A/N: A filled prompt for the gleeangstmeme. Flashbacks in italics
"Brittany and Santana aren't just best friends, they're codependent. No one's really surprised when, less than a week after Brittany dies in a car accident, Santana tries to follow her."
Santana Lopez was a bitch. Ask anyone. Kurt would tell you, with a sniff and upturned nose, about how she called him Pear Hips. Rachel would give you an essay on the insults she received daily ranging from her wardrobe to her personality. Santana Mess-with-me-I'll-kick-your-ass Lopez was indestructible. Or so everyone thought.
The news came on a sunny Tuesday afternoon. The weather was merely paradoxical, Santana thought bitterly as she stared out the window of her two story bedroom. The dull yellow curtains that draped her window made her sick. Brittany loved the color yellow.
"Oh San, look at it! It's beautiful!" Britt exclaimed, holding the sundress to her body and spinning laughably.
Santana spared a smile for her friend. "Why do you like it so much Britt Britt?" she queried as the blonde gushed over the article of clothing.
Brittany flashed her pearly white teeth. "It's yellow. It's like wearing sunshine," she explained, somber written all over her pretty features.
Santana couldn't help but grin back at her friend. Linking pinkies with Brittany, she said "Then it's yours."
Brittany opened her mouth to protest. "It's fine Britt, really," Santana cut in while Brittany looked guilty.
"It isn't my birthday or Christmas though. Right?"
Santana chuckled. "No Britt. It's…" She thought frantically, trying to find a holiday as an excuse. "Dolphin Day," she concluded lamely.
Brittany cocked her head to the side innocently. "Dolphin Day, San?"
Santana smirked. "Yeah. Dolphin Day. Where gay people buy each other presents."
Brittany beamed. "Wonder what Blaine got Kurty…" she wondered aloud, pulling her phone out to text the ladyfabulous countertenor.
Santana blushed scarlet. "Don't ask B, it'll be rude until Dolphin Day is over," she said hastily, taking the phone out of Britt's pale hands.
Brittany's smile grew wider. "Okay San."
Skipping towards the cash register, Santana watched her in awe.
She tore at the curtains, pulling them from the hangings. Stupid curtains, she thought bitterly as they lay in a heap around her floor. The window was now bare. Just like her heart.
"Santana Lopez please report to Ms. Pillsbury's office."
The nasally voice over the intercom had interrupted Santana's train of thought. She stood up, now annoyed at the stupid office secretary bitch, and pushed her chair in. Grabbing her books, she strutted down the hall, catching the eyes of all who had skipped, male or female. Her brown hair curled softly as she put her best bitch face on, swaying her hips just a little more than usual. Pushing the door open a crack, she peeked her head inside the immaculately neat office of Emma Pillsbury. "Ah yes, Santana, please, sit," the ginger woman said breathlessly, straightening her skirt as she took the chair behind the desk, motioning towards the one in front.
Santana didn't move from the doorway. "Look, Ms. P. As much as I enjoy skipping out on the quadratic formula, I really don't feel like smelling of hand sanitizer so can you just give me my new therapy schedule and then write me a pass I'll never use?"
Ms. Pillsbury's face shone with unease. As soon as Santana was about to make another biting remark, Schuester the Sweater Vest King entered. "Oh. Santana….we…we want to talk to you about Brittany."
Santana froze for a second, her face going from blank, to confusion, to fury. "Oh. So now you want to give us relationship counseling? Look. I know you think that sex should be sacred and shit. But Britts and I have our own system. And I'll be damned if you try to mess it up," she said vehemently, crossing her arms over her chest.
Mr. Schue looked perturbed. "No…it's not about your..." he cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with her previous outburst, "sexual relations. Brittany well…sit down Santana."
This time, she didn't retort. She took a seat next to Schuester, genuinely interested. "What about her?"
"Brittany and her parents were in a car accident this morning on the way to school," Mr. Schue said, eyes filling with tears.
"Wait. So you're saying she's in the hospital?" Santana asked, standing up while her heart was fluttering in fear.
Schuester swallowed what seemed to be a lump in his throat. Moving his butt-shaped jaw wordlessly, he finally spoke up. "No. Brittany…didn't make it. She died around third period."
Santana's body became numb. All her blood ran cold and her brain went on autopilot. She staggered back into the chair, thoughts overwhelming her mind. She was snapped out of her reverie by a soft sniffle. Turning to her right, she saw Ms. Pillsbury's sweater adorned arm handing Schue a box of Kleenex as he sobbed expectedly. Santana was pissed. Schuester thought he had the right to cry? What a fucking wuss. He hadn't known Britt like she did. He hadn't kept her warm when she forgot to wear her jacket in the middle of winter. He never sung her lullabies when she woke up from having nightmares. He never did jackshit. So he had no reason to cry. The numb feeling was replaced by inconceivable anger. She stood up harshly, knocking the chair backward. "Fuck you all," she muttered, striding out of the room.
Pacing down the hall quickly, noises became muffled as Brittany overrode her senses. Her smell. Her taste. Her face. It was all there. She couldn't get rid of Brittany if she tried. Unlocking her car, she headed for Lima Heights into her driveway, she won't remember walking up to her room. She just remembered Brittany.
She sold her car. It smelled like her. She knew it would fade. But she couldn't help but feel empty as she glanced to her right, expecting the blonde beauty to be there, giggling at something or another. She couldn't handle missing her.
The Glee club tried in vain. All of them were despondent over the loss of their resident sunshine. But none of them were like Santana.
"We have to do something for Santana," Rachel sniffed, clutching Finn's hand, tears staining the apples of her cheeks.
Kurt's soprano voice replied. "We all know she's a bitch and she's slushied all of us at least once. But ever since…" he gulped, tears welling up in his glasz eyes. "Since it happened. She's never been the same."
The rest of the club nodded noiselessly. The resident bitch had been silenced. They sang her songs. Serenaded her with friendship. But...to no avail. Santana started skipping Glee. First it was once a week. Then twice. Then she never showed up at all. She started skipping first hour. Then second. Then the first half of the day. Then one week, she just never came to school at all.
Sitting in her room, Santana closed her eyes. The walls were covered in her. Pictures from childhood to high school adorned the blue walls of her small room. Brittany's clothes scattered the floor, she never remembered to take them home. The sheets smelled like her. The sticky note on her mirror, written by her, remained stationary.
She was slipping away from humanity. Her father dragged her from doctor to doctor, trying to find a cure. Her life was slowly drained until she was merely a shell. Forgetting to eat, not leaving her room, she was no longer Santana.
You see. Santana and Brittany weren't just best friends. They were codependent. Never without one another. Their father's used to joke about them being "handcuffed by their pinkies."
Never have truer words been spoken.
Santana stared at the bottle. "Do not exceed four pills an hour."
Her breathing became shallow as her broken heart throbbed once more before dumping out the white capsules into her frail palm. Taking a large gulp of water, she swallowed them bitterly. Falling back onto her bed, she closed her eyes.
And then never opened them again.
Her mother found her curled up, cold and long gone. A post it note crumbled into her feeble hand.
"I love you Sanny, xoxo, Britty Boo."
New Directions sobbed for weeks.
A/N: I know, sad ending. But….feedback is wanted :D