A few of you asked if I would write more in this verse, so here's another chapter for you, this time from Brittany's point of view.
Warning: this contains a description of how Santana became a ghost. It was a hate crime. With attempted non-con. I bolded the triggery bits of this chapter, so that you can skip it if you want to. I'm not going into much detail, but I really don't want to trigger any of you.
Chapter 2: Real to Me"Hey Brittany?"
"Yes?"
"My boyfriend proposed last night."
Brittany squealed and hugged her roommate. "Congrats! I'm so happy for you, Olivia!"
Olivia smiled back tentatively. "So… I'll be moving in with him. You'll have to find a new roommate. Or a new place to live."
Brittany shrugged. "Okay."
Brittany quickly realised that finding a new roommate was definitely easier at the beginning of the school year than in April. She put flyers up at Juilliard, but no-one called her, so after a week, she contacted a realtor to check out one-bedroom apartments. Most of them were way above her budget or much too far away from school, but there was one that fit her needs perfectly. She was kind of surprised it hadn't been snapped up already, but didn't think much of it. Probably just come back on the market.
She moved in at the end of the month, and she fell in love with the place straightaway. Lord and Lady Tubbington, though, seemed disgruntled at having to move yet again, and showed their annoyance by keeping her awake at night and being extra clumsy with the kitchenware.
Brittany didn't let that get to her. The apartment was truly perfect, and exuded an atmosphere that made her feel at home. There seemed to be a benevolent presence around, too, who kept her from being killed or hurt more than once, and who protected her from the cold or the heat and helped her out in a million little ways.
A classmate at Juilliard once saw Brittany's bag hurtle after her when she'd forgotten it after jazz ballet, and shrieked. "The-the-the-the BAG! It MOVED! All by itself!"
Brittany was quick to reassure her. "Aw, don't worry! That's just my guardian angel, who looks after me."
The girl stared at Brittany for a long while, and then hissed "Freak".
From that moment onward, Brittany noticed that most of the students kept their distance from her, but she didn't let it get to her.
Her guardian angel had started singing along every time Brittany sang, and that was way more exciting than any friendships she might have nurtured at Juilliard. She only wished, with all her heart, that she might one day get to see her angel.
Someone must have heard her wish, because a few weeks later, Brittany was showering and singing 'Valerie' with her invisible duet partner, and when she opened her eyes after rinsing her hair out, there she was. Her guardian angel. A gorgeous brunette, who looked at Brittany as though expecting her to start screaming hysterically.
Brittany didn't, of course. She wasn't at all scared. So she introduced herself and asked for the angel's name.
The woman in front of her gaped and blinked, and it took a full minute before she'd recovered enough to speak. "I'm Santana."
Brittany beamed at Santana. "I'm so pleased to finally meet you! I've wanted to for ages. To say thank you, you know. I know it's your job to be my guardian angel, but I really appreciate all that you do for me and I wanted to tell you so."
Santana's mouth fell open again. "Guardian angel?"
"Oh, maybe you have a different term for it where you come from. I really didn't mean to offend you. But, yes… That's what we call the one who watches over us here."
Santana, her eyes still wary, nodded in acknowledgement of Brittany's explanation.
"So, thank you. I know you have your work cut out with me. I never notice my surroundings. Must drive you crazy."
That coaxed a tiny smile out of Santana. "Yep. You can say that again."
"I made cookies, if you want one," Brittany offered, wrapping a towel around herself. "They're in the kitchen, and they should still be a bit warm."
Santana blinked again, slowly. "I… don't eat."
Brittany, now wringing her hair out and twisting it into a another towel, saw a touch of wistfulness in Santana's eyes, and empathised. "I guess, as an angel, you don't need food, but it's a pity you don't even get to try it."
Santana bit her lip and did a one-sided shoulder wiggle. "Uhm, I'm… not… an angel. I'm a ghost."
That surprised Brittany. "A ghost? But you're so nice! You're always helping me! Shouldn't you be trying to get me out of your place so that you can haunt it in peace?"
For a split second, there was a flash of something that looked like hurt in Santana's eyes. Then, she shrugged and said coolly, "The realtor would just send me new people. This is prime real estate."
Brittany beamed at her. "It so is. I lucked out that I found it, and found you, too. You make me feel less alone here in the big city. Every time you sing with me, it feels like having a friend, you know? I like it. I like it a lot."
Santana's expression softened, and she murmured, "Me too."
Brittany went to her bedroom to pick an outfit and took off the towel to put the clothes on. "So can you tell me a bit more about yourself, or is that against the rules?"
When she didn't get an answer straightaway, she looked over her shoulder at her ghost friend, and caught Santana's eyes lingering on her boobs. She grinned. "You like girls? Me too. Well, I like both boys and girls."
Santana ducked her head with a tiny smile, and acknowledged, "I like girls."
"I've never dated a girl, though," Brittany continued. "Have you?"
Santana looked at Brittany for a long while without saying anything. Then she cleared her throat and lowered her eyes to the floor. "One time."
Brittany cocked her head to the side. "Was… Was that how you died?"
Santana applauded slowly, a sneer on her face. "Right in one!"
Brittany hesitated. "Would you tell me about it? I want to know how you became a ghost."
Santana sized her up again, and Brittany made sure to smile at her encouragingly and to appear as nonthreatening as she could.
In the end, that paid off. Santana sat down next to her on the bed, and turned her upper body towards Brittany, who grabbed her friend's hands and squeezed them. That made Santana's eyes widen, and she stayed silent for another long while, looked at their joined hands with an expression that was half sadness, half yearning.
"I was living here with friends. Trying to make a living doing commercials and singing back-up and modelling. Both of my friends moved out when they caught their big break, and I had to start working as a waitress to make the rent. And then I met Dani. In the diner where I worked. And she was pretty. Blonde and perky, and she had a smile that touched your heart right away. She liked me too."
Santana's shoulders slumped, and she seemed to be holding back tears, so Brittany moved closer still, and put her arm around Santana's waist.
Santana's eyes went wide again, but then she smiled at Brittany. Tremulously, and with a tear trickling down her cheek, but with so much emotion it made her entire face glow.
"Thank you."
Santana didn't continue her story straight off. She stared at the wall in front of her for five minutes at least. Brittany didn't move, didn't talk, content to hold her friend and wait until Santana was ready.
When at last, Santana cleared her throat and started talking again, her voice sounded thin and pinched.
"We… After a night shift, Dani convinced me to stick around until the sun came up. And we sang together, Here Comes The Sun, and it was… lovely. She walked me to my apartment, we made out on the couch a little, but we were too tired to do more, and she had somewhere to be later that day. So we were kissing goodbye in the doorway when… when they came. There were five of them. They were drunk. One of them was my neighbour. When they saw us kissing, they catcalled. We didn't react, and that made them angry. And they said they'd show us how good it could be with a man. They pulled us apart, and this beefy guy with a beer belly grabbed Dani's boobs and tried to kiss her, and I just saw red and started kicking and slapping him everywhere I could reach. I got him off her, but then something hit my head and everything went black."
Santana swallowed, and Brittany squeezed her hand.
"When I came to, Beer Belly was still forcing himself on Dani, so I got up and yelled, 'Let her go!' The other guys all screamed when they saw and heard me, so Beer Belly looked behind him and went pale, and the next thing I knew, they'd all run off. Then Dani saw, and she started to scream bloody murder as well. And I went, 'Honey, it's me. They've gone. It's me, Santana.' But she scrabbled up off the floor and babbled, 'I'm going mad. I'm going mad. I'm seeing ghosts. I… I need to get out of here.' And she left and wouldn't listen to anything I said."
Santana sniffled, and Brittany rubbed her arm up and down.
"And then I turned around and saw why they'd all been so spooked. My body was lying on the floor. My head bashed in. I was dead. So Dani was right. I'd become a ghost."
Tears ran down Santana's cheeks, and Brittany took one of her towels and gently patted her face dry.
"My mother came to… identify me. When I appeared to her, she thought I was a side effect of the antidepressants she'd been taking. Wouldn't listen to me at all. Not then. Not during the funeral. Not after. So after a while, I stopped trying."
Santana sighed, and Brittany put her head on Santana's shoulder.
"I went looking for my friends, too. Rachel and Kurt. But Rachel was horrible, shouting at me to go away or she'd find a Jewish exorcist. And I couldn't find Kurt. I found out later that he'd died around the same time as me. Run over by a car. An accident, they said."
Silence filled the room. Brittany went back to rubbing Santana's arm.
"I was lonely," said Santana. "And angry, you know? So angry. So every time someone took my apartment, I scared them away. It was really easy, too. You're the first tenant that isn't freaked out."
"Why would I?"
Santana quirked an eyebrow. "Because I'm a ghost, remember?"
Brittany shrugged. "You're beautiful. Inside and out. That's all that matters to me. I like you."
Santana looked down at their joined hands. "And how is it you can touch me? Nobody else can."
Brittany thought about it for a moment. "Maybe it's because I believe in you. Because you're real to me. I don't think of you as a ghost, but as a person. My friend Santana."
Santana let out a choked sound somewhere between a sob and a giggle. "Right. That's… nice. Friends."
"So would it be okay if I kept living here?" Brittany asked. "You don't seem to have a problem with me, and I like it here, with you. I really don't want to move again."
Santana looked at Brittany, and a smile softly stole over her face, brightening it like a sunrise. "Yes. Yes, you can stay."