Prompt #9: Santana fucking Lopez was not going to write a stupid-ass essay about love.
Valentine'd Day 2011 was the day Will Schuester grew up. He'd had it with all the fighting and bickering in glee club. True, he knew what none of it was about, but still…they were supposed to be a family. He'd set them an assignment—to write a page or more on the last time they felt real love. He was expecting the bare minimum from Puck—a page on something highly inappropriate. From Mike and Tina, five or so pages chronicling their glorious Asian love and their families. From Finn he expected (and got) exactly two pages bemoaning how much he loved Rachel and wanted her back.
What he was not expecting was Santana's response.
I almost lied for this essay, Mr. Schue. But then I realized that it would do me no good to lie, and it would do you a world of good to hear the truth. I figure you're used to me being blunt, so here goes: You're a fucking idiot sometimes.
Don't get me wrong, Mr. Schue, I love you to death. Glee club? What we do and how you see the best in us when we can't see it ourselves? It's the best part of my day. Now let me tell you why I'm so upset with you, and maybe you'll understand my epic rudeness. Fair warning: this won't be a page long. You're lucky I'm even handing it in. The assignment you gave us was to describe the last time we felt real love. You said, "Write about your girlfriend or boyfriend. Write about your family. I don't care. But I want it turned in tomorrow." That's highly presumptuous. (See? I can use big words too. Berry must be rubbing off on me.) See, some of us don't have glorious Asian love, or on again-off again high school romances. Some of us have "friends with benefits" or "sometimes girlfriends" and that's all we can seem to manage. Some of us can't even use the "Forever alone—but at least I have my family" fallback. Not everyone has Mr. and Mr. Berry to bake them vegan cookies and teach them Broadway hits. Or Mrs. Hummel to be totally chill when their son knocks up the president of the Chastity Circle. Here's how it works in my house: if you want attention, fuck up. If you fuck up, you get bailed out once, and then kicked out. Otherwise, there's nothing but a weekly statement from the bank saying one of the adults who shares your last name put some money into your account.
But back to your question. The last time I felt real love was exactly an hour ago, immediately after you gave us this stupid assignment. I walked out without saying a word because I didn't want to break down like a mental case in front of everyone. I left because I didn't have an answer to your question. And my girlfriend, being awesome and perceptive like that, followed me. I cried on her shoulder for about ten minutes before I pulled myself together. So to amend your assignment task…the first time I experienced real love was when I realized I love Rachel Berry.
Will sat back, mouth open. He had been writing notes back to the kids on their papers, but now he didn't know what to say or think. Resolving to talk to Santana privately tomorrow, he put her paper on the top of the stack and reached for Rachel's. His face turned white, and he stopped reading after
Santana Lopez is a cheerleader, member of glee, and my girlfriend. The last time I felt real love was when she dragged me into the Cheerios' private bathroom before class and….