Title: After All This Time
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 10.4k
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: So happy with all your feedback! Thank you so much, but I am making this one different... There's at least 7 more chapters pre-written, hence the daily update. Enjoy!
/
You're not sure if it's on purpose, but somehow you end up watch the other scenes, bar yours and Brittany's, twice before you see that specific scene again.
You flash Kurt a glare, but he just shrugs (with no smirk) so you don't think he knows why either, and you try to catch Artie's eye but he's just staring intently at the screens, like he's been doing for the past few hours. He's barely even looked away and now you understand the need for his thick glasses because that boy has got to have square eyes. All the video games alone must ruin his eyesight, and he sits really freaking close to these screens, picking up on every imperfection, reflection, out of place item and notes it down in a little pad on his lap which is useful, but has got to come at a cost.
However, after finishing Sugar, Dani and Puck's scene for the second time, Artie clears his throat, pausing the movie to peer over his shoulder at you and Brittany, still sat together in the chairs up the ramp. Kurt's taken himself off to the sofa bed, phone back in his hand and texting away and you guess this time it probably isn't to the blonde as she's been sat rigidly next to you for too long now.
The amount of times you've wanted to reach over and nudge her ankle, or turn her chair around, just to see her smile, is a number too high to even count and you'd be lying if you said you've been paying attention to the rest of the scenes, only eagerly anticipating watching that scene, fully for the first time, with the person you did it with. Last time you only managed to get to the foreplay bit, not even the sex, before you had to look away and that was when you were alone with just the guys.
So this time isn't going to be challenging at all.
"You ready to watch your scene?"
You're not sure why Artie asks, but you guess even if he doesn't know about what happened last night, he does know about three months ago or at least rumours surrounding it, so you don't act surprised and slide your eyes to Brittany, seeing her nodding immediately. It kind of makes you feel weird, because she's obvious far more prepared for it than you are and you're not sure what that means, but you need to match her energy and she's coming across chill.
(Even if her nails are picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of her sweater.)
(That means she's at least a little nervous.)
And then the time comes, and you don't bother looking back at Kurt because you can hear him coming up behind you, and nod to follow Brittany's nod at Artie, who lingers for a second before his hand begins moving around the screen and another clip pops up to take over several of them, like it's a damn cinema. The rest have been shown in the same way, but it still makes you uncomfortable that you're about to be mostly naked for everyone to see, getting intimate with Brittany, when she's right freaking next to you and oh, you have a dick that's about to be magnified on the big screen.
But you weren't this hesitant about it when you were filming the damn thing, and that was in person. They probably got a much better view of your junk there, but it's all kinds of weird, regardless.
"Before I play this…" Artie continues, his hand hovering over the keyboard. "I'll be honest… I'm not sure we need an edit, which is why I've saved it for last."
Kurt makes a light scoff behind you that makes you finally look to him, eyes narrowed into a glare, but he just cocks a brow, returning the challenge like he doesn't give a shit. You can't really blame him. He's always known something happened from when you opened the damn door the next morning after you filmed your scene, after the second time you slept together. He's always done shit like during that stupid game of spin the bottle when he attempted to keep your emotions under control, so you guess you can allow his scoff.
"Whatever we need," you get out, voice strained because you haven't spoken in like an hour now, and Brittany's eyes snap to you as you shift in your seat, and you can't hide the fact you're a little uncomfortable, and it just sort of comes out. "I haven't watched the scene properly yet," you admit, in a quiet whisper and a small smile tugs at the corners of the blondes lips.
"Me either," she breathes, and you share a shy smile, before Kurt coughs loudly.
"I have, and I honestly don't need to want to see it again or any of the others, but we've got to," he comments and waves his hand towards Artie who hits the play button.
You suck in a shaky breath, exhaling through pursed lips and grip the arms of the chair a little tighter as the intro music starts playing.
/
You've already seen the beginning part a couples times and cringed at how awkward the words are that leave your mouth about a big package and delivery with Kurt who teased you even though his scenes were much cornier, but it feels so different now that Brittany's beside you.
Your hands clench tightly around the arms of the chair you're sat on when you hear the first line spoken, until the white of your knuckles are showing, and you should've asked Brittany how much she's seen so you can tailor your reactions to certain parts, but that opportunity has long gone. So, you choose to stay stoic and silent, eyes trained on the screen and try not to gulp loudly when the version of you on screen begins walking out from the sides, and you're unable to tear your vision away from drinking in the way Brittany stares at you all over again.
Just like the first time you saw it, you study the way her mouth opens and eyes widen, taking you in, and you find your neck twisting, eyes sliding to the side to see if Brittany's staring back at you. She isn't, but almost like she sensed you were going to do it, her eyes shift at the same time, and you know she knows that you're looking, but you don't meet her eye, just clench your jaw as you try not to choke on the breath you take and return to the screen.
You wish she'd look at you like she is on the screen. Just once.
But you don't linger on it for long before the versions of you two are stepping closer, and you swear you hear her breath hitch when the on-screen you grabs at the on-screen hips of Brittany, like she remembers what that touch felt like. You do only too well, the sensation burnt into your memory and sparking with the refreshed scene playing before you, and you're honestly struggling to find why this was a good idea in the first place.
How are you supposed to feel watching it? The thing that fucking started all this crap and messed up a perfect friendship, and a harsh reminder of what you two did last night.
You can't let those thoughts take over though, because you promised to come back for one reason, and this is it and you can't fall at the first hurdle, like you did the first time you attempted to watch the whole scene. You need to get through the entire thing and find out why Artie doesn't think you need any editing as you probably do as neither of you did a porno before so there must be some parts that need to be spliced. But you also need to try and talk to Brittany and clear the bullshit between you and see if there's anything to salvage.
It's been pretty easy since she came down to the basement. Admittedly, that's not been for too long, but you've stolen a few shy glances and you haven't run away yet which is a good sign, even though you're convinced the only reason Kurt's chosen to drag a chair from upstairs, delaying the preview, and sit directly behind you, is to make sure that doesn't happen.
You kind of want to kick him for that, and hug him, too. You're not sure what you want to do, but that is a deterrent.
Anyway, as much as you'd like to say you're calm, you're not. Your muscles are starting to ache because you're so tense, your chest is tight and you're trying not to feel the pressure as you turn your attention back to the screens. Your heart leaps into your throat immediately, as the two on screen versions of you and Brittany kiss, and just like last time, you can't look away.
You drink in the way Brittany tilts her head to deepen the kiss after your lips meet, and how you do the same. Tingles flow throughout your body and you inhale deeply, leaning back into your chair which apparently is louder than you wanted it to be, because blue eyes slide to your profile, but you can't meet them. You're far too enamoured with you two on screen, and deathly afraid Brittany isn't reacting the same as you and so the best (and smartest) thing to do would be to just continue watching.
So you do just that.
Unlike the first time you watched it, the foreplay is over in the blink of an eye, but then the on-screen version of you is being straddled by the beautiful blonde on a low set counter and you almost snap the pencil in your hand, the one that's yet to write down any notes, as you remember how she looked, sat on top of you, shirt parted revealing perfect abs and how tousled her hair was and how you were mesmerised.
You think you still look at her like that, as you can recall at least five times in the past day that you've stared at her in the same way, and the breath that leaves your chest is shaky, but quiet, muffled by your lips as you suck them into your mouth to cover it.
Because as mesmerising as that was, you know that the next part was so much worse. You haven't even made it to this part yet, even the snippets you've seen in the last few hours weren't made up of the sex part of your scene with her, and you really don't know how you're going to handle it.
It's just going to remind you that that was the first time, of three. That it was the key that unlocked the box and let a whole load of crap out, and it strikes you as strange as you begin thinking about if you had to choose, which time with Brittany was your favourite. You think the second, because it was a discovery, a proper taste of what was going to occur and it should leave a bitterness on your tongue, but it doesn't.
Another thing that strikes you as strange.
"Here it comes…" Kurt whispers from behind you, and you peer over your shoulder to see his eyebrows raise briefly at you, like he's telling you to prepare.
You don't know what you're preparing for, though.
It happens in slow motion as you return your gaze to the screen, watching the on-screen you pick Brittany up, turning her around to lay her back on the counter, and you then get why he was looking at you like that. Because just as you remember, it even fucking looks like there was no-one else in the room as you line yourself up between her legs, and your eyes meet and you really don't know how anyone even watched this part, despite neither of you doing anything sexual, because it's just so fucking passionate and intimate as your foreheads tip together.
Something that a porn scene, usually isn't.
You know what happens next, but luckily the microphones either didn't pick up the one word that was spoken between you – ready – or maybe Artie already took that out, so you don't have to hear it, but with the memory comes the lack of focus on what you should be looking at, and you blink, realising you've unwittingly turned to stare at Brittany.
And your heart almost stops when she's already staring back at you, and the breath you try to take lodges in your throat. You try to swallow against it, but it doesn't work and you're unable to tear your gaze away from blue eyes, like you're waiting for her to say the same thing to you now. To ask if you're ready, but you know it'd be a no. You're not ready for any of this, and you didn't know what to expect but you weren't expecting a heaviness to settle low in your stomach and your heartbeat to pick up because of it.
But then Kurt gasps quietly, and you force your stare away, back to the screen and heat floods your entire body as the version of you slides into Brittany. There's a whimper, one that sends sparks across your skin, and a groan from the you supposedly 'acting' and your eyes flutter shut, remembering how Artie made a comment about the 'acting' like it wasn't that at all.
It's clear to you now that it wasn't, and that's probably why this is so damn hard to watch.
You have to though, and your breathing increases tenfold, hearing sounds that engraved themselves in your memory, and which you hold close to your heart as the scene continues playing, but you still don't pay attention to it just yet.
As much as the second time with her was your favourite, this one is precious in another way, because it was like losing your virginity all over again, but so much better on every level. It was the first of something new, and sleeping with someone for the first time is always memorable, especially when that person is your best freaking friend. Or at least that's what you're telling yourself just so you don't cry or run away again.
And for some reason, you choose not to look back at the screen, and after a few seconds of gazing into blue eyes, you realise why. You don't need to, because staring into the eyes you did when you entered her for the first time, is far better.
Remembering how you felt, instead of seeing it, is so much more intense and you remember how you came alive, watching her eyes roll into the back of her head as her nails scratched down the side of your bicep. You remember the flush that covered her skin, the same flush you saw less than 24 hours ago, on this very desk, and you can't help when your eyes flit to it, coming back only quickly to check that blue ones did the same and yup, Brittany's staring at the desk like you just were.
But then she's looking down at the floor, then away back to the screen, and the moment is gone, and you force yourself to ignore the way your chest caves with disappointment, reminding yourself that the on-screen version is all that matters right now.
So, you finally put your pencil to your paper, pretending like you have an idea what you're going to write down as you slip back into a professional mindset, and even if you want to do nothing more than to pause the fucking movie, ask Brittany why she seems to be reacting exactly the same as you, you know you shouldn't.
You know you can't, and you especially know where your priorities lie now and all that matters it that you get through this damn scene and then you can go to the airport and away from all these weird fucking moments that keep screwing with your head.
/
The scene finishes, and you let out a long breath you didn't know you were holding, thankful that Artie switches off the screens immediately so the freeze frame of you and Brittany kissing way too fucking softly for the end of a porn scene – they usually have graphic, juicy endings on various body parts – disappears immediately.
As expected, Kurt is a total fucking jerk about it and claps his hands, blowing out his cheeks and exhaling loudly, drawing all attention to him as he speaks.
"Well that was awkward," he chuckles, and you narrow your eyes into a glare at him. You really don't know how you haven't punched him yet.
"Quit it, Kurt. It's business," Artie interjects quickly, and Brittany flashes him a grateful smile that doesn't slip past you as you duck your chin to your chest. Has she said something to him? Or maybe he's still got a crush on her. Not like you could blame him. "Anyway," he continues and turns around in his chair, hands on the wheel to look between you. "Like I said, I don't think we need to make any edits on that particular scene."
You would argue, but taking the emotional side out of it, you know that you and Brittany nailed that scene. There was no awkward slip ups, or stumbling. It just flowed and as much as you kind of fucking hate that – your bodies just knew each other – you're super fucking glad as you think that means you won't have to sit through it again. The first five minutes with the whole staring shit with Brittany was hard enough, and you forced yourself not to meet her gaze several times, as you were just straight up terrified that she'd look away again.
Even if it probably was for the best. If she keeps doing stuff like that, it'll just motivate you to stay in the platonic lane of the highway and see if you can get around that way and that's what you should do.
And your blank notepad is evidence of what Artie is saying, so you just bob your head along, unsure what else to say other than it was not only the best scene by far, but it was the hottest. Or at least to you it was. Maybe a little on the sappy side if anything, but it was passionate and you're sure that's a good thing to people who don't know the real story behind it.
"We've watched enough now, so I think it's time to get down to the nitty gritty stuff," Artie continues and spins back around, tapping away at the keyboard and bringing up various screens, but something buzzes, and you flinch as it comes from your pocket.
It's your phone. Shit. Who's calling you?
You flash a wary smile to all of them, sliding out the device and your eyes take note of Mercedes name on the screen, causing a flash of panic to sure through you. It was only earlier she said that Cassie was poking holes in your story, and you're just waiting to be called out on your lie and get your ass fired or something because of it, which would mean you'd have even less of a reason to stay in the city, so you should probably try and avoid that.
You answer it and get up, putting the notepad on the desk and darting out of the basement, up a few steps until you're out of sight with only a small smile flashed at the other three in the room.
You're only a few meters away, so well within eavesdropping distance, but you just wanted a little privacy to process your emotions after what you just watched, as well as take the call.
"Hey," you greet, putting your back to the room and lowering your voice.
"Girl, you gotta get back here tonight. Cassie wants you on the bar with Mack."
You turn your back to them again, like this is a secret phone call. It isn't, and you don't know why you're muffling your words, but it just feels like you should. "Has she asked anything else?"
"Hasn't asked meanything else," Mercedes replies and you press your lips together. Damn. That means she's asking the other girls. "Or Mack, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't actually know where you are. Lucky you keep to yourself, or you'd probably get back to no job."
In hindsight, not opening up during your three months in the city has helped as none of the other girls will be able to reveal that you're not in touch with your family, and therefore Cassie won't be able to see through your lie, but you know Mercedes knows and as long as your boss isn't prodding her for more, you're good. Although, it is a reminder that you've only got a few hours until you're supposed to go to the airport and your stomach flips at the thought.
You kind of don't want to leave.
"My flight is at 8," you choose to answer, pushing away the heaviness in your chest. "I'll be back in the city around 10."
"I'll see your fine ass after 10 then. Had you covered for three days but Cassie's about to go all Crazy July without you," Mercedes chirps and you laugh, sucking your lips into your mouth when you peer over your shoulder to find blue eyes staring right at you. You offer a half-smile to Brittany after, which she returns and then drops her gaze to the notepad Artie is offering out and takes it like she's paying attention to what he said.
You think her attention was on you.
(It just makes your stomach flip again.)
(You're now nervous because that means you need to talk to her like, pronto.)
(You think you're going to be sick.)
"Yeah, yeah," you wave her off, even though she can't see and swallow against a thick throat. "I'll see you at the bar."
Mercedes laughs and you hang up the phone, slipping it into the back pocket of your jeans and heading back over to the room, finding Kurt whipping his head around at your return, perfectly plucked eyebrows furrowed together, his eyes narrowed. You know he's going to ask you who it is because he's nosier than you are, but you're yet to discuss your friendship with the girls back in the city, scared your friends here will ask how close you are, and the answer is not very. They don't even know your middle name.
"Who's calling you, Satan?" Kurt quips, a smirk on his face as his head cocks to the side. "Found some demons in the city that never sleeps?"
You roll your eyes and slide back into your chair, picking up your notepad and pencil from before, not wanting to entertain him and his snipes. You're far too zoned in on thinking about how you're going to get 10 minutes alone with Brittany, and him saying shit like that is pulling focus. All your strength needs to go into making sure another moment of talking doesn't fall to the wayside, so you just need to get on with the note reading part of it and hurry this whole porno thing up.
"Just a girl from the bar," you explain through a breath, flicking over the first page of the pad and eying your notes on a few of the other scenes. "Making sure I'll be back tonight," you add on and glance up, catching the tail end of Kurt's eyes flitting over to Brittany, but when you follow the line of sight, Brittany's looking down at her own notepad and you're confused. Did you miss something? Or was Kurt just being an ass again? "Can we get on with this?"
Artie claps his hand, agreeing with the motion and begins asking questions about film direction and some other crap you don't know too much about.
You've just got to do this, and then you can talk to Brittany.
/
It's just gone 5 when you come up with the final cut.
Everyone high fives – you put your everything into not buckling to the floor when your hand touches Brittany's – and instead roll your head back against the chair after, staring at the ceiling as it sinks in what you've just done. After months and months of not knowing where this road leads, and serious effort put in at the beginning, you've finally come to the end and a pressure lifts off your chest as you think that all the ends are tied up now.
You've done what you came back to do, and you can't help yourself when you think that, that can only mean your next move is to go to the airport and go back to New York, away from your friends here, and away from Brittany, and you find yourself staring at her without conscious thought. She doesn't look back immediately, chatting to Artie excitedly and your heart blossoms in your chest when you watch her smile.
You could do this all freaking day and never get tired of it and if you were honest with yourself, another reason you came back to New York was to see that fucking thing again and realise the world isn't all bad. It can't be if she exists, and you want nothing more than to just rekindle a friendship and have her back in your life. All you want to do is be able to text her, or call her, without feeling like your heart is in your throat and now the editing is done, you can put your focus on making sure that happens.
Apparently, you're not as subtle as you expected with your staring or thinking, because you hear Kurt clear his throat far too loudly to be just for it's original purpose, and slide your vision to him, seeing him with a knowing grin. You really would love to slap him one day.
"Editing only took seven hours," he comments, sidestepping a jibe about catching you red-handed. "What time is your flight?"
You pull your phone out your back pocket and eye the time. "Soon," you sigh, knowing you've got about half an hour until you need to leave. Takes a while to get to the airport and you like to be there early just in case you can't find the right gate or something. Not that it's ever happened, but there's a first time for everything. "Think you could give me a lift to the airport?"
Kurt chuckles, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his bones, and you wince but watch as he stands and nods his head. "How else would you get there?"
"True," you laugh but the smile drops from your face when you watch him look over your head, and something in his eyes faulter. You don't need to follow it to see who he's looking at, because his body has gone stiff in a way that makes you think he's awkward now and you're guessing he's jumping on the same train of thought as you whilst you've been trying not to freak out about how you're going to even fucking start it.
The chat with Brittany.
"You going to Columbus?" Comes from behind you and you spin in your chair, finding Artie addressing you with a smile after listening into the conversation.
You would snipe at him for eavesdropping, but you're aware that Brittany's now stood beside him, hands in front of her and looking at everything that isn't you, but you're really trying to catch her eye and telepathically tell her that you'd like to chat with like, a head nod or a look. She knows you well enough to see when you're hesitating and what you want, as she always has done, and it'd be really great if she would just freaking look at you to see that you'd like some alone time to have a word.
But you have to answer Artie. You're rude, but not to your friends.
(Usually.)
"Yeah, my flight is at 8."
Artie bobs his head, and silence sets in and it's a little awkward for a moment, highlighted by the way his eyes bug open as Kurt makes a gesture to him, or widens his eyes or something, and it's not subtle and makes you angry, but you're far too overwhelmed with the other mix of emotions coursing through you whilst you stare at Brittany. She's still not looking at you and you're starting to panic. What if she doesn't want to talk to you?
"Great… Hey, Kurt?" Artie chirps, but his voice is too high, and Kurt straightens up, bolting over to the guy in the wheelchair and stood behind him, already pre-empting the words that leave his mouth. "Think you can give me a hand upstairs? Need to tell my mom Santana's leaving."
Kurt's already steering him down the ramp and towards the lift before he can finish his sentence, aiding him swiftly by helping him out his chair and into it, and then there's a quick flash of a smile and they're both disappearing out of sight. You'd like to have snapped at them for being really fucking obvious with what they're doing, and how it's made this situation feel ten times more uncomfortable than it was a minute ago, but it's a little too late for that and now you're getting panicky sweats under your boobs.
But you have to do this. Once upon a time, Brittany was your best friend and out of everything that's happened this trip, you want nothing more than to have her back in whatever capacity she's willing to come in. You know it should really be up to her to talk, as she's the one that didn't three months ago when words failed her, and the one that kissed you last night which led to you fucking on the desk you're sitting next to, but you're fucking terrified if you reference back to that, she's going to run away.
You don't want to startle her, and Holly was right, maybe you should start from scratch and see if you can get back to who you two used to be. After that, you'll have to see where it'll go, but the foundations are the most important.
"So, are you all packed?"
Again, not the smoothest of starts, but you'll take it as Brittany's initiating the conversation and head over to your suitcase, hauling it up on to the sofa bed and patting it proudly.
"Already done," you reply with a sheepish smile, and she mirrors it, but hers is sadder. It hurts to look at, so you distract yourself with fiddling with the label that was tacked on to it on your journey here. "My friend called earlier," you follow up, not even realising you're speaking until Brittany's eyes snap up to you and a familiar burn scorches across your skin. "Apparently my boss wants me to go to work when I get back to the city."
Brittany frowns, but there's a confused smile and she gingerly takes a seat back on to the chair she was on before, crossing one leg over the other and dragging a fingertip down the arm. It's kind of distracting, especially as your body remembers the motion but on it instead, and you shudder out a breath, swallowing thickly as you force the thoughts away. That's so not going to help whilst you're trying to clear the air between you.
"Is that a normal thing to do in New York?" The blonde finally replies and tilts her head to the side, eyes flitting around your face like she's reading you. "Go to work after getting back from a family emergency?" She grins, and you choke out a laugh, surprised that she's talking to you normally. There's no way she can't feel the tension in the air, and how the gap between you seems like miles right now.
"My boss is kind of a bitch," you shrug.
Brittany chuckles, and it's music to your ears, so you miss the way she sits forward, resting her forearms on her thighs and leans, suddenly seeming a lot more serious than she was a heartbeat ago, but it's at the same time the laughter dies out, that you think she's going to bring up what happened last night, and you begin panicking. So much so, that you find yourself saying her name before you can stop it.
"Brittany–"
"Santana–"
Both your mouths shut, the names leaving them at the same time and blood rushes to your cheeks as you try to urge her on silently, but she just returns it and then you're goofily grinning at her, feeling embarrassed that you were about to speak. She's grinning too, which makes it feel so much less awkward and you shake your head, scrunching your face up and sweeping your hand out towards her.
"You go first," you insist softly, trying not to wonder how your friendship went from cuddling on the couch to interrupting each other, and it's different but it doesn't feel bad for once. Probably the only thing that's made you feel good between you two, bar the sex. That was and has been amazing every damn time.
The blonde stands and strides over to you confidently, much like she did in the bar before that bullshit two minute conversation – which you're still a little pissed about – but this is making up for it right now. She didn't leave with Kurt and Artie, even though she could've done, and she said your name at the same time you said hers, which is still warming your cheeks, so you think that means she stayed here to talk to you like you wanted, but you're still panicking.
Before, you were scared, now you're flat out terrified and you'd probably curse yourself if it wasn't for the sound of your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears and taking away all focus. Well, you're trying to convince yourself it's that and not because Brittany's now right in front of you, lowering her head and your eyes are locked in a staring contest with hers and it's the closest you've been since you had sex and oh God, you're going to pass out.
So, you need to speak. Like right fucking now.
"Britt–"
"I just want my best friend back," Brittany breathes out, stealing the final syllable of her name from your mouth as it snaps shut, and cold shock rushes through you as you try to process the words. What did she just say? "I missed you, and I know we're not the same as we used to be," she follows up and you can't help but stare at her, not quite believing what you're hearing. It's what you wanted (sort of) but it's also not because there was something inside of you that thought she might tell you she has feelings for you, and you can't help the sting of rejection that follows the cold shock.
"You've got a new life and stuff… I guess, so do I," she shrugs and your nostrils flare, features hardening because you won't let yourself cry, even if you're feeling really fucking stupid right now. "And maybe we shouldn't have slept together… Again," Brittany whispers, her cheeks going red and eyes dropping down to her twisting hands and you swallow, finding it hard to do so as heat prickles your eyelids.
You can't really have expected different, especially after the way you ditched her this morning, but there was a glimmer of hope somewhere and it was naïve, but at least you know now that you were right all along… It was just sex for Brittany. This entire time it has been, regardless of how much it didn't feel like any of the times and you can feel the realisation seeping into your chest, pushing against your ribs and clenching around your heart.
"But I've missed you and I don't think I realised how much until I saw you," Brittany adds on and whereas it should make you feel better, all you can hear in her words was that she was fine without you for those three months that you were gone.
She levelled up, developed herself and you can't say you've seen her miserable, because you haven't. The only times her smile has faltered is when you were around, like when you turned up at Sugar's unopened bar, and when you walked off last night from the bar, and that's a hard pill to swallow. Maybe you don't make her feel the same way she makes you feel. Maybe you're still that 16 year old hopeless dork with no chance of getting Brittany freaking Pierce, and maybe after all this time, things haven't changed.
You're just a fool. The whole reason you went to New York in the first place was to escape this very fucking feeling in your chest, growing the longer you stare her in the eyes and see nothing but honesty, and you thought you'd had enough time to build yourself up, to strengthen yourself. You thought you'd prepared for this moment with her, but you never really did because you were clinging onto something that wasn't even there.
Just a figment of your imagination, and your expectations should've been set to that because glow up or not, you'll always be that damn 16 year old in specs that literally fell at her feet.
God, you're such an idiot.
But as much as you want to just end this conversation right there, without agreeing to what Brittany's saying, you know that dealing with this feeling, and suffering like you did for all those years you were infatuated with her – leading to you falling in love as an adult, but whatever – is a hell of a lot easier than living without her. You've done that already. You've lived 91 days without her and as tough as it is being around her and feeling the way you do, you've always managed to find a comfort and familiarity in her that's never come with anyone else.
You've always held this adoration and okay, it's one-sided as you've just found out, but you'd rather swallow your pride, take the blame, and leave all the bad days behind you two. You'd rather hang your head in private shame and maintain contact with her because the words hurt, but the silence is so much fucking worse.
So, you choose to push down all natural instinct to word vomit and admit that you can't be her best friend anymore because she was never just yours, but you already did that speech last night and it obviously hasn't got you any further, so what would be the point in repeating it? Plus, you can't deny that it must be weird for her, knowing you have feelings that she doesn't return, so for her to even say that she wants you back as a best friend is brave and well, if that's the least you can get, that's what you'll take.
Even if it hurts more than you could've imagined.
"Me too, Britt," you force yourself to reply, putting the most genuine smile you can on your face even though it feels like you're breaking inside. She doesn't jerk her head back, or come across surprised that you agreed, but you see her exhale shakily, something behind her eyes faltering and it makes you want to push her, but what's the point? All you wanted was for her to be back in your life and that's what you're getting, so you swallow the question and open your arms.
She eyes them for a moment, bottom lip between her teeth but steps into the hug, and you can't help but close your eyes the second her arms wind around your waist, yours going around her neck. They secure, locking you in place and you force all thoughts of how it feels pressed naked up against her, and how you're never going to feel anything more than this and it's okay – no it's not, but it has to be – and that's what you need to get used to.
"You're my best friend," you whisper, without even telling yourself to and Brittany pulls back, but keeps close as you look into her eyes. "You know that, right?"
You're only saying it to make sure she knows that regardless, she has been and always will be your best friend, and throw in a weak smile, unable to stop the corners of your lip twitching, straining against the movement because you don't want to smile. You want to cry, or beg, or something totally pathetic and that's just not who you are. She sees it though, blue eyes flitting down, staying on your lips and it's a beat too long for you to not cock your head to the side – she just told you she wanted her best friend back and you agreed, so why is she staring at your lips? – but she speaks, and you don't get to ask.
"You're my best friend, too," she whispers, stepping out of the hug completely and you ignore the way your body goes cold at the lack of contact, arms falling back to your side, just in time to feel your cell buzz in your pocket again. Her eyes flit down to where the noise is coming, and she smiles at you in a way that doesn't reach her eyes and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, gesturing to the sound with her free hand. "You should get that."
It feels significant, for a reason you don't know, but you thought it'd be a little more dramatic than the conversation you just had. You spent hours and hours freaking out about how it was going to go and worrying you'd say the wrong thing, and if there were objects that were going to be thrown or maybe you two would end up yelling at each other, like you did last night, but nope. Nothing. That was it, and you guess you're friends again now.
(It really feels like unfinished business though.)
But she's just waiting for you to answer your phone, and you can't read anything else on her face, so you do just that. You slide it out your pocket, sliding open the lock screen and seeing a quick message from Mercedes with several exclamation marks and something about Cassie bugging the crap out of her, and you manage a light laugh, shaking your head because she's just ridiculous. You told her you were coming back tonight, so you roll your eyes and return it to it's original place, looking up to find Brittany staring around the room like she's trying to not to look your way anymore.
And you want to say something else. You want to just ask her why she's being weird – because she is, this isn't normal Brittany – but you know that she's back in your life, and you don't have to live with only knowing bits and pieces about her anymore. You can now travel back in time, before all this messy crap ruined your friendship and start building it from scratch again. It's better than staying away and losing your mind trying to hold onto anything else, and if you push, you could break the thin ice you're both stood on.
So it's time to get going.
"We better get upstairs," you get out, inhaling deeply and ignoring the way your body rejects your words. You don't want to go upstairs. You don't want to leave now. You want to stay locked in this basement with her and just remember all the reasons you were best friends in the first place, but you know you're not capable of that. It's pretty much accepted that you're still horribly in love with her, but you think you have been this entire time and distracting yourself has worked before, giving you a blissful ignorance and you just need to get back to that mindset.
"Yeah," she agrees, breathlessly, swallowing thickly but nodding and flashing you a hesitant smile. "You don't wanna miss your flight."
You suck your lips in and nod with her, and it takes everything inside of you not to pull her towards you and kiss her, just to prove that you would miss your flight if there was something else, but that'll get you nowhere. Even if there's something in her eyes when she stops speaking, something more than the words that leave her mouth and you want to know so desperately what it is, but this is safe. This is what you wanted, what Holly said you should do, and at least you can leave with knowing you two are okay now.
You've managed to skip out on any dramatic fallouts, or unnecessary fights and the least you could do is swallow everything you've said before after the way you left, because you not only know your worth but because it means you can start to move on. There's no point in lingering if nothing is felt back, and maybe this is the start of something new, and maybe this is what you needed all along, to just get it out and move past it.
Maybe now you can walk past a window without seeing her through it. Maybe now you can stop missing her and maybe she won't be in every single thing you do. Maybe now you can hear her name without feeling like you're about to burst into flames. Maybe now you can finally fill that empty space with something else other than her, and as much as you don't want to – that nothing inside of you does – maybe you can start looking for something other than that missing piece of you. The one you thought Brittany was.
Because you can't make her love you. Nothing you can do will change the way she feels and that's something you're going to force yourself to accept if you want her in your life again.
So, without further ado, and without releasing the burning urge in your chest to figure out why the hell you're just staring at each other, not moving, not talking, you pull up the handle of your suitcase and wheel it over to the stairs, peering over your shoulder to see Brittany begin to follow you silently before you begin hauling your case up it.
It's time to say goodbye.
/
Kurt and Artie are waiting by the car when you go upstairs.
You head out to them, suitcase and Brittany in toe, kissing Nancy on the cheek and thanking her for her hospitality and the older woman smiles and walks with you. Kurt eyes you suspiciously as you round the back of the car, tugging open the boot and throwing your case in, and it's only when you return back to the sidewalk that you gauge his emotion.
His eyes flit to you, then Brittany, then to the large space between you – Brittany's on the pathway to the house with Nancy beside her, arm slung around her waist, pulling her into Nancy's side – and you see the disappointment in the way his brows furrow, but you've got to ignore that.
It's not like you're not disappointed. You've never been so damn disappointed before that shit just hasn't worked out you wanted it to, but your life isn't a romance novel, or a romantic comedy where the two protagonists end up together, and sometimes you just have to deal with the cards handed to you. The ones where your best friend doesn't love you back and it sucks but what can you do?
"Ready to go?" Artie chirps, seeming like he wants to come across chill but his voice wavers as he looks around the group. "Don't want to hit any traffic."
"Yeah," you breathe, sliding your thumbs into your back pockets. You're going to skip over the awkwardness because you're leaving and it's being made into a big deal, even though you really don't want it to be. You'll probably come back now at some point as there's no negative feeling anymore keeping you away, and you need to say that. "Well, I'll be seeing you," you say, directing it more towards Nancy – who you've already said goodbye to – and Brittany steps forward, stealing the breath from your chest, knowing it was actually meant for her but you're too scared to talk to her with everyone staring.
"Can I have your phone?" She asks, and it's so not what you were expecting, you flinch but do as asked and hand it over to her, watching her tap away quickly for a second before handing it over. You're confused, but that's quickly gone when you peer down and see her number in your phone, like she doesn't know it's engrained into your brain and has been since you were 16, but you think it was meant to remind you that you can text her now, seeing a knowing glint in her eye when you glance up to check.
"You can text me now," she whispers, too low for anyone else to hear and you're kind of frozen as she takes a step back, the corners of her lips twitching into a sad smile. "Maybe you could come to Sugar's club opening next month, too, if you want," she shrugs and you swallow thickly, her voice now louder like she's okay with the others hearing the invitation, but you can see she's trying to be friendly with you.
And well, you're not going to decline an opportunity to mark your next visit, because perhaps you can look forward to it now after this weird tension is left behind in the month you two will spend apart, after the chat you two had in the basement.
"Yeah, I'll see if my crazy boss lets me have more time off," you reply with a forced laughter. "I'm kind of big deal back there."
Brittany chuckles quietly, and so does the rest of the group, and you want to feel happy that it's not as awkward as it could be, which is disheartening, but you said to Kurt that you didn't know what Brittany wanted and now you do. Now you can hang onto the remains of the bridge that was burnt between you without knowing if you're going to drop, and perhaps one day, you'll fall out of love with Brittany because you won't get to see her every day.
Three months hasn't managed that, but you were alarmingly aware of the empty space in your life, that can now start being filled with other things, maybe even other girls and this is the start of something different.
(Okay, you're not that far along just yet to think of other people.)
(The thought of kissing someone else or knowing if you are, Brittany might be too, makes you want to be sick.)
(But if you keep thinking it, then you could lure yourself into a false sense of security.)
And that's why you're going back. When you first moved to the city, you could only see it being one or two years before you could just come back to Lima for no other reason than you wanted to, but it's not like that now and that's good. You can talk to Brittany and find that friendship you so desperately missed and that she apparently missed too, and for now that's okay.
But it's really fucking hard to move away and get in the damn car because Brittany's looking at you like she doesn't want to leave. Her eyes are just boring into yours, her face stoic and lips sucked into her mouth like she's trying not to say anything, but you have to take the lead here. You're the one that's leaving again and this time it's on a better note and it's the way you should have left the first time, even if it's hard to believe that it's the right thing to do with her looking at you like this.
(It's also hard to believe she doesn't love you back.)
So, you sidestep the look and break the eye contact, opening up your arms like you did in the basement and don't even give her the opportunity to cross her arms and reject it, pulling her into you immediately. She sinks into you instantly, and you dig your chin into her shoulder, inhaling deeply like it's the last time you'll be this close to her. It will be, at least for a month or so, and maybe next time you see her it won't feel so damn weird to touch her, and maybe you won't fall into bed with her again and everything will work out differently, but in a way you can handle.
Except that memory is far too fresh not to think about it when her arms squeeze tighter around your waist after a few seconds, and you end the embrace, taking a large step back and holding her eyes for a few seconds until Nancy steps up beside her, hugging her from the side like she was a minute ago.
"Bye, San."
You gulp, bowing your head slightly and spin on your heels, forcing every muscle into not grabbing Brittany and shaking whatever the hell you think is being held back out of her, clambering in the back seat of the car, and lowering down the window to look out at her, knowing you have to say goodbye verbally, and hello to the start of a new friendship with her before you go. This is where it starts, and now you're sat inside the car so you a physical barrier between you and this is the type of shit you'll have to do when you come back.
"Bye, Britt," you croak out, the words feeling wrong on your tongue, but Brittany just sucks in her bottom lip and folds her arms over her chest as Nancy hugs her tighter.
You rest back into your seat, staring ahead as Kurt climbs in and switches on the ignition, and you don't let yourself glance back to her as the car peels off the curb and you're disappearing down the street.
/
The flight is short, and you wear headphones and manage to listen to Fleetwood Mac's album Rumours twice whilst staring aimlessly out the window before the plane is touching down at JFK.
You hail a cab after getting your luggage, shooting a text off to Mercedes to say you're back in the city and she sends a hell of a lot of emojis in return, a mixture of thumbs up and smiley faces and you chuckle to yourself. You've missed being in New York, and you stare out at the too-large buildings and flurry of cars as you drive through the streets, thinking that you're okay with living here as it's a safe distance away from Brittany, but it's also comfortable now in a way it wasn't before.
Because this is your home now.
You can't make any more mistakes and you've been back to Ohio, cleared the air and you're yet to text Brittany – you don't want to seem too eager – but even she said you have a different life, and she was right. You've left on good grounds, knowing that you can seriously consider going back for Sugar's club opening in a month and that's a good amount of time to adjust to the newfound friendship between you.
One that won't include sex, or cuddling, or a lot of the things you used to do as they were clear indicators now of how you felt about her, and you can discover a genuinely platonic side to your relationship.
The cab pulls up at your apartment block, and you slide the driver a twenty before heading upstairs. You freshen up quickly in the bathroom and get changed into more appropriate work gear, heading straight out again and to the bar. It only takes ten minutes to get there, and you breathe in stale beer and cheap aftershave when you wander into the building, seeing Mercedes pop up from behind the bar with a wide grin when her eyes land on you.
"Santana!" She cheers, and you roll your eyes playfully, sliding on to a stool and flashing a grateful smile at the girl when she slides over a traditional tequila before leaning on the top. "Girl, we've missed you."
You throw back the shot and wince as it stings your throat, settling low in your stomach. "Don't expect me to be on top form tonight, Wheezy. I've been up since 6."
It's true. You didn't get any shut eye on the flight – an hour is not long enough for one of your naps – and you know the bar doesn't close until 4am and you're both physically and emotionally exhausted. But Mercedes laughs, not seeing the real reason for fatigue, and Mack comes out from the storage room, grinning widely at you and bobbing her head, but not greeting you verbally as she begins unloading the glass washer into the tray in her hand. You return your vision back to your friend who's still smiling at you, and it feels weird, but like a good weird. She isn't Brittany, or Kurt or Artie, but she's your friend and so is Mack, and this isn't the worst life you could lead.
Admittedly, it's not the best one but that's because you're in love with someone who doesn't love you back, but you think that this place can help heal you in a way that Lima can't and you can live contently from now on.
Plus, you have Brittany's number, so you can start there with the whole platonic friendship thing.
"I outshine you anyway, so no difference to me," Mercedes throws back and winks at you, jutting her chin towards the office in the far side of the bar, where you know Cassie is probably doing the admin part of the business. You laugh but roll your eyes, but your friend speaks before you can ask how Cassie's been during your trip as you know she wasn't too happy, thanks to Mercedes updates during your time in Lima. "Hope you had a good time whatever you were doing, but you've gotta keep it up 'cos Crazy July is out in full force."
You roll your eyes again but push up from the bar and peer over your shoulder, pausing before you head into hell. "Probably not the best time to tell her I'm going back in a month then," you quip with a smirk, because even if Cassie's pissed, she has a soft spot for you and you're going to exploit that with your request. Better to get it over and done with now and ensure that you will go back before you find reasons not to.
Mercedes waves you off, throwing her head back to chortle loudly and you beam her a grin before going straight into the office to face your boss.
/
How we feeling now?