Stronger Than This (9.5/11) Brittany: Prom (Part 2)
Title: Stronger than This. (9.5/?) Brittany: Prom (Part 2)
Pairing: Santana/Brittany; Santana/Puck bromance
Rating: R (For Language)
Summary: Brittany’s POV a month after “Sexy”. This fic starts with some pent up Santana angst and builds to battle royal at prom. This chapter is awesome, if I do say so myself. J
Spoilers: Season 2: Sexy
Chapt 1: Santana - Chapt 2: Artie - Chapt 3:Puck - Chapt 4: Rachel -
Chapt 5:Finn - Chapt 6: Santana - Chapt 7: Kurt - Chapt 8: Quinn
Chapt 9: Brittany (Part 1) - (Part 2) -
Chapter 9
Brittany: Prom (Part 2)
Standing beside Santana, I see Karofsky immediately notice Kurt and Blaine on the dance floor. Even from across the room, I can see him tighten his fists before Santana snatches his arm and pulls him back to his place again. “Don’t!” is all she has to say shooting him a fiery warning look. Karofsky temporarily backs down.
Santana hasn’t seen me yet.
I hug Artie as the song ends and step from his wheel chair into a light on the dance floor. “I see Santana,” I say pointing him in their direction. Artie waves at our remaining friends. Catching his wave, Santana’s eyes follow Artie and find me.
Under the light, I feel my eyes sparkle. … Hi
Beside me, Quinn comes quickly ushering us away and waving Santana toward the back of the mini stage. “We’re first.” She says nervously. “We should get ready.” She’s excited; I’m excited; it’s all exciting.
Quinn and I gather together backstage first. As the band prepares for our song, Santana shortly joins us. Standing beside her now, I feel static and gravity between us. I want to tell her that she looks beautiful… friends can give compliments, right? But I can’t seem to form the words. It’s aggravating, everything I can think of to say sounds tacky and gauche.
Sensing my frustration, Santana reaches out and touches my side. When I look, she gives a quick, friendly wink. I instantly feel better.
Despite several football players booing, Quinn’s number goes really well. It was actually a lot of fun, even. Next, the crowd swells as Finn performs “Every Breath You Take,” by the Police. Nearly every girl in the audience swoons at his bravado and oaf-like movements. I don’t get the appeal. Rachel even faints into Sam’s arms. Mercedes is next and brings down the house with “I will Always Love You,” by Whitney Houston. She hits the long run at the end with absolute perfection. Following her seemed like my worst nightmare, I nearly run away, until Rachel shows up beside me.
“You got this,” she coaches, rubbing my arm. “Don’t forget to hold the F key through all three of the notes in the chorus.” I nod. Instead of being a comfort, Rachel’s intense encouragement petrifies me. The audience gasps again at Mercedes’ range. Maybe I couldn’t do this. Standing alone on stage without dancing, with only my voice to carry me! It was suddenly harder than it seemed. How did everyone else do this?
I scan the crowd for familiar faces. Artie sits with Mike and Tina at a round table beside the stage. Sam and Puck stand by the punch bowl. Kurt and Blaine haven’t moved from the dance floor. Quinn and Finn continue petitioning for votes, by the booths. Santana sits alone. She looks unsure and confused: lost in deep thought. “I can’t do this.”
Stepping before me, Rachel gathers my attention back to her. Her large brown eyes hold me. “Brittany.” She’s serious now, “You can do this. We’ve practiced and practiced. You have this.” Her voice is warm and tastes like caramel milk duds. As big as a pain in the ass Rachel could be, I know she is right… Nerves flaying, I step onto the stage.
The crowd is still applauding for Mercedes when my music softly starts. Christina Aguilera’s song plays from the black, grand piano beside me. Large set lights swing to the center of the stage where I stand alone before the microphone. I toss a smile at Artie, who nods at me, and then with careful precision, I focus on Santana. Draped in deep purple, she shifts in her seat uncomfortably, but watches. Before I start to sing, I hope she’s remembered.
I take a breath.
Every day is so wonderful,
And suddenly it’s hard to breathe
Now and then we get insecure
From all the pain, and feel so ashamed.
My voice starts softly through the first verse, in certain moments I close my eyes focusing on the delicacy of each note. Opening my eyes again, I make eye contact with Santana, who’s now standing and making slow steps toward the stage. I sing each word in the following verse keeping eye contact with her.
You are beautiful, no matter what they say
Words can’t bring you down
You are beautiful, in every single way
Yes, Words can’t bring you down
So don’t you bring you down, today.
Walking toward me, her eyes are glistening now. She may always just be my best friend, and nothing more, but I sing from every space of emptiness in me that her affection used to fill. Reaching the dance floor, Kurt takes her hand. I sing to the both of them, to me, to every lonely soul in the room.
You are beautiful, no matter what they say
Words can’t bring you down
You are beautiful, in every single way
Yes, Words can’t bring you down
So don’t you bring you down, today.
I seem to hit the runs and stay in pitch. As planned, Rachel’s voice echoes behind me through the next section.
No matter what we do
(No matter what we do)
No matter what we say
(No matter what we say)
And everywhere we go
(Everywhere we go)
The sun will always shine
(Sun will always, always shine)
We are beautiful no matter what they say
(Words can’t bring us down)
We are beautiful in every single way
(Words can’t bring us down)
So don’t you bring us down today.
I delicately carry the last note a moment before letting it float away. At some point, I had closed my eyes again, because as the song ends, I find myself opening them to a quiet room. Kurt, Blaine, Tina, and Santana stand before me with their eyes wide. Quinn’s hands folds to her mouth. Finn stands gap mouthed.
It is my sweet Artie, in the back of the room, who begins the clapping. The rest of the room shortly follows as Rachel steps from behind me and touches my shoulder. “Wow!” is all she has to say.
I search the room again for Santana. She’s clapping now and shaking her head, diva style. When we make eye contact again she mouths me a silent, ‘Thank you.’ Tears still glisten from her dark eyes. As sweet as a moment it is… it is bitter too; it’s the last thing I can give her. It’s my good bye.
***