Chapter 8

A/N: hola! So I have a week off this week - it's been uneventful and also rather unproductive as of yet and it probably will continue along that route - so I might get another update out soon, but who knows! Sorry for this chapter taking a while, I was writing a li'l oneshot which I uploaded the other day, it's called 'Everything You Can't Control', would super love you to check it out if you haven't already. Anyway, don't have much else to say, besides thanks for once again clicking on this fic, here's Chapter 8!

TW for suicidal thoughts (not explicit, but they're there)

They were halfway into the movie - Dirty Dancing; Sugar had brought it over, unaware that it was probably one of Santana's favourite movies - when the phone went off.

And that damn phone had been all it had taken to kill the mood, which had been a lot livelier than the room had seen these past few days. And, no, not because 'all phones should be on silence' when watching a movie, as Sugar had claimed after it went off. To be honest, if it was anyone else, Santana probably would have agreed, but honestly, she'd forgotten she'd had a phone over these past few days and she'd forgotten that she'd put it onto charge with Brittany's charger the other night. So, she reached over to the bedside table, and grabbed it off there, going to turn it off when she saw the two messages pop up on the home screen.

MAMI: so is this why you haven't come home for three days?

MAMI: I need to talk to you. Come home right away.

The ad.

Oh, fuck, no, the ad-

She could feel the breakdown coming on, her breath catching in her throat and that tightness in her chest returning.

"I-" she stuttered, looking down to try and hide the tears in her eyes. "Excuse me-"

She shuffled off the bed and walked quickly to the bathroom, wiping her eyes as she went, her phone still grasped tightly in her hand. Brittany noticed this immediately, sitting up straighter from where she was sat, pushing off Sugar who had shoved herself between her and Mercedes and forced them to adjust their own places earlier, simply 'because it meant she had a better view of the small-screen TV', apparently.

"Santana?"

Mercedes bit her lip.

"Did we say something wrong?"

"No, that was her mom's ringtone," Quinn replied, evidently trying to keep her tone of voice calm to restore the calm in this room. Stressing would only make things worse, especially when Santana was involved in those things.

"Shit."

"Yeah."

Brittany got up, walking quickly over to the ensuite and trying the handle. It didn't open. Locked.

Shit.

She knocked gently, taking a deep breath, hoping it would relieve some of the panic in her. "Santana, let me in. Please."

She was met with silence. Nothing. She couldn't hear tears or crying on the other side of the door.

She rattled the door again desperately.

"Santana, please!"

She could hear her voice breaking but still she received no response. She started to get worried, turning behind her with pleading eyes for help. Quinn exchanged her worried glance, going to lift herself up of the bed as well, trying to offer Brittany a small, hopeful smile as she made her way over to the other blonde.

"Should we go, or…"

"No, stay. For now. I'll let you know if anything changes."

"Just keep watching the movie," she heard Quinn mutter behind her. "She probably needs things to stay as normal as possible right now, and if that's having people over and spending her Saturday nights with friends eating Italian, so be it." She turned her attention to Brittany. "What sort of lock is it, Brittany? Lock and key or the one you slide across, or...?"

She prayed it wasn't the one you slid across because those were a trauma to deal with whatever the situation (she remembered when one in her house got jammed when she was eight and her father had to take the door off the hinges, which had probably been the only heroic thing he'd ever done come to think of it), and breathed a sigh of relief when she realised it was thumbturn, with a space on the other side to turn it if there was an emergency. She turned back to the other blonde's desk and rummaged through a few drawers until she found a ruler which she could probably use to turn it.

"Hey, I'm coming in, San."

Brittany gave Quinn a curt nod to tell her that everything was probably okay from now before entering the bathroom. She didn't know what to expect, but was kind of relieved when she was greeted with the image of her girlfriend sitting on the bathroom floor, knees tucked up to her chest as she stared at the floor with teary eyes. Her phone was clasped tightly in one hand and she was trembling slightly, but it could've been a lot worse considering the girl's emotional state over these past few days. She offered her a small, sad smile and closed the door behind her, going to sit in front of her. Quietly, she took the phone from the girl's hand and placed it on the sink behind her.

Out of sight, out of mind - that had probably also been the attitude Santana had to all this before it had happened, but she wasn't going to think about that right now.

"I didn't want to break in front of them," Santana said quietly. She laughed harshly. "But I guess I did that anyway, huh?"

Brittany shook her head.

"They're good. They understand what you're going through."

"Nobody understands," she sniffled. She was staring back at the floor, tracing a nail along the crack in the tile, and at this point, Brittany could see clearly she was shaking. She reached out for her, lifting her chin up to look at her and the latina let out a sob.

"Hey. Maybe not. But we're all trying. Just… help us understand, okay? You can't shut people out now that this has happened."

Santana shook her head.

"My mom-"

She cut herself off, feeling another sob coming and clasping a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

"I guess the ad has aired, hey?"

"We knew it was going to happen."

Santana shook her head helplessly. "I was hoping that maybe it wouldn't… maybe they'd be able to get it down at the last minute, but they didn't."

Her voice was trembling and she was looking desperately at Brittany, eyes frantically begging her to do something, anything to help, when she didn't even know how to help herself. And Brittany, at loss of the whole situation, just stared back. It was a while before either girl spoke again, Santana resting her chin on the other girl's shoulder as her body shook.

"I wish it would all just go away," she started, and Brittany felt haunted at how lifeless her voice sounded. "I wish I could just run away from it all… disappear. I feel like things will never get better. My life is over. Nobody wants me. My family won't want me. Everyone will hate me. We live in the midwest. We go to the worst school ever. You know how people think. You know what happened to Kurt and Blaine. Things aren't gonna get better. And there's no way to try and fix it all up. What's even the point in trying?"

The blonde pulled away suddenly, and she thought that it just made everything worse. The latina was just staring at her. Her eyes were lifeless too, or at least zombie-like, dark and sad with bags under them and remnants of the makeup she hadn't bothered properly taking off the other night.

"Santana-"

"It's the truth," she whispered, "it feels that way, at least."

"Do you really believe it?"

Brittany, unsure what to do, pulled Santana in her arms again. Every one of her limbs felt heavy again and she could feel the lump in her throat grow.

It was kind of only in that moment when she realised just how bad this was. How bad this was, and how quickly she needed to get help from someone else.

"Right now I do," Santana whispered.