Twisting And Turning (In A Space That's Too Small)
Title: Twisting And Turning (In A Space That's Too Small)
Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce
Rating: PG-13, language
Disclaimer: Nothing owned, no profit gained.
Spoilers: Vaguely through S2.
Summary: They're not together; it should be easy to make it official.
A/N: Angst-fest, technically set somewhere around Duets. Title from James Morrison's "The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore."
They’re not even together.
They’re not together, not really, and it’s better that way-she thinks. Being together brings all sorts of complications, things she has absolutely no interest in dealing with. Things she's not strong enough for. There’s the stigma, the sidelong stares they’d get from friends, the arch frowns from parents. There’s the awkwardness, the fumbling over what words to use, what titles count around whom. There are all the petty little dramas she delights in fabricating for other people-but doesn’t need herself.
It should make things easier, how true that is:
They’re not together.
There’s a reason for that. Lots of reasons, really. She doesn’t seem like a reasonable person, at first glance, but the fact of the matter is, she knows what’s best. For her, anyway.
She likes to think she knows what’s best for certain other people as well. That’s kind of why she’s doing this. Whatever…this…is.
She doesn’t think she wants to put a name on it. That would mean slowing down enough to really look at it, really stare it in the face and she…well. She doesn’t want to do that.
If she does that, she might not have the strength it takes to…
Walking away is easy. Walking away has to be easy. If she lets it be hard, she’ll remember that she’s not good at hard. She’s not good at courage, or willpower, or being The Better Man.
So to speak.
Walking away, head down, hands in her pockets-that’s what she’s good at. It’s what she has to be good at. One of them has to be.
Because the temptation is strong. It would be such a bold-faced lie to say otherwise, to say it isn't the most tempting thing of her life. To give in, to let it wash over her, to close her eyes and allow everything the chance to drift away-it could be great, for a moment. She could feel…whole. Beautiful. Less lonely, if not actually perfect.
She thinks this is as close to perfect as she’s ever going to get, and she can’t even let it happen. It’s disheartening, but it doesn’t matter. She can’t let it matter.
She’s not the right person for the job, anyway. She’s too…her. She’s angry, and cynical, and puts too many petty little issues above what really matters. She always has. She’s jealous, and she’s bitchy, and she always, always says the wrong thing. And she is always forgiven for it.
You can only be forgiven so many times before something just…snaps.
She has to get out before that happens. She doesn’t have another choice. If she keeps at this, keeps pulling and prodding and jerking away before soft hands can land on her for good, everything will fall apart. She’s spent too much time building this up, this safe little haven where everything is warm and nice and so different from the rest of the world. Too much time to let it all fall down now.
They’re not together. Not really. And it’s not because there isn’t something there. It’s not because she doesn’t feel. God knows, she wishes she didn’t. Things are so much easier when there aren’t feelings-when it doesn’t hurt to know your boyfriend fucked your best friend, when it doesn’t bother you in the least to watch another girl flash in the eyes of that night’s conquest, when old friends don’t have the power to crawl under your skin anymore. She’s good at easy. Easy is comfortable.
This is not.
But she has to be honest: they’re so young. They can get away with this and still be all right. No one meets their forever in high school-if, in fact, one is to believe in forever in the first place. Not that she does. Not that she can. Forever is for people who haven’t seen the crap she’s seen. Forever is for people who haven’t witnessed divorce, and adultery, people who haven’t helped lovers lie to one another, and systematically broken down other people’s chances at happiness…
Forever is stupid. She may not be a shoo-in for valedictorian, but she’s smart enough to discount that much, at least.
It’s going to hurt.
It’s going to be really, truly unpleasant, seeing the hurt in those blue eyes. It’s going to make her feel awful: like throwing up and punching a wall and finding someone who might actually listen while she raves like a lunatic-Wheezy, maybe; she’s a hell of a diva, but there's a bizarre, genuine wisdom about her. It’s going to make her feel for a moment like her whole world is crumbling down. She can have that moment.
But no more. A moment is enough. Anything beyond that makes her weak, and she can’t handle that, not right now. She’s a great liar, but this is the one person on earth with the ability to see right through that, and-
Well. It’s time to act her ass off.
They’re not together. That’s not an accident.
She can do this.
It isn’t like she wanted forever in the first place.
Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce
Rating: PG-13, language
Disclaimer: Nothing owned, no profit gained.
Spoilers: Vaguely through S2.
Summary: They're not together; it should be easy to make it official.
A/N: Angst-fest, technically set somewhere around Duets. Title from James Morrison's "The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore."
They’re not even together.
They’re not together, not really, and it’s better that way-she thinks. Being together brings all sorts of complications, things she has absolutely no interest in dealing with. Things she's not strong enough for. There’s the stigma, the sidelong stares they’d get from friends, the arch frowns from parents. There’s the awkwardness, the fumbling over what words to use, what titles count around whom. There are all the petty little dramas she delights in fabricating for other people-but doesn’t need herself.
It should make things easier, how true that is:
They’re not together.
There’s a reason for that. Lots of reasons, really. She doesn’t seem like a reasonable person, at first glance, but the fact of the matter is, she knows what’s best. For her, anyway.
She likes to think she knows what’s best for certain other people as well. That’s kind of why she’s doing this. Whatever…this…is.
She doesn’t think she wants to put a name on it. That would mean slowing down enough to really look at it, really stare it in the face and she…well. She doesn’t want to do that.
If she does that, she might not have the strength it takes to…
Walking away is easy. Walking away has to be easy. If she lets it be hard, she’ll remember that she’s not good at hard. She’s not good at courage, or willpower, or being The Better Man.
So to speak.
Walking away, head down, hands in her pockets-that’s what she’s good at. It’s what she has to be good at. One of them has to be.
Because the temptation is strong. It would be such a bold-faced lie to say otherwise, to say it isn't the most tempting thing of her life. To give in, to let it wash over her, to close her eyes and allow everything the chance to drift away-it could be great, for a moment. She could feel…whole. Beautiful. Less lonely, if not actually perfect.
She thinks this is as close to perfect as she’s ever going to get, and she can’t even let it happen. It’s disheartening, but it doesn’t matter. She can’t let it matter.
She’s not the right person for the job, anyway. She’s too…her. She’s angry, and cynical, and puts too many petty little issues above what really matters. She always has. She’s jealous, and she’s bitchy, and she always, always says the wrong thing. And she is always forgiven for it.
You can only be forgiven so many times before something just…snaps.
She has to get out before that happens. She doesn’t have another choice. If she keeps at this, keeps pulling and prodding and jerking away before soft hands can land on her for good, everything will fall apart. She’s spent too much time building this up, this safe little haven where everything is warm and nice and so different from the rest of the world. Too much time to let it all fall down now.
They’re not together. Not really. And it’s not because there isn’t something there. It’s not because she doesn’t feel. God knows, she wishes she didn’t. Things are so much easier when there aren’t feelings-when it doesn’t hurt to know your boyfriend fucked your best friend, when it doesn’t bother you in the least to watch another girl flash in the eyes of that night’s conquest, when old friends don’t have the power to crawl under your skin anymore. She’s good at easy. Easy is comfortable.
This is not.
But she has to be honest: they’re so young. They can get away with this and still be all right. No one meets their forever in high school-if, in fact, one is to believe in forever in the first place. Not that she does. Not that she can. Forever is for people who haven’t seen the crap she’s seen. Forever is for people who haven’t witnessed divorce, and adultery, people who haven’t helped lovers lie to one another, and systematically broken down other people’s chances at happiness…
Forever is stupid. She may not be a shoo-in for valedictorian, but she’s smart enough to discount that much, at least.
It’s going to hurt.
It’s going to be really, truly unpleasant, seeing the hurt in those blue eyes. It’s going to make her feel awful: like throwing up and punching a wall and finding someone who might actually listen while she raves like a lunatic-Wheezy, maybe; she’s a hell of a diva, but there's a bizarre, genuine wisdom about her. It’s going to make her feel for a moment like her whole world is crumbling down. She can have that moment.
But no more. A moment is enough. Anything beyond that makes her weak, and she can’t handle that, not right now. She’s a great liar, but this is the one person on earth with the ability to see right through that, and-
Well. It’s time to act her ass off.
They’re not together. That’s not an accident.
She can do this.
It isn’t like she wanted forever in the first place.