A/N: Thank you to aStarLightFairy and QueenDiannaAgron for helping me out as beta-readers and discussing some ideas until I felt like it fit the story I want to tell. This is a very personal piece. I hope you'll enjoy going on this journey as much as I did while writing.


Her hands were shaking with nerves. She hoped that Santana wouldn't notice so she kept them hidden in her lap. Santana was looking on ahead anyway, focused on the road in front of her, brows furrowed in concentration. It was already past nine in the evening and usually, the girl hated driving in the dark. Not that anyone else would know that, obviously. Santana Lopez wasn't afraid of the dark, not unless it was only her and Brittany – then, then she'd be afraid of anything and everything all at once. She wouldn't have let Brittany take the bus back, though, and had instead insisted on giving her a ride. This was her best friend in the world, she would always drive them both home after one of their 'double dates' which they usually went on to earn a free dinner at BreadstiX.

She sighed. It was getting harder and harder to pretend that she found these dates with guys interesting or even fun. She just went along with it because it made Santana happy to get her breadsticks for free – and whatever made Santana happy, well, that was something she'd always go along with. Always. She was just glad that they hadn't had to make out with them or anything.

It was her little secret but whenever she had to, she just pictured her best friend in her mind instead. The rough feeling under her fingers, some guy's face, barely shaven sometimes, became her favourite soft skin. Short hair, no matter the colour became dark long locks wound around her fingers like a spiral. Careless slobbery kisses became those delicious lip locking moments that always had a tinge of cherry in them. It was more of a memory than a fantasy, anyway, having had the pleasure and privilege to be able to kiss Santana's lips dozens of times. In the beginning, instead of cherry, their kisses had always tasted of alcohol as they'd only make out while drunk.

But something changed during their sophomore year, and their make out sessions got considerably more regular and most often, found them both sober. Kissing and making out naturally progressed into more and more, leaving her with dozens of memories of Santana's bare skin clashing against hers in moments of heated passion.

Lost in thought, she stared out of the window, seeing the overhead lights flashing by, the houses and trees on the side of the road passing them in a blur. Her eyes were having trouble keeping anything fixed in her field of vision, and it felt like the same was happening with her thoughts which were equally flashing by in a blur.

Brittany let out a heavy sigh. "Are you alright, Britt?" Came the concerned inquiry by her best friend. She was always like that; looking out for her, and it made it so much more difficult not to fall ore in love with her. Not that she ever stood a chance, but she had tried. She had tried to fall in love with someone else, had dated and kissed and-

And it always came back to the same conclusion. She was in love. With her best friend, she was in love with Santana Lopez.

The radio was playing a song by a band she didn't recognize. Music was something she loved, too. Right in that moment, though, it was something that annoyed her, because it felt like those words and those voices were intruding on their intimate moment together. It was supposed to be just the two of them. Just Santana and Brittany. And maybe, it was meant for them to always be Santana-and-Brittany. At least, that's what she hoped.

"Yeah, sure," she mumbled. She was chewing on her lower lip, trying to find the courage which had somehow deserted her during the past ten minute ride in Santana's car. Well, it was actually her father's but Santana didn't like being reminded of that fact.

While they were sitting in the restaurant, Brittany hadn't been able to keep her eyes off the other girl. She was wearing a tightly fitted white dress that made her hair and tan skin stand out even more than usual. Santana could pull off almost any outfit, but this look had Brittany's heartbeat in an uproar. It was majestic, and she couldn't look away all night. It had honestly felt like a date to her, and if it hadn't been for those two football players interrupting with their guffaws and obnoxious attempts at conversation and flirting, she would have kissed Santana right there and then.

"You know you can tell me anything, right, Britt-Britt? You are the only one who doesn't get on my nerves and I will always listen to you," she said. Brittany could practically hear the smirk on her face right now without having to turn her head and look at her. What a way to make a girl feel special. She didn't dare looking at her best friend, though. If she looked, she would never be brave enough to put herself out there. Santana didn't get to play this off as a joke, Brittany decided. No way. This was it – time to go.

Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward and turned the radio off. This called for absolute silence. Brittany wanted to let her voice say it all, so that Santana could hear her heart talking. Letting herself fall back into her seat, she swallowed and closed her eyes.

"I am scared you'll hate me," she finally whispered after a moment of hesitation.

At that, Santana turned her head to look at her. She could feel her eyes on herself and it just made it harder to keep her breathing under control. Her palms were sweating and it all just made her very uncomfortable. When did being around Santana stop feeling nice, and become such a torture?

"Britt..."

Her eyes fluttered open. She turned her head to look at Santana. This was important. She couldn't screw this up. People usually told her she was not good with words but she was determined to get it right.

"No, listen," she interrupted harshly. "I know you don't want us to, like, talk about it. But I can't just- I can't- We need to talk about this, about- about it." Stuttering. She was getting into that dangerous territory where she'd get too frustrated to talk.

She took a moment to gather herself. She needed to sort her thoughts before it all came tumbling out.

Sex is not dating. That phrase haunted her night and day. She didn't want sex with Santana. Or well, she definitely did, it was usually the highlight of her day, no pun intended. But it was about more than just sex. It was about feelings. It was about how hard her heart started beating whenever Santana was near. About how her thoughts got even more difficult to follow than they already were on a normal day.

About how when she thought about her future, she only saw Santana. And she saw them being together, in love. Sharing a love like the songs and books talked about. The kind love poems were written about. (She had gotten into poetry, recently. It was usually very hard for her to follow words and understand meaning but when she read those poems and thought of Santana, she felt like she could finally read, for real. Like she could understand what all those words and rhymes were meant to mean. Because she felt it, too.) She wanted that, and she wanted it now. She was tired of waiting.

A stutter, "It? I don't know what you mean."

Santana had never been a very good actress. At least not with Brittany around she couldn't act to save her life. Brittany always saw right through her.

"What are we doing Santana?" she asked tiredly in a much softer tone. She had no energy left to play any guessing games, or any games at all.

"Brittany, you know I care a lot about you, right?" Santana was trying to look at her but had to turn her eyes back to the road as they were still in the car. Maybe that's why she didn't notice the way Brittany's jaw set, or the hard swallow that followed.

Nothing would have prepared for the next few words out of the blonde's mouth. It was now or never.

"I love you, Santana. Like, real love, you know? I am in love with you. I want to be with you. I don't care if we have to sneak around or hide what we have in school. I just want to be with you. I would do anything for you, Santana. Please give me a chance. Please give us a chance?"

By the end of her little speech, she was breathless. Her heartbeat was out of control and she could hear the rush of blood in her ears. Her nails burrowed into her palms, she waited.

It was only a second, maybe, until Santana turned her head to the right to lock eyes with her but it felt like hours. She could see how wide Santana's eyes were, how baffled she looked. She could also make out a faint flush on her cheeks which made her that much more beautiful.

It reminded her of a Santana without inhibitions, loving and living away with her when they were alone. It reminded her of the bashful blush that would rise onto her cheeks whenever Brittany told her how beautiful she was when they were in bed together, after she'd seen the girl she was in love with fall apart around her fingers and tongue. It really was a mesmerizing sight.

"Britt-" she breathed into the air between them. Brittany could see it in her eyes, the way she was still doubting it. Still insecure about it.

Something only a few people knew, was that Santana did not feel worthy of love. Actually, maybe she was the only one apart from Santana herself to realize this. At her core, Santana was probably the most insecure person she knew. But she didn't care – she wanted her, and she'd show her how valuable she was. How precious she was to her and how all she wanted was to be with her.

"I love you, San," she repeated with a nervous smile.

Slowly, she could see how a small smile started to take form on Santana's face. It was a shy smile, still so very infused with her insecurities, but it was also an honest smile.

"Brittany-" she started, but whatever else she might have wanted to say – it never reached Brittany's ears.

Santana's eyes were impossibly wide, and she saw them shine brightly with the reflection of two balls of yellow that reminded her of the sun. Her gaze was burning into her like a flame. Suddenly, all she felt was a fire burning through her body. Was this what the sun felt like when you got too close?

An explosion went off around her, and it started raining shards of glass. Myriads of little pieces of melted sand buried into her skin. She could feel the blast in her ears; she could feel it like the bang of a drum being hit, only inside her head. The reverberation made her bones ache and her ears felt like someone had stabbed her with a little knife.

She had to close her eyes against the pain that was searing through her body. For a moment, she wondered if she'd gotten too close to Santana and that's why she was being consumed by flames, lapping at her skin, covering her up with pain. Maybe Santana was the sun and she was this guy they'd read about it class. Icarus or something. You never, ever should fly too close to suns. It just wasn't healthy.

Something cold was pressing painfully against her right side. With all her might, she forced her hand to reach there and when she made contact with the coldness, something hard, maybe metal, she began to feel her breath leaving her. Breathing wasn't supposed to be this hard, it should just flow. Why wasn't it flowing?

Flowing. Something was. Like a river – a warm, lovely river.

A thick warm liquid was running over her fingers. In the back of her head, she wondered if it was blood, maybe. This didn't feel too good. She heard ringing all around her and for a second, she tried to remember if Santana's car had an alarm and if that's the noise that wouldn't stop. She should tell Santana to make it stop.

With much difficulty, she managed to open her eyes. At first, nothing made sense. Was the world upside down? Where is up, where is down? There was a light shining on her, and there was a blurry figure sprawled across the seat on her side- Left, right? Right, left. The side that didn't feel like it had been melted by Icarus. Or maybe the side that was Icarus. Anyway, not that one, the other one. She blinked furiously, willing her eyes to focus.

A small figure, a woman. Tan skin.

Beautiful skin. She was sure that if she reached out to touch it, it would feel deliciously soft against her fingertips. Maybe, if she reached out, she could run her hands along those arms, and maybe she could reach that pretty bracelet hanging from her wrist. Bracelet? She recognized it. She looked harder at the woman, the girl.

Dark hair, elegant curls framing the most beautiful face she'd ever seen. So, so beautiful. If only she could see into those lovely brown eyes...

Brown eyes. Lovingly looking at her, like she always would look at her. A mixture of adoration and sweet patience. She really liked it when Santana looked at her like that and she loved how her eyes reminded her of melted chocolate. Santana's-

Santana!

It was Santana. The girl she loved more than anything, and she wasn't moving.

She had to get up. She had to help her.

Had she told her yet? She couldn't remember. She had promised herself she'd tell Santana. It was important. She'd even written it down on her to-do list which meant it was really super important. She was the most important person.

Did she love her too? Santana-and-Brittany, always?

She needed to get her out. Out of-

She couldn't remember. Where were they? Her head was pounding stronger than before, and she still couldn't take a proper breath. She felt dark hands grabbing at her from the edges of her vision. They were everywhere, no matter how often she shook her head to get rid of them. Grabby hands, but at least no hands were trying to get Santana. A small victory, but a relief nonetheless.

Everything around her was spinning, and she was the only constant. Why could the world not stop for a second so she could remember where she was? Why was it important to get Santana out?

Because she wasn't moving. So she had to get her out. Or something, but she definitely had to get to her. Yes. She needed to be closer.

"Santana!" she screamed, but she couldn't hear anything but a spluttering sound. Did she forget to put the earplugs out of her ears? Or did she have a slushie in her mouth that didn't let her talk. Or chewing gum. It was warm, and sticky. Not her usual flavour, either - it tasted like metal.

Had she licked metal? It didn't taste too good. It was also quite painful.

Her spluttering seemed to be effective though because soon enough, she could see Santana's eyelids flutter, followed by chocolate.

Furious blinking, and then she was looking at her.

Brittany tried to smile but it felt like her face had been split in two, so she didn't.

Santana's mouth was moving but she couldn't really hear anything. Maybe Santana had forgotten how to talk, or it was Brittany who had forgotten how to hear. She'd need to put that onto her to-do list so she would remember, next time.

It was getting harder to stay focused. Something was drawing her thoughts away and the pain wasn't helping any. Slowly, she let her body relax as best as she could and her head rolled back. Everything hurt.

Had she eaten some of the fiery shards? Something was cutting against her throat and lungs. The pressure was getting too much. It felt like a hug from one of these relatives you don't even like and they keep pressing you tighter, and tighter, until you can't breathe. And now, even trying to breathe in was like swallowing fire and glue. It was too sticky, too dense – covering her airways and closing them up.

Glue isn't supposed to go in there, she was pretty sure of that. She tried to spit it out, but the gurgling sensation that was the reward of her efforts just made her retch. She wanted to puke.

She felt hands clawing at her face. Instantly, she tried to pry them off of her, but she was too weak. Turning her head she looked directly into Santana's eyes. They looked like a feral animal's eyes. Wild, frantic.

Something wet fell onto her skin. A tear.

And something red was falling onto Santana's beautiful white dress. Drop after drop, ruining the pristine cloth. It painted a horrific picture, the red. Red was Santana's colour but this red was all wrong – wrong shade, wrong shape, wrong source. This would not do.

Santana was crying, and saying something, but it was too hard to connect sound and words and meaning. She was still gurgling and trying to retch. When her stomach contracted to retch, the pain became too much for her to bear. She was swallowing too much glue; soon, she'd be too sticky to breathe.

Santana had her pressed to her body, in a tight embrace, pulling her face to the side and downwards. It helped with the sticky feeling and she felt a little bit better. Maybe it was just because she was in her arms, she pondered. It usually made her feel better because she could breathe in Santana's scent and that made her the happiest.

Flashes of red and blue invaded the periphery of her vision; seems like the grabby hands had turned on some party lights. How festive. She'd have liked to join the fun, but she was feeling too tired for it.

So very tired.

She felt her body give in – give up – and she let herself sink into Santana. She felt her hands all over her, and if it wouldn't hurt so much, she'd smile. Instead, she tried to be as still and unmoving as possible. Every single inch she moved, hurt. Every breath she tried to take, hurt. Better not to.

Santana's soft and graceful fingers were at her throat, frantically looking, searching. What for? She already knew all the spots that made her leave her body when she kissed there. Right there.

Thinking about Santana's kisses felt so real. She could almost feel her lips on her forehead. Like a ghost, gracing her skin with her touch. That was such a nice thought, Brittany decided. She'd sleep and dream of that now.

So she did.