn't just ask me out and forget about what people thought. I realized that Santana was never going to come out without help, was never going to escape the witch in Narnia without someone showing her how. And an idea struck me.

"Well, what if I went first?" She looked confused, terrified that I was pushing this. I felt bad, but I had been waiting so long for this. I couldn't just let it go. I couldn't. I just wanted so badly to hold her hand in the hallway. Was that so bad? Really, I was pushing too hard. I didn't realize it then – or maybe I did but I pretended not to – but doing what I did in that moment would alter everything between us. Even now, I don't know if it was a good choice or a bad choice. I don't know if it was the push Santana needed or if it made everything we went through after that so much harder. Would we have somehow found happiness faster if I hadn't forced her to agree to coming on Fondue for Two? I guess I'll never really know that answer. "… all you have to do is say yes." She was staring at the ground, but as soon as I offered that, made it a simple answer to a difficult question, she bobbed her head rapidly and agreed. A huge smile overtook my face and we both stepped forward into one another, the hug we exchanged tight and desperate. There was a small sliver of doubt still, though. I was worried because I knew it wasn't as easy as I made it out to be. Between now and the filming of Fondue for Two, Santana would have a lot of thinking time. And if she thought too much, she'd end up disappointing both of us again.

She pulled away when the bell rang, again ran a finger under her eyes to make sure no stray tears lingered before she offered me a weak smile. "Just yes," she whispered, as if to make sure she did, in fact, have her line down. I nodded quickly, trying to reassure, trying to make sure she understood it could be just that simple. Again she smiled, even smaller than the last. "Okay, B. Okay. See you then." And then she was moving around me out the door and I was turning with her to watch her leave. Brad was once again staring at me and with Santana out of sight, I stared back.

"You don't look like furniture," I said honestly. "You look like a person. You aren't a robot, are you?" He lifted a brow and said nothing. "I don't think you are. Robots don't have hearts so they can't play beautiful music, but you can… Did Santana work on that with you for a long time?" He nodded slowly, watching me as if trying to figure me out. I bit my lip, a hand lifting to toy with my necklace. "It was pretty… She talks to you a lot, doesn't she?" Again he shrugged, which I took as a yes anyway because I know Santana secretly liked the piano guy even if he never said a word. "I'm glad that someone listens. Anyway, I have to go to class. Thanks, Brad." I smiled brightly and headed for the door too, already a bit late for my next class.

I thought I heard him say, "She's trying, blondie," but when I looked back, he was carefully organizing his sheet music back into his folder and I thought maybe I'd imagined it.

I kind of forgot that other people in glee club were having problems, too. It wasn't that I didn't care. It was just that I was so stuck in everything with me and Santana that I didn't pay that much attention to them. Not until it all blew up in this huge argument in the choir room and I looked to Santana, only for her eyes to avoid mine. That worried me. We were supposed to film Fondue for Two and she hadn't spoken to me since leaving the choir room two days before and… Well, I didn't know what to think. Everything in my little glee family was so confusing and I just wanted to make it all better. So a few minutes after Quinn left, I quietly excused myself and went after her. It only took me a couple more minutes to find her sitting on the stage, her legs dangling over the edge as she looked out over the dark seats. "Wow, someone actually followed me," she commented quietly, though she didn't look over at me. "I didn't realize people knew I still existed in this club." Slowly I sat down beside her, watching her uncomfortably as I did so.

"Of course people know you still exist, Q," I said in response. I reached out and tucked her hair back behind her ear, frowning at the tear I spotted on her lashes. "Honey, please don't cry. Seriously. Everyone's being a little silly right now, but we love you." She laughed, but I knew I hadn't said anything funny, so I didn't think she was really amused. I hadn't realized until then that the other blonde had some serious issues going on in her life. We hadn't talked for ages and hadn't been all that close for a lot longer and it was only in that moment that I saw I'd missed a lot.

"No one loves me," she replied.

"Sure they do. I do and San does and Finn-"

"Finn." She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "He doesn't love me, B. And honestly…" She sighed and lifted a shoulder before pulling her knees into her chest. "I don't really love him, either. I just… I want someone. I want to be loved. I want to be in love." It was really sad to hear that, to know she believed it. My arm wrapped around her shoulders and I hugged her close, holding on until she relaxed and her head dropped onto my shoulder.

"You and San are a lot alike sometimes," I said after a minute. I heard her release another quiet scoff, but I shook my head before she could say anything. "No, really, you are. You both just… You want that love so much, but you're… scared. Scared to take it, scared to feel it." I frowned, my own eyes focused on the rows of empty seating. "People love you, Quinn. You just can't see it."

"No one loves me like you love Santana," she whispered. I only smiled.

"No one loves anyone like I love Santana," I replied. "And I'm still trying to convince her, so."

We sat quietly for a long time. I knew it was time for me to go because I was filming Fondue for Two tonight and I needed to go and get ready. I didn't want to leave Quinn, though, so I asked her to come along. She did, and she sat on the lid of the toilet and watched as I did my hair and redid my makeup, then on the edge of my bed as I went through my clothes to pick out a new outfit. I my third shirt halfway over my head when my phone went off and I called out for Quinn to read the text. I figured it was just Santana letting me know she was almost here. "Britt." I looked up, found those hazel eyes watching me with a sad, knowing look in them. She held out the phone and I slowly crossed to her, reading the message on the display.

I can't.

I was frozen for a good minute, reading it over and over again. Quickly I texted her back, needing to know why, needing to somehow change her mind. Why? San, come on. You're so brave. I know you can do it. I'll be right there with you. I waited. I waited for a full hour, right up until I had to film, but she never answered. The show went on, but I couldn't help but think about those two words that had suddenly changed everything. After, when the dam broke and I finally cried, Quinn hugged me close and sighed. "Just remember she loves you, B," she whispered. "Remember what you said. She's scared. Give her time."

But all I could think was, how much longer could I wait? How much longer would she make me wait? A month? A year? Forever?

I was angry. I was so angry, and so sad, and just… I didn't even know what to think anymore. I didn't speak to her the entire next day and she didn't try to talk to me, either. Or the day after, or the day after that. Meanwhile, rumors spread about her and Karofsky having sex and I knew it wasn't true because they were both gay, but she seemed pleased that those rumors were catching on. On day four, I stood by my locker as those rumors swirled around me, absently doodling in my little journalism notebook. I saw Santana when she and that creepy kid with the Jewish cloud on his head came down the hall and my eyes immediately fell on them. I didn't bother trying to hide the fact I was listening. I wanted Santana to know, wanted her to see. Wanted her to tell Jewish kid that, no, those rumors weren't true because she had been, in fact, sleeping with me. Our eyes met over his shoulder and I watched her, pleading, desperate for her confession.

"So you two are in love? Soul mates, so to speak?" Jewfro asked, and immediately those eyes locked with mine.

"Yeah. I'd say that was accurate." But I could see that she wasn't speaking to him. Rather, her eyes were locked on mine as she finished her statement and then turned swiftly away. I knew she meant those words for me, knew she wasn't talking about her and capital G gay David Karofsky, but rather, she meant me. That we were soul mates. It didn't do much to comfort me because by now I'd learned the rules. We weren't dating. Even soul mates weren't necessarily going to end up together.

I remember when we were fifteen, we lay in my back yard with the last bits of cherry popsicles in our mouths, soaking up the last rays of summer sun before school started. My fingers were sticky and I was absently sticking them together and pulling them apart when I asked quietly, "Do you believe in soul mates?"

She looked sharply over at me, studying me closely for signs I meant this in a way directed at her. We'd been making out for like six months at this point and I knew she was worried about me getting actual feelings for her or something – at least that's what I assumed at the time – and so whenever I asked questions like these she got really uptight. "No," she said at last, head shaking. Seeing that I looked nothing more than curious, she relaxed back against the grass and studied the clouds again. "I think having a soul mate is kind of lazy, you know? I mean, if you think destiny ties you to this one person and that fate means you'll be brought together when the time is right… Like, where's the challenge in that, right? That's lazy." I shook my head and smiled. Of course my best friend, forever the exercise freak, would consider something like that lazy.

"I don't think it's like that really, San. I mean, why if you find your soul mate and you know you're supposed to be together forever, but everything's really hard and wants to get in your way?" I rolled over on my stomach, my expression serious as it really rarely was. "Like Romeo and Juliet. I mean, their stars were crossed, they were meant to be together, but everything was really hard for them. Maybe… Maybe you can't know your soul mate is your soul mate until you beat everything that's hard." Santana stared back at me, her dark eyes unreadable as they studied my face.

"And then maybe, even if you find them, you can't end up being with them." She spoke quietly, sadly, looking away from me again. "Like Romeo and Juliet. They both died." I nodded slowly and then frowned, reaching out to wrap my sticky pinky around hers.

"They were brave," I replied. "Dying for love. I bet Heaven let them be together later, because they beat their obstacles. I think best friend soul mates are easier. Like us!"

Again she looked back at me, her eyes dark and solemn. And then she was smiling, giggling softly to herself. "You have popsicle on your mouth," she said, wiping away a red spot with her thumb. And then she leaned in and kissed me and she tasted like cherry and sweat and summer and Santana and I forgot about soul mates and crossing stars and just remembered her.