Fifty Words for Forgiveness
*0*0*
Listening
*0*0*
You were still running on you high from agreeing to be friends with Quinn yesterday, that at first you didn't even notice. You were giddy, the excitement at finally being able to approach Quinn and talk to her when you wished now also causing you to feel queasy, and you didn't want to eat a single thing before school that Tuesday morning. You couldn't, you were sure you would bring it all back up at some point later if you weren't careful, so you weren't even going to take the risk.
Your father had other ideas, however.
"It's not healthy to skip meals, mija, so please, can you eat something before school?" he asked, rolling up his sleeves before opening the fridge. You sighed and shook your head, trying hard to save your words for later, but he was persistent. "Santana, the fridge won't carry the food to you, but if you ask politely, I might cook you something."
"I don't want anything," you gritted out, scowling at him. Why did he have to be so caring? Why did he have to be a good father?
"Nonsense. You may be back on the Cheerios, but that doesn't mean you have to stick to that horrible diet Coach Sylvester recommends." Tomás shook his head and rolled his eyes at the mention of the Coach, and you sighed even louder. He really was going to make you eat something; there was no way out of it.
Getting up from the kitchen table, you glided round him while he started throwing ingredients into a pan, and you pulled a carton of juice from the fridge. Waving it at him with a peachy smile, you saw him shake his head before pointing back at the fridge. Apparently, juice was not enough.
Great, just great. Your father was going to have you throwing up all over Quinn's shoes with the rate the butterflies were fluttering in your stomach. Parent of the year.
Opening the fridge once more, you pulled out a yogurt that you knew you would appease him, and took a seat back at the table. He watched you have a few mouthfuls before looking satisfied and went back to what he was cooking.
Moments later, you heard the familiar sound of your mother's heels on the landing as she came down the stairs, and you awaited her arrival.
"Morning!" she mother called, waltzing in, smiling brightly.
"Morning," you replied, returning her smile as best you could given the sour twist to your day. You could already feel your stomach churning, the nerves and excitement of seeing Quinn, talking to Quinn, getting the better of you.
Cocking your head to the side, you frowned and tuned out your parents. Talking to Quinn. Talking. It couldn't be…could it? Maybe you weren't hearing things correctly. Maybe you had just missed it.
"I'm going to…" you trailed off, rising from your seat and abandoning your food.
You could hear your parents discussing your departure, but that was all you could hear. They were talking, the pan was sizzling, the sound of your feet on the stairs as you ran up them, the pounding beat of your heart in your ears; that's all you could hear. That's all you had heard. Nothing else.
You had to be wrong.
Diving into your room, you shut the door behind you and paced the floor. You hadn't heard it. You hadn't heard a single thing. Nothing. You had spoken, given away your words, and there had been no voiceover, no repercussion, no tally of every word you said.
The creepy voiceover was gone.
What the fuck was going on?
Rushing to your desk, you hunted out your phone and dialled the first name that came to mind. She would know, or at least she would understand the significance of this moment. Hearing the phone ringing, you waited, your body practically vibrating off the bed. The second it answered, you spoke, needing to constantly clarify that you hadn't made this up.
"Rachel?" you asked, and then you waited, but still the voiceover refused to speak.
"Yes, Santana, that is who you called," Rachel's voice drawled, clearly unimpressed with your phone manner. Whatever, she could lecture you on it later; right now, you had important things to discuss.
"Look, I don't have time for your smartass retorts. I need you over here, right away." You needed to talk to her, face to face.
"What? Over where?" she asked, confused. Fighting extra hard to bite back the sarcastic retort you had worked up for that answer, you took a deep breath and replied.
"My house. I need you to come to my house, right now."
"We have school. I have Spanish!" she cried, not hearing the urgency in your voice.
"Skip it, please. I need you."
"Has something bad happened?" She practically whispered it down the phone, and you'd bet your inheritance on it that she was thinking of all the possible ways things could have fucked up for you.
"No, not bad, just please, can you come over?" You knew she could, you were really asking if she would. This would test her best friend status. By this point, if the conversation had been reversed and she was needing you to go over there, you would already be in your car.
"Are your parents still there? Because if they are-"
"They'll be gone in twenty minutes, tops," you replied, growing bored with her questions.
"You really owe me for this, because when my dads find out I've skipped Spanish, they're going to kill me." Yeah, and if they ever found out who she'd skipped with, they'd kill you, too. You were such a bad influence on their daughter. Shame that you didn't care.
"I'll make it up to you, I promise." And you would. You would break into the admin office and steal the test answers if she needed you to. Whatever to make it up to her. Though, knowing her, she would never want you to do that. Goody two shoes.
"Okay, I'll be there in twenty-five minutes. Can I park my car in your garage? I don't want my dads spotting it if they decide to take a detour on their way to work."
"Yeah, I'll leave it open and be waiting on you. Thanks."
"Despite all my whining, you are welcome, Santana. I'll see you then." Hanging up, you flopped back on your bed and sighed.
Twenty-five minutes; you had to now wait twenty-five minutes before you could talk about what was going on. And holy fuck, you could actually talk now! Hell, you just had an entire phone conversation, which was something you never could do!
Grinning to yourself, you headed back downstairs and made up for the lost time with your parents. They had noticed your sudden quietness, but both had put it down to teenage angst. They were half-right, you guessed. Now that you could speak to them properly, though, you didn't want to waste any time.
Only when they said they had to leave in case they were going to be late, did you not you had filled twenty minutes catching up with them, and Rachel was going to be there any minute. Knowing her like you did, she'd probably arrive in exactly five, on the dot, which did mean getting your parents out the door in time.
Making sure they had all their keys and their bags, you promised to lock the house and be out in time for school, feeling slightly bad for that half-truth, before they left. Checking your phone one last time, you headed to the garage and opened it for Rachel to drive right in at, which she did.
You gave her a thankful smile and shut the garage doors just in case her dads did drive by and see the car in there. Welcoming her in, you motioned for Rachel to follow, and the two of you made your way through the house.
She had only been there one or two times before, both very brief, and you could see her slyly looking round the place. You'd give her the tour later if she wanted, but right now you had things to be discussing.
"So what's the big news?" Rachel asked, following you into the living room and taking a seat next to you.
"How many words do you think I've said today?"
"What?" she frowned, and you saw her ponder you question in confusion. "A hell of a lot more than fifty. Even with the fluctuations, today's word usage so far is very much above the averages you've experienced so far. What's going on?"
"I can't hear it," you said, unable to fight the smile away.
"The voiceover?" Rachel sat forward on the couch, eager to hear your answer.
"Yep. It's gone."
"Oh my gosh, Santana, that's fantastic! You're back, you have your words back!" She was grinning at you, so pleased, and you nodded in response, a little shocked still with this turn of events. "You can do whatever you want now, say whatever you want! If you want to go all Lima Heights on someone's ass, you can! Oh, if you want to spit venomous remarks at your fellow peers, you can! And best of all, you can now sing in Glee!"
Laughing along with her, you nodded and dropped back into the couch. She was right, everything she had said was correct. You could do all those things. Surprisingly, though, you didn't want to spit venomous remarks at people, nor did you want to go Lima Heights on someone's ass.
These past months, without your words, they had been hard, dreadful in some aspects. But you got through it. You made it through the crap without hurting others, without tearing them down and destroying their self-esteem. So, why would you want to go back to that? Why would you want to return to what was once your default state? You were better now, happier now, you didn't need that side of you anymore.
Okay, yes, you probably wouldn't give up the insults completely, and sure, there was bound to be a time when you would go Lima Heights on someone, but it didn't have to be an everyday thing. No, you now knew you could survive McKinley without it, just like you'd survived without your Cheerio's uniform.
You were actually a lot stronger than you ever gave yourself credit for. And a major part of that, you noted, was the girl sitting next to you. Without her, you would have fallen under the crippling pressure of McKinley and surely gone insane. Rachel had eased that burden, and set you on the right tracks.
As if sensing you were about to say something, Rachel stopped rattling on about all the things you could now say or do, and waited. She raised her eyebrows in question, and you shrugged before finally speaking.
"I haven't really had the words before now, but I have tried to thank you. And I guess, I want to thank you again." You saw her open her mouth to protest, but you stopped her with a quick shake of your head. "Seriously, Rach, you have no idea how much you've helped me. So, thank you, for being there for me, and for looking out for me."
"You have to stop thanking me, I've not done anything worth thanking me for, Santana."
"I beg to differ."
"Regardless, I appreciate your thanks. Now, have you told Brittany and Quinn yet? I really think it's important they know."
"Not yet, I wanted to tell you first." Rachel gave you a soft smile before looking away, biting her lip and taking a deep breath.
"Well, are you going to tell them at school? Or are you going to rope them into skipping, too? However, it might be a bit late for that," she mused, glancing at the clock on the mantel to check.
"No, I can tell them later."
"Do you know what you're going to do with Quinn now?"
"I'm going to stick to the plan. Right now, we're just going to try and be friends. I can't risk that. I don't want to push things with her, just in case I push too far and she runs."
"Friends?"
"Yeah, it won't be easy. God, it's going to fucking suck. But, I guess I can do it. I mean, how hard can it be? At least now, I can talk to her properly, that counts for something. Can I do this?" you asked, sort of hoping Rachel could tap into her psychic abilities and tell you if you were going to screw it up.
"Remember what I said about selfless love? Well, this is time to put that to the test. You can't afford to jeopardise this friendship because you're still in love with her," Rachel said, glancing away from you before continuing. "It is possible to love someone from afar, Santana, and while it is a hopelessly painful experience, it can be done. If nothing comes of Quinn, because she can't come out and can only offer you friendship, you will move on, eventually."
"And what if I don't want to move on? What if she's it?" You didn't like the thought of moving on, but she did have a point. Quinn might never want to be out and open about her sexuality.
"If she's it, if she's your soul mate, then I would say you need to make every effort to be her friend, regardless of how difficult that might be. You need to prepare yourself for the times where she'll inadvertently break your heart but be looking for you to smile at her news, rather than cry. You need to ask yourself if she's worth it, because you could go on to be happy with someone else, but you can't settle for someone else if you do still love Quinn."
"I only want her." Every fibre of your being wanted her, loved her, adored her. There could be no one else, not any time soon. Losing her would destroy you.
"And next year, when we're all at different colleges?" Rachel asked curiously. She was being your sense of reason right then, and you couldn't be annoyed at the reality check she was giving you. Just because you had your words back didn't mean everything would get better. There was still a long road ahead.
"I'll still want her, just then I'll be a broke college student pining for a girl in another state." That sounded about right.
"Do you know where she's applying?"
"Her first choice is Yale." Of course it was. She was a freaking genius, phenomenal at almost everything she did. Why wouldn't she pick one of the best schools in the country?
"And are you going to apply there, or have you already?" You could see Rachel looking at you with worry, and you almost wanted to thank her again for caring so much. It was clear she didn't want you to throw away your plans for the future on one girl, even if that girl was Quinn.
"No, Yale's not for me."
"Well, that's something," Rachel muttered, pursing her lips in thought. You were pretty sure she hadn't meant for you to hear her.
"What?" You raised your eyebrows in question, fighting off a smile at how relieved she looked.
"You're not following her like a lovesick puppy. I'd hate to see you put your hopes and dreams aside for hers." She shrugged, and this time you did send her a thankful smile, reaching out and giving her hand a squeeze.
"Going to Yale won't do me any good. If anything, it would probably make things worse. If we were only friends, I'd have to see her around campus with her beard or something, and that would be torture. No, I'm going to just stick with my original choices for college and if anything further happens with me and Quinn, we can cross that bridge when we come to it."
"You already have your choices?" You nodded and she enquired further, curious to know where you applied.
"NYU, Columbia, Louisville because they have a pretty kickass cheerleading squad and I think I could rock that, and Princeton. Thank God I'm a trust fund baby."
"You're applying to New York?" Rachel asked, sitting up a little straighter.
"Yeah, after being there for Nationals, I guess it grew on me."
"You know I'm also going to New York, right?" she wondered, biting her bottom lip.
"Yep, I know." You smiled coyly at her and she shook her head, laughing.
"We're going to be in New York together." You could see the excitement in her, and you waved your hands in disagreement, not wanting her to jump the gun.
"If I get in, that is. I might end up Louisville or maybe head to Princeton." Pft, that was unlikely, but still.
"But your first choice?" She looked to be waiting on tenterhooks for your reply.
"Columbia." That seemed to be the correct answer, as she gave you her show smile.
"We're going to New York together!" she said happily, clapping her hands excitedly.
Apparently, there was no telling Rachel otherwise, she was convinced you both would get in, and seemed very pleased with the news. You were too, actually. Yeah, you had known she was applying there. You would be surprised if anyone didn't know given how often she told people about her dream to be on Broadway. And okay, maybe that had influenced your decision slightly, as you weren't going to apply to NYU, but whatever.
New York was a big place, and yeah, you maybe wanted to have one familiar face around if you moved there. The fact that it would be her made everything better.
*0*0*
Rachel and you eventually made it into school. You had skipped the morning talking about all the things you both had wanted to talk about but couldn't due to your voiceover. It was great to hang out with her properly, to tease her endlessly, without the possibility of it being over in minutes. However, good things had to come to an end and school was calling. The two of you had to at least make an appearance otherwise your parents would be called.
Thankfully, you knew how to forge your father's signature rather well, and managed to provide two different, and totally believable doctor's notes. Yes, if anyone found out, you were going to be in serious shit, but that was not the case. Rachel wasn't going to rat on you, that was for sure.
Within minutes of being in the building, and passing on your doctor's notes to the appropriate, and separate, staff members, you were pounced on by one bubbly blonde. Brittany was grinning at the both of you, clearly pleased to see you, and stopped just a few feet away to talk.
"Hey! Where have you guys been? You missed Spanish, Rachel, so I took notes." Reaching into her bag, Britt pulled out a set of papers and handed them over; all the while Rachel stood frowning.
"I didn't think you were in my Spanish class, Brittany."
"I'm not, but I saw you weren't here and Spanish is a lot more fun than Maths. I'm practically bilingual thanks to Santana. It was easy. I even took your test for you, but I guess, if you want to take it again, you can. Was that okay? I put your name on it and everything. Mr. Schue didn't even notice you weren't there."
"Oh…no, Brittany, that's great. Thank you for that, and for the notes. I will be sure to look over them."
"Great! So where were you? Was Santana helping you become bilingual, too? I thought you were doing that with Quinn," Brittany mused, turning to you in question.
"No!" you barked, hoping to shut that conversation down as soon as possible. "No, Britt-Britt, Rach and I were just at my house, talking. My words came back." You gave her a smile and she lit up.
"Your words are back? That's awesome! Can I now have your number cards? I'm trying to teach Lord Tubbington to count, but he's not very good." You practically felt Rachel beam at the prospect of these cards working. She was still convinced Lord T was deaf.
"Yeah, of course you can." Nodding, you led them to your locker and handed said cards over before changing your books; you did have to actually attend some classes that day, after all.
Squealing happily, Brittany gave you a tight hug, and then Rachel one. She laughed and returned it, thanking her once again for the notes. You hid your smile at that, knowing if Rachel knew the true extent of Brittany's Spanish skills she'd be thankful her for a lot more. Keeping that gem to yourself, you prepared for next class, only to stop when Brittany clapped excitedly.
"You know what, sleepover, this weekend at mine to celebrate your words coming back, San! My parents will be away, and we can hang out together as a group, we can even invite Quinn! How awesome does that sound?"
The two of you nodded, catching Britt's cheery mood. You were very pleased to be spending more time with Quinn, and just the mere thought had you grinning, and you noticed even Rachel didn't seem put off with the idea.
Hearing the bell ring, Rachel bid you goodbye and went to fetch her books, while you closed your locker and perused the corridor for Quinn. You were hoping to catch her before this class, as you were sure you wouldn't see her at lunch, but she didn't seem to be around.
Sadly, the rest of the day remained the same. Quinn was nowhere to be found, and you did wonder if she had actually come in that day. Inquiring at lunch, Brittany informed you that she was there this morning, which made your heart heavy.
Maybe she'd changed her mind about being friends. Maybe she couldn't do it.
The high you had been running off died out, and the following day, you felt like nothing had truly changed. You thought this would affect things slightly, turning the tables in your favour, but apparently not.
On Thursday, you were all but convinced she was avoiding you, and while on your way to meet Rachel and Brittany for lunch, that thought changed. At first, you thought she was motioning someone else over, but looking round, it was most definitely you. And like usual, when Quinn wanted you, you went running.
"Yeah?" you asked, coming to stand closer.
Quinn had been standing in the doorway of an empty classroom, and when you came over, she moved inside, wanting you to follow. You did so, to which she shut the door behind you. That was a little surprising, and you raised your eyebrows in question, wondering what the hell was going on.
"I freaked out," she began, rubbing her hands together anxiously.
"You freaked out," you repeated, wanting to make sure you had heard that correctly.
"I thought about us being friends, and I freaked. We can't just be friends, that's not us, not anymore. But then, I realised that I need you in my life, and God, you just wanted a shot. So, I'm sorry for hiding from you. Friends don't do that, and we're friends now." It sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than you, which was probably true.
"You don't have to be my friend, Quinn." You wanted to give her an out if she needed it.
"I wanted to be, I need to be," she replied, stepping closer.
You were sitting on the edge of the teacher's desk, your legs swinging slightly as she advanced. She stood next to you, her hands reaching out to play with the items on the desk next to you, close enough for you to smell her intoxicating scent and fall back into the memories.
"I accepted Brittany's invitation to her house this weekend, and I hope we can work on being friends again, there. It can be just like it used to between the three of us, with Rachel there, too." She frowned at that and then shrugged. "I didn't ruin this, did I?"
"No, you didn't." She couldn't. She'd never be able to ruin this because you would always allow her back in, accept her apologies, and hope for the best.
"Good." She nodded, chewing on her bottom lip again, and you fought every instinct telling you to get her to stop that.
"My words came back," you said, hoping that would control your urge to kiss her. Quinn looked at you in surprised and then smiled, chuckling under her breath.
"Really? That's great! Congrats, how did you manage that?"
"I have no idea, they just were there all of a sudden. No voiceover, no word limit."
"Back to your old self."
"Better than my old self," you corrected. "My old self would never have told you that I-" you let your sentence hang unsure whether you should repeat those words, and Quinn nodded in understanding.
"No, she wouldn't have. She would have pretended we never even happened, and I never would have heard you say those three important little words." A nostalgic look came over her features, and she wiped it away when she shook her head. "I like this version better."
"Me too."
Putting some distance between the two of you, Quinn stepped back and opened the door.
"So, I'll see you around? I have to go speak to the baby Cheerios, and you need to have lunch."
"Yeah, of course. See you around." Giving you a wave, Quinn was gone, just like that.
You took a moment to collect your thoughts before making a move yourself, but you there was a lightness to your thoughts now. She'd freaked out, and yet, she came back to you. She needed this friendship as much as you did. Surely that said something.
Plus, you had this weekend. Grinning at the thought, you headed off to meet Rachel and Brittany. It had been months, but finally, you were getting to spend quality time with your three closest friends. They all meant different things to you, but were all equally important. Hanging out with them all together was just going to make things even better.
*0*0*
Apparently, you had seriously misunderstood the situation. If you had known Brittany's sleepover was going to turn out like this, you would have faked an illness and hid at home. It wasn't Brittany's fault, this was an unforeseen circumstance, one you were all having to adapt to.
For a brief moment, it had looked like Rachel wasn't going to attend, and now you kinda wished that had been the case. Brittany would have cancelled the sleepover without her, and in turn, that would have given you all time to fix this problem.
Due to Brittany's amazing Spanish skills, however, Rachel was allowed to attend. Her dads had seen no problem granting permission, even though they knew you were attending. Whatever. Rachel was actually shocked when her Spanish test came back with an A grade, and felt guilty about accepting it, but after much convincing from Brittany, she finally let it go.
Now you wished she hadn't.
Sandwiched in between Quinn and Rachel, you sat unamused, while Brittany grinned at you from the couch opposite. She had said all of you need to hand out properly, now that you were all friends, but quite frankly, you bonded well enough with the lot of them.
Okay, yes, this new, tentative, friendship you had going on with Quinn needed some work, but you were never going to get anywhere while Rachel was around. Those two were oil and water, and that was the problem.
They didn't know how to talk to each other. They didn't know how to even look at each other. It was a mess. Brittany didn't seem to mind one bit, but you were feeling the tension in the air, and were already exhausted having to play middle man.
Glancing to your right, you saw Rachel folding her hands in her lap, her gaze firmly on the coffee table, and you knew she wanted out there as much as you did. Glancing to your left, you confirmed that Quinn was no doubt thinking the same thing, eager to leave as soon as possible. Which meant, the only person who wanted to be there was Brittany, beaming brightly before you as the silence grew between the four of you.
"I'm glad we could all make it, tonight. I think it's a great idea for us to hang out now that we're all friends," she said, winking at you.
You wanted to point out Rachel and Quinn weren't friends, and probably never would be, but then Brittany would force that issue and Christ, you couldn't be dealing with that. It seemed best if you could avoid the two of them ever having to talk with each other. You only had to ensure this happened for the next twenty four hours, and that wasn't too hard, surely.
Well, within minutes of saying that, an argument had broken out between them, and you excused yourself to get a glass of water. It was not a great start. You didn't even know how things had gone from idle chatter to the bickering, but whatever, it was not your problem anymore. Brittany had taken over, and you knew she'd sort it out.
Heading into her kitchen, you knew exactly where you were going and fetched a glass before using pouring some water into it and adding ice. You just wanted something to clear your head, but as you looked at your drink selection, you knew you had probably been spending too much time with Rachel. The girl always had water when something was upsetting her, and god, if that hadn't just gone and rubbed off on you.
You'd need to point that out to her later.
Realising it was rather rude of you to leave without offering to get anyone else a drink, you headed back next door, only to stop at the sound of your name. They were talking about you. Creeping forward, you hid next to the open door, completely out of sight, and listened in.
God, you knew you shouldn't have, but you were curious. You wanted to know how Brittany was going to accomplish this task, and you were interested as to why your name had come up. Yeah, you knew Quinn was a little jealous of your friendship with Rachel, but you had already told her she had nothing to worry about. You were in love with her, what was the big deal with Rachel?
Keeping quiet, you heard Quinn mutter something before Brittany started speaking again, and you took notice. She always could command a situation when she needed to, and this felt like the right time.
"It's about time you two formed a truce, for Santana's sake. She can't be friends with the both of you if you're ripping each other's heads off," Brittany explained, a slight strain in her voice.
"Actually, I was not the one who started-" Rachel began to say, and you smiled and rolled your eyes, just picturing her interrupting.
"Oh grow up, Berry. Placing the blame on me is not going to get you off-"
"Quinn, that is not what I am doing at all, thank you very much. I'm merely pointing out-"
"Trying to save your skin, more like it. Heaven forbid Santana know what you're really after-" Quinn argued, sounding disgusted. That had you frowning. Geez, they were like cat and dog once you were out the way.
"I have told you time and time again in regards to that particular accusation, and I will-"
"Just admit it. Admit it and I'll drop it." You knew what Quinn was asking, and you couldn't help but shake your head. She wasn't giving up on that, and it was completely foolish of her. Rachel had already denied it.
"There is nothing to admit!" Rachel cried, her voice rising slightly. You could hear Brittany cooing something, most likely trying to calm her down. They didn't know you were outside the door, so it made sense to keep quiet.
"Yes, there is. You like her." Quinn was armament, and this situation didn't seem close to being resolved at all.
"She's my best friend," Rachel stressed, and you could hear how tired she was of saying this.
"But that's not all she is."
"Good God, Quinn, what do you want me to say?"
"Just admit that you have feelings for her?" Quinn barked, that all too familiar tone making the hair on your neck stand on end.
"She is my best friend."
"Stop lying, for God's sake, Berry. Just come clean."
"Why are you so obsessed with this?"
"Why won't you admit it?" Quinn asked, exasperated.
"There is nothing to admit."
"Liar!"
"You're delusional," Rachel said, sounding bored now. She was giving up, tired of the fight, from the sounds of it.
"Why? Because I can see what's right in front of me? Because I know you like her and don't want to admit it? What is up with that? Why are you so against coming clean, huh? Just admit it, you like her as more than a friend! Stop lying already!"
"For God's sake, Quinn! What do you want me to say, that I like her romantically? Then fine, yes, I do. I like her, I like her a lot, but she's in love with you and is doing everything in her power not to mess that up. And in return, I'm ignoring my feelings to make sure she is happy, to make sure I never cross that line and ruin things. She's my best friend, and I will not sacrifice her friendship for a moment of pure insanity. So are you happy? Has that made you feel better?"
The silence was deafening, and you swallowed nervously. Christ, you knew you weren't meant to hear that. You knew that was the last thing Rachel would ever want you knowing. Taking a shaky breath, you heard Brittany murmur something and decided to vacate the area just in case one of them saw you.
Rachel would freak out if she was aware you knew, and you didn't want that. Her words rang true, she wasn't going to cross that line, she would never. Your chest ached at the thought of how she must be feeling all the time, but you pushed it away and focused on composing yourself properly. The next time you saw her, you had to make sure you didn't give the game away.
That was harder than you thought it would be, but you needed to try. Gulping down your water, suddenly very thirsty, you took a seat at the kitchen counter and recollected your thoughts.
This was fine. You could easily pretend you'd never heard their conversation, Rachel's confession. She most likely hadn't meant it, you thought, given how much pressure Quinn was putting on her to admit it. In those situations, she'd likely say anything to get her to stop. That didn't explain all the other things, the small things, going on between the two of you, but she'd never crossed the line.
You had to give her credit, if she did care about you romantically, she had done a very good job hiding it. You were obviously pining over Quinn, left, right and centre. Yet, you wouldn't really have given it much thought if it hadn't been for Quinn's jealousy.
Hearing the sound of their footsteps growing near, you took another drink and gave them a smile as they entered. Quinn came in first, looking slightly worn out, but she returned your smile and joined you at the counter. Rachel was next, and if you hadn't known her so well, you would have missed the sadness she was trying to hide. And then there was Brittany, who grinned back at you as if nothing had happened, and came to steal a sip of your water.
"We should play a game, a board game!" Brittany cried, rapping her hands on the counter to the beat of her own song. "That sound good?"
"Yeah, that sound great, Britt. I love board games," Rachel replied, picking herself up after whatever had gone down next door after you'd stopped listening. You wanted to hug her, but were now unsure if that was the right thing to do. That in itself was probably the reason Rachel never wanted you knowing how she felt. You had to stop second guessing yourself.
Reaching over, you pulled her cardigan and dragged her near. She came willingly and smiled when you gave her a one-armed hug, still facing Brittany. The two of them continued their board game discussion before electing to go pick one out, and you and Quinn were to come through when ready.
Brittany obviously knew something was up, like she always did, and was giving you space. Masterful, that one was.
Rachel and her left the room moments later, and you wasted no time plucking up the courage to just say what needed to be said. Quinn was unaware you'd heard their conversations, so in her eyes, you were still running away from their conflict. Well, that had to stop. You needed her to know you weren't okay with the fighting.
"Lay off her."
"What?" Quinn looked to you, confused at first, but then realisation hit.
"Lay off her. I know you think you know something, leave it alone." God only knows what agreement they'd all come to, but you wanted to make your stance very clear.
"Santana-"
"I want to be friends, but I can't do that if you keep attacking her." You couldn't. Rachel had been there for you when Quinn wasn't. Rachel had believed in you when Quinn wouldn't listen. It was obvious to you that Rachel was the one you could completely rely on, not Quinn. If that meant picking sides, you would. You'd hate doing it, but if you had to, you would.
"She likes you," Quinn said, shaking her head, as if those words made a huge difference. They didn't.
"So what?"
Quinn's silence said it all as she looked away. You could see her bottling up all her emotions and throwing it away. You could see her pulling up her defences and fighting every fibre of her being to say what she was thinking. She was scared. She was scared you were going to move on, leave her behind, and she couldn't do anything about it if you did. She couldn't fight for you if Rachel made a move, because she couldn't be out.
"If you think I could get over you that easily, you're a fool," you whispered, reaching for her hand and entwining her fingers in yours.
She gave a shaky smile, her eyes cast up to the ceiling as she fought of tears, and you struggled to maintain the safe distance between your bodies. A friend could give their other friend a hug in comfort, but you knew if you were to close that distance it would be so much more than a friendly hug. It would be a lover's embrace.
"Let's get back, huh?"
Nodding, Quinn wiped the stray tears from her cheeks and gave your hand a squeeze before taking her hand back. Wiping down her top and skirt, she composed herself so no one would be the wiser, and strode away with her head held high.
You followed, like usual, biting back a sigh.
Why couldn't your friends just be friends with each other? Yes, the situation was complicated and messy, but it was manageable. You all had the same interests at heart, you all wanted to be friends with at least two of the other three, so why couldn't everything work out?
Making one final prayer, you headed towards the noise and hoped for a better night ahead. You wanted things to improve. You wanted everything to work out before the year broke all of you apart, and you didn't want to have to divide your time between each of them just because they couldn't get on.
With your word limit gone, you now had the ability to demand, and plead, beg that they listen to you. Whether they actually did was an entirely different matter however. Apparently, it didn't matter how many words you had if the person you said them too didn't want to hear them.
You could only hope the three girls in the living room were not like that.
*0*0*