Mea Culpa : Ad Perpetuam Memoriam
"To the perpetual memory"
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, I do however own this story, I'm just borrowing the characters.
A/N: From this point on I'm going to be dipping in and out of memories, that will hopefully give you a clue and build up to why Santana left so abruptly. If I'm not clear enough when it comes to highlighting what part is a memory and what part is happening now then let me know. All input be it negative or positive is greatly received.
Oh yeah and this ff might be a little longer than 20 chapters or it might be slightly less. I only put that as a rough guideline. P.s my first review I'm so excited you have no idea! Thank you Lanter :)
She opened the thick leather bound book, feeling the softness of the worn spine from when she had repeatedly looked at it in her youth.
The title page read "Santana and Brittany's book", with the date scribbled underneath as well as their ages. Both of them aged 14.
She traced the first photo reverently with her fingertips, lingering on the silhouettes of the both of them. The sun was setting in the background, a multitude of colours were interspersed in the sky. Beautiful and rich reds merged seamlessly with golden hues and pale oranges, it almost seemed like it was on fire, burning the pink tinted clouds at their edges. Santana could faintly make out her own silhouette, both of them leaning as if sharing a whispered secret meant for each other's ears only.
She remembers vividly when it was taken, a month after she had arrived. It immediately took her back to the first time she met her.
Santana had just moved to Lima and her parents felt the need to familiarise themselves with their neighbours. She stood at the Pierce's door, her arms folded petulantly across her chest and a scowl fixed upon her face. Her father rapped once. A tall, thin man with wavy blonde hair appeared. His features softened as her father extended his hand and introduced themselves as their new neighbours.
"Hon our new neighbours are here!" A slender woman with light brown hair and piercing blue eyes appeared then, quickly followed by two girls. One looked to be about Santana's age, the other couldn't have been any older than seven.
Santana grew increasingly impatient; she wanted this over and done with. The eldest daughter extended her hand towards Santana.
"Hi I'm Brittany what's your name?" She asked with a smile fixed in place.
Santana looked at the outstretched hand as if it personally offended her. She turned to her father then.
"Dad can we go please, I just want my laptop." Santana whined her father glared at her as Brittany withdrew the offering, casting her eyes down to the floor.
"Don't be so rude." Her father said, mouthing the word teenagers to Mr Pierce and rolling his eyes.
When she realised her parents weren't going to be moving from the doorway anytime soon she stomped down the path and sat on the curb, ripping blades of grass from the dirt.
"How old are you Santana?"
The unexpected voice made her jump slightly; she turned around and squinted up at Brittany, using her hand to cast a shadow so that she could see more clearly. The sun was blinding and so bright it made Brittany's hair almost look white.
"How do you know my name?" Santana replied haughtily, turning away.
"Your dad told me." With that she sat down on the lush, green grass next to her.
Santana's shoulders tensed as she tried subtly to move away. She cast a furtive glance over to Brittany who just seemed to be staring at the road intently.
"So where do you go to school?" Santana's voice was shaky; she didn't really like to make small talk. She was never in one place long enough to talk to anyone anyway.
"McKinley High School, is that where you're going?" Brittany's tone of voice seemed to instantly perk up and seemed to be eagerly awaiting her answer.
"Yeah I'm going there too." Santana felt extremely uncomfortable, she just wanted this to be over already, she could feel herself squirming under the scrutiny of the other's blue eyed gaze.
Brittany's face showed a series of expressions in quick succession, as if reflecting what was going through her mind. Santana could feel her own face scrunching up as she tried to decode what Brittany was thinking. She quickly shook her head of these thoughts as her father's voice pierced the silence.
"San come on we've got to go, we're gonna get take out tonight."
Santana stood up abruptly, brushing her jeans quickly lest any grass be clinging to her. As she started to walk away she hesitated a moment and turned back around.
"I'm 14 by the way."
Brittany looked up and smiled, she turned back around, crossed her legs and continued to pull tufts of grass from the ground. Santana continued to walk away, a small smile playing on her lips.
Santana didn't see her neighbour for a week after that first interaction, she felt afflicted looking at that photo. She remembers feeling indifferent towards Brittany, she didn't like nor dislike her she was just simply there. They had always been complete opposites, Brittany did things that made herself content, she was open and honest. Santana however was closed and coiled so tightly that no one ever had a hope of getting closer to her.
As she flipped to the next page there was a photo of Brittany lying on a sun lounger in a vest top and shorts, her sunglasses pinning her fringe back out of her face and a huge smile in place. She was doing a peace sign with one hand and holding a soda in the other. She looked so carefree and unconcerned. Brittany's hand writing was scrawled around the edges of the page. "Best friends forever" and "I heart summer" plagued Santana. She then turned to look at the facing page.
Her own pose was her sitting on another lounger; her head tilted back letting her hair fall in loose curls around her shoulders, her sunglasses fixed in place over her eyes facing away from the camera. Santana looked so much older than 14, so much more serious than her counterpart that it was frightening. It was as if, even at that age she was carrying a heavy burden upon her shoulders. Brittany had also written on that page, tiny hearts filling the space accompanied by "BFF" and "I heart my bestie."
A tear slipped free and blotted the page, smudging the ink slightly. Santana closed the book throwing it onto the coffee table and paced around her apartment, feeling such a vast explosion of convoluted emotions that she could barely make sense of them all. It still felt so fresh and raw in her mind. Remembering her final night in Lima, Santana was slinging anything and everything into bags, sneaking out swathed in darkness and moonlight as she took to the streets to make her escape. She didn't cry that night, she looked at everything stony faced and detached waiting for the right time to say goodbye.
She was waiting for her moment.
Santana began to cry harder, her chest constricted and closed making the sounds wrenching from her lungs even more desperate and garbled. She could barely breathe and the exertion caused her stomach to twist and knot forcing her to run to the bathroom to heave.
Afterwards her limbs felt weak and heavy, she stumbled to her bedroom and curled up into a ball in the middle of the bed. She couldn't cry anymore, but her face was still distorted with pain as her hands fisted the sheets, grasping tighter and tighter until her knuckles were pale. She turned her face partially into the mattress, trying to fight tears that weren't coming, really, she was trying to fight off the feeling completely.
She was a masochist, she knew she shouldn't have looked at their book, and seeing Brittany in the flesh the night before albeit briefly and with very few words spoken – it led to Santana's careful construct falling so quickly. Seeing Brittany brought it all crumbling right down, stripped back to its foundations, leaving her open and vulnerable to an abundance of emotions that she thought she had successfully lain to rest. But one glimpse of Brittany elicited every nerve ending in her body to come alive once more and churn up her mind almost to the point of being irreparable.
She closed her eyes and wished for sleep. But she knew it wouldn't be granted. Not tonight at least. She wrapped herself up in her duvet and watched the world roll on just beyond her window.