fic: Shine (7/?)
Chapter 7: Vulnerable
Brittany cracks her eyes open. Her body is stiff but not in pain. Her mouth still smells and tastes like alcohol and she thinks that she really needs to brush her teeth and change out of her clothes. It takes a minute before she realizes that her body is stiff because the bed is too hard compared to what she was used to.
Slowly, she raises her head and thanks whatever is above the heavens that she doesn't get hangovers. She feels slightly nauseous but Brittany doesn't feel like throwing up. She looks around, forcing her eyes to adjust to the ominous dark. The scent surrounding her hits her before her eyes could register that she is not in her bedroom. The faint smell of strawberry shampoo and a hint of coffee fills her and her heart begins to pump faster just by the mere but comforting mix.
Santana.
Brittany could barely remember how she ended up being warmly tucked in the brunette's bed. It's still dark outside. She glances on the dusty alarm clock on the bedside table. 3:16 am. Feeling the burn of her dry throat, Brittany swings her legs of the bed and slowly pushes herself up to a standing position and waiting for a few moments to stop the waves of nausea. She makes her way out of Santana's room.
"Ma."
Brittany freezes right beside the couch, her mind flashing back to all the horror movies Mike made her watch. The bloody, knife-impaled children, the dolls, the red eyes, and their search for an equally dead or non-existent parent. She whimpers, regretting her decision to get some water to soothe her esophagus.
"No."
This time, she hears the word said a little louder and followed by a choked sob. Betraying her body, Brittany squints through the dark, trying to make out Santana's figure. She peers on the couch and releases a relieved breath when she sees it with no bloody, doll-carrying child. Instead, she follows the mess of blankets and pillows on the floor. The moon and the faint streetlight outside provided her a faint illumination and blue eyes land on Santana sitting with her head on her arms and her back pressed to the wall.
"San?" Brittany calls out reluctantly. Santana gives no indication that she heard her.
"Santana?" She says louder. The worry that fills Brittany propels Brittany to Santana.
"No." She hears the brunette whisper.
"Santana, are you okay? Can you hear me? San?" Brittany cautiously places a hand on the Latina's shoulder. Santana jerks away from her touch, her head shooting up as she presses further into the wall. Her eyes send a pang of panic through Brittany. Santana wasn't looking at her. Brown eyes were glazed over, wide, and horrified. Her mouth is opened in a mute scream.
"Santana!" Brittany almost shouts, not caring about waking up anyone. She knows that Santana is somewhere horrifying. Her eyes tear and suddenly, tears are cascading on Santana's face. It hurts Brittany and she reaches out once again and places a hand on Santana's trembling knee. The brunette tries to get away from the touch but Brittany holds on. This time, Santana opens her mouth to release a gut-wrenching scream.
"NO!"
She's back.
Santana looks up and she chokes on the bile rising in her throat. Half of the house is gone and smoke and fire is everywhere. She's on the ground, her skin burning. She watches the fire, unable to register her situation.
"HELP!" The pain-filled cry snaps Santana. It was her mom. She looks at the body in her arms.
Tiana.
She presses a hand hard against her mouth, letting the tears fall. Wood falls in front of them but Santana barely notices. Fire is still everywhere and she just lost her sister. Painfully, she moves them away from the falling debris until her burnt back presses against the wall and pain shoots through her.
"I'll be right back, T. I'll be back for you." Santana chokes out, pressing the burned body to her, the blood mixing with her own. Back when everything was okay, she remembers bitterly how she used to laugh at the cliché of those movies portraying the disaster caused by fire.
She knows now.
It's no joke. The tears, the pain, the bile, the fear, everything.
"Sa - Santa - Santana. . ." Santana hears her name and the pain behind it.
"Mama…" She says, her eyes squinting through the mess of fire, smoke, wood, and blood. "MA! ARE YOU THERE?" She bellows, her voice desperate. Painfully, physically and emotionally, Santana disengages herself from what used to be her sister. She crawls, dragging her legs and forcing herself to move. She's having trouble breathing and she's losing her vision. "MAMA!" She yells yet again. Pain is constantly hitting her and suddenly, Santana isn't sure how much longer she can hold on. She collapses under her own weight a few feet away from her sister. Her eyes are burning but she squints through everything forcefully.
She sobs when her mother's face swims into view.
Santana can't make out half her face but her mother's dark eyes are unmistakable.
"Mija, I will always love you. Remember that."
"MA! Mama! Thank God. It's okay, we're going to be okay." She gasps for breath and her heart constricts painfully when her mother drags herself over. Santana pushes herself up once again and together they make their way to Tiana. Santana shuts her eyes just as her mother reaches for Tiana's burnt hand.
"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I should have gone back immediately and helped Papi. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"Santana. Stop. This isn't your fault." Her mother says, voice barely above a whisper. Santana opens her eyes to meet her mother's gaze. They're both crying, both cursing, both hoping, both dying.
And it hurts so bad.
It hurts that she lost her sister. It hurts that her father is probably burned to ashes by now. It hurts that it had to be them out of the families in this small fucking town. It hurts that her mama is slowly fading away. It hurts that she's giving up.
"Everybody gets hurt at one point, mija. Pain is terrible and sometimes, when it's really bad, you feel like you're alone. But you have to understand that you never are. Even when I'm not there with you, it doesn't mean that I left you. You have to be strong when something like that happens. Hold on. Live. Mama will always be there for you in a way your boyfriends cannot be. No offense. Okay?"
"Santana."
"Shh, Mama, don't try to talk. We have to do everything we can, yes?" They're both lying on the floor next to Tiana and her mother's eyes are closed. Fear shoots through her core. Tears are falling from her mother's aged face and if she's not strong enough, Santana doesn't know if she can be any stronger than her mom.
She's her idol and her star.
"Mi - Mija…"
"Mama, please. You have to --…" Santana coughs and sucks a breath. "You have to listen to me. Don't fall asleep. Please." Gasp. "I can't do this alone." She whispers. Her mother hears her anyway and she opens her almost lifeless eyes. Santana breaks when her mama smiles through her burnt face.
"Listen to me…" She reaches out for Santana's hand, squeezing it with the little strength she has left.
"Mama… Please… Please…" Santana begs, squeezing back with everything she has left in her.
"You will never be alone."
"No. No. No…"
"We will always be with you."
"Stop. You're not going to die!"
"Be strong, okay?"
"Stop it. Stop. Please."
"For me. For Papi. For Tiana…" Her grip on Santana's hand fades and nothing could ever hurt more than this. "Live for us." Her eyes are fading.
"Mama…"
"We love you. Always…" Tears. Too much tears; so much that Santana for a minute that this isn't real. But the pain hits her hard again and she knows it is.
"I love you too, mama. I love you too."
"That's… my… girl…" Santana watches the life leave her mother's eyes and it is only in this moment that she understands the meaning of pain.
"No. NO!"
Tears. Pain. Death.
"SANTANA. COME BACK." The slap echoes through the house. Quinn is panicking and disheveled having been awakened abruptly by the chaos. Determination is burning in Brittany's blue, clear eyes and even though it hurts her that she just hurt Santana, the blonde knows that she has to pull her back to reality. Brittany grabs her face, forcefully ignoring the print of her own hand on the brown skin. She looks deep within Santana's brown eyes and tears form when she realizes that Santana's looking at her.
"Come back." Brittany says, firmly. There's confusion and panic but Brittany's just glad that Santana's looking at her. "Come back." She whispers, softly. Santana blinks. Once. Twice.
"Mama…" Brittany's heart breaks and she hears Quinn sniffle behind her.
"No, San. Brittany." Her voice wavers but she holds firm. Santana blinks again.
"B…" She rasps out. "Brittany…"
"Hey." She lets out a relieved laugh. "Hi." She engulfs the trembling brunette in her arms, reveling in the warmth currently making its way back to Santana. She feels her curl immediately into her, greedily seeking comfort. The blonde gives her as much as she can.
"B…" The relief is unmistakable. She feels the blistering cold of tears drench through the fabric of her shirt and touches her chest. If Brittany didn't know any better, she would say that the tears soaked through her chest and covered her beating heart. It's painful. It hurts. But she needs to stay strong.
"Let it out, San. I'm here. I got you." Brittany stirs them gently around so it's her back pressed against the wall. Santana's hands fists against her shirt and the tremors increase. She sobs noiselessly, used to breaking down in silence. Quinn watches them and when Brittany looks up a little broken, she gives her a soft, reassuring smile. She places a hand on Brittany's arm which was wrapped around Santana and squeezes. Quinn turns to Santana, running a hand through soft, brown locks.
"It's okay, you're okay." She whispers.
"But they're not. They're not." Santana replies brokenly.
Santana cries herself to sleep and even through unconsciousness, the tears don't stop. Quinn had left them as soon as the sun rose. Brittany knows that she should go too. She needs to go to work. She needs to do groceries. She needs to do a lot of things. But most of all, she needs to stay with Santana. And it overshadows everything she needs to do. She stays. Brittany feels her sleep uneasily, both still on the floor. The pain in her back begins to intensify but she pushes it to the back of her mind, intent on staying where she is than to wake up Santana. She shifts, trying to gain a comfortable position for the both of them. The brunette in her arms stirs a little before she lets out a small whimper and pressing herself tighter to Brittany.
Brittany watches her sleep. She sees the bags beneath her eyes, feel Santana's ribs against her arms. Even in sleep, Santana looks like she's running a marathon. In a way, maybe she is. Dried tear tracts seem to be tattooed to brown skin, her breathing never even.
Brittany knows that Santana's pain is something she will never understand. Pain shoots right through her core as she wonders why of all people to suffer, it had to be Santana. She thinks that someone as beautiful as her doesn't deserve such a cruel fate. The way Santana had called her mother, the gut-wrenching scream, the gallon of tears, the nonstop tremors - everything - it broke her. Santana deserves better. But for her to get a life beyond pain, Brittany understands that Santana needs to let someone help her. Brittany can only do so much to help her. She can only hold her, be the shoulder she needs, the person to drive her live. But Santana needs something more than that. Something a professional can only give.
"We tried. But she's so damn stubborn."
Quinn and Caleb tried. It's her turn to try. Santana might hate her for forcing her. She might get angry and everything. But then again, she might agree and she might be saved. So Brittany will try.
Santana groans and she shifts. Brittany looks down to meet bloodshot, exhausted eyes.
"Hey." She says, a soft smile on her face. Santana blinks before rubbing her eyes.
"Hi." Santana croaks.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like a truck ran over my head… What the fuck are we doing on the floor? My ass hurts like hell." Santana frowns. Brittany rubs her arms soothingly and feels pride bloom in her chest when the brunette looses the frown. Brown eyes turn to look at her, questioning. Then her eyes widen as she surveys their position. She springs and before the blonde realizes it, she's standing up. A wave of nausea hits her and she wobbles. Just as Santana thinks that she's going to hit the floor, strong and pale arms encircles her waist and steadies her and she meets pools of blue, smiling amused at her.
"Whoa, easy there. You okay?" Santana wordlessly grips her arms, letting the nausea ride out. She tries to stand back on her feet again, and when she succeeds, Brittany beams at her like a mother watching her child walk for the first time. Santana feels her face flush and she looks down to try to hide it. She lets go of Brittany's arm and walks a little too fast to the kitchen.
"I hope you don't mind crappy takeout pancakes." Santana says flatly as she reaches in the refrigerator to retrieve the said pancakes. Brittany plops down on the sit on the counter.
"Yum." Brittany smiles at her. Santana looks away.
"Don't you have a job?"
"I do. But I got Mike to cover for me."
"You're staying?"
"You don't sound too happy about it." It was true. Santana sounded worried and if Brittany didn't know any better, she'd say scared. The blonde studies Santana, ducking her head to meet her eyes that seemed to be staring intently at the cereal.
"No! It's not that."
"I can go if you want. I don't want to intrude." Santana doesn't reply.
Brittany staying would really be a big help. But then, she just had to notice the sleeplessness in Brittany's eyes and her disheveled state. She did that. She knows. She couldn't remember much about last night but Santana does remember the part where Brittany gathers her in warm, comforting arms. Damn her for being there.
"Santana? What is it?" She looks up, startled. Brittany's staring at her with confusion. Santana sees the bags under the girl's eyes and she blames herself for it.
"Nothing." She whispers, not trusting her voice to be steady enough.
"Then why won't you look at me?"
"That's exactly what I'm doing!" Santana says exasperated.
"No, San. You're looking at the bags under my eyes. Am I that ugly when I have those?" Santana looks away.
"I don't think it's possible for you to look ugly." She blushes and misses the shy smile adorning Brittany's face.
"Thank you. You're pretty hot yourself." Santana turns into an apple and Brittany laughs at her embarrassment.
"I know. But thanks anyway." Santana tries to amend. They continue to eat their breakfast in comfortable silence and Santana thinks that she wouldn't mind doing this every morning. Then again, last night was terrifying.
She knows what happened. She knows she lost grip of reality and instead unconsciously decided to stay in her personal hell trying to change something. Anything. And she had dragged Brittany into it.
She's not dumb or blind.
She can see the way the blonde seems to be hovering protectively around her as if Brittany's trying to find a way to save her from herself. She can see the desperation and caution in blue eyes. It's the reason why she couldn't look at Brittany directly. It will hurt to know that she had teared a piece of the girl's innocence. She had tainted her happy soul with a dark piece of her. Santana knows that she's genuinely relieved that Brittany's going to stay. But she can't push the thought that she might do something that would pull Brittany to her darkness. It's not right. It's her hell. It's hers. No one else's. No one deserves to be drowned with her own misery.
"Earth to Santana." Brown eyes snap into focus. "You okay?" Santana can hear the worry in her angelic voice and it's almost as if Brittany's scared that she lost the brunette.
"More or less. Why?"
"You were gone for awhile there. Where'd you go?"
"Nowhere. I'm fine."
"You're not. I know." And Brittany says in a way that makes Santana want to curl up into a ball and cry in her self-pity. It makes Santana want to build a wall between her and Brittany. It's as if Brittany can see right through her.
"I'm fine." She says mostly to herself.
"You're not." Brittany drops her fork, finishing up the last bits of her reheated pancake to look at Santana. Fire is burning in her eyes and Santana whimpers inside. "Why won't you go see someone?"
"I don't need anyone." Brittany winces inside at the sound of Santana's cold, guarded voice. Nevertheless, Brittany holds strong on her ground.
"You do."
"Look, Brittany," She puts emphasis on her name and hates it when the girl doesn't even flinch. "Whatever's going on in my damaged head is none of your business."
"Well then, I intend on making it my business." Damn it, she's stubborn.
"Don't. My business won't do you any good. If anything, it might make you the bitch I am today." Santana rises to put their plates to the sink. She feels Brittany's eyes burn a hole at the back of her head.
"I don't care. I'm not leaving you." Santana's heart skips a beat and she almost forgets the reason why this, whatever the hell it is, is not a good idea.
"You should."
"Yeah, I know I should. But I won't. Don't you get it? I'm staying." Brittany insists.
"I'm not going to let you." Santana says icily, tuning around abruptly to face Brittany, her eyebrows scrunched together.
"I didn't ask for your permission. I'm staying because I want to, Santana." She says softly, trying to get through the wall Santana has built around her heart.
"Why? Why do you care so much?" There's a hint of desperation in her voice and Brittany knows. The girl's terrified beyond her wits. She'd rather stay alone than go through losing someone again. And Brittany feels the desire to reassure her. Because she knows that she's not going anywhere.
"I don't know either." She steps into Santana's personal space and reaches out to touch her face. "But I'd like to find out why with you. I know you're scared, San. I don't know how I know though so don't bother asking or denying it. But you have to understand that I'm not going anywhere. I'm always going to be here for you whenever you need someone to catch you. You don't have to be scared of losing me cause you won't. So let me stay. Let me deicde what's good for me. Let me help. Let me be by your side. And for the love ducks San, let me get you some help." Brittany says confidently. She sucks in air, not realizing that she wasn't breathing through her entire speech. She watches emotions pass through Santana's eyes and hopes with everything she has that Santana opens up.
"So let me stay."
The words keep going on repeat in Santana's head and before she knows it, tears are making their way to the corner of her eyes even as she tries to hold them back as hard as she can. Their friendship rests on her now. It's her decision if she'll let her find her way back to living again. If she says no, she'll stay as the miserable bitch she knows she is and Brittany will be safe from her. She won't have to worry about hurting anyone aside from herself.
"Are you sure?" Goddamn it, why is she born as a selfish being? Brittany smiles her bright smile and Santana knows the answer before Brittany can say it.
"More sure than anything I've ever decided. Except when I decided to include weekly visits to the park to feed the ducks." She pulls Santana into an embrace. She feels her relax against her and return the hug. "You'll get help, right?"
"No?" Brittany squeezes her waist painfully tighter. "Ouch! Yeah, okay, alright!" Santana tries to push the blonde off and Brittany laughs at her as soon as she frees herself.
"Yay! Today then. Go get dressed. We have to get you to a drink!"
"Don't you mean shrink?" Santana finds the mistake adorable and lets a smile creep to her face.
"Yeah, that. Darn it, I have to watch more reality TV shows." Santana chuckles.
Brittany's eyes light up. It's nothing new but Santana thinks this might be worth it.
"So let me get this straight. You got her to get help?" Quinn asks in disbelief. She was in the middle of doing paperwork when Brittany called her to tell her the news. "Well I'll be damned. She actually agreed to go to a psychiatrist?"
"Yes, Quinn." Brittany's laughing in delight on the other end of the line and Quinn can't help but let herself release a relieved laugh. "She's in the shower right now. And I was hoping you could help me. I don't really know where to take her so do you know anyone?"
"Uhm. Hold on." Quinn dives into her chaos of a drawer, trying to locate a calling card. "AHA! Okay, here's where you have to go…" Quinn gives Brittany the address and the person they should look for.
"Thanks, Quinn!"
"Thank you, Britt. Take care of her, okay?"
"I will. With everything I have." They hang up and Quinn rests against the headrest of her chair. She sighs. Finally. Finally. She dials the number she's memorized by heart and waits excitedly for Caleb to answer.
"Hello?" Quinn melts. She thinks that she's a real sap.
"Guess what?"
"I love you?" Quinn splutters and she hears Caleb snicker on the other end. Since he had first told her he loves her, Caleb would tell her every chance he would get.
"No."
"But I do!"
"I know!"
"I know you know!"
"I know!"
"See?"
"Okay, as much as I enjoy this - …"
"You do?" Quinn rolls her eyes and Caleb laughs.
"Brittany got Santana to go see someone for help." Quinn says. The other line is silent for awhile and Quinn, being the worrywart she was, worries that Caleb had hung up. "Caleb?" She hears a loud exhale on the other end.
"No shit?"
"Yup."
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"As in?"
"Now you just sound gay. And yes, Caleb. Yes. YES." Quinn insists all the while amused by Caleb disbelief.
"Wow." Caleb says, obviously awed.
"I know right? Brittany seems to be able to touch a part of her we can't. Thank God you brought her to lunch that day." Caleb chuckles, fond of that memory.
"I don't think I've ever seen her smile that much."
"Me too."
"I'm just glad that Brittany's willing to help her fix her fucked up head. And I have you to fix my oh so broken heart."
"Shut up!" Quinn says but Caleb knows she's smiling and they burst out laughing.
"Soon, everything will be fine. Everything will be perfect again." Quinn says and Caleb sighs.
"Finally."
"Now, go get back to work old man!"
"I am so not your dad."
"Argh, shut up. You know what I mean."
"I know. But I'm growing old with you. So I don't mind at all."
"You're making me look like a tomato. Take care, Caleb." Caleb laughs heartily.
"Yeah. You too."
Someday, Quinn thinks, someday, when she gets over the commitment issues and doubt, she'll tell him just how much she loves him back.
"Good morning, I'm Mercedes Jones. And I'm going to be your psychiatrist for who knows how long." The woman named Mercedes tells her and Santana instantly hates the fact that she agreed to this.
"Yeah I know, your nameplate outside kind of told me that already. Santana Lopez. Quinn Fabray recommended you to us." Mercedes raises an eyebrow at the grumpy Santana who's currently lounging on one of the couches. Quinn had indeed warned her about the brunette's attitude and at first, when she saw Santana blush and smile softly at the blonde girl who dropped her off, she thought Quinn was just exaggerating. Now she knows that Quinn may be understating the description.
"Let's start?"
"Whatever."
"Why do you think you're here?" Santana opens her eyes, staring at ceiling.
"I don't know. Maybe because my ass got dragged here by an insanely beautiful girl." Mercedes would have laughed if it weren't for the glare Santana 's sending her.
"Okay. So, why don't you tell me how you feel?" Mercedes thinks that this is going to be hard as she watches Santana close her eyes.
"Look, why don't we just pretend that we talked so I can tell Brittany that and I don't have to waste your time and you don't have to waste mine?"
"No can do. Come on now, I'm trying to help you here." Santana doesn't respond for long minutes. Okay, she thinks, nice isn't going to break her. "Look, you're a bitch. I've been told." Santana looks at her, an eyebrow raised.
"Well, you're a bitch too, anyone ever tell you that?"
"Yeah, I know I'm a bitch."
"So you're not that naive after all." Mercedes sits up straighter, staring the brunette down and competing with the glare.
"I'm bitch, Santana. But I know when to put my pride down and let someone like, oh I don't know, a psychiatrist like me, to help."
"I don't need help." But Santana looks away and walks to the door and Mercedes knows that she does.
"Oh yes you do. So sit your skinny ass back down before I drag you back myself." Santana pauses and she sighs and gives the dark woman the scariest glare she's ever given anyone before sitting back down.
"Let's start again, shall we? What are you feeling right now?"
"I feel like I want to rip your head off so I can go and enjoy my life without having to worry about you trying to push your way inside my head." Mercedes shakes her head.
"Santana. Miss Lopez, you know what the very first step is to recover from your kind of pain? It's to accept that you need help. It's to know what exactly you're feeling and what's holding you back. Then, and only then, will you be able to talk about whatever it is that got you this messed up and finally, when you're able to face each of your fears, you'll be able to move on. So, let me ask you this. Do you think you need help?" Santana looks away, staring at the view behind Mercedes, an empty look in her eyes.
"Do you really believe that I'll get better? That the pain will stop? That I'll be able to live a life?" There's a note of bitterness in her tone and Mercedes breathes in relief inside. She's cracking. It's small but it's there.
"It depends. Do you?"
"I don't know." Santana says quietly. "I don't know what I feel. I just know that I'm not okay. As a matter of fact, I'm far from okay." There she said it. She feels the hopelessness of her situation creep up to her and Santana instantly feels drained.
"I see. Well, first, you need to tame down the bitch inside you and try to talk to me in a normal manner without trying to kill me with your eyes. Can you do that?" Santana shrugs.
"And then, you need to let people in, Santana. Okay maybe not too many people. It can be just one person. You have to admit to that person that you're weak right now and that you need someone to help you up. Being able to admit such a thing will make it easier for you to move on. Being able to admit it to another person enables you to put down the load of carrying locked emotions down. Right now, you don't what you're feeling exactly. That's because you've got everything locked up and chained. And you have to find a way to release what you've been holding back because all of it: the pain, the grief, the loneliness is what's keeping you rooted to that miserable spot you're in. Do you understand?"
"I'm damaged not dumb." Mercedes pins her with a pointed stare. "Yes, I understand."
"Good."
"Can I go now?"
"Next week, I expect you to be able to tell me something." Santana stands up.
"Yeah, yeah." She walks to the door and just before she turns the door handle, she glances back to Mercedes. "Thank you." She whispers and then she's out the door. Mercedes sighs and she finds herself hoping that Santana will be strong enough to be vulnerable.
That night, Santana lies in the darkness of her room, trying to find answers to her millions of questions. Quinn had come home an hour ago and had tried to talk to her. Instead, she dismissed herself telling hr blonde friend that she's tired and that she's going to turn in. Quinn knows better than to prod so she lets her but not before a comforting hug for which she was grateful of. Brittany's been texting her, trying to find out if she's okay.
"I'm not." Santana says out loud to the darkness. Silence answers her back and Santana feels a sudden wight press down on her. "I'm not."
She's not okay. She's in pain. She's grieving. She misses her family.
Santana grabs her phone, the light of it momentarily blinding her. She scrolls to Brittany's name. All she needs to do is press call. Just press call. It becomes a hard task and she stares at the name and number until the light goes off. Santana doesn't even know what she wants to tell her. She presses some other button and soon she's staring at Brittany's name again.
Brittany who was there to bring her back from hell. Brittany who was able to get her to agree on something she never thought she would ever agree on. Brittany who wants to stay. Brittany.
Her heart pounds uncontrollably, her mind suddenly filling with images of Brittany, her ears replaying the sound of Brittany's laugh. The number on her phone screen is looking at her expectantly. Or at least she thinks it is.
Santana taps the green phone. Brittany picks up on the second ring.
"Oh my God, Santana! Hi! Are you okay? Did you get my messages?" Her voice sounds worried and relieved at the same time and Santana feels elated. She knows what she wants to say now. She knows that if she needs to tell someone, be vulnerable to someone, it would be to Brittany.
"Sing to me." She requests silently, her voice hoarse and shaky. Brittany picks up the weak tone of her voice and without hesitation, she's grabbing clothes and showing them to a bag and locking her apartment door and is on her way to Quinn and Santana's.
People would ask her to dance. People would ask her to go on a date with them. People would ask her to take a job. But for the first time in her life, someone's asking her to sing. She knows that Santana's vulnerable right now and everything will be decided on how she will answer.
Santana's scared. She's open. She's actually fucking open. She's weak. And she's trying to let someone in. So she's scared that Brittany might turn a blind eye or a hard back. She's so afraid that she grips the phone hard.
"What do you want me to sing?" Brittany sounds out of breath but it's enough for Santana.
"Anything."
"Give me a second." Santana would give her a lifetime. She hears nothing but breathing on the other end but pretty soon, Brittany's humming a tune.
When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
Santana's heart skips a beat. Her voice. Brittany's voice.
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Brittany's thankful that she remembers the lyrics of the song fully. She breaks a little when she hears a sniff on the other end. She moves faster.
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
She's going to try. Santana feels at peace. Her eyes are dropping, tired from all the tears and glares. Tired from searching.
Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I
Quinn raises an eyebrow as soon as she opens the door to find Brittany singing. Brittany in turn, makes a shushing sign, pointing to the phone and to the way to Santana's bedroom. Understanding dawns in Quinn and she smiles softly before letting Brittany in.
Santana's already asleep by the time Brittany reaches her room, the phone pressed against her ear. Brittany moves quietly, not once stopping from singing. She removes her shoes and as quietly and as gently as she can, she climbs in beside Santana.
Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I
Brittany removes the phone from Santana's soft grip and puts it beside hers on the bedside table. Santana stirs a little before her hands finds the front of Brittany's shirt and gripping it. Brittany folds her body to fit the brunette's curling an arm around her and pulling her closer.
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
As the song closes, Santana curls into her and Brittany smiles softly. She will stay. Looking at Santana's face, marred by pain and sorrow, Brittany knows that she'd spend even the rest of her life ready to catch Santana when she falls.
Unconsciously, Brittany gives her heart to Santana. She gives her entire life to Santana. She's hers now. Hers. Santana's.
"Sweet dreams." Brittany whispers to her ear before letting the pull of sleep take her.