fic: The World Is Wrong Today
TITLE 
The World Is Wrong Today
CHARACTERS: Mike Chang, Santana Lopez.
WORDS: 1.3k.
RATING: PG-13.
DISCLAIMER: I don't owns the Glee.
SUMMARY: “They won’t hate you,” he says finally. He’s heard you can speak things into existence and he wants that for her so bad that he’s willing to try anything.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Post 306 fic.
It's late when he gets back from his date with Tina. He took her to the movies two towns over because Lima gets things late and she’d been talking about Immortals since she showed him the preview on the Apple site six months ago. Things are good with them even if they aren't with his dad still.
He's pulling his car into the driveway when he sees her, head leaning against her steering wheel. It's ...
She ran out of the auditorium after she slapped Finn, Brittany followed and she wouldn't answer her phone when he tried to call her a few hours later. He hadn't expected her to but he needed her to know that he tried, that he was there if she needed him, that he's here now.
He walks over slowly and watches her shoulders shake every few seconds. He taps on the window, lightly, when he gets there and she lifts her head slowly, doesn't even scowl, just looks at him with these hurt eyes he's only seen once, back in fourth grade when her abuelo died and they took her out of class to tell her. When she came back to get her things she looked devastated, cheeks red, eyes wide and wet, lips parted to take slow ragged breaths, like now. She doesn't say anything, just tilts her head up to tell him to back up and opens her door. She turns her body toward him. She's still in her performance dress but she's wearing black Chuck Taylor's on her feet.
"You want to come to mine?" is his way of asking if she's okay. When she nods and reaches to lace her fingers through his, he knows she's not. She's quiet the whole walk over, taking these deep breaths with puffy cheeks to keep that sob he hears rattling in her throat down. He rubs his thumb over the top of her hand, grips it a little tighter and unlocks his door.
"Michael?" His mom calls out before he's through the door. Santana’s face drops and her eyes look down.
"She won't bother," he whispers, letting her hand go to peel off his jacket and hang it up. She's shaking. He just wants to wrap her in his arms and like, make it better.
The stairs to the basement are near the kitchen where his mom is. She's got on yoga pants and a t-shirt from this breast cancer charity she dedicates a lot of time to. She smiles warmly and her eyes almost go wide when she sees that look on Santana's face but he raises his eyebrows and she nods at him sadly. Santana's just looking at the floor, toeing one foot against her ankle, so she misses it but she looks up when his mom says, "Hey Santana."
"Hi, Mrs. Chang." It comes out like a whisper and her fingers curl around his wrist.
"I didn't get to tell you after the show but you were the best Anita I've seen."
He knows she's trying to smile but it doesn't surface. She just says, “Thanks,” then squeezes his wrist.
"We're gonna go downstairs," he says. His mom nods then puts a hand on Santana's shoulder and squeezes.
"We ordered a pizza earlier. You're welcome to it, Michael."
He tells her thanks then leads Santana down to his room. She won't look up at any of the mirrors on his walls. She let's him go when they're downstairs and just stands for a moment while he kicks off his shoes and then she sits on the edge of his bed, hand curled into a fist, thumb rubbing over her knuckles.
"You want some clothes?" She nods and he pulls a pair of black sweats and an old The Hundreds tee from his dresser. She takes them and gets up to go to his en suite. She steps in then back out and looks at him with this expression he can't read and says, "Can you ... the zipper? I can't reach and Britt helped me put it..." She goes quiet like she might start crying if she keeps talking and he just gives her a soft smile and turns her around to unzip her. She mutters her thanks when it's at the small of her back then slips into his bathroom again.
He puts on some ball shorts and a white tee while she changes and sits at his desk. Her phone vibrates on his bed and he leans up to see that it's a text from her dad.
"Your dad sent you a text," he says when she walks back out, eyes trained up to the ceiling like she’s trying to hold it together. Her face pales and she takes in a breath, the muscles of her neck contracting like they did after she slapped Finn. He ... He feels like a jackass now.
"It's 11:00. He's probably just wondering where you are." She inhales and nods, then sits at the edge of his bed. She turns her phone over so she can't see the screen and crosses her ankles, her left foot shaking.
"Why aren't you…“
"I told her I was fine," she says then looks away. She bites down on both of her lips, taps her fist against her thigh.
"I made her cry," she says after a moment. "She never cries and she was crying because I couldn't stop."
He just listens because he knows that's what she needs him to do.
"I made myself stop so she would. And I told her I was okay and that she should sleep. I can't ruin her life too, Mike."
“You’re not going to ruin her life.”
“Everyone is going to know,” she sobs and she probably doesn’t want him to touch her but he gets up anyway, tugs her into the space under his arm, wraps his fingers around her wrist.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” she says sharply. “They’re going to hate me. And … I don’t want them to hate me.”
He wants to tell her everything will be okay and know it’s the truth. He hasn’t even spoken to his own father, save for pleasantries, since the argument in the hallway. And he’s been to Santana’s house, heard the remarks her dad makes about television characters and people. Her mom never corrects him and Santana always takes one of those slow breaths and … He wants everything to be okay because he wants that for her and he knows Britt does and he saw Mercedes with watery eyes explaining to Sugar that it wasn’t her place to tell and, fuck, they all want to be there for her but he knows she needs her family to accept her most of all.
“They won’t hate you,” he says finally. He’s heard you can speak things into existence and he wants that for her so bad that he’s willing to try anything. “You know I love you right? No matter what,” he adds.
He expects an elbow to the side, a “God, Mike, grow a pair,” a request to take it back; instead, she just leans into the embrace and whispers, “You too.”
He wishes he could fix everything. Rehearsals for West Side Story felt like the New Directions hadn’t splintered and surprisingly everyone got along well. They bickered, of course, but it was in jest and not for blood. He thinks that maybe it was because everybody felt important to the show.
She falls asleep with red cheeks and her fingers clinching his tee shirt. He picks her up and lays her against his pillows, wraps her in the red throw she’s tried to steal on more than one occasion.
She’d probably slug him for it but he picks up her phone and responds to her father’s text asking where she is. He pretends to be her and says that she’s spending the night at a friend’s. He knows he won’t question it. When ‘okay. love you, Squish’ comes back, he hopes it’s strong enough to get them through.
The World Is Wrong Today
CHARACTERS: Mike Chang, Santana Lopez.
WORDS: 1.3k.
RATING: PG-13.
DISCLAIMER: I don't owns the Glee.
SUMMARY: “They won’t hate you,” he says finally. He’s heard you can speak things into existence and he wants that for her so bad that he’s willing to try anything.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Post 306 fic.
It's late when he gets back from his date with Tina. He took her to the movies two towns over because Lima gets things late and she’d been talking about Immortals since she showed him the preview on the Apple site six months ago. Things are good with them even if they aren't with his dad still.
He's pulling his car into the driveway when he sees her, head leaning against her steering wheel. It's ...
She ran out of the auditorium after she slapped Finn, Brittany followed and she wouldn't answer her phone when he tried to call her a few hours later. He hadn't expected her to but he needed her to know that he tried, that he was there if she needed him, that he's here now.
He walks over slowly and watches her shoulders shake every few seconds. He taps on the window, lightly, when he gets there and she lifts her head slowly, doesn't even scowl, just looks at him with these hurt eyes he's only seen once, back in fourth grade when her abuelo died and they took her out of class to tell her. When she came back to get her things she looked devastated, cheeks red, eyes wide and wet, lips parted to take slow ragged breaths, like now. She doesn't say anything, just tilts her head up to tell him to back up and opens her door. She turns her body toward him. She's still in her performance dress but she's wearing black Chuck Taylor's on her feet.
"You want to come to mine?" is his way of asking if she's okay. When she nods and reaches to lace her fingers through his, he knows she's not. She's quiet the whole walk over, taking these deep breaths with puffy cheeks to keep that sob he hears rattling in her throat down. He rubs his thumb over the top of her hand, grips it a little tighter and unlocks his door.
"Michael?" His mom calls out before he's through the door. Santana’s face drops and her eyes look down.
"She won't bother," he whispers, letting her hand go to peel off his jacket and hang it up. She's shaking. He just wants to wrap her in his arms and like, make it better.
The stairs to the basement are near the kitchen where his mom is. She's got on yoga pants and a t-shirt from this breast cancer charity she dedicates a lot of time to. She smiles warmly and her eyes almost go wide when she sees that look on Santana's face but he raises his eyebrows and she nods at him sadly. Santana's just looking at the floor, toeing one foot against her ankle, so she misses it but she looks up when his mom says, "Hey Santana."
"Hi, Mrs. Chang." It comes out like a whisper and her fingers curl around his wrist.
"I didn't get to tell you after the show but you were the best Anita I've seen."
He knows she's trying to smile but it doesn't surface. She just says, “Thanks,” then squeezes his wrist.
"We're gonna go downstairs," he says. His mom nods then puts a hand on Santana's shoulder and squeezes.
"We ordered a pizza earlier. You're welcome to it, Michael."
He tells her thanks then leads Santana down to his room. She won't look up at any of the mirrors on his walls. She let's him go when they're downstairs and just stands for a moment while he kicks off his shoes and then she sits on the edge of his bed, hand curled into a fist, thumb rubbing over her knuckles.
"You want some clothes?" She nods and he pulls a pair of black sweats and an old The Hundreds tee from his dresser. She takes them and gets up to go to his en suite. She steps in then back out and looks at him with this expression he can't read and says, "Can you ... the zipper? I can't reach and Britt helped me put it..." She goes quiet like she might start crying if she keeps talking and he just gives her a soft smile and turns her around to unzip her. She mutters her thanks when it's at the small of her back then slips into his bathroom again.
He puts on some ball shorts and a white tee while she changes and sits at his desk. Her phone vibrates on his bed and he leans up to see that it's a text from her dad.
"Your dad sent you a text," he says when she walks back out, eyes trained up to the ceiling like she’s trying to hold it together. Her face pales and she takes in a breath, the muscles of her neck contracting like they did after she slapped Finn. He ... He feels like a jackass now.
"It's 11:00. He's probably just wondering where you are." She inhales and nods, then sits at the edge of his bed. She turns her phone over so she can't see the screen and crosses her ankles, her left foot shaking.
"Why aren't you…“
"I told her I was fine," she says then looks away. She bites down on both of her lips, taps her fist against her thigh.
"I made her cry," she says after a moment. "She never cries and she was crying because I couldn't stop."
He just listens because he knows that's what she needs him to do.
"I made myself stop so she would. And I told her I was okay and that she should sleep. I can't ruin her life too, Mike."
“You’re not going to ruin her life.”
“Everyone is going to know,” she sobs and she probably doesn’t want him to touch her but he gets up anyway, tugs her into the space under his arm, wraps his fingers around her wrist.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” she says sharply. “They’re going to hate me. And … I don’t want them to hate me.”
He wants to tell her everything will be okay and know it’s the truth. He hasn’t even spoken to his own father, save for pleasantries, since the argument in the hallway. And he’s been to Santana’s house, heard the remarks her dad makes about television characters and people. Her mom never corrects him and Santana always takes one of those slow breaths and … He wants everything to be okay because he wants that for her and he knows Britt does and he saw Mercedes with watery eyes explaining to Sugar that it wasn’t her place to tell and, fuck, they all want to be there for her but he knows she needs her family to accept her most of all.
“They won’t hate you,” he says finally. He’s heard you can speak things into existence and he wants that for her so bad that he’s willing to try anything. “You know I love you right? No matter what,” he adds.
He expects an elbow to the side, a “God, Mike, grow a pair,” a request to take it back; instead, she just leans into the embrace and whispers, “You too.”
He wishes he could fix everything. Rehearsals for West Side Story felt like the New Directions hadn’t splintered and surprisingly everyone got along well. They bickered, of course, but it was in jest and not for blood. He thinks that maybe it was because everybody felt important to the show.
She falls asleep with red cheeks and her fingers clinching his tee shirt. He picks her up and lays her against his pillows, wraps her in the red throw she’s tried to steal on more than one occasion.
She’d probably slug him for it but he picks up her phone and responds to her father’s text asking where she is. He pretends to be her and says that she’s spending the night at a friend’s. He knows he won’t question it. When ‘okay. love you, Squish’ comes back, he hopes it’s strong enough to get them through.