Berkeley really isn't big. You found yourself in front of Zellerbach Playhouse again, and you don't even keep track of how much time you've spent there in the last two weeks. You don't know why you're still doing it.

Of course you know, but the point is denying it, right?

You sit in front of the benches by the stairs with your coffee and notebook, trying to read anything that may help you with the week's case. You can't really focus as you hear steps and doors opening and closing all the time, but you can't just throw your duties away.

Suddenly it's like you have a lot to lose.

It's pointless. What the hell are you expecting? She'll see you outside and ask things like "what are you doing here?", you'll stutter like a broken record and just walk away, feeling stupid and wishing you never met her. Maybe she won't ask, but what would you say? "I was in the neighborhood"? What do you even want from her?

Still, you keep coming back here like something magic is going to happen.

You're 22, for God's sake, you shouldn't believe in magic.

You shrug, finishing your already cold coffee and hide your face in your hands, like you don't know what to do with yourself.

It's pretty accurate.

"You come here a lot, don't you?"

"Are you like, stalking me, Trouty?"

He shrugs. "I work here, Santana."

"And I buy my coffee here. What's your point again?"

He sighs. Sam is texting you non-stop since the party and you're avoiding him like a bill. You know what he wants and you're not giving him anything until you figure something that puts your head at ease. It may take a while.

"You can't avoid me forever, you know."

"Look. I had the crappiest day ever", you say, rubbing your temple and closing your eyes painfully. "No, scratch that. I had the crappiest week ever. Can't you just knock it off and bring me coffee so I can go home and spend another night without a minute of sleeping because I'm a fucking Med student and that's what I do?"

You feel sorry for him. He's your best friend and you're treating him like shit because you can't deal with anything without breaking everything and everybody in the process – including yourself. You're looking down when you hear him coming back with your order, sitting next to you on the couch, taking his apron off and facing you.

"You're doing it again", he sounds so sad. You look at him and the way he's looking at you almost makes you cry. He's running a hand through his hair and it looks like he wants to speak something, but nothing comes out. You know the feeling.

Suddenly you're so fucking tired.

"I'm sorry. It's just stressful and my teacher said we-"

"We're not putting enough effort. I know. I fucking know, you always say the same stuff every time you have a problem", you try to reply it's not it, but he raises his hand and makes you stop. "Don't use your career as a shield, Santana. Remember High School, when you said you were having a hard time at the cheerleading squad every time you had a fight with your father?"

You shrug. "Coach Sylvester was a bitch, Sam. I'm sure you rem-"

"This is about the party, isn't it?"

You freeze.

"Are you serious right now, Trouty?" You try to use a sarcastic tone in your voice, but you end up looking cornered anyway. "I don't even remember it."

He looks outside for a second and gets up. You release your breath as he goes behind the counter and grabs his backpack. "Right. I'm taking you home."

His tone is final and you don't say anything.

Your place's never been so messy. Thereare papers on the floor, open books, dishes on every plain surface available and more glasses than you remember having.

"Holy crap"

Yup. Sam's a wise guy.

"Like I said", you grab an ashtray and hides it before he sees. You feel your pockets to check if your cigarettes are still safe. "Crappiest week ever."

"I miss your floor, you know" he jokes, grabbing some papers with some statistics. You don't remember half of things you write; it's just an interesting placebo effect.

"There's beer on the fridge. Want some?"

Talking about placebo effect…

"I'm fine" he continues searching your mess. "But you might need some if we're going to talk about stuff."

You grab a beer and throw yourself at the couch, wishing you could just bury yourself in it and disappear to, you don't know, Wonderland or something. You feel the other side sinking and brace yourself because that will hurt for sure.

"Can you tell me what happened? You left with Brittany and-"

Hearing her name makes you shiver and when you feel the warmth reaching your cheeks you know that's trouble. Luckily the lights are dim and Sam can't see you blushing. You zone out for a second remembering when she said her name for the first time, reaching for your hand and shaking it like you were adults in a very important business meeting. It makes you smile.

"Santana, are you even listening?"

Busted.

"You wanna know what happened?" you spat, getting up all of a sudden. He looks at you in a way that says "finally", and you're glad your act is working fine. "We went to the pool and just talked about silly and funny things. I asked her what you guys were talking about and she told me about the fucking clever answer she gave you and whoa, snap, Sammy. Bet ya didn't see that one coming, did ya?"

You don't know why you're so angry. You feel like he's putting you against a wall and pointing a gun at your face. It's so fucking terrifying. As if you weren't scared enough with, well, everything else. Right now you want to yell and hide at the same time, because you can't remember that night without feeling overwhelmed and if he'll make you go through this again, you're so not doing it without releasing at least part of your tension.

"Then", you continue, walking around the coach. Sam looks confused, with his arms crossed across his chest, bracing himself. "She said we needed to leave. And we didn't need to do anything because you said I was so fucking scared. Why did you say that, Sam? She was feeling bad because you talked to her like she was a monster. Why would you do that?"

He gasps. You're so proud of yourself because you managed to make it about what he said instead of what you did. You take a seat again, crossing your legs and arms, arching an eyebrow waiting for an answer. His mouth is opening and closing and he's looking everywhere except at you. It takes almost a second for him to recover.

"You were terrif-"

"I SAID I WAS FINE!" You're shouting for the wrong reason and your self-control is on the edge. Sam looks perfectly calm now that you're losing it. You want to grab him by the shirt and just shake him until he feels as dizzy as you do, but you can't. So you keep talking and walking around. "You're not my fucking brother. I don't need help. And look at me while I'm talking to you", you throw the empty beer on the floor. "I kissed her, right before we left. And you know what? I was so freaking drunk I can't even tell if it was good or not. Just like at Cheerleading Camp. There, that's it. Are you happy now? Will you stop creating scenarios in which I kiss the girl and suddenly everything makes sense and a fucking rainbow bolt strikes me right in the face?"

"I'm sorry, Santana", it's almost a whisper, but you hear it anyway. He looks so small and you feel so, so bad. "I was worried, because you said you were confused, and I thought I could… I mean, Brittany seemed a nice girl and… Shit, it's so fucked up, I…"

Shit. You feel like you just kicked a dog and he came back licking your foot. It's so painfully strong your legs start shaking and you have to sit. You manage to sit on the floor, embracing your legs as Sam continues mumbling nonsense and looking as lost as you've been.

"Sammy", you call, softly, burying your head between your knees. He stops talking and you hear him sitting next to you and feel his arm around your shoulder.

"I'm just worried", his hand strokes your hair slowly. "I'm always worried. I thought… I thought you'd figure it out, you know, after. I thought that would be the answer you've been looking for. But now… I don't know what the question is."

You can't lift your head because lying feels so damn heavy now. You don't know when you became this fucked up. It's not the Brittany thing (her name is the only sound in your head that doesn't sound like a horn), that doesn't feel wrong at all. It's everything else.

"I'm sorry", you say, and you don't realize you were crying until he reaches you cheek. "I didn't mean it."

"I know."

"You know when you start doing things on automatic mode, like it's everything fine and you don't need to think about it?" He nods. "I finished High School with a bunch of acceptance letters. Co-captain of the Cheerleading squad. Dating the quarterback. Prom Queen at Senior Prom." You take a breath and snort. "Kicked Pre-Med right in the balls, Dad was so freaking proud. I was doing every fucking thing right."

"At some point, when things were getting harder, I stopped a bit. And I started to think about everything. That moment in the movies, you know? When the hero makes questions and realizes his life is just bullshit?"

"And what did you find out?"

"I don't know", you shrug, like it's that simple. "I keep trying convincing myself I know what I'm doing and what'll happen at the end, but the truth is that I don't. I'll just… Wake up, go to class, study hard, graduate, work, save people, go home and sleep. I'm hoping it'll be enough, even though I know it won't be. 'Cause there's something I'm missing. I just can't figure out what."

"What happened at the party, Santana?" You're so tired that the shiver of fear you felt before isn't there anymore. He notices. "What really happened?"

"I felt calm. I can't really describe, but that's the closest I can get. It was like one day, when my father was on call and I was with him. This guy came after a car crash; the heart rate monitor was crazy fast because he was collapsing and my father was doing everything to save him. When he did something right, the sounds slowed down. My shoulders were so tense, and I just realized it when I released them."

"What did Brittany say?"

"Just that she wouldn't tell anyone about it because I needed time to process. I don't think time is going to help me to process anything."

"Why?"

"I was better when I didn't know there was something wrong. Time will help me, yes, but it'll help me forgetting, not processing."

"Is that what you want?"

You shrug. "It's easier."

"That's not an answer."

"Then I don't have one."

You finish your last cigarette pack in frenzy. Your hands are shaking almost as much as your legs and a distant part of you is saying you can't keep doing it because you won't survive long enough to move to San Francisco and become a doctor.

Sometimes you wonder if that's the only thing that keeps you moving.

You know it is.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud ring. You reach your phone and almost gasp when you see the name on the screen.

"Quinn?" Her breathing is erratic on the other side. You frown. "What's wrong?"

"Hey, Santana", she fakes happiness, but her voice is too weak and you know her too well to buy it. "It's been a while."

"That's an understatement, Fabray, it's been almost two fucking years", you're so worried. "Are you okay?"

"I need to tell you something."

"Holy shit, you're pregnant again."

She laughs with no humor at all. "Stop being bitchy, Santana."

"Can't really help it", you shoot back, smirking. "Now tell aunt Tana what's bothering you."

"I don't know how to begin…"

"Don't come with 'I don't know how to begin', for fuck's sa-"

"I met this girl and-"

"Wait, did you say 'girl'?" You laugh like a crazy person. There's no way. No fucking way. It must be some fucked up joke.

"Would you mind letting me finish? Why are you laughing?"

"No… Please, please finish", you can't control yourself and you don't even know why you're laughing so much. Quinn sounds as scared as you sound, that's not funny at all.

She starts talking about her freshman year after undergrad, when she spent most time on the library because college life scared the shit out of her and she didn't want to get pregnant or something just as messed up like that. You can't help but laugh like crazy because that's so not the Quinn you know. Then she talks about a girl named Rachel that was always at the same library. Her voice changed when she said her name, and when the reason behind it hits you it makes you gasp.

"I thought she worked there or something. One day, I asked her about a book for my class and she told me she was a student like me. I was so embarrassed that I asked her to grab a coffee with me just to make up for it. I didn't realize why I really asked until later, when we were at this nice Café near the campus and she asked me if it was a date. I spilled half of my coffee at my favorite dress."

"Quinn, I…" You're speechless.

"I know I should've called before", she states, like she doesn't know how to deal with you after what she told you. "I thought it would be better for me to stay at the Yale bubble, I needed to… Figure things out with Rachel and… I needed to tell you, because it's a big deal and you've been my best friend for years, but…"

You feel betrayed. You called her so many times, and not to catch up; you called because you were fucking lost, drunk and depressed, needing your best friend and Sam was a freshman with his own problems. She didn't pick up the phone because she was fooling around with a girl.

"I couldn't call you and not mention it, you know? I needed to be ready to tell you. It's a big deal. We're dating for a while now."

"Wait, you're dating? As in 'Quinn Fabray having a girlfriend'? What the actual fuck?"

"It happened, Santana!" Now she sounds pissed. "You don't get a say on things like this, you know. It's like a lightning bolt, it strikes you."

"Shit, you're getting all sappy", you break the tension and starts laughing again. She laughs with you and tell something about you being a bitch again. "Yea, it's nice to know you're happy and you're not getting pregnant again anytime soon, but… Why are you telling me this? I mean, you called late at night, after two years like, out of the fucking map, just to tell me you got yourself a girlfriend? That's a little… No. Wait."

"Santana…"

"Sam. Sam called you. Didn't he?"

You can hear Quinn's brain working, like she's putting thoughts together carefully to say them to you and not to break anything. She knows you're pissed because Sam's taking care of your life again and you don't like it. Quinn's been away for a long time, she doesn't know you anymore.

"Please, don't be mad at him. He's trying to help."

"Do you actually know what's going on here, Quinn? Or he just told you I'm a mess lately and he doesn't know how to help anymore?"

Her silence tells you that it was exactly what he said.

"He told me about the girl", Quinn says in a small voice. "Let's catch up, shall we? It's been a while and I've missed you, S."

She's got to be kidding.

"Quinn, it's freaking 3 am. Are you high or something?" You run your fingers through your hair and walk to the fridge to get another beer. Sam is unbelievable.

"I'm just worried about you."

"Well, you're two fucking years late, dammit!" You spat. "You should have answered my calls, when… You know what? Never mind. You don't even know. I'm hanging up now; go back to your girlfriend."

"It's easier to say you don't know what you're doing, isn't it?" She starts to say, confidence making her voice almost scaring. It's like a dare. You know her game. Still, she gets you every single time. "Well, I think you do, Santana. You've just found something you didn't know you were looking for, but now you can't not to see, can you?"

"What are you-"

"It's terrifying because you don't know how you're going to say it out loud, but you've already said it to yourself. Keeping it inside won't make it disappear, you know?"

You can't speak.

"Look, you don't need to tell me anything. I got it." You're sure she does. "Calm down and stop being so harsh with yourself, it's not your fault. Take it easy, don't lock yourself at home with alcohol and cigarettes like I know you're doing", you scoff. "I mean it, Santana. You're going to be a fucking doctor, you can't tell your patients what to do when you do those things with yourself."

"Quinn, you have no-"

"Oh, I have no idea? Seriously?" She's laughing at you and you feel pathetic. You are pathetic. "C'mon, grow up. Stop treating your friends like we're clueless. We know you."

"You're overreacting, Q, I'm perfectly capable of-"

"Stop giving Sam a hard time. He's just a boy, he doesn't know how to help, but he sure cares about you. You're scaring him", she continues with the lecture and her words are making you sink further and further on your coach. There's an army of little people running inside your brain, beating your skull with hammers. Your throat is dry, but you know Quinn doesn't want to hear you speaking anyway. "And please, if you think it's going to be good for you, call the girl."

She takes a deep breath, and you know it's over.

"Thank you, Quinn", you whisper, because you don't trust your voice right now.

"You're going to be okay, S." You don't know that and she doesn't either, but you want to believe her so badly. "I know I'm late, and I'm sorry. But I'm here now. We got your back, promise."

You don't say anything and just hang up. You sleep on the couch, covering your head with a pillow until you can't breathe. The sun is rising and even though you didn't sleep, you found yourself feeling a little better.

Quinn just gave you a map.

Things are better, you can't deny it. Quinn's been calling you often, Sam stopped worrying about you because he thinks Quinn solved your problem, whatever it was, you got enough sleep to clear your apartment and pay attention to your classes.

It's that time of the semester everybody disappears for tests, auditions and stuff like that. You find yourself at the library with the patient write-ups you need to deliver, enough books to make a fortress around you and lots of coffee and energy drinks. You feel like you could use a break, but your head is on automatic-pilot and you know that if you stop, you'll never want to finish and you don't want to face your preceptor if you don't pass this subject.

"That's Clinical Skills 3?" You hear a male voice behind you. He makes you jump but he doesn't notice, too focused on your papers. "Stevens?"

"Swartzberg", you reply, assuming he's asking about the teacher. "There's just too much blood in my coffee."

He takes a sit right beside you and keeps watching. You're too tired to care, so you continue writing furiously under his look. He doesn't say a thing.

"I'm sorry", he says after a while, sounding embarrassed. "I didn't mean to look creepy. I couldn't focus on my papers anymore, so I decided to walk around. There's nobody else here."

You stop and turn to look at him. "It's no big-"

His eyes are so blue that make you freeze. It's like déjà vu. He's wearing glasses with no frame, his blond hair is messy and it looks like he just woke up. You realize one second late you're staring.

"Anyway", he starts, with a lopsided smile. He's not flirting or anything, just being friendly. You're not flirting either; your brain doesn't have the capacity. "I have to go back or I'll never finish."

"You never told me what you were doing."

"Oh. Just working on my dissertation", he shrugs. "You should take easy on the coffee, you know."

You scoff. "If you knew my preceptor, you wouldn't tell that."

He shrugs again, raising his hands. "I'm just saying."

The gesture is so freaking familiar and you can't remember why. You think you're delusional because of the coffee. He's right; you should stop and get some sleep.

"Right", you go back to your papers and he takes it as a clue to leave.

"Guess I'll see you around…" he pauses, waiting for your name.

"Lopez", you say quickly. "Santana Lopez."

He touches your shoulder and gets up. You turn to look at him again, he's offering his hand. You take it. "Matthew. Matthew Pierce. You can call me Matt."

You drop his hand and he goes away. You can't move a single muscle and your eyes are impossibly wide.

Matthew Pierce.

Pierce.

Brittany.

"Oh my God."

"You met her brother? That's awesome! Ask for her number. Or his, I don't know what you want anymore."

"Quinn, c'mon, be serious", you reply, trying not to laugh because, really, what are the chances? "I don't know if they're related."

"Oh yeah, sure. 'Cause there's a lot of Pierces with electric blue eyes and blond hair walking on your campus", she pauses and says something that sounds a lot like 'in a second, babe', and you feel a sting in your chest. "I gotta go. Rach wants my opinion on some playlist. We'll talk later. But seriously, if you met him again, ask about Brittany."

"I'm not sure if I want to know, Q. It's been a while."

"Are you kidding? Of course you want to know. Or you wouldn't be freaking out over it", you gasp and she knows she's got you. "You know it."

You hear Rachel calling her again on the other side.

"Yea, sure. You better go before Rachel decides she's holding sex for a week to punish you", Quinn starts to complain, but you cut her off, "alright Quinn, I don't wanna know."

You don't have time to go to the kitchen to grab something before your phone rings again. Sam's voice is barely understandable because he's half shouting half cheering something about Mercedes coming to town after almost 4 years living in LA. Soon as you understand him you get thrilled too, Mercedes is really fun and you miss hanging out with her. They want to see a performance and go to some bar after, to celebrate the end of the tests. When you say you know he's going to be all over her and you really don't want to be alone Sam says she's going to bring Sugar. You don't know if it's any better, but you agree anyway, telling him to text you the location. He says he's picking you up because you're always late and the way he says it makes you think he's hiding something from you.

"You've got to be kidding me!" your mind shouts when you find yourself at the entrance of the Zellerbach Playhouse. He said the performance was in town, not on the campus. Damn.

"Here we go", Sam says, barely containing his excitement. "Look, I can see them! God, she looks amazing and…"

"C'mon, lovesick boy", you joke, trying to hide the way your stomach is turning painfully.

Ignoring the knot in your stomach, you get in your seat while Mercedes is talking about her job in LA and how she thinks she's one step from signing a solo contract after 4 years singing on the back. She tells you she came here because her producer couldn't make it and he wanted to meet one of the student choreographers and offer them a job in the summer. You ask if she knows who the student is – just because, of course – and she says "whatshisname Chang", and you release your shoulders, even though you don't know if she's a student choreographer. She said 'dance major', so…

She continues explaining about tonight's event until someone shows up at the stage and everybody is silent as he speaks.

"Good evening, everyone! It's nice to see a full house. My name is Mike Chang and this is the Fall Choreography Showcase. Tonight we'll see the original work from some of our student choreographers, including me", he laughs easily and plays with his tie. "I want to say thanks to my teachers, my friends, especially the ones that'll be dancing tonight, for making this show a reality; and finally, thank you guys for coming. Hope you have a great time with us tonight."

Everyone claps loudly and an older man enters the stage with a piece of paper in hands.

"The first performance tonight will be Michael Chang's 'Underwater'. The song is 'No Way Out', by Gramatik. Enjoy."

The song starts as the curtains open, revealing a white background with some blue tissues creating an effect you don't understand, but it's beautiful anyway.

Not so beautiful as the girl who enters the stage leading the way with a long dark blue dress that you swear it's made with smoke. Her blond hair is floating around her as she moves flawlessly on the stage, the other dancers barely catching any attention. The beat changes, a transition to jazz into some kind of hip-hop and she follows it, moving faster but still so delicate, her eyes sparkling on the dim light like a lighthouse, guiding the public through the show.

You can't believe you took so long to see her again.

Your brain refuses to recognize anything that's not her, not even the music, not even the comments your friends are making, nothing.

Suddenly you wish you had brought flowers. But then you remember you don't have guts for that. You sink a little with the thought and you find yourself wanting to do something – anything, really – to talk to her after her performance, just to say she was breathtaking in it.

You guess you can say Brittany is always like that.

There are three more numbers, none of them gets your attention – of course – and before you know it, your friends are getting up to leave. Mercedes says she has to wait for Mike and everybody agrees to wait with her, so you can go together to the bar after. You don't have to wait longer until you see Mike and some dancers leaving the building.

Mercedes' tone is professional when she asks if she can have a word with him, smiling politely in a way that makes you think that's going to take some time.

"I'm going to the bathroom", you say to Sam and Sugar.

You miss when Sugar opens her mouth to say something and Sam grabs her wrist surely, speaking something that sounds like 'she wants to be alone', holding her in place.

"I told you Berkeley isn't that big", her voice is crystal clear and you're sure it's a dream. She's still with the performance makeup, but changed her dress into jeans and a white tank top. She's smiling at you like she has a secret only she knows.

"Brittany", you say slowly, with a smile. You feel your face heating.

"Hi", she looks shy, stepping towards you almost in slow motion. "Took us long enough."

"For what?" You're asking questions knowing the answer, none of your voices above a whisper.

"Meeting again."

You're blushing so furiously.

"I-I saw you dancing", you want to say so many things, but the way she's looking at you like she can't quite believe she finally found you makes you so warm inside you can't really think. "You were amazing. I wish I had flowers, y-you totally deserve flowers."

Now she's the one blushing. You're proud of yourself.

"You're such a gentlewoman, Santana", her smile gets bigger and she pokes your nose. You've the same height because you're wearing heels and she's wearing chucks. You can't help but imagine how it would be to kiss her without the height difference.

What are you doing?

"Why do you always zone out when we're talking?" She asks, half-joking, half flirting. "Am I that boring?"

"Not at all", you flirt back, not even realizing. "Look, my friends are outside and-"

"I get it", she cuts you and steps back, and you hate yourself because of it.

"No, it's not that", you give a step towards her again and she looks surprised. "We're going to some bar to celebrate the end of the tests, and… Actually, do you want to come?"

Her eyes widen comically when you ask. Sure, you're not asking her on a date, but it's a start. Your heart is beating like crazy and you can feel your hands sweating. Okay, gross. You have no game.

"I'd love to, but… My parents are coming over tomorrow and I need to be up early", you frown. "It's not a lame excuse, I…"

"I could ditch they instead", you say in a rush, and you can't believe you did. "I mean, my friend… Mercedes came from LA, and Sam has a crush on her, and he'll be all over her, and Sugar is so annoying and…"

"Santana", Brittany is laughing at your rambling and you're feeling pathetic. Until she kisses your cheek quickly, then you just want to die because your face is on fire. "You're cute."

"T-that's a yes? I mean, I have to get my car at my apartment, because Sam drove me here, b-but you don't mind, right? I mean, it's not-"

"Calm down", she says, amused. "My car is across the street. Get rid of your friends and meet me there in…" she checks her watch, "ten minutes."

You nod vigorously, a big goofy smile on your face like it's never going away.

"Good. See you soon", she lifts your chin with one finger and catches your lower lip between hers, letting go faster than you wanted.

As soon as you can speak again, you joke. "I thought you said you wouldn't surprise me again."

She stops by the door and look at you over her shoulder.

"Are you honestly surprised?"

Thanks for reading, following and everything. You guys are awesome. :)
See you soon.