"Have you ever had an isolated time in your life where you felt so incredibly good you can hardly believe that it's real life? The things you go through, the people you meet in that time are so monumentally important to you that once it's all over you know nothing will never be just like it was beforehand. Because you didn't have this one prefect time in your life to compare everything else to.
Whether it lasts a day, three months, a year, two weeks, whatever length of time it may be, the significance is the same.
The feelings that you experience then are never matched, and you'll never have friends you love as much as those friends. Never will you love like you loved her. Never were you so honest with another person.
How do you cope with the rest of your life after that? Knowing that your life will never feel so good as it did in that period of time, how are you supposed to move on?
And now more than a year has passed and things have changed so much since then. You don't talk anymore, and when you do you're just trading barbs, purposefully trying to hurt one another.
You know that once you're both gone from this place, you'll never see her again, and it hurts. And somehow it hurts more knowing that the time you spent together probably didn't mean this much to her.
It didn't hurt her like it hurts you to move on because to her it was just something to pass the time with. A dalliance.
Does it make you feel pathetic?
Does it hurt more or less knowing that someday you'll forget the details? Decades from now when your mind begins to fade, so will she. You can't remember what exactly she said, and you can't remember her name. You can't remember how this story went. You can't remember her face. Was she beautiful? What did you see in her eyes when she looked at you? How did she make you feel?
I'm not sure how I would feel if I ever forgot.
Relieved? So maybe now I could experience things without comparing them to something better.
Heartbroken? Because now I've lost even the memories of something Incredible and unique.
How do I find the energy to be interested in the rest of my life? What's the point when I know I'll never have that again?
Do you wonder if you could go back, would things turn out differently? If you could save what you had together?
Britt? Britt, are you even listening to me?"
Santana asks her best friend with a drunken whine. She's seated next to Brittany on Puck's couch in the middle of one of the football player's famous ragers.
This one in celebration of the fact that he finally - after months of breaking his back on the daily grind - finally completed Cuphead on his X-box.
Clearly any occasion is an occasion to party for Puck.
Brittany pulls back from her lip-lock with a guy Santana doesn't recognize. Maybe he's one of those pricks from Dalton.
The blonde turns toward her best friend from her position straddling the strange boy. Santana, who had been sobbing her way through her long winded monologue, sniffles as she looks to Brittany expectantly through watery eyes.
Brittany feels a little bad for not having heard a word of it, but in her defense the bump grind music playing over the speakers in Puck's living room are kinda overwhelming all other sound in the room. And she's been pretty busy - y'know - bumping and grinding.
"Totally, San."
With that, she turns back to the boy and resumes her attempt to eat his face.
Santana huffs childishly, and turns away from Brittany. She wipes her face clear of tears and - ew - snot. Totally not hot.
To cope with her horrifying display of fugliness, Santana attempts to upend the rest of her beer down her gob, only to find her cup to be empty. Santana stares at it with a stunned gaze for a moment before bursting into tears once again, throwing the plastic cup to the ground impetuously.
"And now my beer left me too! What did I do to deserve this? Britt? Britt, pay attention to me!"
Brittany then shoots up from the boy's lap, and looks down at Santana, who pouts up at her friend. Brittany then pats Santana on the head comfortingly.
"It's okay, Sanny. You're still totes hot. So things can't be all that bad! Cheer up, Charlie!"
Santana sniffles.
"I guess that's true. I am hot."
Brittany beams at her, then pulls her boytoy up off the couch to stand beside her.
"Would it make you feel better to come do sexy times with me and... whoever this guy is?" Brittany asks, clearly sincere.
The nameless boy speaks up for the first time. "My name is-"
Brittany shoves her finger to the boy's mouth, shushing him before slurring-
"Don't ruin it."
Brittany turns back to Santana, who pouts more intensely.
"I'm not in the mood for sexytimes." Santana huffs. "What are you in the mood for, then?"
Santana stomps a foot and crosses her arms angrily. "I don't know!" She grumbles.
Brittany shrugs, then turns to the chair nearest the couch to appraise a bespectacled redhead sitting there awkwardly sipping her beer.
"What about you? Wanna come do sex with us?" Brittany says it as if she's just asking the time. Meanwhile, the redhead chokes on her drink, coughing violently before looking up at Brittany incredulously.
Brittany tilts her head inquisitively, prompting the redhead to stutter out- "Um... I- Well, I mean - as it were, I just so- i mean..."
Brittany is unfazed by the girl's babbling. The girl clears her throat, and sits up straight- "That sounds nice."
Brittany grins widely, and helps the girl out of her chair before turning back to Santana.
"We'll be in Puck's room if you change your mind, okay San?"
And with that, Brittany and her party of three are gone, disappeared to that realm of teenage lust that is the second floor of the Puckerman residence.
Santana struggles to stand from the couch and keep her balance, but once she's gained control of it, she starts shakily stomping through the mosh of horny teenagers toward the front door.
She mutters angrily to herself the whole time.
"Stupid Dalton prick. Stupid Puck and his stupid party. Stupid hobbit. Stupid-"
Santana freezes in the doorway when a low, smooth voice breaks through her booze-induced haze. "What did manhands do now?"
Santana turns to the railing of the porch where Quinn is sitting, smoking a cigarette. Tight jeans and a jean jacket draw Santana's attention first. Then the cup in the blonde's hand. Finally the hazy look in her eyes.
Santana straightens herself up and scowls at her former friend.
"Nothing. At least not lately. But as a rule, fuck her in general."
Quinn smirks, making Santana's heartbeat pick up for a moment, before the darker girl forces an even meaner look, trying to shove down the old feelings fluttering back to life in her chest. How the fuck is she so collected right now?
She walks toward Quinn, scowling up at her, before nodding to her cigarette. Quinn takes her cue and hands the smoke to her.
Santana takes a long draw, and turns around, looking out at the neighboring homes in Puck's neighborhood.
Quinn takes the opportunity to soak in Santana's body, clothed in cut off short shorts, and a tight shirt, with a flannel button up over it. When Santana turns back towards Quinn, the blonde snaps her gaze back up to the latina's face.
"Why the fuck do you care anyways, Fabgay?"
Quinn finally loses some of that infuriating HBIC cool, and summons the blazing fire within her that only Santana can bring out. She hisses - "Don't call me that, Satan! I'm not gay!"
Santana, now feeling in control of both herself and Quinn, smirks, and saunters closely to Quinn. Leaning in so near she can smell the intoxicating scent of the blonde. Strawberries and cream. Old books. God she's missed this.
"That's not what you said when I had my tongue inside you. Or when you begged me to fuck you. Every. Single. Day."
Quinn's pupils dilate. Her breath catches. She whispers back to Santana. "Shut up."
"You miss it, don't you? Miss me filling you up. Miss-"
Quinn shoves Santana away from her, and storms off the porch. Santana doesn't think twice before jogging after the girl.
"Why you running away, Fabgay? Can't take a little home truth?" Santana mocks.
Quinn growls back at her, "You don't know shit, Santana!"
Santana laughs haughtily at the cheerleader. "Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."
"Stop following me!"
"I'm not following you, dumbass. I'm walking home."
Quinn huffs. Living two doors down from Santana was a blessing just a year ago. Ever since that day, however, the last day of summer before Freshman year, their close proximity has become a curse.
"Well, walk home later. Why don't you go back to Puck's and roll around in bed with Brittany? That seems to be what you waste all your time doing these days."
Santana scoffs and picks up her pace so she can look Quinn in the eye.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Quinn rolls her eyes, pointedly not looking at Santana.
Santana growls, and grabs Quinn by the arm, pulling her to a stop.
"No. You don't get to do that. You're the one who broke it off. You were just 'experimenting', remember? See what it's like to 'fuck the freak', remember? I told you I loved you, and you told me to go to hell. Remember? So you don't get to feel jealous of me and Brittany. You lost that privilege a long time ago."
Quinn feels an overbearing weight constricting her throat as she struggles to maintain her cool. She clears her throat, then rips her arm from Santana's grip.
"Get over yourself, Lopez. I'm not jealous. I just think that if you're going to insist on sinning so constantly, at least keep it in the bedroom. I'm tired of walking in on you two in the locker room. You're like animals. Learn some self-control for god's sake."
Santana steps closer to Quinn.
"Or maybe you wish you were still the one sinning in the locker room with me."
Quinn grits her teeth, hating herself for how wet she's getting.
"Fuck you, Santana."
Santana leans in even further, their breasts pressed together, her hand pushing aside the hem of Quinn's jacket to skim the tips of her fingers over Quinn's side.
Their lips now just inches apart. Santana's sweet breath co-mingling with the mint of Quinn's.
Santana then brings her free hand to the small of Quinn's back, roughly pulling her even tighter into her warm body.
Santana licks Quinn's lips lightly before kissing her bottom lip so softly it's hardly there. Quinn's eyes fall shut as her breath draws in heavily, shaky upon exhale.
Santana moves suddenly to barely skim the skin of Quinn's neck with her lips, inhaling deeply as she moves up to the taller girl's ear. She pulls Quinn's earlobe into her mouth, sucking on it slowly, pulling a moan out of Quinn. Once Santana releases the blonde's ear, she moves ever higher to whisper into her ear.
"No."
With that, Santana shoves Quinn away, and begins to walk once again, leaving the stunned girl behind.
Quinn inhales sharply. Her hand reaches instinctually for the crucifix hanging from the chain around her neck. Her eyes pinch shut tight, and she whispers to herself.
"Please."
Her eyes open as she feels the pattering of a light rain upon her head. it doesn't stay light for long, though. escalating quickly into a downpour. Santana's form comes to a halt beneath the orange glow of the streetlight at the far end of the block.
"Goddammit."
She looks over her shoulder at Quinn, still clutching her crucifix and mumbling to herself. She shouts back to the blonde.
"Quinn?"
No response. Quinn doesn't even react outwardly to Santana.
"Quinn? Come on, man, we gotta get out of this rain!"
She sighs deeply, before trudging towards Quinn.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? Can we go now?"
Before she can get too close, Quinn turns back the way they came from and sprints down the sidewalk.
"Shit. Quinn!"
Santana takes off after her, splashing through the rapidly flooding Lima streets. Following Quinn at every turn.
They eventually move further from the residential neighborhood into Downtown Lima. Or the closest thing to a "downtown" sector as a town like Lima can conjure up.
"Quinn, where are you going?" She shouts once more.
Santana struggles to keep up as Quinn makes a sharp turn through an alley between a barber shop and the one Thai place in town. The latina growls-
"Goddamn your stupid, long, sexy legs."
As Santana tries to make the turn as Quinn did, she slips on the pavement, and crashes down into a puddle. She growls, and jumps back to her feet, stumbling over a twisted ankle and a bloodied knee. Despite the injury, Santana storms faster than ever after her once friend.
When I catch up to her, I'm gonna kick her lily white ass.
"Quinn! Get your ass back he-"
she cuts herself off as she grinds to a halt once emerging from the alleyway. Stepping slowly forward, a worried crease forming between her brows.
Standing in the middle of the road is Quinn, staring across the street at her church. The blue and red glow from the neon sign adorning the Thai place illuminates the back end of the girl.
Santana walks cautiously toward Quinn. Once she comes within reaching distance of the taller girl, Santana slowly raises her hand to rest upon Quinn's shoulder. She watches her with concern, biting her lip nervously before scraping out her words.
"Quinn, I... Can-"
Quinn ignores her, and walks toward the church with an exhaustion usually reserved for a man marching down death row.
Why am I here? She hates me. I'm the last person she would want around right now. And she's treated me like garbage for the past year. Why would I help her? Why should I comfort her.
But no matter how rigorously that voice within her argues to abandon Quinn, she always arrives at the same answer.
Because I love her.
Santana follows Quinn into the church hesitantly.