Summary: "And you're still expecting her to, you know, come around during these times?" "Expecting? No. But hoping? Always." Quinntana AU. Martana friendship and a little bit of Karley. Slightly OOC.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5k+

AN: This is NOT (bold, italicized, and underlined for emphasized emphasis XD) a Santana/Marley (Santarley? Martana? Lol idk) story. Just Quinntana + Santana/Marley friendship (with a teeny-tiny bit of Karley. :D).

R&R. :*

Day 332

I cringe as I hear a loud screeching which signals the train's halt. I gather my things carefully, unlike the other passengers who already had quickly grabbed their bags and rushed to the exit. I wait for the large wave of people to subside before standing up and inching my way out of the door.

I've always loved listening to the sound of my sneakers crunching against asphalt, but I can never hear it here. There are too many people chattering and loudly strolling for me to hear it.

That's only one of the many things I hate about this place (the first of which is how its name sounds like some fatal, foreign disease). Still, I am forced to come by this station twice a day because I recently transferred schools to the one in the next town.

It's kind of a long story, but I'll tell you anyway.

You see, my mother is, um, big. Not like WWE wrestler big, more like sumo wrestler big. She's working as a lunch lady in my former school, and when the people in my school found out that she's my mom, all hell broke loose.

I'm exaggerating, of course. Still.

It was difficult for me to concentrate on my studies when my classmates kept throwing paper balls at me with jokes about my mom occupying two time zones written on them. That's why we both figured that it's probably best for me to switch to another school, one where I can learn properly.

One where no one knows about her.

Don't get me wrong; I love my mom, and I'm more than proud to be her daughter. In fact, I know that I can never ask for a better mother. It's just that, at some point in your life, you just have to accept that the world we're living in is not all marshmallows and rainbows.

The world is cruel. Get over it.

So there you have it, the reason why I have to endure a sharp pain in my butt—literally—every single day.

I run a hand down my cap and look around, searching for a familiar face.

There she is again. Or should I say, there she is still.

And by she, I meant the Latina who I always see, the only pretty sight in this damn wreck of a train station.

She's always there, just sitting in a bench and holding a thick, black notebook. Sometimes, she puts her reading glasses on and writes down on the notebook, but every few seconds, she'd stop and look around.

Like she's waiting for someone, and she'd miss seeing the person if she gazes down her notes a second longer.

I've always wanted to talk to her ever since the first day I saw her. Then, I thought she just happens to stop by the station on times that coincide with my transportation schedule.

But now, I realize that it's more likely that she's just always there, like, she just never leaves.

(To be honest, if she weren't wearing different, seemingly expensive, not to mention quite fashionable, clothes every time I see her, I would've thought she's a hobo.)

I've never had the courage to talk to her, though. It's not that she's that scary-looking. (In fact, she looks very breath-taking, like Victoria's Secret model kind of breath-taking, though she looks kind of aggressive.) And she also always looks so alone, and needing someone beside her.

But I just think I'm that someone.

So I just pass her by, but I do take a glimpse of her as I walk past her.

Someday, lady. Someday.

Day 333

Why does she look so familiar?

You guessed right; I saw her again.

I really think I saw her before, I mean not in the train station, somewhere else.

Screw it.

I take a deep breath before finally deciding to approach the girl.

"Hey," I greet before sitting next to her usual seat.

She looks up from her notebook. "Hey."

Thank God I look harmless.

"I, uh, I'm Marley." I say with a high tone at the end, which makes my statement sound more like a question.

"Are you sure?" She jokes, and I nod in embarrassment. "I'm Santana."

"I—I just… I always see you here."

She smiles. "That's because I spend most of my day here."

"May I ask why?"

Santana huffs and leans back against the bench. "It's… kind of a long story."

"I've got time," I shrug. "I don't really have any homework today so."

I see her bite her bottom lip as, I presume, she decides if she'd tell me her story or not. Finally, she sighs and says, "Alright."

I feel excitement rush through my body as she says that single word, but she adds, "But not now, though. I just… Can you come back tomorrow?"

I smile. "No problem."

"Okay, then," she returns my smile.

"See you?"

She smirks. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

Day 334

I skip—yes, skip—my way out of the train with a grin of excitement on my face. Last morning, we just waved at each other because I'm always running late.

But tonight…

I'll know her story. Finally.

Instead of a hello, however, she greets me by holding out a 50-dollar bill.

"Go to Coffee-gasm. Buy yourself anything." She says all of that without looking up from her book. "Get yourself a slice of cake or something, too. This is a long story. You'll get hungry."

I merely shrug and skip my way to the café that's only a few feet away from the station. It's a small one though it looks decent, but I've never entered it before because 1) I'm not really a big fan of coffee, 2) once, I was asked if I've had too much caffeine for breakfast because, I quote, "your eyes are like… so awake", and 3) the café's name is just so corny.

I savor the sweet—no, bitter—smell of the coffee shop as I wait for my latte and cheesecake.

"Anything else, Ma'am?" The guy behind the counter smiles widely at me.

"No, thank you," I politely reply. "I have a girlfriend," I add, after I see him scribbling his number on a piece of tissue.

It was a lie. and he's also pretty handsome; but he stopped writing, anyway.

"Oh," he mumbles as he crumples the paper. "That's cool."

I smile sympathetically at him before waving goodbye and exiting the shop.

"Done," I tell Santana, and sit down next to her. I take a sip of the coffee and almost moaned.

So that's why, I think as I remember the café's name.

"Keep it," Santana says when I try to hand her the change. "Did Ryder hit on you?"

"Who?" I say blankly, until I realize she's talking about the guy from earlier. "Oh, yeah. I think."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," I lied again. "Why?"

Santana chuckles. "Poor guy. He's nice, but I can pick up more girls in a minute that he can in his whole lifetime."

I raise an eyebrow questioningly and she finally looks up from her book. "Yeah, I'm gay. You could go if it bothers you."

"Nah, it's fine," I shrug. "Besides, I wants to hear your story, and I wants to hear it now."

At first, Santana grimaces, and I do too at how ridiculous it sounded from my mouth, but after a second, we both laugh.

She sighs. "Okay, okay, it all starts 'bout a little less than 13 years ago, when I was in high school…"

"Wait," I interrupt. "How old are you now? I mean, if I may ask."

"Just turned twenty-eight," she frowns. "Argh, I hate saying that."

"Shit," I blush as I unintentionally curse. "You look nothing older than twenty-three."

"I get that a lot," she winks. "Kidding. I'm assuming you're in high school?"

I nod. "Junior year."

Santana huffs. "That was a rough year for me. Got outed to the whole damn town when I wasn't ready yet."

"Lived in a homophobic part of the state?"

"Yep. Fucking Lima."

I cringe. "That sounds hard."

"It was," she agrees. "But that's another long story."

"Anyway," she continues, "to cut this story short, here's all you need to know."

She clears her throat and puts down her book. "There's this girl. Her name's Quinn. Quinn Fabray. Sounds snobby right? But yeah, I guess she kind of was. So, simply put, I fell in love with her.

"The problem is I shouldn't have. It wasn't that she's a girl. It's just she's completely straight. At least, then, I thought so. And she was my best friend. Well, at some point, at least. There were times when we slapped the shit out of each other's faces, stole each other's boyfriends, and slammed each other against lockers, but that's not because we hate each other.

"Maybe it's just that we're… too much alike. We were both bitches back in high school, being head cheerleaders and all, and I guess, we both wanted to 'out-bitch' each other.

"We also wanted to have the same things then—the boys, the popularity, and the power, because in high school, those are simply everything.

"But just graduation came around, we suddenly became closer. Maybe that's because beneath our rough exteriors lie sentimental bitches, or maybe it's just that we've been through a lot together.

"Then, our Glee club adviser, his name is Mr. Schue—like, Schuester and not, you know, shoe— had this wedding. I thought that joining that club was the worst decision I've ever made in high school, but it turns out that it's quite the contrary. It really changed my life, so I can't really skip his wedding.

"Except there wasn't any wedding at all. Though he did marry the same girl a few months later, at first, he was left at the altar. It was heartbreaking for all of us, maybe except for the bride's parents, but it was Valentine's Day then. It just made everything… suck even more.

"Anyway, since he's a good guy and all, he still wanted the reception to take place even if there's nothing to celebrate about really.

"And… That night, well, I was lonely, and Quinn was lonely, and we both didn't know how the hell that's even happening because, clearly, we're the hottest girls present, so…"

She trails out, and I smirk.

"Was it good?"

"Oh my God," she chuckles. "It was amazing."

"Then what happened?"

"It was awkward at first. I mean, I didn't even know that she was into that, and I was even convinced that it's only a one-night thing. But… I was wrong.

"We were just… happy. Even if it was never official, it was close. I was in love, and I didn't care about some stupid labels.

"She never really… declared that she's not that straight as everyone else knows, but she'd hold my hand and rest her head on my shoulder in public, and, to me, that was enough. More than enough, even.

"And then I messed up."

She stops there and takes a deep breath. She looks at me for the first time in an hour, then she grabs the styrofoam cup in my hands. She chugs down its barely-there contents before crushing it in her fists.

"Sorry," she murmurs. "I'll buy you another one."

"It's okay," I reply quickly. "It's almost empty, anyway."

I watch her absent-mindedly nod, with her eyes far away. She breaks out of her trance when I say, "You should rest. I'll come back tomorrow."

She hums in response, and I stand up and put my backpack on. However, I didn't expect her to stand up as well.

"What?"

"Sorry, I just thought that you live here. Practically."

"Usually, I stay here 'til after midnight, but I guess taking a break tonight won't hurt."

I wait for her to gather her things and we step out of the station together.

"Where do you live anyway?" I ask as we're walking.

"House nearest to the station," she answers simply. "I just moved there a couple of months ago."

"Wait, are you talking about the mansion?" I feel my eyes widen. "Like, this one?" I look up at the fanciest house I've ever seen which is just a few steps away from the coffee shop.

"Yeah," she breathes as we both stop in front of the gate. "See you?"

I just nod dumbly, still not over the fact that, gosh, all this time, this house was hers.

Day 335

This time, I already have a cup of coffee waiting for me sitting next to Santana.

"I figured you'd rather not see Ryder today," she explains.

I smile and thank her, and finally ask the question I've been wanting to ask her all night.

"What do you do?" I say in a rush.

"What?"

"Like, what do you do for a living?" I ask. "I mean, you, like, spend your whole day just writing in the train station. How'd you get that mansion? Did you like, inherit it? Or are you secretly a mob boss or something?"

Santana chuckles. "No, I'm not a mob boss. You see, this is why I like being a writer. You can do your job anywhere. Even in a damn train station."

"Oh," I say. "What kind of writer are you?"

"I, erm, write novels."

I'm thinking of a response when I realize…

"Holy shit! You're Santana Lopez!"

Santana shushes me jokingly. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Holy… I'm a big fan! I have every single one of your books. No kidding."

"Why, thank you," she laughs. "Normally, I'd ask which one's your favorite, but the truth is I'm really tired of discussing about my works."

"Your works? They're masterpieces!"

Santana bashfully runs her fingers through her hair. "Okay, enough about me. I want to hear your story."

Day 338

I didn't see Santana this weekend, and I miss talking to her already. Four days in, and it's already a big part of my daily—or weekday-ly—routine.

"Missed me?" Santana smirks.

"You wish!"

So I spend my weekdays talking personally with a world-class novelist.

Nothing special about that at all.

Day 341

"You never told me the actual reason why you're always here."

"The last time I talked to her, I told her she's welcome to come back in my life anytime she feels like it. I told her that I'd be waiting here when she comes back."

"And… How long have you been waiting?"

"Just a few months."

I raise an eyebrow.

"…Almost a year," she confesses.

My jaw drops.

Day 355

"How could you even stand this weather?" I ask Santana as I tighten my grip on my thick jacket. I'm wearing five layers of clothing plus gloves, a scarf, and a hat ("You finally took that damn cap off!") while she's wearing only three, I think.

At most.

And she's been here all day long.

"Hot chocolate," she replies. "And thinking of Quinn makes me feel warm all over."

I roll my eyes and chuckle, and she adds, "But mostly, hot chocolate."

Day 367

"I don't normally make friends, you know."

"What am I, then, some entertainer?" I chortle.

"You looked friendly enough," she reasons out. "Besides, I missed having someone who's just… there."

"I know what you mean."

"You always get what I mean, too. And who else would spend their days listening to my sad stories and rants?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm staying here for the cheesecake."

Day 385

I don't have any classes, so here I am, playing Scrabble with the same old girl in the same place. I want to spend time with her somewhere else, but her leaving the station is, of course, out of question.

"Maybe someday, I'll take you somewhere else," I say as I wait for her to finish her turn. "If Quinn comes back."

"When Quinn comes back," Santana corrects me. "Where would you take me, anyway?"

"I don't know. Maybe in a park or somewhere out of town. Somewhere happy."

"Yeah, you need that, too," she snickers. "I'd take you to the mall and buy you a new fucking cap."

When I reach out to shove her, I accidentally send the board game falling out of the bench.

"Crap."

Day 398

Some weeknights, I don't get to talk with Santana. (Who even invented homework?) I'd just walk to her and mumble "Algebra" or "Biology" or "school sucks", and she'd hand me my coffee and reply, "Wait 'til you get to college."

Some weekends, and even during vacation breaks, I still stop by the station to 1) talk to San and 2) ride the train to Kitty's city. (Oh, that rhymed.)

Some days, we'd talk about serious stuff (we must have the most "angst-ful" pasts and lives), but most of the time, we talk about random things like…

"San, if someone would serenade you, what song would you like them to sing?"

Santana has stopped laughing at the randomness of our topics; recently, most of the questions I've asked just to keep the conversation going just comes out of nowhere.

"That's a hard one, I love music." Santana stays silent as she thinks hard. "I think I'd like any romantic, happy song, you know, like, 1234 or We Could Happen. Just anything but Taylor Swift's."

"Why not?!" I pout. "She's awesome!"

"I know, but her songs are just… sad." She sighs. "Sometimes, listening about heartbreaks and losing someone without knowing if she'd ever come back can be tiring."

"I guess you're right," I just agree.

"How about you?"

"I think the sweetest song I've ever heard is Against All Odds," I answer. "And Distance, that's my favorite song."

"God, no wonder why you're so depressed."

"I'm not depressed," I argue. "I'm happy! I'm a very happy person!"

Santana scoffs. "Just because you're always smiling doesn't mean you're happy."

"How would I know then? How would I know if I'm happy?"

"When you're happy…" Santana stops. "When you're happy, you'll never feel empty anymore."

Day 422

"What do you think she's up to?" I ask as I munch on a cheesecake.

"Who?"

"Quinn," I answer. "Who else?"

Santana shrugs. "She's probably preparing for graduation. And the upcoming bar."

"She's studying?"

"Yep, in Yale," Santana says with pride.

"Why don't you just, you know, go to her instead of waiting here?"

"I told her I'd give her space. I told her I'd be here when she needs me, so there."

"If you say so," I shrug. "So she's busy."

"Probably."

"And you're still expecting her to, you know, come around during these times?" I ask, expecting her to say yes while finding it illogical. (I mean, she is here, right?) However, her answer is more heartbreaking than that.

"Expecting? No." She blinks. "But hoping? Always."

Day 446

"I never told you why we broke up," Santana says.

"You never showed me what she looked like, either," I add.

"I didn't?" She narrows her eyes. "Well, she's…"

"No, I don't want to hear you rave about how beautiful she is in your eyes or some cheesy stuff like that," I stop her. "Don't you have a picture of her?"

Santana slides her phone out of her pocket, presses and slides through its screen, and hands it over to me. "She's the one in the middle."

It was a photo of the two of them in their high school cheerleading skirts with another girl that I don't recognize, though they all seem close. "Who's this one?" I say, pointing at the taller blonde.

"That's Brittany, my bestfriend-slash-girlfriend before Q," she answers. "And the reason why we broke up. Well, not really, it's probably my own fault."

"Quinn's beautiful. What stupid thing have you done?" I say accusingly. "Aside from sitting here everyday waiting for her, I mean."

"I just thought first loves were forever," she huffs. "Thought I still loved Britts, but it turns out it's probably just… an aftershock, I guess."

"Why'd you two broke up?"

"Long distance," she answers simply. "I didn't want to tie her down, and so did she for me."

"And you're still friends?"

"Yeah, but not as close as before. People say exes can still keep their friendships, but they never tell you that it can never go unchanged."

"And Quinn was your bestfriend too, wasn't she?" Santana nods. "God, you never learn, do you?"

Day 489

"Don't you think you're missing out on a lot of opportunities?"

"Like what?"

"You know, instead of sitting here, you could use your time on, I don't know, travelling around the world or spending time in your air-conditioned mansion instead of this stinky place?" I try, and she laughs the same old throaty laugh she always does. "I mean, don't you think you're wasting your life?"

Santana stays silent, thinking of a good reply, then goes for, "But she is my life."

To be honest, I was really touched, but I just roll my eyes and say, "No wonder you're a writer."

"I was serious though," she continues. "I won't enjoy anything anyway while knowing that, while I'm away, she could be travelling to this station, hoping that I'd be there to welcome her back. So, yes, I'd rather stay here and hold on to the near-zero possibility that one day, she'd step out of that train and I'd be the first one she sees, than go somewhere else and have no chances at all."

I smile sadly. "That's deep."

Santana shrugs. "Do you think she'll ever come back?"

"It's been about a year and 3 months, San. She could've at least wrote to you or invited you to her graduation or anything." I say, and I watch her shoulders drop. "But I wish she would."

"She will," Santana murmurs. "I know she will."

"And if she doesn't?"

"Well, I might just marry you then," Santana jokes.

"But you're so old!" I leer.

"But hot, nonetheless," she counters. "And smart. And rich. And famous."

"And so modest, too," I reply. "What a catch."

"I couldn't agree with you more."

Day 534

I clear my throat. "Um, since I know almost all about your love story, I think it's time to tell you mine."

"Great! Finally! Go on, start!"

"So, err," I swallow. "There's this girl."

"Oooh," Santana smirks; I've never told her I'm into girls before. "Okay, tell me about her."

"Well, I can rave about her all day, but I'm just going to say that she's beautiful, kind of feisty but really a 'closet softie', and, whenever I talk to her, I just… never felt that happier before."

I expect Santana to tease me about being such a sap, but instead I just hear her slowly say, "Um, okay…"

It's only when I saw the half-nervous and half-horrified look on her face that I understood why she wasn't responding well. "Oh my Go—Santana, I wasn't talking about you!"

I laugh as Santana breathes out a sigh of relief. "Good. Stop laughing; I was just worrying about how to gently dump your sorry ass!"

As my laughing subsides, Santana tells me, "So, do you have a picture of her or something?"

"Uh, yeah…" I open my bag to retrieve my phone.

Santana waits as I search for the photo I'm looking for. "Here," I say as I hand her my phone.

"You stalker, this is a stolen shot," she says first, then she bites her lip and squints as she studies the image better. "Is it just me or does this girl look a bit like Quinn?"

I hum. "In a way."

"Quinn's prettier though," Santana mutters as she hands my phone back, and I just shrug.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," I recite.

"Okay, okay, no need to go all Dr. Seuss on me," Santana chuckles.

"Oh, and she's also a big fan of yours," I say, which makes a cocky smile appear on her face.

"What are you waiting for then? Go on and put a ring on it!" She jokes, and she adds, "Wait, does she even know?"

I shake my head slowly, and she frowns.

"That sucks."

"It does."

Day 556

I'm still half-asleep when my phone vibrates from the headboard.

"San?"

"She passed!"

"Wha-?"

"Quinn passed!" I can almost hear her smile.

"That's great!" I tell her. "Right?"

"Of course it is!" Santana confirms, but with less enthusiasm. "I… I'm happy for her."

I sigh. "I know you are."

Day 569

I look around and realize that something's really, really wrong.

Santana's gone.

I try searching for her all over the station, but no luck. After that, I try calling her phone, but it just goes straight to her mailbox.

I sit down in her usual spot, exasperated, and hope that she's okay.

"If I don't hear from her 'til tomorrow, she's so dead."

Damn, wrong choice of words.

Day 570

I'm just a minute away from calling the cops when Santana finally texts me.

It's not just any message though. All it contains is an attachment, and I smile when I see it.

A picture of Santana sitting in a what I'm guessing is a restaurant, with Quinn right beside her.

I would've cried for her instead of laughing, but when I noticed that Quinn's holding up today's paper like some sort of kidnapping victim got me.

I'm still staring at the photo when she sends me another text.

"I told you so."

Day 571

"So how did it happen?" I ask Santana on a late phone call. I told her she could call me when Quinn's asleep; I know Santana wants to spend every single second with her especially now. "Did it feel like time stopped when you saw her? Did she drop her bags and dramatically run to your open arms? Did you cry and tell each other how sorry you both are and how you've missed each other? Did you kiss her in fro—"

"No, what is this, a sappy romcom?" Santana interrupts. "But of course, for me, it was special. It's Quinn."

"Do you really expect me to believe that there was nothing else special about your reunion? Man, you waited for forever! Come on, tell me more."

"What, I'm telling the truth!" Santana laughs. "She just said she didn't want to come back without passing the bar first. She said, and I quote, 'I can't dance anything like B can, but I can recite a hundred articles from the Constitution. I hope that's good enough for you.'"

Day 572

I enter Coffee-gasm, and it's a good thing that's the place is small. That way, I didn't have to search hard to find Santana.

She smiles when she sees me and gestures for me to sit down in front of her and Quinn.

"You must be Marley," Quinn says once I'm seated. She reaches out her hand for me to shake.

Her voice. Damn.

No wonder Santana's fallen head over heels for this girl.

"And I'm guessing you're the Quinn Fabray," I say as I shake her hand. "Gosh, you're gorgeous," I breathe out, and my face heats up as those words slip out of my tongue.

"So are you," she smiles. "I love your eyes," we say together and laugh.

Santana clears her throat and we both turn to her. "Please tell me you're not falling for each other or something."

"She's stunning," Quinn shrugs. "You sure you never hit on her?"

Santana shakes her head. "No, Ma'am."

"Not once?"

She shakes her head again. "Not once."

"Well, I would have," she winks at me and I blush while Santana frowns. "That's if I weren't so in love with you already," Quinn says as she pinches Santana's cheek.

Santana pouts. "Great, because her girlfriend looks a lot like you."

"She's not my girlfriend!" I argue.

"Yet," she counters and sticks out her tongue.

"You're still so childish," Quinn sighs. "And weird," she adds and turns to me. "Imagine my surprise when she asked me to take a picture with her holding a newspaper."

"What? It's cute, though, wasn't it, Marley?" Santana asks me, and I nod. "See?"

"You're cute," Quinn sneers. I grin at their cuteness before looking at my watch.

Shit.

"Going somewhere?" Quinn asks me.

"I'm… supposed to be meeting Kitty."

"Running late again?" Santana comments. "We won't keep you long then."

"Psh, she just wants me all to herself," Quinn leans towards me and whispers, though it's still loud enough for Santana to hear.

"She's right, though, I really should get going." I direct my gaze away from my watch and to Quinn and say, "It was nice meeting you."

"Same. Take care, okay?"

"Will do." I grin. "Goodbye, then."

"Call me when you're free!" Quinn calls out when I'm already in front of the door and humorously blows me a kiss, and I blush for the nth time for the last few minutes.

"She's kidding!" Santana says, and Quinn rolls her eyes as she takes Santana's hand.

I turn around after waving at both of them, and chuckle when I hear Santana silently (and worriedly) mumble, "You weren't serious, were you?"

Day 734

"Hey, Marley!" I'm walking to the train when I hear a familiar voice calling my name. I turn around and wave back at Santana as I start to walk towards her.

"Didn't expect to see you here," I say when we're close enough to talk. "You okay?"

"More than okay," she enthusiastically answers. "I just wanted to give you something."

I raise an eyebrow when she hands me something wrapped in rough brown paper. "What's this?"

"Remember when I told you I was working on a book? You know, the second time you spoke to me?" I nod. "Well, I was lying. I did bring that notebook with me so I could write, but, at that time, I didn't have anything good to write about. I mean, yeah, I could've written about a girl staying for 16 hours a day in a train station, waiting for her lost love, but I didn't know how I could do that in a special way."

"I'm guessing you already did?" I tried, gesturing at the wrapped package.

"You guessed right!" She grinned. "But I couldn't have done it without you, so I wanted you to have a copy before everyone else does."

A giggle escapes my lips before I wrap my arms around Santana's shoulders. "Thank you."

"No," she says as she hugs me back, "thank you."

I pull away after a few moments. "This better have your autograph in it."

Santana smirks. "Yep, on the first page."

"With a message?"

"Uh, no."

"Not even a 'Hi, Marley' or something?" I frown.

Santana chuckles. "Eh, something like that, I guess."

"Awesome." I pumped my fist, which makes her laugh. "I have to go now, though."

"Oh, that's cool. I have a date in an hour anyway." Santana smiles shyly.

"Again?"

"Yep, just making up for lost time."

"Okay then," We say goodbye, and I take a few steps before walking back. "Oh, Santana, can I ask for a favor?"

"Name it."

"Uh, can I have another copy? With, um, a dedication for Kitty?"

I blush as Santana grins smugly. "Sure. Text me later when you're coming home."

"Thanks," I breathe and wave goodbye before jogging back towards the train.

Once I'm settled on my seat, I open the package carefully, as if the wrapper's part of the book I've been given, gently removing the tapes off of the brown paper first before pulling the novel out.

"Oh, God," I whisper as I see the phrase engraved on the cover. "Always," it says in big, curvy letters. On the background is a dull sketch of the backs of two girls sitting on a bench.

Wait.

And that's me, right on the cover.

Jesus.

My smile widens after I flipped to the dedication page.

"For Quinn,

for whom I've waited for 568 days,

and for Marley,

who made the last 247 of those bearable for me."

AN: One-shot? I guess. :P