fic: ignoring the signs; glee; brittany/santana; R

Mar 29, 2010 19:43


Title: ignoring the signs
Author: yesssirrr
Characters/Pairings: brittany/santana
Rating: R just to be safe
Length: 1,746 
Spoiler: none
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or people. No copyright infringement intended. I JUST WANT TO WRITE ABOUT THEM.
Summary: Santana's eyes remind Brittany of mud; all Santana sees is the ocean.
Author's Note: Written for the glee_angst_meme prompt "Blue eyes say love me or I die. Brown eyes say love me or I kill you." I took a more poetic approach to the prompt, so no one dies. You're welcome.
Author's Note II: But it is angst, so yay, angst!

;;

You’ll be the death of her.

You’ll be the one that pierces her heart over and over again until she bleeds out.

You’re lethal to her health, but fuck it, you’ll let the blood dry in your hands.

--

You were certain you knew better.

You were sure you weren’t perfect for each other. You were mismatched in every way that mattered. You looked good together, everyone said so. But everyone didn’t matter; was just a bunch of stupid fools that didn’t know any better.

The two of you wanted too much of different things. And none of it added up to anything good. She didn’t have a purpose for it; she just wanted to have fun. You had your reasons; you needed an escape.

So you started something that wouldn’t last.

--

She looked into your eyes and said she liked mud like that was a compliment. You wanted to feel insulted but you looked back at her and you got distracted; too busy falling for the ocean. You should’ve paid more attention. You didn’t think anything of it before, but that falling - you were actually drowning.

That was the first sign, but that was also the first escape.

So you just let it, like an idiot.

--

She didn’t stop you when you reached over and held her hand. You didn’t stop her when she leaned over and kissed you on the cheek. The same stupid fools didn’t think anything of it, so you pushed each other’s boundaries. A lingering hand on the thigh, a far too intimate hug - you were besting each other.

You became her enabler, she became yours.

Then it became a game. An amazing thrill that left you wanting more and more and more. It was what you craved and you were so excited that she was giving you what you wanted. You should have been suspicious that she was giving you everything that you wanted from her. But this wasn’t supposed to be anything worth troubling yourself over. So you let her do what got her off and you let yourself benefit from it.

There was the second sign, when the two of you were competing for the wrong prizes. She wanted something tangible, you wanted the high.

You were winning, so you just let it, like an idiot.

--

You let her hold you at night after you two fucked. Like you were awarding her the privilege of being in control, just this once. You let her think she had that control when really, you were the ones with all the pieces, the board, and the moves. She seemed more than grateful for it, because before you both went to sleep afterwards she held you close and kissed your shoulder so gently, you wondered if she even kissed you at all.

The fast, hard fucking turned into slower, softer sex.

That wasn’t part of the plan. So in a split-second decision, you stripped away her privileges.

You fought the settled panic in the pit of your taut stomach, roughly pushing her up against a wall trying to prove that this was nothing more than just passing whims of a couple of teenagers in nowhere, America.

You succeeded, for a while, because she didn’t hold you anymore. Even skipped the soft kisses on your shoulder as her way of wishing you goodnight. You were the one in control again.

Soon enough, she stopped holding you altogether and left immediately after you fucked each other until you were both ready to collapse. That’s what was left.

One time, you asked what the hurry was and she shrugged helplessly, told you there was no reason to stay. You never corrected her, just slumped back on your pillow, refusing to inhale the scent of her sex and shampoo around you. You’d rather suffocate in your denial than own up to anything.

Sex isn’t dating became her mantra more than yours, and you wondered who she was reminding, you or her.

That was the third sign, when the high you craved for felt more like a burden on your shoulders, as you dug deeper and deeper.

You convinced yourself there was something at the end of your shovel, so you just let it, like an idiot.

--

She pretended to stay the same carefree girl that you remembered when this destruction started. But she cared - about you, about the two of you. And she crept under your skin, unraveling what you were before her and replacing it with what you were with her. She did all of it when you were too busy ignoring signs. It transformed into heaps of feelings you didn’t want, didn’t intend to have.

Everyone else was deceived, like the stupid fools that they were, unaware that the girl they thought they knew, they didn’t know at all. She was still all smiles and they fawned over her.

But you knew differently because her eyes were darker. There wasn’t the usual sparkle in that ocean. She played along though, because that was the game, and she may not be playing for keeps anymore - not when you changed the rules on her without warning - but she didn’t quit, wouldn’t.

She still fucked you hard, which was what you wanted all along, and the hurt was good once. But now it wasn’t even your wracked body that was exhausted. It was that weak organ in your chest that couldn’t hold it together.

You two weren’t supposed to work; all the wrong pieces, not the right intentions. This was meant to be nothing. Instead, it dissolved you into nothing else.

That was the fourth sign, when you yourself started feeling.

You rejected the mere idea that this escape would cage you in, so you just let it, like an idiot.

--

She told you she was done, that she couldn’t take it anymore. It was on a completely harmless Thursday afternoon that would’ve been perfect to relish in one another’s dirty secrets.

A lifetime ago, you would have called her pathetic for being weak. But deep down, stained with the dirt from all that digging, you had the same sentiment. You were just far too stubborn to voice it out.

Instead, you crossed your arms, leaned on the lockers and told her to go, that it was her loss. You pretended not to care, so you looked at your hands instead of her eyes. You were the bad guy, so you didn’t look at your victim, just the sins marred in your palms.

She walked up to you, with every bit of courage that you admired and she slapped you with all the pain that you caused. Pettily, you mocked her with your smirk even as your cheek burned from the last touch she would ever give you.

She talked about mud like it was a compliment to you. You were insulted to be compared to something so filthy.

She shook her head and told you that she thought you were something different, like the mud that caked your exterior was really just to make way for something softer, better, lovely. But instead, all you amounted to was nothing but dirt and grime and filth.

When the locker room door shut with a resounding thud, you held your cheek and you closed your eyes, transporting yourself back to a time before this mess flooded your lives.

That was the fifth sign, when you knew that you were no better than the dirt and grime and filth that you walked on.

The heartbreak was so palpable, it engulfed you. So you just let it, like an idiot.

--

You cried until your body ran completely dry, suffering in a drought. You continued to break down locked behind the discomfort of your loneliness. The damage was done and you became an ugly, empty desert with nothing but remnants of what was once beautiful. Not even your delusions could save you.

She walked around the school like nothing ever happened and you thought lamely how she should become an actress - you almost believed her performance.

How something so inconsequential ruin your life was beyond you. It was a foolproof plan - all of the fun and none of the baggage - but you never took into account that she’d find you worth loving; you would love her back.

Your bitterness and resentment exploded. You expected it, but didn’t think it would be this way. You wreaked havoc against everyone and they didn’t know how to deal with you, stupid fools that they were, but she knew better. While the world was at your mercy you were at hers.

You’d be bitter and resentful all over again. It became cyclic - no progress or direction, just a continuous outburst of things that kept crushing the already weak organ in your chest.

You didn’t know when you figured it out, but you’d had enough and it was time for some salvation. So you took it back to the games you played. But at this go round, you gave her the ball, the home advantage when you knocked on her door and tiredly professed your stupidity.

She looked at you with weariness in her eyes, and you expected it. But you didn’t promise anything you couldn’t deliver. You promised tonight because that was all you had.

She looked at you and you dreaded your possible execution; time disregarding your feelings as each second passed unhurriedly even though you’d already gone without her for so long.

Her features gradually softened and you rejoiced when you saw a ghost of a smile pass her lips. You believed in another life just because of it.

It was a start and you didn’t know if it would last. Bu you were doing good so far, you could almost promise her tomorrow, too.

The sparkle in her eyes returned and that was the sign you couldn’t ignore even if you tried, when her ocean replenished your emptiness and washed you clean.

It was dangerous and you knew it, because she could drown you.

And you’d let her, because you were a fucking idiot.

You didn’t care enough to wise up.

--

She’ll be the death of you.

She’ll be the one that pierces your heart over and over again until you bleed out.

She’s lethal to your health, but fuck it, you’ll die by her hands.

glee, pairing: brittany/santana, fic, monday

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