Limp and lightheaded with need mingled with lingering pain and the smallest, hesitant stirring of relief, Santana let Brittany catch her and hold her up. She couldn't summon the energy to lift her arms up enough to wrap back around her to help further support herself, not at first.
As Brittany helped her to the couch, Santana let herself slump against her, passive at first. Then as her shock began to slowly wear away, Santana shifted herself inch by inch, until she was lying chest to chest against Brittany, curled against her in her lap. She buried her face in the warm curve of Brittany's neck, her heartbeat beginning to hammer erratically in response to the steady beat of Brittany's pulse against her. She made no noise, but her hands silently moved to clutch onto Brittany, and hot tears began to dampen the skin of her neck.
Behind them, she was not aware of Kurt murmuring gratefully, "Oh thank god," and Rachel sniffled, trying not to cry herself.
Santana pressed her face more firmly against Brittany's skin, folding herself as small as she could make herself on her lap, as though she is seeking to emerge with Brittany as one being. Although she is crying quietly, she feels the terrible weight that was always heavy, nearly suffocating, on her chest ease just a bit even with her tears, just from Brittany's comforting touch and gentle, soothing tone. She soaks it in, her back quivering a little under Brittany's hand, and closes her eyes. She is too overwhelmed to think, let alone speak. For the first time in months, her mind is nearly quiet.
Watching her response, Kurt swipes at his eyes, then puts an arm around Rachel, giving her a squeeze around the shoulders when she leaned into him.
She was so comfortable with Santana in her lap, it felt like home. For how nervous and tense she had been when she took her firsts steps towards Santana, her body was relaxed now, she was trusting her instincts to comfort Santana, just as she always had, raking a gentle hand through Santana's unbrushed hair, smoothing it away from her face. Feeling her press herself impossibly closer into Brittany's skin, she soothed gently, "It's okay, San," feeling her quake gently against her body as she cried.
Something she noticed holding her was just how much weight Santana had lost. Santana had been curvier, but overall shorter and smaller than Brittany but now Brittany could feel the ridges of her spine where her hand rubbed gently against her back, feeling how frail and angular Santana's body had become.
When she noticed Rachel and Kurt looking on at the two of them like proud parents Brittany laughed breathily, her heart thumping at how much both of them really, truly cared about Santana. Brittany had never been especially close to Rachel or Kurt and she knew that they both had moments of self centeredness and drama, but both of them had shown up for Santana and so clearly cared deeply for her.
"Are you guys okay?" Brittany asked with a watery laugh, never stopping her hands as she spoke. "In all of our talking, I never asked either of you what you two were up to now," She explained, comfortable with speaking over Santana. She knew Santana knew what she needed to do to calm herself down, and if, for the moment, that was lay against Brittany while the three of them caught up and chatted, Brittany was all too willing to hold her.
Santana's heartbeat gradually calmed down to an only slightly abnormal rate, and her breathing slowed, almost regular. Her crying became only an occasional stray tear, and her body grew heavier with her increased relaxation against Brittany. She didn't care that Kurt and Rachel were witnessing this or that they had explicitly gone against what she ordered them not to do. All she cared about in that moment was being held, and specifically, being held by Brittany.
Kurt waved a dismissive hand at Brittany, letting Rachel go as they sat in the loveseat across from the other two. "Oh, forget it, we both understand, don't we, Rachel? And we're... we're getting by. I think we're all kind of in survival mode right now. Not that we're complaining, Santana knows we love her. I think she does, anyway," he glanced at the girl still hiding her face, saying that part as much to Santana as to Brittany. "But it is...it's been hard. For all of us."
Rachel chimed in, agreeing more emphatically, and then she and Kurt began to describe their latest endeavors and their hopes for them. Eventually Santana murmured into Brittany's neck, soft enough that only she could hear. "I didn't want them to tell you. I didn't want you to know. I didn't want you to see what...how I am now." She took a deep breath, her exhalation tickling Brittany's neck as she drew back slightly. "You should be a world away, performing. You're...you're worth more now."
She truly believes this, as much as she doesn't want Brittany to go.
As Kurt and Rachel took their seats across from her, Brittany listened intently, still twirling Santana's hair around her fingers. It was strange to think she'd be absent for so much of Santana's life after being by each others side nearly constantly since high school, save for their brief breakup. She listened to everything Rachel and Kurt had to say, treating each statement as valuable information and trying her hardest to commit it to memory.
Laughing just a little when Kurt said "I think she does, anyway" Brittany nodded sympathetically, "I can't imagine how hard it's been," She confessed earnestly, because even though they'd filled her in on everything, Brittany hadn't been there living through it day after day. Still, she was excited to hear that Rachel and Kurt both had exciting things coming up to look forward to and hoped that she'd be able to help the situation, even if only in small ways.
Brittany hadn't expected Santana to speak and was surprised when she did, hearing her soft voice, hearing her speak to her for the first time since she had emerged from her room and declared that Brittany must be just a dream. Santana's words broke Brittany's heart all over again, the joy and relief she'd felt once Santana reached for her sobering, realizing again why she was there after all. I didn't want you to see what…how I am now. Brittany's tongue swiped out to dampen her lips when Santana drew back slightly, looking down at her from what she could see. Santana's words only pierced her heart more now, and Brittany couldn't help but notice how dreary and sad her favorite voice in the world sounded.
"I'm glad they called me," Brittany said, her voice equally as quiet and soft, her eyes flicking up to meet Kurt and Rachel's in a silent thank you. "I'm sorry I wasn't here before. I understand why you didn't want me to know, but I wish I'd been here to help you." She confessed, revealing, in part, just how guilty she was feeling. Tilting her head down to rest her head against Santana's, she kept rubbing her back as she spoke, continuing her comforting ministrations. Whispering into Santana's hair, she went on. "I left the same day Kurt called. I never even contemplated staying." Pausing, she swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in her throat at some point. "You're still the very same Santana you've always been," She added, her voice whisper soft.
Kurt and Rachel had the grace to look away as they realized Santana and Brittany were finally having a discussion of sorts, busting themselves with coffee cups and straightening things that were not messy. They were clearly listening but trying to pretend not to. Not that Santana really noticed or cared.
She exhaled again, continuing to mumble in the direction of Brittany's face without quite meeting her gaze.
"But I'm not. You don't understand, you don't know. I'm not. You don't even know the person I am anymore. I wish I didn't know the person I am now."
"Santana, don't say that," Rachel couldn't stop herself from blurting, but Kurt shushed her, pulling her to her feet.
"Um...Rachel and I don't smoke...so I think we need fresh air. In...the bathroom."
"Oh, really, Kurt," Rachel protested, but she let him pull her up and away, shutting the bathroom door behind them. They were most likely pressing their ears against it, at least in Rachel's case, to keep listening with more apparent privacy provided all the same.
Brittany appreciated Kurt and Rachel's effort, even though she knew both of them were listening and if she looked over at them, they'd probably both be staring back at her. But she didn't care. She had Santana in her lap and they were talking for the first time in years.
Of course, what Santana was saying was making Brittany's heart break over and over again, her words resigned and sad. You don't even know the person I am anymore. - Brittany knew Santana didn't say it to directly hurt her, but, at the same time, Brittany knew it was true. Even if no tragedy had happened to her, maybe Brittany wouldn't know who she was now. For all the time they spent apart, they both could've changed in a million ways. It was a hard pill to swallow, but Brittany knew it wasn't about her now, it was about Santana.
Her suspicions about Kurt and Rachel were confirmed when Rachel responded to Santana as if Santana had been speaking directly to her rather than Brittany, and she threw Kurt an appreciative glance as he all but dragged Rachel into the bathroom. Then again, she wouldn't be surprised if Rachel responded right through the bathroom door.
"Kurt told me what happened to you," Brittany said, always blunt with her words. "Or at least, he told me everything I needed to know," She hesitated, not sure if there were details that Kurt and Rachel omitted or maybe even things Santana never shared. "And I know I haven't been her, and I really don't know, and I'm sorry. I should've been." She blurted. "But it happened to you, it's not who you are." Her voice was gentle, her hand picking back up it's rhythm of finger combing her hair. "I came here because I wanted to be there for you. Because Kurt said you needed me. And because I want to help you."
Santana closed her eyes, soaking up Brittany's stroking hand in her hair like a cat responding with pleasure to a human's petting touch. She is still gripping Brittany's arms with both hands, anchoring herself, anchoring Brittany from trying to leave her unconsciously. As she took in her words, a shiver ran down her back, and she pressed her lips into a thin line, swallowing hard.
"You don't know everything," she mumbled, another shiver taking over briefly, and she pressed herself back against Brittany's body in an effort to draw back warmth. "No one knows everything. I can't talk about everything. I..."
A flash of unwanted, intrusive thought hit, vivid in the intensity of visuals, odor, and physical bodily memory of the heavy weight and pain, unpleasant odors, and worst of all, the harsh hissed words, certain in their conviction of Santana's worthlessness, of her deserving of this cruel suffering endurance. She began to breathe shallowly, her chest struggling to fully lift and fill with breaths as she forced out her response through growing anxiety she tried to push through, shove down.
"It...it is...who I am. You don't know...you don't understand. You...you c-cant understand. No one can understand...n-no one..."
She gasps, her chest already aching with lack of proper full breaths. Still, she tries to explain herself to Brittany.
"Y-you shouldn't have to b-be here. You're b-better than being here. Y-you're... you're..."
Brittany was better than her. But as much as Santana believed it, she couldn't bring herself to clearly speak the words, at least not now, not yet.
She could feel the tickle of Santana's eyelashes against her collarbone and smiled softly, happy that Santana was seemingly responding well to her touches and comfort as they sat, both their bodies heavy and holding one another. Santana's arms hadn't moved since she'd placed them, gripping Brittany's arms as though she feared Brittany may vanish from beneath her finger tips. While it made her happy that she could be there and be what Santana wanted, it also made guilt pool in her stomach, heavy and low - how many times had Santana needed her and she'd failed to be here.
Santana's calm was short lived as she confessed that Brittany didn't know anything, nor did Rachel and Kurt. Feeling the shiver roll down Santana's body under her hand, Brittany made a comforting sound in the back of her throat, knowing the conversation had taken a turn and was making her agitated. She felt Santana press her body ever closer, surprised that she had so readily confessed that there were certain things she'd never told anyone. As surprised as she was, she felt a wave of sadness wash over her, realizing Santana was carrying those burdens all alone and had been the past few month. She felt an uncomfortable thrill of fear at that revelation as well - how bad were the things Santana was keeping to herself? The things Brittany already knew were awful, and she was shocked to hear that maybe, there were even worse parts of it all.
As Santana continued to gasp, Brittany patted her back rhythmically, her eyes flicking toward the bathroom door, slightly nervous. She supposed, if things got to a point where she couldn't comfort Santana anymore, she could call for Rachel and Kurt to help. Briefly, she considered sitting Santana up so she could breathe easier, but in the same instant she knew that peeling their bodies apart in that moment wasn't a good idea. And so she sat, both her arms now wrapped around her, speaking to her gently. "Okay, okay. I don't know everything." She confessed, "Just take a break from talking for a minute, okay?" Brittany said in her simple, just-so way, her voice loving and gentle. "Just sit here with me and see how you feel, San" She cooed, trying to make her own breathing steady and deep, her body rising and falling under Santana's. When Santana's breathing first picked up, Brittany felt afraid, but she was surprised to notice that feeling was quickly gone, at least for the time being. She was following her instincts, treating Santana gently and patiently as she always had.
Santana continued to struggle to breathe, trembling, her body twitching under Brittany's touch. Her chin dropped to her chest, which didn't help her difficulty with drawing full breaths.
Brittany should not be here. She knew that, had known it from the start of it all. She had her wonderful, successful life now, she had so much more to do and be than sitting here with Santana, staining herself with her. Dragging herself down for her.
Santana knew, although she could never quite bring herself to say it, that she was wrecking Kurt and Rachel's lives. That was bad enough, already something she hated about herself. For her to do it to Brittany too...she couldn't forgive herself if she let that happen. She couldn't let that happen.
She knew she should tell her that, explain. But she couldn't. She could barely draw coherent words as her body shuddered and automatically drew against Brittany for sought warmth and comfort that she felt desperately in need of, yet conflicted about seeking out.
"Y-y-you...you ...you sh-shouldn't...you..."
Worthless. Nothing. Whore. Dirty...how could she let Brittany even touch her? Yet how could she not?
Brittany could feel Santana trembling despite how hard she was pressing her body against her, witnessing first hand a little of what Rachel and Kurt had been trying to explain to her - how easily Santana could panic, how easily it could become difficult to breathe and for her to be upset despite the fact that nothing had happened - they were in the same position, Brittany hadn't stopped touching Santana since the moment Santana first reached for her. But she knew something as simple as their conversation had done this - mere words could cause this level of upset and panic to the woman she loved.
"Shhhhhh," Brittany coaxed as Santana shifted her body even closer to her, as if someone was about to pull them apart, "We can talk about that later, San, just sit with me for a minute, okay?" She coaxed, pressing soothing circles into her back with her shirt, trying to still her jerky, shuddering body. She knew Santana was making it harder for herself to breathe, the way she was curled so tightly against Brittany's body, her head tucked and buried. She should have her sit up, she knew, but Santana was trying so hard to close any possible gaps between them, molding her body completely to Brittany's shape that she didn't want to take that away from her.
Keeping her voice even and soft, she mumbled another slew of comforting words, trying to calm Santana's mind as much as her body. She knew, even before the traumatic incident, that when Santana focused on a certain thought, a certain pain point, it was all too easy for her to spiral, to let that one fact or statement eat away at her, adding fuel to the fire. Leaning her head down so her mouth was just above Santana's ear, she asked quietly, "Do you want me to get Rachel?" She'd never seen the two of them in action, not really, and she wasn't sure if Santana wanted Rachel's comfort right then, but Brittany couldn't deny that Rachel knew more about this situation than even she did.
Santana gulped for air, her thoughts flooded with the fear that always struck when she was in this modality. She couldn't breathe, she was going crazy, she already was crazy. She was about to die, to choke on her own anxiety.
Usually once she began this spiral downward, nothing would shake her out of it until she hyperventilated to the point of losing consciousness or naturally, painfully came down from it on her own. Rachel and Kurt's words if reassurance usually could not penetrate.
But Brittany's were. The steady, gentle words of love and comfort were seeping in, slowly overtaking the ones of shame, blame, and fear sparking through Santana's mind. Brittany wasn't upset or overwhelmed, Brittany wasn't asking anything of her but to rest and breathe. And slowly, slowly Santana was able to do just that.
She shook her head mutely against Brittany in reply to her asking if she wanted Rachel. No, as much as Santana loved the girl like a very loud, very annoying sister now- not that she ever actually said so- she didn't want Rachel. As wrong as it might be of her, she wanted Brittany.
As though her ears were burning from having her name spoken, Rachel called out hesitantly from behind the bathroom door.
"We can't hear what's going on anymore. Did Santana lose consciousness?"
"Rachel!" Kurt hissed, but Rachel ignored him.
"She does that occasionally when she's hyperventilating or hasn't eaten in too long. I know you're strong enough to pick her up, but although i do work out daily my upper body strength is a weakness, so I could never lift her although she is of course quite small. I would suggest staying clear of her fists if she's unconscious, sometimes she wakes up disoriented and violent."
"Not violent, Rachel, for the love of Lapone," Kurt groaned. "Scared."
"Easy for you to say not violent, you aren't the one who had to tell her makeup artist that your black eye was from hitting your face on a doorknob!"
Brittany's entire body was listening to Santana, attentive to how rigid her muscles felt, how shallow her breathing sounded, the feeling of how tight Santana was holding onto her. Although she was concerned, she didn't rush her, trying to give her the time she needed to emotionally reset without forcing her to sit up straight to help her breathe. She tried to keep any of the concern from seeping into her voice or her muscles, trying to keep her body heavy and relaxed under Santana, as if she could pass some of that calm through her own skin to Santana.
To fill the silence as she comforted Santana and to pull her mind away from the dark thoughts she was struggling against, Brittany kept talking quietly, saying whatever came into her mind. "We're just going to sit here and calm down for a little, and then you can eat breakfast and take a shower or something and then go from there," Brittany explained in a whisper-soft voice, trailing off because she didn't know exactly where to go from there, not knowing all the tiny details of Santana's life - if she had class that day, if she liked to leave the apartment, if there were places she liked to go and other places she didn't. More importantly, she didn't know her role in all of those things, her place in Santana's life now, or if she even had a place at all. Regardless, Brittany would let Santana lead, offering her both company and comfort.
When Santana shook her head silently, saying she didn't want Rachel, Brittany felt a flare of love, the gesture stirring something deep in her bones. Santana didn't want Rachel, she wanted to the two of them to keep sitting there. It may have meant nothing, but to Brittany, it meant everything. It meant she wasn't doing anything wrong, even though she'd had no practice, even though she was reacting on instinct. Surprisingly, what Brittany was doing seemed to be working, she noticed, hearing the way Santana's breathing wasn't quite as jerky and her body wasn't shaking as hard. Sighing in relief, Brittany hugged her tighter, relieved that she was at least breathing easier and seemed to be coming down from the panic.
Rachel's muffled, but still loud voice echoed through the bathroom door then, causing Brittany to furrow her eyebrows. Lose consciousness? That seemed extreme, but as she continued, with frequent interjection from Kurt, Brittany realized that it had happened before and that Santana had physically reacted to her fears before. Some of the things they'd discussed that morning had made Brittany curious of it, but Rachel's statement confirmed that for her, making Brittany wonder just how bad her nightmares could be.
"She's okay," Brittany said back loudly, glancing down at Santana to confirm this statement. She knew Santana didn't lose consciousness by the way she was still regulating her breathing, trying to fully calm herself down. And, of course, by how she still held tightly onto Brittany.
Santana was breathing mostly normally against Brittany now, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with hers. She opened her eyes, still unwilling to let go, and whispered against her skin. "I'm not hungry." Then, several seconds later, "I'm so tired, Brittany. I'm so tired."
She means this in so many ways. She's tired physically, emotionally, mentally. She's tired of herself and her thoughts, her fear, even her life as a whole.
From the bathroom Rachel pipes up again. "I've told her over and over again she has to eat. She really does look unhealthily thin, and I've tried to get her to eat some of my most nutritious vegan recipes but she just says-"
"Rachel, we are in the bathroom for a reason, will you just practice your damn scales or something?" Kurt groaned. "In your head! Not literally, you're right beside me and I'd rather have my hearing intact."
The briefest ghost of a smile twitched over her lips as Santana said back to them, finally in a near normal tone, "Shut up, Hobbit. Lady Hummel."
She was relieved to hear that when Santana spoke again, her voice was fairly steady and she didn't have to pause between her statements to catch her breath, whispering softly, but steadily against Brittany's skin, her head still heavy against Brittany's shoulder. She hadn't picked her head up since they'd sat down and Brittany was grateful she was able to offer Santana at least some comfort.
Brittany had taken to twirling Santana's hair again, combing the hair above her ear back from her face. "Okay, we can see how you feel later," She answered easily when Santana declined food. Just as she'd noticed when she first pulled Santana into her arms, she'd lost a drastic amount of weight - Brittany could see it in her face and feel how much smaller her body was against hers. She knew that was likely something they'd need to talk about and deal with, but she'd just gotten there and Santana had just calmed herself down again so she let the subject drop at that point.
When Santana, a few seconds later, confessed her exhaustion, Brittany sighed gently, her words weighing heavy on Brittany's heart. "I know," She hushed, wishing she could do more to take Santana's pain away. She couldn't imagine the Hell Santana was going through - her mind being a scary place not only when she was awake but also when she slept - an activity that didn't really even bring Santana any peace or rest. "I want to help you." She said gently, even though she knew there was so little she could do.
Then Rachel, from the bathroom, decided the topic of food was not dropped, causing Brittany to raise her eyebrows listening. She flinched when Rachel so blatantly called Santana unhealthily thin - Brittany could see that and feel that for herself. She listened to their banter back and forth for a bit, both of them loud enough to the point where it barely felt like they were a room away. "Thanks, Rachel," Brittany called, even though what Rachel said wasn't exactly a help to the situation, she knew she did care.
She didn't think Santana would speak to them, but when she did, she sounded so much like she had in high school that Brittany laughed out loud, burying her giggles in Santana's hair. She almost said "See- told you you're the same person," but held back, knowing from earlier that that was a sensitive subject and remembering there were things she didn't know. Instead, she hummed softly, reveling in the feeling of Santana's body against her own, a warm, comforting feeling she missed so much. "Do you want to try and go back to sleep for a little?" Brittany wondered. She knew Santana meant way more things when she confessed her exhaustion, but she could tell from both what Kurt and Rachel had told her and from the way Santana looked that she had barely been sleeping. "I won't move," Brittany added quickly, knowing getting off Brittany's lap was not something Santana was interested in at that point.
Santana didn't want to sleep, truthfully. She was afraid to sleep these days, even in Brittany's arms. She shook her head, shifting a little so she was slightly less heavily against her. She has lost enough weight that staying still for too long sometimes is painful, with her lessened muscle tone; it sometimes starts to hurt her joints and bones when she puts pressure against them for too long. She clears her throat, saying quietly, "I could use a shower. And brushing my teeth. I know I look disgusting."
"We can evacuate the bathroom if you wish!" Rachel called out. "And the apartment!"
"Rachel," Kurt groaned, clearly exasperated but having realized he could not control her. Then he added, "But she's right. We can.*
Brittany adjusted as Santana did, letting her arms fall to circle loosely around her, waiting patiently for her to speak, lapsing into a comfortable silence. At Santana's suggestion of a shower, Brittany nodded encouragingly, "That sounds good," She, at that point, would agreed to do whatever it was Santana wanted. She couldn't help the way her mind traveled back, back to a time where they had constantly showered together, holding each other under the steamy water in a time that seemed like ages ago but was really only a few years. "You don't look disgusting, you just look tired, and a little sad," Brittany said honestly, getting a chance to look at her face again now that it wasn't tucked so tightly against her neck.
She ran her hands up and down Santana's arm soothingly, continuing to look at her even though both Kurt and Rachel were speaking from the bathroom. When Santana met her gaze, Brittany rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a smirk at how involved Rachel and Kurt were in their conversations as if they weren't in the bathroom at all. "You guys can come out," Brittany called with a look over her shoulder, even though she quite liked being able to spend time alone with Santana. "Rachel sits with you while you shower, right?" Brittany asked, trying to remember everything she'd been told, "Do you want them to stay so she can sit with you?" Brittany asked.
Santana rolls her eyes little, huffing wordless disagreement at Brittany's statement of her not looking disgusting. She knows how she looks. The Santana of a few months ago would have been horrified, but now she barely cares, although she does avoid touching herself as much as possible or looking for more than a moment in a mirror. She rarely attempts makeup, never wears dresses- too easy access, too much attention drawn to herself that way that she no longer wants. Part of her wants to disappear, to become so small and beneath notice that no one would ever be attracted to her again.
Kurt and Rachel emerge from the bathroom, both eyeing the pair shrewdly, Rachel looking unabashed by her interfering comments. Both look somewhat stunned but relieved to see how relatively calm Santana looks. Rachel even opens her mouth to say something about it, but Kurt pinches her, causing her to squeak indignantly but distracting her attention.
Santana nodded at the question about Rachel staying with her while showering, her cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment. "Yeah. I know it's stupid," she muttered, defensive though there is no threat of being judged. " Can you, Rachel? For a minute?"
As Rachel agreed, and Kurt told the women he was heading out, he bid them goodbye, giving Brittany a huge smile and squeezing her shoulder. He hesitated, never usually touchy feely with Santana and especially not lately, but then took a risk, leaning forward to hurriedly kiss the top of her head. He withdrew before Santana could try to hit him, waving goodbye as he left.
Santana made a face towards his retreating back and then smiled, slightly more than before. She stood slowly, her muscles stiff, and with Rachel chattering nearby, went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She started to undress, then paused, biting her lip as she glanced towards the closed door.
She wanted Brittany with her now. Brittany, not Rachel. Rachel was her friend, more so than she ever could have thought possible, and she was grateful for her, but it was Brittany she wanted near. She knew that wasn't probably right, given they weren't together- and she definitely felt insecure about asking her to be there to see her naked body. She no longer had the same curves that Brittany was so familiar with; just as Brittany no longer knew the Santana that she had become, she no longer knew Santana's new body. What would Brittany think if she saw her fully bare to her now, in more ways than one?
And yet, she wanted her there. So badly.
She wavered, torn, and then finally said to Rachel, "Can you...can you get Brittany? But tell her not to look."
Brittany shook her head with a smile as they both burst out of the bathroom like they hadn't actively been participating in the conversation all along, catching the way Kurt pinched Rachel to stop whatever was coming out of her mouth next. "What did you guys talk about in there?" Brittany deadpanned. Her voice was emotionless, like it always was when she was sarcastic, full well knowing that Rachel and Kurt had been hanging on Brittany and Santana's every word, her eyes glinting mischievously.
When Santana nodded, she focused her attention back on her, brow furrowing. "It's not stupid," Brittany added quickly, quietly, remembering a time when Santana wouldn't even let Brittany use that word. "Plus, Rachel told me she actually doesn't mind, I heard she practices singing the entire time," Brittany added lightly to take away from Santana's embarrassment, catching the way she ducked her head. As Kurt headed out, Brittany returned his smile, silently mouthing a thank you as he squeezed her shoulder, incredibly thankful he had made the snap decision to call her. The smile stayed on her face as she watched Santana and Kurt interact, her eyes on Santana as Santana watched Kurt retreat, Brittany's heart fluttering at the smile that appeared on Santana's mouth.
Helping Santana climb off her lap, Brittany held her forearm gently, making sure she was steady on her feet before letting go. While she was glad Santana was calm enough to get up and shower, Brittany instantly missed the warmth of her and a small part of her wished that they could've sat there all day, wrapped in their own little world (although, it was more like their own little world that Kurt and Rachel were also a part of). Standing up herself, she watched both Santana and Rachel vanish into the bathroom, throwing a small smile Rachel's way as a thank you.
Now alone, Brittany figured she should also get herself semi-ready. She'd neglected any form of self care since her quick shower before she left Germany for New York. Her bag stood where she'd left it hours earlier, abandoned by the door, and Brittany had only just started to crouch down and rummage through it, coming up with her hairbrush and toothbrush when she heard the bathroom door click open and heard Rachel's voice calling for her. "Brittany? Santana wants you in there with her," She explained, and Brittany felt as though her stomach had exploded into a million little butterflies. She nodded, agreeing with Rachel's order that Brittany wasn't allowed to look.
Holding her toothbrush and hairbrush in one hand, Brittany clamped the other one across her eyes, as if to reassure Santana she wouldn't peak or open them until Santana was behind the curtain. Slipping in the door, Brittany heard what must have been Rachel reach in and close it behind them, leaving her and Santana alone in the bathroom. "I'm not peaking," Brittany giggled, speaking in the direction of Santana.
Not at all phased that she didn't have her vision, she reached in front of her until she felt the counter, setting her toothbrush and hairbrush on it and then feeling for the toilet, sitting on the closer lid with her other hand still covering her eyes. "Tell me when I can open," She said softly.
Santana waited until she was sure Brittany was definitely not looking at her before she continued removing the rest of her clothes and got into the shower. As she adjusted the water, she told her she could look, smiling a little at how seriously Brittany had taken her request and how cute she had looked walking blinded. She turned her face up to the water and let it run over her body, turning the water to the hottest temperature possible. Lately she couldn't feel even somewhat clean unless she had basically scalded herself. It had become routine enough that Rachel woke up far earlier than her to shower with hot water and Kurt showered at night.
She stood for several minutes under the water, soaking it in, and then washed her hair. She scrubbed her body roughly and thoroughly, using the washcloth so she touched her skin very little. When she finally shut off the water after all the heat had been used up, her skin was red, the bathroom full of steam, and the mirror was fogged up. Exactly how she preferred.
"Cover your eyes again," she directed Brittany softly, before stepping out and drying herself off, wrapping the towel around herself. Even in the bathroom's steam and the aftermath of her hot shower she was shivering; she was always cold lately. Glancing down at the pile of clothes she had slept in, she realized she hadn't brought something to change into, but she feels weird leaving the bathroom undressed even in a towel with Brittany there.
"Um...can you get me something to wear?" She asked a little awkwardly. "I'd send Rachel, but her fashion sense has only improved so much with age. I don't want to know what she would do with the opportunity to make me her scary Berry clone."
Brittany sat with her hand over her eyes, grinning, until Santana granted her permission to look. Even before she took her hand away from her eyes, Brittany could feel her skin prickle with warmth and felt the dampness of steam on her skin, knowing Santana had to be showering in incredibly hot water. She didn't know if Rachel did anything specific to make sure Santana was calm while she showered, so Brittany took to narrating everything she was doing. "I'm brushing my teeth and washing my face now," Brittany explained, scrubbing the steam off the mirror above the sink, taking a moment to look at herself. She looked exhausted, not nearly as much as Santana, but it was clear the travel and emotional warfare of the past day had left her looking bedraggled and exhausted.
Sticking her toothbrush under the sink, she quickly brushed her teeth and washed her face using a face wash that could've been Santana's, Rachel's or Kurt's, splashing water on her face. "I used whoever's grapefruit cleanser that is," Brittany giggled, continuing to narrate just so Santana knew she was still in there. Sitting back down, she raked her brush through her hair to smooth it out before setting her brush down, deciding that was as far as she was going to get in terms of making herself look better.
"Do you have class today?" Brittany wondered, curious if Santana would go and how much of class she actually attended. It made her smile a little to think of student-Santana. Even in high school, Santana was always wickedly smart, something she never spoke about and something not many people knew. Brittany had barely ever watched her get anything lower than an A in anything, and she was one of the few people Santana spoke to about school, one of the only people who saw how excited she got when she talked about things she was passionate about and papers she'd worked hard on.
Obediently, Brittany shut her eyes and covered them again, listening to the metal shower rings being pulled as Santana stepped out, waiting to be told she could open them. At Santana's request, Brittany didn't bat an eye or ask a question about why Santana couldn't go fetch her own clothes but instead nodded, promising she'd be right back before she slipped out the door quickly, trying to seal as much of the warmth in before she moved over to Santana's area, explaining to Rachel what she was doing as Rachel followed. Rachel helped her, pulling out things she needed and explaining that Santana liked to be as covered as possible, pressing leggings and a sweatshirt into her hands along with a bra and pair of underwear. "Thank you, Rachel," Brittany told her earnestly before she headed back to the bathroom, knocking to announce her presence before slipping back in with a smile, handing Santana her clothes before taking her seat again, covering her eyes without having to be asked.
Santana was soothed by Brittany's explanation of everything she was doing. It kept her grounded in the present and reminded her that she was truly there, that she was not alone. Rachel's singing helped somewhat, but because it wasn't directed at Santana specifically, not quite as much. And Rachel's voice was not Brittany's. It shouldn't matter anymore, but it did.
Santana waited, still shivering occasionally despite the room's warmth, wrapping the towel tightly around herself until Brittany returned. She recognized the clothes as some of her favorite slouch around the loft ones and her lips twitched into a soft if brief smile. Rachel really knew her well by now, it was exactly what she would have chosen to wear.
She dressed and then, avoiding the mirror, started to work on her hair. It was silly, but she didn't want Brittany to look at her yet until it was at least slightly presentable. She pulled it back in a still damp ponytail and then told her she could open her eyes.
"Dressed. I don't know yet about school. I only have one class in the evening, so I guess I should, but I haven't done the reading yet. Besides, you're here."
She paused, questions only then beginning to occur to her. "How long are you here for? You must have taken a red eye, you must be exhausted. Where even were you?"
Brittany hummed a little as she sat with her eyes closed, smiling at her when she said she could open them. Listening to her explanation about school, Brittany nodded her head, wondering if Santana was even more scared about going to class in the dark, especially now that it was transitioning into longer, darker nights. Besides, you're here. The words caught her off guard, and she couldn't fight the blush that crept across the bridge of her nose. The way Santana said that made her feel important. "Well, maybe you can decide how you feel later," She said simply, "I could walk you there and pick you up." Brittany offered instantly, willing to go to the ends of the earth to make Santana feel safe and comfortable.
However, when Santana spoke again, Brittany stalled, her grin falling. Her first instinct was to be honest with Santana, as she always had, but there was something that made her hesitate. Based on what Santana had said earlier that morning, she wasn't sure how she would react to Brittany admitting that she'd left a tour without warning and flown halfway across the world after a single phone call. She fumbled for half a second, wondering how she could glaze over it. Suddenly, the bathroom felt unbearably warm.
She couldn't. There was no glazing over it. There was no way to sugarcoat it. She couldn't make something up about how long she'd be here because she had no idea. Standing, she chewed on her lip. "Can we not have this conversation in the bathroom?" She asked, pushing the door open, knowing Santana would follow her. She dropped into a chair at the table, where she'd sat just hours earlier, glancing at Rachel who was gathering her bag, throwing her a friendly wave as Santana took the seat across from her.
Brittany immediately wished she was holding Santana again, reaching for her hand, her own hand palm up on the table for her to take. "I…I don't know how long I'm here for." She confessed. Although Santana looked tired and sad, her eyes were bright and alert, trained on Brittany's face, studying her closely. "I was in Munich when Kurt called. He called when you were having a nightmare." She said, not sure if Santana knew that detail. "I did take a red eye the next night, so last night, technically, and then landed in JFK this morning, and came straight here." Brittany chewed her lip, aware that Santana's gaze never once flickered away from her face. "I booked a hotel down the block when I booked my flight." She said, swallowing hard. "And I told my manager it was a family emergency and I didn't know if I was coming back." Brittany confessed, her voice pitching up like she was asking a question, like she wasn't sure of her own words.
Of course Santana was scared about walking on campus at night. She had made it a habit to go with Kurt or Rachel when possible, and if not, to have 911 on speed dial and posed to dial out if she could psyche herself up to go. Sometimes she just skipped.
Santana eyed Brittany sharply, noting the change in her demeanor at her question. Her brow furrowed as she followed her to the table and sat across from her, already sensing she wasn't about to like what she would hear. Rachel, not oblivious to what was about to happen, was suddenly making a big production about getting her bag and babbling very suspicously.
"Oh goodness, look at the time! I must be going now, and I will now do so. It was very good to see you, Brittany! Santana, text if you need me."
And then she was out. Santana let Brittany take her hand, giving the woman her full attention as Brittany explained the details of her arrival. She was still frowning, but remaining calm.
Until the last sentence. She skipped right past the "family emergency" line and snatched her hand away, her back stiffening ramrod straight with her near whiplash reaction. She shook her head immediately and vehemently.
"Oh no, no you did not. You did not, because that would be a lie, and you do not lie to Queen Beyonce and her people. What the hell do you mean, you don't know if you're going back? Of course you're going back! There is no question of if, it's happening, and soon. It should be today! You are going back, you are not even going to think about blowing your dream, your whole career and your reputation for this- this bullshit."
And then she tilted her head as she mentally replayed Brittany's tone and expression. She hadn't missed the way her voice rose up, uncertain, at the end of her words.
"Wait, is that even true? You're leaving something out," she accused, her dark eyes boring into Brittany's hard. "There's something you're not saying. Spit it out so I can correct you on it, because if it has anything to do with hanging around here for my sorry ass, it's wrong. You are going back!"
She had lapsed into a mix of some Spanish and some English by the end of her declaration, something she only did when getting very frustrated. Brittany watched Rachel leave, unable to ignore the flutter of nerves as she realized this would be the first time she was alone with Santana. As well as their morning had gone, Brittany couldn't help that she felt nervous. What if Santana got upset and didn't want her? What if she didn't know what to do? It was silly, Brittany knew, and as happy as she was to have more time alone with Santana, she almost wished Rachel had hung around a bit.
Trying to swallow any apprehension she had, she turned back to Santana, feeling her dark eyes on her the entire time she'd looked away at Rachel. Almost immediately after the words left her mouth, Brittany watched the affect they had on Santana, flinching as she pulled her hand away from hers. Brittany pulled her now-empty hand into her lap, watching Santana shake her head vehemently as she rambled, refusing to believe what Brittany said was true. Her words stung - it's happening, and soon. It should be today. You are going back. Brittany knew she wasn't saying that to hurt her, more so the fact that she had decided that couldn't be the truth.
If it were even possible, Santana's gaze intensified, and Brittany felt herself shrink under her stare. For someone who seemed so small and meek in Brittany's lap earlier, the person across from her seemed larger than life and incredibly, incredibly angry. It always caught her off guard when Santana was angry at her, mostly because it happened so rarely Brittany could count the occasions with one hand. Even still, Brittany couldn't lie to her. She had no lie to make up, no information that she could even provide. It had happened so fast. She'd immediately called her manager after the phone call with Kurt, booked her flight, booked her hotel. It was a blur. Brittany had never been thinking about returning to the tour or her career. All she'd ever been thinking was Santana, Santana, Santana.
Her chest was heaving, her heart thumping in that nervous-sick way it had when Kurt had confessed what had happened. Pressing her lips together, she waited until Santana's slew of Spanish and English had ceased before speaking. "I'm not leaving anything out," She said, her voice surprisingly determined for how close to tears she felt at the moment. "I told them I didn't know when I'd be coming back. If I'd be coming back." Brittany said in blatant honest. "There's one more show in Europe and then it's going to Asia and I- I dont think, I mean, I don't plan on going back." She said, bringing her eyes up to meet Santana's. "I wasn't really thinking about it at the time," She confessed honestly, feeling like she needed to fill the silence, "I booked a hotel and a one way flight and called my manager right after I got off the phone with Kurt. All I could really think about was you."
Santana could tell from the pinched look of Brittany's face that she was hurt, but it didn't stop her or slow her down, although she did feel a faint twinge of regret for bringing that bruised look to her eyes. She was attempting to calm herself down, or at least attempt to, when Brittany opened her mouth and had to shoot that intention all to hell.
She didn't know why she was so surprised by this. It was so like Brittany to do something rash and impulsive without thinking about the consequences, without any thought beyond what she wanted to do in that moment and where her feelings rather than her head was leading her. But she was surprised. Surprised, and increasingly furious the more she listened to her.
All I could really think about was you, Brittany had said. But she wasn't supposed to think like that about Santana anymore, not after everything that had happened between them and all the time that had passed. It didn't matter that Santana still thought about and aches for her, or even that she had felt so much better, however briefly, when she saw Brittany in her apartment. What mattered was that Santana and Brittany did not have a life together anymore. Brittany had made a life apart from her, a better life than anything Santana seemed capable of or deserving of, and to hear her say she hadn't even thought about the consequences of ditching it, that she just left on a whim, set Santana's blood boiling. Her cheeks burning, she shook her head, incredulous, and uttered a laugh that held no humor.
"You didn't think? You didn't think about whether they would even want you back, with God knows how many desperate dancers waiting for the chance, jumping at the opportunity to take your spot? You didn't think about being in breach of contract and getting sued by a billionaire? You didn't think about the fact that you will never have another chance like that again if they blacklist your name? You didn't think about the fact you dedicated years to this, and then left without permission for what, an ex who didn't even ask for you? The same ex you left in the first place SO YOU COULD DO THIS JOB?!"
Santana's voice is growing louder and more agitated, and she stands up abruptly, her hands pressed down hard against the table top so every muscle and tendon of her arms strain. She isn't finished yet. She can't seem to stop the torrent of words spewing out now.
"You don't get to do this, Brittany! You are going back and kissing their ass until you set things right with whoever you have to, because I refuse to let you waste yourself staying here. You do NOT get to do that. You do not get to throw away the life you wanted so badly. Very damn badly, because don't you remember, Brittany, you threw me away to have this life!"
Her chest is heaving now, her body trembling not with anxiety or fear as before, but barely held back fury. And the words keep coming.
"You don't get to throw me away for your new better life, then throw the life you chose over me just because you feel fucking sorry for me. You made your choice, Brittany, and you didn't choose me. And that's fine, that's whatever, i accept that, but I do not accept you doing this. You don't get to undo your choice or play take backs, just because someone else decided they wanted to fuck me in your absence."
As soon as the vicious words left her mouth, Santana wanted to suck them back. She didn't mean them, not entirely, not the last part. She knew it wasn't fair, not that last part, and she knew it would hurt Brittany, because she herself hurt from saying it. This was the first time since leaving the hospital that Santana had even alluded to being raped aloud, and she had never said it in such an ugly way.
Her breathing grew even more shallow, and her mouth tasted suddenly sour, her stomach bunching with nausea as though even saying the word fucked, saying what had happened to her, left a stain on her tongue. And then she could smell his alcohol breath all over again, could feel his fingers on her throat, moving lower, and Santana spun on her heels and ran to the bathroom, dropping to her knees before the toilet and retching. She had eaten so little recently that she spat out mostly bile. Eyes hot with held back tears, she remained hunched over on the floor, struggling to breathe, struggling to stop herself from just beginning to scream or dig her nails into her own skin in effort to stop just some of what she was feeling. If she did either, she wasn't sure she would know how to stop again.
Although she expected it, Brittany still flinched when Santana's voice pierced the air, biting and accusatory, repeating what she said, throwing question after question at her. Most of the questions Brittany hadn't actually thought about, but she knew the answer to some of them. She technically had permission from her manager under the guise of an extreme family emergency- which is exactly why that was the excuse Brittany had used. Sh knew that she may not get invited on the next Beyoncé tour or even anyone after, but if she left for a family emergency, those in the industry were usually civil enough to keep her name clean as long as she wasn't a repeat offender.
Santana leapt up, surprisingly quick and steady on her feet, continuing her yelling. The more Santana yelled at her for leaving tour, the more frustrated Brittany got. What was she supposed to do, thank Kurt for the information but tell him sorry, no, she had a show that night? From the moment Kurt held out the phone for her to hear Santana cry and confessed that they needed her, her mind had been made up. She hated that she was sitting there in front of Santana being made to feel like she'd chosen wrong, opening her mouth to explain.
The second she tried to cut in and explain herself about leaving tour, Santana veered left, her argument cutting home in an entirely different way, stunning Brittany back into silence as she watched Santana shake with rage. You don't get to throw me away for your new better life. You didn't choose me. Brittany felt like Santana had punched her in the stomach, the air leaving her body in a whoosh- what was Santana talking about. Her new, better life? Throwing her away? Brittany felt her blood boil. How could Santana think those things when Brittany had broken her own heart in making the ultimate sacrifice, letting her go so that Santana could have the better life. "What are you talking about?" Brittany asked, her voice nearly as loud as Santana's, although she stayed seated.
They were both talking at each other now, their voices clashing in the air, a harsh juxtaposition to how their voices had once blended together perfectly as they sang. Brittany didn't even care that Santana was still speaking, she couldn't stay silent any longer. "I didn't throw you away! The tour was ruining your life, Santana, you hated it and I could never make you live like that forever. I did it for YOU. I wanted you to have a better life and you to have a wife who could be there and love you the way you de-" You don't get to undo your choice or play take backs, just because someone else decided they wanted to fuck me in your absence.
Fuck me in your absence. The words slammed against Brittany's eardrums, her own voice dying on her lips, the word deserve never finishing. Brittany gasped sharply as Santana's statement hung between them, her hand flying up to clasp over her mouth in shock, so fast that it made a sound. Her eyes were wide, locked with Santana's whose were equally terrified, both of them stunned at what had just come out of her mouth, how crude and gruesome and true she had just been. Brittany knew, hearing from both Rachel and Kurt that after the incident Santana never spoke about it. She refused to bring it up or go into detail, never referencing it at all. Brittany had just been told that this morning, so to hear those words, angry and loud and thrown at her, her blood turned to ice.
She stayed silent, frozen in her seat, waiting to see what Santana would do, not even breathing for fear it would shatter the ice upon which they stood. And then, Santana's whole body jerked and she ran, past Brittany and straight into the bathroom where Brittany could hear the unmistakable sounds of her getting sick. "Oh my God," Brittany breathed, to no one in particular. Her eyes had filled with tears at some point in the painful moments of silence, and Brittany hastily brushed them away willing herself not to cry, stifling a single sob under her palm. Her chest was heaving, desperately sucking in air to level her spinning mind. Everything Santana had said, all of it was wrong. Her words had left Brittany reeling, and she sat for a moment, unsure of what to do. Would Santana kick her out? She seemed close to it a few seconds ago but now, she had no idea.
On wobbly legs, Brittany once again forced her mind to quiet and listen to her body. She filled a cup with water from the tap, her heart hammering in her chest, her hand shaking to the point where water nearly sloshed out the side of her glass as she stepped into the bathroom hesitantly. She waited for Santana to immediately tell her to get the fuck out or something related to that but Santana didn't, still kneeling, still struggling to drag in ragged breaths. Slowly, Brittany lowered herself to the ground beside her, her free hand coming up to flush the toilet, setting the glass of water on the ground beside her. She was furious. She was furious and she was shocked and she was desperate and she was devastated and she was so, so lost. Silently, she brought her hand up, resting one hand between Santana's shoulder blades as she hunched there, small and crouched and broken.