Title: After All This Time
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 7.9k
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: Sorry for the lack of updates! Life gets in the way!
/
By the time the employees start filing in to prepare for the night, you are exhausted.
Somehow Brittany roped you, Kurt, and Sugar into getting up on the stage and filling in for a few dancers who hadn't arrived yet whilst she taught the number, but you think it was mainly to hide in plain sight that she could touch you and adjust your movement with her hands on your hips and get too close, but no-one would notice as it was under false pretences. It tested your restraint, and you clicked your tongue at her several times when her fingertips brushed too high on your ribs, which just made her giggle and wink at you and you almost jelly legged to the floor.
But still, the dancers learn quickly and it's not long before Cassie and Mercedes are turning up, with fucking Rachel Berry behind them.
She's just as irritating as you remember – if not more – and you stop her mid-sentence when she begins fishing for sympathy by trying to explain how her attitude got her ass fired and walk away from her without even the decency of the excuse, to show that you're not interested in pretending to listen. She scowls at you and stomps her foot a little, and it's entirely amusing when Cassie snaps her fingers and like a trained dog, Rachel stops immediately and cowers, just like you imagined she would, and you manage to get away mostly unscathed, finding Kurt in the corner, slumped into one of the large booths with his folded up blazer beneath his head.
You approach him and kick his foot, startling him from his peaceful state and he snarls at you. "Get up, Lady Boy. I need to eat."
He grunts at you and sits up, bracing himself against the table. "Are you done pissing Rachel off now?"
"Almost," you grin back at him and peer over your shoulder, trying to find Brittany. You're hungry, and you kind of want her to come with you as you know she hasn't eaten anything since breakfast and that was like, almost 12 hours ago now. You also want to spend more time with her as you're leaving tomorrow, but you don't want to admit that out loud.
"Where is she, then?" Kurt asks, clambering out of the booth and reaching back over to grab his blazer, unfolding it, and plucking pieces of fluff off the fabric, but pausing when you don't answer immediately. "Don't bullshit me, Satan. I know what you two did earlier, remember?"
A blush creeps up on your cheeks and you're glad for the tan you got back in the city as it covers it perfectly. "Not sure. Think she went backstage."
"Well go get her then," Kurt replies, shrugging himself back into his blazer and pulling up the lapels around his neck. "See if she wants to come grab some food."
You roll your eyes but turn away, with him beside you, and move through the main room to the other side, finding Brittany in the corner with a clipboard and a few of the dancers who are already dressed up in their outfits. They're in showgirl costumes, and you're kind of intrigued as now the whole Tina Turner song choice makes more sense now but you're exhausted, and you also come across Cassie who makes a beeline for you, Mercedes sat up by the bar talking to Sam who's on it. Maybe he's a bartender here.
"I've knocked David Schwimmer down like ten pegs and I still want to drown her in the sink," Cassie half-yells as she stops in front of you, arms crossed over her chest.
She's pissed and has that wild look in her eye that you've seen come out when certain patrons get far too handsy with the girls at her bar, and for a second, you're scared. Not for you, but for Rachel Berry's sake. You used to want to chew off your own arm just to have something to throw at her back in high school, but you think Cassie might actually dislike her more.
But you still laugh, Kurt does too, and you peer behind your boss to see Rachel talking moving over to Sam and Mercedes and interrupting their flirtation at the bar. You're guessing it's that considering what Mercedes said earlier about jumping on him if it weren't for her boyfriend back in the city, and that Sam's been cleaning the same glass for about five minutes now in the same spot, and you know you're going to have to do damage control if Rachel tries intercepting your home girl.
When Wheezy wants something, she gets it. Like the time the local takeaway stopped doing tots. She literally protested outside for two weeks straight until they put it back on the menu.
So there's another reason why you need to leave before Sugar gets you to stay and watch the performance – you flew back from New York and came to opening night and that should be enough – and so you nod at Cassie and rock onto the balls of your feet, craning your neck to find Brittany as she's disappeared again. She sweeps out the back, almost as if she knew you'd be looking for her and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding when she catches your eye and comes straight over to you, flashing a quick smile at the others instead of verbally greeting them.
"Are you going?"
You bite your lip, not wanting to seem too eager because you know what you're going to ask her. "Yeah… Can you come?"
Brittany's face drops and she shakes her head a little, hooking her thumbs into her back pocket like she wants to reach out and touch you, but can't as there's people around. People that think you're trying to be friends. Well, not Kurt. Or Cassie and Mercedes seeing as they know she stayed over last night and you're hoping she might tonight, too, but they don't count.
(Although that kind of rules out everyone stood around you, so you have no point but shut up.)
"I can't," she whispers, eyes apologetic as they meet yours. "Sugar wants me to stay for the new number. Make sure everything goes smoothly."
It's not what you wanted to hear, but you've had enough of that for one night and you can see she genuinely wants to come with you. You haven't even said you're going to get some food and head home, but you don't think she needs to hear what the offer is. You think she'd say yes regardless, just to spend time with you and your stomach flips at the thought.
"That's cool," you bob your head and clasp your hands in front of you. You have to or you'll touch her. "I've gotta get Cassie and Mercedes away from here before it becomes a crime scene," you add on with a chuckle and Brittany's face scrunches up, blue eyes sparkling an impossible blue that makes something lodge in your throat. "They've seen a porno and met the people who starred in it and Rachel Berry is the one that's too much."
Brittany giggles louder, nose wrinkling up and God, you just want to kiss her. She's fucking adorable. "Okay. I'll call you later?"
Seeming like an innocent offer, you nod like you're not about to explode with excitement because you know what she's actually trying to say… Or at least hope. If she means she's going to call you in the same way she called you last night, then she might be climbing the fire escape again and suddenly you can't wait to leave, just to hit fast forward and go to bed, eagerly waiting for your phone to buzz on the side table.
And the thought makes a grin break across your face until you're having to physically push down the affection blossoming in your chest to remove it. Brittany catches it though, grinning bashfully back at you and clearly not giving a fuck that anyone can see. Then she's leaning in, hand grabbing yours as she presses her lips to the high of your cheek, lingering as she pulls back to meet your eye and you get lost in ocean blue for what feels like an hour until Kurt coughs behind you and you reel back, wide-eyed and breathing considerably harder than you were a second ago.
Shit. How long were you out?
"Bye, San," she utters, her voice so fucking soft that the words curl around your heart and warm it and then she spins and walks away.
You swallow thickly, watching her retreating form until the sound of Mercedes raising her voice rings loudly in your ears and you're tugging her away from the bar and out the door with Cassie who points two fingers towards her eyes, silently telling Rachel she'll be watching out for her.
/
You get back to your rented accommodation and order over way too much Chinese food.
A guy (you think is probably related to the Chang's you went to school with) delivers it, and you give him a decent tip as you're living far more comfortably than you used to and he ogles your tits for a good 10 seconds before you're hissing him and regretting giving him a twenty. You kick the door shut, holding a pot of sauce up in the air with the bags of food dangling from your arm and everyone gathers on the sofas, Cassie bringing some crockery and Mercedes unpacking the food when you give it to her.
You all eat and then veg out on the sofas watching television for a bit before Kurt gets up and says he has to leave. He's been on his phone since you stopped eating, and you're familiar with the sound of Grindr when you hear it thanks to your extensive friendship with him, and it makes you laugh as he gets all flustered before he leaves. You don't know who he's dating, or banging, but you're kind of glad he's still being as much of a hoe as you used to be and moving on with his life, ready to move to New York to join you.
Anyway, you tell Cassie and Mercedes you're going to bed and change into comfy clothes immediately when you get to your room, tossing your worn ones on top of your suitcase as you're leaving tomorrow. You stare at the damn thing for a good three minutes, trying not to feel the throb in your chest about not being able to count down the hours until you can see Brittany anymore as it'll soon be counting weeks or even months again, because that suitcase is going on a plane soon and you're going with it.
But you don't want to think about that right now and without thought, you head to the window and unlatch it, pushing it open and locking it in place, just in case you get another midnight visit. She hasn't called you yet and the last note you left on was that she would, so you don't want to seem too eager by sending her a text with the big eye emoji, which will make her laugh and then perhaps speed up the process of dialling your number, but you also know if she happens to be on the sidewalk and happens to look up at your window, she might see it open and take that as an invite.
Which it is, but it's not like you're getting a neon sign with BRITTANY, COME IN and hanging it off the fire escape.
You climb into bed after switching off the light, but you don't lie down, instead sit up with your legs crossed and pretend like you're not waiting for a sound outside the window, or maybe your phone vibrating on the table next to it, but you're not convincing anyone, so you give up and just stare straight at it. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, beginning to feel nervous that maybe you overthought what she said, and she isn't going to come over tonight, and flop back to the bed after your back begins aching, choosing to look up at the ceiling.
But it's only a minute or two more before you there's a familiar creaking of metal and you sit up, back as straight as a pole and watch the window as a shadow covers it and then there's a darkened figure clambering through the window and you breathe properly for the first time in ten minutes. Brittany slides in with complete grace, like only a dancer can do and you're momentarily distracted with the thought she'd make a good cat burglar as she heads straight for the bed, not even bothering to pause before she's stripping down and sliding into bed with you.
You thought she was going to call, but you don't even care when your hand goes to her hair against the pillow, feeling the dampness and you realise she's been home to shower. She smells like the strawberry shampoo she always used to use, and you inhale it for a long moment, reminiscing the many times she got too close, and you were in a position like this. Those memories are nothing in comparison to now, as she smiles softly and closes her eyes, tucking her head into your neck and throwing an arm over your waist, pulling you down until you're tightly intertwined.
Legs tangled down the other end of the bed, and you fit together like you always have done, and it feels so much like it used to, before the porno and before the drama, that you get lost in the silence and enjoyment you're getting from this moment.
But then Brittany speaks, and it's low enough not to startle you as she leans back, tilting her head against your shoulder to look up at you, but you don't look down, fully aware that then you'd be in kissing distance and you're not sure you can handle being that close to her. When she kissed you on the cheek earlier, you nearly passed out and you don't want to do that right now. You're going home in less than 24 hours, and you want to soak up as much time with her as possible.
"Did you eat?"
You frown at the question, not thinking she was going to ask that of all things but reach up and comb your fingers through her hair with the arm you've got tucked beneath her. "Yeah, we had Chinese. Did you?"
Brittany hums and you feel her breath coat your jaw. You're going to need her to back away soon or you're going to kiss her, and you didn't have sex last night so you don't think you will tonight, even if she didn't bother calling and just turned up. Not that you're bothered at all, but you just aren't getting those vibes. This is very domestic and it's a part of your relationship that you didn't realise you missed.
"Yeah… Sugar ordered like twenty pizzas even though there's ten dancers," she murmurs into your skin, and you resist the urge to shiver, instead laughing because Sugar is so over the top like, all the time.
"That's dumb," you reply, voice raspy in the way you know Brittany likes it and she props herself up on her elbow to look down at you, but there isn't the darkness in her eyes you expect, and she moves her hand from your waist to grab at yours, sliding your fingers together and pulling it on top of your stomach. "Why didn't you call me?"
Brittany stills, eyes flitting over to the window but when she looks back, she shrugs and smiles. "Saw your window was open, so I kind of took that as an invitation," she explains, and you can't help but grin, even when her brows push together, and she looks confused all of a sudden. "Unless you were waiting for someone else to come in through your window."
You laugh at her and shake your head, pushing at her shoulder with your intertwined hands because she's ridiculous. "No, it was for you," you retort, wanting to make sure that she knows that was your plan all along and you love the way she still gets you, even when you say nothing at all. "But you could've used the front door, you know."
"I know, but the fire escape is so much cooler," the blonde fires back without a beat and you roll your eyes which makes her laugh more and then you're both just giggling at each other like little kids, and everything is beautiful.
There's no shit hanging around your shoulders in this instance. No staring eyes and no hesitations and no reminder that you're going home tomorrow, and you want to stay here forever. But you know you shouldn't feel that way, because technically, she still hasn't said that she loves you back, despite all her actions now pointing that way.
Those actions though… Those actions are thing she's done all along, but you've been the one to bare your feelings and offer your heart out, and you don't want to do it again because you're still as terrified as the first time, and question them, even if those actions are making everything making more sense now. You're reading everything she's doing differently, and feeling everything differently, too. Every touch of her hand and quirk of her lip makes you want to burst into flames, but even if you did, you wouldn't care if you were to turn to ash.
It would be worth it because she would be the one lighting you on fire.
It must show on your face that your mind has wandered off, because the next thing you feel is Brittany sliding her hand out from yours and coming up to your face, tilting your jaw until brown eyes meet blue. Her expression is serious, and for a second you're scared she's actually reading your mind because you can see her taking in every twist of features, like the cock of your brow and the purse of your lips and without another hesitation, she's leaning down and kissing you.
She takes your breath away, in every respect, and your eyes flutter shut when she deepens the kiss immediately, tongue stroking confidently into your mouth and you're powerless to resist. Every part of her occupies you and invades every part that you don't want anyone to see, but all she does is love and comfort it and your hands move to her waist, pulling her until she rolls on top of you, legs bracketing your hips.
You don't know what look was on your face, but you didn't expect her to react like this and you want to linger on that, pull away and get some answers, but you don't think she wants to talk. You don't know what she fucking wants though and that's the most frustrating part because you've literally asked her outright, and she's only answered it by kissing you and there's still a huge part of you that's worrying that she doesn't know what to say, which you think is worse than her telling you outright that she doesn't love you.
Because the silence isn't so comfortable anymore. The impending doom of you flying back to another city, to live another life, with other people is hanging heavily over your head and it was easy to ignore when you could remind yourself you still had more time here. It was easy to ignore it when you were counting down the hours until you saw Brittany again because she was right down the street, but tomorrow she won't be, and you don't know how to deal with that.
So, you have to ask. You just have to get it out there because you don't know why you're doing this again when you know how it all ends.
"What are we doing?" You pant into her mouth, taking advantage of the miniscule time between her kisses and she pulls back, not far enough to be too far away, but enough that you can see her face clearly. Her hair is falling in golden tendrils around your face, putting you in this private space where no-one could peek in on from the outside, and you almost forget you said anything when she exhales shakily.
"I don't know," she breathes, voice hoarse and it reminds you of what you're in the middle of doing.
But you feel like you need to remind her that you're still going tomorrow. You need to know that she knows that regardless of how many hours you spend between these sheets, that you're still getting back on a plane and flying to another city to live the life you have there now, the one you had to build without her and that if she can't do it, you would understand.
It's not like you want to understand, but those plans aren't changing unless you're given a reason to stay, and this would be a good opportunity for her to speak up. You've done enough talking about how you feel, and you don't know what she wants.
"I'm going back tomorrow… I'm going back to New York tomorrow."
Brittany nods too much for it to be normal, and you then realise it's more of a head shake than a nod like she doesn't want to hear it, but it's out there now and if you're going to stop, you need to stop now or you won't be able to control yourself. Not that you've done a stand up job of doing that in the past two days, but you honestly think if she told you she just wants her best friend back in a platonic way, then you could do it.
You love her too damn much to just walk away from her completely, even though it would be torture on a daily basis.
But you love her enough to do that. After all of this, you now that the love you have for her is more than anything you've ever known, stronger than anything else, and it's got a hold on you.
"I-I know," Brittany stutters, finally finding her voice and her thumbs stroke over your skin where her hands are holding your cheeks and you can see the emotional torment behind blue eyes. "But I don't know," she finishes off, answering the question you asked a minute ago and well, that's enough.
Because you don't know either.
You may not know what she wants, or what you want really as you're now torn between friendship and this with her, connecting on every level, but you do know that you want her in every single way possible, and right now, she wants you too.
So you let her sit you up and pull the t-shirt over your head. You watch her as she does the same to her own, revealing tight abs and pink nipples and you salivate at the sight. You let her steal your breath as she pushes your hands either side of your head and sucks at your pulse point with intent until you're bucking up into her, needing more.
You allow her to tug your boxers down and stroke you slowly, and you just end up marvelling at every move she makes until she's sinking down on to you and breathing out a sigh of relief and your heart begins beating to the rhythm of Brittany, Brittany, Brittany.
/
In the morning, it's different.
You wake up, laying on your chest with your hands beneath the pillow, face mashed into it as you stare at the sleeping form of Brittany, right next to you, in a similar position. Your eyes flit over her shoulder to the clock on the side table, to read the time to be 6am, and you know that means you've got six hours until your flight, but about four until you need to leave, and all you want to do is spend those four hours like this; right next to her, soaking in every last piece you can until you go, because even though you haven't left, you think you're missing her already.
She's beautiful. She's breath-taking. She must have been created by the Gods or some higher force, and you're surer than ever that somehow… Somehow she loves you back. Somehow, she feels everything you do and you're so fucking certain, but the only thing holding you back is that she isn't saying it. You're scared to push her, fearing a repeat of the last time you opened up, and based off that, you can't see how you two are supposed to be just friends if she isn't going to tell you, or what it's going to mean from here for you two.
Pure friendship just isn't in reach anymore, not with what it's been replaced with, with what you've discovered, and you don't know what to do. Now you're completely torn because you're leaving to live another life, and that was always the plan, but you just didn't anticipate what it'd be like to actually be here, like in bed with her after the few days you've had together.
Some part of you thought it might have gone this way, but you were so hyper-focused on trying to chase platonic feelings between you when they just didn't exist, that you hadn't prepared for this, or what's next.
The second you leave, you're back to being Santana from the city, not from Ohio. You're the person dancing on a bar six nights a week, trying to find another path as the one you thought you were on went awry. You're going to be away from her, and you're going to be single (even though you are right now in this moment, but it just doesn't feel like it) and she will be too, and both of you can do whatever the hell you want.
There's no labels, no discussion about feelings this time bar small references, and you don't think that's going to change in the next four hours.
Half of you wants to just let Cassie and Mercedes head back alone without you and you stay here to figure out what the hell is happening between you and Brittany. You just want to lock yourselves away until it's all out in the air and clarity is given, but you've both had time for that. Brittany's had time to clear up all the confusion, but it's just been added to instead and you can't imagine your boss would be too happy with you not coming back either.
It's at that thought that blue eyes open, pausing your internal monologue and Brittany grabs at your hand between you instantly, resting on the sheets and moves it to her face instantly, on her cheek, not speaking, not moving after. Her eyes meet yours as she blinks away the fatigue, and you just stare into them, going back over how gorgeous she is in every way possible. When she's dressed up to the nines, when she's just got out the shower… She's beautiful regardless, but you think that her, laying in the lazy sunlight beaming through the window, haloing her golden hair, you've never seen anything quite like it.
And it just reinforces your conflict over going back to New York. It just makes that urge to stay here burn even stronger, but what comes next zaps it straight out of your mind.
"When is your flight?" Brittany whispers, the first thing spoken verbally. With that one look, you think you've just had an entire conversation, even though she was asleep half the time.
"Midday," you reply, the rasp she likes evident in your tone, and she shifts closer, but the answer makes something flash behind blue eyes as she peers over her shoulder quickly, noting the current time. "Gotta be at the airport like an hour or two before though."
Brittany turns back around, exhaling shakily and her eyes dart around, noting your belongings still darted around the room. You don't like it, because you think you know where she's going with her thoughts, and you are too. Highlighting the time has only highlighted how little time you have until you're leaving.
"Do you need help packing?"
Something heavy drops in your stomach and yup, you're on the same wavelength, too, but you're still also disheartened as this is another golden opportunity for her to throw your stuff out the window or something dramatic and stop you from going. That'd be okay with you, but you just don't think it's coming, so you need to answer. If you're actually leaving, like you are (most likely) going to, you want to spend as much time with her as possible and you guess that's what she wants too, if she's offering.
"If you don't mind clearing up after those two asshats," you retort, trying to bring a lightness into it because if you start talking about leaving, another L word is going to spill from your lips and you're not going to be the one to say it. You've done your part.
Brittany holds your eye and giggles, but it doesn't reach her eyes and she's going to need to stop doing that if you're going to go. That fucking look is going to break you and if she wanted you to stay, she would say so.
Still, it surprises you when instead of answering verbally, she takes your hand away from her face and drops it between you, and you take the opportunity to pick it back up and bring it to your mouth, kissing the back of it, almost like you're telling her it's okay to be sad. You're sad too, and you think if you give her little nudges like this, it might crack something within her and all your suspicions will be confirmed as she tells you how she feels, once and for all.
Apparently, she seems to sense what you're doing, but she doesn't respond in the way you expected. Instead, blue eyes fall to the motion, watching you as you retract her hand and smile at her softly, and she exhales loudly through her nostrils, brows furrowing at you like she's falling hard and fast and doesn't even care, and then she's moving forward, confidently nudging your face up with a single stroke of her nose and pressing her lips to yours.
It doesn't last long, but strong hands move to your face and hold it against hers, longing out the kiss and even though it's not erotic, or arousing, it feels like so much is being transpired through just this one simple action and you melt into her, grip moving to her waist beneath the sheets. Brittany may not be stroking her tongue along the inside of your teeth, but you could die right now, and you'd be dying happy.
But then she's pulling back, resting her forehead against yours and keeping close, eyes shut as she hums quietly for a short few seconds. She inhales but her chest shudders, and you just stare at her closed lids, wishing more than anything for her to open her eyes. Then she could see the look in yours and you know it's nothing but unbridled affection and love and if she could see it then maybe she'd ask you to stay.
Except she doesn't.
Instead she speaks, quietly and like she doesn't want to be saying the words and something cracks inside your chest.
"You should go shower," she whispers, words painting in a breath against your lips, and you reel back, head cocking to the side. It's only then that blue eyes open and you hold them, squinting your own because she's not doing what you were hoping for. She's letting you go. "I'll start packing your clothes."
And you want more than anything to just grab her and shake the answers you think are true out of her. You want her to anchor you to the bed, refuse to let you go and tell you that she loves you back. You want that movie ending, but it's just not coming and it's not the ending you wanted. It's not the happy ending that you deserve, but you guess you're still in a better position than when you came and that will have to (somehow) be enough.
So, reluctantly, you do as you're told and drop a kiss to her cheek before sliding out of bed.
You take forty-five minutes to shower, hoping the sound of the water covers your quiet sobs.
/
Later on, you're with your friends and Brittany in the front room.
There are bags of rubbish darted around – you guys are fucking messy apparently – and some suitcases are ready by the door. Cassie and Mercedes weren't surprised by the Brittany's presence when you wandered out from your room earlier, they just said she really could use the front entrance and should do next time you visit which didn't make you feel any better because it still means you're going.
But Brittany just grabbed a few empty trash bags and started tidying up in the kitchen, and Cassie looked between you with confusion, but you didn't know what to say, so you just shrugged. There was nothing to say. She slept over, you had sex this time, and it was different from the other times but also the same. There's still this grey area sliding in, even if you're convinced you both see the black and white and it's too late now.
The cab is due to arrive in five minutes, and Brittany heads into your bedroom to finish packing your carry-on without you asking, and Mercedes takes the opportunity to speak up since she and Cassie have both been side-eying you and Brittany for the past three hours. You haven't left each other's sides since you got out the shower and it's been light but there's still been this tension as no-one knows what's going on.
Not even you, to be honest.
"So, what's the deal?"
You look to Mercedes who comes over to you and grabs a trash bag, like she's going to take it out. Cassie does the same, but it's a weak cover up to eavesdrop in on the answer and you exhale unsteadily before responding. "Nothing. I'm going back with you guys and we're friends again."
Cassie's the one to step forward, a deep dip between her eyebrows. "Did she not ask you to stay?"
Your eyes find the hallway, spying the bedroom you were sleeping in, just in case Brittany chooses this specific moment to come out but nope, she doesn't. "No…" You reply slowly, turning back to them. "I don't think she wants that."
"Girl, you can't be serious," Mercedes cuts in, matching Cassie's expression. It's confused. It's bewildered. It's not quite believing the words coming out your mouth but you're just speaking the truth. If Brittany wanted to stay, she would've said. You've been together since last night and sure, it's not like she would've asked in the middle of sex, but you've had more time where you weren't doing that over when you were.
"We said we wanted to be friends again," you shrug, even though every part of you is wanting to say something else, but that wouldn't be speaking the truth. "I think we're that now so we're good," you shrug again. You really don't know what else to say.
They share a look, then eye you again and you force yourself to look away. The last thing you need is for them to be as doubtful as you are because there's so much unfinished business here and you refuse to believe you're crazy without them eying you like you are. You refuse to believe that Brittany hasn't felt everything between you. Hasn't melted with every kiss and experienced the intensity of emotion that comes with your connection because you did, and that just doesn't happen to one person.
You don't want to be the only person to feel the loneliness, and you don't think you can be after these past few days. You hope she's lost because you are too when she isn't around in this capacity. You hate to think she's better off without you, even though her not reflecting your feelings is doing a prime job of that itself and that's a hard pill to swallow, but if that's what she wants, then you'll do it. You know there's a fire between you, but they don't burn forever, and maybe this is the beginning of a new flame or maybe it's what you needed to dance in the flame until you crumbled to ashes.
You don't fucking know. All you do know if that you came here hoping to escape with a friendship with Brittany again, and you've done that, even if it's been in a really fucked up way, but you'll always be best friends. She'll always be the better half of you and that's something you'll go to the grave with. As long as Brittany's in your life, you'll figure out how to be okay.
(Even if there's something that wants so much more.)
(You just know it's there. You know it.)
You hear a thud, which sounds like something hitting the floor and look back to your room, knowing Brittany's in there and you need to tell her you're going soon. Cassie and Mercedes suck their lips into their mouths like they're holding back saying anything else, which you're happy about as you don't have anything else to add, and offer a light tipped smile as they shuffle out the door to take out the trash.
You exhale loudly, folding your arms over your chest and brace yourself before heading back into the hallway, pausing when you get to the doorway and find Brittany lowering herself to the end of the bed, glancing up to look at you as she clasps her hands between her knees. You don't say anything, just pull your lip up to the side and silence sets in, and you want to say something that'll make this feel better, but it's heavy and sad and you don't know how to take it.
You don't even know where to stand so you chose to stay by the door, knowing if you step inside you'll probably lock the damn thing behind you and hide here for as long as possible, because you haven't had to say goodbye to her like this before. The last time, there was so much left unanswered and even though those questions are still in the same status, it just feels different. It's like there's been development, but you've run out of time, and you think that's why you just stare at each other for a while instead of talking immediately.
But Brittany's the first one to speak, biting her bottom lip and clenching her jaw several times before she finds the strength she needs, and you get why it was necessary the second your mind registers the words.
"I'm gonna miss you, you know."
Yeah, you know. You're going to miss her in a way that you can't explain. You're going to be dying inside every day that you're apart, but you'll still have that warmth inside your heart because you know it's closer to hers. There was a time when that wasn't the case and it hurt more to pretend like you don't miss her, than just acknowledge that you do and that's progress, so you know you can be honest and tell her the truth.
"I'm gonna miss you more," you reply, holding her eye and trying not to notice the heat suddenly creeping up behind your eyes, but then you swallow and feel the lump there and a single tear leaks out.
You swipe it away, trying to hide that you're freaking crying as you don't cry – that's just not you because emotions are gross – but you can't help it. Something is yanking at your chest, restricting your lungs and you're almost embarrassed but then you're looking back and finding red eyes, a piercing blue, staring back at you and Brittany's crying too. It's stupid, because this is so easy in so many fucking ways but it's also not because there's so much at stake here, there's so much that could go wrong, and you still don't fucking know if she loves you back.
(Even though you think you fucking do.)
"God, this is so stupid," Brittany breathes, her voice pitching too high as she reaches up and wipes at her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie. "We're still going to talk."
It's a statement, not a question and you find yourself nodding even though you want to talk about something else more. You want to just demand answers, and you're trying to get it out of Brittany by looking between each of her eyes, not responding verbally because you think you can see it on the tip of her tongue. You think more than ever, she loves you back, but she just isn't fucking saying it and that bothers you more than anything.
Why can't she just say it?
"We're friends again, right?" She continues, and it's so not what you want that it's physically painful to sit here and listen to it, but you're stubborn. You don't want to open up again because you barely got through it the first time and you don't think you could do it again. You want to hear those three words come from her, a reaffirmation of how you think she feels but you aren't going to be the one to air it this time.
It's Brittany's time to speak and she's chosen to hover over the friendship, so you guess you know where you stand. You guess your answer lies right there, with the word you fucking hate when people talk about you and Brittany now, even though you used to convince people of it. You are friends. That's the label that you're going to carry on your flight home and you trying to find a way to be okay with that somehow.
But you're not right now, even if that's not what leaves your mouth.
"Yeah," you confirm with a bob of your head, sniffling loudly and trying a weak smile to convince her that you're handling this status. "It feels like it used to," you breathe, tongue curling up, rejecting the sentence. "Even if it doesn't, you know?" You squint, hoping she's going to at least give you the sign that you're not going to head straight into an asylum after imagining everything, because if you're going to be friends, you need to know that it's on new grounds and not like it used to be.
Maybe you won't sleep together next time. Maybe you won't have these moments and maybe you can have a video call a day instead of a text to keep you on your toes. Maybe this is something you can discover and with time, you can find a way to handle it and start getting over it, as you're nowhere near there yet. You can't even begin to thinking of letting go but maybe when you get back to New York, you can begin.
Luckily, Brittany nods, accepting that this is old but new, and it's good enough. It's not what you wanted, but when have you got what you wanted with you two?
But you don't get to press anymore, because then there's the sound of the front door opening and you hear Cassie and Mercedes calling your name, shouting that the cab is here and that's your cue to leave.
"Yeah," Brittany breathes, patting her thighs once before getting to her feet and hooking her thumbs into her pocket with one hand, the other reaching for your carry on suitcase. "Can't be late for your flight."
You don't want to go, but you know you have to, and you push off the doorway, freezing the second Brittany steps towards you and reaches out, removing her hand from her jeans and offering it out to you. It's only a small gesture, but it feels like so much more and you find it hard to breathe when you look into blue eyes, seeing Brittany smiling so fucking sadly at you that you want to fall into the foetal position on the floor and sob.
But that won't make anything easier, and with a quivering bottom lip, you take her hand and dip your head as you both head out into the front room to meet your friends, the suitcase dragging behind you.
/
Eeeeeek... Don't hate on me, but leave a review if you have time!