didn't i, my dear?
It was not your fault but mine,
And it was your heart on the line.
I really fucked it up this time,
Didn't I, my dear?
-Little Lion Man by Mumford & Sons
Notes: Follow me on tumblr for more fic and updates (imatrisarahtops).
Santana heard the alarm clock going off, and groaned in her sleep.
"Brittany," she murmured, yanking her covers over her head, her voice still thick with sleep. "Turn it off."
After another few moments of the clock blaring in the silence, threw the covers back off. "Brittany," she repeated, throwing her arm to the other girl's side of the mattress. "I said—"
She broke off, realising that the side of the bed was empty.
A sudden sadness washed over her, and her stomach tightened. Right, she thought to herself. Of course. She listlessly threw her blankets off, crawling to the other side of the bed and picking up the digital clock in her hands (digital, she remembered, because Brittany couldn't read analog), pressing the button on top of it to stop the alarm.
Santana regretted it the moment she had, the quiet ringing through the room, sad and empty. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, setting the alarm clock back onto the floor. It wasn't as though she'd expected something different, was it? Maybe she'd found herself half-hoping that Brittany would simply return in the middle of the night, back to their bed, and everything would be back to normal. Maybe, but she didn't actually think it would happen.
Not this time. Not after the things she'd done and said. Not after hurting her again and again, from the time that they were teenagers. They were adults, now. Still in school but adults. Shouldn't that mean they were finished with all the pettiness?
Maybe not. Maybe it would never change.
But Santana found herself hoping, for Brittany's sake, that they might. That she might, so she could be the person that Brittany deserved.
She shook her head, pulling herself up off the mattress they'd laid on the floor, until they could afford a bed frame, one they bought together (and now it sat there, empty and cold, like a broken promise because Santana wasn't sure that would ever happen, now).
It had been three days. Three days, and Santana could hardly remember what that fight had even been about, anymore. If she couldn't even remember, how important could it have been?
Important enough for Brittany to walk away, she reminded herself, and her stomach twisted painfully.
She'd tried calling. After the first day and a half, she'd swallowed her pride and held down the plastic number '1' on her phone, speed-dialing Brittany. However, she heard the familiar ringtone playing, and noticed that it was hidden in the refridgerator (which didn't surprise Santana as much as it saddened her immensely, though she did hope that at least Brittany would return when she realised she left her phone behind.)
After that, she'd called Kurt. She hadn't realised she had been dialing his number until he answered his phone.
She explained what happened, and to her relief, he didn't seem angry (he always had been more fond of Brittany, she knew, but she didn't know where else to turn).
Instead, he admitted that she'd met him and Blaine for coffee.
Santana's heart ached, wanting to know how she was and where she was and if she was hurting or if she'd moved on.
But Santana supposed that she'd grown up a little because all she asked was, "Is she okay?"
"Yeah," Kurt responded. "She's all right."
Santana breathed a sigh of relief before bidding Kurt a hasty goodbye and ending the call. She stared at the screen as it flashed the length of the call at her, not sure what she was waiting for (but maybe it was for some sort of sign that Brittany still loved her and might come back).
When evening finally came again, Santana crawled back under the covers. She wasn't feeling tired, but she she was half-hoping that the mattress might come to life and devour her whole (it would be an interesting story that she thought Brittany would appreciate).
There was a knock on the door, and she pulled her blankets over her head, willing the knocking to stop. However, it did not, so she once again dragged herself out of bed and opened the door.
She quickly wondered if she was seeing things, because this was obviously a dream. All the same, the apologies tumbled out of her mouth immediately, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
Brittany smiled softly at her. "I'm sorry too," she said. "I wanted to come home sooner, but I got a little lost."
Santana quickly took the blond in her arms, laughing and smiling and crying a little bit too because it didn't matter anymore, her Brittany was home.