Santana stared into the painfully shiny blue eyes in front of her and sighed. "Head up," she said quietly, moving the mascara brush in her hand over her girlfriend's long eyelashes. Brittany was silent but obeyed.
Santana finished, took in the pile of damp tissues in the trash can and Britt's delicate frame, and stamped her foot a little. "It's not fair," she whispered, looking down and blinking hard. She wanted to be the strong one for once, but it had always been hard for her to be tough and not angry at the same time. "I don't get it." She kicked the underside of the sink Britt was sitting on, looking down.
"Santana?" Brittany said softly. "Don't get mad about this, okay? It's just sad. Can we just… stay sad for a while? I'm not ready for it to be anyone's fault." Her voice broke at the end.
"Oh, Britt, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"
"No, it's fine. I'm fine." she said quietly, making it very clear to Santana that she wasn't.
"Hey." She cupped her girlfriend's head in her hands and looked directly into her eyes. "It's okay to be sad. Like I said. You can cry if you need to; I don't mind re-doing your makeup again."
"I'm not going to cry."
"Okay. But if you did, I wouldn't leave. I'll stay here with you as long as it takes for you to get ready to face everyone. You know that, don't you?" she said decidedly.
Brittany nodded, wanting to stay true to what she said and not trusting herself to speak. Santana pulled her forward, into her arms, when she noticed her chin trembling.
"It's okay, baby. You can cry."
Britt took one last effort to hold it in, wrapped her arms tighter around Santana, and sobbed, knowing that it was okay and that they would still be together when she stopped.