A/N: Spoilers give me pain and inspiration.

The Break Up

Finn and Rachel

"Well," you chuckle when the train is out of sight, somehow trying to stop everyone from being so mopy. Quinn looks ready to jump on the tracks and run after her, Finn is stood just watching the space where the last carriage had disappeared, Sugar's eyes are fucking leaking and you have no idea why; she hated Rachel. You figure she's just one of those people that likes to cry at every given opportunity. Like Rachel. "She was sure crying a lot for a NYADA starlet off to 'live her dream'."

"Finn just broke up with her," Puck says simply, though he keeps his voice low. You're not sure whether it's because he also looks like he's about to high-tail it to New York or because Finn is stood only a few meters away.

Your brows raise, surprised but not really surprised at all. You figured they'd last at least a month into summer, maybe even get their teen wedding on and have enough time to realise it was a mistake. You gave them more than a week anyway.

"But like..." you try again, knowing that when you speak at times like these it's just to stop yourself from getting upset, or letting anyone else know that you are. You wish you didn't sometimes, and that you could stop the flow of words that you know is coming. It will be something offensive, and Quinn will roll her eyes, and Brittany will sigh, and the BFG will turn around with that look on his face that means he's either really mad at you or having trouble passing wind. You know that you will, because it happens every time, and then Brittany just gives you that 'I'm disappointed in you' look as she tries to hide her laughter, placing her hand on your back and moving you away from the wonderfully awkward circle of post-Santana snark. "She's coming back, right?" you continue, shrugging. "You're all acting like she jumped under the train, not on it."

Finn turns around quickly, mouth scrunched up and brows furrowed. You think he says something, but then he's just marching off towards his truck, Quinn sighing heavily and rolling her eyes, Sugar just looking at you with wide eyes; you forget that she has never experienced you during an awkwardly sad time, and you're not sure if the look in her eyes is admiration or she just thinks you're a crazy person. Maybe both.

Mercedes just slaps you on the arm, shaking her head when you look over at her.

"What?!" you gasp out defensively once Finn is safely out of ear-shot. "You all didn't see that coming? You honestly didn't see that coming?"

Quinn just rolls her eyes again. "Have some tact," she says simply, and her voice is soft like Puck's. You're not sure when everyone started wanting in Berry's pants.

"You can be a tactful as you like, but I call it like I see it," you shrug as you look over to Quinn. "Your sudden stance on teen weddings is verified. At least this one didn't happen. Hooray for divorce statistics."

You're not sure if you're trying to save it or piss more people off, but Quinn just groans and starts to walk away. "You're an ass," she says simply, though it's not venomous or angry, just kinda knowing. You know that one day you'll say the wrong thing to the wrong person, or the wrong thing to Quinn Fabray, and end up with a broken nose. But for now you just watch her go and feel guilty.

Everyone else follows not long after, without anything else really being said, and with a few 'why do you' glances thrown in your direction. You just roll your eyes, at yourself and them. Brittany places her hand on your back, pulling you along with her in the direction of her car. Mercedes and Sugar are riding with the two of you, so they trudge along too, and you head Sugar whispering something to Mercedes behind you. You walk in silence until you reach the car, and even as you're climbing in and pulling on your belt, but then the final door closes.

"Well, praise to that hot mess being over."

You spin around, brows raised. "You couldn't have said that out there?" You yell, and Sugar again looks like a deer caught in headlights. "You couldn't have agreed with me? Oh no, Angel Aretha has to wait until we're away from everyone else to release her inner bitch."

"Tact, Santana," she shrugs, crossing her arms. "It's called knowing the time and the place, and in front of the ex-boyfriend seconds after the ex-girlfriend leaves is neither."

You just roll your eyes again, turning in your seat and looking out front.

You hear Brittany chuckle as she starts the engine, and she's looking at you when you glance over. You just watch her, waiting for her to explain why she finds your distress so amusing, when she pokes the tip of your nose with her finger. "You're cute when you're angry," she says simply, scrunching up her nose and watching you.

She's cute now too, but you won't say it.

"Being called cute and a bitch at the same time is confusing for my inner-self," you say simply, keeping that emotionless expression on your face somehow. You feel a smile tugging at your lips; the huge, goofy kind, but you suppress it. Somehow.

She leans over then, planting a quick kiss on your lips. She pulls back only slightly, looking at your face for something, before kissing you again. And again. And again.

"Guys!" Mercedes' voice suddenly rings through the car, and Brittany pulls back with a laugh.

You know that the big, huge, ridiculous goofy smile is on your face now, and apparently so does Brittany. She leans forward again, pecking the end of your nose. "See," she says simply, "cute."

Joe and Quinn

"Is it really that surprising?" you laugh, shaking your head. "Weren't you making out with Puckerman during the last week of high school? Coming from a former serial-cheater; you need to like, hit up an AA meeting or something."

Quinn rolls her eyes. What a surprise. "Me and Joe weren't anything serious. We were just..."

"A horny teenage girl dating a guy with a god complex."

Brittany chuckles behind you, your head bopping up and down against her chest, and eventually Quinn cracks a smile too. You're all sat in her bedroom, Brittany sat up against the headboard playing Angry Birds, you sat between her legs and leaning against her, and Quinn laying at the end of the bed, watching the ceiling.

You all end up giggling for a few minutes, Brittany seemingly pausing the game as she tries to stifle her laughter with her hand, before Quinn lets out a groan. "I think he thought we were something that we weren't."

"I think he definitely did," you agree, hearing the almost muted sounds of the game start up again above your head. "If all you wanted was fun, why did you ever see bible quote tattoos and think 'yes, this is what I need'?"

"I don't know," Quinn breathes out, covering her eyes with her arm. "He was really sweet, and he really liked me."

"He wanted to like, marry you after a week," you reply, brows raised. "And he wanted in your pants so bad that I could almost feel it."

"I thought you were a lesbian for a while there, too," Brittany suddenly chimes in, and you bark out a laugh, remembering when she had asked you about it.

Quinn laughs then, lifting her arm from her head and turning to the two of you. "We're not all harbouring a deep, closeted love for the ladies, B," she grins, staring right at you.

You just give her the finger.

Tina and Mike

This one is way more surprising. And for once, you don't have a snarky remark. Maybe it's because Brittany is so upset about it, or maybe it's because you were a complete tool and you brought it up unknowingly over coffee at the bean.

"Oh," you croak out, watching as Tina looks down at the table, her grip on her coffee cup threatening to poke right through. You look over to Quinn, who is just glaring at you, then to Mercedes, who also looks surprised.

You wish people would warn you about these things.

"He was an ass about it anyway," Quinn says, hoping to be supportive as she puts a hand on Tina's forearm, squeezing.

Tina just sniffles a little, shaking her head. "He's not an ass. He was just doing what's best, I guess."

You know you have confusion written all over your face, and you know that you're gonna ask, even when you see Mercedes giving you a 'be quiet!' glare. "What's best?" you ask regardless, Mercedes rolling her eyes.

"Artie came over," she says after a few minutes of silence, and realization dawns on you. You feel your eyes widen a little in surprise, your mouth forming a small 'o'. You thought that ship had sailed, hit the side of a very rocky mountain and sunk. Hard.

You prefer not to think about where Artie's side of that ship floated off to, but you find yourself placing your hand on Brittany's knee regardless.

"Did you two..." you encourage, hoping you don't have to finish the question.

She looks up at you, her own eyes widening when she catches on to what you mean. "Oh! No, nothing like that. He just came over to catch up."

You nod, though she sounds way too defensive to be completely innocent.

"But Mike came over while he was there, to surprise me with dinner, but I told him that I hadn't seen Artie since the end of school and I wanted to catch up. He yelled for a while and said that I could see him whenever I wanted to when school started up again," she sniffles again, shrugging. You see Quinn tighten her grip on her forearm, and you're glad there are other people here besides you and girl-Chang. You've never really been that close, and you're bad enough at comforting your best friends when they're upset. "He asked me if I still had feelings for Artie, and that was it..."

You nod again, though your eyes are wide and your grip on Brittany's knee has gotten tighter. You're not really sure why. Maybe you're surprised, or maybe you've just been really insecure about this sort of thing since deciding to leave for Louisville. Maybe.

"So you still..." you trail off, and she just nods. "For Artie?" she nods again.

"I love Mike," she replies, shrugging again. "He deserved to know the truth. I wanted to be with him, I want to be with him, but I understand why he got angry."

"I think it's okay," Brittany says suddenly, and your eyes snap to hers. She's just watching Tina with a soft, reassuring smile. "I think it's okay to have feelings for other people, as long as you never acted on it. It's not like you ever cheated on him, so don't feel too bad."

Well shit. That definitely doesn't help.

"But she should have told him," you're saying before you realise, and Brittany's eyes are back on yours. "She should have been honest when she started having feelings for Artie again. She shouldn't have waited until she had no choice."

Brittany is looking at you. Like, really looking at you, trying to figure out why you've suddenly become so opinionated about somebody else's relationship when you've hardly cared at all in the past. You hold her eyes.

"That's true," she nods, "but sometimes that's hard to do. Sometimes things are harder to talk about with somebody that you love, even if they shouldn't be."

Shit shit shit.

"No," you disagree quickly, hand off of her knee now. "It should be easier. If you trust someone."

"But if you don't want to hurt them-"

"Then you know that you shouldn't wait until they figure it out and realise that you lied!"

You don't realise how loud you yelled until almost all of the tables around you fall silent. You look around; Tina's looking more upset than ever, Mercdes is face-palming like a pro, and Quinn is glaring. Tact, you almost hear her brain yelling at you, it's called tact.

Brittany is just watching you again, trying to figure you out. You're pretty sure she's almost there.

"I'm just saying," you croak out defensively, sinking in your seat. "It's always best to just be honest, even if the truth really sucks."

Sugar and Rory

"So, wait..." you blink, trying to clarify. You're all sat in Sugar's huge living room, pyjamas on and a movie forgotten in the background. Brittany is the only one still even half-watching, laughing sometimes, munching away on the popcorn. "You slept with Puckerman?"

Sugar nods, breaking off a piece of chocolate and throwing it in her mouth. "He's just so..." she trails off then, and lets out a noise that you think it supposed to be some sort of growl. You hear Quinn sicker beside you, covering her mouth to hide it.

You really don't understand how the guy with the squirrel mohawk and the inability to ever, ever last long enough to actually let you enjoy anything about sex with him got so many girls. You look around, pretty sure that everyone in this room has slept with him at some point, though Mercedes is questionable. You're not sure about Tina either, but you're sure they made out during Tina's summer of rebellion '10. She was between boyfriends and obsessed with Mike's abs during the time you saw the two of them basically going at it in the kitchen during one of Puck's 'legendary' parties.

"May I interrupt?" you hear coming from the couch and you groan, looking over to the laptop where Rachel's face appears. "I definitely understand the appeal. While I didn't go so far as to sleep with Noah, he definitely has a rugged appeal. I don't condone cheating at all, Sugar-"

"You did kinda cheat with him."

"But," Rachel continues, interrupting Mercedes pointedly. "I can't really blame you for falling pray to his charms."

"His charms?" you laugh, brows raised. "He hardly showers, he refuses to cut his ridiculous hair and he has a boner for anything that moves and has two boobs and a vagina." Everyone just looks at you, as if they don't understand why any of that is a turn off. Apart from Brittany, she's just watching the TV, though the smirk on her lips tells you that she's listening a little too. "Straight girls are so confusing..." you finish, shaking your head.

"You were sleeping with Puckerman for like, ever," Quinn chimes in, grabbing a twizzler and breaking it apart, throwing some in her mouth.

You glare at her. "I was trying to get my mind off of...other things," you reply, not wanting got get into this. It wasn't really a sore subject any more, though you didn't really like remembering it either. "Puck had a constant boner, and I had a constant need to not be a big, flannel-yielding lesbian. It worked out."

Everyone just kinda grimaced at that. Sugar looked intrigued though, and you knew what was coming.

"That couldn't have been much fun..." she pushes, and it's almost like a question. Everyone is watching you now, as if 'straight sex with a lesbian' is the hottest topic of conversation ever. Even Rachel is looking at you through the webcam with intrigued eyes.

Brittany's smirk is gone, though she's still looking at the TV. Not watching it though, you can tell.

"It wasn't," you shrug, trying to make it as simple as possible. "It sucked. But what's done is done."

"So you never..." Fucking Sugar Motta. She widens her eyes, as if trying to tell you what she means without having to say it. You just glare at her. "You know, while you..."

"I know that you mean, Paris Hilton. And no, I didn't."

"Wow," she breathes out. "That sucks."

"Excuse me again." Fucking Rachel Berry. "But having researched extensively before Finn and I...did the deed," she says, like your abuela trying to use slang. "I read up a lot about the importance of, shall I say, 'natural lubrication'." Quinn howls then. She literally howls while she laughs, not being able to hide it at all. She's sputtering out her twizzler everywhere, and you just watch her, entirely unimpressed. You hope the conversation will turn to the choking that Quinn will inevitably be doing in a moment or two, but she recovers somewhat. Unfortunately. "Surely, without such means it would be painful..."

You roll your eyes, sighing. "It wasn't fun, Berry. It sucked, and it included penis, and they always got really sweaty and smelly. And teenage boys do not last."

"But it must-"

"Shitting hell. Yes, okay? It hurt. I never got wet and he never noticed and it hurt."

You think that maybe you made it a little awkward, although really that award goes to Berry. Quinn isn't choking or laughing any more, Mercedes is looking down, Sugar is still looking at you but she looks sad. Rachel just looks like she's done something wrong, which is good, because if she was here you would have slapped her.

"And you just kept doing it?" Quinn asks then, everyone having gone pretty quiet and still now. You were having one of those wonderfully meaning conversations at a wonderfully girly sleepover and part of you hated it. The other part didn't, but then that part remembered that you were talking about your vagina, and it hated it too.

You shrug. "You gotta do what you gotta do. When you're a cheerleader sleeping with one of the most popular guys in school, nobody ever thinks to question whether you're sleeping with your best friend on the side."

Eyes turn to Brittany then, who looks over at them all and shrugs too. She doesn't look happy, and I know that talking about this makes her as uncomfortable as it does me.

"So you two have been..." Sugar trails off then. "For that long?"

You nod. "We even invited Puck in on the fun when he caught us," you laugh. Or at least, you try to laugh, but it just sounds bitter and sad. Even to your own ears. Brittany leans over and takes your hand then, her bowl of popcorn forgotten. "We played it off like it was the first time and we were too drunk to know better, and then we...y'know..."

"You've had a threesome!" Sugar yells, like it's the best thing in the world. "I am so jealous!"

You just stare at her, a laugh bubbling from your lips. "Jealous?"

She nods quickly. "It's on my bucket list."

Your friends are insane.

"He was kinda the first person to figure it out, actually," you go on, and you're not really sure what's making you be so open. Maybe it's the fact that Brittany is rubbing her hand with her thumbs, or Sugar is looking at you like you just threw on some sandals and started preaching the word of God, or maybe it's just that everyone is being so surprisingly cool with everything. Like they're just listening to learn about you, not to run off and tell other people. You kinda like that. "He said after that I was more interested in Brittany than him, and made a joke about me being gay, and then I freaked out. And so began the gay panic of '09."

"Followed by the gay panic of 2010," Brittany adds with a timid smile.

"And topped off with the gay panic of 2011," you laugh, squeezing her hand.

You turn to everyone else and they're just looking at you, their expressions undecipherable.

"I never knew," Quinn breathes out, confusion on her face. "How did I never figure this out?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "I think you were a little busy, Q. Having a baby and being thrown out and going through hell and back is probably a good reason not to realise that one of your best friends is gay as a rainbow."

She just smiles then, nodding a little, as if thankful that you're not angry. You don't get it, but you just smile back. Mercedes just smiles, Sugar too, and then the wonderfully crackly Skype voice speaks up again.

"May I just say, Santana. This makes for a wonderful screenplay."

Mercedes and Sam

Splitting loyalties is hard. You get Mercedes calling you up and asking you to meet her, tears evident in her voice. She asks you to go over, and you agree, confused.

Then Sam is calling you.

"Girls!" he yells. "You're so confusing. You're a girl and you like girls so please, tell me why you are so hard to understand."

"You're dating Mercedes. I don't think even Aretha herself could write a book on how to successfully date Mercedes Jones, Sammy."

"I'm not even dating Mercedes," he spits out, though his voice sounds entirely defeated and much sadder than you've ever heard it. "That's the problem. I don't know what I did..."

You sigh. Another couple.

"Sam, I'll come over later, okay? I'm busy right now."

He just sighs. "You're going over to see her, aren't you?"

"In a little while, yeah," you speak softly. "I promise I'll come over straight after, though. Or I'll send Britt over while I go to Mercedes', with the best copy of The Avengers you will ever see." He laughs a little then, though it's soft and still sounds really sad. "I swear, no asshole stands up to use the bathroom and the sound is perfect."

"Okay," he breathes out through another chuckle. "Thanks, S."

You say a quick goodbye before hanging up, groaning and throwing yourself backwards on the bed.

"Sam and Mercedes?" Brittany asks, her hand finding your hair and her fingers running through it

You just nod, closing your eyes ad enjoying the way her nails feel against your scalp. You always loved getting your hair played with like that, and you blame your mom for always doing it to you as a kid. It made you really sleepy, which is subsequently what you and Brittany were about to do. You had decided to take a nap together and got all the way to your room before the phone rang.

"Wow," she says eventually. You open an eye to see her shaking her head, just looking at the wall opposite. "Everybody's breaking up."

You nod again. You try to laugh, wanting to act nonchalant about the fact that the myth about high school relationships is reigning true, but you know that it comes out soft and shaky. "Yeah..." you say, swallowing hard.

You don't know why it makes you so uncomfortable. The fact that people are breaking up shouldn't have any weight on you and Brittany and your relationship, you have control over that, you're not just gonna throw it away because other people are. But you still feel it, and you feel it every time somebody tells you that they've broken up, or that this was too hard or that was too hard.

They've not even left for college yet and things are already too hard, doubts and worries are already too big. You think maybe they're just doing this before everyone stars to go their own way to get it over with, to accept the inevitable and move on. Quinn talked about anchors once; when she was talking about Finn and Rachel, granted, but it still stays with you now. She talked about having nothing holding you back, being able to move on and up without anything or anyone keeping you here; back in Lima, Ohio, along with the rest of the lifeless population of this town.

But you aren't Rachel, and Brittany is most definitely not Finn. You have dreams and you want out of here, but Brittany isn't second to your dreams, she's part of them. She wants out too, and she has the talent, the drive. Nobody seems to notice, but she does, and you notice, and you have no doubt that she'll be out of here in no time and you'll be happy together.

No doubt at all.

You believe yourself sometimes.

Kurt and Blaine

You're in Lousville when you hear about that one, and it actually comes just a few hours after finding out that Artie and Tina are 'totally getting it on again'. Brittany's words.

She's texting you pretty much everything that happens to everyone throughout her days, and you love that. You always try to do the same, but explaining who everyone is and what they're like is kinda hard, especially seeing as though you don't really care enough about anyone to really know anything.

It took you years to make actual friends, and the kids in Glee were more than used to your shit. The people here aren't, and they don't know how to take you, so they just don't take you at all. You don't really mind too much most of the time, you're more than okay with your own company, but sometimes you just want to talk. Calling and texting is good, Skype is fun, but it still isn't the same.

And your roommate is a total bitch.

All in all, Louisville sucks. It's just Lima but a little bigger and a little less awful. But you don't want less awful, you want good, and you want big. Instead of moving forwards, you feel like you took a tiny step and fell on your ass, and that sucks. A lot.

"When?" you ask, abandoning the work on your desk and holding you cellphone tightly. They really were your last hope. The hopelessly romantic porcelain and the handsome gel queen, a match made in gay heaven. Or they should have been. They were for a while, but then things god weird and Blaine was singing passive aggressive Whitney and Kurt started being less...well, Kurt. You had noticed it happen, but you didn't really know either of them enough to ask, and Mercedes would always just roll her eyes and grunt.

"I don't know, last night I think," Brittany sighs. "Over Skype. Kurt is coming home tomorrow too, and he apparently told Blaine they need to talk, and Blaine had got upset and told him that he knows what that means, and they fought. He said Kurt never denied that he was going to break up with him, but he said that he didn't want to 'do this over Skype'."

"Wow," you nod, taking in the information. "That sucks."

"Mhmm," she agrees, and you know that she's thinking about it too.

'Everybody's breaking up.'

Santana and Brittany

You decide, at some point during that week, that you don't want to go back to Louisville. You think maybe it's when you're looking down at Brittany between your legs for the first time in what feels like forever, like seeing god going down on you and giving you best orgasm you could ever, ever imagine.

Just maybe.

But you do decide. You tell your mom first, and she just rolls her eyes with a laugh, telling you that you're more flip-floppy than your father. You're pretty sure he didn't flip-flop for too long, because he got through med school quickly enough, although you've heard many a family tale about his desire to be a professional boxer.

You told him next, he just told you that it was wonderful and hugged you. He also suggested many, many possible professions and places, like a travel agent with a tendency to dip into guidance counselling.

Then you have to tell her.

You had talked about it a lot with your father, embarrassed to tell him that you wanted to go to New York. To admit that you actually bought that 'chase your dreams' shit that you were fed for three years. He hugs you again, something he had started doing a lot when you came out and had, as he said, 'finally opened your heart'.

You wonder where he came from, because his mother is most definitely not flying the same flag.

"I don't know what you mean," Brittany replies, her face scrunching up a little.

You sigh, reaching out across the small space between you, taking her hands. You're sat on your bed, cross-legged and facing one another. It had taken you about an hour to even start the conversation, and now that it had begun you didn't really know where to go from here. You had a tendency, when it came to Brittany, to just get it all out and blubber away, not really giving her the chance to react.

Then you would push her away and turn around and walk away from her and her locker and down the halls of your school as people looked at you like you were crazy.

Or maybe that was just one time, but it was a bad time.

"I mean, I don't want to go back to Louisville to study," you say, your thumbs making circles on her palms. "Or like, ever. It's like Lima's big brother, except it hasn't learned its lesson and improved itself at all."

You try to laugh again, but she just looks serious.

"So you're just going to stay here?" she asks then, and you develop a huge knot in your throat. "Is this because of me? Because I told you, you need to do your thing for a while, and I need to do mine." You nod then, about to speak when she continues. "It would actually probably be better if you were there, because I can't study at all with you around. Even the Skype study sessions we try to do end up sexy. I was thinking we should probably just stop those, because-"

"I want to go to New York."

Holding your breath until you couldn't any more and then forming words with your first poof of breath was actually harder than you had anticipated, but it had worked. It was out there. Brittany knew.

Her face fell then, her hands pulling from yours. You hadn't expected that part.

You just watch her face as it scrunches again, confusion etched across her features. You kinda just want to wrap her up in your arms for hours to make that go away, but then you realise that you caused it, and your face does something similar. Except your eyes sting.

"When?" she breathes out. "Like, now?"

"Well, not right now," you try to joke, though your voice is bubbly with tears already, and your hands are still just laying on the mattress where they were, waiting for hers to come back and take them. You're pretty sure that won't happen when she just glares at you, actually glares. You feel like you've just been punched in the stomach.

"You know what I mean, don't play dumb," she replies, strangely emotionless. You want that to go away, and you want that glare to go away, and you want her hands to come back to yours and you want to just go to sleep like you were supposed to be doing. To swallow back what you said and just forget about it. But you know you can't. "You're gonna go to New York? What for?"

You shrug then. "I don't know. I just...I don't want to be in Louisville, but I don't want to be here either. I want to move forward."

"Moving forward is actually doing something that can get you somewhere," she replies quickly. "It's finding something that you want to do, because you don't know yet, Santana. It's okay not to know, but that's what this is for, that's what Louisville is for. Quitting college to go off to New York on your parents' money is not moving forward. It's moving out, it's living somewhere else, and then it's being stuck."

"You don't think I can make it?" you snap back, even though you know you're talking crap. Brittany's been the only person to always believe in you, even when you wanted the most ridiculous things. "Well, thanks for that, baby."

"Shut up, Santana. You know that I do." Your eyes drop to the bed at that, because neither of you are under any delusion when it comes to that. "I think you can do anything. Which is why you need to find what your anything is before you go to the most expensive city ever to live."

"I'll find a job."

"Doing what? Being a waitress?" she snaps back, and you're actually fighting. You don't do this often, and you definitely don't like her voice like that. Not when it's directed at you, anyway. And you don't like that look either. At all. "And what about when the money runs out and your job can't cover your rent?"

You hate logic.

"I'm not telling you what to do, I know that's pointless, but when it comes to moving to the other side of the country I don't really have a way to play the whole 'learn it yourself' game with you, Santana."

Well, ouch.

"Why was it so different when I was leaving for Louisville? I still had no idea what I was doing, and I was still leaving you."

"For a reason." She is quick again, and your eyes widen for a moment before looking down at your fidgeting hands. "If you go to New York with no plan, nothing there for you, then you're just leaving to leave."

"I'm leaving to live somewhere that I don't hate," you say back, and you see her flinch before you realise how she probably took that. "You know that I mean, don't do that."

"This is pointless," she huffs out, getting to her feet, and you know that she's right. Telling you what to do never worked, no matter who the person doing it was. Sure, Brittany totally had you whipped, but you were still a stubborn bitch. When it came to you having an idea, nobody could tell you that it was wrong or that you were being dumb, because you brain just didn't listen.

Brittany had figured that out pretty early on, hence the 'sex tape' fiasco of last year. She does ridiculous shit until you came to the decision yourself. There isn't really much she can do when it comes to moving to New York, especially when you're talking about not going back to Louisville tomorrow and throwing that away.


"No, it really is," she says again, and something about it sounds so final that your breath catches in your throat. "I don't care if I'm here and you're somewhere else. It's easy when I know that we'll back together and we'll have something to build on. But if you go there, all we'll have to build on is a nineteen-year-old high-school graduate and a tiny apartment in New York that you're paying for with money that will run out."

"And if I stay here? What do we have then?"

"We have a future! You get a job for a while, build a resume, get some experience, and then we move forward. You actually think."

"I am thinking," you spit back, and you know that this is going all wrong. This isn't a conversation, and your blood is boiling while you're talking to Brittany, and that never happens. None of this is going right. It should be a simple 'I'm going to new York, B. I'll come visit!' and an 'Okay!'. It should be easy. Everything was always easy with you two.

"What about never leaving me?" Her voice is trying to be strong but you can tell it's not. You can tell that she's close to crying, and the fact that your eyes are still watering shows that you are too. "You said you'd never leave me, remember? Does that not count now?"

"I'm not leaving you," you sigh. "I'm going away to-"

"To what? Going away to what?"

"To start my life!"

"By yourself?"

"Unless you want to pack up and come with me, yes!"

"Exactly!" she almost screams, her chest rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath, her eyes red and her tears falling now. You didn't like that. You didn't like this, any of this. This wasn't easy and simple, this wasn't how you were. You wanted her to play that game, set things up and make you realise you were being ridiculous, show you what to do. Because as much as your mind was set on going to New York, you did have no idea what you would do once you got there, and you did have no idea where to start when it came to jobs and careers and schools.

You were just insufferably stubborn, even for you.

"You're starting your life by yourself, and not because there's something there that you have to move for. Because if you go to New York and you're not working towards anything, we're not working towards anything, then where do we go from there?"

"It's okay to be apart!" you shout back. Or the stubborn ass inside of you shouts back, anyway. "We talked about that like, a thousand times before I moved away."

"We're going around in circles," she groaned, staring up at the ceiling. "I don't want to fight with you."

You watch her for a moment before getting to your knees on the bed, shuffling towards her as she stands at the end. "I don't want to fight either..." you say, your voice softer now, and you move to take her hands.

"No," she says, pulling away. Your chest just definitely caved in, or your heart broke. Or both happened at once. "I don't want to fight with you because there's no point. You're gonna do what you want to do, and I'm not gonna be there to pick up the mess again."

You flinch back. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I love you, Santana. I love you more than anything, but I'm trying to pass high school, and that might have been easy for you, but it's not for me. I need to focus, and I can't focus when you're throwing all of these things at me. I want to support what you want, but that's impossible to do when you don't even know."

You look down, closing your eyes. You don't like what you think this is, or what you think is coming next, or the way hear her whimper like she knows what she's about to say and she doesn't want to either. It's wrong. All of it is wrong. You close your eyes tighter, your lips in a tight line in an attempt to hold in the sob that you hear escape anyway.

"I want you to do what you need to do, but if you're going to do this, and if you're going to change your mind all the time and not give me a place, then I need you to let me go before you do."

"Brittany..." you let out, and she sniffles as you finally open your eyes, looking up. She looks as distraught as you're sure you do. Her eyes are so, so red, tears just leaking from her eyes. Her bottom lip is quivering, her eyes look sadder than you've ever seen them, and it breaks you completely. "Britt, don't," you try, moving hour hands and grabbing hers.

"San," she says, and it's almost like a plea, like she has nothing else, can do nothing else. Like she knows that it's going to happen and there's nothing either of you can do to stop it.

"I want you," you say quickly. "I want you more than anything else. I promise."

She shakes her head then, pulling her hands away, pushing yours back as you struggle to not let go. "If you stay here, you won't be happy."

"If I don't have you then I won't be happy," you try again, standing up off the bed now as she moves backwards, towards the door. "You can't break up with me, Brittany. Please."

"Don't," she says, her back against the door now. "I can't, Santana."

You keep walking, though you feel like your legs are about to give way. It feels like everything's about to give way, like everything you've worked towards for the past three years is caving in on you, like it's falling apart. Because it is. She's stood in front of you and she's about to leave, and then you'll be done. You'll have lost her.

She's running towards you before you realise, her lips smashing into yours so hard that you're sure they'll bruise. She lets out a sob against your lips, moving them to pull your bottom lip between her own, your tears mixing with hers as they fall. Her hands are gripping at your back like she'll never get another chance, and that thought just makes you cry into her lips as she pulls away, the long breath she lets out shaky.

"I love you," she whispers through another sob, her lips ghosting over yours. She moves her nose to nudge yours, closing her eyes tightly as you grip her hips for dear life. Hoping that this is her changing her mind, that she'll stay, feel what this is and what it is every time you kiss and stay.

But then she's pulling away, whispering "I love you so much," and letting herself out of the door.

Then it's over, and everything falls apart around you.