Title: Waiting On The World To Change [Part Twenty One A]
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6.7k
Author's Note: I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry, but here you go! Part B will be out as soon as it's ready but if you pressure me or my beta it's not going to happen. We both have other priorities. But on a cheerier note, this is dedicated to my beta for reasons! :)
Time goes by.
Even though each second that passes is slower and more painful than the one before, the clock just keeps on ticking and eventually, the days just go by in a blur.
And Santana doesn't really know how to feel about that.
She doesn't really know how to feel about anything anymore.
There's still that gut wrenching guilt inside of her, that tugs harder and harder every time she walks down the hallways of McKinley High and is hit with the memory of what she did, of what happened and how she broke Brittany's heart. And fuck, she's hurting too, she knows that, but it seems no-one else does.
Or no-one else cares about her.
Yeah, that's the reason.
But it's the least she deserves, all this suffering. God only knows if it weren't for her making that stupid bet, she wouldn't be in this position. She wouldn't be sobbing herself to sleep, clutching at her pillow and whimpering against the fabric as the good memories flash across her eyelids. She wouldn't be wishing that she'd never given into Quinn's antics, and hoping that time really does heal all wounds because if not, she'll be living a half life.
She wouldn't be here and Brittany would still be smiling angelically, completely oblivious to everything poisonous in the world. And by poisonous, Santana means everything she's ever touched.
There's just that hope that maybe one day things will get better.
She can't help but think if she'd just taken her damn phone with her, instead of leaving it at home on the weekend, things might have turned out different. Things might not be the way they are now and she could have Brittany in her arms, smiling and laughing as she slowly threads their fingers together.
She can't help but think that if one tiny, little thing had been different, her situation now could be different.
That's one of the worst things: wondering what couldhave happened.
But the past can't be changed, and now Santana has to live with it forever.
With every day that passes, it becomes more and more obvious how much she misses Brittany.
First of all it's in her posture; how her shoulders slump further and further, and her body deflates just that little more.
Second of all it's her mind; how it takes that split second longer to react or answer to a question thrown her way by the teacher, or how she wonders that if things had been different, would Brittany be beside her, laughing and kissing her on the cheek as she whispered "you're such a dork" in her ear.
Then third, it's her heart. It's the way her heart clenches whenever a blonde girl walks past, or how her stomach sinks when she realizes it's not her blonde. Or how when she thinks that it wasn't her blonde, that her blonde isn't even hers.
It's the little things that make her realize how much she misses Brittany, and the first time she walks by Brittany in the hallway, she almost breaks down right then and there. The moment is so fleeting, so damn quick that Santana wishes she could reach out and hold it, just to treasure it for one second longer. It's the first contact she's had with Brittany in weeks, and instead of feeling the steps of her body, her mind and then her heart missing Brittany, it all happens at once and it's so overwhelming that the rush of it is almost welcoming.
Brittany's eyes flicker towards her, and it's only for a second that their eyes lock, but Santana finds it a little easier to breathe, a little easier to move and a little easier to live. Because, if only for a moment, there's just that little more color in Santana's world, and it's just that little bit brighter.
But then Brittany's gone and Santana's left standing in the hallway, staring off into the distance and wishing that the stupid fucking space in her heart wasn't there anymore. She's just left there, watching the only good thing in her life walk away for the second time and the rush sinks out of her body and everything turns grey again.
The weekend comes quickly and, for that, Santana is grateful.
Even if she's just lying on the sofa, mindlessly flicking through the TV channels with her cheek pressed against the cushion and a tiny bit of drool seeping out the corner of her mouth, she's still grateful for the weekend. It means two whole days and three whole nights of weeping and being able to wallow in her own deep pit of self-pity, where she can let her emotions run free and crack open that bottle of tears she's been hiding during school hours.
But apparently her mom doesn't have the same idea for her.
"You need to get up," her mother says, her tone more demanding than suggestive.
Santana doesn't take her eyes off the TV, and wiggles her legs until one dangles off the side of the sofa. "I'm fine," she replies flatly.
(It's the only way she can reply, nowadays.)
"Get up, Santana," her mother continues and leans down to swipe at her legs, knocking them off the cushions and making Santana's body twist awkwardly so half of it remains on the sofa, and half doesn't. "You need to."
"No," the words come out muffled against the sofa cushion. "No, I don't. Please..." her voice cracks and she winces at the way it reminds her of Brittany said that word. "Just let me lie here."
"Santana..."
"Ma, I'm fine. Just leave me alone."
Her mother doesn't give in though, and instead takes a seat where Santana's legs where only minutes ago, soothing her hand up and down Santana's back as Santana curls up into the fetal position on two of the three cushions.
"What's got into you, mija?" She asks, tentatively. "You've been like this for nearly a week. What's wrong?"
Santana doesn't answer. Not 'cause she can't, but because she won't. She's too afraid that 'I managed to break Brittany's heart' or 'I'm a complete bitch, that's what's up' will pour out her mouth, along with the foul, promiscuous truth that is her past. And she thinks that even that tale would make her own damn mom click her tongue and shake her head at the games she once thought were a good idea to play.
Even she's ashamed of what she's done.
"Nothing," she gets out, swallowing thickly and dropping her hand - and the remote - to the floor. "I'm fine."
Out the corner of her eye she watches her mom's mouth pop open, probably ready to come back with some smart ass comment and for some reason, it really pisses Santana off. All these possibilities run through her mind and suddenly she's angry. It hits her like a whip and she twists her body, throws her legs off the couch and stands up before turning to her mother who's staring at her wide eyed and curious.
"Just fucking stop, Mom. Seriously," Santana hisses and balls her hands into fists by her thighs. "I said I'm fucking fine so would you just leave me the hell alone and go back to whatever the fuck you do with your spare time?"
Her mom's eyes darken, and Santana almost thinks that there's no point in trying to apologize 'cause her ass is going to be out the house by tonight. But then she sees that something in her mom's eyes. That something that makes her own stomach sink because she's seen it before; in Kindergarten when she thought it was a good idea to dance around Mrs Matthew's classroom and throw toilet paper everywhere, in third grade when she pushed Noah Puckerman face first into some dirt because he called her a weirdo with boy parts, or even in tenth grade when her mom told her to try her hardest at her piano but Santana didn't think she was going to pass, so she put zero effort in and didn't even try.
Disappointment.
It's that same damn look and when her eyes recognize the signs that her mom's feeling the same way right at this instant, her shoulders slump and body deflates, almost like a little child's would do when their parent scolded them.
"You know, Santana," her mother says, voice thick with her Spanish accent. "You were a lot nicer when Brittany was around," she pauses and takes in a deep breath and Santana just squeezes her eyes shut against the way the words settle low in her gut. "She made you a better person."
It slices straight through her heart, the wound ragged and rough, and Santana doesn't make eye contact with her mom as she slumps back down onto the sofa, all the fight draining out of her. There's no need to respond. There's not even any point in giving her mom the satisfaction of breathing out a sighed I know because her mom's already staring down at her with lips pinched up at the side, her eyes just screaming but you already know that, and Santana can't disagree.
So, because she's tired of this constant nagging, Santana twists her head and body away from her mom and shifts further back into the sofa. "Just leave me alone, Ma."
And her mother does, but not before shaking her head and letting Santana see the way the disappointment in her expression ten folds.
Santana waits until her mom is out of earshot to let the tears flow freely.
Santana gets all the way to the front door before it registers exactly where she is. The one thing she doesn't know, though, is what led her here. Or actually, why in the hell on the drive over she wasn't consciously aware of where the car was taking her.
But it doesn't really seem to matter, because now she's here; the large door staring down at her and the number glaring too. The blueness of the paint makes her heart clench, but it's so blue that it reminds her of a particular set of eyes. But she pushes the thoughts away and steps back, taking in her scenery and kick starting her brain into action. There's no way she can stay here.
What if someone's already seen her though?
Fuck.
Swiftly turning on her heels, Santana makes a beeline for her car, clamping her fingers around the set of keys in her hand and ignoring the way the metal digs into her palm. She can feel heat spread across her skin, sweat building upon the nape of her neck as the car gets closer and closer and she prays to the heavens that her presence hasn't been noticed.
God's never been on her side though, so when someone calls her name from behind her, she slows to a stop, tips her head back, stares at the sky and internally curses the Big Man. Really, though, it shouldn't be surprising, because God's never been on her side, and she's not sure why now that'd suddenly change. Hell, it's not like she goes to church every Sunday, but she does go on the occasions that freaking matter, and she knows her Hail Mary off by heart, as well as the Lord's Prayer, so she thought that that might help her just a little bit, but apparently not.
"Santana?"
Santana breathes in deeply, feet turning awkwardly until she's facing faded blue eyes and dull golden hair. "Um... hi."
Susan stands in the doorway, head tilted and eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"
Santana's jaw drops open to reply, but then she finds a lack of connection between words and her mouth and clamps it shut again, eyes darting around the Pierce's front yard. The truth is, she doesn't actually have a clue why she's here. The last conscious decision she made was to switch the TV channel to NBC to check on the Olympics, but from there on out her mind's pretty much running blank.
Licking her lips, she takes one final glance around the yard before taking a sheepish step forward, hands ringing together in front of her. "Is Brit-Brittany in... Plea-please?"
"I don't think you should be here, Santana."
That brings her eyes back up to Susan's, and Santana's heart pounds loudly against her chest as she watches the older woman step out onto the stoop, lifting her chin and crossing her arms across her chest. Santana gulps, knowing a glare that says you're not wanted when she sees one and instinctively takes a step back, toes curling inside of her shoes in hesitation.
"Susan, I-I jus–"
"That's Mrs Pierce to you," Susan cuts in, her brow shifting into an arch and jaw clenching slightly, and Santana's entire body stiffens.
She feels the ties – the ones that bind her and Brittany together – snap inside of her, one by painful one. It took a while, she remembers, to gain Susan's approval. It took more than a while, actually, and she endured several long conversations with the woman because she just knew that Brittany was something different. The reasons they started off may have been slightly similar to the relationships before, but that was about it when it came to Brittany. She was just different, and Santana drops her head as the pain slices through her at the memory of that point.
"Mom! Who is it?"
That voice never fails to make Santana's heart jump, and she immediately reels her head back and stares at the gap in the doorway leading into the Pierce household to find the source. It's like someone injected her with a shot of adrenaline because her heart picks up and her feet shift forward, the impulse to be closer to Brittany surging through her like electricity.
But Susan catches it before it happens, and reaches back for the door handle to pull it to a close as she shouts, "No-one, honey. Can you just stir the gravy?" in reply.
It's like someone just back handed her with a tennis racquet because her entire face falls, body darting back and the sudden energy inside her is replaced by the familiar ache of pain. Susan doesn't want her to see Brittany. Susan doesn't want her to go anywhere near Brittany, and her chin drops towards her chest, focusing on the way her Chucks skid across the pavement as she realizes that what Susan wants to happen, most probably will.
Susan's already grabbing at her forearm and forcing her further away from the house before she even realizes, and it would hurt if she wasn't expecting it.
"You need to leave, Santana."
"Mrs Pierce..." Santana winces at how vulnerable her voice sounds and swallows against it; hoping it'll fade. "Please... I just-I just need to explain–" she sucks in her lips and her eyes roam up to the top right hand window, hoping Brittany will just look out at her and come down, but she doesn't. "Please–"
"No," Susan gets out, releasing her grip and shoving lightly until Santana has to reach out to brace herself on the car. Surely that's like manhandling or something, and Susan's probably not supposed to be doing it, but Santana wasn't supposed to fall for Brittany and look how that turned out.
"You need to leave," the older woman starts again, anger still in her tone. "You need to leave Brittany alone and never come back here."
Santana glares up at Susan, frustration bleeding through her. She's fucking trying here. She's trying and Susan's not even giving her a goddamn chance. "I know you hate me," she hisses, lowly. "I know you do but please, would you just–"
Except Susan stays true to what she believes and shakes her head defiantly, eyes hardening more and more with every second they're locked onto Santana. The corner of her mouth twitches and Santana can see the snarl forming there, and she's torn between standing her ground – because that's what she's always done – and just giving up and walking away. Had she done the first option the first time, she wouldn't be here and she'd be none the wiser about Brittany Pierce; the only girl to ever break Santana doesn't-feel-anything-for-anyone Lopez.
But then she wouldn't have experienced what it was like to have Brittany, even if it was for a few fleeting moments. She wouldn't have known what it was like to wake up to Brittany in her bed, flush against her chest and breathing soundly into her pillow. She wouldn't have known what it was like to press her nose to Brittany's shoulder and inhale the smell of her skin and her love. She wouldn't have known what it was like to ride on the sweetest high possible and to know no better reason to be alive.
She wouldn't have known what it was like to feel something.
And for the first time since she stepped foot out the car, she realizes why she's here.
"I just need to see her, Mrs Pierce," Santana speaks slowly and drops her shoulders, eyes softening as they gaze into faded blue orbs. "Please," she begs through a whisper. "Please just let me explain."
And then the heavy atmosphere around them disappears. Susan drops her hands to her side and steps beside Santana, mimicking her position by leaning on the car. She reaches up to rub at her face, her eyes entirely focused on the house in front of them and a heavy sigh escaping her lips when Brittany's shadow dances across the front window's curtain.
Santana's legs just burn to run inside to see Brittany.
"I don't hate you, Santana," Susan explains, voice softer than Santana's ever heard it. It shocks Santana so much she has to twist her head to inspect the older woman's face for any trace of a lie, but there's nothing. "I don't hate you," the woman repeats, turning to meet Santana's gaze. "I'm disappointed in you."
And that disappointment is worse than anger, Santana thinks, because anger fades with time. The raw, burning emotion slowly seeps out your body and memory, eventually. It becomes a meaningless ash of it's former self and with time, you'll look back and wonder why you felt such rage.
But disappointment sticks with a person.
Someone letting you down is a feeling that no-one – absolutely no-one – will ever forget. It's something that will always pulse through you; knowing that at one time you expected more from a person and they just couldn't live up to it. Really, it's an inevitable reality of life, and that should lighten the blow a little, but it doesn't because she's never been in this position before. Sure, she's let people down in the past, it would be ridiculous to say she hadn't, but it's never felt like this before. It's never felt so heart-clenching, so painful. She's never cared that she's let anyone down before now and she thinks it's because they both have something in common that means so much to them; something blonde haired, blue eyed and wonderful in every thinkable way.
"I thought you were better than a stupid bet," the older woman sighs and Santana feels the guilt pang at her chest, the strings thrumming loudly against her ribcage until she almost has to double over at the weight of it. "I told you how much I love Brittany, and I warned you way before you two began whatever you teenagers do these days. And you gave me a speech, do you remember?"
Santana nods meekly, her mind rushing back to that day.
And I don't want to hurt her. I have no intention to, either.
The words explode through her mind like they're blaring through a boombox positioned right next to her ear, and she winces, shifting on the spot and bowing her head to the floor in shame. She's such a fucking idiot. Why didn't she keep her fucking word?
"You even recited my husband's quote about second chances, Santana, and it may sound stupid, but for that I actually believed you. I believed you wouldn't hurt Brittany and wouldn't disappoint me."
Santana swallows thickly, eyebrows pulling together in the middle of her forehead; it feels like she should say something. It feels like she should try and defend herself but it comes to her attention she wouldn't know what to say. How could she ever even think about defending herself? What she did was terrible and if she could, she really would go back and change everything. She knows she has to get a grip on things and accept that but there's that little part of her, the gaping wound in her broken heart, that's telling her what Brittany did was worse, so why should she have to defend herself?
She shakes her head at her thoughts and wills the heat away from her eyes. She won't cry, not in front of Susan.
"I've had to stay at home for the past two weeks because Brittany's been almost inconsolable," Susan's voice is getting harder as she speaks and when Santana glances up, it seems as if the woman is taller than ever. She's always been tall, but with her shoulders squared and her blue eyes hard the way they are, she seems more so than ever. It's intimidating to say the least. "The children at the hospital have wanted me and Madison keeps asking why you don't come around anymore and I don't know what to say to any of them; to Brittany, to Madison, to the children."
Santana sucks in a deep breath and clenches her jaw, heart thumping loudly and irregularly against her chest. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. Brittany was supposed to answer the door and Santana was supposed to let the words just spill from her mouth. She was supposed to explain and try, but now that she's here with Susan in front of her, judging her but pretending not to, Santana realizes that was never going to happen. Things will never be the same again and she's really fucking naïve to think that that was even a possibility. Fuck.
Maybe it's just time to give up.
(That thought rips her heart from her chest.)
"So no, Santana, I don't hate you," the older woman continues and steps back over the threshold into her house, hand coming up to grip at the door. This conversation is nearly over, Santana can tell. "But I think it'd be for the best if you never return and never talked to my daughter ever again. You'll only do more damage than you already have and I don't want that for Brittany. Is that clear?"
The words hit Santana in the stomach like a punch and she chokes out a strangled gasp, clutching at her t-shirt with a balled fist to try and control the pain. Her face contorts with anguish and the tears are just too heavy to fight, so she can't help it when a lone one trickles down her cheek and curves around her jaw. The left side of her chest hammers, but falters as nothing pulses in response and Santana feels empty, like everything, bad and good, was sucked out of her and now she's just the frame of a person that used to exist.
She's never going to talk to Brittany again. Ever.
But she can't live like that, in a world where Brittany isn't beside her. She already lived through that for seventeen years and she's not sure she can do that again.
"Mrs Pier–"
"I saidis that clear, Santana?" Susan hisses, raising an eyebrow and staring down at Santana.
And Santana can do nothing but submit to the tone. Never would she give in to someone that easily but she just doesn't have the strength to fight anymore. Susan's right after all; Santana will only do more damage if she tries with Brittany again.
So she nods once, strongly, and turns away, leaving her heart behind her.
Weeks go by in a blur. People say time flies when you're having fun but that's not right. The saying should go time flies when you're numb. It's a paradox really, because the times feels like nothing when Santana's lying in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, but when she's thinking about it and counting the time go by on the clock, the seconds seem to drag forever.
But it's not like it matters. Because it doesn't change the fact it's been four weeks; four weeks since she's heard Brittany's voice or even seen her smile. It's taken a lot of skill and time to maneuver around school without seeing Brittany, mostly because it means having to take the back ways or to skip through the fields, but she's doing the one thing Susan asked of her. Considering she's ignored everything else she promised to Brittany and Susan, this is the one thing she'll keep to: avoiding Brittany and in turn, making sure she doesn't hurt her anymore.
It's for the best.
(The best for Brittany, anyway. For Santana? Not so much.)
It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt more than she could ever imagine, though.
It's a Tuesday when her mom goes out and leaves Santana a note that makes her heart jump into her throat.
Madison's coming over for Fernando. Look after them and there's money behind the picture on the mantelpiece for a pizza. Be good, mija – Mama
The only reason it has that effect on her is because usually when Madison came over, Brittany was the one to bring her. The door would open and Santana would smile idiotically at the two blondes, bending down to hug the youngest of the two before pulling back and pulling Brittany into her body, their foreheads resting together as they greeted each other with their eyes. If Madison and Fernando had run into the playroom already, Santana would quickly peek over her shoulder and then rock onto her feet to press a kiss to Brittany's lips, moaning lightly at how Brittany would cup at her cheek, then slide past her ear and weave her long, slender fingers through dark locks to deepen the kiss. If not, she'd just peck her on the lips and they'd all go into the living room.
But that was then, and this is now. That won't happen ever again.
Santana chokes at the thought.
The doorbell rings, and Santana barely has a hold of herself as she heads towards the door and open it. A muscular man, around 6'2 is standing there with bright green eyes, a strong jaw and chocolate brown hair. Santana's entire body freezes and she stares at the man, wondering if her postman swapped with a colleague and this guy here's to drop off a parcel or something. But then she remembers it's six in the evening and she's pretty sure postmen don't deliver after like, three.
"Santana!" A little voice calls and Santana's vision snaps down to find Madison standing there. Her heart jumps into her throat and she looks up at the man again. Who is this?
"Hi, Maddie," she says, reaching over and patting the girl's head affectionately. She receives a toothy grin in return.
"Sorry, hi," the man says, and his voice is strong and smooth. Santana instantly narrows his eyes as panic surges through her. This guy can't be any older than 24 and he's dropping Maddie off. Did the Pierces get a male nanny? "Is this the Lopez household?"
Santana runs her tongue along her teeth and looks the guy up and down, trying to figure out whether the churning jealousy inside of her is for a good reason. Fernando bounds in behind her, bumping into her calves and she has to grip at the door frame to make sure she doesn't buckle. She doesn't, luckily, and as she returns to her glaring, she finds Fernando and Maddie embracing tightly, holding each other like they haven't seen each other in years. In reality, it's only been a few weeks, but she knows what it feels like when those weeks feels like years.
"Yeah," she manages to get out. "It is."
The guy smiles, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. He offers out his hand. "I'm Henry. Nice to meet you."
Santana doesn't take the hand, just crosses her arms over her chest and glares. Seriously, who the hell is this guy?
"And you are?"
"You're at my house and you're asking who I am?" She bites back, the jealousy bubbling aggressively inside of her. Henry's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline but a smile still stays on his face.
"I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you."
Santana scoffs and her upper lip curls into a small snarl. She doesn't know why she's acting so irrational towards this man but she doesn't really care. She doesn't know who this man is and he's standing at her front door with Madison by his side, smiling with a stupidly charming grin and looking like he just burst out of some Abercrombie & Fitchcatalog. The only thing she does know is that clearly Madison's comfortable with him and he's way too young for Susan, not to mention Susan's married, and a guy like this always seems to end up with a girl like Brittany.
But Brittany wouldn't. She wouldn't yet. It's too soon, right?
"Well, it's been lovely meeting you, Miss Lopez," the guy continues and Santana realizes she's just been standing there glaring at this random man. "But I'm afraid I have to get to Brittany's dance recital."
That makes all her thoughts seem not so irrational anymore and the snarl drops straight off her face, replaced with a blank expression that is somehow pained too. She clenches her jaw, biting back the sourness in her cheeks from the unwanted memories washing over her mind, and steps aside to let Fernando and Maddie through, who dart into the house and disappear into the playroom.
Fernando and Madison are playing and laughing in the den, and Santana feels her legs lead her there before she can even make the conscious decision to go. Something about being closer to Brittany, she thinks. Maddie may not be her sister, but it brings some warmth to Santana's cold heart to think that she's related to her.
She leans against the door frame when her eyes find them, and her temple follows shortly after. Fernando and Maddie are playing a game, Operation, she notices when she peers a little closer, and realizes it's The Simpsons edition. Homer is lying in the place where the normal guy is supposed to, and for the first time in weeks, her lips twitch and almost form a smile.
It's like her heart senses the ounce of happiness before it can feel it and whips it away quickly, replacing her with a punch in the gut and a large dose of pain. Her eyes close against the ache.
"I used to play this with my big sister," Fernando announces proudly and unpacks the game, tucking the lid underneath the plastic game to elevate it. "I used to think the buzzing sound was an alien."
Maddie giggles. "You're silly."
Fernando glances up at her with this ridiculously sappy grin. "I know," he smiles and Santana winces at how fucking happy he looks. She kind of hates him a little for that.
"Come on then, silly, let's play," Maddie sing-songs and shuffles forward, her side pressing into Fernando's.
"Okay..." Fernando picks up the tweezers and hands them to the young girl, clasping his small hand around hers. "But remember, don't touch the sides otherwise the aliens will come."
Maddie's eyes widen and she looks genuinely scared. "But what if I hit them, Fern?" She asks, panicked. "Will they eat me?"
"I don't know..." Fernando seems serious and pulls his dark eyebrows together. "I've never hit the sides 'cause they might come. But Tana always said they'd get me when I'm sleeping," he ducks his head and suddenly glances around. "But they could be in the room too," he whispers and Maddie's eyebrows raise, her body pressing further into Fernando's.
"Will you protect me though, Ferny?" She says and looks towards Santana's brother with wide blue eyes and an innocence that Santana wishes she had.
The way Fernando's eyes flicker to her, and how they sparkle brighter than Santana's ever seen, makes her heart hurt. She feels tears come to her eyes and thinks how crazy it is that two children can be so in love at such a young age. Even if they don't know it yet, they will soon.
"I'll always protect you, Maddie," he replies, grinning from ear to ear.
And then Maddie leans over, pressing her lips to his cheek and Santana hears the blood rush to his face. At the same time though, she hears and feels all the blood rush out of her face. Her shoulders slump and her mouth drops open, ready for the tears that are threatening to pour.
Fernando and Maddie are so young. They don't know anything about the world and they're so naïve, but Santana envies them. She envies the fact that they don't know what it's like to fall in love and have their heart broken. She envies that they haven't lived long enough to know that what they're both undeniably feeling now will tear them apart at some point. She hates that they've developed something more than friends because she knows how utterly heart-wrenching it is to know that you and your person, the one that makes your heart jump and stomach flip, just aren't meant to be.
But they're happy. They're happy and Santana doesn't want to take that away from them. Life will do that later on, and so the best and only thing she can do right now is just watch, and let them be happy; let them adore each other and let them grow together.
In the playroom, it's Fernando's turn. Madison is still by his side, grappling onto his arm and pressing her face into his shoulder to hide herself from the horrifying game of Operation, and then Fernando does something that Santana can't help but smile at. Her brother waits until Maddie turns away, and squeezes her eyes shut against the fabric of his t-shirt before he slips, forcefully pressing down on the metal with the tweezers and setting off the high pitched buzzing sound. Santana tilts her head to the side, unsure of why her brother just did that.
Maddie shrieks, and all but jumps into his lap, throwing her arms around his neck and sobbing weakly. "No, I don't want you to go, Ferny!" She cries, clinging to the collar of his shirt. "Please, I don't want you to get eaten by monsters."
"If they eat me then they can't eat you," Fernando replies simply and drops the tweezers to hug the little girl back. "And that means you've won."
Santana takes that cue to leave, so twists on the balls of her feet and lifts her leg to move forward, but not before Maddie can pull away and scrunch up her nose. It sends a thousand memories of Brittany doing the exact same expression through her face and for her heart to clench painfully tight. It winds around her lungs, closing in on her throat and tugging at her heartstrings until the first few hot tears begin to trail down her cheek.
Hastily, she wipes them away with the back of her hand and sucks in a deep, shaky breath, before turning and walking away.
She's halfway to her desk before she realizes what she's doing. Her hand is hovering mid-air, pointed in the direction of that ticket, lying face down on the table and she has absolutely no idea why she thought coming to this would be a good idea. Last time it only ended badly and, considering she's already weeping, it probably won't end well again.
Still, that doesn't deter her, and she reaches for the ticket, gingerly fingering the sharp edges until she closes her eyes, inhales deeply and flips it over. Santana's name is on the top, next to her row and seat number and it makes her feel all shaky. No doubt Brittany would've seated her with her family and Santana suddenly feels the weight of Mrs Pierce's words weigh down on her.
But I think it'd be for the best if you never return and never talked to my daughter ever again.
She knows what that means, and even though she made a promise that she'd never hurt Brittany again, which simultaneously means never seeing her again, there's this need inside of her to defy it. She'd be breaking everything Mrs Pierce asked of her, and it would run the risk of bringing herself more pain, but if she's going to give up, and come to peace with the fact she'll never be whole again, she has to see Brittany one last time.
She hasto go to this dance recital because she remembers the sheer excitement that lit up Brittany's face when she handed her the invite. Brittany may not feel that excitement now but Santana promised she'd go. She promised and even though every other one she made was broken, this is something she can keep.
Grabbing the ticket and then her jacket, Santana picks up her phone and dials a number.
"Santana?"
"Quinn," she breathes, hoping the line won't run dead. "I need your help."
Part B will be out as soon as it's ready. Hope you've enjoyed the first half :)