Title: Beautiful Today
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Summary: 'She hates what she sees. She hates it all, because Quinn told her to.' Santana needs saving, but no one seems to notice. Brittana.

Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Deals with self harm and eating disorders throughout.

Authors Note: This chapter is much shorter, but is pretty important with regards to how the storyline develops. I'm not sure I like this one, but that could have something to do with the fact that I just proof-read it one last time, after doing the same with all of my English Language college work, and am very tired of words in general right now...regardless, it's here.
I said in the last chapter's A/N that updates will be constant, I shall change that to consistent and give the upload date of Saturday. They will sometimes be before then, but I will hopefully never fall behind.
Thanks again for reading and for all of the reviews. I didn't expect so many and am so grateful! I'm glad that you are enjoying the story, and I will try to find some time in the week to reply to each of you personally.

Anyway, enough of my crap. On with my fictional crap!

Contains self-harm and eating disorders. If either of these things are a trigger to you, please think before reading on.

CHAPTER 2
Don't know where to turn...

Santana didn't know how long they had stood there. She did know, however, that Brittany had not moved an inch. Her arms remained still and strong around her waist, she remained silent, and Santana's face remained buried in the crook of her neck. She had began to talk, her words coming out in muffled sounds that neither girl really understood. She had cried, cried more than she thought was even possible, and she could feel the moisture sinking into Brittany's T-shirt, spreading slowly. It seemed like forever before she finally stopped, before she found herself taking long breaths in an attempt to calm herself and her heaving chest. She felt dizzy as she pulled away, felt sick. That feeling just made her even dizzier.

She didn't look at Brittany, didn't meet her eyes. She felt them burning into her as she slowly stepped back, but she never looked up. The taller girl wordlessly brushed past her, entering the stall, re-emerging moments later with tissue paper in hand. She handed it to Santana, this time the latina meeting her with a thankful nod, and she smiled sympathetically.

Santana doesn't remember anything else being said, in fact she's pretty sure that they stand there in silence, until she has wiped her face clean and quickly splashed her cheeks with water. She had turned to Brittany, who nodded in approval, and they walked to class side by side.

"Where have you two been?" the teacher scolded sternly as they walked through the door.

For the first time since she could remember, and without even noticing herself, Santana had walked into the room without having her eyes focused on the ground. She even dared a glance to the back of the room, where she saw Quinn simply staring at her, before snapping her attention away. It felt like a physical blow, even without words being spoken, to see the girl scrutinising her like that. She turned to the teacher, swallowing hard as excuses escaped her. She glanced at the clock; fifteen minutes late. They had been in the bathroom for twenty minutes. She looked around at the other people in the class, noticing their attention slowly turn back to their work, before taking a step closer to Mrs Powell, who was still awaiting her answer. "...Girl problems," she whispered, receiving an understanding nod in reply. That excuse was never pressed or questioned further when it came to teenagers, and she knew it. What she didn't know then was just how much her ability to lie would be abused in her future.

They didn't even speak for the rest of the day, and Santana couldn't decide if she was glad of that fact. Once they had taken their seats in class again, she quickly glanced in Brittany's direction, seeing her looking back and flashing a thankful smile. It was returned, and that was that. When the lesson ended, Santana quickly pulled all of her belongings together, just like she did every day, and exited almost instantly. It was becoming routine. She always got out to dodge as soon as she could, knew where in their school she could go to be out of the way of Quinn and the others.

She left almost before the lesson even ended, much to Brittany distaste. She frowned as she watched the girl go, racing through the door. She had expected her to wait, at least offer her a thank you, somehow build on their new bond further than they already had. Their first conversation had already bulldozed all of the usual boundaries, those limitations that you are supposed to set, the time it is supposed to take before you can cry on your friends shoulder and let yourself fall apart in front of them. Brittany hadn't expected Santana to suddenly burst into tears, to collapse into her, but when the girl did then she knew what to do. Nothing. Nothing but be there, let her know that she wasn't alone.

She had tried to be quick when placing all of her belongings into her backpack and flinging it over her shoulder, but even when she ran into the hallway and looked both ways, she couldn't see her. She was gone.

A few painfully long hours later and school was finally over. Santana had found herself in the bathroom one more time that day, but somehow manage to resist what she wanted so desperately to do. She had waited for there to be silence, but it never came, so she scurried off to her final lesson of the day and took her seat. She didn't share this lesson with Quinn, but she still found a paper aeroplane hitting her and falling to her desk. She scrunched it up instantly, pretending that she hadn't read what was written.

Her mother had picked her up, taking a phone call through her Bluetooth headset from the moment she got into the car until they pulled up outside their house; even then she had managed to continue, swinging the front door open before heading straight for the office. She simply left Santana to close the door behind them, to occupy herself.

Santana had sat straight in front of the TV, as she always did, and quickly flicked through the channels until she found something decent. It could have only been five minutes before her mind wandered. She was hungry. She was hungry, and she knew that her mother would be unable to make her dinner tonight with the amount of work that lay on her desk. But she was hungry, so hungry. She told herself that she wasn't, that the rumbling of her stomach and the empty feeling that accompanied it was a good thing. She had control over this. She did. She tried to wipe Quinn's words from that day out of her mind, them repeating in a viscous circle, just like they did every night. She tried to wipe the message on the paper aeroplane from her memory, tried to pretend that the laughter didn't exist. But she was hungry. The television meant nothing any more, it was simply noise that was being overpowered by all of the words that were rapidly filling every inch of her mind. She was fat, this feeling was good. This empty feeling. She wouldn't give in to it.

But she was so hungry.

She snapped. She rose from the couch and out of the room in almost one movement, quickly opening the refrigerator and looking inside. It was full, everything neat and untouched. She lifted the leftover Chinese cartons that she saw the corner, pulling out four in total. She ate every one. She ate everything in every carton, so fast that it felt like she had eaten nothing. So she went back, her stomach screaming at her now. She pulled out anything she could find, starting with yoghurt, quickly finding chocolate and sandwich meat. Everything. It all tasted so good, and the ache in her stomach was gone, a feeling of ecstasy taking over her and making her heart race.

She placed a spoonful of yoghurt to her lips, her eyes that were forcefully closed finally opening and looking at the mess around her. She pushed the food into her mouth with a sob, taking in what she saw. There were empty wrappers everywhere, all from left over food or snacks that her mother had bought earlier that day. They were lying empty, empty because of Santana. She had eaten it all. Suddenly Quinn's voice was back, louder than ever. Her heart thudded as she slammed the yoghurt to the counter, a tear tracing her cheek as it quickly escaped her quivering face.

She had lost all control. Quinn had been right, they had all been right. She couldn't do this, she was fat. She was ugly. She would never be what Quinn was, she could neverbe what Quinn was. She had failed. She couldn't stop herself.

It was then that it hit her, harder than it had all day or had the night before. She remembered the only way to make this better, to make her feel better. She remembered the feeling. Before she could even process her thoughts, she was stood at the sink, her fingers rising to her mouth. She pushed them in, forcing them back as far as she could, a strange feeling of satisfaction coming over her when she saw the multitude of colours cascading onto the surface of the empty sink, each one belonging to the foods she had eaten just moments before. She did it again, not satisfied. She purged for a second time, this time removing her drenched fingers from her mouth. Her throat burned as the flow stopped. She dry heaved, her breaths frantic as she looked down into the mess she had made. She gripped the sink, light-headed, and focused on steadying herself.

She had done it. As she stared at the sight in front of her, a wave of pride overcame her body. It was gone, and she had made it go. She could do this. She had control again; not Quinn, not the girls voice that had forced her to the refrigerator in the first place. She straightened herself up, her head still spinning and breathing unsteady. She glanced down one last time before turning on the tap, watching it all disappear, being washed away. It was gone, and she had made it go.

She turned off the water once it had all disappeared, turning around and facing the mess of wrappers that she had left behind. She made her way over, robotically picking up each item and placing them into the rubbish bin that sat behind her. Everything was soon cleaned up, and with one last check of the sink, she made her way back into the lounge and lay down on the couch. Her head was spinning, no matter how much she tried to ignore it, and she quickly covered her face with her hands. She took long breaths, trying to get her head around what had happened, trying to get over the sudden rush that she felt. She knew that she shouldn't feel it, knew that what she had done was dangerous. She wasn't naive enough to believe that it was the normal method of losing weight; healthy diet and exercise, she had been told throughout her school years, was the 'only way to a healthy lifestyle'. But she needed to get rid of it, she needed to do it fast. This was the only way she knew.

She didn't eat for the rest of the day, and went to bed earlier than usual. She hoped her mother would notice, would visit her room at some point in the night to make sure she was okay. She didn't. This time Santana ignored the hungry growling of her stomach as she lay in the dark. She let it sooth her, let her know that she held all the cards. Quinn's voice was much quieter that night, she noticed.

And she didn't cry.