Chapter Twenty Five: The One With The Love.

XXV: Set my midnight sorrow free, I will give you all of me. Just leave your lover... leave him for me.

Twisting and turning rapidly, Brittany listens to the sound of her own breathing as she dances to music only she can hear. Elaborately spinning across the stage, she freezes, before relaxing back into position. Dancing has been the only thing that has ever made her feel truly comfortable. Dancing has been the only thing she was ever good at. The only thing that ever made her feel worthy.

Well. Except for Santana. Brittany doesn't like to dwell on the other woman, it makes her sad. It brings forth a rush of emotions that she isn't accustomed to, having lived in a land of rainbows her whole life. Brittany lives in a land of rainbows by choice. She had long learned that there is no point in holding onto bitter words, to cruel jests and broken promises.

In some ways, Santana is the biggest broken promise of all. Brittany had trusted her, perhaps more than anyone else, and it had ended as tragically as she had dreamed in her darkest of nightmares. The only way it could have been worse was if Santana had left the coffee shop and walked into some oncoming traffic.

She regrets in many ways how she rejected Santana. Brittany maintains it was the right thing to do. Who wants their engagement story to be one of petty jealousy in a coffee shop? While Artie had sparked her interest, it was in no sense a romantic interest. Regardless, she and Santana could have moved on. They could have apologised and continued to have wonderful, intimate sessions in Brittany's room, giggling at the thought of being caught. Yes, Santana giggles around her.

It's magic when the soft voice reaches out to her, "Hey, your moves are great." It's fate, Brittany is already thinking. She had been daydreaming about this woman and then she appeared.

Brittany blinks, "Um, thanks. We're hoping for big audiences."

The Latina nods, walking up through the seats towards the stage. She cranes her neck to catch Brittay's gaze, "I'm so sorry."

This is unexpected. Other girls would scoff at this, wonder how Santana could imagine it would be enough, argue and fight. Brittany only feels comforted, a light feeling in her chest that she hasn't experienced in weeks making an appearance, "You are?" She's hesitant, feeling like a child in her insecurity.

Santana begins to climb the steps to the stage, sparing a glance out at the tiered seating, "More than you can imagine. I lost the best thing that's ever happened to me. Us. You. God, I—I love you so much, Brit, and I fucked everything up so—so—"

Before she can say anything else, Brittany has crossed the stage. Quick as a flash, her hands are on Santana's face, soft and gentle, and her lips press against hers with the same softness. It's chaste and over quickly, but both their hearts are racing afterwards. "I love you, Santana. I just want to be with you, with no secrets or lies."

Santana smiles, one of those rare genuine smiles she reserves for Brittany, and squeezes her hand. Truth be told, she's still reeling from the simple kiss from the blonde. She can't get enough of her. "Let's be that. Let's be unashamedly us."

Fearing to even believe it, Brittany's eyebrows raise, "Really? You mean it?" She beams. At Santana's nod and laugh, she throws her arms around her and pulls her close.

"I love you, Santana."

The words almost make the woman cry, but she's far too good at controlling herself to let that happen, "What am I going to do when you leave?" The question is meant to be strong, commanding, even nonchalant. It comes out weak, hoarse and as a whisper.

Brittany looks at her as if she was being ridiculous, "Come with me." She shakes her head, "And people say I'm stupid."

Although a flash of anger runs through her at the sound of someone calling Brittany stupid, she lets it pass. Santana frowns, "What about my job?"

"You hate your job." Brittany responds honestly, leaving Santana to wonder when she really did become the wiser of the two. "Please, leave all of this behind, let's start again. Let's start our own adventure."

He doesn't know how he expected it to go. He was too late, too rash, too stupid. As always, Puck made the right move at the wrong time. His timing had never been good. When they were fifteen and he told her they should have sex. When they were sixteen and he swore he loved her. When they were seventeen and he proved how incapable he was of showing that.

When they were twenty-two when he swore that, this time, he wouldn't mess up. A few months later, and he had tripped up.

How could he expect a woman like that to wait around on someone like him? A college dropout, a bartender, dirt poor and too stupid to realise when something great is in front of him. He swishes the whiskey around in his glass, having not drank any of it yet.

The look on her face when he told her he loved her was not what he had been expecting. Puck had been expecting, worst case scenario, a screaming Quinn telling him to get out.

The unemotional, detached Quinn is so much worse. She's apathetic to him. She doesn't care about his love, his friendship, his bravery. Puck runs a hand over his eyes, exhausted, when there's a knock on the door. Irritated that his drunken friends can never remember to bring their keys, Puck makes his way to the door sluggishly.

He opens the door and turns back, not bothering to say hello.

"You, are the biggest asshole I have ever met."

At her voice, a whooshing sensation moves through his chest and he whips around, "Quinn?" His throat is suddenly dry.

She appears angry, at least, crossing the kitchen to stand in front of him. Frowning, gesturing wildly with her hands, she continues, "To have the audacity to interrupt me on the eve of my wedding, making declarations and gestures the night before I commit myself to someone else for life."

Quinn looks at him, and swipes a piece of stray hair from her vision, "That's the moment you choose to pick? I shouldn't be surprised that you chose that moment of all to be right about something, but I guess I should be just glad you can surprise me."

His brain can't keep up, and his heart can't believe what he thinks she's saying. Clearing his throat, he replies quickly, "W—what?"

She smiles then, her perfect dimples greeting him, and throws her hands up into the air, as if she were helpless to do so, "I love you, Noah. Damned if I try to escape it, hide from it, deny it… You're always there, you'll always be there and—and I want you to be."

He grabs her hands then, holding them tightly as if she'll disappear, "I promise, Quinn, this time I'm not making any mistakes. I was insane letting you go before and I'm not going to do that again. I'm not."

Quinn nods, and is embarrassed to find tears in her eyes. Reaching up, Puck uses his thumb to brush away some that fall, "Are you okay?"

Flushing, she still grins, "Just kiss me, Puckerman."

"Who am I to deny your demands?"

A/N: Woo. About time, amirite?

Let me know what you think. Last chapter coming soon. You can pretty much consider it finished now, there's only an epilogue left.

Again, I don't own Glee, Friends or "Leave Your Lover" by Sam Smith.

Cheers,
CN.