Thanks to everyone who read or reviewed or whatever'd the last chapter. Ya'll are good people.
Not much to say except the usual: Fuck you, Glee, Brittana is endgame, etc. etc.
Happy angst-ing! (says the oxymoron 8D~)
It's been so lonely without you here
Like a bird without a song
Nothing can stop these lonely tears from falling
Tell me baby where did I go wrong
I could put my arms around every boy I see
But they'd only remind me of you
/
Brittany is black.
Santana is gone, really gone, and Brittany feels more lost than usual. Santana's been gone before, but not really gone. Because there was always laundry, or Grease, or Thanksgiving, or holidays, or Sadie Hawkins dances, or duets for Brittany's honor, or weddings before. There was always Santana before. And now there's nothing, nothing but really gone.
And Brittany sees It (feels it) in everything, sees it (feels it) everywhere. She's used to missing Santana, but not like this. Even when she and Santana were unofficial, they still saw each other, still loved each other, still touched and kissed and fucked each other. But now Santana is in New York, and Brittany doesn't see her, doesn't touch or kiss or fuck her. Only loves her. Only misses her with an intensity she has never experienced before. It shadows all her minutes in all her days, and Brittany is black, black, black.
Santana is really gone.
Brittany's not the only one missing- she sees her own pain, her own heart loneliness reflected in the everyday faces of Blaine, reflected in the everyday faces of Finn. The three of them recognize each other's heart loneliness, and Brittany feels like they are part of some secret club- something like the Lonely Hearts Club, but not the Lonely Hearts Club because it's not even a real club, and it's not secret.
Brittany recognizes that Blaine has done exactly what Brittany herself has done- used Sam to distract from missing someone else, and Brittany doesn't mind- she will share Sam gladly. Sam is nice. Sam is beautiful. Sam is tender, caring, and comforting.
Sam is a great distraction.
Brittany recognizes that Finn has done exactly what Brittany herself has done- gone crazy, because what other emotion but crazy could Finn have possibly been feeling in order to kiss Miss Pillsbury? Brittany understands.
But Brittany also knows, just as Finn and Blaine surely know, that kisses and distractions don't ease the heart loneliness they're all feeling. That at the end of the day, Brittany still aches in a way that all of the Sams in the world can't ease. And that ache travels into the beginning of the next day. And the end of the next day. And the beginning of the day after that, and after that, and every day after, until it's a constant feeling. It shadows all her minutes in all her days, and Brittany is black, black, black.
Santana is really gone.
And Brittany hopes she's happy in New York, happy with Rachel and Kurt, happy following her dreams, happy- because Brittany is not quite happy, but she's as happy as she can be without Santana. It's not just Santana being really gone that makes Brittany lonely- she misses all her friends, really. She still has Tina and Arty and Sugar (when she's not too busy) to talk to, and she's tried to befriend Marley (because Santana befriended Marley) but she avoids Blaine and Finn, because she sees too much of her heart loneliness in them. She misses her friends, because they are gone, but she misses her best friend, because she is really gone. Brittany's gotten used to being a Cheerio without Santana, to being in Glee Club without Santana- but she misses, and it shadows all her minutes in all her days, and Brittany is black, black, black.
When Brittany dances, she misses Santana's silliness, misses her own silliness that being around Santana drew out of her. When Brittany sings, she misses the sound of Santana's raspy, smoky voice mingling with hers, caressing hers like the way their bodies mingle and caress. Brittany has no one to smile at and reach for and tug closer while she's dancing. She has no one to sing to. She just feels empty inside, like that poem she read in English class about the tree that used to have birds in it during the summer, but now it's winter and the birds are gone and the tree is empty. Brittany remembers, but she feels so far away from the memories, and it scares her that maybe she's starting to forget.
But then Brittany sees Blaine talking to Sam, sees Finn talking to Miss Pillsbury, and she remembers the reason for her heart loneliness.
Santana is really gone.
Date nights are the worst for Brittany, because Brittany doesn't want to spend Friday nights with Sam. Something about it seems wrong, seems cheap, seems watered-down, and Brittany's scared of replacing her date nights with something else, something like date nights but with less meaning and more wrong, more cheap, more watered-down.
Brittany doesn't spend every Friday night moping at home. Sometimes she goes out, alone, or with her friends (because she and Santana used to do that sometimes) but sometimes she does stay home and mope, like she is now.
It's raining outside, and the weather affects Brittany's mood. She hasn't heard from Santana since the wedding, even though they said they were best friends, and best friends still call each other, don't they?
(They can never be just best friends.)
Brittany stares at her phone, debating. She doesn't want to bother Santana, and maybe Santana is still aching as much as Brittany is, or maybe Santana's moved on and met someone else (but then she would've said so on Facebook, right?) or maybe Santana found a job and she's just been busy, or maybe Santana doesn't want to be best friends, doesn't want to be just best friends.
(They can never be just best friends.)
Brittany chews her lip, debates, debates, hits the Call button and waits.
And waits.
Hi, it's Santana, I'm obviously not available, so-
Brittany sighs, hangs on the sound of Santana's voicemail recording (she hasn't heard Santana's voice since the wedding, and she misses it; it shadows all her minutes in all her days) and panics. Should she leave a message, or-
She hits the End Call button and swallows, feeling her tears surfacing, feeling her throat tightening, feeling her chest ache. This isn't how it's supposed to be.
Brittany takes a deep breath and flops back on her bed, closing her eyes and wishing only for Santana. Brittany closes her eyes and remembers a time when she wasn't a tree in winter, but a summertime tree, full of birds, full of Santana, and she wasn't songless or dance partnerless. She lets a small smile drift to her lips as she remembers the feeling of Santana against her, the feeling of Santana's warm breaths against her neck as she buried her face there.
Brittany traces her fingertips up her own arm, squeezing her eyes shut and thinking Santana, Santana, Santana. She remembers the way Santana would press her full, soft lips to Brittany's neck, how she would whisper in Brittany's ear,
I love you so much
and Brittany would shiver, and turn to Santana and kiss her, and whisper back,
I love you, too
and then they would kiss some more, and Santana's hand would trace teasing circles on Brittany's firm stomach (Brittany gasps- shivers- as she teases her own stomach) and then Brittany would pull Santana on top of her, and their hips would fit together, and Santana's thigh would press against her (Brittany pushes her palm against her center, trying to find the right pressure, the Santana pressure, and she cants her hips up, moaning) and Santana would thrust and Brittany would bite Santana's bottom lip, tug Santana's bottom lip, and they would kiss and kiss and kiss.
Brittany would feel her center throbbing against Santana (against her hand) and she'd beg Santana please and Santana would respond by pushing two fingers deep inside her (Brittany gasps Santana and arches off the bed) and kissing her jaw (Brittany drops her head to the side, giving herself freely to Santana's lips) and breathing over her skin.
Then, when Brittany got close (Brittany's so close) Santana would tell her,
I love you so much
again, (I love you, Santana) and Brittany would fall apart beneath her, shuddering.
Brittany opens her eyes. She's alone. She's winter again. She chokes back a sob and curls up on her bed, burying her face in her pillow, wishing she could still smell summertime on it.
Santana's really gone.
AND NOW WITH 25% LESS ANGST!
It shadows all her minutes in all her days, and Brittany's so black that she doesn't notice the slight vibration of her phone on the bed beside her, doesn't see Santana's achingly beautiful face, next to her own, flashing on the screen, and when Brittany checks her phone in the morning, it says she has one missed call.
No voicemail.
(Brittany wonders if Santana just wanted to hear her voice, too.)
Hahaha so it's like CHOOSE YOUR OWN ANGST-VENTURE! You can end it at the cry, or you can decide if Santana called her back….
Personally, I hate angst. (SO DAFUQ ARE YOU WRITING IT, STUPID CLOUD?!)
…
Anyways.
Thanks for reading! Review if you feel like it. Also, below is the poem I mentioned, if you're interested in reading it. It's not exactly Brittana, but for whatever reason, the lyric from the Sinead song I used on this chapter reminded me of it so I just went with it.
OKAY WELL GOOD BYE NOW.
See you next week, maybe! :D
"What Lips My Lips Have Kissed"
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what lives have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
-Edna St. Vincent Millay