You knew it was coming.
You've spent months mentally preparing yourself for the time to come.
But the time finally comes and the pain is nothing like you expected it to be.
It's so much worse.
And all you can do is sob, the photo now blurry as the tears run down your cheeks.
You had been dreading this moment ever since you had seen the announcement all those months ago. In fact when you first heard the news you had cried for three days straight and had refused to leave your apartment for even longer. It wasn't until your boss threatened to fire you for taking too many sick days without a doctor's note when you decided it was finally time to pull yourself together because no matter where you were you were gonna be sad, so you figured if you're gonna be sad you may as well get paid for it. You still have bills to pay after all and getting kicked out of your apartment and becoming homeless would just be the icing on the fucking cake.
So, you worked a fuck load of more than usual, trying to get your mind off it and for a few weeks it had worked. Until the next post, and then the one after that. You started to drink a lot too and you had got yourself into a situation that when you weren't working, you were drinking, doing anything you could to just forget. But you never do. Especially not when there's a new photo or update about the situation online every week.
But it's different this time.
And it feels like your heart has just been ripped out of your chest and there's no way a photo could hurt this fucking much.
Except it's not just any photo.
It's a photo of Brittany.
Your Brittany, with a crying newborn laying on her chest.
And although you can barely see through the tears you still manage to make out the caption.
And it just makes your heart break even more.
"Charlotte Susan."
March 2012
"You are such a fucking asshole!" You huff, swatting at the large cat who is currently trying to eat your shoes.
"Santana!" Brittany scolds from her space on the bed, "You cannot call him an asshole!"
"Well he should stop being an asshole." You shrug, shoving the thing out of the bedroom, before shutting the door and making your way back over to your girlfriend.
"Would you call our child an asshole?" Brittany questions, abandoning the magazine she was reading to grab your hands, pulling you on top of her.
You raise your eyebrow at the blonde who just grins at you in return. You've never thought about having kids before, but then again you are only seventeen and haven't even thought about what you've going to do once you finish high school, but then you look into blue eyes and suddenly all you can think about is what your life could be like in ten years time and you get butterflies at the thought.
You and Brittany will obviously always be together except she'll probably be your wife by that point. You could also be a mom, like an actual mom with an actual son or daughter instead of just being a stepmom to your girlfriend's overweight cock-blocking cat.
(Brittany insists on calling you his stepmom even though you keep telling her how much you hate it.)
(You think that's why she enjoys calling you that so much.)
"As long as they don't eat my shoes I won't." You breathe a laugh, moving to rest your head on her chest, smiling when you feel her heart race when you lay your hand on it.
"And what are we going to call our hypothetical, non-shoe eating children?" Brittany asks you, her hand now rubbing up your back.
"Not Lord Tubbington Jr."
"Damn."
"I don't know, I've never actually thought about having kids before." You admit to her and it makes you think if it's something that she often thinks about. Kids have always freaked you out and you've never really been around any but now that you have an image of a mini Brittany in your mind all you can think about is that you can't wait to have one in the future. "I always thought Max was a cool name."
"I like that." You hear her whisper against your hairline. You wonder if she's picturing the same thing as you.
"And what about for a girl?"
"I like Charlie, short for Charlotte."
"Charlie as in Charlie Brown?
"Exactly like Charlie Brown." You feel her nod and your heart all but explodes at the thought
"And obviously she has to have Susan as a middle name." You say, squeezing her tighter, closing your eyes when she kisses your forehead.
September 2011
"You are so sexy." Brittany moans, her lips attaching to your neck as her hand makes its way under your shirt. You let out a gasp and pull on her hair, turning her head to kiss you again.
"Where you going?" You whimper when she sits up removing her lips and hand, "Come back."
She just laughs at you, shaking her head as she removes your shirt and then her own. "So impatient." She giggles, moving to lay over you once more, bringing your lips together once more, her tongue instantly brushing against yours.
"I love you." She whispers, reaching for your hand.
"I love you too."
You lay in bed, her body pressed against yours, listening to her breathe, feeling the rise of her chest against your back when you're interrupted.
"Brittany what have I told you about having her over?"
You sit up, rubbing your eyes as you take a glance at the girl next to you who looks just as scared, if not more, as you.
The blonde pulls the sheet up higher against your bodies, ducking her head as she whispers, "Sorry."
"I'm going now anyway, Mrs Pierce." You tell the older woman who just throws you a glare.
"Little too late now though, isn't it?" Mrs Pierce snaps, making you jump, "You're in my house, you go by my rules. You should know this by now, Brittany."
You look at the blonde beside you, she's playing with a loose piece of string on her comforter. You don't think she's looked up since her mom came in but you can tell by the way her jaws clenching that she's trying not to cry. She's never been okay with being told off
"I don't want this shit in my house." She scoffs and your nostrils flare as Brittany nods, she's crying now but Mrs Pierce doesn't care she just looks at you, "You're not welcome here."
It's dark by the time you finally stop crying, your cheeks now stinging as you stare at your bedroom wall, black sheets pulled up to your chin.
The photo of your ex-girlfriend and her newborn daughter doesn't leave your mind and you really wish you never found out about the pregnancy. You should have kept your promise to yourself and stayed away from anything to do with the blonde but curiosity had gotten the best of you.
You had followed Brittany on the app ever since she made the account back in high school, you were even her first follower and even after the break up, you never unfollowed her, choosing to delete the app instead, only to redownload it a year later, deleting the hundreds of messages from Brittany and a few friends that tried to contact you.
She never unfollowed you either, still occasionally liking posts from your nights out or of your dog, Jax.
(You rescued him not long after the break-up).
But unlike your ex, you had decided to not interact with any of her posts. At first it was because you thought it would be too weird after how long it had been since you had last seen each other and that she would probably be pissed off at you if you had disappeared from everyone's lives to then just randomly like a photo of her fatass cat and if it's one thing you hate doing, it's pissing Brittany off. Even if you're not actually there to see it.
There was also the possibility that something as basic as a comment of an emoji could lead to something more, maybe it would have led to a conversation and then eventually a rekindling of a friendship. Which would then lead to another heartache and that was something you didn't want to have to live through again.
Except it happened anyway, because once you had finally healed enough to like one of her posts, after she liked one of yours first, a whole year and a half after the break up, your heart was broken again.
Brittany had a boyfriend.
Who is now also her baby daddy.
You remember the first time she posted about the pregnancy, you couldn't stop looking at the post, re-reading the caption a million times, not believing what was happening. You did that with all her other posts too, ones where she would show off her bump and when she announced it was a girl.
You didn't like any of the photos.
Not even the one from today.
Although you did scroll through the comments, reading an endless amount of congrats! and aww she's beautiful. You recognised a few of the names, Quinn, Tina, Mike, Mercedes, hell even Artie.
You haven't spoken to any of them since the break up and you wonder if Brittany is still as close to them now as she was back then.
But then you noticed a comment from the person you hated the most.
(He's probably a good guy but you are way too petty to care).
It was a comment that made you feel like your heart had been ripped out of your chest once again except this time it had also been put into a blender and then thrown off a bridge. And you had only been able to read the words my girls before you had thrown your phone across the room.
You've known for a while that she's moved on from you. You had accepted that she started a new life but not once did you think it would get to this point, you never thought that she would start a family, not without you.
You breathe a bitter laugh and pull your sheet over your head as you wonder what everyone else thinks. You just know that her mom would be over the fucking moon.
Her mom had never liked you, even when you were just friends, not that you and Brittany were ever just friends.But anyways she had always said you were a bad influence on her baby girl and sure to some extent that may have been true but it had worked both ways. As it turned out the dancer had been just as much of a bad influence on you that you were to her.
Not that anyone ever believed that.
But after all she's the reason why you got her fucking first initial tattooed way to close to your lady business and to why she also has yours in the same place. All because innocent little Brittany wanted the two of you to get matching tattoos on her eighteenth birthday. So you got a tattoo, despite being fucking terrified of needles and also underage, lucky for Brittany that you had a fake ID, but you had loved it. At least you did until you had broken up and had to see the painful reminder every time you changed your damn underwear or went to the bathroom but it also gives you some sort of twisted pleasure knowing that Brittany has the same reminder.
You wonder how she explained that one to her baby daddy.
Anyways, Mrs Pierce's hatred for you had become more apparent after Brittany had come out to her and confessed about her relationship with you. Apparently she could, barely, live with her daughter being best friends with you, but having her daughter being bisexual and in a relationship with you was a big no-no for Mrs Pierce.
The weekly sleepovers had stopped, much to both yours and Brittany's disapproval and the only time you were ever allowed in the Pierce household was when Brittany's parents or her ass of a brother were home, even then you weren't allowed in any room that had a door. So you ended up spending most of your time at your place, Brittany telling her mom that she had extra dance classes or that she was always staying over at Tina's or another one of the cheerio's since your house was off limits, along with Quinn's after the whole pregnancy thing. It was hard to keep up with all the lies, but you made it work and as you laid beside her planning your future you knew it would all be worth it.
You had planned to move to New York together. Neither of you had any idea what you were going to be doing when you got there or how you would even make it work but it didn't matter because all either of you cared about was that you would be together, chasing your dreams. All Brittany wanted to do was dance and there would be a billion opportunities for her to do that there, and after watching her dance over the years you know that she would probably be hired on the spot as a dancer for some huge production that would set her up for life.
Your dreams however, were a little different. You knew you wanted to be rich and famous, you just didn't know how you were going to do it. But how hard could it actually be?
(Spoiler: Really fucking hard).
But your plans of living the New York dream with the love of your life were over before they could even start, because Brittany wasn't graduating.
October 2012
"I miss you."
"I miss you too." You sigh, your phone squished between your shoulder and ear as you bend down to tie your laces, "I really gotta go, babe, I'm gonna be late for practice."
"Okay." She whispers and you can hear the sadness in her voice, in fact you hear it every time you call her.
"I'll call you tomorrow, promise." You tell her, rushing out of your dorm, "Love you." You hang up before she even gets the chance to say it back.
You don't call her the next day.
Or the day after that.
You can't handle hearing the pain in her voice when you call or the way that she looks like she hasn't slept for days on the rare occasion that you video call.
It's in Breadstix when you realize just how bad things have gotten.
"You left me behind and it hurt."
That's when you know you have to change things.
So you do.
You sing her a song in the choir room, a song about how you're gonna make it because although it's tough right now you know that it'll be a thousand times harder without her. You promise her that things will get better, that the distance isn't going to last forever and it's only a matter of time before you're back together again except this time you'll be living together, waking up to one another every morning and going to sleep in each other's arms.
You leave the next morning, kissing your girlfriend on the forehead as she sleeps comfortably in your bed, somewhere she's apparently slept a lot since you left.
You both make more of an effort in your relationship in the next few months, you text constantly, talk on the phone every night and even visit each other once every two weeks.
You dropped out of college two weeks before Christmas, much to your mother's disapproval, it had been something that you had been thinking about for a while and Brittany was one hundred percent supportive with your decision if it meant that you would be happy and you were, so you moved to New York like you had originally planned, reassuring your girlfriend that you were just getting a head start on building your future together and that you were still okay with waiting for her.
And you do.
At least you do then.
"Lopez!" You hear your boss shout at you from across the diner. "Table 6 are still waiting for their drinks!"
Okay, so life had definitely not worked out the way you had wanted it too, in more ways than one because on top of being single and alone and living a life without Brittany, you also aren't famous and you most definitely are not rich.
Instead you're a fucking waitress, working in a shitty diner for shitty minimum wage with shitty customers who give shitty tips.
Living as a waitress in Chicago had never been a part of your plan, but you had left New York before you even had the chance to change your relationship status to single. Your original plan had been to go to Los Angeles, maybe give the whole becoming famous thing one more try, after all Mercedes was there and she had done pretty well for herself and maybe you could have persuaded her to let you be an opening act on her tour.
But like everything else in your life, that hadn't gone as planned.
The break up was fresh, as in not even two days fresh and you knew that you wouldn't be able to deal with all the questions, you weren't even prepared to tell anyone and you just needed some time to yourself before you could officially start over.
So you took a trip to Chicago and you've been here ever since.
For the first week and a half you were too depressed to leave your motel room, choosing to drink your feelings away with the alcohol you found had been left in the small fridge in the room before sobbing into your pillow for hours on end. But then when you finally chose to go into the city, you needed food and your collection of miniature liquor bottles were running low, you had decided to give the place a chance.
It had given you the opportunity to start over, no one knew anything about you, no one could ask questions and there was absolutely no chance of seeing or hearing about the blonde that had broken your heart.
"I know, I'm coming!" You shout, grabbing a cup from the shelf, filling it with soda. "Table 24 are also waiting for their check."
"Well then give them the check." Your boss grunts, his arms folded against his sweaty chest.
"Do you want me to give them the check or serve these drinks?" You snap back, slamming the cup down on the counter, soda splashing your hands.
"I want you to do your fucking job."
"Well maybe if I actually had help I might be able to do my job instead of doing everyone else's fucking job as well as my own since we're understaffed every fucking day and you don't help become you're too busy jacking yourself off in the back."
"I-I d-don't do that." He stutters, his face turning red as you raise your brow at him, "Just give me the fucking check, Lopez."
"That's what I thought." You smirk, handing him the check.
You had never expected to be a waitress for this long, it was supposed to be a temporary thing until you found a more permanent job that didn't make you live paycheck to paycheck and have you rely on tips. It's what you had done when you were in New York and you hated that it was something you're still doing years later. Except then you always just said it was just something to do until you got your moment.
But you never got it.
Brittany had always been the person that had made you believe that all your dreams would come true, she would tell you that you just needed to be patient and that your time was coming. But as it turns out all your dreams and the possibilities of them coming true had died when you ended that phone call.
June 2014
"I'm so proud of you, baby." You whisper, pressing your lips against hers.
Brittany had joined you in New York the year before, moving into your tiny apartment, not even a week after she graduated. She had gotten into Juilliard on a scholarship and had gotten a job waitressing on the weekends, while you sang in bars and auditioned for countless of small acting jobs hoping that you would impress someone important who could then get you an actual job that made you a lot of money.
"I couldn't have done it without you." She whispers against your lips, placing her glass of cheap wine on the coffee table before pulling you to straddle her. "Thank you for believing in me."
You were proud of her. So unbelievably fucking proud, yet you couldn't help but feel a tiny bit jealous.
Brittany had made it.
Well, Brittany was on her way to making it.
She had got her first official paid dancing job at the local dance school down the block and sure, it was only teaching snotty six year olds, but it was still something.
Whereas you couldn't even get an interview or a damn business card.
She was already more successful than you and had even done it in a year less.
But nevertheless, you were happy for her.
You lean down, brushing your nose against hers, "You deserve this. You are the best dancer in this damn city and pretty soon everyone is gonna be begging for you to work for them." You kiss her once more quickly before pulling back, smiling when she whines at the loss, "And who knows, maybe one of the brats' parents are some like big theater directors or choreographers."
"It's gonna happen for you too, y'know." She tells you, running her hands down your back, "You moment is coming soon. I can feel it."
"What if it doesn't?"
"And since when does Santana Lopez give up on what she wants?" She rolls her eyes at you, her hands now resting on your hips, "Seriously, baby, I know it's taking longer than what we thought it would but it will happen." She gives you another kiss, making you smile, "You are the most talented, gorgeous person on this entire planet and if anyone deserves to be super famous it's you and you're not gonna give up on your dream because I'm not gonna let you."
Brittany had kept her word, she never did let you give up no matter how much you wanted too. You know she'd be disappointed in you if she saw you now, still stuck in the same place you were all those years ago, except now you weren't singing in bars and you stopped doing auditions. You had accepted your fate of not making it big and you know that the Brittany you used to know would be just as sad as you are about it.
It was a couple weeks after Brittany had started her teaching job when you decided that it was time to get an actual job. Your savings were running low and couldn't rely on just Brittany's wages and the money you got from small bar gigs to pay your rent. Waitressing wasn't exactly your first temporary career choice but Brittany's boss at the diner offered you your girlfriend's old job and you couldn't turn it down, it was pretty basic hours and you already knew most of the staff from all the times you visited your girlfriend. Plus it worked out with your college schedule when you planned to go back to get your degree, something you could use as a backup plan in the future.
It was a start.
A very slow start, but a start nevertheless.
But unlike yours, your girlfriend's career was on the up and she was getting more and more successful as the days went by.
It was a Sunday when she told you, you were exhausted from your busy shift at the diner and you wanted nothing more than to go home and shower before cuddling in bed with your girlfriend. That never happened, instead when you stepped through the door Brittany had jumped up from the couch to hug you, knocking you over until you were pressed into the door. Not that you would usually mind your girlfriend pinning you against a wall but this time it was different. You could see that she had been crying, yet she also wore the brightest smile. She told you her news before you even got the chance to ask.
By the end of the night you both cried tears of joy and your heart burst with pride for the blonde.
You just never knew that it would be the start of the end.
Brittany was going on tour.
November 2017
You had moved out of your shitty open plan apartment not long after Brittany had left for her third tour, moving into a two bedroom apartment that was actually in a semi decent neighborhood that didn't have sirens going off every twenty minutes. Since Brittany was away for pretty much all the moving process you had spent most of your time decorating the new place. You had wanted it to be ready for your girlfriend coming home, you wanted her to feel like she was really home since she had spent most of the past few years on the road. You needed it to be perfect and it was, until you got a phone call telling you that your girlfriend wasnt coming home for another two months.
"You said tonight was your last show." You grumble into the phone.
"I know and it was supposed to be." She tells you and your brow furrows, "But one of the girls had to drop out and there's no one else to replace her."
You roll your eyes, it's not the first time she's had to fill in for someone, "You also don't need to be the person to replace her, Britt. You can say no."
"I need to do this, Santana." She sighs and you throw yourself onto the coach, resting your chin on your knees. "I'm sorry, baby."
"It doesn't matter." You scoff, your throat starting to tighten.
"I promise this is my last one."
"You also promised that you would be home tomorrow." You snap, standing up to place your apartment, "I can't keep doing this, Brittany. I haven't seen you in three months."
"It's just two more months." She cries and you can feel your own eyes well up hearing the break in her voice.
"And what about the next one?" You counter, heading into your bedroom, "How long are you gonna be away for then?"
"There's not gonna be a next one! I'll be home for good."
"There's always a next time, Brittany. They'll ask you to go on another tour and you won't be able to say no and I'll be stuck by myself, again."
"Santana, I'm trying to help build our future-"
"It's a little hard to build out future when you're never even fucking here."
"Santana, please." She begs and you shake your head, "I can come home in a few for a few days and then-"
"Don't bother."
"What?" Brittany whimpers.
"Don't bother coming home."
"Santana I-"
"I'm done, Britt." You sniff, grabbing a suitcase out the closet, "I'm not doing this anymore. It doesn't even feel like we're together anymore."
"Baby don't-"
"It's been like this for too long and I'm tired." You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, "What's the point in being together if we're never actually together?"
"Because we love each other!" Brittany shouts down the phone. "Santana, I love you. I can't-"
"Love isn't always enough, Britt." You interrupt, staring at the empty suitcase in front of you. "I'm sorry."
You had packed all your stuff and left before Brittany got home, ignoring the hundreds of calls and texts she left you before eventually changing your number and deleting all your social media so no one could contact you.
It worked. You haven't spoken to anyone from your old life except for one person.
You had always been close to your mom, bar those awkward teenage years when you were angry and confused and took it out on the world, your mom included, but she always saw right through you and after you finally came out to her the two of you were closer than ever. But you weren't the only person who Maribel Lopez got closer to after coming clean about your relationship. Your mom had also grown closer to Brittany, becoming a second mother to the blonde over the years. It had started when you went away to college, Brittany had continued with the Friday date nights, only with a different Lopez, except rather than Breadstix, your mom would invite her round for dinner and would tutor her in Spanish.
She often asks about the blonde, asking if you had spoken to her or had seen one of her posts. You always said no, not wanting to fall into a conversation about your ex-girlfriend, but you know that your mom knows a lot more about the dancer than you, you know she still talks to her from time to time, not that she would ever tell you that but you could never blame her, sometimes you think your mom took the break up harder than you did. You had never actually told your mom why you two had broken up, you didn't even tell her that you were the one to end it, just that it was over.
It's been a month since the announcement of Brittany's daughter.
Although the thought of her having a family that doesn't involve you still hurts, the pain seems to lessen everytime you see a new photo of the infant.
You've thought a lot about your past in the last month. You thought back to the friendship turned relationship you had with the blonde. You thought back to how it had all started, back to the start of freshman year when you had first met during cheer tryouts and when you would kiss at parties and would tell yourself you were just doing it to impress boys and then would later kiss in private just because you wanted too. You had thought back to your first time during cheer camp the summer before sophomore year and how after that you could never go too long without being with her.
You remembered the secret touches and looks which were apparently way less subtle than you initially hoped, well according to Quinn anyway who apparently knew the entire time, which you had called bullshit because she definitely would have had something to say, or slap. If she had found out what you and Brittany actually did during the unholy trinity sleepovers just meters from where she slept.
Then you remembered when you officially became a couple and you always thought that would be it, that you would move away, start your careers and that when you earned enough money, you would buy a ring and ask her to marry you, maybe even have a kid or two.
You should've waited.
You should've given her the opportunity to come back instead of hanging up on her and leaving.
You knew she would've come home and then you wouldn't be feeling so empty right now
You could've been married by now, she could've been posting a baby that she had with you instead.
But you didn't wait and now you're alone in a city where no one truly knows you. You have a job that you hate and an apartment that will never feel like home.
You had your chance to change things. There was still time to go back, your mother had told you that Brittany wanted to fight for you but you were too damn stubborn and told your mom to tell Brittany that you were fine and that you just needed some time to yourself, as if having too much time by yourself wasn't the reason you left in the first place.
You know it's too late now, but it still doesn't stop you from wondering what would happen if you called her because Brittany may not know your number anymore but you still know hers.
There's a thousand possibilities that could happen if you dialed the number. Would she forgive you for walking out on everything the two of you had built together? Would she let you back into her life? Could you start fresh and be friends again? Could you be as close as you once were? Maybe you could just pick up where you left off, except this time with the baby.
You roll your eyes at the thought, you know you're not delusional enough to think that could ever happen.
After everything you think the most likely option would be her telling you to fuck off and that she never wants to speak to you again because why would she want you back in her life? She's obviously happy enough without you, she has a daughter and a boyfriend, who she clearly loves, she doesn't need to call her and potentially ruin what she has.
But you're curious.
You just want to know what would happen if she picks up the phone even if it means hurting all over again.
You just want to hear her voice even if it is just to tell you not to call her again.
And you've never been one to back down on something once you've got your mind set.
So you call her.
September 2015
"I love you." She whispers against your lips, kissing you softly.
"I love you more." You smile, giggling as she shakes her head.
"Not possible." She kisses you again, her hand stroking your cheek and you could go back and forth for hours with that argument, not that either of you would actually mind since she gives you a kiss everytime you open your mouth and after not being able to kiss her for so long you don't ever want her to stop.
Brittany had only just returned from her first ever tour as a backup dancer for some cheesy pop artist, you had to watch all the videos of your girlfriend dancing in the background on mute for the sake of your eardrums, and had spent the last two months going around the country, performing every night and so there wasnt alot of time for the two of you to actually talk, sure you texted and called whenever you got the chance and it was hard, for both of you but you just told yourself it was only temporary and Brittany got to live her dream. Plus if you'd had known how good the sex would be after not being able to touch for so long you probably would have sent Brittany on tour a long time ago.
Okay, that's bullshit, not having her near you nearly killed you was totally not worth the mind blowing sex you had just had.
Well, maybe a little worth it.
But only because Brittany being gone meant that she was living her dream and that's all you've ever wanted for her.
The awesome reunion sex was just a bonus.
"So, Miss World Famous Back-up Dancer," You tease, laughing as she pouts when you pull away from the kiss, "How long do I have you for? Or are you back for good?"
Brittany leans forward, pecking you once more before rolling onto her back, pulling you to rest your head against her shoulder, "I guess I'm home until someone wants me."
"I want you." You breathe, your hand reaching for her jaw, pulling her down for another kiss. Just because you finally can. She moans as you deepen the kiss, your tongue stroking hers before pulling apart slightly as she lets go of the grip she has on your hair and grabs the back of your thigh, pulling you to straddle her, your knees pressing into the mattress by her hips, her hands moving up and down your bare back, pressing your body into hers. Her hands finally reach your ass when there's a knock at the door.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"Pizza's here." Brittany giggles, squeezing your ass once more, which makes you groan, before carefully shoving you off of her and stands up.
You lay back, your arms folded, against your pillows, watching as the dancer glides around your shared bedroom, pulling her shorts up before reaching out for the hoodie that had been tossed across the room the second Brittany had pushed you through the door.
"That's mine!" You whine, now noticing how chilly it is without your personal blue-eyed heater laying next to you, or on top of you.
Brittany giggles, shaking her head at you before throwing your old Cheerios hoodie over her head, "Would you rather me give the pizza guy a free show?"
"No." You pout, your arms still crossed against your naked chest when Brittany makes her way over to the bed, giving you one last kiss before leaving to answer the door.
You expect the call to be cut off, you expect it to be a number that's no longer in use or at the very least, you expect anyone other than the person you're calling to answer.
But the number isn't cut off and it doesn't go to voicemail and Brittany hasn't changed her number and your heart races and your throat tightens when you hear her voice for the first time in three years.
"Hello." You hear her say and you feel numb. You can't speak. You just cry. "Hello? Who is this?"
She hangs up and all you can do is throw your phone across the room.
It takes you a while to actually be able to look at one of her posts again after the phone call, not that you could really call it a phone call, but you were cautious to scroll through your feed, locking your phone whenever you spotted her username. You even went as far as deleting the app again but that only lasted about an hour before you got bored and redownloaded it which is probably a little dramatic but hearing her voice a little over a month ago had affected you a whole lot more than what you thought it would.
Not that you had actually planned on what you were going to say when she answered.
Anyways, avoiding Brittanys account works and you finally start to feel like normal again, well as normal as Chicago-Santana is. That is until you see another post that makes you, yet again, question your entire life and this time it's not something that's been posted from Brittany.
It's from Quinn.
Of course it involves Brittany otherwise it wouldn't make you feel like you've been slammed into a brick wall.
It's a selfie of the two, well three of them including the littlest blonde who is being held by Auntie Quinn, as Quinn calls herself in the caption, the baby staring at something that is obviously way more interesting than the camera.
You never knew they had kept in touch after you left since they had never really been that close in the first place, they had only really been friends because of you and yet somehow they seem closer without you and have even created a new little trio, one without you.
It's not the selfie of the two people you spent most of your teenage years with, one more than the other, or Quinn self proclaiming to the kids auntie that messes with your head.
It's Brittany.
(No fucking shit.)
Because not only is it a selfie of your ex with her daughter and Quinn.
It's a selfie with Brittany wearing a red hoodie that you know all too well.
Because it's yours.
It's the same damn Cheerios hoodie that you had been given at the start of senior year that you never actually got to wear before Brittany stole it off you despite having her own, which she eventually gave to you after wearing it for a couple days so that it would smell like her and that way wearing each other's hoodies would make it feel like you would always be with each other.
You take a harder look at the photo, or rather the outfit of the taller blonde. It's a little worn by now which isn't really surprising considering she wore it pretty much everyday when you were still together but it looks way worse than you remember it.
Did she still wear it everyday? Or did she just put it on for the little reunion with the other ex-cheerleader? Does she wear her boyfriend's hoodies as much as she wears yours?
You roll your eyes at yourself. When you woke up this morning you definitely did not expect to be mind fucked by a piece of clothing that you got when you were seventeen.
You unlike the post faster than you liked it and pray to God that Quinn doesn't get a notification and if she does then she hopes that she doesn't tell Brittany which just makes your eyes roll once again because of course she's going to tell Brittany and you hate how a certain blue eyed blonde still has so much control over you without even knowing it.
You turn your phone off, deciding you've had enough thinking for one day and throw it across your bed, almost hitting Jax in the process, the Australian Shepard laying unbothered at the foot of your bed.
"Shit, sorry buddy." You gasp, gaining the attention of the dog who tilts his head in response and you just sigh, "What do you think?" You roll your eyes for a third time, "Come here."
Jax moves towards you, his head resting on your stomach, "Am I thinking too much into this?"
You lay there in your bed for what feels like forever, your hand gently resting on his head as he sleeps, breathing a laugh when he lets out a sigh, "That's exactly how I feel."
Does wearing the hoodie still make her feel like you're always with her? Or maybe she just wore it because it was the only thing she had clean, she does have a baby after all.
Maybe it's something that she can't get rid of. Maybe having that one piece of clothing symbolizes your relationship and throwing it out would feel like your relationship is officially over despite it being over for the past three years. Maybe keeping and wearing it gives her hope that one day everything could go back to how it used to be and you can get back together.
After all, that's why you still have hers.
It's busy at work.
Like really fucking busy and you're also really fucking understaffed which just makes it feel even busier than what it actually is.
It's nothing you're not used to considering it happens pretty much every week and despite your shift feeling like it's never ending, it finally does, even after staying back an hour and half after you were supposed to finish to help out.
By the time you leave it's a little after eight thirty and you're finally stepping onto the streets of Chicago to make your journey home.
You only manage walking a few minutes before you get bored and take your phone out, checking it for the first time since you clocked in that morning. Not that you actually expect anything to be on it other than the usual text from your mom, making sure that you're eating well and if you've made any new friends which always makes you laugh because you're not five.
You freeze in your spot when you see what's on the screen, making an old lady bump into you but you really don't have the words to argue back with her. The text from your mom is there, but so is something else.
It's a missed call.
A missed call from the number that you called a month ago.
You don't ring the number back.
At least not when you're in the middle of the streets of Chicago.
You walk faster. Your eyes flicker down at the notification every few seconds, constantly rereading the number to make sure it's definitely who you think it is even though you knew it was the second you saw it since the number had been burned into your memory ever since she first gave you it back in high school.
But what if it isn't her? Obviously it's her number, there's no way she would change the number she's had since she was thirteen in less than a month just because you called her. But what if it's her boyfriend? Perhaps he saw the call and decided that he was going to call you back without Brittany knowing to tell you to leave his family alone.
Or maybe she just called you by accident? It certainly wouldn't be the first time.
You really fucking hate your mind and it's constant need to overthink.
Should you call her back? You scoff, of course you should call her back, she obviously called you for a reason.
What if she doesn't even know it was you calling her? After all you don't have the same number but she could have confirmed it with your mom? Or maybe your mom gave her your number a long time ago and she was just waiting for you to make the first move.
You hear Jax barking before you even get the chance to put your key in the lock, "God no wonder the neighbors hate me." You mutter to yourself, pushing the door open, revealing the shepherd who you stroke as he jumps up at you, his tail wagging.
"Hi, buddy." You exhale, your breathing uneven from the journey home, you gently shove him off you before throwing yourself onto the catch, Jax following you, "I'll take you out soon, okay?"
You take another look at your phone, your thumb hovering over the number before you decide to just bite the bullet and call her back.
Hey, this is Brittany, please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeep.
"Fuck." You grunt, throwing your phone onto the coffee table in front of you, making the dog on your lap jump, "Sorry." You apologize, scratching behind his ear, "What should I do?"
Do you call her back later?
Or do you just wait until she calls you back?
If she calls you back.
August 2012
"I'm really gonna miss you."
"Then don't go!" Brittany muffles against your chest, rolling you over to lay on top of you, her head buried in your neck.
"Hey! You're the one that got me the scholarship in the first place." You laugh, running your fingers through blonde hair, scratching at her scalp.
"You should just stay and do senior year all over again with me." She mumbles, her head now resting against your chest.
"Baby, I love you." You smile, leaning down to kiss her head, "But there is no way I am gonna voluntarily do another year at that shit show of a school."
"Yeah, I don't blame you." Brittany mutters, now playing with your fingers, "It's just gonna suck without you." You really don't want to leave her. You hate the idea of her going through another year of that hell, especially without you there to take care of her. "Not only am I not gonna have my girlfriend but I'm also not gonna have my best friend."
"I know it sucks." You tell her, kissing her once more, "But you know that I'll still be here for you right?" Brittany just nods and you know she's trying not to cry, "I mean it, Britt, just call or text me whenever."
"You remember freshman year?" She asks, her voice cracking slightly as she wipes her eyes.
"I try to block it out." You joke, smiling when you see the dancer's shoulders rise as she giggles.
"You were out sick for a couple days-"
"Ah yes, the first time I got mono." You nod. "Glad I turned immune."
"Me too! I remember calling you and you thought you were dying and your mom was shouting at you to not be so dramatic." Brittany laughs, "But, calling you was pretty much the only good thing that happened that week. It was like everyone took advantage of you not being there to stick up for me."
You remember that. Brittany had been uncharacteristically quiet when you had finally returned. She kept her head down and refused to talk to anyone other than you. It took you a couple of weeks before she finally told you everything that had happened when you had been out, people had teased her and called her names. Someone even locked her in a janitor's closets for the day making her miss cheerios practice and Sue did not go easy on punishments.
After that you had made a promise to yourself that you would never let her be in that situation ever again.
"Babe, look at me." You sit up, Brittany mirroring your position, "That's not gonna happen again but if you ever do need me, I will be on the first train back to kick some ass. Plus, I know they're not as good or as hot as me but you still have your other friends."
"I know. Maybe I could find a new best friend." She teases, her tongue peeking between her teeth, "Like a temporary replacement Santana."
Shaking your head, you wrap your arms around her as she giggles, pulling her down to lay on top of you again, "Don't even fucking think about it."
"Don't worry, baby." She leans down, her nose rubbing against your own, her lips ghosting over yours, "You'll always be my best friend."
She kisses you. Your hand's moving to her hair while she reaches down to your thigh, pulling it up to wrap around her waist. You let out a moan as her tongue strokes against yours, making her giggle as she pulls away.
"Besides," She breathes, her lips moving to your neck, "I don't think anyone else can keep up with me."
As it turns out always doesn't actually mean always. You had learned that the hard way and Brittany's fear came true, at least it did for you anyways because when you left Brittany you didn't just end up losing your girlfriend, you lost your best friend too.
You know you're mostly to blame.
You didn't have to walk away.
You didn't have to change your number or delete all the other ways of contacting you.
You didn't have to make your mom keep your new number and address a secret.
You had known the second that you hung up on your girlfriend that it was too late. You had already made a decision and you couldn't change it.
No matter how much you wanted to.
No matter how much you still want to.
But life is life and life fucking sucks and you're also too damn stubborn to try and make amends.
And not just with a certain blonde leggy dancer, but with everyone else that you left behind.
Maybe you could just show up at the next glee club reunion and pretend nothing happened.
Okay, even you're not that stupid.
Maybe you could drop a DM, or five, and just casually ease your way back into everyone's lives.
Or you could actually answer your phone instead of just watching the number, yes that number, go to voicemail.
She's called you twice since you tried to call her back earlier, both times you had panicked and just stared at the phone until the blonde on the other side hung up. The last call had been an hour ago, exactly four minutes after the one before.
You'll answer the next one.
Maybe.
For now, though, you decide to just lay in bed even though sleep is the last thing on your mind as you listen to Jax snore by your feet and wait for the phone to ring.
It doesn't.
At least not when you're awake.
It's a little after midnight when you wake up.
Groaning, you reach out to the nightstand to grab your phone, the brightness of it making you squint.
mom - 2 missed calls
You flop onto your back, moaning as you do because of course she doesn't answer when you call her back because even though it's late, if your moms calling you at this time then it's obviously for something important. Or because she's drunk but considering it's only Thursday it's probably the former.
You give your phone one last look, noticing that the other number hasn't called you back and your moms probably fell asleep so you close your eyes attempting to fall back to sleep. Your mind doesn't shut off, thinking about all the possibilities that could happen when you wake in the morning. There could be a missed call or even a text from someone who is not Maribel Lopez.
It's something you don't want to think about. You don't think you're ready for another potential change in your life. You also don't want to think what would happen if she doesn't call you again.
Would that officially be the end of it?
You lay staring at the ceiling, focused on the sounds of Jax's snoring when you hear it.
It's quiet and at first you don't move, thinking it's probably the neighbors. But then it happens again, this time louder, the noise waking Jax up in the process and it's not until he starts barking when you realize that it's someone knocking at your door.
"Alright, I'm coming!" You shout, standing up when you hear the knocking again, "Jax, come on." The dog stops barking when you call his name, following you out into the hallway.
You turn on the light in the hallway, rubbing your eyes as the darkness disappears and stare at the door in front of you. You jump when the knocking continues, making the dog that's standing by you bark again.
"Who is it?" You call out, one hand on the handle while the other rests on the dog's head, calming him down as he jumps up at the door and your heart all but stops when you hear the voice on the other side of the door.
"It's Brittany."
inspo - chicago by louis tomlinson