a/n: This is the song for the chapter! Make sure to add youtube dot com and then a slash before the following half link. Or just go to youtube and search Skyscraper Demi Lovato
watch?v=r_8ydghbGSg
Chapter 11 : Moving Skyscrapers
It was so warm. It was supposed to be this warm, right? Late summer, but still summer. Summer, summer, summer. I tried to think of anything other than what had just happened with Quinn, but it was hard.
Being told by Quinn to leave her house, two times in a row, was more than enough to get me to leave and maybe never want to come back. It was an uncomfortable kind of getting kicked out, not a mean kind.
I walked as normal as I could just in case she was watching through a window and because I knew Santana was watching from her car. More than anything I wanted to run, get in the car with Santana, curl up on her lap, and cry. Crying is the best distraction when upsetting things happen because crying is so overwhelming.
Actually I wasn't even sure if I was going to cry. Crying didn't feel right, because Quinn had been crying. Two people crying at the same time is scary. Me crying was overwhelming, other people crying was tragically beautiful, but me crying at the same time as someone else was tragic and overwhelming. It was scary.
The closer I got to the car the more I realized maybe I didn't want to get in the car with Santana. What would I say?
Would it be okay to tell Santana what Quinn had said? Quinn hadn't really said anything, just implied. But it didn't feel like something I could share.
I was starting to feel sick. Maybe Santana and me could go somewhere until Quinn forgot. I shook my head, forcing myself not to think about it. I knew I would ruin something if I overthought this.
I opened the passenger door. It was so much cooler in Santana's car. I shut the door. Was I going to cry? I better not.
"Oh my God," I whispered to myself. Even though I knew I didn't have it, I checked by my feet for my purse. "I forgot my purse again." I didn't look at Santana. I didn't feel stupid for forgetting it, because there was a really big reason I had forgotten it, but I definitely knew it looked stupid that I had forgotten it.
Santana opened her door. Was she going to go get it? No! "Wait," I said, and couldn't mask any of my panic.
She stopped with one leg out of the car. Her confusion countered my panic.
"It's okay," I said, trying to convince myself that it was okay if my purse stayed here. But it wasn't, especially now that Quinn didn't want me in her house. "I don't need it."
Santana was thinking. I swear she knew exactly what had just happened with Quinn, even if that was impossible. "I'll be right back." She stood up out of her car and shut the door before I could say anything.
It felt like my heart was going to crawl up my throat and make me even more nauseous. Santana marched across the front lawn and I couldn't decide if I was overreacting or underreacting. What if Quinn thought I had told Santana and then Quinn got even more upset? What if they got in an argument because they didn't know what each other knew? Or what if Quinn told Santana before I told Santana? I don't want Santana to think I hid stuff from her.
I was overreacting, I knew I was.
Santana started slamming her fist against the front door. "Shit," I breathed. I reached for my door handle, but that was as far as I could force myself to go. It would be okay. Quinn's mom would open the door and Santana would calm down.
But Quinn's mom didn't open the door. Santana pounded against it again, and again, and again. And each time her fist slammed against the wood I relaxed a little, because maybe nobody would answer the door.
But then Quinn opened the door.
I felt all the heat drain from my face. This was what a ghost felt like. This was why ghosts were dead, because they had panic attacks.
I ducked my head down to hide.
At first I thought it was going to be okay. They were just talking. That was fine. But then it wasn't fine. Santana pointed towards me and made other big gestures. She started yelling. I didn't know what Quinn had said, but it was something that made Santana angry.
This was a misunderstanding. I shouldn't have kissed Santana that much on Quinn's bed. But her and Quinn were good friends and there was no reason for them to get mad over something that had to do with me. I should get out of the car and explain that. It wasn't that big of a deal.
Finally I opened my door. I started walking towards them. And when I reached them I hadn't had enough time to think of something to say. Maybe I didn't need to say anything and I could just grab Santana's hand and leave. Quinn wanted us to leave so we should leave. Santana and me could leave and I could explain. Easy plan.
"Answer the question!" Santana hissed. She hadn't noticed me yet.
Quinn had noticed me. She ignored Santana and gave me one of those looks people would normally mistake for a dirty look, but instead I knew it was because Quinn was upset.
I looked away from her and reached for Santana's hand. "We should go." I squeezed Santana's hand, but she didn't squeeze back.
"You're right," Quinn snapped. I knew she was looking at me, but instead I kept my eyes on Santana. This was supposed to be easy. Get Santana and leave. But I couldn't move walls. They had big walls and I was just one person. I couldn't move them.
Quinn quickly had given up on waiting for me to say something. She walked in the house and only seconds later was back outside.
My purse slammed into my chest. It knocked a grunt of air out of my lungs before it fell and hit the porch. Everything fell out. My phone, my wallet, my coin purse. Her throwing my purse was the last thing I had expected.
I reached for Santana, but she had already slapped Quinn.
It was the loudest slap I had ever heard. It startled me. My body jumped almost too much in response and it hurt.
Quinn stood there with big eyes and her hand pressed against her cheek. I couldn't believe Santana had done that. I was speechless and unable to do anything, because I couldn't believe she did that.
But it was silly for me to be this surprised. I knew Santana and I knew she sometimes did things in big ways.
"Get your stupid shit off of my porch," Quinn spoke through gritted teeth. Her surprised doe-eyes were gone.
"Shut the fuck up." Santana bent down to pick up my purse. I squatted with her and picked up things as quickly as I could. I wanted to leave. I felt sick and too warm. "And stop freaking out." Santana was flustered. Obviously she hadn't liked slapping Quinn and maybe she hadn't meant to. Quinn was one of her her closest friends. "It's not like your mom caught you kissing Brittany." She mumbled that last part.
"Oh, my, God, Brittany." Quinn emphasized and separated each word. "It only took two seconds for you to start repeating things you don't understand?"
I stood up and shook my head. I didn't repeat anything.
Quinn continued. "You really obsess about Santana that much?" Her words were so strong and whip-like, but she looked so baffled. "I live in the same house as the two of you and I hear your conversations. Just because you think you can't say things properly doesn't give you any right to start saying whatever you want. Santana isn't going to leave just because you forget to repeat every pathetic thing you could possibly repeat."
I knew Quinn didn't mean it. Even if she had hit a little too close to home, I knew she was only trying to fix her feelings.
"Excuse me?" Santana cocked her head.
We were leaving. I grabbed Santana's hand and I pulled her. We had to leave. This conversation had gone way too far and now everyone was saying and doing things that should be secrets. Santana would never slap someone she cared about and Quinn would never say things like that. They were scared-reactions.
I dragged Santana to the car. At first she resisted and told me to let go, but when I didn't she just walked with me. I heard Quinn say some other things, but I ignored them. I made myself not listen, because secrets weren't for the wrong people to hear.
When we got in the car Santana zoomed down the road so fast. For a second I thought she was going to run a stop sign or hit a dog, but then she calmed down and slowed down and instead of driving like a maniac she started driving really slow.
"What did she say to you?" Santana broke the silence. I could barely hear her speak and hearing her speak made me remember that talking was what I wanted. I wanted to get away from Quinn so I could talk to Santana and explain everything.
I shrugged.
"Fuck!" she cursed and then took in a breath. "Brittany, what did she say to you?"
She was mad. Very mad. It made me mad. I didn't understand why everyone was mad and it was stupid. "I told you that you don't need to take care of me." I had to bite down and clench my own jaw to keep myself from saying more. But it was true. Santana didn't have to ruin her friendship with Quinn.
"She threw your purse at you and you just stood there!" Santana yelled. I wasn't used to her yelling at me. And I didn't like it, especially because it was from the one person I had wanted to run away and hide with.
I shrugged again. I knew it would make her angry that I was shrugging, but I didn't know how to yell at her. Maybe shrugging was my way of yelling.
"I'm not taking care of you," Santana lowered her voice but looked just as angry. I heard her take in and let out another breath. "I wasn't there when Karofksy was saying things to you and I didn't say anything when Rachel was being a bitch at Breadstix. But if I have to slap every fucking person in this world for you to realize you are more important than you give yourself credit for then I will do it. Nobody, not even Quinn, should treat you like that."
I knew Santana was angry Quinn had not only insulted me, but us. Santana was terrified of our relationship changing her other important relationships. And Quinn was important to her. "Quinn was upset."
Santana didn't respond. No shit Quinn was upset. I continued so Santana could at least have something to respond to. "I think she's lonely."
"Everyone is lonely," Santana responded.
"I'm not." I didn't miss a beat with my response. And I wasn't lonely. Having someone like Santana was the most un-lonely thing in the world. I started to fiddle with my shorts. My response had been too quick and Santana wasn't saying anything.
Was she lonely? I felt my body twitch, almost like it was rewinding and thinking about everything again. No. I would know. I peeked over at Santana. Why wasn't she answering? She was just looking forward. She had family and she had friends and sometimes she had big walls. Sure it could be lonely inside big walls, but wasn't I on her side of the wall? Maybe she didn't know she was supposed to say something. Maybe she wasn't even supposed to say something and I was having crazy thoughts.
"And anyone who is dating Brittany isn't lonely," she smiled. It should have been a relief to hear her say that, but it wasn't. I still felt crazy.
Santana knew about Quinn. I knew she knew something. She was smart. She reached for my hand and pulled it in her lap and I felt a little less crazy. It was easy to forget crazy thoughts like that around her.
We were quiet the rest of the car ride. I played with Santana's hand and the ring on her finger. She must have just found it recently, because I thought it was lost. She insisted Marcus had swallowed it. Anyone would think she sounded insane for that accusation, but I was there when Marcus didn't want to give back this little marble thing, shoved it in his mouth, ran away, and then came back two seconds later in tears because it was in his belly. Santana had gotten really mad at him, especially after he had pretended to choke.
She parked and I was about to open my door, but she pulled me back by my hand. "Do you remember when I said I had no clue what I was doing?"
I was scurrying through my mind trying to pinpoint when she had said that. It was easy. I nodded. Her saying she loved me had been one of the best conversations ever and that's when she had said that.
"What about it?" I started to play with her ring again. When I looked at her from the corner of my eye she looked so tired. "Sorry you slapped Quinn." The apology slipped out of my mouth the instant I remembered why she probably looked that tired.
She took in and let out a quick breath. And then she took in another breath and I didn't hear her let it out. "I don't know what I'm doing."
I just waited for her to continue. She never did. I think she just needed a few minutes to sit and think.
When she said she was ready to go inside she held my hand all the way through the parking lot. It was cute and not something we normally did. I was smiling so big because maybe she needed to hold my hand to calm down. I liked giving her things she needed.
Santana went to change into her outfit and I went and sat at the piano. I didn't start work for another hour. So I stared at the sheet music. It looked like it should be easy to understand, but I had no clue how anyone could ever possibly understand it. How did you know which key to push? I glanced down at the piano keys and then back at the papers. Why were there so many notes and what if you had short fingers and couldn't reach?
"Hey there!" Tina greeted me and also startled me. "Sorry," she apologized.
I started to get up from the bench figuring she was here to practice, but she told me to stay and sat down next to me. So I stayed and she started to shuffle through the music.
"Are you okay?" she asked. It sounded like she knew that was an appropriate question. "You've been sitting here for twenty minutes and haven't even played any notes." She teased.
I returned a smile. "I don't know how to play," I reminded her.
She rolled her eyes and flipped through a few more sheets of music before she set one up. "I just had one of the weirdest conversations of my life. People always assume I won't repeat what they say." She winked and it made me giggle, because it was true. Tina didn't repeat stuff unless it was important someone else heard.
"Who's singing this?" I asked about the sheet music she had just set up. Skyscraper.
"Santana."
What? I turned and looked around the restaurant and bar. No Santana. Mercedes was serving a table and Rachel was behind the bar, but I couldn't find anyone else. Why would Santana change her song? I knew this wasn't what she had picked, because I had spied on her song last night.
"Can I ask a question?" Tina played a few of the keys. It was probably the first note of the song.
"Sure." My nerves started to make nervous. If Tina, one of my closest friends, was asking permission to ask a question, then it was worthy of getting nervous about. The only other time I could remember her asking me if she could ask a questions was after we first met and she asked if I was close with my mom.
She played another note by pressing a whole bunch of keys at once. "Would you and Santana like to go to bowling night? Mike's parents always invite their friends and not that I don't enjoy the company, but everyone is forty years older than us. It'd be nice to have a couple our age."
I loved Tina. "Fun." I was smiling way too big, but I didn't care. "I'll ask Santana."
Tina was easy. She knew stuff. She didn't get mad at me for sometimes sneaking into Santana's room at night like Rachel did and she didn't confuse me like Quinn did. She didn't even know too much like Mercedes. Mercedes knew too much about me and Santana's relationship because her room was right next to ours and the walls were thin…
Tina played a different note.
That wasn't all she had wanted to say. I could tell. Part of what made Tina so simple, was that she was so simple. "We can order pizza while we're there," I said. I tried as hard as I could to keep the conversation about bowling and Santana.
Tina sighed and pulled her hands away from the keys. My body sunk into itself. But I refused to think of worst possible scenarios. I was already so burned out.
"Quinn was talking to Rachel and me-," Tina paused. I whipped around to scan the bar again and again I only saw Rachel. "-about you and Santana," Tina finished.
What? No. Impossible. What about us? I heard a laugh and it had to come from me. Quinn hadn't even been able to talk to me earlier, so she wasn't going to talk to other people about that. There was no way Tina meant what I thought she meant.
"I'm not sure if it's okay she's saying what she's saying. Quinn never goes out of her way to talk to Rachel and rarely talks with me." Tina turned to face me even more. "What she was saying seemed a little," she paused, "out of place."
I was staring and expressionless. My heart was probably racing, but I was too focused on Tina to notice.
"It's stupid," Tina rolled her eyes and put her hands back on the piano. She played a few notes in a row.
No. It was important. "What'd she say?" I finally asked, because I knew Tina was waiting for me to give her permission.
"To make a long story short and less graphic..." Tina stopped playing the piano. "She was saying something about how her mom walked in on you and Santana rounding third base."
No.
My stomach dropped.
"I know," Tina nodded. "She's over exaggerating. Quinn tends to do that."
She does?
"She can't tell people that." It felt a knot start to form in my throat.
I think Tina regretted telling me. So I tried to stop looking so upset. But I couldn't. That was for me and Santana and accidentally for Quinn to know about. It was private. It shouldn't be for other people to hear. What if Santana knew she was saying things? Santana was going to find out. She was going to be hurt and ashamed and angry, just like in the car, but this time a million times worse.
Tina didn't know what else to say. I didn't blame her.
I felt like a rubber band that had snapped. I pinched my lips together so hard. I couldn't form any thoughts that made sense. None other than wondering where Quinn was. This needed to be fixed. Now.
I turned and looked for her. She was at the stupid bar.
I stood up and I marched straight for her. Everything I felt was entirely too big. My body was shaking. I had to clench my fists to keep what little control I had left. Why would she say that? I squeezed my fists tighter and dug my nails into my skin.
Quinn saw me coming and what made it worse was she didn't care. She glanced at me and then went back to stacking glasses like it was okay.
I reached the bar and she still didn't look up. "Stop talking about what happened," I whispered, but it wasn't that quiet. I was too angry for it to be quiet. I didn't understand how anyone ever controlled anything they said or did when they were angry. I wanted to pick up stools and throw them across the restaurant. I wanted Quinn to know I was angry.
"What?" She didn't look up.
"I'm with Santana," I snapped back at her. I was trying so hard to be careful with what I said, but it was hard. "You can't go around treating my relationship with Santana the way you are. It's important to her and it's important to me."
Quinn laughed. She fucking laughed.
"Oh my God," I whispered because I was way too mad to just think it. "It's not a joke," I hissed. I knew her laugh had been because she was nervous, but I wasn't processing those things like I should be. She shouldn't be nervous if she as being mean.
"I didn't say it was a joke," Quinn snapped back. "I said what happened. If you're going to bring your relationship into my bed without thinking twice about it, then why should I think twice about what I say?"
I held my hands up. I was so, so, so frustrated. I clenched my fists and then slowly unclenched them. "Don't talk about it," I demanded. It was the only thing I could get out. Santana was too important to me and her family was too important to Santana to have something stupid like me kissing her on a bed mess those things up.
Quinn let out another, short, breathy laugh.
I slapped the glasses over that she had been stacking. They were plastic so they didn't break. But they were noisy.
Quinn jumped. I figured it was loud enough for other people to hear, but unless someone was watching they would think it was an accident. "What are you doing?" Quinn snapped at me. "Are you crazy?"
No. I think. No. I wasn't crazy.
"Was it because she slapped you?" I started to search for a reason. I was desperate. "You're telling secrets because she slapped you?" She couldn't go around saying a secret like that, that big, and expect bad things not to happen.
She looked away from me and started to stack the remaining cups that I hadn't knocked over. She was going to ignore me.
"What?" I said. It felt like too many of my muscles were too tense. "Now you have nothing to say?" My mind was running too fast, I had too many little things I wanted to spit at her and I didn't know which one would convince her to stop repeating what had happened and instead talk to me in private.
She slammed a cup down. "Are you that clueless?"
I jumped.
"I can't believe how obsessed you are with her," Quinn laughed again and that nearly sent me off the edge. "The only way I can get you to pay any attention to me is if I go through her. Everything is about her. I get it, you lost your mom and you're grieving and hurt, but if you're not careful you're going to lose everyone else. Rachel was right. You are so locked up inside of yourself."
"What?" I didn't know how much of that was true and how much of it was Quinn being upset. I wanted her to repeat it.
She rolled her eyes. It made me laugh, but not a nice laugh. I couldn't believe how angry I was. I knew I was too angry and I didn't know how to stop it.
"You are so obsessed with Santana," Quinn talked slow and separated each word. "That the only way for me to get your attention is through her. You wouldn't have thought twice about coming over here and talking to me if I had only said something about you to everyone. For goodness sake, you left me crying in my bathroom so you could leave with her."
Was she joking? "You told me to leave!" I threw my hands up again. Big gestures felt like the only way to emphasize how confused I was.
"Santana was outside-," Quinn stopped. She shook her head. "Forget it."
I watched her shuffle around the cups for a second. "I'm here to talk," I tried to get her attention. "So talk." She wasn't looking at me. "If you have something to say." My voice started to shake so I stopped. It was because I was so angry. Angry to the point where I didn't know if yelling, stomping, crying, or storming away was appropriate.
"Go away," Quinn mumbled.
It was so hard to hold in my reaction, but I was too scared to react. Instead I stood there like an idiot. "Please," I begged.
No response.
"Quinn," I tried to get her attention, but she still wasn't looking. I felt exactly like I had felt when my mom kicked me out and Puck had picked me up. Like I couldn't do something as simple as have a conversation with someone I cared about.
"Stop," I told her. She still refused to acknowledge me. I started to say something and forced myself to stop. But I couldn't keep it in any longer. I was scared. "Leave me alone." My voice shook. I swallowed the nerves in my throat and continued. "I'm in love with Santana, not obsessed. You're obsessed with me." I swallowed again. I knew that wasn't true, but I didn't know what else to say.
Quinn's entire body flinched and even though she didn't look at me I knew she had heard me.
Rachel walked up. Of course Rachel walked up. Rachel always walked up. "What's going on?" She looked back and forth between Quinn and me.
Neither of us answered.
I was embarrassed and angry at the same time, which meant my face was abnormally red.
"You can't just leave those on the ground, Quinn." Rachel pointed at the plastic glasses that were scattered behind the bar. "You girls are knocking over glasses, Santana is changing her song last minute and nobody is taking anything seriously."
I snuck a glance at Quinn long enough to see her crouched down picking up the cups and rubbing the heel of her hand across her cheek. She was crying. I had made her cry.
So I walked away. Rachel followed and was saying something about Santana switching her song, but I didn't listen. I rounded the bar and pushed the door open into the back. And the first thing I did when I got in the back was look for Santana. But then I stopped myself. I was too confused to talk.
"Hey there, hot stuff." Holly swooped in. "Where's the fire?" I had been too busy wanting to find Santana and then trying not to find Santana that I hadn't noticed she was back here. Was she talking to me? I looked around. It was just Rachel standing behind me. "I'm all for letting your frustration out on inanimate objects, but we need that door to be functional."
"Sorry," I was trying so hard to collect myself. Everything felt so quick. Quick. Quick. Quick. I couldn't keep up, I couldn't decide.
"No worries," Holly said and shrugged. "It could have been worse, especially if you had been going to those jazzercise classes with me."
Holly always cheered me up. Her mood was the most contagious thing in the world. Usually. But right now it wasn't. I didn't get it. I didn't get why she was so happy and I didn't want to talk. So I kept quiet. I was so scared of saying something that I would regret, because I already regretted making Quinn cry. I hated doing that. It made me feel gross.
"What's with the sourpuss?" Holly peeked past me and raised an eyebrow at Rachel. "Ouch," Holly cringed when we made eye contact. If she wouldn't have said ouch, I wouldn't have noticed I had rolled my eyes.
"Sorry," I immediately apologized. I wasn't rolling my eyes at her. It had to do with what I was thinking.
"No, no," Holly said. "Don't apologize."
We all three stood there. It was awkward. I was awkward, they were fine. But I guess it was better than running into Santana, so it wasn't that bad. My mind kept skipping and repeating what I had said to Quinn. I should go back out there. That was mean. Did Rachel hear what I had said? I turned around and looked at her.
"I need to clock in," I mumbled. I didn't like standing and not talking to them.
"Pfft," Holly waved off what I said with her hand. "Rachel was headed that way, she can do you a solid."
"I was?" Rachel spoke from behind me.
"I can do it," I blurted and then nearly ran off.
I walked as fast as I could and it finally felt like I could take a breath when I got in the break room. My hand shook when I tried to open my locker. I stopped halfway through the combination, realizing I didn't even need to open it. Instead I took a seat on a bench nearby and that's all I did. Sat. I sat and I forced myself to stop thinking.
I didn't know if apologizing now or later was better. Or maybe no apology. Yes, I should apologize. Quinn didn't deserve that. My stomach turned over and over. Why did I do that? "So stupid," I whispered.
And then I heard exactly what I knew would happen. Santana and Quinn yelling. Every other word was a bad word. After a few seconds I just zoned out and pretended I couldn't hear what was happening. Listening to them fight started making me really feel like puking. They would stop soon. One of the girls would interrupt them and if I went out there, I would make it worse. I had already made it worse. All I had to do was hide out in here until I felt less sick.
The locker room door slammed open and then shut. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I knew it was Santana before I saw her.
"Oh." She stopped and I swear every bit of frustration and anger drained from her face.
But then she spoke and I knew she was still mad. "What's wrong?" she asked. She continued talking as if she hadn't asked the question. "She's fucking pathetic."
I interrupted. I knew Santana was angry, but I also knew she wouldn't normally say what she was going to say. "Did you yell at her?"
"She wouldn't even talk to me," Santana huffed. The break room door opened and shut. Santana didn't hear it. She kept going. "She let Puck get her pregnant, twice, she's competing with me for God knows what, and now she's running her mouth about you and me. This is why nobody likes her. This is why Puck knew she was pregnant and pretended he didn't know. He actually came to me, asked what was going on, said he'd rather not be involved with her, and then bribed me not to tell her he knew about her baby. She's crazy. Quinn Fabray is crazy."
Halfway through Santana's rant I saw Quinn. But I couldn't stop Santana. Santana was venting. She had every right to. In fact, she kind of reminded me of one of those cartoons that turned into a bouncing, steaming, crazy mess.
I pointed at Quinn. Again, secrets weren't meant for the wrong people to hear.
Quinn looked between us, didn't cry, didn't say anything, and then she left.
Santana stood there for a second. She looked more hurt than Quinn had. I knew a million thoughts were racing through her mind at a million miles per hour, but she was holding it all in.
Did we talk now? I didn't know. "Are yo-"
Santana cut me off. Not in a rude way. We just had both talked at the same time. "I'm going to go back out." She stopped.
I nodded. And then I swallowed the lump that was building up in my throat. "Quinn is just so lonely." I wanted Santana to know this wasn't her fault and it really wasn't Quinn's fault. It was just something that happened. It was important that Santana knew that. My mind started to race and I had to explain. I had to say something that made sense.
She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight from one leg to another. She looked so uneasy. Fuck. She cursed under her breath.
"I don't like Quinn saying that stuff. I tried to talk to her. I said something mean. But-, I don't understand, I mean, I do understand." I stopped. Too many words at once. "She..." I stopped again. Quinn was lonely. She was scared. I think the only way she knew how to protect herself was to put her walls up. Except she had sharp scary walls. Santana had turtle shell walls and Quinn had porcupine walls.
Santana restrained a very small, very weak, smile. She shook her head, rolled her eyes, and then unfolded her arms. "I said mean things too." She walked over and sat by me.
I felt weird. Really weird. Not sick feeling, not angry, not sad, just weird. Maybe this was how you were supposed to feel after you did something mean. Empty? No. Not empty. Like something was wrong. That was the only way I could describe it. I felt like something was wrong.
Santana laid her head on my shoulder. Her head felt heavy and I figured it was from all the thoughts that were running through it. "I shouldn't have been mean," she said.
I closed my eyes and rested my head against hers. I didn't know if it would be true to say, it's okay or it will be fine. So I just said something I knew. "It was an accident."
I didn't know if that helped, but I felt her head nod.
We sat. And sat. The longer we sat the more I realized this wasn't solving anything. It was just making me impatient. My hands were clammy and when she reached for my hand my heart somersaulted. Gross. She didn't want to touch my icky hands. "Sorry," I apologized.
"Hm?" Santana hummed.
I pulled my hand away. It easily slid out from hers. I wiped the sweat against my shorts. I didn't look at Santana. I was trying to keep things simple until I felt less crazy. Whenever I felt weird it always went away and I always felt like I overreacted. So I just won't react now and figure it out later. "I need to clock in." I stood up and walked over to the timecards.
I could feel her watching me. Each step I took felt like it meant something and like she knew another secret just from watching. I pinched my lips together, thinking maybe that would make it harder for her to see something was wrong. And nothing was seriously wrong. Something was only temporary wrong. I would talk to Quinn and I would apologize and it would be better.
Where was my card? I looked at the cards and didn't even read them. I didn't even know what I was thinking anymore. I was spacing out. I knew I was.
What was I doing? One second I wanted to talk to Santana, the next I didn't. One second I knew why I was angry and then the next I wasn't angry.
I clocked in. I knew this was backwards relationship progress. I wanted to talk to her. I should talk to her. So I put my card back and I walked to her. She was still on the bench and watching me. I leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Can we talk about this later?" We could talk later. I smiled. Why didn't I think of that sooner?
"Of course," she agreed and I knew she didn't feel as relieved as I did, but it was a start.
I kissed her cheek one more time and then sat down next to her. I reached for her hand. "You switched your song?"
"Maybe," Santana laughed and put her head back on my shoulder. Her laugh didn't sound like her normal laugh. It was half a laugh, because I think the other half of her was still upset about what she had said.
We sat in the break room for a while, just talking. She told me what the song was about and said really sweet things about me. It made me blush. She said she wished that everyone who lost something important or someone important would become stronger. She also said some things about skyscrapers and escalator-friends, and it made me laugh. That certain people were skyscrapers and other people were escalators inside the skyscraper that helped make it bigger and better. She got mad that I laughed at her metaphor, but then I told her I wasn't laughing because it was bad. It was sweet. And I told her I was also laughing because Rachel wouldn't want to be referred to as one of my escalators.
xxxx
Quinn wasn't behind the bar with us. I saw her walking around a few times and she would come up and place drink orders for different tables, but she never stayed long enough to actually talk or make eye contact with anyone.
I overheard her ask Will if she could leave early. Will said she could when it slowed down. I wasn't sure if I wanted her to leave or stay. I think I just wanted the day to start over so I could do it differently.
If I could get her attention, I could tell her I didn't mean what I had said and Santana hadn't mean what she had said. I had it planned out. First I would say sorry and then I would tell her we meant none of it. Especially Santana.
"What?" I noticed someone was trying to order a drink from me.
"I got it." Rachel was already filling a glass of beer from the tap.
Next customer. I looked for one and then stopped looking. I peeked over at Santana for the millionth time tonight. I was hoping one of the times we would make eye contact, but each time I looked I never caught her looking in my direction.
I could just walk over there. It's not like there was a line in the bar I couldn't cross. So I walked over to Santana. She was mixing a blue drink. When I reached her, she turned, we bumped into each other and the drink spilled all over my sloth shirt.
My breath hitched, because it was so cold.
"Sorry," Santana and me both said at the same time. She set the drink on the counter and scurried to find a bar towel.
I pinched the wet part of my shirt and peeled it away from my skin.
"I can't find a dry towel." Santana walked back. It looked like she thought this was the worst thing in the world.
"It's fine," I rubbed my fingers over the wet spot.
"Brittany!" Rachel called from the other side of the bar. She wanted me to come back and help.
I gave Santana a goodbye smile and then made my way over to Rachel. I helped a couple customers, both of which kept staring at my blue spots, and then I saw Quinn. She grabbed a few drinks Rachel had made and then took them out to a table. And then she went to the bathroom.
Quinn stayed in the bathroom for a long time. And then I saw Santana leave from behind the bar and for a second I thought she was going to follow Quinn to the bathroom, but then she just went up to the stage.
She was going to sing. Santana singing was one of my favorite things. Santana talking, Santana kissing, Santana anything. They were all my favorite. But now I felt a little weird for her being my favorite and for being so excited.
"Hey," Santana hummed into the microphone and her voice echoed over the crowd. I always loved when one of the girls talked over the crowd cheering. It made them look so important and I bet it made them feel important. "I wanted to sing a song for someone." I watched as Santana studied the crowd. It was weird how the stage was taller than everyone watching, but made Santana look so small. She cleared her throat. "For someone who feels lonely."
That was all she had to say for me to realize what she was doing. I couldn't believe it, but then I realized while I was having a hard time believing what Santana was doing, I was already racing towards the bathroom. My head was pounding. I needed to find Quinn and convince her to come out of the bathroom.
I wished she had at least been by the sinks when I slammed open the bathroom door, but she wasn't. I saw her feet underneath the second stall.
"Quinn?" I called as I heard the music start playing. Maybe she didn't need to see Santana. She could be in here and still listen.
She didn't answer. I didn't expect her too, I mostly said her name so she would know I was here.
I walked over and tapped my knuckles against her door. The music was so loud. It sounded distorted in the bathroom, kind of like we were listening to music underneath the water.
"Did you want to watch Santana with me?" I asked.
No answer.
"She's singing a song for you."
No answer.
"That's okay we can listen in here. I'll sit with you," I decided and then walked into the stall next to Quinn's. I sat on the toilet and I listened to Santana sing. It was pretty.
I was surprised I was smiling.
"You can hold my hand." I stuck my hand underneath the stall for Quinn. I didn't expect her to grab it, but that wasn't the point.
She started to cry. Broken, rough, soft cries. I really wish she had let me into her stall. But I guess if she had done that then she wouldn't be skyscraper-Quinn. She wouldn't be one of the strongest women I have ever known. "This song is about skyscrapers," I kept my hand out for her just in case she changed her mind. "Santana told me what it was about earlier." I heard Santana's song echoing in the bathroom, the music echoing, and I also heard Quinn's muffled cries. "It's about skyscrapers being really tall. Also about how people like noticeable things, but people also are intimidated by noticeable things too. It makes it really hard for skyscrapers. It's windy at the top." I knew I was mixing metaphors and Santana had said it better, but I kept going because I was already sitting on a toilet and I was already holding my hand out for her. I might as well say everything. I was so tired of not being able to say things. "Someday you will find someone that fits with you, Quinn. Skyscrapers need other skyscrapers."
Her voice bubbled and I barely heard her. "But you are a skyscraper."
I wasn't even close to being a skyscraper. "I'm not," I said in between a breath. It was so hard to not cry with her. I wanted to. So bad. But then I remember two people crying at the same time was scary.
"I'm with Santana," I said. That was hard to say to her. I didn't want it to be. I wanted her to like me and Santana and I wanted her to not be sad. But I was with Santana and I loved Santana.
I was just about to pull my hand back when she reached for it and held it. She grabbed my fingers and squeezed them in her fist. She said something and the only word that cracked through her throat that I understood was lonely.
I waited and listened and kept making wishes that she wouldn't be so sad.
It was getting too hard to listen to her struggle. "I'll be an escalators in your skyscraper, if you want? I like being your friend."
She laughed. That was a good sign.
Santana was getting close to the end of the song, which meant people were going to come in and use the bathroom soon.
"You know," Quinn sniffled. "Holding my hand and being so sweet to me isn't going to convince me that you're not a skyscraper, you big cheese ball."
I laughed too. She pulled her hand away and I left my stall and waited by her door until she was ready.
