NegativeSpaces- Wow, I loved the song, it's actually very much my "Santana's" taste in music, though she did eventually warm up to my Disney soundtracks. I definitely see the connection. Especially the line "hate me so you can finally see what's good for you" because it relates to how Santana needs Brittany to keep trying to stop her 'waging wars' on herself, but she also wants the best for her and in Santana's opinion those two wants could never coexist peacefully, because the closer they get to each other, the more she's convinced she is at worst destroying her, or at best taking her away from having a better life. I think that's why it takes her so long to approach Brittany again in this chapter now. She tries to hold out, then she broke. My "Santana" must have gone over that argument in her head thousands of times. Thanks for telling me about the song, I'd never heard it!
harumad – Those are such beautiful words from you, that actually may be one of the best things anyone has ever said to me. I know that warm feeling you mentioned too, because it's how I feel every time someone like you cares enough to tell me they like me and my story, because that reminds me to keep being "Brittany" and not to give up. I also can't wait to see the project you're working on, I think it's awesome that this story has inspired your creativity!
chanismith. kolman – I'm glad you like it! And yes, there will definitely be a happy ending, I couldn't lead people through all this angst without there being a light at the end of the tunnel.
xoxo - I'm so glad to hear that! You have all the knowledge so I kind of think of you as like a Brittana expert, lol, so I'm glad to hear you say I haven't gone OOC because the last few chapters (the fight dialogue especially), was more of a transcription of what really happened, so I did wonder if I was getting carried away and losing sight of Brittana, because I really don't want to do that. Thanks so much for still sticking around and letting me know what you think, and yeah, standing up to "Puck" was an awesome moment.
Taeblancaxoxo, booknerd4 - I'm so glad you both like the real-ness of this. For me it's a lot like confronting reality. I guess I could have escaped into fantasy and written something fictional about sunshine and rainbows but it wouldn't help me much, so I like the fact that other people can get more out of reality too. Thanks so much for telling me what you think!
mellowpelly - I'm glad you're enjoying this story, you're only the second person I know of to come here that has personal experience with someone with Asperger's :) I've heard stories about lots of people living their lives all the way to being in their forties and fifties and only just finding out then that they're autistic. I'm not actually sure if it's better to be told earlier before you're mature enough to be able to use the knowledge about yourself productively like me, or to have had what i'm guessing your brother went through and wonder for years and years why they can't be normal. Anyway, I really think it's awesome that you're so patient and supportive of your brother, we all need more people like you. :)
And prattle01 thank you as well for always coming back, I love seeing your comments chapter after chapter! :)
Also, Miara848, thank you for the lovely compliments :) and to after8icecream, I'm really glad you found the last chapter interesting!
Oh, and Puff614 – I wanted to say hi to you just in case you're out there. I know real life gets in the way for sure, but I wanted to tell you I still missed you last week anyway! :)
I'm a bit late this week, because this chapter is so…. long. It goes all the way up to the Glee s1 episode "Wheels" timeline.
I had another go at the summary as well, I'm horrible at summing things up. Really horrible. I have a sense of all the details but no overall perspective. I don't know if I'm happy with it yet, I might keep trying because summaries are important.
I spent ages this week looking up more about the actresses that play Brittany and Santana and they're fascinating, they have their own story going on as well, for sure.
Anyway, I hope you all like this chapter! :)
Chapter 13 – There Are No Pills For That
Brittany S. Pierce, Present
Do you know why I love Disney movies so much?
My favorite part about Disney movies, is that they tell stories about unusual couples.
All the way back in the fifties, they already had the Lady and the Tramp which showed the world how much opposites attract. I spent years perfecting nosing the biggest spaghetti meatball across to the other side of my plate for Santana to have, just like in the movie. You definitely have to love someone to share the best part of your dinner, just ask Lord Tubbington. I had spaghetti at Breadsticks every time until I got the move totally right. I just wanted to show Santana how much I loved her, and sharing meatballs just wasn't the same gesture if you did it with your hands.
As the years went by, Disney got a bit braver and we saw Timon and Pumba. You can't tell me that pair didn't make out at some point, but what happens in a hollow log, stays in the hollow log. Disney also created worlds where mermaids can be in love with humans, Native American 'savages' can do the mating dance with white explorers, and a feral man raised by gorillas can be loved by a refined English woman. A space ranger action figure may also find his flying device becomes erect at the sight of a handsome cowboy, but even though I'm sure it happened, I guess they didn't film those parts.
I've written Disney many letters because I think their next love story should be about two females; a confused but loyal duck and a beautiful but tough skinned lizard. It would make millions, if only they'd release the important footage rather than editing all the best parts out like they did with Buzz and Woody.
Santana and I made a usual couple. I guess it's like how you'd expect ducks to be with other ducks and lizards to be with other lizards, yet there we were, almost the reverse of each other, together.
At this point of our story, I couldn't have put into words exactly what I thought a couple in love should be like, but it's clear to me now that I think it's the reverse of how she saw it.
I think sex is intimacy. I think all sexual touches and beyond, are just an extension of care, and of love and affection.
Santana thinks that intimacy is sex. She thinks love or intimacy is quick, raw and only physical and that there is nothing else.
We had something in common though, looking at intimacy from each other's perspectives scared us both, but for such different reasons.
It unnerved her, to see me treat sexual encounters like they did more to your heart and mind, than to your body. When she was with me, I treated her differently to how she was treated by other people. In those times where she was with me, she even experienced intimacy my way, and that shift in worlds terrified her.
It unnerved me, to see her use sex as an escape. I think it started with Tomas and Ben, and having to pretend she wasn't even there in the room to get through those experiences. She gained the ability to leave her head and heart at the door, numbing her emotions down to nothing when she was touched. She coped by using other people to escape from herself, and the minute numb turned back into thought, she was gone before anyone could remind her that sex was supposed to be about two people in love.
She got addicted to that kind of escape. You might even say that she had an addictive personality, never content to do things the way others did, she always took everything one step further.
I just got addicted to her.
Brittany S. Pierce, age 16
"The light switch, Brittany, not the power-point switch," Finn said tiredly, trying to determine which of the darkened shapes sitting on the chairs in front of him in the choir room was Quinn. Not the little noisy one, he thought, that must be Rachel.
"But they look exactly the same the same in the dark," Brittany called out to him, confused. Switches were the bane of her existence, she could never tell what each one for for, and they almost never had labels.
"Just turn it on!" Finn said, "you're closest. We need some light in here, I can't see a thing."
Santana stood up and easily found the right switch and hit it, before walking back over to sit on Puck's lap.
Light flooded the room, and Brittany wasn't the only one who raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sudden brightness, though she noticed Santana merely squinted.
Brittany tried to catch her attention and smile at her, but Santana kept her head turned away. Even though they weren't speaking to each other right now, Santana still helped her out in little ways sometimes, and Brittany wished she could say thanks.
When you were here before. Couldn't look you in the eye
Brittany sighed. No matter what she did, Santana wouldn't look at her, and she'd had her eyes practically glued to Puck all week. Brittany hated that Puck had inserted himself into their Glee club practices after school, feeding Mr Schue some bullshit about needing to watch their practices as a member of the public who was interested in the arts. He didn't even like singing. He was taking over the one space where she had Santana all to herself, but she guessed it didn't matter. She wasn't allowed to talk to her anyway. She didn't even get to share.
The noise in the classroom resumed, and Mr Schuster walked in. "Alright class," he said, "this week, the Glee club will be studying rock legends. Who can tell me what a legend is?"
Brittany raised her hand.
"Yes Brittany?"
"A foot!" she announced brightly, pleased to know the answer.
The class groaned and Mr Schuester shushed them. "So very close," he said, "what about you, Artie, do you know?"
Brittany sighed and tuned out Artie's answer, opening her diary instead of the sheet music that was placed in front of her.
I feel stupid all the time now, she wrote. I never get anything right. Everyone seems to speak a different language to me, and they find my own language stupid. There's a lot of things you aren't supposed to say, like how much weight Quinn has been putting on lately. It's like that book I read once about the Emperor and his new clothes; you're supposed to pretend stuff like that really is invisible. I don't see why you can't say stuff that is true. I don't know why people keep telling me I'm not being very nice, because it's just a fact right? Nobody would lie about about how many bones a dinosaur has, so why does everyone act like Quinn is still skinny?
Brittany traced the word 'stupid' over and over with her finger, contemplating it. She drew a box around the word and thickly underlined it.
I never really thought about whether I was smart or stupid before, she wrote. I never really wondered what sort of person I was. I was just Brittany, Santana's friend. Now I'm stupid. I wonder if I'm anything else? How does everyone else figure that out? My sister Katie says that she's known who she is since she was in Kindergarten. Why am I so slow at everything?
Brittany's pencil snapped and she groaned in frustration, hunting around in her bag for a sharpener. Kurt took pity on her and handed her his pen. It was pink with a fuzzy end and she liked it.
I wish she'd talk to me again, she wrote. I wish I could talk to her. I wish she'd come and shine a light on me and make things clearer again. She'd know who I am. She knows everything.
A tear rolled down her nose and splashed onto the page, almost in slow motion. She stared at Santana. If she couldn't talk to her or touch her, then looking at her couldn't do any harm, right? Dreaming was free as well. Brittany almost looked forward to going to bed every night, because at least there she could always be with Santana.
Kurt, who couldn't help but to read some of what she'd written, placed a hand on her shoulder, patting it gently.
"You keep the pen," he said, "and you can come over tonight if you want, i'm making spaghetti bolognese, your favorite, just don't do the meatball thing while dad is in the room, please. You know it kind of freaks him out."
Brittany giggled.
Santana's head snapped up, the sound of Brittany's sudden laughter unmistakable to her ears. It pierced right though her heart.
You're just like an angel. Your skin makes me cry.
She wished she hadn't lost control and yelled at Brittany. She had sort of meant what she said, but she'd never meant to say it like that. She'd never forget the crushed expression on Brittany's face as she'd stormed out on her, out of the nurse's office, abandoning her without as a glance backwards, even though Brittany was hurt. More than anything, she was ashamed of herself, and all she'd learned from it, was that shame was an emotion that grew and multiplied the longer it was left unresolved. She would deserve it if Brittany never spoke to her again. Maybe, at least in Brittany's case, it was for the best. She's sweet, and she's good, and she's innocent, Santana thought. And she doesn't deserve me dragging her down.
You float like a feather. In a beautiful world
I wish I was special. You're so fucking special
Brittany figured Kurt had to be her friend now. She had three good reasons. 1. He said so. 2. He liked her dancing. 3. He let her borrow his perfume.
He wore the same perfume as Santana, so she was always making excuses to stand closer to him.
They had appreciated each other from afar at first, but had only recently started hanging out on the day a couple of girls had chased Brittany into an empty science classroom during break. Without Santana's protection, she was an easy target, and she was gullible enough to believe anything they said. They told her they'd be waiting outside the classroom so she'd better not ever come out. Kurt hadn't found her for a couple of hours, but still, better late than never.
Brittany sat motionless, waiting at a desk. She could be in here for days, maybe even weeks. She would have to find a food source. Maybe she could lay a trap for a possum or something. She couldn't hear those bigger girls outside, but that didn't mean they weren't still there. Maybe if she could figure out how to lay a trap for a possum, then she could throw it at the girls. She nodded her head. Forget the food source, she needed weapons more.
Needing to let off some steam and realizing that she might as well try to make the best of the situation, she cleared a space in the middle of the room and she began to dance. She chose the 'Single Ladies' routine, because she was still upset and she wanted something easy that she could have danced to in her sleep. She didn't need any music, she could hear it all in her head.
She was on her third replay of the song when Kurt walked in.
"Wow!" he said, "you bring a whole new meaning to the phrase 'dancing to the beat of your own drum' don't you? You're really good, you know."
"Nah, it's easy. And there's no drum solo," Brittany said, forgetting her shyness in the moment. She could always escape from everything when she danced. "Copy me, I'll show you how to do it."
Kurt followed her moves, swiftly mimicking her. They were dancing in a line, pumping their fists up and down to the imaginary beat, when the bell rang. Kurt flopped down into a chair, exhilarated and panting.
"Will you come over and teach me more of it, this afternoon?" he asked, "we can use actual music, and maybe I can bring Tina from Glee as well. When the video first came out all I ever heard from her was that it was the best video of all time. She sounded like Kanye West." He wrinkled his nose at the thought. He hadn't been amused when the Glee club had performed 'Gold Digger' a couple of months ago, and at the time, he had in fact used a few Single Ladies moves during their disorganized accompanying routine to make it more bearable.
Brittany stared at him. She had never been invited to anyone but Santana's house before, except for the odd sleepover at the Fabrays when Santana had insisted she get an invite.
"You don't have to," he said kindly, confused by her expression.
"No," said Brittany slowly, "I will come over. Even though you're not Santana."
He nodded good naturedly and ushered her out of the room, ignoring the fact that she was holding a now lit match that she'd taken from the science cabinet, and was holding it out in front of her as if to ward off someone, or ward something away.
She caught him staring at her. "It worked in the Jungle Book," she told him looking around nervously.
"What did?" he asked.
"Fire. Some girls chased me in here. One was big like Shere Khan the tiger. Nobody likes fire."
Kurt nodded. "Yeah," he said, "but, defending yourself this way is pretty dangerous." Quick as a flash, he blew out the match and put a hand on her wrist. "Look Brittany, if you want to scare those girls away, you can't use a weapon because you'll get suspended. Even worse, you could get seriously hurt. You have to use words. You have to act meaner than them." He extended his fingers and curled them over like claws, as if he had become Shere Khan the tiger himself.
Brittany shook her head. "Santana has always done that stuff for me, but she's not talking to me right now. I don't have the power to go 'all Lima Heights.' She's always protected me."
"She can't be there all the time, nobody can. You have to learn how to protect yourself," he told her.
"Does being mean work for you?"
"Sometimes," he admitted. "I'm not as convincing as Santana, but you have to fight back or else you've got no chance at all. Do what they do only worse."
"They called me names," Brittany said, "they called me a retard. I held up the line in the cafeteria because I couldn't decide what I wanted and they got mad. There were just too many choices."
"Okay, so think of something mean to say to them, and if you can't, just use a lot of bad language. Practice on me."
Brittany put her hands on her hips and frowned. "You can never tell with bees," she said.
"Okay, that's a start. That might work if you were Winnie the Pooh, and very mildly annoyed that you're not getting any honey, but going all 'One Hundred Acre Wood' hasn't got much on going all 'Lima Heights.' Think angry. Swear at me."
"That was a bloody doddle and a piece of piss!" Brittany exclaimed, drawing herself up to full height and doing a fairly convincing English accent.
"Your words, Brittany," Kurt said, "not the words of a bleached blonde vampire, with a thing about duster coats."
Brittany looked around wildly for a hint.
"Your words," he repeated, "if you're not angry enough at those girls, think of someone you're really angry with."
In a split second, Brittany had pictured herself. Her face changed and she slammed her fist against the wall.
"You're so stupid!" she shouted, "you're never going to get her back because you don't understand anything. That's why she's with him. You'll never be a unicorn!"
She went to punch the wall again, too upset to feel pain or think properly, when Kurt's hands stopped her, grabbing hold of her wrists.
Brittany stopped mid-air, panting as if she'd been running. She tried slowly exhaling, her expression pained and ashamed for losing control of herself like that.
"Channel that, Brittany," he said, "use that to fight them, just please, for gods sake never direct that again at yourself."
For a while, Brittany went under everybody's radar on account of the fact that apparently Quinn was more than fat, she was pregnant. Everyone was talking about it, but at the same time pretending they didn't know. Brittany had no idea what they were saying most of the time.
Puck had told Santana, and Santana had broken her silence to tell Brittany, and Brittany had told everyone else by accident. How was she supposed to know that 'preggers' wasn't some type of fattening egg-based dessert Quinn was having all the time? All Brittany had said, was that Quinn was at all mall 'buying elastic-waist pants so she could eat more preggers,' though she supposed it would totally have been a scandal in itself for Quinn to be eating anything that could put on the pounds. Coach Sylvester didn't let them eat anything unless they were about to pass out, let alone dessert.
Santana was now off everybody's radar too, but unlike Brittany, she wasn't happy about it.
Santana was pissed about the pregnancy, Brittany could tell. It was just another thing that Quinn had that Santana didn't and that tally was mounting up. Santana didn't want to be pregnant, but she didn't want Quinn to share anything with Puck that she didn't. As hard as Santana tried, as much as she still kept on top on the sexy list, Quinn was still captain of the Cheerios, and more popular, richer, and more perfectly put together. She always had been.
Santana didn't recall telling Puck that he could sleep with Quinn. She also didn't know the point where Quinn had decided to quit that good Christian shit and start getting her mack on. Santana had never been in control of her life, but at least she had thought she was controlling Puck. Apparently not. This made her feel a hot rage.
Santana's rage turned organized, by pseudoephedrine tablets, courtesy of Mrs Schuester who gave the entire Glee club some to enhance their performances in their group number mash-offs. The drugs had worked, and Santana and Brittany had both been on fire during the Walking on Sunshine/Halo mash up.
Pseudoephedrine had turned Santana into a self-proclaimed evil mastermind. She had never been more productive now that she suddenly had the energy to be able to stay awake all night plotting ways to get ahead, doing so with a detached and calculated concentration.
The tablets made her feel like she was supposed to feel; on top. Evenings with Puck had improved, but all too quickly Santana's supply had run out and she hadn't been willing to let the chemical high go. For the past few months, she had been bribing some kid with ADHD for Dexedrine pills and they were even better.
Brittany couldn't help noticing the changes in Santana, even though she could only watch from afar. She was colder, harder, and picking more fights with the other Cheerios, as if boys could be won like trophies at a wrestling match. Brittany wished she would stop the violence. With the exception of Puck, whom she seemed to go back to most Friday nights by default, she seemed to grow tired of the others more quickly. She had lost interest in even the boys she had pegged as the most likely to get out of Lima someday, usually by the ticket of football scholarships. The less popular guys became her slaves, being told to carry her books or buy her drinks. To Brittany, they kind of looked like puppies that she had kicked that still came back for more. Brittany wanted to stop watching Santana, but she couldn't. She'd been watching her for too long now to stop. She wondered if this was what addicts feel like.
At the time, Mrs Schuester's tablets had affected Brittany too. On pseudoephedrine, her outlook had shifted and she'd had a calm but determined drive to look normal and fit in, suddenly believing that this was possible if only she made choices more like everyone else. She was tired of all the bullying.
Several tablets in, Brittany had done her best impression of Santana, and asked Mike Chang out. No matter what Santana did, she was still Brittany's hero and there was nothing she could do to not still want to be like her. It didn't occur to her at the time, that asking someone out to be more like another person, was wrong.
She liked Mike and she hoped that he never left Glee club because of the pressure from his football coach and his family. She also thought that maybe he could take her mind of Santana, even for only a few minutes. He was a good dancer, much better than Tina, the other Asian. Tina had invented her own moves at Kurt's house when she'd tried to teach her to dance to Single Ladies and it made Brittany mad. Couldn't she see that she had to follow the routine if she didn't want to anger Beyoncé? Everyone said she was like a god, and what if she brought the plague on them?
Pseudoephedrine made Brittany more confident and less aware of her body so when Mike causally touched her on their date, she hadn't had the same panic inducing reaction as she normally had. They had gone to Breadstix and had a really good time, and even though the whole time Brittany had wished she was with Santana, the pills helped her to shrug it off.
They made her thoughts even more random, yet in a focused way. Mike seemed to find her theories about garden gnomes actually being alive really interesting, and she'd had more than three logical reasons to back it up. On the pills, it was easier to explain what she meant about things, and get people to understand what she was talking about. Being with Mike had made her sort of feel less lonely and he'd promised to teach her how to pop and lock in return for a second date at the drive in. At the time, she had told him she would like that.
For some time now after their first date, Mike had been busy with family commitments every night of the week, and when he finally approached Brittany again, the drug was well and truly out of her system. Suddenly, Mike looked much scarier. She kept avoiding him as much as she could, but he was persistent.
Part of Brittany knew that she could do it, she could get more pseudoephedrine and go out with him again, and feel like any other girls at their school. But, as tempting as it was, Brittany decided that she was either going to go clean or not at all. Pills made her different, and maybe better, but it was cheating. She'd rather have people chase her into classrooms and yell at her in Glee club, than become controlled by a handful of white tablets. She might be dumb, but she'd never be a cheater.
A week later, Mr Schuester decided the Glee club should have a five day bake sale, in order to raise money to rent a special bus so wheelchair bound Artie could come on the trip with them to Sectionals. Everyone had been separated into groups of twos and threes to sell cupcakes. In spite of Santana's protesting, Brittany, Santana and Puck had been selected as one group, and they were currently selling cupcakes made with Pucks' special pot laced recipe. Finn's mom had was championing another group although, even with all her Martha Stewart baking tips she couldn't equal the popularity of Puck and his illegal substances.
The main problem for their business wasn't that Santana and Puck both refused to acknowledge Brittany, even though she was sitting between them, it was that Santana was eating most of the cupcakes, relishing their pink icing most of all.
In Brittany's opinion, Santana had been acting strangely all week, she'd actually been carrying her own books and she hadn't been picking nearly as many fights. As for what she was doing now, Brittany had always known she had a weakness for cake but this was ridiculous.
On the plus side, it was easier to watch Santana now that they were only a small distance apart. It was nice not having to crane her neck to stare at her from the other side of the room all the time. But, in other ways, it hurt Brittany more than ever to have her so close. Santana's hand brushed against hers and it seemed to sting. Brittany wanted to cry, because she knew that Santana didn't really want to be near her, she was only here sitting with her because she had to.
After Santana managed to eat another four of Puck's cupcakes, Brittany was about five seconds away from breaking their silence and calling Santana a cupcake addict. She was beaten to the punch when Puck spoke up, having thought the exact same thing.
"You've got an addictive personality Santana," he said, winking at her knowingly.
"Do not," Santana and pouted, stuffing another cupcake into her mouth.
"You do. You're all about loading yourself up with all the thrills you can take, and then moving on to the next good thing."
"Oh yeah? So what am I doing with you then? You're hardly a thrill."
Brittany felt her heart break just a little at the subject matter of the conversation they were having over her head. She wanted so badly to just leave the table.
"Please. I know you're into the Puckasaurus. Remember last Friday night?" he winked at her suggestively.
Brittany slid further into her seat, she didn't want to know.
Santana glared at him, "Shut it Puckerman."
Puck laughed, "Santana, I don't care, okay. That wasn't my point. My point is; you're hot and cold. You'll fight your way to your next 'thing' like an addict that needs a fix, then you'll drop it like a sack of cold potatoes. We work because I don't care when you walk out on me, so long as you've gotten off, and you let me finish."
"Puck," Santana hissed, side eying Brittany to see her reaction. It was the most she'd acknowledged Brittany in some time.
"Whatever. You'll stuff yourself with these cupcakes 'til you get a buzz then you're probably go and make out with someone's boyfriend and mark him like me," Puck lifted the sleeves of his t-shirt and Brittany got a brief glimpse of deep scratch marks running down his arms.
Brittany had seen those kinds of marks on a lot of guys lately. She creased her forehead in confusion, trying to do a tally, but she realized that she couldn't count that high. Not because she couldn't actually count, but because anything past three, the magic number of pieces of logical evidence, kind of blew her mind.
"You're an addict," Puck repeated crossing his arms as if to say 'case closed'.
Brittany slunk away, hoping to disappear unnoticed. She could distantly hear Santana calling after her with a hint of desperation. Maybe that was what was different about Santana lately, she just somehow seemed more scattered and desperate. But for what reasons? This time Brittany didn't know. She focused on tonight, her second date with Mike. He had cornered her when she'd run off for a reprieve from civilization in the janitor's closet, blocking the door playfully until she had talked to him. There was no getting out of it now, because she had promised him, and she never broke her promises.
Brittany's second date with Mike was predictably, a total disaster.
"Change the station," Brittany said to Mike when Firework came on the radio.
He didn't move.
"Please Mike, change the station," she repeated feeling frozen, unable to move her hand herself.
With a quizzical look in her direction, Mike changed it. He pulled into the drive in. He hoped Mr Schuester wouldn't happen to be here to notice that he hadn't brought his wheelchair. Brittany had already lost hers at the beginning of the week. The whole Glee club was tired of 'wheelchair week'. Mr Schue was forcing them to stay in these borrowed wheechairs so they could understand what it was like to be Artie, who was permanently wheelchair bound.
Brittany had been quiet and reclusive during dinner at Breadstix, the complete opposite of how bubbly she had been last time they went out. Maybe she didn't like me after all? Mike wondered.
He liked to think of himself as a nice guy, but he was tired of getting shit from the other football players about losing his v-plates. He had really been hoping that things would go well tonight. Brittany was experienced, all the girls at McKinley said so, and they had passed the knowledge on to their boyfriends on the football team. They also said Brittany had exotic taste and preferred guys from other schools. Mike knew girls weren't likely to say stuff like that unless it was true, girls never complimented each other unless they had to. He also figured that he might also fit into Brittany's 'exotic' category, being Asian and all. He was one of the very few Asian guys at their school.
"Brittany, did you have fun tonight?" he asked, leaning closer to her, ignoring the movie that was playing on the big screen.
"Yeah, I had fun," she said in that strange monotone she so often used. "Why aren't you watching the movie?" she said her voice rising slightly and becoming more expressive.
"I was hoping I could get to know you better, is all," Mike said softly, "you're not Asian, but we both love to dance so we have something in common already."
He placed a hand on her knee and Brittany tensed up, immediately dropping her gaze from his. He didn't move his hand, instead he started stroking the inside of her knee.
Brittany wanted to be anywhere else, his hand felt cold and more like a talon clawing at her. She didn't understand why Mike was being like this. Last time they went out she'd had fun, but they still barely knew each other. Mike moved closer. He was looking at her like he wanted to eat her. It made no sense to Brittany. How could he be this into her when he didn't know her favorite color, her favorite song or that she had a weird little heart shaped birthmark on her leg? He didn't know that she liked Sour Patch kids and that the first and only girl she had ever kissed was Santana, and that the only boy she had ever kissed was Lord Tubbington even though he kind of tasted like smoke.
How could Mike get to know that stuff better through kissing her? He was getting closer and closer. He was as close as Santana had been that night. He pressed his lips against hers roughly and Brittany choked back her horror at the sensation. He also smelled funny. Brittany had always been so sensitive to smells, and he smelled like spices.
Santana does this all the time though, Brittany thought and steeled herself determinedly and started kissing him back. His kisses only got rougher then, and he started touching her boobs, hurting her. It took everything Brittany had not to pull away. She chanted over and over in her head that this was what normal people like Santana did. She was so tired of people making fun of her. She just wanted the people cornering her in the halls to stop. She just wanted to fit in. Like Santana.
Santana.
"Santana," Brittany breathed out as Mike's hand began pulling Brittany's hand down lower. He had just forced her to graze the bulge in his pants, when he recoiled at the unwanted mention of the dark haired Cheerio. He dropped Brittany's hand.
"What about her?"
Brittany stared at him, and realizing something she said bluntly, "Santana knows more about me than you do, so why do you get to kiss me?"
"Um," he leaned back and studied her, astonished as to why he would need to explain something like that, "look Brittany, I'm only going to kiss you. It's no big deal."
He looked really disappointed with that fact, but obviously he wasn't going to pressure her to go further, as much as he wanted to.
"It is a big deal," Brittany said sticking her lower lip out and biting down, "you're… like the time they stopped selling Sour Patch Kids for a few months because they had all gone to rehab. Eventually I realized I had to buy Gummy Bears instead and align with them as my go-to candy or I'd have nothing to suck on in class. You know, it took me ages to realize that the reason I could only find Gummy Bears was because they were actually all the 'Kids that had come out of rehab clean. I waited and waited for them to get back to their old habits, but it was almost a whole year before I could buy Sour Patch Kids again."
"What?" Mike said obviously lost.
"You're using me, Mike. You're using me just like I used Gummy Bears. I'm not your favorite thing in the whole world. You don't know me. You're not kissing my insides, you're just kissing my outsides. And I'm doing the exact same thing back to you."
"So?" he said.
"So what's the point of that? What's the point of kissing, if it's not with someone that's always in your thoughts, someone that you carry with you everyday? If a person's not inside of you, why would you want to touch their outsides?"
"Because…," Mike seemed at a loss. Did this girl need sex drive explained to her or something? Was she insane? He paused, and the car was silent, only the low hum of the movie sounding in the darkness, as the couple on screen kissed.
"You know, you're weird Brittany," he said finally.
Brittany turned her head away from him and he watched her in silence as tears began to slowly leak from her eyes. She appeared to be making an obvious attempt to control herself, breathing steadily with an odd posture.
"Not in a bad way though," he added, not wanting to see a girl cry because of him, "just, different."
Brittany didn't trust herself to speak, but she made an effort, and turned halfway in his direction. She wanted to tell him he was wrong. She wanted to tell him that she was just a normal girl who was being lazy on purpose. When she felt like it, she would be able to figure out how to use doors and light switches properly and be worthy of people like Santana. Maybe then Santana would love her, and maybe she'd even marry her. Mike was wrong. Miss Pillsbury was wrong. They were all wrong about her.
She really wanted to say those things, but a part of her knew that the only one that was wrong, was her. A sob burst from her mouth and she panicked. She never let anyone but Santana see her cry if she could help it. She threw open the door, and practically jumped out of the car. She ran all the way home, going at double speed until she couldn't hear Mike's voice calling out for her anymore.
The next day, Brittany didn't help her group sell cupcakes. She left Santana and Puck to it, and went over to Kurt and Tina's table to help them sell theirs. Hardly any of theirs sold, but at least they remained on the table. Brittany watched Santana eat her own like she hadn't eaten in days.
Afterwards, Santana had rolled up in her borrowed wheelchair to Brittany's locker. Her fixed stare on her seemed dull and glassy, and to Brittany she looked as if she were actually a million miles away from here.
"Hey Britty," Santana said, "I missed you. You wanna come over so we can get our Buffy on? I've got season four waiting. We'll skip the episode with the floaty white demon guys though, I know how much they scared you last time."
Brittany's eyebrows shot up, and she looked at Santana curiously. "Okay," she said hesitantly, unsure how to react to this subdued and tired looking Santana, who didn't seem to remember they weren't talking to each other. Maybe she was having temporary memory loss.
Santana reached out her pinky to her and waited hopefully for Brittany to take it. When she did, their interlocked fingers hung between them. The height difference between Brittany standing, and Santana in the chair was a little awkward, but neither minded.
"I needs a distraction from all that stupid Puck and Quinn stuff. He cares way too much about his baby mama and he's all about running around buying her herbal tea and being on call for massages so she doesn't get stressed, and that little demon spawn inside her doesn't accidentally grow two heads while it is cooking," Santana said, breathing hard in between words. "Also, i'm over his damn daddy feelings, it's making him all philosophical and stuff. This shits getting too real with him and I'm bored of it."
Brittany crouched down beside Santana's chair, partly because the dark haired girl was speaking really fast and it was getting hard to understand her, but also because she was worried and wanted to look her over and see her better. Santana's face looked flushed and Brittany could feel an unnatural heat seeping through their interlocked pinkies. Brittany moved their hands into Santana's lap, and tried to follow what she was saying.
"…And you know it's so pathetic, because she's never going to even let him see it. The only thing that concerns me, is my bet for where her waters are going to break. It's currently only a bet with myself because I only thought of it just now, and I'm yet to challenge the entire school. But when I do, and when I win, everybody is so paying up, because I so called it," Santana was speaking at an even faster pace now and her words were getting jumbled. She lifted her other hand up and started running two shaking fingers down Brittany's jaw.
"What place do you bet on?" Brittany said leaning slightly into Santana's touch in spite of herself, as a male freshman walked by staring at them, looking oddly aroused.
"On stage," Santana said, then laughed a bit too loudly, "maybe during a Michael Jackson-esque type dance break down, imagine that?"
She coughed and wrestled with a wave of nausea for a moment, until she was able to swallow it down.
She patted her lap, "Come sit with me Britts, I'll wheel you to class. Why aren't you in your wheelchair anyway?"
"I lost it," Brittany whispered as she lowered herself into Santana's lap turning sideways as delicately as possible. She felt like in any moment, Santana might snap and remember their fight and hate her again, so she barely wanted to breathe let alone speak.
"Oh. How do you lose a fucking wheelchair?" Santana laughed, the sound merry to Brittany's ears in spite of everything.
"Um… well I didn't exactly lose it … it's just there was a one legged duck at the duck pond… and… I thought it needed it more than me so I pushed it into the duck pond as a present. But then, it sunk and… created like this massive whirlpool which sucked some of the ducks into another dimension and I'm totally waiting for them to come back wearing Viking hats."
Santana didn't have the heart to correct Brittany's fantasy. She just placed her arms around her waist and pulled her tighter, adjusting her more comfortably and changing the subject back to her previous rant. "You know, those dance routines Berry's been making us practice are killer, I'm surprised Quinn's little foetus hasn't already tried to make a hasty exit just to escape some of those twirling moves."
She popped a wheelie and then made them go flying down the corridor.
"That's mean San, you shouldn't joke about that stuff," Brittany scolded her, even though she was giggling at Santana's antics.
But I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo
"I can't help it, I'm not a nice person," Santana said, and offered her a tight grin that didn't reach her eyes. Beads of sweat were forming against her forehead. The small burst of energy had seemingly taken a lot of out of her. "My heart's not one of the muscles in my body that ever has to work very hard."
My tongue works way harder, she thought, sweat collecting and giving her face a sickly looking sheen.
Brittany noticed the change in her mood, and she hooked an arm around Santana's back instinctively before she froze, realizing what she had done.
"Yes you are San, you're a nice person," she said quietly expecting to be pushed away.
The tension in Santana's tight smile relaxed, making way for an openness that Brittany hadn't seen in a long time. She relaxed into Brittany's hold on her.
Brittany snuggled into her shyly, feeling Santana's heartbeat finally slow down. "You've always been nice to me," she said willing to forget the past few months in a second, now that they were together again. Everything was my fault anyway, she thought.
Santana closed her eyes. For a moment, there was only peace.
Brittany couldn't stop herself. If they were talking to each other again, she had to be honest. She had no sensor, it was like a disease. It was her worse habit of all, blurting out things she shouldn't at the wrong times.
"Santana… I did stuff with Mike."
Santana's face suddenly scrunched itself up like she was in pain, but as fast as it came, it was gone.
"That's great. Party hard Britt," she nodded her head at her.
"I didn't like it," Brittany admitted.
Santana's eyes snapped open.
"What? Did he force you to do anything? I swear to god. I'll kill him," she clenched her fists angrily as if she was imagining punching him out cold.
"No… well … yeah… no," Brittany stammered, unsure.
"Hijo de tu puta madre! I swear to god Brittany. This is why you shouldn't go out with people like that. They're dogs and you're just…you're so much better than that. You're innocent and pure. You're not like me. If they've done anything to fuck that up… I will…I'll…,"
What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here.
Suddenly, Santana turned a strange color and threw Brittany off her lap, standing up quickly. She stood still for a couple of minutes, steadying herself against a nearby locker, her chest heaving.
"Hey, San are you okay?" Brittany asked, her eyes widening anxiously.
She barely got her sentence out before Santana ran off to the bathroom, giving no thought to the wheelchair she had tossed aside and left behind.
Brittany chased her, only a few seconds behind her. When she reached her and pushed her way through the open stall, she wasn't surprised to see Santana's head bent over a toilet bowl as she retched, emptying her stomach. When she was done she slumped over, tired and defeated. Her eyes filled with tears.
"Oh… honey," Brittany said concerned, handing her a paper towel, unable to stay away from her when she was like this. Who was she kidding? She could never stay away from Santana. Not ever. "Are you sick?" she asked as she knelt down behind her, placing her hand at the bottom of where her hair was gathered at the back, and gently scratching her back through her uniform.
"No," Santana mumbled.
I don't care if it hurts. I want to have control.
"You're not sick?" Brittany said confused, placing both her hands on Santana's sides trying to draw her back to sit in her lap. Surprisingly, Santana willingly accepted as if she was starving for Brittany's touch and she had wanted this all along.
"No," Santana figured she should just tell her, "Britts, I've been taking pills, but the guy I've been getting them from has been away all week so I guess this is like some withdrawal or something. Either that or I'm having a bad reaction to pot-laced cupcakes, but I doubt that. And I didn't even eat that many."
"Yes you did," Brittany said automatically before she had time to process what Santana had said. Santana wasn't looking at her, choosing to find some spot on the wall to stare at.
"Yeah, okay I did. I haven't felt that hungry in the longest time, maybe it had something to do with the pills, because all of a sudden, as soon as I stopped taking them I felt like I was starving. Pot makes you hungry as well so it was like a double-whammy. Maybe I just ate too much," Santana said almost wanting to back out of this conversation. She didn't think she'd done anything wrong, but she never liked Brittany being disappointed in her.
Brittany leaned into her back and rested her head between the curves of her shoulder blades.
"Are you going to die San?" Brittany asked solemnly in that blunt way she had about her. Anyone listening to their conversation would think that by Brittany's tone of voice she didn't care, but Santana knew it was when she was the most vulnerable that her voice took on the blandest and least expressive of its tones.
"No Britt," she said reaching behind her clumsily and giving her a backwards hug. Brittany's arms came around her middle and squeezed her, but ever so gently because she knew Santana was still feeling nauseous.
They held each other like their lives depended on it for a few moments, until Santana spoke up again. "This pills thing, it's no big deal Brittany. A lot of people do it, they just don't tell you about it. A lot of people do it to have a good time, like at a party, but for me, it just makes me feel like I'm supposed to feel, you know? It makes me better. I'm not addicted or anything, I can stop anytime, it just makes things easier. It dulls all the noise in my head that tell me things I don't want to hear and it makes me more… people friendly."
I want a perfect body. I want a perfect soul.
Brittany found Santana's hand. She thought of how she had behaved with Mike and with most of the other people at this school that had approached her from time to time. With her eyes downcast she admitted something she didn't want to think about, "I'm not people friendly either."
"No," Santana said, "I know people don't get you, but you're not like me. There's something inside of me, a part of me that is just cold. I call her Snix. She doesn't want people, she doesn't even want to learn how to care for them. Snix could easily watch someone across the street from me blow up into a million pieces and honestly not care. You couldn't. You've always cared what people thought and tried to make everyone happy. Sometimes, Snix wants to kill like half the people in this school or she just smiles and bats her eyelids to get what she wants then disappear into oblivion without a second thought about leaving them cold. You can't control people, because if anything you're more likely to connect to them. You still fit in, in a way that Snix and I just don't, and sometimes, I wish I could pull her out of me and watch her blow up into a million pieces."
For a moment, all that could be heard was the sound of their breathing, and the brief rustling of fabric from the way Brittany was fiddling with Santana's top. This wasn't the place for such an intimate conversation, sitting on the cold bathroom tiles. Before Brittany could speak again, Santana lurched forward and began heaving for a second time even though she now had nothing in her stomach. Santana had just emptied her insides in more ways than one Brittany thought, not minding the situation and keeping her arms around Santana's body, trying to offer her at least that little comfort.
The desperation coming off Santana in waves that Brittany had noticed earlier was back, or maybe it had always been there and Brittany had just never noticed it before. In any case it scared her. She clung to Santana who held one of Brittany's hands in a vice grip. It was obvious that she needed something badly, but just what, Brittany didn't know.
I want you to notice when I'm not around. You're so fucking special. I wish I was special.
Sometimes, Santana just needed things to be real even if she wouldn't admit to it, Brittany thought. Sometimes she needed to drop the act she always put on and show her true face because keeping it locked inside seemed to poison her after a while.
She thought back to the time they were ten and Santana had found out her dad wasn't coming back. Santana had cried herself out in her arms, but later on, she had said she felt better and that Brittany had made her feel safe. Santana always needed help that she'd never ask for.
Santana let go of Brittany's hand, stiffened and arched her back folding her arms across her chest, evidently trying to close herself off from Brittany. Her face took on an air of impassiveness and the marks of years of defenses. Brittany saw it happening this time and spun her around to face her.
But I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo.
"No Santana," she said firmly, looking her in the eyes, the way she didn't often do, "no. You're better than that."
Santana's face became frightened and then she looked impossibly young. Brittany knew Santana had received her message loud in clear, but she still seemed to be struggling, unsure about where to put her hands and even more unsure about what to let herself feel.
"I'm right here," Brittany said softly.
For a few seconds, Brittany thought she had lost her when Santana moved to the opposite corner of the stall, her hair falling over her face which was tilted away so not to look in her direction.
What the hell I'm doing here? I don't belong here.
Brittany looked closely and realized that she still saw only the same vulnerability that she had seen when Santana was much younger. To her, Santana looked just like she did on the day she found out her dad wasn't coming to see her at Christmas. She remembered what Santana had said to her.
"Britts… I'm sorry if you're b…busy with it being Christmas and all… it's just… I really wanted to see you" she finally managed to get out, "and if I couldn't see you, I just wanted to sit here."
She needs me. Brittany realized and immediately closed the space between them. Sometimes, I have to meet her more than halfway. Santana fell into her lap, lying so her head and body was across Brittany's knees turning inward to face her. As she breathed in and out, she tickled the small patch of exposed skin on Brittany's stomach where her Cheerios top had ridden up. Brittany's hands came up to rest on Santana's head and she ran her hands through Santana's dark hair, massaging her scalp gently and rubbing her fingers up and down her neck.
Santana moved closer and sobbed into Brittany's stomach, hot tears soaking into her shirt. They waited it out as Santana's entire body shook and shuddered with sobs that she had been suppressing for longer than she cared to admit. Brittany kept rhythmically stroking her hair until Santana's shaking began to cease, having cried herself into some kind of peaceful coma. She lay still, her eyes shut tight, holding a fistful of the fabric of Brittany's shirt, her body now unmoving except for her chest which was rising and falling steadily.
Neither girl was sure how long they sat there together, but Brittany only moved Santana when the bell rang to go home. Santana had muttered into Brittany's stomach that her feet her too heavy and she didn't think she could walk, so Brittany promised to carry her home the whole way. In the midst of Santana's protests about never wanting to move ever again she had lifted her onto her back, keeping Santana's hands clasped together at the front and bracing her legs.
Brittany was tired by the time they reached Santana's house. Santana was much more of a dead weight than she usually was to carry. She had hardly said anything since they left, but that was okay. Santana seemed kind of content right now, exhaling little sighs into the back of her neck now and then.
Santana turned her head to the side, looking up at the horizon. "I saw your name in the sky yesterday," she whispered.
Brittany had no idea what she meant, but she nodded anyway. "It's a pity you didn't see my face too. Because then we could have conversations like Mufasa and Simba did when they were separated," Brittany whispered back.
"Oh, I wish I'd seen your face, you would be like my mirror in the sky, giving me advice," Santana smiled, turning her head back towards Brittany's neck. Brittany was like her mirror image, opposite to her in every way, yet the same. She buried her face back into Brittany's neck.
"Ooh you're cold," Brittany said as Santana's nose brushed against her jaw. She carried Santana up the stairs intending to tuck her into bed.
Santana thought maybe she should say something, but her head wasn't cooperating, she literally had no thoughts. She could function so much better on pills, than when she didn't have any. "If only you could be around all the time. If only I could keep you like the pills," she finally mumbled into Brittany's shoulder.
Whatever makes you happy. Whatever you want.
"I think you're better than drugs, San. Even when I had some, I'd rather have had you," Brittany said, wishing Santana would say it back.
Santana didn't. She wished she could tell Brittany what she wanted to hear, that she made her feel better than drugs, but she couldn't. There was no pure natural equivalent to being on substances, because happiness in real life came with too many catches. Life could make the side effects of drugs pale in comparison. Using drugs was the only thing she knew of that could make all the bad stuff go away. Using your heart was different, if you let in all the good stuff, you let in the bad as well, and the bad was almost always, just too hard. She could use drugs, or she could use her tongue to feel good, but unless she wanted consequences, she had to spend her life hiding her heart away.
Santana realized Brittany was looking at her anxiously waiting for an answer.
"I don't want to need drugs to be with you," Santana said finally. At least that was true. She wanted her time with Brittany to be real. She'd rather be high when she was with some of the other guys at school, and sometimes even with Puck, but she'd never want to take pills to be with Brittany. Maybe it would make things easier between them, but Santana was finally beginning to see that easier didn't always mean better.
Though she didn't blame Brittany for avoiding her this past couple of months after what she'd said, her life had seemed so dark without the sunshine her best friend always brought. Even if just looking at that kind of brightness hurt sometimes, Santana knew now that the pain she felt over it, wasn't as bad as the absence of having no sunshine at all.
Pills could give her all the simulated highs in the world, but when she looked back, every time it was like it had all happened to another person. It was good at the time, but it didn't mean anything. Sometimes I just need things to be real, she thought, unknowingly echoing Brittany's own thoughts from earlier. And though she deserves better than me, she's the only one who makes real life seem worthwhile, she thought, clutching at her tight. She would try to see the sun again. If she couldn't do it for herself, she would do it for Brittany.
You're so fucking special. I wish I was special.
Brittany lowered her down to sit on the bed. Santana grumpily complied and let go, immediately feeling cold at the loss of contact. Brittany pulled back the covers, then noticing the other girl was shivering, she raised them up to her chin once Santana had shuffled into her spot in the middle of her bed. Leaning over, she brushed her fingers across Santana's forehead, and told her she hoped that she felt better soon.
Santana did feel better in some ways. Her insides were still twisting around, but the buzzing in her head had gone away and she felt pure and whole, like she'd come from being a chrysalis to a butterfly. She felt so much lighter knowing all was not lost; that she hadn't lost Brittany, even after all this time. She vowed for what seemed like the millionth time that she would be a better person, at least while they were together. The last few months felt like a wasted mess of regrets.
Brittany could tell Santana wanted to say something more, so she waited a few minutes, her head on one side quizzically looking at her. When Santana didn't speak, she simply walked back and sat on the edge of Santana's bed, eventually getting under the covers next to her.
Everything about her feels so warm and inviting right now, Santana thought, the longing spreading through every inch of her skin. Longing came with a certain tension, and as the events of the day began and the reality of the moment began to catch up with her, Santana felt her body began to regress back into a caterpillar, enclosed in its cocoon. She fought against it, willing herself to stay here with the girl she loved most, willing herself to not run away from the heat.
They lay facing each other, taking turns breathing. Santana's eyes were averted, but Brittany's were fixed on her face.
"Look at me, San?" Brittany pleaded, turning the words she'd so often heard Santana say in their childhood back at her. She understood now why Santana had always hated her staring at her feet, because looking away made her seem so disconnected from the situation. Brittany wished she could do-over all the moments where she had made Santana feel like she wasn't really with her when they were talking, just like Santana was doing back to her right now.
Santana slowly turned her head and faced her, her eyes like open doors, the regrets and constant craving stark in her brown orbs. Brittany let herself be pulled inside until Santana broke the trance, realizing that if she didn't, she want going to bolt out of here, to the nearest house, to the nearest stupid boy. She started to quietly hum a tune that Brittany recognized as the Spanish lullaby her Abuela used to sing to her as a child.
It had taken Santana years to admit that memory to Brittany.
"What's your favorite memory from before you met me?" ten year old Brittany said, wanting to know everything about her friend.
"No way, you'll think it's stupid!" Santana said back, crossing her arms.
"No I won't, you're never stupid to me, Santana."
"Okay, Britt don't laugh, but my favorite memory from before you was when my Abuela used to sing me Somewhere over the Rainbow. The last time she did it was ages ago, when I was just a little kid, like only three years old. There are you happy now?" little Santana said, pouting. It was pretty much the only happy memory she had from all those years she was left at Abuela's house, but still, it was a good one.
"I love that song Santana, but I promise I won't tell anyone anyway," Brittany said linking their pinkies together in promise, and jiggling them up and down until the other girl finally laughed.
Santana smiled at the memory and kept humming the tune, starting to slip in some of the words, until finally she was singing whole verses, seeing how suddenly tired it was making Brittany look.
Detras del arcoiris
rumbo al sol
mas alla de las nubes
hay mucho mas que amor
Brittany yawned, all she wanted to do was sleep, days like this always took so much out of her. She caught Santana's own tired but triumphant grin. "What?" Brittany asked sleepily.
Santana grinned wider, "I'm trying to get you to fall asleep."
"Why?" Brittany managed, her half closed eyes shutting out most of Santana's face. Santana breathed a sigh of relief.
"So you'll stay," Santana lied. So I'll stay, she thought.
Her response seemed to trigger something in Brittany, "I'll always stay," she said sleepily, seeming to drift in and out of full consciousness. "If you really want me, you only have to ask."
Santana's smile turned into a frown, "I don't deserve you, B."
You're so fucking special. I wish I was special.
Brittany shook her head agitatedly. "No, its me, I'm sorry I'm not…," she trailed off. "I'm sorry I don't understand anything. I'm sorry I'm not more like… But if you still want me… I'll stay."
She closed her eyes again as if in defeat.
Santana began humming again, though her voice had become strained in discomfort.
Brittany exhaled softly and listened, concentrating on breathing out and in. She kept her eyes shut tight when Santana's voice died out. In her head, she imagined Santana was still singing. Whenever she danced without music, it was always Santana's voice she heard so loud in clear in her mind.
She felt a feather light presence as the softest of kisses was pressed into her jaw. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, not daring to move. She realized that the voice she heard wasn't in her head, Santana really was whispering to her so quietly telling her she was sorry over and over.
"You're perfect, Brittany," Santana mumbled, her speech almost unintelligible, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's me, not you. Lo siento, I'm sorry."
You float like a feather. In a beautiful world.
Brittany squeezed her eyes shut tighter as more kisses began to rain down on her face. She felt tiny bites on her neck, almost barely there, like little mouse kisses and little mouse bites.
Noticing that she had stopped breathing, Santana placed a hand on her chest waiting for her chest to eventually rise.
Understanding what she meant for her to do, Brittany inhaled and tried to breathe more normally.
"That's better," Santana murmured.
Brittany chanced the tiniest of peeks, and found Santana was leaning over her, propped up by only one arm, the other wiping away a tear from her own closed eyes.
"Te amo Britt," she whispered, saying I love you in a way she knew Brittany wouldn't understand. "Te, amo, te amo."
Neither was sure who made the first move but at the same time they both pressed their bodies together, tangling themselves up in each other. Brittany's last thought before sleep overcame her was that she had no idea where her body began and where Santana's finished. The contrast in skin color was the only way to tell who was who, and with her eyes closed Brittany couldn't tell if the leg she just brushed against was hers or not.
She would never be able to tell herself apart from Santana. They were too closely intertwined in Brittany's mind. She couldn't see herself, because she was too invested in Santana, her focus was too far from her own self. Maybe that was Brittany's own addiction she had to fight, or at least her own journey she had to take. She fell asleep realizing that Santana had told her she was nice. She may be stupid, but at least she was nice. It comforted her to think there was something more to her than just red F's and misunderstandings. There was something more to her, she was than her relationship with Santana, though right now, as they lay entangled with Santana's body pressed so close against hers, it didn't seem like anything else existed in the world.
Listening to the sound of Brittany's even breathing, Santana felt her own eyes finally closing. She had been up many nights this week because she didn't see the point in sleeping because she knew she'd only have nightmares and wake up tired afterwards. In the safety of Brittany's arms which brought about the peacefulness and stillness of her own mind, a dreamless sleep finally found her.
Three (long) things:
1. This isn't a 'drug addict falling to pieces' story. I could write more about the effects of Santana and recreational drugs and what she specifically went through, but I don't know yet how much will actually end up being put in, because it's not the focal point of the story. It happened, it definitely had consequences, but Santana was never dependant on just one thing for her addictions, and while I'm sure Dexedrine has probably sadly ruined many other lives and relationships, as it happened it was like a visitor that popped in and out of our lives because she'd start, move on to something else, then go back to it. It's hard to explain, but when someone jumps from addiction to addition, be it boys, Puck, Dexedrine or... literally anything that filled the space in her head even if it was skydiving, it's kind of more like you're not an addict for drugs, you're an addict for 'somethings.' It's harder for any one thing to gain control over you when you change things so fast and divide yourself between them. It feels more like you're at the mercy of yourself, rather than at the mercy of one drug.
Some people even take other drugs as like a patch to cure other addictions.
But there are no pills for addictions to 'the next thing.'
And for me, there were no pills for my addiction to Santana. Hence the title.
I still don't know what to think of the whole thing. I don't judge her, I just want her to be happy and healthy.
2. For me, it wasn't actually pseudoephedrine, it was an anti-anxiety drug "Miss Pillsbury" gave me after seeing the 'I am stupid'-esque pages in my diary at the time. There are bumps in the road to becoming unicorn, and all that self doubt was definitely some big ones.
I pretty much refused to take it after only a week. She said it was a 'short term' drug. All I could think about was that I'd still be "Brittany" in the long term, so why keep bothering with them? After that I was tempted with drugs many times, occasionally by "Santana" when she wasn't thinking straight, but I could never bring myself to 'cheat'. I knew I had at least some sort of potential to learn how to function better by myself without the aid of substances. Here's a metaphor. I saw giving into temptation the same as allowing someone to push me around in a wheelchair every day, I may have not been doing too great, I may have been crawling around at the time, but I knew I could walk if I kept trying. The easy way out, wasn't fair to people who really had to be in wheelchairs, and there would be consequences or side effects to wheelchairs too, like you saw how hard it was for the characters on the show to use them. I don't know if that's the best metaphor, but I had a go anyway.
Note: I respect that there are many people out there who really do need drugs to correct chemical imbalances in their brains and other serious problems, and I know that situation is very different. That's not recreation, that's medication.
3. It's not just Disney, unlikely animal friendships in real life are the best! I love this tumblr page.
unlikelyfriendshipsbook. tumblr. com (take the two spaces out)
I have absolutely no idea what she meant by "I saw your name in the sky." She said it several times like it was really important, so I explained it away in this story with some Disney and a Landslide reference, but really it's an unsolved mystery that still bugs me even today, because I asked her what she meant a few days later and she didn't remember.
And here is a very peppy sounding version of Santana's lullaby, the Spanish version of Somewhere over the rainbow. /watch?v=4G3Q979CSCI
I couldn't find anyone else singing it. "Santana" did sing that song to me though when I was sad and she has the same childhood history with it as well. But, even though she was totally all about closed eyes and secret codes, she actually stuck with English for that one. For the story I wanted to keep up the trend of Santana expressing herself in Spanish.
The song I featured was "Creep" by Radiohead. It's one of Santana's favorite songs.
Lastly, if anyone didn't understand why Brittany was calling a legend, a 'foot' at the beginning, try breaking the word legend in half and then taking it literally. :P