"To love is nothing. To be loved is something. But to be loved by the person you love is everything and the best feeling ever."

Does it hurt? Yes, it hurts. It hurts to be afraid to be loved. Santana allowed herself to push everyone around her away - even those that tried to stay. And yet, she is completely powerless to stop herself because in the end, she can't control it. She's not even sure if she wants to control it. She's been living this way for so long - guarded her heart at every turn - and it's not easy to change, to allow herself some comfort when all she's ever known is heart-ache. And even knowing this, knowing there's a possibility for her to change...she doesn't change. Because there will always be a voice inside of her head telling her that she isn't worthy; that she doesn't deserve to be loved.

Brittany had almost changed that.

Almost.

If there was one thing that Santana didn't miss about her relationship with Brittany, it surely had to be the intimacy.

It was different with other people - with Puck and the other Jocks. She knew what they wanted: sex. It was that simple. They would have sex, and afterwards, they would leave. It was simple. It was easy. Santana expected nothing less and they wanted nothing more.

Except Brittany had stayed. Every time. And most of the time she wanted to talk. Nothing serious, it never included talk about any actual feelings - because Brittany knew Santana exceptionally well - but they would talk. They would talk about school, their family and friends, Glee club and the solo's they'd sung that week. Brittany had always managed to compliment Santana in some way. And she did it so subtly that Santana hardly knew the blonde had done it. Before long, Santana had gotten used to Brittany staying after they'd had sex. She even looked forward to it. Sometimes - but only sometimes - she even enjoyed the talking more than the actual sex.

Brittany had managed to creep her way into Santana's heart and the Latina had almost allowed herself to feel worthy of Brittany's affection.

Almost.

Quinn's words echoed inside of Santana's head. Because they can't hurt you if you push them away first, isn't that right?

No, it's not right, Quinn. Santana didn't push people away before they could hurt her. She was used to being hurt. No, she pushed them away before she could hurt them. Because Santana Lopez didn't do relationship - and sex certainly wasn't dating.

Nevertheless, Santana loved Brittany. She loved Brittany so fiercely that it scared her to admit it to herself. So, instead of admitting this to herself and to Brittany, she had pushed the blonde away. Not because she was afraid of Brittany hurting her, but because she was afraid of hurting Brittany. And she never wanted to hurt Brittany. Never. If they had stayed together, it would have been that much harder to say goodbye in the future - as there was always a goodbye. Because Santana wasn't worthy of Brittany's love. Because Santana didn't allow herself to be loved.

Quinn was only supposed to be something fun. They were only supposed to be casual. She'd thought Quinn had understood that. It was only supposed to be sex - strictly no feelings involved. She'd thought Quinn only wanted her because she couldn't have Rachel, and she only wanted Quinn because she wasn't worthy to be loved by Brittany. But then Quinn, without either of them knowing, had somehow found her way past Santana's barrier and into her heart. Santana couldn't pin-point exactly when it happened. Perhaps when they'd slept together for the first time - or, perhaps it was after they'd had sex, when Quinn would reach out and traced a finger gently over Santana skin. She'd found a way into Santana's heart, just like Brittany had. Except it was different with Quinn, because Quinn had never asked for any commitment like Brittany had.

Until she did. Until Quinn had asked her out.

Maybe Santana had overreacted by leaving. She was more than willing to admit that she was foolish for running away. But, that's all she knew how to do. She wasn't good with difficult situations - it was easier to run than have to face the hard decisions. She'd been doing it her whole life. It's what she was used to; running away when things got too hard. It was the only thing she knew how to do.

And when Quinn had asked her out, she could feel the walls begin to close in around her. She could feel herself slowly suffocating and the only way to relieve her suffering was to run.

Then she realised - the cold, hard truth slapping her in the face - that she wasn't worthy of Quinn's love, either.

Being back at school was strangely exciting. For Santana, it meant that she could get lost in her studies and forget all about Quinn and Brittany. And even her kiss with Rachel - which she certainly had not been thinking about. Sure, it was hard avoiding said girls, considering they were all in Glee club and Brittany was a cheerleader, but Santana had made a point of hanging out with the other cheerleaders - the ones she knew neither Brittany, nor Quinn (or even Rachel for that matter) - liked.

Santana had managed to make it through first and second period without seeing any of them.

Until it happened.

Until she saw Brittany and Rachel walking down the hallway, hand-in-hand.

The pair seemed oblivious to the stares as they walked towards Rachel's locker. The noise in the hallway had quietened, but only for a moment as it suddenly became abuzz with the loud chatter of students.

Are they together? Gross.

Huh - I always knew Berry was a queer, but I didn't know Brittany was, too.

Brittany and Berry? How the fuck did that happen.

Wait...isn't Brittany with Santana? That's gotta sting.

The last comment had came from somewhere behind Santana. The Latina turned and found a short, red-headed girl standing behind her with two other girls. She glared at them, and the red-headed girl - the one who'd spoken - quickly closed her locker and hurried away, her friends following behind her.

Santana didn't even care that the girl had presumed that she and Brittany had been together. Strangely, she didn't even care any more if people knew she liked girls.

Santana didn't even care that the girl had presumed that she and Brittany were together. Strangely, she found herself no longer caring if people found out that she liked girls. She didn't care what people would say behind her back. She just didn't care any more. She had nothing left. She had successfully pushed Brittany away. She had managed to push Quinn away, too. She had no one left. She had nothing left.

The Latina glanced at Rachel and Brittany. The tall blonde was holding Rachel's books while the shorter girl placed some of them inside of her locker, laughing at something Brittany was saying. It made Santana sick to her stomach. It made her sick because she knew that if she wasn't the way she was - if she wasn't who she was - she could have been with Brittany instead of Rachel. She could have been the one holding Brittany's hand.

Then Santana reminded herself that she didn't deserve Brittany. Because Brittany was far too sweet and kind and beautiful, everything that Santana didn't deserve. Because Santana was mean, rude, and someone like Brittany surely deserved someone better than Santana.

Santana closed her locker. She felt herself on the verge of tears (she'd been crying a lot, recently) as jealousy trembled through her veins. She walked quickly towards the girls bathroom, hoping not to draw any attention to herself - especially not their attention. Once inside, she leaned against the closed door and clenched her fists tightly. When she was sure no one else was in the bathroom, she let the first wave of tears fall.

But Santana didn't cry for Brittany. Neither did she cry for Quinn. She cried for herself, and for just how much she had managed to fuck up.

Because Santana had nobody to blame but herself.

Santana had skipped third and fourth period. She had stayed inside of the girls bathroom until the bell for third period had sounded and the hallways had cleared out. Then Santana had made her way outside, towards the football bleachers, and sat on the ground underneath them, in a corner usually reserved for the Skanks.

Skanks. Ha! Santana found the name absolutely ridiculous, considering none of the so-called Skanks had actually had sex. The name was more befitting of the cheerleaders.

It was raining out today, but it didn't bother Santana. She let the cool rain wash over her skin and allowed her tears to mix in with the water running down her cheeks.

Out of all the things Santana regretted, in that moment she mostly regretted snapping at Quinn. Because Quinn was the only person Santana felt like talking to. Quinn knew her better than most; the blonde knew her sometimes even better than she knew herself. She wanted Quinn to slap some sense into her, like she knew her friend would've done if she'd seen her right now. She wanted Quinn to tell her to grow some balls, to suck it up and head back into school with her head held high like it was nobody's business.

But Quinn wasn't there to do that. Because Santana had managed to push away her only remaining friend.

"Santana?"

The Latina's head snapped up. Secretly she hoped it was Quinn. A small, tiny part of her hoped it was Brittany.

But it was Rachel.

And, yet, Santana didn't feel disappointed. She didn't even care that Rachel had found her crying - again. She was even a little happy to see Rachel, not that she would ever admit that. Even though Santana had secretly hoped that it was Quinn or Brittany, she was also glad that it was neither girl as she was still unsure of what she would say to either of them if confronted. Besides, Rachel was the only person left that Santana felt would listen to her - even if the diva was dating the girl she loved.

Santana wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, managing a small laugh. "We've got to stop meeting like this," she joked.

Rachel smiled faintly in response, stepping a little closer. Her brown hair was sticking to her face, her clothes soaked-through. "Are you okay?" she asked gently, although a little hesitant. Santana figured she was still a little apprehensive after the kiss.

"I'll be okay." Santana shrugged. "What are you doing out here?"

"Well"-Rachel cleared her throat-"you weren't in third period, and when you didn't show up to fourth, I suspected something might be wrong."

The Latina had forgotten that she shared most of her classes with Rachel. She usually ignored the short diva. "Why did you come looking?" Santana asked. She looked at Rachel with her head titled. Rachel had never cared about Santana's business, and Santana had never cared about Rachel's. To them, that's just how their relationship seemed to work.

Rachel sighed. She stepped up beside Santana and took a seat next to her on the ground, tucking her wet hair behind her ears. "Because despite our past conflict with one another, I still like to consider us friends, Santana. And as your friend, I was concerned about you." The shorter girl fiddled with her hands, smoothing out her skirt. "I checked everywhere before I spotted you out here."

Santana raised an eyebrow towards Rachel. Friends. Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez - friends? If only sixteen-year-old Santana Lopez could see her now. But, weirdly, and yet not weirdly, being friends with Rachel sounded nice. For years they had been at each others throats, all over nothing, and the thought of finally putting their petty squabbling aside sounded nice. Especially now, since Santana seemed to be lacking in the friends department.

When Santana didn't reply, Rachel said, "But only if you want to be friends. I'd like it if we could be, though."

Santana turned to meet Rachel's gaze. There was a warmth behind the short diva's eyes and Santana found herself lost within them. Something strange stirred inside of her gut - something strangely familiar. The same intense warmth that had beheld her body the night she had kissed Rachel. Quickly, Santana looked away from Rachel and focused on her hands. "I'd like that, too. I could really use a friend right now."

The Latina could feel Rachel's gaze burning into the side of her head. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Sighing, Santana met Rachel's eyes once more. The shorter girl's gaze was sincere, earnest, and Santana found herself wanting to unload all of her problems upon Rachel. It was easy to talk to Rachel. Santana had never realised this about the diva before, but Rachel was a good listener. She had this way of making you feel completely comfortable and relaxed. She would lead in, keep her attention focused on you...and then she would tell you her truth, even if it hurt, because she cared too much not to.

"Shouldn't you be in class? Aren't you afraid you'll get in trouble?" Santana diverted the conversation. As much as she wanted to tell Rachel everything, she couldn't. She was scared. She was scared that Rachel might be able to see Santana as herself - see past the wall she'd built only to tear it down.

"It's only gym. No one really cares about gym. Besides, this is McKinley, when have they ever cared about a student skipping class? If they did, Noah would have been suspended or even expelled by now." Rachel shrugged, but her eyes never left Santana. "But we're not talking about me. We're talking about you. And since we're friends now, I demand you tell me what's wrong."

Rachel angled her body a little so that she was facing Santana. Her knee knocked against Santana's leg, and for a brief moment their skin touched, causing little pulses of electricity to dance across Santana's skin. The Latina tried to ignore the clenching of her stomach as she looked at Rachel. This was what she had wanted. She had wanted a friend. And Rachel was offering to be that friend. Sure, Rachel wasn't Quinn nor was she Brittany, but somehow that made everything easier. Because they were only friends, nothing more. That's why Santana chose to ignore the way her heart raced when their skin touched and the way her hands got clammy whenever Rachel looked at her. As of now, Santana needed a friend. She'd already acted on impulse once before, when she'd kissed Rachel in the bathroom, and she had ruined any chance of friendship with Brittany because of that. But Rachel seemed to be giving her a second chance, and Santana sure as hell wasn't going to screw it up.

Santana grumbled to herself, rubbing her tired eyes. "Okay. Fine. But you can't tell anyone. Not even Hummel. And I meant it, Berry. I'm not even sure I should tell you this because it doesn't only involve me," Santana said.

Rachel merely inched closer. "Cross my heart," the shorter girl said, using a finger to make a cross over her heart. The action caused a nostalgic pain to settle deep inside of Santana's chest.

Brittany used to do that.

Santana shook her head, ridding herself of old memories. She fingered the hem of her skirt. "I fucked everything up."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...I slept with Quinn and now everything is fucked up!"

Rachel's eyes widened. Her lips parted and she stuttered, fumbling for a coherent sentence. The shorter girl allowed herself a moment to process this new information before she replied, "You slept with Quinn?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Yes, Berry, I slept with Quinn. Should I repeat myself?"

"Um, no." Rachel shook her head.

The Latina noticed the way Rachel's lip turned down and how her eyes seemed almost distant, like she was in the process of a deep thought. But she decided not to comment on it. Now right now, anyway. "It was at Puck's party. We were both desperate, I suppose, and really drunk. Somehow we stumbled towards the bedroom and I woke up the next morning lying next to her."

Rachel twisted her lips. "So, you regret sleeping with Quinn?"

"No." The sex was really good. "Yes." It had ruined their friendship. Santana had ruined their friendship.

"Yes or no?"

Santana sighed deeply. "No. I suppose I don't. I don't regret sleeping with Quinn because I like her. I like her a fucking lot!" The sudden outburst not only shocked Rachel, but shocked Santana herself. The Latina groaned, hitting her head against the wall behind her. She couldn't believe she had admitted that to herself, much less Rachel Berry. When had her life gotten this complicated? When had her life got this fucked up? She glanced at Rachel out of the corner of her eye, only to find Rachel watching her intensely.

"So, what went wrong?"

"I did. I went wrong. I fucked up - again. Just like I fucked everything up with Brittany because I'm messed up. I'm so messed up that I can't even allow myself to be happy. Quinn wanted to go on a date or something, and I said no. I told her we were only casual. I pushed her away because she was beginning to get too close and I didn't want to hurt her."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "You didn't want to hurt her?"

Shit. Santana hadn't meant to divulge everything to Rachel. Only the basics. But the Latina felt this need within her to get it out, to finally talk to someone other than herself. Rachel was the last person that Santana ever expected to tell all of her dirty secrets to, yet she felt as if Rachel wouldn't judge her. In this one moment, Santana felt that Rachel might be able to understand her more than anyone else ever would.

Santana took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I don't know why I do it. But whenever someone gets close - when it seems like they care - I push them away. I feel like I'm suffocating. I end it early because I know, at some point, it will end. And it hurts them less if I do it early." Santana looked at Rachel, only the shorter girl was already staring back with a deep intensity. "Whatever. I don't know. It sounds stupid." Santana tried to shrug it off. It wasn't easy to explain and now she felt stupid for even trying. Rachel wouldn't understand.

"It doesn't sound stupid," Rachel spoke lowly, her voice soft. Santana met her eyes again. There was something gut-wrenchingly familiar behind Rachel's eyes; something fearsome and lonely. "I understand."

The Latina stared at Rachel. "How?"

The rain had lightened, but hadn't stopped completely. For a short moment, neither girl said anything, until Rachel sighed and leaned heavily against the wall behind her. "I understand because I used to feel that way. When I was with Finn, I accepted the way he treated me because I felt like that was the way I deserved to be treated. I attached myself to Finn because I felt like he was the only person that would ever love me." Rachel reached out and grabbed Santana's hand, entwining their cold fingers. The Latina was startled. She glanced down at their hands, feeling tingles dance across her flesh. "I don't think you're afraid of hurting people, Santana. I think you tell yourself that to avoid the truth: that you're afraid of getting hurt. And it's okay to feel that way...to feel like you have to push them away because you don't deserve them. That's how I felt about Brittany. For awhile, it seemed almost unreal. At any moment, I expected Brittany to turn around and tell me it was all a joke - and then she'd just got running back into your arms. Even now I don't feel like I deserve her. I still expect her to realise that she could have someone better." Rachel clenched Santana's hand tighter. "You're afraid, just like I was...and still am sometimes. You're afraid that if you allow yourself to be loved, it'll only cause you heartache in the end."

And there it was - Rachel's truth. Except the truth hit Santana harder than she realised it would. And yet, this was what she had been needing - what she had needed someone to tell her because she was too damn stubborn to admit it to herself. This was why Rachel had to be the one to tell her. This was why Rachel, above Quinn and Brittany, needed to be the one who Santana talked to. Because Quinn would have been too brutal, and instead of talking Santana would have only argued back...and then she would have ran, like she ran away from most complicated things in her life, as it was too hard to face. And it couldn't have been Brittany, either, as Brittany was too nice to be honest enough the way Rachel had been.

Santana glanced down at her hand entwined with Rachel's, feeling her eyes begin to swell with tears. It was true. All of it. Rachel was bold enough to say all of the things Santana had been afraid to admit. And, yes, it hurt to finally admit to it all - but it also felt good. Santana felt relieved, as if she could finally breath after drowning for so long.

Maybe all along Rachel's friendship had been what Santana needed. Because although Rachel Berry was loud, ambitious and somewhat obnoxious; she wasn't a quitter. She never gave up on the things she believed in or wanted, even if those things seemed so far out of reach. Perhaps that's what Santana needed. Maybe that's what she wanted. She wanted, for the first time, for someone not to give up on her. Even if she made it difficult. She wanted someone who wouldn't let go when things got tough - even if Santana tried her hardest to push them away. She wanted someone to call her out on her bullshit, but she didn't want to fight; she just wanted to talk. She needed someone like Rachel who wasn't afraid of a challenge. She needed someone like Rachel who wouldn't give up on her.

She needed Rachel.

"I'm jealous of you, you know," Santana admitted after a moment. She looked up to meet Rachel's confused gaze. The Latina laughed at the expression on Rachel's face, consciously aware of the fact that their hands were still entwined. "Don't make this weird, okay, Berry. I'm trying to be honest with you. Y'know, since we're friends."

"Why would you be jealous of me?"

Santana shrugged. "Because...you're so untroubled by yourself. You accept who you are, and no matter what you refuse to change for other people. You don't let anyone get you down, even when it seems like the whole world is against you. I thought I used to be like that. But the truth is, I'm not that person. I don't accept myself."

Rachel squeezed Santana's hand tightly. "Maybe it's time you learn how to accept yourself."

Santana looked at Rachel hopelessly. "How do I do that?" It felt strange to be relying on Rachel for the answer to a question Santana had asked herself many times. She felt weak asking for help, yet she knew Rachel wasn't judging her.

"I think you should start by talking to Brittany and Quinn. You should tell them everything you've told me. Help them understand."

Santana shook her head. "I don't think I can."

"Listen," Rachel said, tugging at Santana's hand to gather her attention. "I'm going to help you. I told you before, we're friends now. And friends help each other. I'm not going to let you do this alone."

The intensity behind Rachel's eyes made Santana take a deep breath. Who would have thought that Rachel, of all people, would be the one to understand Santana the most? Santana found herself nodding along, a small smile working its way onto her lips. Help sounded nice. She'd been wandering alone though the darkness for so long that any kind of help would be welcomed. "You know what, Berry, you're not so bad," Santana joked.

Rachel laughed in response. "You're not so bad yourself."

By now the rain had stopped and the sun was starting to poke out from behind the clouds. Rachel squeezed Santana's hand once more before letting it go and standing up from the ground. The short diva smoothed out her skirt, brushing away the dirt it had acquired from sitting on the ground. "Come on," Rachel said, reaching out her hand to help Santana up from the ground. "We should get cleaned up."

Santana allowed Rachel to help her up from the ground and together they began to walk back towards the school.

And as they walked through the hallways, Santana found herself glancing at Rachel.

Hopefully, she'd be okay.

Hopefully, Rachel wouldn't give up on her.

So, this chapter is a little shorter than usual, but I felt like this chapter needed to end here. For me, it wouldn't have been right to add anything more.

The inspiration for this chapter came from the song You'll Be Okay by A Great Big World, which you should totally go check out because it's amazing! It's been in my head all day - and will probably annoy the hell out of me for the rest of the week. Anyhow, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Any feedback is greatly appreciated! :)