Trouble (Ray LaMontagne)

"Hey, Santana?"

"You must be joking! That's all you have to say to me, Lucy Quinn Fabray? Hey?"

"Fine. How about, what are you doing here, Santana?"

Her tears turned to fury as she stormed over to me.

"You weren't answering your phone calls from anyone, you haven't been online, and when I called your roommate, she told me that she hadn't seen you in days. What do YOU think I'm doing here?" She snapped, her hand raising, caressing my face, and then she dropped it. "I was so worried. I got here as soon as I could."

"Why?"

"We need to talk. Where's your room, or does this cult sleep in one giant bed?"

I don't know what came over me. I had a strict rule about touching people I had feelings for, and mainly, it was that I avoided it at all costs.

Touching leads to kissing, which leads to fucking. Case in point...Noah.

But that didn't stop me from shoving my phone into my pocket and reaching for her hand. There was no spark, just a tingle and a warmth when her skin touched mine.

Aesthetic ruined.

Despite the rule that I was breaking, I didn't let go of her hand until we were up the stairs and securely in my room.

Vanessa sat on her bed with a book in her hand, but when I cleared my throat once, she looked up at me.

"Oh hey, girl, you're back!"

"Yeah, can you give us the room?"

"Sure!"

She tossed the book to the side, grabbed her purse and gave me a quick side hug. "Going to grab booze. Are you feeling wine or whiskey tonight?" She smirked, and I rolled my eyes.

"What do you think?" I said, glancing toward Santana.

"Whiskey it is. See you later, Q ball."

When the door closed, I dropped her hand and rounded on her quicker than she expected.

"She's cute. Please tell me you hit that." Santana joked, and I scrunched up my face.

"She's like a sister."

"So am I, and you hit this more than once."

Santana was feeling playful, but I wasn't. I was panicking just seeing her because, for weeks, she was all I wanted, and now that she was right there in front of me, I felt way too many things simultaneously.

"What do you want?" I asked, walking around my bed, under the ruse of putting my bag and coffee down. Really, I was hoping to put a little distance between us.

She didn't cross her arms over her chest like she normally did when her defenses went up. Instead, her arms hung limply by her sides.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, Q" She said, honesty radiating from her for once. "We've been so out of touch since the last time you were in Lima, and that's not normal for us...not since..." A blush covered her cheeks as she rolled her eyes. "Valentine's."

"Things change. Not all of us can live off of Daddy while we 'find' ourselves." I snarled, giving her all the ammo she needed to storm out of my life and never return if that's what she wanted to do.

But Santana wasn't ashamed to be living off her parents like I would be. For her, it seemed to be a point of pride.

"Q, don't be like this." She said, coming around my bed and proving just how dumb it was to essentially trap myself with no exit but the door that was now behind her unless I jumped over the bed...which at this point didn't seem like a crazy idea.

"What do you want from me, Santana?" I was raising my voice now. The snarl became sharper as I was losing control of my emotions, and I knew there was no coming back when I lost complete control.

"I called to ask you to be my maid of honor...you didn't answer, so I had to pick Wheezy and Girl Chang. I had to get married without my best friend at my wedding in Podunk, Indiana."

Married? I had missed her wedding. How beautiful had she looked? It stung to know I wasn't there for her, but also, it made me sick to know that I'd lost my chance.

"Where IS Brittany, by the way?" I said while trying not to look at the band on her finger.

"She's auditioning at Julliard and NYU today. I was getting on her nerves with my worrying, so she sent me here."

"How nice of her."

She smiled all dreamy-eyed, and I wanted to vomit.

"It was...especially since Trouty spilled the beans about you and me not long after the wedding."

I wanted to kiss Sam and rolled my eyes at the thought. She was standing closer now, so close that I could smell the spice of her perfume.

"She trusts you a lot."

"Yeah..." She said with her eyes on my lips. I swallowed hard. This was not going how it should be.

"Should she?" I whispered as she closed the gap between us, leaving barely enough room for Jesus. "This is a bad idea." I whispered as I put out my hand, touching her hard abs through her top to stop her from getting closer. "San?"

She looked up at me with the realization of what she was doing hitting her as I tried to build my walls hastily.

"Huh?"

"Is your WIFE right to trust you being here with me?"

I thought she'd balk at the thought of Brittany and her trust in her, but she didn't.

She brushed my hand away and cupped my cheeks, her eyes looking back and forth between my own.

"I'm a work in progress, Q. She knows that, and for me to take the leap and marry her, she knows that I'm not going to be perfect all the time. What matters to B is that I go home to her at the end of the day. She's my first love, but I'm starting to realize she's not my only love."

"Don't." I warned.

"I love you, Quinn. I thought I could push it away, but seeing you with Biff and Puck made me angry. I thought you'd always need a man to complete you. So I ran to the only sure thing."

"Chicken shit." I muttered, and she shrugged.

"I'm here because I was worried about you. I thought I lost you. I thought you were drawing a line since I picked B."

"You're not wrong."

"I wish I was. I can't live my life without you, Q. I love you, and it's not puppy love like with B. What I feel for you is different. There's a heat between us that hasn't gone anywhere. I can tell that you feel it, too. She can never be you. I think I realized it too late…right?"

My heart was racing as I pushed her shoulder to get her to back off. I wanted to run away from this situation, and I wanted her to back the fuck off, but when I looked into her eyes, I ended up closing the gap between us instead.

Our lips crashed together as if it was what their sole purpose was. There were no rushed movements, just the caressing of my face.

This was wrong. It was a sin. Brittany was supposed to be my friend.

But I couldn't stop it.

Only she could.

Her hands touched me in all the ways that I liked, and I just stood there gripping her shirt tightly between my fists as she nibbled on my neck.

I didn't realize she was moving us until my ass smacked into the bed frame. Like lightning, a pain shot straight up the scar on my back. It began stinging like acid had been poured on my flesh.

And It was just the jolt that I needed.

"Fuck." I shrieked, shoving her away, reaching both hands to rub the base of my spine.

"Q?" She said, panic written in her features as she reached for me, not knowing what happened but seeing my pain.

"Don't. You need to leave. NOW!" I gritted out through clenched teeth, trying like hell not to cry.

"Q, let me help you."

The pain fed my rage as I straightened up and glared at her. My breakdown had to wait.

"You've done enough! You're fucking married. We CAN'T do this. I can't do this, Santana. Go back to New York, to Brittany. I don't think I can be near you anymore. I don't think I can even be your friend…I'm done with you."

Imagine Paris burning, all the priceless art and lovers becoming ash simultaneously as the world crumbles, and you'll get an accurate picture of what her face reflected.

"Quinn. Please?" She begged, daring to step close to me again as I began to sink onto my mattress, no longer able to stand my ground.

Her hand ran down the side of my face, and she lifted my chin as it rested in her palm.

"What do you want me to do with your declarations? Am I supposed to be your little slut? Wait for you to come to me when you have time? How am I supposed to be okay with you fucking me and then going home to her? Did you seriously think I would be okay with ANY of that? What do you want from me, Santana?"

"I...I don't know. You're not a slut. I'm sorry, Q...I didn't mean to hurt you. I love you."

"That's not good enough. I need you to leave me alone from here on out. Don't call me, don't message me, delete me from your life. Please?" I asked, hoping she'd understand.

"I can't do that, Q. I love you so much."

"You can and you will, Santana, because I'm marrying Puck, and you married Brittany. You made your choice, and now I have to make mine. Now GET OUT."

I lay there for God knows how long, hoping despite myself that she would come back and refuse to leave my side, but Santana knew me way too well. She knew that I would resent her presence. I had way too much pride to lean on her after I kicked her out.

Anyone else, Puck, Mother, Mercedes, Rachel fucking Berry, would have returned and refused to leave me, but I was grateful for once that I'd been left alone.

Because without anyone hovering, I found an old pill bottle in my nightstand drawer.

The one place I allow junk and clutter is that drawer, which I was extremely grateful for when I found my old prescription for Oxy. I fished out one of them and chewed it.

The bitter, chalky flavor hit the back of my throat, and I almost heaved over the side of my bed, but the pain in my back was too great to do much more than lay there on my stomach until the numbing set in.

When I came home that afternoon, this was the last thing I could have imagined for myself.

But when people make plans, God laughs.

Right about now, I'm sure God has his feet up with a galaxy-sized tub of popcorn.

I chuckled to myself as I passed out from the pain.

Hello, darkness, my old friend.