Title: White Blank Page
Pairing: Naya Rivera/Heather Morris
Summary: Later though, when she's lying in bed; with Heather tucked into the crook of her neck, breathing soundly and hugging her body tighter; she'll remember that this is all they'll ever get.
Disclaimer: I don't know either of these two, unfortunately.
Word Count: just above 2k
Author's Note: Had some major angsty feelings and they always come in the form of HeYa. Anyway, this song is based off Mumford & Son's White Blank Page. Give it a listen whilst you read this, it intensifies the feeling!
They both knew this... thing between them was coming to an end.
But neither of them really expected it to happen so suddenly.
They'd been doing it for months. Years, even. And up until now it had been an unspoken thing that both just enjoyed and never thought about. Even when she was with Mark, or Matt, or Chord... It was just there, and undeniable.
It started off with a drunken "can I have a cuddle?" at Heather's house after a night of drinking.
It started with Naya opening her arms, and allowing Heather to tuck her head into the crook of her neck and wrap her up in those strong arms, toned from years of dancing.
It started with "kiss goodnight?" that eventually transformed into a "kiss hello?" and "kiss for being you?"and so on until the question was no longer needed. Just a simple glance and then their lips were pressed together. That was it.
Even with the years and months to come, it never strayed much further than kisses and simple strokes of the hand. Just feelings, emotions and words neither could verbalize coming out through basic brushes of the lips.
One moment they were tangled up so intimately, lips trading slow, lazy kisses and fingers brushing back stray locks of hair on Naya's couch; and the next, Heather's phone was buzzing and she was on the phone to him, promising to be home by midnight and crushing Naya's heart with the weight of her words.
"No, honestly Tay, I'm just at the grocery store."
Naya ducks her head, gasping back the tears as the heat of them prick at her eyelids.
"Yeah, just picking up some, um," Heather looks around the room, settling on an unopened bottle of red wine on the coffee table. "Wine. Just picking up some wine and then I'll be home."
Feeling something heavy and cold drop inside her stomach, Naya clutches her t-shirt and pushes from the sofa, wavering when her head dizzies with images of her and him together. She shuts her eyes against them, desperately wishing them to go away. They don't, though. All they do is intensify, and multiple into a movie montage that repeats on an unbreakable loop inside her brain.
It's like a nightmare she can't wake up from.
Heather eyes her warily, the corners of her mouth dropping and fair eyebrows pulling together in concern. "I've gotta go. I'll be back soon."
The sound of a phone snapping closed amplifies through Naya's ears as she teeters on the brink of blacking out. Heather's going back to him. Back to their house. Back to their stupid fucking dog and perfect little life.
God, she's so envious. Envious that after everything they've been through, after everything she's done for Heather, he still gets her at the end of the day. He still gets to wrap his arms around her, pull her into him and nuzzle into her hair with the knowledge that they're meant to be together.
Naya shakes her head, licking her lips and tasting the salt from tears she didn't know were there. "No, Heather..." she breathes out, feeling her chest constrict and heart seize. "Don't," she squeezes her eyes tighter. "Please. Just go. "
"No," Naya spits out, clenching her jaw against the pain that echoes through her body. "Don't'Naya, please' me. Just..." she swallows against a thickening throat. "Just go..."
"Why are you acting like this?" Heather asks in that innocent voice that makes Naya's veins spike with anger.
Naya stumbles her way around the sofa when the atmosphere around her warms with the other woman's presence. She can't take the close proximity. Not if she's going to get through this.
Her eyes drift upwards until they lock with blue, glossing with unshed tears. That's not fair. Heather shouldn't be the one on the brink of tears. Heather shouldn't be the one staring at her like she's a kicked puppy. How is this fair? Now Naya feels guilty?
"I can't-" the words catch in her throat; almost like a blockade that's asking do you really want to do this? Because she knows what this means. If she finishes this sentence, this means that everything will stop.
The sensual touches that never strayed too far.
The adoring gazes that were similar to those traded between two soul mates.
The soft, slow kisses that would never and will never compare to any other.
Oh, the kisses.
All of it... It'll all vanish. Leaving nothing but the cloud of smoke of their whateveritis-ship behind.
But she manages to finish anyway. She has too. "I can't do this."
Heather tilts her head to the side, half-confused but half-aware of what was just said. Almost like she's seeking confirmation, the taller girl steps forward, offering out her palms and breathing heavy and ragged; like the time when they watchedFriday The 13th.
"You don't mean that..." she whispers, brokenly; her blue eyes pleading and begging.
But Naya stays strong, feeling pain curl around her throat and tears continuously pour out her eyes like a waterfall. "I can't..." she closes her eyes and repeats the words that strain at her heart. "I can't do this anymore."
"Tell me you love me," Naya cuts in, her words buckling and falling to her knees to beg instead of her. "Tell me you love me more than him."
They both stand there, staring at each other and conveying volumes that no amount of words could. The deafening silence rings through their ears and even though there's barely two meters between them...
It seems like so much more.
A single tear escapes Heather's eye, but as quickly as it forms, it's wiped away with slender fingers. "You know I love you..."
"Then be with me," Naya takes a step forward; feeling like the world just crumbled around her and now she's standing on a precipice, waiting for the inevitable fall and impending doom. "Be with me," she whispers, pleading with her words and eyes.
"...You also know we can't be together."
The words are like a bullet to the glass of Naya's heart. She feels herself shatter. Crumble into a million tiny pieces. Irreparable even to the trained hand and skilled eye. Arms wrap around her, bringing her into a tight embrace she can't fight. She can't do it. She can't do this. She can't go everyday with seeing the one face that makes her happier and sadder than she can possibly be. She just can't.
How is she supposed too when it breaks her heart?
Hands cup her cheeks, lifting her face until irresistibly soft lips are skimming across her cheeks... Her nose... Her chin... And finally brushing across her own lips with a tenderness and ease that no amount of years could perfect.
This is the kind of kiss that only two lovers; two soul mates; two people who are meant to be can trade. She can taste broken hearts, wishes and unspoken words in this kiss. It's slow; but frantic. It's heart-breaking; but pleasurable. It's perfect in every way possible; but terrible in so many other ways.
It's everything Naya wants, but everything she can't have. But that's just her life, isn't it?
"No," she mumbles angrily against Heather's lips, pushing out the other woman's embrace and staggering back until her back hits the far wall. "No, Heather."
Heather jerks her head back, the tears now falling freely as her eyes squint as if she's trying to understand. Her hands are still hovering in the air, and lips slightly swollen from their kiss. Naya shuts her eyes to block the image.
"No," she repeats, shaking her head and bracing her palms against the wall behind her. "You can't just do that," she clenches her fists. "You can't just kiss me and hope everything goes away," her eyes flicker up to lock with blue. "It doesn't work like that, Heather."
"Then how does it work, Naya?" Heather spits back with more aggression than Naya was prepared for. "How do you want it to work? You want me to be with you?" She moves forward with each of her words; "You want me to break up with Taylor, break his heart and just come running back to you? Hoping everything will work out? That everyone will accept us and everything will be fine and fucking dandy?"
The silence kicks in again as Heather breathes out the sentence, stopping an inch away from Naya, but not so far that their fingers don't brush and tips of their noses touch. Brown eyes flicker between blue, seeing fear, anger, worry, hurt, regret... Everything negative and painful.
She can see the finality flickering in blue eyes. She can see the reflection of the same flickering in her own and lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Heather's breath is hot on her face, blanketing her cheeks and curving around the bone of her brow. She can feel the heat radiating off the other woman, sinking through her clothes and melting onto her skin like molten lava; burning her and singeing her skin. But there's nothing she can do about it.
Her eyes trace the outline of Heather's face. Over her lips, around the bridge of her nose and up towards the corners of her cat-like eyes. Something flutters inside of her and when she returns to staring into pools of blue, she sees the intent lingering beneath them and something snaps inside of her; like a rubber band that's been stretched for too long.
The stiffness of Heather's muscles relax as they breathe together; chests rising and falling so when Naya inhales, Heather exhales and they swallow each other like they'll never be able to get enough.
Heather lifts her hands, letting both palms gently cup Naya's cheeks as her feet move closer until their fronts brush. Sparks shoot from inside of Naya's hearts at the warmth curdling around her body, and her eyes involuntarily flutter shut. This isn't supposed to be happening. This was supposed to be her finally gathering the courage to say no, and to fight back against this heavenly darkness sucking her in. Everything mingles inside of her and she feels the pull on her heart strings when Heather leans forward until their lips are ghosting together and whispers, "Please," like that'll make everything better again.
She's cut off by her body moving on it's own accord. Her lips push forward at a bruising force, molding around soft ones that kiss back with an equal force. Heather gasps into her mouth as their feet stumble backwards and her butt hits the edge of the sofa.
She hates this internal battle. She hates that Heather can do this and that she's so fucking spineless and weak that she can do nothing but give in. Her hands grip at the taller girl's waist, fingers digging in as she flips the kiss so she's in control and licks her way into Heather's mouth, starting an oral battle of sensual dominance that doesn't coincide with each other.
Ever since they started, Naya's been the one who's been dominated. Who's been lifted, pushed up against walls and kissed senseless. She's the one who's given in. But not this time. This time, she has dominance. She's driving this car straight into a head on collision and doing nothing to stop it but shut her eyes and enjoy the last few seconds of bliss. Her hands slide to Heather's thighs, gripping at them and hoisting until the taller woman's perching on the back of the sofa with her legs spread, Naya fitting into them perfectly as her teeth nip at lips that know her all too well.
She knows it'll end up with a broken heart. She knows at some point this will all crumble and they'll be left in that awkward after-stage where they can't even look at each other without hurting. But right now it's not about that.
Right now, it's about Naya showing Heather the better choice. It's about her showing Heather that she did nothing to deserve this hurt; this pain; this ache. That she did nothing but love Heather with her whole heart and never tried to question what they did because she was too undeniably in love with someone who had someone else.
Later though, when she's lying in bed with Heather tucked into the crook of her neck; breathing soundly and hugging her body tighter; she'll remember that this is all they'll ever get. This moment. These few fleeting hours which will breeze past and deepen the resentment that will come with the future.
But at least she got those few hours of passion. Those few hours of passion that novelists and poets deem to be epic love. Those few hours that tomorrow... Tomorrow when she's lying in bed on her own, will haunt her, even if her dreams.
At least she got those hours though. At least she got that.