Setting Rain on Fire 15.1/20
First of all, I really appreciate your reviews and comments for the last two chapters. I’m glad that most of you thought really deeply about the situation. And yehey for New York! xD
I forgot to mention that the last chapter was dedicated to Dianna Agron.
Again, I hope you tell me what you think, because your opinions are amazing.
Chapter Fifteen [Part One]: Caught in the Crossfire
“And when the hardest part is over we'll be here,
and our dreams will break the boundaries of our fears.”
Crossfire, Brandon Flowers
“I was beginning to think they weren’t planning to leave.” Santana comments drily while shutting the door with a determined snap. She turns and leans against the wooden surface. For a moment she doesn’t move, staring blankly at the ground beneath her feet. Then she inhales deeply and closes her eyes.
“You alright?” I ask her softly, stepping towards her from my seat on the couch. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, but she keeps her head down. After a moment she raises her eyes to meet mine.
“Where’d you keep the duck?” She asks softly, looking at me with curious - but guarded - eyes.
I feel my lips twitch into a smile, the first real one I’ve made since the talk with Quinn. I point towards the small kitchenette area. “He’s in the sink.”
Santana nods absently, before closing her eyes again. For a moment neither of says anything, then I sigh and walk towards her.
“Where are you right now?” I wrap my arms around her, gathering her to me gently. She presses her face to the crook of my neck, and throws her arms around my neck.
“I’ve got a lot of things on my mind.” She explains in a low voice. I wait patiently, swaying her lightly back and forth, until we’re dancing to the quiet music of our hearts beating in sync. “Kurt said some things to me today, while you were talking with Quinn-” Her voice trembles slightly, “-and it just stuck with me.”
I nod slightly, because I know what she means. The remnants of my conversation with Quinn have run back and forth in the highways of my mind so many times, its burned bridges while simultaneously building some. The words have literally invaded my mind, and it’s difficult to think of anything else without my thoughts looping inevitably back to Taylor Linwich, forgiveness, closure. All that.
She sighs once, snapping me out of my internal bubble. She burrows her head deeper into my neck and chokes, “I just don’t really want to think right now.”
“Alright, babe.” I whisper, leaning my head against hers. We sway for a few more minutes, before I stop moving and break the silence with a quiet, “Hey.”
“Hmmm?” She replies, pulling back to look at me.
I give her a soft smile, before reaching out to rub some dirt off her cheek. “Thank you for today.”
She responds by clutching me tightly, desperately, and saying in a breaking voice, “You know I love you, right?”
“I know.” I assure her, cupping her face with both my hands. “I’ve never doubted that.”
Her eyes glaze over and she whispers, “Not even in high school?”
I blink once, surprised. “What do you mean?”
She pulls out of my grasp abruptly, turning her face away.
“San?” I ask worriedly, moving towards her. I extend my arm to touch hers, but she quickly walks to a far corner of the room, her back to me.
“How can you love me?” She asks me in a tortured whisper. “I’m a horrible person.”
“Santana!” I exclaim, shocked. “That isn’t true. You know that isn’t true. Don’t say that.”
“It’s true!” She explodes all of a sudden. “God, Brittany!” She lets out a strangled sob. “I don’t have a fucking spine.”
Some part of me wants to retort sarcastically and point out that she does have a fully functioning spinal column, but I bite my tongue because whatever’s on her mind is clearly bothering her. So instead I inhale deeply, and think back on the original question: Not even in high school?
“I always knew that you loved me.” I answer loudly. She looks up, surprised. “Even in high school. Even with Puck, and Finn, and Sam, and Karofsky. Whoever you happened to be with, whoever you just happened to hook up with. I always knew you loved me. I knew long before you did. And that was the problem.” Her mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out. “I had to wait for you to figure it out. Then I had to wait for you to accept it. I had to wait for you to be brave enough to learn to love yourself, because that was the only way you were ever going to truly admit to yourself how you felt about me.” I swallow thickly, watching the motions rush across her face. “But through it all, I still knew that you loved me.” I shrug slightly. “I suppose that’s why I didn’t mind waiting, why I was willing to stay in the sidelines while you learned to get over the shame of being who you are. I didn’t mind as long as you would finally learn to accept yourself completely and unwaveringly, with an open mind and heart.”
I take a step towards her. “At some point in senior year, I was even willing to let you go just so you’d find yourself.” I take another step closer. She doesn’t back away. “And that was when I realized how much I really, truly loved you, too. I loved you so much I was ready to let you go and move on without me, as long as you managed to finally love every bit of the amazing person that you are, Santana.”
“How can I love you?” I continue. I pause, trying to find the right words to express the emotions that bring out responses in me that are as instinctual as breathing.
“I need to love you.” I say after a moment. I take another step towards her. “It’s the core of my existence, San. Sometimes I feel like the only reason I’m really here is to love you. Like I was born for the sole purpose of loving you. It’s the most natural thing I’ve ever done in the world. I need to love you, because in many ways, it’s the only way I’ve ever known to love myself.”
“But I’m a coward.” She whispers brokenly. She’s so close I can feel her breath blowing over my face.
I slam my foot against the ground, and I hear her gasp. “Don’t you dare say that.” I say coolly. “I won’t let anyone insult you. Not even yourself.”
For a moment neither of us says anything. I watch as a single tear runs slowly down her cheek. It’s the best way she could have said thank you.
“What do you think would have happened if we didn’t end up together, back in high school?” She asks me softly, taking a tentative step towards me, closing the distance.
“I would have been living with eyes that worked but had nothing to see.” I answer in a voice as soft as hers. Slowly, she makes her way back into my arms. “Or ears that worked but had nothing to hear. Skin that felt but nothing to touch.” She sighs slightly, laying her head on my shoulder. “A heart that could beat had nothing to live for.”
She sniffs slightly. “Sometimes,” she begins softly against my collarbone. I strain my ears to hear her clearly. “Sometimes I still feel like that girl in high school. The one who didn’t really love herself.”
“I know.” I tell her, as she begins to cry earnestly.
“Especially after Nicholas was killed.” She sobs. I feel a pang as the words TAYLOR LINWICH zooms through my head in big, bold letters. “For a while I felt so ashamed that he died because of what we were.” She shudders. “And there was a moment after the funeral when I couldn’t stop thinking that he wouldn’t have died if one of us had been a guy.”
I feel myself tense slightly. Then I relax and whisper, “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” She disagrees. “I can’t believe I let myself feel ashamed of us because of what happened.” She pulls back slightly, and I see resolve lighting slowly in her expressive, brown eyes. “I hurt you because of it.”
I begin to shake my head, but she presses on.
“It’s true, Brittany. By feeling that shame, by thinking those thoughts, I wasn’t just denying myself self-realization, I was also degrading us. I realize that now.” She clenches her jaw.
“Santana -” I try to interrupt.
“It isn’t enough for me to say that I love you.” She carries on, ignoring me. She looks at me seriously before adding in a calm voice, “I need to tell you now that I love us.”
Her words hit me like a freight train. Tears form in my eyes, and I feel a smile forming across my cheeks. I lean towards her slowly, pressing my lips against her forehead. “I love you.” I whisper against her skin. I feel her tremble slightly. “And I love us, too, so, so much.”
She looks up at me and smiles tenderly. Then she takes a deep breath before saying, “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Yeah.” I reply, my smile fading when TAYLOR LINWICH flashes in my mind again. “There’s something I need to tell you too.”
“Kurt talked to me today about joining the fight against homophobia.” She blurts out.
My mouth opens in a quiet pop and the air feels like it’s been punched out of me. But she isn’t done yet. She grasps both my hands in hers and finishes with,
“And now I realize he’s right. We should.”
I forgot to mention that the last chapter was dedicated to Dianna Agron.
Again, I hope you tell me what you think, because your opinions are amazing.
Chapter Fifteen [Part One]: Caught in the Crossfire
“And when the hardest part is over we'll be here,
and our dreams will break the boundaries of our fears.”
Crossfire, Brandon Flowers
“I was beginning to think they weren’t planning to leave.” Santana comments drily while shutting the door with a determined snap. She turns and leans against the wooden surface. For a moment she doesn’t move, staring blankly at the ground beneath her feet. Then she inhales deeply and closes her eyes.
“You alright?” I ask her softly, stepping towards her from my seat on the couch. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, but she keeps her head down. After a moment she raises her eyes to meet mine.
“Where’d you keep the duck?” She asks softly, looking at me with curious - but guarded - eyes.
I feel my lips twitch into a smile, the first real one I’ve made since the talk with Quinn. I point towards the small kitchenette area. “He’s in the sink.”
Santana nods absently, before closing her eyes again. For a moment neither of says anything, then I sigh and walk towards her.
“Where are you right now?” I wrap my arms around her, gathering her to me gently. She presses her face to the crook of my neck, and throws her arms around my neck.
“I’ve got a lot of things on my mind.” She explains in a low voice. I wait patiently, swaying her lightly back and forth, until we’re dancing to the quiet music of our hearts beating in sync. “Kurt said some things to me today, while you were talking with Quinn-” Her voice trembles slightly, “-and it just stuck with me.”
I nod slightly, because I know what she means. The remnants of my conversation with Quinn have run back and forth in the highways of my mind so many times, its burned bridges while simultaneously building some. The words have literally invaded my mind, and it’s difficult to think of anything else without my thoughts looping inevitably back to Taylor Linwich, forgiveness, closure. All that.
She sighs once, snapping me out of my internal bubble. She burrows her head deeper into my neck and chokes, “I just don’t really want to think right now.”
“Alright, babe.” I whisper, leaning my head against hers. We sway for a few more minutes, before I stop moving and break the silence with a quiet, “Hey.”
“Hmmm?” She replies, pulling back to look at me.
I give her a soft smile, before reaching out to rub some dirt off her cheek. “Thank you for today.”
She responds by clutching me tightly, desperately, and saying in a breaking voice, “You know I love you, right?”
“I know.” I assure her, cupping her face with both my hands. “I’ve never doubted that.”
Her eyes glaze over and she whispers, “Not even in high school?”
I blink once, surprised. “What do you mean?”
She pulls out of my grasp abruptly, turning her face away.
“San?” I ask worriedly, moving towards her. I extend my arm to touch hers, but she quickly walks to a far corner of the room, her back to me.
“How can you love me?” She asks me in a tortured whisper. “I’m a horrible person.”
“Santana!” I exclaim, shocked. “That isn’t true. You know that isn’t true. Don’t say that.”
“It’s true!” She explodes all of a sudden. “God, Brittany!” She lets out a strangled sob. “I don’t have a fucking spine.”
Some part of me wants to retort sarcastically and point out that she does have a fully functioning spinal column, but I bite my tongue because whatever’s on her mind is clearly bothering her. So instead I inhale deeply, and think back on the original question: Not even in high school?
“I always knew that you loved me.” I answer loudly. She looks up, surprised. “Even in high school. Even with Puck, and Finn, and Sam, and Karofsky. Whoever you happened to be with, whoever you just happened to hook up with. I always knew you loved me. I knew long before you did. And that was the problem.” Her mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out. “I had to wait for you to figure it out. Then I had to wait for you to accept it. I had to wait for you to be brave enough to learn to love yourself, because that was the only way you were ever going to truly admit to yourself how you felt about me.” I swallow thickly, watching the motions rush across her face. “But through it all, I still knew that you loved me.” I shrug slightly. “I suppose that’s why I didn’t mind waiting, why I was willing to stay in the sidelines while you learned to get over the shame of being who you are. I didn’t mind as long as you would finally learn to accept yourself completely and unwaveringly, with an open mind and heart.”
I take a step towards her. “At some point in senior year, I was even willing to let you go just so you’d find yourself.” I take another step closer. She doesn’t back away. “And that was when I realized how much I really, truly loved you, too. I loved you so much I was ready to let you go and move on without me, as long as you managed to finally love every bit of the amazing person that you are, Santana.”
“How can I love you?” I continue. I pause, trying to find the right words to express the emotions that bring out responses in me that are as instinctual as breathing.
“I need to love you.” I say after a moment. I take another step towards her. “It’s the core of my existence, San. Sometimes I feel like the only reason I’m really here is to love you. Like I was born for the sole purpose of loving you. It’s the most natural thing I’ve ever done in the world. I need to love you, because in many ways, it’s the only way I’ve ever known to love myself.”
“But I’m a coward.” She whispers brokenly. She’s so close I can feel her breath blowing over my face.
I slam my foot against the ground, and I hear her gasp. “Don’t you dare say that.” I say coolly. “I won’t let anyone insult you. Not even yourself.”
For a moment neither of us says anything. I watch as a single tear runs slowly down her cheek. It’s the best way she could have said thank you.
“What do you think would have happened if we didn’t end up together, back in high school?” She asks me softly, taking a tentative step towards me, closing the distance.
“I would have been living with eyes that worked but had nothing to see.” I answer in a voice as soft as hers. Slowly, she makes her way back into my arms. “Or ears that worked but had nothing to hear. Skin that felt but nothing to touch.” She sighs slightly, laying her head on my shoulder. “A heart that could beat had nothing to live for.”
She sniffs slightly. “Sometimes,” she begins softly against my collarbone. I strain my ears to hear her clearly. “Sometimes I still feel like that girl in high school. The one who didn’t really love herself.”
“I know.” I tell her, as she begins to cry earnestly.
“Especially after Nicholas was killed.” She sobs. I feel a pang as the words TAYLOR LINWICH zooms through my head in big, bold letters. “For a while I felt so ashamed that he died because of what we were.” She shudders. “And there was a moment after the funeral when I couldn’t stop thinking that he wouldn’t have died if one of us had been a guy.”
I feel myself tense slightly. Then I relax and whisper, “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” She disagrees. “I can’t believe I let myself feel ashamed of us because of what happened.” She pulls back slightly, and I see resolve lighting slowly in her expressive, brown eyes. “I hurt you because of it.”
I begin to shake my head, but she presses on.
“It’s true, Brittany. By feeling that shame, by thinking those thoughts, I wasn’t just denying myself self-realization, I was also degrading us. I realize that now.” She clenches her jaw.
“Santana -” I try to interrupt.
“It isn’t enough for me to say that I love you.” She carries on, ignoring me. She looks at me seriously before adding in a calm voice, “I need to tell you now that I love us.”
Her words hit me like a freight train. Tears form in my eyes, and I feel a smile forming across my cheeks. I lean towards her slowly, pressing my lips against her forehead. “I love you.” I whisper against her skin. I feel her tremble slightly. “And I love us, too, so, so much.”
She looks up at me and smiles tenderly. Then she takes a deep breath before saying, “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Yeah.” I reply, my smile fading when TAYLOR LINWICH flashes in my mind again. “There’s something I need to tell you too.”
“Kurt talked to me today about joining the fight against homophobia.” She blurts out.
My mouth opens in a quiet pop and the air feels like it’s been punched out of me. But she isn’t done yet. She grasps both my hands in hers and finishes with,
“And now I realize he’s right. We should.”