Lover Dearest 9/20
Chapter Five: I'll Just Hide It
On my eighteenth birthday, I cut all my classes and sat alone in the McKinley Football Field.
I was dressed comfortably in my own clothes - I'd recently snuck back into my own house and packed a bag full of them - and I had, as was becoming usual these days, no appetite.
I spent most of the day reminiscing to myself all the plans I used to have for this day. When I was younger it seemed so important to make such a big deal about my eighteenth year on earth. I had the whole picture painted out in my head: everyone in school - or at least, everyone who mattered - would be there, and there would be a pool, and an open bar, and everyone would dub it the party to end all parties. I wouldn't really interact with anyone, but Brittany would be attached to my hip, and we'd be dancing the night away center stage.
None of that really seemed to matter now. All I wanted was to be left alone, undisturbed, in the peace that was becoming rare for me. From Quinn's loud, abrasive music, to the constant buzz of the hallways and the ringing of insults yelled into my ears, quiet had become the ideal state of being.
When the football players came to the field to practice in the late afternoon, I snuck up to the technician's room in the McKinley gymnasium, which had a tiny opening leading to the roof, where I knew no one would be.
I laid myself flat on the roofing material and stared up at the dimming sky. The different shades of blue reminded me of Brittany's eyes, and my thoughts drifted easily to her. I wondered briefly where she was, and what she was doing. Did she remember what today was? Did she still care? What was she doing? What was she thinking? What was she feeling?
When the entire school had cleared out, I went back into the Technician's room and made my way off the campus. On the way, I pulled out my phone from my pocket, just in time to see that Quinn was calling me.
"You've reached the biggest train wreck on earth."
"You missed the big test in Algebra, and Mr. Schuester wanted to give you a solo for Regionals." Pause. "And Brittany's looking for you."
I inhaled sharply. "What did you tell her?"
"The truth. That I had no fucking idea where the hell you were. She kept trying to call you. Why wouldn't you pick up?"
I bit back a sigh. "My phone was on silent the whole day. I didn't notice."
Quinn snorted. "You should seriously consider pulling your crap together, Lopez. Where are you?"
"Uh…" I looked around me.
"Never mind, I think I can see you. What are you doing walking alone in the dark?" The call abruptly disconnected then. I peered at the screen. 3 Missed Calls. 5 Unread Messages.
"Lopez, wher the hell r u?" Delete. "Santana, I have just been informed that today is your 18th birthday. My sincerest wishes for a meaningful celebration." Delete. "Yo, Puck here. Hppy bday." Delete. "Lopez, I will kick ur ass wen I see u. PICK THE FUCK UP" Delete. "San? i didn't c u in schl 2day. r u ok? just wantd 2 say happy birthday. wish i cud b werever u r. i miss u"
I re-read the message over and over, soaking it in like it was my salvation. She remembered. She was looking for me. She wanted to be where I was. She missed me.
It didn't change things, but it made me smile the first time the whole day.
"LOPEZ!" I heard Quinn's voice call out to me, bursting from the silence. I turned towards the direction of her voice, and she emerged slowly from the darkness. She wasn't alone.
"Yo, Satan." Puck greeted, nodding in my direction. "Ready to drink away your eighteenth?"
I didn't reply. I looked around Puck, where Blaine was standing nervously.
"Hello, Santana." Blaine said tentatively, giving a small wave. "I hope you don't mind my being here."
"He'll tell you he tagged along." Quinn said shortly, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "Truth is, he stuck to me like a fucking parasite."
Blaine seemed to shrink under the weight of her glare.
"Whatever." I shrugged. Brittany's text message was still lingering in my mind, and it was difficult to care about something as silly as Frodo wanting to hang around with the rowdy bunch. "I don't care."
Blaine looked relieved. Quinn just rolled her eyes.
"Well, come on then." She began to pull me by the edge of my sleeve. "Let's go and celebrate."
/
Quinn's idea of a celebration was a seedy bar in the far corner of town, which was practically empty. I ordered a single beer, since I wasn't interested in getting wasted. Blaine followed my lead.
"I thought Mr. Schue had you guys promise not to drink." He commented, as he took a sip.
"That was last year."
"Oh." He scratched his head. "Can I talk to you?" He asked me, just as he took the empty seat beside mine. Puck and Quinn were heading to a nearby convenience store, where they were going to purchase loads of junk food.
"You can talk," I replied, taking a sip of amber liquid, "but that doesn't mean I will."
He looked stumped - which made him look like a pouting puppy for a moment - then he nodded slowly. "Okay, deal. But you've got to promise me you're going to listen."
I sighed dejectedly, glaring at him slightly. "You aren't going to stop bugging me, are you?"
A twinkle entered his eyes, and he drank a mouthful of his beer. "No, not really."
"Even if you do know that it is my birthday?" I added.
He shook his head. "Especially because it's your birthday."
I took the bottle in my hands and emptied its contents in one go. He watched in amazement. "Fine." I said exasperatedly. "Go ahead, tell me I'm stupid, and retarded, and mean, and cruel, and evi-"
"I should probably begin by saying I come in peace." He interrupted, holding up his hands. "I'm not here to call you names. I'm not like that, Santana. The last thing I want to do here is make you look like the bad guy."
"What do you want then?" I half-snapped.
"Well, for starters, I want to understand." His voice had lowered, and he moved closer towards me. "I want to understand what you're doing, and why."
I snorted, waving for the attention of the bartender. I pointed to my empty bottle and stuck up two fingers. Two beers.
"Santana?" He prodded.
"I'm not obliged to answer any of your questions." I reminded him, just as the bartender set down freshly opened bottles of beer. I took one immediately and drank deeply.
He leaned back, looking thoughtful. "Why weren't you in glee today?" He asked casually, taking a sip from his drink.
I rolled my eyes. "It was my birthday gift to myself."
"You were supposed to have a solo."
"Don't want it."
"Now we have a duet."
"I - what?"
He smiled. He knew he had my attention. "We've been assigned the opening duet."
I groaned. "Pick someone else. I don't want it."
"Thing is, I think you need it." He murmured, taking a swig from his bottle.
"What exactly are we supposed to be singing?"
He hesitated for a moment. "It's a mash-up. Tonight by FM Static and Vanilla Twilight by Owl City."
I stared at him. "You're kidding."
"Not at all."
"So basically we're singing about losing love to death. There's a big NO FUCKING WAY flashing in my head right now in red neon lights."
"Who said it needs to be about losing love to death?" He looked at me seriously. "If you think about it, it could also be about losing love… to life."
I stared at him for a long moment. He matched my gaze, refusing to look away. Deep inside, I could hear what he was really saying, without saying the words at all. It struck a deep cord in the fiber of my being. I felt like he could see right through me. It was frightening.
"Look, Santana." He said softly, leaning forward. I looked away. "I know that it's none of my business. I know that I know nothing about what's really going on here. Brittany doesn't want to say anything, I think partly because she doesn't really understand, and partly because she's trying to protect you. And you're just the most impenetrable person I've ever met in my entire life." He paused. "But I can't help thinking that you're shattering faster and harder than Brittany is."
I said nothing, tracing the shape of the bottle mouth. He sighed quietly.
"I don't expect you to tell me anything, Santana. But I want you to know that I am here for you. And so are Quinn and Puck. And, believe it or not, Rachel. I know you think you need to bear all this on your own and that you have to keep your secrets to yourself, but you don't." He shook his head. "You honestly don't."
"Yo, bitches, what's happening?" A bag of groceries were dumped abruptly on the table. Puck and Quinn dropped into the empty seats beside us, signaling for the bartender's attention. I could still feel Blaine's eyes on me, even as I busied myself with pulling out a bag of chips.
"Round of beers." Puck ordered, making a circle shape in the air around us. "And don't worry, we'll pay for bringing in food."
"Actually, I need to go." Blaine said, standing. "I promised my mom I would help her repaint my little sister's room tonight." He smiled around at us, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. "Thanks for having me. Happy Birthday, Santana." He turned around and took his jacket off the back of the chair. "Oh, I almost forgot." He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a tiny, neatly packed box. "This is from Brittany. She still isn't really allowed out, so she asked me to give this to you. She says happy birthday."
I felt my throat closing up when he extend out his arm to me. I took the package from his hand. "Thanks." I said, in a voice that barely sounded like my own.
"I wish you all the best." He replied simply. "And you know where to find me." He left.
"He just didn't want to get wasted." Puck sneered after Blaine's retreating form. "He might've gone around questioning his sexuality again, or something stupid like that."
I finished my second beer and shrugged. "Actually, I think I want to go, too." I stood, Quinn looking perplexedly up at me. "I'll just walk. I'll see you back in your place?"
"Alright." Quinn said, sounding faintly annoyed. I was going to have to make it up to her.
"Here." I said, taking out my wallet and setting down $20. "My treat."
"Oh, hey, look at that!" Puck said excitedly.
Just before I left, Quinn hand closed around my arm. "I'll walk you out."
I blinked. "Sure." I grabbed my jacket and put it on.
"You ok?" Quinn demanded, as soon as we were out of Puck's earshot. "Do I need to kick some hobbit ass?"
I laughed shakily. "Nah. I appreciate the offer though. Frodo behaved today. He was just…" I searched for the word inside my head. "Concerned."
"Huh." She said, folding her arms over her chest. She was tense, I could feel it. "Did you tell him anything?"
I looked at her. "No, of course not."
"Why the fuck not?" She asked, looking anywhere but me. I grabbed her arm and squeezed tightly.
"If there's anyone I'm going to tell shit to, it's you, alright? Not some transferee student."
Quinn said nothing for a fraction of a minute. Then her entire face relaxed - her scowl faded, her eyes became less guarded. "Really?" Her voice was soft, hesitant, as gentle as butterfly wings.
My heart squeezed in my chest. "Hell, yeah."
She smiled. "Awesome."
/
Later on, in the privacy of Quinn's empty bedroom, I gently unwrapped the package, taking extra care not to rip anything. Behind the wrapper, in a tiny section, Brittany's handwriting caught my attention.
I love you. Always.
I opened the box and stifled a gasp.
No way.
Suddenly dizzy, I felt myself dropping ungracefully on the floor, leaning against the wall. I stared at it unblinkingly for a full minute. It felt like my heart was expanding five times in my chest, crushing my lungs, making it impossible to breathe.
When my trembling fingers finally reached in and held it up, the white life turned into the colors of the rainbow. It was magical, and breathtaking, and utterly heart wrenching.
I felt completely unworthy of it.
Feeling sick, I finally put it back into its case, and stared at it some more.
Cushioned by pure black velvet, the diamond ring sparkled madly up at me. In the insides of the ring, engraved to last forever, it said: B&S.