Mea Culpa : Certes.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, I do however own this story, I'm just borrowing the characters.
A/N: I am a night owl, and I barely sleep, so I'm looking to update this ff regularly. I am estimating it to be around the 20/22 chapters mark and as I get more in depth into the story the chapters will get longer. Out of curiosity, do any songs spring to mind when reading this? There is one song that I have been listening to on repeat whilst writing. So guess it!
As Santana walked up to the front door of the block of flats, her key clasped in hand she wondered if this would be her life forever.
She worked in a bar just on 18th Street, that had a sky lounge and you could look out across Philadelphia itself. Individually, the buildings were aged and withering away, but collectively with the lights twinkling from windows and cars passing by it looked almost beautiful en mass. It was like a patchwork of colour and size, a giant jigsaw that somehow was put together and fitted. The only part that Santana hated about travelling there was using the subway. Any kind of public transport made her uneasy, but she dealt with it; just like so many other things that she had dealt with in her life.
So would this be her life? She pondered; she kind of liked the isolation. It made a change from Quinn turning up at all hours, demanding to be let in and then cry on Santana's shoulder. Santana wasn't the best person to go to for comfort; she just didn't know how to deal with tears and hurt. Now none of them knew where she was. She was anonymous, faceless just another nobody on the streets of Philly.
As she walked up the stairs to the second floor, she played with her keys absentmindedly. It was only when she neared her door that she realised someone was standing outside her door.
She didn't need the girl to turn around to know who it was, from any angle she would always be able to tell who it was.
Brittany.
"Leave." Santana said it quietly, as Brittany turned around slowly.
"Santana please?" Her eyes pleaded with Santana's own, but it didn't work anymore. Santana had grown up and felt the harsh slap of reality.
"Leave here now and don't come back." Santana said it through her teeth, her jaw was visibly tensed. It made Brittany fear her.
Santana's key was pressed into her palm so tightly that the jagged edge began feeling like a hot knife, and she was sure it would leave an imprint. The veins on the back of her fist were slowly becoming visible, as the tendons sprung forth from her forearm. But Brittany made no attempts at movement.
"I'm not leaving without talking to you San, I need to te-"
"Move." That was all Santana said as she neared her door. Brittany moved to one side but still made no attempts to leave.
Santana pushed on by and slammed the door shut. She slid down to the floor, her fingers twisted into the loose curls of her hair, she began tugging at the strands furiously. She was frustrated and confused. Before she had been drifting, albeit numbly but that was better than this.
She felt like someone was pressing down on her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs and forcing out these raspy breaths.
"San?" She could hear Brittany's voice through the door. Her gentle tone reminded her of Lima, of a time and place that seemed like a hazy dream to Santana.
She didn't respond she just sat quietly in the hopes she would leave. After half an hour she got up to put more layers on. The only room she could afford to heat was her bedroom, not the whole apartment and now the lounge was freezing. Another half an hour went by as she stared blankly at the yellowed paper peeling away from the corners of the walls. Santana couldn't resist looking through the peephole. Brittany was still there.
In Santana's anger she hadn't even realised Brittany had brought a small suitcase with her. It was a crystal blue case, plain and was being sullied by the dirt on the floor as Brittany sat on top of it. She felt a pang of guilt but she quickly pushed that feeling away.
She was going to make Brittany wait out there until she would leave. She wouldn't show mercy on someone like her.
As she thought over everything that had happened, everything they had gone through, that she had gone through for Brittany, she smacked the door viciously with her palm.
"Brittany, I will never open this door to you. Just. Just- LEAVE NOW." Santana's frustrations got the better of her as she shouted.
She could see Brittany's shoulders tense then hunch further forward. She was curling in on herself and she looked as broken as Santana felt.
Furious at Brittany playing the victim Santana moved as far away from the door as possible, opting to sit by the window in the worn out recliner and watch as the snow fluttered down from the darkness.
How could something so delicate and pure fall from somewhere so vast and dark? She thought bitterly. She touched the glass tentatively; her fingertips stroked the cool surface gently as if she could capture a snowflake through this barrier.
A single tear slipped free, and soon after her eyes began to close.
Eventually she managed to fall asleep, her fingertips still reaching out for nothing.