After All This Time Chapter 14, a glee fanfic

Title: After All This Time
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 10.1k

Summary: See, you've never really been one for bright ideas. Sure, you're phenomenal at revenge plans and being a total bitch, but when it comes to genuinely decent ideas, you're lacking to say the least. But this one? This one could actually work.

Notes: Maybe I'll do a Brittany POV after I've finished of the three months, but it's kind of necessary to keep that under wraps right now. No more spoilers ;)

You meet up with Puck and Artie in a small café in Manhattan the next day.

You shared a few texts, with Puck obviously stealing Artie's phone and asking if you could bring Mercedes as he hasn't ticked Africa off his sexual conquest around the world, but you just tell him to familiarise himself with his fist as she doesn't date skinny guys and is currently involved with one of the security guys called Tank. Not to mention she straight up rejected him to his face, but he didn't seem to get it. There's no more speak of it after, and Artie apologises when he gets his phone back before you tell him it's okay.

Anyway, you sit at the café, having brunch that consists of pancakes, bacon, and an offensive amount of syrup for Puck, with them and it's good. The conversation flows without much mention of anything sensitive, Puck doesn't make half as many dirty jokes as you expect and before you know it, Artie's paying for the cheque whilst peeing and you're approaching the part where you go your separate ways again, get back to your own lives and hometowns. Their flight is in a couple hours, and as much as it saddens you, you know this is the life you've got now, and it's been being around them again.

It's filled a hole in your chest you didn't know was there.

(Well, you did, you just thought it was entirely occupied by someone else.)

"It's been great seeing you, Santana," Artie says as Puck sparks up a cigarette on the sidewalk, all of you heading out the café. "Found a little bit of home in the Big Apple," he chuckles.

You bob your head, joining in. You know the feeling. "Been good seeing you, too, Artie," you reply and bump your fist against his shoulder, smiling. "Let's not leave it so long, next time."

He grins at you. "I have your number now, so I can bother you relentlessly until you see me," he retorts, and you hear the underlying jibe there, which you're still feeling really bad about. When you left, you didn't think about who else you were leaving, and you laugh despite the guilt thrumming through your core. "Which leads me to this," he continues, and you lift your vision from the sidewalk back to him, narrowing your eyes. He doesn't carry on though, instead taking the moment to reach inside his jacket and pulls out a bit of paper that you realise is–

"This is a plane ticket," he states and yeah, you can see that. "It's a flexible return," he continues, and you bite down on your tongue, resisting the urge to bark at him that you need him to hurry up his explanation because you think you already know where this is going. "But I've gotta fess up first… We didn't come randomly," he admits and your entire body stills, breath catching in your throat as your eyes slide between them, but Puck's not paying attention. "We heard you were here through a friend."

You clench your jaw, trying to connect the dots in your mind and you think you know how he caught wind of it. The fact Cassie knew Blaine Anderson was a huge warning sign, but you chose to ignore it because that's the attitude most people have nowadays – red flags are basically invisible – but you should've thought more on it. It was only last night that you found out, and you don't know how Cassie fits into this – was she was just played like a pawn piece in a chess game? – but you think that you were brought up in conversation somewhere along the line and then word spread to Kurt, who went to Artie or Puck or whatever.

There's a connection there somewhere, but it's hard to focus on that when all you can think about is whether she knows you're here. If these guys do, then she might and it breaks your heart in a way you didn't expect when you consider that she didn't come, despite knowing your whereabouts.

"We want to finish up this movie, Santana," Artie says, and you can see the seriousness in his eyes and hear it in his tone. It's the same voice he used to use when you were going over rewrites or he was on the phone to suppliers and whatnot, but that doesn't quell the unease in your stomach. "We want your expertise on it because it doesn't have that thang it had when you were there."

With a thickened throat, you gulp loudly and shift uncomfortably in your spot. You knew there was something more to this, and you knew there was a reason why neither of them brought up the thing you don't talk about, but it was obviously a carefully crafted idea, so you didn't run away, like you did before. It was a carefully concocted plan, and you could be mad at them, but you know Artie and have done for a long time now, and he's not a bad guy. Maybe a little naïve, but he's kind and has a good soul and you know he's made the effort to come and find you when you didn't want to be found.

He sought you out, hunted you down and now has you here right where he wanted you, lingering on the sidewalk with a plane ticket staring back at you and you're trying to think of reasons why you shouldn't go back. You're trying to not give into the excitement brewing within at the possibility that within a couple of hours, you could be right back in Ohio, even though you could've done that the entire time, but you didn't know if you were wanted.

You didn't know if you'd be turned away as soon as you arrived, but after spending a couple hours with them today, and the brief time you had last night, you know that's not the case. Apparently, the entire crew stuck together as friends after, always making sure to go out for drinks once a month regardless of how busy their lives got – most of them started actual careers after your little pornographic venture – and they've all been asking if anyone's heard from you, so you know it wouldn't be too bad to go back.

Except you also know if you return, that specific friendship group has someone else in it that you haven't quite prepared yourself to see. You don't know how you could ever prepare for that, even if she had come with them to find you – if she even knows – and your hesitation over your thoughts must show because Artie wheels closer, earning your attention immediately and grabs for your hand, squeezing gently.

"She doesn't know we're here," he whispers, and you release a breath you didn't know you were holding. His eyes search yours, allowing you to see that he's genuine and you almost cry at the sight, sucking in your bottom lip when it quivers. "I didn't know how either of you would feel about it," he adds on in the same low tone and you don't like the way it spikes beneath your skin.

But it's also what you need to hear to make your decision, because without that information, you'd probably end up declining his offer and wasting more of his money, and the least you can do after disappearing to Timbuktu for three months with radio silence is do this one thing for him. If you can help him finish up the movie you started, then you could not only pay him back financially but emotionally as well and make amends before returning to New York. He did say the ticket was flexible return, but it's still a return that you need to know is yours before you can accept.

(You think that was also pre-empted.)

"Okay," you finally reply, nodding your head as your body tenses, the realisation of what you've just agreed to slamming into you. But it doesn't choke you, or make you burst out into tears, instead you feel a strange relief and sigh loudly as you flash a small smile at Puck who grins proudly, inhaling a long drag of his cigarette, pleased by your answer.

You're going home.

You make up an excuse about a family emergency at home to get out of work.

In the changing room, when you're packing up a few necessities from your locker, Mercedes calls you out on the lie and you confess that you're going back to see some friends, but that Cassie wouldn't let you go or a personal trip. She promises not to tell anyone and slaps your ass on the way out, telling you to have a good time and not to be too long as you make her a lot of money, and you make your own promise, to yourself and her, that you won't be.

You can't be. You already know the longer you stay there, the more tempted you will be to remain there.

So it'll be brief, but you'll do what you need to and before you know it, you're swinging your bag over your shoulder and sliding into a large cab with Puck and Artie, heading straight for the airport.

The flight is short, a little under two hours and you're touching down in Columbus by sunset.

Then you take a Puck's truck back to Lima, which takes another hour or so, but he drives insanely fast and then in a flash, you're rolling through familiar streets, staring at the old grocery store you used to steal fruit from back in high school, and the dentist that pulls teeth instead of fixing them, the memories clutching at your heart until there's heat prickling behind your eyelids. You've only been gone three months, but it feels like a lifetime and it's beginning to dawn on you that you never got out of here because it's a small town, and nobody ever really leaves, but you managed to.

It hits you harder than you think. But it's only when you're pulling up outside Artie's house – the same one you had a house party at when you were 17, throwing toilet paper over the awning and porch steps – that you inhale deeply and for the first time in months, the entirety of your lungs fill with clean oxygen. Since you've been in New York, you haven't felt this at home, always being anxious and scared of being a little fish in a big ass pond, and you lean against the glass of the window, staring up at Artie's mom's place for a long moment to let the feeling sink in.

You'd like to say that it's the difference between an overcrowded, dirty city, versus a green, hillbilly town but you know it's not.

This place is just your home. Always has been and always will be.

No matter how much you wish it wasn't, due to the bad memories it now holds.

"I'm gonna go hit Sugar up," Puck announces when the ignition flicks off, throwing his arm over the back of your passenger seat. "I'm kind of hitting that now on the regs," he shrugs, and you can tell how proud he is that he bagged such a hottie. You're happy for him, and you shake your head but laugh, rolling your eyes, remembering how Sugar yearned for Puck to even spare a glance her way three months ago.

"Good luck, Puckerman," you say and punch him lightly in the shoulder, peering into the back seat to see Artie preparing his wheelchair so he can get out. "Mind if I crash at yours tonight?"

Artie bobs his head and pauses his movement. "Already called my mom," he replies, and you smile at him, thankful for his preparation. You hadn't even thought about where you were staying until now. "I'm gonna be picking your brains until you want to kill me."

It's what you came here for, so you accept without another word and a small chuckle and slide out the truck, opening up the cab in the back to help Artie get out, Puck joining to lift him from the seat. He adjusts himself once he's in the chair, hands shooting to his wheel as he gets himself up the pathway towards his house, waving Puck goodbye with one hand and shouting a thanks. You hug the guy with the mohawk, thanking him for the ride and for coming to New York for you, and he slaps your ass as you follow Artie and walk towards the house, chortling to himself as he gets back in his truck.

You just flip him off and head inside.

So, as it turns out, Artie is considerably more of a nerd than you initially thought.

You always assumed he was into comics and video games, but after saying hello to his mom, he steers you towards the basement and you take the stairs whilst he gets into the chairlift, aiding him by carrying his wheelchair with you. He thanks you and you help him get back into it before he wheels himself through a doorway and it's like stepping into fucking Narnia. You had this pre-emptive thought that it'd be dark and creepy and filled with superhero themed mannequins with weird costumes, but it's the total opposite.

It's like looking into a spaceship, with blue lights everywhere and a whole load of technology stacked up over the far side. It's tidy as hell, no crumb or speck to be seen anywhere and for a second, you wonder if he uses this as a den and a murder room, because it's just too clean, but the thought is quickly erased when you see a figure in the corner, sitting on a large, white egg chair, but they're concealed by the darkness so you can't make out who it is.

You slow your walk, unsure if you're going to call the police and tear this intruder a new asshole, but Artie is aware of the person's presence and takes himself over to the row of screens, reaching out to tap a plastic dome on the far side of the desk and tapping it. A light turns on overhead, and you squint against it, but when you manage to regain the ability to see and blink away the sting at your eyes, your mouth drops open as you take in the now illuminated figure.

It's Kurt.

"Kurt?" You say, more of a statement than a question and said man rises from the chair, looking put together with a neck scarf and a perfectly ironed shirt, and you don't know whether you should run back upstairs or stand here and take whatever reaction is about to come. His face is completely blank, his eyes narrowed but his body language is completely off, arms crossed, and hip cocked out to the side in a way his head is, too as it takes you in, from head to foot.

"Santana," Kurt replies slowly, like he's feeling the way your name rolls of his tongue after not speaking it for so long. You think it's manufactured to come across like that, and well, it's not exactly undeserved so you won't snap back. "Thought you had fallen off the edge of the Earth."

He's not screaming at you like you thought he would, so you're already doing better than imagined and so you're going to test the waters and see how far his claws are out. "You think there's an edge to the Earth?" You fire back and tilt your head to the side to match the way he's looking at you. "Now that explains a lot about your choice of fashion."

For a long second, you think Kurt's going to scoff at your teasing or even lash out, but he just holds your gaze for about three seconds before breaking out into a grin and dropping his arms by his side, coming over to you with them held out. It's entirely welcome – you genuinely thought he'd smack you for just up and leaving with no contact for three months – but you guess he's already processed the anger.

Maybe even to the point where he can miss you, like you miss him because you had a weirdly good bond with the guy. Had it not been for her, you could've considered Kurt to be your best friend. He always understood you and maybe that's why you sink into his embrace, returning the hug he gives you and allowing yourself a moment of joy.

You haven't had a lot of them in the past three months.

Ten minutes later, Artie's mom – Nancy – brings down a tray of coffee and biscuits, and Artie goes all red in the face.

Both you and Kurt thank her, and she tells you how pretty you are, and you watch Kurt interact with her and realise what else you've been missing over the past three months. Social media can only go so far, and you watch as Artie's mom tells Kurt to go and grab a new spoon for the sugar when she drops it, and you realise they've obviously spent a lot of time together. Even to the point where they've built a friendship between them, and it's hard not to notice in a way that makes you feel like an outsider, but you did it to yourself and it's nice that their lives kept going.

Not that you thought they'd stop when you left, but after hearing the movie didn't get finished, you were responsible for anything bad that happened thereafter.

Luckily, that doesn't seem the case and so you enjoy it as Nancy pinches Artie's cheek, and Kurt laughs and tells her she's too much. But after a couple of minutes, the older woman says goodbye and heads back up with a wink shot your way, and Artie pours the coffees as Kurt offers out the biscuits, which you take one of. You didn't eat on the plane or in the car ride, so you're kind of peckish.

"You want a sandwich or something?" Kurt offers and you look to him, then Artie. It's not his house, but you guess they're that close. "I can ask Nancy to whip one up for you."

You shake your head but smile. "No, I'm good thank you," you reply and chew your lip, still feeling out of sorts because you're here for a reason, and it's not coffee and biscuits. The equipment is intimidating, staring at you from the other side of the room, and you don't know why they couldn't finish it if Artie's in to all this crap. His expertise alone should've been enough. You can't even name half the shit piled on top of the wide desk covering half the place. "What do you need me for then?"

They share a brief look before Artie sets his coffee down from his lap on to the table again, before even drinking any, and wheels backwards towards the desk. You don't know why, but the way he does it is so careful, you think it's on purpose and you spare a glance at Kurt whose eyes are focused on Artie and him switching on the screens and confirm it. You're kind of glad they're being hesitant, as that's one of the many things you're feeling in this moment, but you're alarmingly aware you're only here for a limited period of time.

Which has yet to be decided, but it's going to be brief. You've only asked to stay over at Artie's house for one night, and you know prolonging your visit will only end in your resistance to talk about a certain someone chipping away, hour by hour, until there's nothing left.

About seven screens flick on, all with various logo's and lighting, but Artie taps at the keyboard of the main one, positioned in the centre of the desk. It's larger than the rest by about ten inches, and you're impressed as the guy clicks away, bringing up various images and applications like a video editor and one with lighting adjustments. You don't know what half the stuff does, or even means, but you guess it's the reason you're here, so you'll find out.

"Impressed?" Kurt asks, and you look at him, realising he's been watching you for at least ten seconds and seeing the awe in your expression.

"Yeah, I didn't know he was this deep into it," you reply with a shrug and take a sip of your coffee as Artie finishes what he's doing and spins around in his chair, at the same time Kurt climbs to his feet and wanders over to him, resting his butt against the desk to face you.

It feels like you're in the principal's office at school, about to get told off by the department head and principal, but they're both looking at you with this softness you don't really understand. You thought it was from not seeing you for such a long time, but the longer you stare at it, the more you're convinced there's more to it than meets the eye. But not in like, a bad way, because you haven't got that itching in the back of your skull or heaviness forming in your stomach.

"I've been going to night school," Artie announces, and you frown, unsure why the information was relevant, but smile. Good for him. "See, after you offered to make this film," he continues and wheels down the small ramp to get to you, stopping in front and placing his hands in his lap. "I realised what I wanted to do with my life, and I've decided to make a career out of it," he says and your face breaks into a proud smile. "All because of you."

The smile drops from your face as you realise what he's doing and saying. He's telling you that you're the reason for his development. That you heavily influenced the path he took in life, steering him towards a career he wants and loves and that's a lot for someone of your age. You're only 24, and whilst you ran away from everything, it seems you didn't leave without making a mark and you begin choking up at the thought.

"I mean, after all the work with costumes and the sets," Kurt chimes in and your eyes snap to him as he holds up his coffee cup toward you, in a small cheer. "I knew I wanted to go into fashion and now I'm moving to New York in a few months to be an assistant to the assistant to the head bitch at Vogue," he explains, and something grips tight inside your chest. Something you think to be affection, and partial excitement that you might not be alone in the big city for much longer. "Which isn't half bad for a small-town gay from Bumfuck, Ohio," he jokes. "Sam's coming to the city to model, too," he adds on with a lift of his shoulder. "He may be dumb, but he sure is pretty."

You let out a laugh, feeling your throat thicken as you listen to him. He pushes off the desk and wanders down the ramp, stopping beside Artie who's looking at you with that damn softness again and for a second, you wonder if they've planned this intervention – if that what it even is – regardless of the ramifications it'll have. You can't stay here, so you don't really get why they're doing this and nothing's going to change that. Your life is in New York now and it won't be half as bad if Kurt's coming in a few months.

"Even Dani's working on her music after helping with it in the editing," Kurt continues with a shrug, like it's not much but you know it is. Everyone's doing things after being hired by you, and they're using it to better themselves. "She wrote a song for the intro for our film," he juts his chin towards the screens, and you narrow your focus on one particular one, reading Body Say. There's a cover on it too, with Dani posing on a white bed, in a black satin camisole and a thong.

"The point is, Santana," Artie decides to speak up and reaches over to grab your hand, patting the back of it, tearing your attention away from the screens. "Is that you've lead us all down paths we never even knew were possibilities," he goes on and heat begins prickling at the back of your eyelids. God, you're going to freaking cry. "You inspired us," he smiles as he says it and squeezes your hand. "All the others are doing so well in their own lives now, even without this film," he gestures back to the large screens, and you can see the title of it in large white writing, spread across several of them now, as if you're about to watch a movie in the cinema and you panic, even if you knew it would have to be done by what Artie said in New York. "But we owe it to ourselves to see what we could've done together, as a group, you know?"

You do know. You've spent many hours thinking about how much you let everyone down, but back then you assumed that they'd produced, edited and created the final cut of the film and you just weren't aware of it. It's not like you went looking for it either, just sticking to the anonymous stalking of social media profiles and getting your hit from small updates of your friends and what they were doing back here, back home, but you were in a different mindset then, thinking the total opposite.

So it brings curiosity. It makes you want to know why they couldn't do it, if you inspired them because the only thing that wasn't there was your physical presence. You left everything else behind, all your notes, all the little scribbles on the scripts and even the alterations you made to the some of the outfits that contributed to the making of the movie. You barely took anything from your freaking apartment, too scared it would remind you of what you'd walked away from and not wanting constant reminders of the life you used to have, so if you weren't there, that could've been enough.

"So, my offer is…" Artie trails off and wheels himself back up the ramp to the computer, hand hovering over the keyboard with his pointer finger out. "Is that you watch this final cut, and we go over it – just once – and see what you can add to it."

The offer still strikes fear into your chest, cold and hard because you know what's in that film.

You know you were in one of the scenes, and okay, there's like six or so other scenes that you didn't star in, but that one and potentially one other are going to be super fucking hard to watch and you're not sure how you're going to handle that. You haven't even let your mind wander back to the small bits of information you had on the scene you weren't there for, but you knew that someone was in it, and you couldn't bring yourself to picture that mentally. You already had a plethora of memories of your own, with her face twisted in pleasure, burnt into your mind and so to see that with someone else… You're not sure how you're going to do it.

But you do owe them this. You owe them your final opinion and maybe it's what you need to kickstart that adrenaline when you had first left, so it'll propel you into going back quicker. There's already a lingering doubt that you can't ignore, scratching at the back of your brain, considering what it'd be like to come back here permanently, and that's the part that'll grow the longer you're here.

So fuck it. You've only got to do this once and it could help.

"Okay," you breathe, your chest getting that heavy feeling now, and Kurt's face twists with shock, as well as Artie's, but they don't bother asking again before Kurt's getting you a pen and paper and Artie's hitting the play button and turning the lights down low.

Most of the scenes are as you remember them.

They've been edited, with cuts and different angles and you smile even though it's kind of weird to smile whilst watching a porno, but you don't feel weird about it. It's like looking at a nude painting because you're appreciating the work that went in behind it instead of focusing on the physical movement. But the more you watch it, the more you don't understand why they needed your touch. It's clearly been edited perfectly, and each scene has the right amount of time in it and the whole thing flows in terms of scene shifts and transitions, so you don't get what's missing.

And you're about to ask after watching the fifth scene, the black screen darkening the room for a brief few seconds, but then you hear the intro music and a specific voice and the blood drains from your face.

"Oh, that sounds like a delivery."

Your entire body freezes, the breath catching in your throat as you watch the next scene begin to unfold, but it's odd as it's shot from a totally different angle to the one you've seen before. Whilst being on that chair, you go to see what the camera saw, so you remembered the other scenes when watching them like you had before. But this one… This one is different because you know you weren't on that chair. You know that you weren't behind Artie being rolled back and forth or holding one of the microphones overhead… You were in it.

You were waiting in the wings, trying to calm yourself down and clicking your neck in unnatural angles as you'd been tensing them that day, waiting for your turn to shoot. You were sitting on the side-lines, listening to her voice and how it was wavering from nerves and wanting nothing more than to comfort her. You were standing in the darkness, eagerly anticipating crossing a line that you'd dreamt of for years and years, but terrified at the same time and you don't know how you got from that to this.

Now you're a whole different type of nervous, wondering if Artie and Kurt have set you up and that person is going to crash the showing you're having now.

But you can't tear your gaze away as you watch the scene play out in front of you, or even bring yourself to care about anything else. What you're watching is enamouring.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

The next thing you see is yourself, stepping out from the back of the set, into the light and squinting. You want to laugh, remembering how freaking bright those lights were at the time, but you're far too caught up in watching her – who at the time, you couldn't see initially due the shift in brightness – now on the screen, her eyes widening and mouth dropping open as she takes you in. You see it from a completely different point of view and for a few seconds, you have to look away because you can see how she's lingering over your body, trailing her eyes from your head to your feet and back again like she's never seen anything like you.

Something's now lodging in your throat, and you're shifting in your seat like you're uncomfortable but you're not. You can just feel the impending pressure of what's been playing over and over in your mind for months now, becoming a reality and literally staring right back at you.

"I have a big package for you…"

You cringe, dragging your eyes back to the screen but it doesn't seem as cringey when you focus on the blonde again on screen. She's not even listening to you, the dazed look in her eyes obvious to you from the other side of the screen and you gulp against it. How didn't you notice that at the time?

Still, it doesn't matter because that was then, and this is now, and you haven't seen her in longer than… Ever, actually. Three months feels like three years now, and you know you could try to blame it on creating a life in a totally unfamiliar city, but you know it's because you haven't seen those blue eyes or smelt her skin in too long now. It was something you never truly appreciated when you had it, but the irony isn't lost on you.

You return your attention back to the screen, and unlike the previous scenes you watched, your pen hasn't touched the piece of paper. You're totally focused on watching the other side of things, the other side of the memory imprinted into your mind like a dream you can't forget, and you don't know what you could even comment. You're coming up blank.

"Do you have any… other big packages for me?"

The words make fear spike beneath your skin, but in a couple of seconds you're about to watch where the action really starts, and it started with a kiss and that scares you more than anything.

Because it was a kiss that made everything in your life come to life. A kiss that was passionate, sensitive, caring and quite unlike anything else you'd ever experienced, and you've only been watching a few minutes, but it's already totally opposite of the others. There was discomfort and a touch of awkwardness in the other ones that isn't in this one, and you can't stop staring as on screen, the blonde is now pressed up against you, and you're starting to understand what Holly meant when she came over and told you it was passionate.

You haven't even touched anything but clothed bodies yet, and you feel the need to look away when you see yourself and the blonde on screen, leaning in towards each other. It feels like you're right back in time in your head, sucking your lips into your mouth as you remember leaning in and not having the confidence to close the gap. You were so fucking scared of kissing Brittany that you even gave yourself a pep talk whilst you were moving in for the kill.

But when you see your lips meet on screen, you don't know why but you can't stop staring as it happens.

There's no awkward hesitation. The on screen you doesn't even flinch, but you see the way your body sinks into the blonde and how your hands find their places on each other's bodies like they've always been there. Both your heads tilt and the kiss deepens, and you force your gaze away as the heat prickles at your eyelids, and now at your lips, like your body is remembering the tingles that coursed through it when you kissed her for the first time.

You remember everything about it. How you dragged your nails up her ribs, and how she mewled into your mouth as her tongue pushed into it, curving around your teeth. You remember how the blonde dragged her hands between you, back of her hand running down the centre of your abs before grabbing boldly at you through your shorts. You remember that intensity, that fire that scorched across your skin when you glanced into her eyes, seeing that she wanted more but she was unsure.

But you weren't.

In that moment, when you were staring deeply into the bluest ocean, you'd never felt more comfortable, safe or sure. It was like all the fear you'd built up in preparation just seeped away, with one single glance and you don't look at the screen because you remember what happened next. She dropped to her knees, and you remember stroking her hair away from her face – pretending it was for the camera – but it was because you wanted to savour that moment when she tasted you for the first time.

Little did you know then, it would change everything.

Not just because you were finally crossing that line – making out is one thing, but oral was a step too far for just friends – but because your bodies would know how compatible they were. Your chemistry would explode into a million fireworks and blur all the lines you'd spent years and years building in a platonic manner. It would twist every look you gave her from then on, knowing that she was staring into your eyes when she was doing other things and it would be a constant reminder every damn time from there on.

She knew how to work you. She knew how to turn you on like a fucking light switch and exactly what suction, motion, and combo you liked, and you don't know how, even after three months of thinking about it. You still can't figure out how your bodies knew each other before your minds did, as if you'd met in a past life or a different world because it must have been that. There must have been parts of your soul that met in the past and the remnants continued into this life, where you found each other again.

Because it was a connection like never before. It was chemistry that couldn't be created, just discovered and that was the hardest part about all of this.

How did you know all of that, but she didn't? Did she not feel the same as you?

Because you're watching it. You're now staring at the screens, jaw clenched as you watch the blondes head bob between your legs and how you have to break it off, as it was dangerously threatening your stamina. You're seeing as you stroke your finger beneath her chin and smile – too softly for a scene like that – and steer her towards the counter, kissing each other deeply again as she hikes herself up on to the counter and you're the one to drop to your knees this time.

She was there. You're fucking watching it and you screw your face up, not understanding how she couldn't feel it if even watching it on playback, you can feel it. You're pretty sure Kurt and Artie can too as they're shifting awkwardly in their seats, scratching their faces and making a point to look away and they haven't done that with any of the other scenes. Their attention was solely focused, and it runs circles in your brain when Dani reminded you, the night of that damn wrap party, how everyone knew there was something between you and Brittany, and not just from this scene.

But apparently you were the only one brave enough to admit it, if she even felt the same as you.

Which, she said, she didn't.

Well, not in so many words, but she went on to do the scene with Sam and that's a good enough response. That's evidence enough that she didn't feel it or value it the way you did, because standing there, with everyone surrounding you the night you left, you poured your heart out and told her you felt something. You threw caution to the wind and exposed yourself, asking her if she knew it was a something and not a nothing, but she didn't agree.

She just left you in the dust, so you did the same just in a different way.

Before you can tell yourself to, and before the scene can progress to the last part, you're up on your feet, throwing your notepad and pen down on the chair you've just vacated and heading straight toward the screen. You flick off the button you saw Artie flick on a couple of hours ago, and it goes blank immediately, leaving you in silence and you realise how heavily you're breathing as you brace yourself against the desk, hanging your head down.

You couldn't watch it anymore. You just couldn't see the moment where you have actual sex, because the messing around was painful enough.

You didn't realise until right now, trying to find some grounding as you wait up by the desk, neither of the guys behind you speaking or asking what you're doing, how tight your chest is. How restricted your breathing is and you take another long moment, eyes squeezed shut as you tell yourself to breathe properly. There's no fucking oxygen around you and you know the other two aren't feeling the same. Kurt didn't even flinch when watching his own scenes with Spencer and Sam, and you've just got up and turned the damn thing off.

How are you going to explain this?

"Santana?" Kurt chirps softly, and you hear the sound of him getting up and footsteps padding behind you until the air shifts and he's within touching distance. He doesn't touch you though, just lingers behind and you take in a deep, shaky breath, your fingertips buzzing at the aftermath of your blood surging around your body as you twist around, folding your arms across your chest. You're hoping that'll calm you down.

"I'm fine," you hiss out, not even waiting for him to ask and gulp thickly, blinking away a few tears that threaten to spill as you meet his eye. "I just... I can't watch it."

Artie takes this as his cue to wheel up, tilting his head as he applies the brakes when he stops beside Kurt. "If it helps… No-one's been able to get through it either," he says, and for a second, you're confused, but then you glance at Kurt who pinches his mouth up at the side and you understand, your mouth dropping open. "Felt like we were watching something we shouldn't," he adds on through a light chuckle, but you don't return it, dropping your eyes to the ground.

You don't want to hear it. You don't want them to remind you that you've had the same reaction as everyone else because everyone was fucking aware of the intensity in the scene. No-one could watch it because it was a moment shared between two people with a genuine connection, and it pisses you off because they fucking could see it. Apparently everyone else besides Brittany fucking could and it's beginning to break your heart all over again.

You're only one scene away from the end though. You're close to the finishing line now you're choosing to skip the rest of your own, and you know that the next one is going to suck in a totally different way, but it's a means to an end. It's like the final part of ripping off a band-aid. The end is always the worst, catching on hairs and shit and this one is going to be the same, only emotionally. It's going to sting, and you guess in some ways it could be worse, because you've only got images that you've conjured up in your head. Your worst nightmare is about to present itself on the big fucking screen and imprinting in your mind, where it'll stay, tormenting you until the day you die.

But you agreed to do this. That last scene, then you can give your opinion and be on the next flight back to New York. You've come this far, and you can't take it back, and you quickly return to your seat, grasping the pen and pad on your lap and looking back to Kurt and Artie, who are still stood at the computer but staring at you with confusion. You can't blame them. Two seconds ago, you were borderline panic attack and now you're staring at them blankly, wanting to get a move on with the next scene.

"What?" You ask, breaking the silence and they share a quick, quizzical glance before Kurt folds his arms and takes a few steps towards you.

"Don't you have anything else to say about it?"

You clench your jaw, wondering why Kurt thinks it's a good idea to pester you about something you just switched off, but you're trying to remain neutral about this, even if every part of your body is about to go into a nervous breakdown. That's why you can't talk about it. You're barely holding yourself together as is and you thought they both would've understood that, if no-one else could watch it. How would you be able to when it just reminds you of everything that broke your heart?

"We'll go over my notes after the last scene," you reply with a shrug and Artie snaps his head around to Kurt who does the same, and now you're feeling like you're being left out of something as they have a silent conversation with their eyes.

What did you say that warrants a reaction like that? Or have you got the wrong end of the stick and he's not asking you if you're going to comment on your sex scene with Brittany. Something you obviously want to avoid discussing as bar your recent actions, but he's kind of a jackass so you wouldn't put it passed him.

Kurt's the one to reply, after a long moment though and he carefully turns his gaze back to you. "That… was… the last scene," he replies, really fucking slowly that you hear his voice go into a slow-motion one in your head, his mouth moving an equal pace, but your mind doesn't process it until he takes a step forward and continues. "There's nothing else."

Your body stills, as do your lungs, and your head cocks to the side immediately, like a dog does to their owner because you feel the same. You don't understand what they're saying to you and your eyebrows push together in the middle of your forehead as your eyes flit between Artie, then Kurt, then back to Artie and then to the now black screen.

"What?" You ask breathlessly.

Artie releases his brakes and rolls down the ramp, coming to stop in front of you and Kurt takes a seat beside, so they're kind of cornering you. "That's why we need your special touch," he explains, but it's not making it any clearer. You could do with a crayon drawing of what they're saying right now. As far as you're aware, after your scene, there was one more that you really didn't want to think about. One involving Sam and Brittany and one that the devil could use against you in hell as a punishment. "We've only got what you've seen but it just doesn't flow."

You're still not getting it though. You've spent three fucking months trying to block out the images your own brain conjured up, involving a scene that you walked away from, thinking it had happened and now these fucking two are stood in front of you, telling you that what? It never fucking happened? The reason you fucking left is now actually not a fucking reason?

They can't be serious.

"But Sam and–"

"Never shot their scene," Kurt interjects and picks up his coffee cup, sipping at what you now can only imaging is cold brew, and you're glad for the interruption before you said her name. Thinking it twice has been a kick in the balls already, so you don't need to feel what it's like to say it out loud after so long, but he's staring at you like this isn't big news.

Like it wouldn't have changed you leaving.

"I tried calling you after you walked off," he continues and sets his coffee cup down and Artie looks away, like he doesn't want to be a part of this anymore. You understand. You don't really want to listen to this because it's going to change everything if he's going to confirm what you're suspecting and you're unpredictable at the best of times, so you could either burst into tears or lash out. "But your number just rang out and then we found your cell in a drain and figured out why we couldn't reach you."

As much as you don't want to hear it, you feel something shift inside your chest and narrow your eyes, desperately hoping that there is in fact a scene with her and Sam. At least then, you'd be able to say you left for two reasons instead of just one. Yeah, sure you left because she didn't return the feelings you had, but you also left because you couldn't take being tortured by your worst nightmare and that's why you left so quickly.

You couldn't handle even thinking about it, let alone watching the damn thing and now you're finding out it never even went ahead.

But wait–

"Why?" You ask but Kurt doesn't understand initially, pursing his lips and staying silent, so you elaborate, irritation starting to grow. This really isn't the time to beat around the bush. "Why didn't they film it?"

You don't like the silence in response, but you shouldn't even be asking because you've got an expectation in your head already that's probably going to be wrong. You're hoping that it isn't, as that would mean more than you've convinced yourself of, but you also don't know if you really want to hear the answer if that's the case. It won't change anything. You're still going back to New York – you've got a job and an apartment – and you're just here to pay everyone else back for the crap you put them through before you pack up again.

But there's something in your stomach now, tugging at you until you hear an answer. You've got to know why that scene didn't get shot.

"I don't think that's a question for us," Kurt finally replies and your head snaps to Artie, hoping he'll be generous enough because you know what Kurt's getting at but he shrugs. You know Kurt's steering you in a specific direction and even the thought of seeing her makes fear pulse through you, let alone asking her why she couldn't fuck Sam. At least on screen. "We're just here for some of your Santana spice."

"The scene was supposed to be in the movie, so it's relevant and I want to know why it wasn't filmed," you point out and Kurt smirks, clearly knowing that but still refusing to change his mind and tell you, if he even knows.

(You're not sure he does, judging by the uncertainty behind his eyes.)

"We all know it's deeper than that, so I can't answer your question, " he throws back, and Artie sucks his lips into his mouth when you look to him for back up. You could use some but he's not breaking either. "But if you want a real answer, you know where to go," he entreats and leans back into his armchair.

But no. You don't know where to go.

"Where does–" Your voice breaks as you try to form the question and swallow thickly against it, your heart pounding in your chest. You're not going to go to her, but you can't deny you want to know where she is and have done since the damn plane hit that tarmac in Columbus. "Where does she live now?" You manage to get out, stuttering over your words and both of them scoff which earns a sharp a glare. Are they laughing at you?

"Still in your old apartment," Artie takes this one and shrugs at you, and your stomach twists. She still lives there? With all the memories of you two? You don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. You escaped with nothing from the damn place because you didn't want a constant reminder, but it seems she either didn't feel as emotionally attached to the superficial stuff, or she couldn't leave it alone and that question is almost as important as finding out why she didn't do the scene.

You must stay silent for too long after that, just trying to process that you're about six minutes away from seeing her (if you wanted to) after three months, because Kurt's suddenly next to you, hand setting on your shoulder and squeezing gently and your eyes snap up to him and he's smiling softly down at you.

"That's gotta be a lot to process, so maybe you should sleep on it," he suggests and it's the fucking wisest thing he's ever said. "We're all meeting up tomorrow at the diner before going out for a few drinks," he adds on and your brow furrows. Meeting at the diner? "We keep it a regular monthly thing, so we never lose contact with each other," he explains without you asking and you bob your head, eyes shifting to Artie who's nodding, too. "But we've got work during the day to do, so it'll be a nice reward after what we're going to make you watch over and over," he laughs.

But you don't.

You don't know if he's being genuine, or just trying to force you to see her, but either way, you think you're okay with it. No-one's forced you to do anything for three months and you've just hidden away in an unfamiliar environment, staying blissfully ignorant to everything painful in your life and it's about time you deal with your shit. Once upon a time, you promised you'd not get weird and ruin the friendship with this whole porno thing with her and look at you now... Breaking your promise because your heart was broken and the one thing that used to keep your head above water, became the thing dragging you under.

If you could have her back as a friend, you know you'd feel a thousand times better, even hundreds of miles away in a different state. This time spent without her has been the hardest thing you've ever done and if she didn't do the scene, maybe it was because she didn't want to hurt you like that. You put your feelings out there, and if she didn't feel the same then fine – well, not fine but you will deal with it eventually – but you know you shouldn't have walked away because you still had a friendship. She said she was keeping her promise of not making it weird, and she did, as she told you, by doing what the movie needed.

Except that's not what you wanted. Back then, all you wanted was her, in every conceivable way possible and it tore you apart to think of someone else touching her in the way you did, someone else kissing her or smiling against her mouth like you did. You chose not to do your scene with Dani, so you expected the same from her and she didn't at the time. She looked you dead in the eye and told you she was sticking to her promise not to make it weird, but that was dumb because it was already weird, and you left on the basis she did what she said.

But she didn't. These two – who are still fucking staring at you waiting for you to reply – have just told you that and now the main question in your mind is why. Why couldn't she go through with it? Because you know why you couldn't do yours with Dani.

But you've had three months to yourself now to prepare yourself for this moment. Three months where you've gone through every emotion in the world, being manically depressed to ecstatically happy, to throwing shit around your flat and then going out and getting blitzed with Mercedes to forget about everything but having a fucking good time. You've done everything that Google tells you about dealing with grief – that's the closest thing you could relate it to – and have learnt to live with your scars.

You've learned that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and as weak as you feel in this moment, trying to process that at least half of the reason you left that didn't even happen, you know that it means you were wrong about one thing; she didn't want to do the scene, so she didn't. For whatever reason.

A reason you need to find out though, and so you can have these next twelve or so hours to yourself to prepare yourself for that now.

"Okay," you finally reply, through a heavy exhale and Kurt and Artie's eyebrows shoot up, surprised by your answer. "We'll get this done tonight and we'll go for drinks tomorrow, then I'll leave the day after," you announce and you're not sure if it's for your benefit or theirs, but neither of them argue and beam equally wide grins at you, bobbing their head. "That cool with you both?"

Kurt smirks, Artie nods again and you exhale slowly.

You're going to see her tomorrow.

Eeeeeek! Thank you so much for your reviews! Keep them coming :)