Hey my lovely readers :)! I had the most WONDERFUL review yesterday from newdirections! Thank you so much you lovely person, your review was so beautiful :D! Because of your lovely review, and your query about Brittany and Santana - here it is! This is Santana and Brittany's reactions to the fire, so enjoy! Thank you to all my reviewers and readers once more! xx

and i'm starting to remember things that you said...

Brittany didn't really get what was going on. She understood that a fire had happened… and stuff… and people had like, died, and stuff… but dying was a good thing right? Sure, people on earth missed the people in heaven, but the dead people are in a land where there's unlimited cookies and rainbows and they can like, ride on unicorns and stuff. When Brittany had tried to get in touch with Santana, she was really upset and had really big black bags under her eyes. Brittany didn't get it – sure, she missed Matt loads too, and she'd maybe cried once into the teddy her grandma had gotten her, but Matt was in a happy place now and it was really… mean to want him back. And even though Brittany sometimes defaced Yearbooks and things, she didn't like being mean. Defacing Yearbooks is funny, right? It makes people giggle, and stuff.

Brittany's mom took her shopping for a dress for Matt's funeral the other day. She had like, a massive argument with her over the colour of the dress.

"Sweetie, dresses at funerals are normally black!" her mom had exclaimed.

"Yes, but like, Matt totally wouldn't want me to wear black. He'd be all 'Baby, you wear whatever colour you like'! And cause Matt reminds me of heaven which is like, rainbows and yellow and stuff, I want a really, pretty colourful dress!" Brittany had argued.

"Darling, this funeral is going to be massive. You cannot stand out, you'd ruin the atmosphere and sincerity of the service!" Her mom rolled her eyes, looking through the shelves for black dressed. Brittany stood there, looking confused until her eyes gazed across the store to a perfect dress. It was yellow, with a bow pinned onto the right sleeve. The bow had little rainbows on it, and she grinned, knowing the dress had Matt written all over it. She skipped over to the dress, wishing San was here to give her approval. Her mom followed her, and on seeing the dress Brittany held up, glared.

"Brittany, have you just ignored all I just said! B-L-A-C-K Brittany! That's the colour dress I'm buying you!" her mom huffed and turned away.

Brittany's face fell, then she tapped her mom's shoulder and began to speak.

"Listen, mom, I know it's like, traditionally or something to wear black at funerals, but isn't a funeral totally a way of remembering all the laughter that person brought into you're life? I don't get why people cry! They should be smiling at all the love they had. This dress reminds me of it and I can't get a black one, because Matt wouldn't be happy with me and would shoot lightening down from heaven or something. I want Matt to be happy when he looks at me with his telescope and this dress will make him smile up there and not feel so lonely. Matt even told me once his favourite colour was yellow! So, mom, please can I get this dress?" Brittany smiled at her mom.

Much to her surprise, her mom's eyes watered and she enveloped Brittany into a hug.

"Course baby!"

Brittany didn't question her mom's change of heart. She just grabbed the dress, then skipped to the counter, thinking of how proud Matt was gonna be of her.

Santana couldn't bring herself to get out of bed. To hell with the diet, she thought, stuffing chocolate down her throat and blowing her nose loudly into a tissue. Ever since she'd found out about Matt, the boy she was sort of trying to get with, she couldn't help but stay in bed, curled up watching soppy love DVD's. She'd crawled out of bed once, when Brittany was at the door. Brittany was her best friend and sometimes her fuck buddy, and the only comfort in her sad, sorry life before the disaster. Now it was after it, she found herself repulsed by the girl's stupidity and it surprised her. She'd always loved Brittany more then anybody else in the world, and now she couldn't stand to be near her. It'll pass… she'd thought, and moved on.

Her dad popped into her room several times a day. She was definitely daddy's little girl, and she knew it was killing him seeing her like this, but it was a seeming impossible task to get out of her room. He'd sneak her chocolate, teddy bears and new DVD's to try and cheer her up, but nothing was working

If she was being honest with herself, she didn't think she'd be this bothered this at first. Sure, she was gutted when she discovered the death of Matt, but she'd survived the first day pretty well. When she woke up on the second day, it was like her heart had been ripped out of her chest, stood on and smeared across the wall, then put back in again only to have it done all over again. It hurt – oh god, it hurt.

Matt's funeral was in six days – exactly two weeks after the fire. She didn't know if she could go, if she could face the thought of seeing his beautiful body in a stuffy box – a place he didn't deserve to be. But of course, Santana knew that if she didn't go, she'd never forgive herself and Matt would be disappointed. So, instead of mulling over her heartbreak and loss and forgetting by watching DVD's, Santana finally decided by her sixth consecutive day in bed, she would be letting Matt down. So she got up.

Her dad seemed shocked to see her at the breakfast table, but she held herself together as if it was pre-fire. She said good morning, grabbed a bowl of cereal, kissed him on the cheek and headed back up to her room with the bowl. Then she got dressed, her hair in its traditional high ponytail. Putting the final touches to her make-up, she grabbed her cell and rang Brittany.

"Hey babe!" She smiled into the phone. She'd missed her best friend.

"Hey Sanny!" Brittany replied in a sing-song voice. Santana hated the nickname, but she loved Brittany too much to argue.

"What we doing for Matt's funeral, Brit?" She expected there to be a silence, an awkward pause or a necessary explanation of a funeral. There wasn't one.

"A song of course silly. I bet Mike's doing like, a dance or something, so we could totally get the gleeks to like sing something. Wasn't Matt's favourite song something by Kiss… or maybe Journey… or like, a hip-hop artist… or a metal band?" Brittany sounded confused.

"No worries. I'll sort it babe. Coming shopping in ten? I know you have a dress for the funeral, but I need one!"

"Sure, I'll meet you by that nice café in like, 10 minutes…"

"Okay, Brit. Love ya!"

"Love you too Sanny!"

Santana ended the call, then put her head against the cool mirror. The pain in her heart was still there, but she knew it would fade slightly in time.

Mike had woken up on the eighth day since the fire with a determined plan in his mind. He went on the laptop, downloaded the piece of music he wanted and began to listen to it. Mike liked listening to songs on repeat until he really understood it. Then, he could feel the music as he danced to it. After the tenth replay, he stood up and put his iPod on his dock. He went into his mom and dad's room and dragged the mirror out of it and into his. He placed it on the door, and he stared at himself for a long while. It was the first time he'd seen himself in days, and he didn't look at all well. He'd lost weight, his hair was greasy, his eyes were hollow and his clothes shabby.

Turning away from the mirror, he booted the wall: hard. A huge crack crawled up his wall, and his toes ached in pain. Blinking back tears that were threatening to form, he walked over to his iPod dock as if nothing had happened. He pressed the play button and began to dance, releasing all the pent up emotion that had formed over the last few days. His movements were swift, yet drawn out, and by the end of the song he was breathing heavily and was exhausted. He collapsed onto his bed, panting hard.

When he had regained a regular breathing pattern, he listened to the music once more and began to choreograph the perfect dance. After a few hours, he knew he'd gotten it to perfection and he smiled for the first time for what felt like years, the unused muscles in his face almost aching from the unusual movement.

Mike was still smiling when he turned to the mirror. His face dropped in horror, smiles gone and without thinking, he grabbed the baseball bat beside his bed and swung it at the mirror. It cracked into a million pieces on the floor and he breathed heavily, not regretting it at all. He kicked the pieces to the side of his door, promising to pick them up later and then ran back to his bed, diving under the duvet and placing his head under a pillow.

Smiling was only for the happy.

Thank you for reading :D! Please review? :) x