Thanks for the reviews. Sorry for the delay, this chapter was difficult to write. But I have the next one already mapped out. Enjoy.
Chapter 7 – Don't Speak
Two weeks went by without a single conversation between her and I. Fourteen days without those angelic, blue eyes. 336 hours without the feel of her skin against mine. For the first few days I had been avoiding her, but now it was painfully obvious that she was not making any effort either.
It was a lot harder than I imagined it would be, the thought of losing her. I was angry. I was angry that she had woven herself so intricately into my life that it was near impossible for me to do anything without thinking of her. I was angry that she couldn't see how badly I was hurting and just forgive me. But mostly I was angry with myself. For who I am. For what I've done. For everything.
That feeling in the pit of my stomach began to rise. It had been days since the last time, and now it bubbled wildly within. I started to shake violently as unknowing tears began to seep from my almond eyes. I wanted this all to stop. I wanted everything to just stop. Quinn was a fucking liar when she told me I was strong. Because all of this is getting to be way too much for me to handle.
My reflection was calling me, screaming at me to release the emotions swirling inside. I refused. I fought. I ran.
Grabbing my keys as I swiftly exited my room, I make it out to my car and out of the driveway before I even realize I don't have a destination in mind. By this point I'm crying hysterically, and I fucking hate myself even more. I don't think. I just drive.
It's dark before I notice where I've ended up. My autopilot has directed me toward the one place I knew I would be safe. My broken and weak limbs carry me to the front porch as I'm barely able to lift my hand to knock on the door. I hear muffled voices beyond the wooden frame and it almost makes me turn around and leave. I hear the doorknob shuffle beneath the weight of someone's hand, and I suck in an involuntary breath before the light and warmth of the home cascades me.
"Santana?" She questions while taking a brief glance toward the living room. "Is everything okay?" I don't know whether this is brought on due to my tear stained cheeks or her knowledge of the situation. I don't know how much she's been told.
I remain in silence, unsure of what exactly I should say. Truth was I didn't know why I was here. But I didn't know where else to go either. She sees my uncertainty and motions me forward. I smile slightly to show my gratitude as my feet hesitantly step through the threshold. Her hand presses softly against my back, comforting me, guiding me toward the kitchen and away from the loudness of the living room.
"Who is it mom?" her voice beckons from the top of the stairs. I shiver. The older woman notices.
"Brit can you come to the kitchen?"
I hear her soft steps against the carpeted stairs as she skips down, oblivious to what awaits her. She's whistling, and she's so fucking happy that I inwardly curse myself for showing up out of the blue. My back is facing the entrance, but I know she sees me because her sweet melody has stopped. Her mom gives a tiny nod before exiting the room, and after seconds of silence, I lose control. I literally break down in the middle of their fucking kitchen, falling into a pathetic pile of shaking and sobbing on the tiled floor.
She doesn't come to me immediately. I know I'm being selfish. I haven't talked to her in two weeks, and then I show up in the middle of the night and cry in her kitchen. Who would know what to do? I'm actually just thankful she hasn't kicked me out yet.
"San…I…" her stuttering informs me she has no fucking clue what to do.
Instead of answering, I cry harder.
Her hands are at my shoulders, but instead of wrapping me in her arms, she's yanking me upward. She nudges me forward and toward the stairs, and I realize that I must be too loud for the rest of her family.
I'm sitting on her bed before I even realize we've climbed stairs. Her hands instantly leave my side once I'm stable, and I immediately miss her touch. She waits patiently at her desk, staring at her fingernails, as my sobs slowly turn to hiccups.
"I'm sorry," I mumble softly. It's not near enough, but it's a start. She nods, her focus still on her fingers. I sigh in order to compose myself. My hands are shaking, but I fold them in my lap to keep them from distracting me. They display every ounce of fear that refuses to be pushed aside, and I'm confident that if I continue to notice them, I will back down from what I'm about to do and run home.
"Brittany, I…you…" I struggle to find the words I need. I glance toward her and realize that her gaze is fixed on me now. Those icy, sapphire eyes pierce mine with a passion that lets me know she'll wait for me to finish.
"You mean more to me than anything else in this messed up world. And that scares the shit out of me because of how much control you have over my feelings." I let out a ragged breath as another tear manages to wriggle free. "I'm a bitch. And I'm okay with that. It's easy to be a bitch. But with you…you make me want to be something else. Something better."
She nods again, but this time I can see her eyes have glossed over, and I realize I'm beginning to crack holes in the walls of hurt and anger she's created to protect herself. I have to look away to gather the strength to continue. "I don't take back saying the things I said the other night," I pause, swallowing the lump that managed to rise in my throat, "but I regret the way I said them."
I have to touch her. I need her support. Frantically yet slowly, I rise to my feet and make my way over to her. My hands hesitantly search for hers, grasp them softly, and cradle them between us. She's reluctant to look at me, so we both stare at our clasped hands instead.
"I'm scared to let you in because I'm scared of what you'll think of me. You have this warped view of who I am. You see me differently than everyone else. And I'm so scared that I'm gonna ruin that." I hiccupped back a sob, the noise finally forcing her to meet my gaze. I smiled weakly, her grip on my hands tightened.
"Santana, there is nothing you could ever say or do that could taint the way I view you. Please believe that. You are absolutely perfect to me." Another noise escaped past my lips, something between a sob and a huff.
I try to pull away, but she grips tighter. She won't let me walk away this time. She won't let me back down and retreat back into myself. I sigh, heavily. "Everyone thinks I created the reputation I have. That I actually wanted all of this." My hiccups begin to disappear as my tears flow freely. "But in reality, I didn't want any of this. This popularity. This pressure to succeed at everything. Being a bitch just made it easier to get through the day as a person I didn't want to be in the first place."
A tear falls from my chin and lands on our woven hands below. "Do you remember how you went on vacation when Quinn and I went to that rager freshman year?" She nods. I inhale. "Well that was the night my world changed. That was the night I became the girl who slept around."
"I don't understand," she whispers. "I already know you're reputation with guys. That doesn't change how I feel about you." I shake my head repeatedly, trying to make her understand through my actions so I wouldn't have to continue. She unclasps our hands and immediately places them on either side of my face. "San, it's okay. Shh. Talk to me. Explain." Her words are ragged and I can tell she's crying without looking at her.
"I didn't ask for this," I mumble through sobs. I want to tell her, I honestly do. But the thoughts alone of that night, as they creep into the front of my mind, cause me to begin to shake violently again, and all of a sudden I'm unable to communicate properly. My chest begins to tighten and I feel like all the air in my lungs is escaping at a rapid pace. Her arms are around me and pulling me into the warmest embrace within seconds, one hand at the small of my back, the other delicately wrapped in my hair.
"I'm sorry," I mumble against her shoulder. "Can that just be enough for now?"
She nods and pulls me closer. She's a better person than I can ever imagine being. Her kindness and love is undeserving, but I'm oh so grateful. I wrap my arms around her waist and fully allow myself to let go. Even if I can't verbally tell her, I can physically show her the raw emotions that I feel, the emotions birthed from the memories that plague me.
She waits patiently for my hysterics to turn to sobs, and then eventually to hiccups. I'm drained and completely exhausted. Sensing this, she untangles our bodies and leads me to her bed, forcing me to sit on the edge. Leaning down in front of me, her hands delicately untie the laces of my boots and slip them off my feet. I'm blown away by the immense care she takes in helping me.
Once each shoe is removed, she walks to her dresser and pulls out an oversized shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. Without realizing it, her hands are once again on my shoulders, guiding me back into a standing position. Her fingers are hesitant at first, her touch very soft against the skin at my waist. She pulls the zipper of my skirt down, and gently slides the material down my thighs and over my knees. She picks each foot up separately to finish its removal, then repeats the motion to pull the shorts up in its place.
We don't speak. She knows if she says anything I'll realize my state of vulnerability and retreat away from her. Tugging slightly at the hem of my tank top, I outstretch my arms above me to allow her to pull the top over my head. She glances at me in a brief moment of desire, but the look fades immediately, replaced with her need to take care of me. Once the shirt is draped over my torso, she reaches underneath to my back and unclasps my bra, gently guiding the straps over my arms, and discarding it to the floor with the rest of my clothes.
She pulls back the covers and guides me to the side. As I climb in, she quickly changes her own clothes before turning off the light and joining me under the duvet. She places herself behind me, fusing the front of her with the back of me effortlessly. Her arms cocoon me, her cheek pressed tightly to mine, and for the first time in days I'm able to fall asleep instantly.
xxxxx
I'm awoken with the faint smell of coffee wafting through the room. She's by my side instantly upon hearing me stir to consciousness. "Morning," she smiles, sheepishly tucking a stray bang behind my ear.
"Morning," I mumble sleepily. She stares at me unwaveringly, and I begin to grow uneasy. "What? Do I have like major bed hair or something?" I question as I reach to the top of my head.
"No," she answers softly, shaking her head. She pauses for a moment, and that's when I realize she's nervous about something.
"Hey," I say, bringing my hand to hers in order to force her to look at me. "What's wrong?"
When her eyes finally meet mine, a small tear leaks it's way down her left cheek. "You're not gonna be happy with me," she says hesitantly. I look at her with confusion and worry. "But I've come to the conclusion that if you won't help you, then it's my job to help you," she rambles.
"Brit, what exactly does that mean?" I question nervously.
She looks away from me as she answers. "Get dressed and come down to the kitchen." And before I can argue or question further, she's out of the room, a ghostly cool in the space she just vacated next to me.
I lay there in frozen mortification for a while. Brittany never acts mysterious in the sense when it comes to surprises. And what the fuck did she mean by she was going to help me? The scent of coffee still lingers in the room, and I finally decide that I'm in desperate need of some caffeine in order to deal with Brittany's unexplained behavior. Whatever was waiting for me downstairs could wait until after I had a large mug of hazelnut coffee.
Instead of putting my clothes back on from the previous night, I slip my bra on underneath her oversized t-shit and make my way downstairs in my pajamas, well Brittany's pajamas. As I turn the corner to enter the kitchen, I notice another woman sitting at the kitchen table. She looked to be in her mid-50s, blonde-gray hair pulled back in a meticulous ponytail, and her smile was unnerving as she looked at me.
"Sorry, I didn't realize you guys had company," I stuttered, embarrassed by my choice of an outfit, or lack there of. As I turned to retreat back upstairs to change, the woman began to speak.
"Actually Santana, I'm here to see you." Her voice was soft, kind, but definitely unwanted. I froze in mid-turn, my heart all of a sudden beating beyond its normal requirement. I forced myself to remain calm as I turned back around, my eyes shifting rapidly from this woman to Brittany and back again. The way her top lip thinned as she maintained her inhumane smile began to annoy the shit out of me. I looked to Brittany again for an answer, but she remained silent, her eyes fixed to the floor.
"Santana, my name is Ms. Hetrick, and I work for the crisis center." Her words were jumbled as they made their way to my ears. Crisis Center? What the fuck is going on? Again I looked to Brittany, this time her eyes stared back, but she continued to remain still as I silently begged her for this not to be true.
"I have been called here today to talk to you about what has been going on in your life lately. Would you care to go to a room more private so we can talk in more detail?" I deadpanned and refused to show her any type of emotion. Sensing this she continued, "I can promise you Santana that I'm only here to help you, and whatever you tell me is kept strictly between you and I?"
"I don't understand…who…who called you?" I frantically searched her eyes and when they couldn't answer me, I looked back to Brittany, the evidence clearly written all over her crystal blues.
"Brit, you didn't?" I pleaded, my voice betraying me by breaking with every syllable. Her eyes immediately went to the floor.
"Ms. Pierce is very concerned…" the woman began again, but I had had enough. I turned back to her, anger fuming from every feature on my face.
"Listen here female version of Dr. Phi. You don't know me, you don't know Brittany, therefore you have no clue how her or I feel, about anything for that matter. So why don't you take your pamphlets and your psycho-bullshit and leave us alone." I seethed, forcing my hands to grasp each other in order to prevent myself from shaking.
"Ms. Lopez, if you would just…"
I turned back toward Brittany, completely ignoring the troll that couldn't get a clue. "I can't believe you would do this. I don't need help Brittany. It's called growing up. Maybe you should try it sometime." Again I lashed out at her, hitting her with all the anger I felt for myself. It wasn't fair, but for some reason I couldn't stop the words from coming out. Before I could allow them to see me break, I turned and stomped toward the door, not giving two shits that I was still wearing her clothes. I barely heard the woman telling her that I didn't mean what I said because I was hurting inside before I loudly slammed the door.
xxxxx
As I shut my locker for first period, Quinn's faced was magically waiting on the other side. "Jesus Q, lurk much?" I huffed, turning to walk away. I knew why she was here, and I was honestly in no mood to have another heart to heart with her.
She of course was not about to let me exit in peace. "Is that what you call talking to her?" Her voice was loud, forcing me to turn back toward her to prevent other people from hearing our conversation. I knew that was her intent in the first place, and I silently hated myself for giving in to her so quickly.
"I did talk to her. Well kind of. Then she…well let's just say she threw a curve ball at me."
"I know what she did. And honestly, it was the bravest thing she's ever done." My eyebrows immediately scrunched together. Did she honestly tell Quinn about…about what was going on?
"You don't know shit Fabray," I opted on playing the ignorance card, hoping I could some how get out of this conversation before I literally had to excuse myself to the bathroom to release my pain.
"Maybe I don't know what's actually going on, but I do know she cares about you. A lot. Cares so much in fact, that she's worried to the point that she would ask someone to help. Brittany knows you. She knows you're a strong person. She would never ask someone to help you unless she really thought it was necessary. I may not know whom she asked or what she's so worried about, but S I can tell something's going on. I'm not an idiot. And if it has something to do with Alex and…"
"Shut up!" I yelled, feeling my eyes mist over instantly. "Just stop!" I screamed, causing many heads to turn toward us. Quinn froze in horror. Before she could say another word I was vacating the hallway, retreating to the girl's bathroom on the second floor.
The thought of skipping school, and more specifically glee, was very tempting, but I knew my father had off on Wednesdays. Wiping my tear stained cheeks, I applied a fresh coat of cover-up before heading back out.
I avoided as many people as I could. I made sure to get to my classes as soon as the bell rang so no one would have time to talk to me. I didn't each lunch. It was actually pretty easy. Until glee club. I sighed, taking a deep breath, before heading into the room. Taking a seat in the back, making sure to look busy or uninterested in anything anyone had to offer. I noticed Brittany and Quinn walk in together, and my stomach automatically plummeted. I avoided eye contact, forcing my face to look emotionless as Mr. Schue began.
However, before he could even start with what ever monologue he had prepared about his sucky life and how happy he was to be teaching or whatever, Brittany's hand rose in the air. "Yes Brittany?"
"Mr. Schue, may I?" she questioned, pointing to the front of the room. He looked confused, as did everyone else, before he nodded and moved to sit down. I noticed Quinn give her an encouraging squeeze on her shoulder, and my heart instantly broke. This wasn't gonna be good at all. "I've prepared a song I'd like to share." She paused, her hands fidgeting nervously in front of her as her eyes skirted over the classroom.
The music began, and her eyes finally landed on me, every ounce of sadness evident with just one look from her. As the notes reached my ear, I had to turn away.
You and me
We used to be together
Everyday together, always.
I could feel her eyes upon me, but I refused to meet them.
I really feel
That I'm losing my best friend
I can't believe this could be, the end.
Her voice broke a little, and I knew she was trying hard to hold back sobs.
Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me cause it hurts.
My eyes stayed focused on my lap, my attention upon my hands as if they had something important written on them. I didn't have to look up to know that more of them were beginning to look at me.
Our memories
Well, they can be inviting
But some are altogether, mighty frightening.
In my peripheral I could see her moving, and I was just praying to whoever was listening that she wasn't gonna come up to me.
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me cause it hurts.
When I quickly looked up to see where she was, I immediately wished I hadn't. Her eyes were laced with tears, threatening to spill at any moment. They pierced mine, forcing me to continue to look at her as she continued.
It's all ending
I gotta stop pretending, who we are.
You and me
I can see us dying, are we?
Her voice cracked, choking on the words as her tears were finally freed.
Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me cause it hurts
No, no, no
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me cause it hurts.
The song faded as her cries softly echoed through the room. Everyone's faces were bent toward their own laps, unconsciously aware that this moment wasn't about them and they didn't know how to deal with the fact that they just witnessed it. She looked at me, heart broken, waiting for an answer. For an approval that everything was okay. That everything was going to be okay.
A single tear crawled down my cheek. "I..I can't. I'm sorry." I whispered before standing, grabbing my things, and running from the claustrophobic room. It was the third time I had fled from her in two weeks. And I was pretty sure she wasn't going to be giving me the chance for a fourth. The look in her eyes screamed with every ounce of her heart that was still in tact. And as my footsteps filtered from the room, I knew that there wouldn't be pieces left for another chance.