I just finished this and wanted to get this up as soon as possible!

Just to clear things up before you start- Santana is 100% gay.

But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they're 'bout to choke
God can be funny,
When told he'll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious

(Laughing With - Regina Spektor)

I straightened Rhys' tie, it was a very light blue - just like his eyes. Once I was finished, he spun on his heel and went on chatting with Leonardo as he always did. I smiled at that, they've come to think of each other as best friends. Maybe even brothers. Santana is far from my friend, let alone my sister. Even thinking about that makes me cringe. I smoothed down my own dress, which was a pale yellow. I picked up my white cardigan from the arm of the couch, just as Maribel was coming downstairs.

"Santana won't be joining us," she said, "she doesn't feel well." We nodded in understanding, and she raised her eyebrows and smiled. After releasing a sigh, she spoke again. "I suppose we'd better get going," she chuckled.

We must have looked like an odd bunch. All of us dressed in our sunday best, but each family looking remarkably different from the other. I suppose that's just another thing that I've grown used to, even if the other family is the last family on earth that I'd think to grow accustomed to.

All through Church, I've been thinking about Santana. When I listened to Pastor Davis, I couldn't hear what he was actually saying. All I could hear was him tell Santana to, 'Consider calling the number on these pamphlets.' I've heard rumors about those kinds of places. Rumors about people coming back mentally unstable, or unchanged at all. The longer I sat there, the more I came to despise my Pastor's decision. Who was he to tell Santana how to fix something that probably didn't need fixing. If anything, I need fixing. Or at least some clarity, because I don't know how I feel at all and I could really use some advice. Or at least someone to be there for me.

I squirmed a little in my seat, and glanced down at Rhys, who was too busy whispering with Leo to notice. I looked at my mom, who stared vacantly forward. Then at Maribel, who looked confused. And maybe sad. I can't begin to think why - 'My father, the pastor…' Santana's words echoed in my mind. Suddenly, I didn't want to be there. The church used to be the only place I could go to find peace, but I don't think peace exists at the moment.

Without waiting a second longer, I stood from my seat, mumbling "Pardon me," to the people I passed. I didn't look back when I slipped out of the giant doors, and I ignored it when I could hear momma hissing my name. I don't want to be here, and she doesn't want to make a scene.

The house was eerily quiet when I walked through the front door. I guess I expected Santana's friends to be lounging in in the living room, laughing about anything, and actually enjoying themselves. I saw Santana's car out front, so unless she was picked up, she's here. I treaded up the stairs, and walked a little slower when I heard Santana's voice. I stopped completely beside her door, which was only slightly ajar.

"Right," she said, "um, I turn eighteen in one month. Yes. Mhm." I dared to take a small step forward and peek through her door. She was pacing, with one hand she held her cell phone to her ear, with the other, she held a small pamphlet. "Thank you, Alex. I'll see you soon." When I heard her sigh, I cleared my throat to make my presence known. She jumped in place, then rolled her eyes. "What are you doing here?" I ignored her question.

"Who was that?" I asked as I stepped into her room. It was then that I realized I've never been inside of Santana's room. The walls were painted black, and there was a reggae poster hung over her bed. It smelled like a faint mix of weed and Santana's perfume.

"Nobody," she answered too quickly. "Aren't you supposed to be at church?"

I shrugged, and quickly snatched the two pamphlets from her bed before she could. "Care to explain?" I asked her. She tried to take them, but I took a step back and held them from her reach.

"It's nothing," she tried to take them again, but I didn't let her.

"Santana," I said sadly. She let her arms hang at her sides. "Please, talk to me."

"It's not like you care," she snarled.

"I thought I didn't, but I do. Especially when I think you're about to make a huge mistake -"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Fabray," she seethed. I pursed my lips and thought about the pros and cons of telling her what I do know.

"Pastor Dennis gave you those pamphlets," I said softly. She took her bottom lip between her teeth, then sighed and sat down on her bed. "Listen, I don't know why you'd want to change… well, I do, but I don't think it's worth it. "

"You know nothing," she said under her breath.

"I heard your confession -"

"You had no -"

"I know!" I yelled. We both just stared at each other until I backed down and looked at the floor. "I know," I said softer than before. "And I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted, and appreciated," she smiled sarcastically. It was gone as quickly as it came.

"What?"

"It's what my dad used to tell me to say," she explained. I gave her a small smile, then sat down next to her. We sat there in silence, both avoiding eye contact. I wonder if she's thinking about a lot of things, just like I am. I wonder if she can't think straight. "He said it builds character."

"How did you know?" I blurted. She looked up at me with scrunched eyebrows.

"Hm?"

"You know… that you were - I mean, that you are… " I urged.

"You mean, how did I know that I was -"

"Yes," I nodded, not leaving her enough room to say it out loud.

She looked at me with a strange face for a few seconds, then realized I was serious. "I guess it's something that's always been in the back of my mind. I didn't put a name to it until middle school. Then I didn't talk about it. Then, freshman year of high school, a girl liked me back."

"What about your dad?" I asked quietly.

"He didn't like it," she said nonchalantly. "Nope."

"Why -"

"It's a sin, Quinn," she gritted through her teeth. I deflated a little and wet my lips. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. I sat up a little and smiled cheekily.

"Apology appreciated and accepted," I told her. This earned a small smile.

"Why do you want to know? Won't Sam be upset with you for spending all of this time with me?" She bit. I arched an eyebrow.

"Won't Clint?"

She shrugged. Again, we were thrown into silence that neither of us particularly wanted to fill.

"Santana," I said after a little while. She looked up at me. "Please don't go to those camps."

"Quinn -"

"Promise me you won't go," I said sternly. She shook her head softly.

"I can't promise you that," she told me. In one swift movement, I was close to her and cupping both of her cheeks with my hands. I'm pretty sure I'm not controlling myself anymore, but whoever it is shouldn't stop anytime soon. I have to do this now before I lose my nerve.

"Promise me," I said lowly. Before she could answer, I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers. It didn't take her long to react, and kiss me back. I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, but I remember her sneaking her tongue between my lips, and I embraced it. It could have been minutes or hours, but neither of us were counting. Time only mattered when we heard the thumping of Leo and Rhys running up the stairs. We immediately parted from each other, and I stood from her bed. I cleared my throat. "Your mom said you weren't feeling well," I told her. "Feel better."

I heard her say, "Thank you," quite breathlessly when I walked out of her room.

I looked up at the ceiling, and couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. This is so fucked up, my god, it's almost funny.

Dear Diary,

What have I done? Santana is soft. Her skin, her hair, her lips. Everything. Her words even, sometimes. Dear Diary, who knew a sin's kiss could be softer and sweeter than any other?

Until next time,

Lucy

Santana and I kept our eyes focused on the plates in front of us as we sat at the dinner table. Momma cleared her throat, but I didn't look at her.

"So, why did you run off today?" She asked me. I finished chewing, then looked up at her.

"I didn't feel well," I lied. She nodded, but still looked skeptical. I glanced at Santana, "I must have caught whatever she has." Santana coughed, nearly spitting out the water that she'd started to drink, and I bit back a smile.

"We'll have to pick up some medicine, what are your symptoms?" Maribel asked us.

"Headache," I said truthfully.

"Stomach pains," Santana said at the same time.

Maribel eyed us wearily, "Right," she said. With one last look at Santana, I put my head back down and continued to eye my food. I didn't miss the looks that Momma kept giving me.

I don't think sleep is even an option tonight. Santana is the only thing on my mind. I've always that that… same sex couples were just weird. Not wrong. I always wondered why they felt the why they did, but now I know. It's because of people like Santana. The people who know how to creep into the corner of your mind, bring their own little couch, and sleep there for as long as they'd like just so that you'd always think about them. Their lips are softer than anything else in the world. They are so charming that it's almost annoying, and they know how attractive they are. Those people make the world spin.

The sound of my door opening is what ripped me away from my thoughts, and I nearly started panicking when I saw Santana standing there.

"I didn't scream," I told her after a few tense seconds. She looked at me and took her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I know," she said. Then, with a few strides towards me, she was soon hovering over me, looking down at me like I was something to be admired. "Tell me to stop," she said in a voice so softly that I wasn't really sure if I imagined it. I kept my mouth closed. After a split second, she pressed her lips against mine. This one wasn't slow like it was earlier; this kiss was rushed and hard, but at the same time, the softest in the world. We kissed until our lips were sore, then she laid beside me, panting the same way I was. When I was fairly sure she wasn't going to say anything, I let my eyes close. "Good night, Quinn," she whispered. I'm pretty sure I said it back, if not, I gave her hand a little squeeze.

This time when I woke up, Santana wasn't there. I yawned and stretched my arms, then slipped out of my bed. There was no evidence. There was nothing to prove that last night or yesterday wasn't just some weird dream, and I don't know how I feel about that. I wish I could just ask someone how I'm supposed to feel, just for some clarity. I fixed my clothes and went to the bathroom, then scrunched my nose at my appearance. My hair was long and messy, but easy to comb through.

Soon enough, I was tightening my high pony, then adjusting the skirt of my uniform. I eyed myself in the mirror, and was reminded of how different Santana and I are. If anyone finds out about last night… I can't even fathom the thought. I walked to the kitchen, and was met with the sight of Santana sliding a pancake on her her brothers plate, and Rhys trying very hard to talk with his mouth full without spitting anything out.

"Morning Quinn," Leo, who spotted me first, greeted. I gave him a tight lipped smile and avoided eye contact with Santana.

"Santana bought whip cream," Rhys said excitedly, "so we can make funny face pancakes!" Santana glanced at me before retrieving another can of whip cream from the refrigerator and placing it in front of me. "Did you sleep well?" My brother asked me.

"I did," I said quietly.

"That's good. I haven't had a bad dream in a few days," he told me with a cheeky smile.

"I didn't have one last night," I admitted. Santana smiled and took her bottom lip between her teeth. I cleared my throat. "Did Momma leave?" I asked. Rhys nodded.

"A while ago," he told me. "Said she had to talk to Mr. Wilson." I nodded. Eric Wilson has been our lawyer how years, and sort of a father figure for Rhys.

"That's good," I thought out loud.

"Since she's meeting with him, does that mean we're moving soon?" Rhys asked. I shrugged. "I hope not," he said, "I like it here."

"We have to move some day."

"No we don't. Right Santana?" I smiled at him - he figured if he had enough people on his side, we could live here forever. I, on the other hand, know that it wouldn't be right. Even if I'd like it to be.

"Who knows?" Santana said softly, interrupting my train of thought. "Who am I taking to school today?"

"I need a ride," I said carefully. "And Rhys and Leo do too," I added quickly. She nodded and clicked her tongue.

"No problem," she breathed.

She looked at me expectantly when we pulled up to the usual place that was a short distance away from the school. I pursed my lips. This feels like some sort of a test. If I get out here, last night didn't happen. If I get out in the school's parking lot with her, last night wasn't just a dream. My hand hovered above my seat belt, then hardly grazed it when I let it rest on my lap.

"I don't feel like walking," I explained shyly. She nodded, and gave me a small, dimpled smile. When she started the car again, I wet my lips and stared straight ahead.

"You've been seen giving me a ride, and now you're about to be seen getting out of my car," she commented.

"Yeah," I answered softly.

"Listen -" we both started. She chuckled, then motioned for me to go on. I cleared my throat. "Listen," I said again, "I don't… I don't know what's…"

"Quinn, let me stop you right there," she said, "I'm not expecting a relationship." I let out a sigh, but I'm not sure if it was out of relief or disappointment. "And whatever you're figuring out about yourself - I know we're not friends per say - but I'm here. Partly because I feel bad for you, and -" That last part caught me off guard.

"Bad for me?" I asked.

"Well yeah," she shrugged. "You thought that you had everything figured out. Marry some guy, maybe Sam, have a few kids, and go to Church every Sunday. Picket fence and all, you'd live the perfect life. Now, you're thinking about me, maybe just girls in general -"

"Stop talking," I said through my teeth.

"And you don't know what to -"

"Stop!"

"- do because you might be gay." She finished. I glared straight ahead. "And you have no one to talk to about it, because I'm the only one that knows. So yeah, I feel a little bad for you." My chest feels heavy. Something about her saying it all out loud made it real. I looked out the window, and saw that a few people were openly gawking. I suppose seeing Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez in the same car seems a little odd. I chuckled bitterly, if only they knew. If only they could hear us.

"Thanks for the ride," I mumbled as I slid out of her car.

"Clint is gay," she added just before I closed the door. I opened it again and cocked my head to the side. "Capital G, gay."

"Then why are you dating him?"

She smiled dryly. "Haven't you ever heard of a beard?"

I nodded dumbly, then proceeded to close the door and walk towards the Jocks and Cheerios. I have never been so unsure about something, and It's absolutely terrifying.

It's all about progress. I hope that you liked this chapter better than the last. Until next time! (which shouldn't be too far away.)