"Why don't you just come out of the closet?"

Santana forced herself to look unfazed. Under no circumstances should she look the least bit effected by those spoken words. Besides, this was Finn Hudson speaking. It isn't as if everyone in the world can hear his tiny voice. She can say that to herself all she wants though, nothing is going to change all of the eyes watching and necks turning to judge her.

Thousands of emotions swam through her head and most of them she wasn't even sure of herself. When her steps stopped it wasn't of her own accord. She couldn't seem to help it though; her legs numbed as she felt her heart begin to beat like a war drum within her straining chest. Her palms were sweaty as she clutched her books with whitening knuckles.

"You know, I think I know why you're so good at tearing everyone else down," Finn started again, much to Santana's horror. "It's because you're constantly tearing yourself down because you can't admit to everybody that you're in love with Brittany and she might not love you back."

"And I would totally be with you if it weren't for Artie."

What about me? What about all those memories we shared? What about all those hugs and kisses, laughs and tears? What about Santana? All of the things she meant to say but only one name could make it's way out victouriously.

"-Artie?"

Santana could hear Brittany's gentle voice chime little echoes throughout her head like silver bells haunting her to her very grave. If she fluttered her eyes shut right now she could still be able to witness Brittany stand before her, replaying that horrible scene in her life over and over again without a single flaw. Brittany has yet to break up with that damned cripple. What if—what if she really loved him? What if she has moved on from Santana and graduated as an independent person just as Santana had feared?

"That must hurt, not being able to admit to everyone how you really feel."

Finn wouldn't stop. Santana didn't understand why he was doing this; how he could be so cruel. Sure, she insults him on a daily basis but she knows no better. After being grown up in a harsh family with sharp tongues and viscous words, she can't be completely blamed for her actions. Not even all the good in Brittany could teach her the manners that were never taught. Maybe Brittany is just simply too good for her. She is too good for a failure like Santana.

"You know what I think you are?"

A whore. A skank. A bitch. An undeserving child. A monster. The most horrible person to live. A demon. A prostitute. A disgrace.

"A coward."

Santana tightly held her phone in a twisting grip as her hand trembled. She was so desperate for Brittany than she has ever been in her entire, horrific life. Brittany had to pick up, she just had to. The bathroom tiles were so cold against Santana's bare legs, the wall just as chilling against the tan skin of her back. She isn't exactly aware of how she got into the bathroom clad in only a bra and panties but she was there. Horrible paranoia of incredible standards chased after her shadows and crept up behind her every waking moment.

All of the faces in the hallway were still peircing her with their eyes, even in the sanctity of her own home. They aren't there in reality but now Santana finds it to become harder and harder to distinguish reality from fantasy. All the fantasy stories she ever read to Brittany had happy endings though. Where is Santana's happy ending? Will Brittany pick up the phone?

"Hey this is Brittany I'm not at my phone but I'm probably with Santana so please leave a message after the beeeeeeeep!"

Santana screamed, tears rolling out her reddening eyes as she threw the phone straight at the door in front of her with full force. The device cracked a significant amount, leaving the phone useless. Not like Santana would need it anyway. She was going down—alone.

Her dark eyes bulge wide as her shaking hands gradually rise to her messy hair. If only Brittany could see the pathetic mess she is right now. Brittany would most likely not even be able to notice her at all. Her version of Santana is strong and leading, not dying trash; a rotting corpse of a teenager that couldn't handle the littlest thing.

"Fucking Artie," Santana grunted under her heavy breaths, hands twining painfully into her hair. "What is so fucking special about him! I don't understand. Brittany—Brittany was supposed to love me."

Lashing her fist down against the tiles, she allowed the side of her hand to begin to bruise. The pain was releaving, draining in its ways. She kept that thought in mind as she gradually rose and sauntered over to her bed. Physical pain is much easier to take than emotional pain. She could tell you that anyday without a second of the slightest hesitation.

She slept that night curled up in her own misery and sobs. The blonde that was once always holding her in tender arms from behind had faded away. She was left like worthless rubbish, scattered in pieces that shattered by the second. There has never been a night so dark and chilling. Tomorrow would be a new day.

That's what she likes to tell herself.

Santana's pearly white sneakers slammed and twisted against the school's flooring as she sprinted away from the scene as fast as her body willed. There was no glint of hope left for the girl. Now she is truly done for good. The commercial was already released, baring her true character for all of Ohio to mock, judge, and ridicule. People soon wouldn't want to even glance in her direction without having their porky faces twist as if she is the most grotesque beings they have ever seen.

She spent the day in her room with thousands of photos of her and Brittany throughout the years scattered about the floor. Brittany's face has always looked so surreal over the years. Santana wondered for a second what the blonde might be doing. She was undoubtedly with Artie, her most loving boyfriend.

There was a time when she was more than a lover to Brittany. Santana was her guardian, her best friend, her everything. They had a bond like no other in Ohio. Maybe there wasn't even a connection as close as their's throughout the whole universe. The clock is ticking extremely loud now. The phones calls and threatening messages are piling up with every stroke of the second hand. How has it come down to this?

Santana needed to confront her. Santana needed her to make the decision.

Running out her front door into the freezing night, Santana raced down blocks and shrugged past flickering street lamps every turn. Her pants came heavily though she remained determined. She felt no pain in her body after all, she was completely numb. Somewhere—somewhere in the back of her head she already knows what will become of this fateful night. She had doubt in Brittany.

There are very few times that Brittany has actually been there. Some of the times Santana simply wouldn't allow her to be there in order to keep her reputation as Brittany's strong half. Other times she just wasn't there.

When finally the Pierce household came to view Santana could already feel the tears and barely see in blurred vision. If God really did exist he would let this happened. He would grant poor Santana a miracle that would save her life. He would let Brittany be there this one time. Only this one time. That's all Santana needs.

With her lean body, Santana heaved herself up the nearest tree to Brittany's window. This used to be usual routine, of course until the boy appeared in Brittany's life. Brittany was going to pull through. She had to pull through. Santana silently prayed, prayed in desperate words.

Desperate words only to fall upon deaf ears.

Her body went almost completely limp as she witnessed from an outstretched tree branch Brittany and Artie snuggled up watching the blonde's favorite Disney movie. Brittany looked so happy, so content in staying with this boy as he did her. Santana could almost feel Brittany's head on her shoulder, her arms wrapped around her waist. It wouldn't bother her so much if the blonde didn't look so peaceful. Not that she doesn't want to see Brittany in peace, but to see her so brilliant lit with another soul was just so devestating.

She wonders if she has ever made Brittany that happy before. No, she couldn't have. She would still be along her side if she did. No, all she gives Brittany is pain and confusion. She doesn't deserve Brittany. Not the least bit. Artie deserves Brittany. He's such a kind boy. Santana likes to tell herself that.

And just like that Brittany made the decision for Santana without doing a single thing.

Brittany made the decision.

Santana brought herself carefully down from the tree and began the slow, trekking travel back to her home. The slow steps leading to her death; her own funeral march. She appeared similar to the sight of a mindless zombie romaing the night alone. Her heart was homeless and her senses were numbed. There are no more emotions left to feel but those of negative and drainging. She feels like a black blotch in a beautiful, colorful world. She was the flaw in the universe and she would be kind enough to remove herself and save everyone the trouble of her existance.

"Don't you go off worrying about me, Britt," she cooed to herself, as if reasurring the blonde like she once had a time ago. "Everything will be better this way. Any other way would hurt me. You wouldn't want me to hurt. Right?"

A dark chuckle left Santana's lips. It was like a horrible joke that has now shown to be true. She used to tell herself she would never let that blonde get the best of her. Thoughts like that ended a long time ago. Brittany had had the best of Santana.

She also left that part to rot.

Santana wasn't sure how she ended up back in her bathroom in only a bra and panties once more. At the same time she was also so aware of why she was there. So it doesn't really matter how she got there, it only matters that she is there. Pills in one hand, a bottle of vodka in the other.

She chose to not leave a letter for every answer would be answered the second everyone saw the commercial if they already haven't. Brittany deserved a letter. Brittany deserved more than a letter, but Santana gave none of it. She merely left a message to Brittany's cell using her home phone that would explain everything to the blonde before anyone else.

"Hey this is Brittany I'm not at my phone but I'm probably with Santana so please leave a message after the beeeeeeeep!"

Santana opened her dry mouth for a moment before weakly closing it. She closed her eyes and took a shallow breath before continuing with the strongest front she could put up. Even her strongest front was the weakest, diminishing voice to be heard the night.

"I—I'm so sorry, Brittany. I r-really am. I wish—I wish I could say goodbye to you in p-person. I wish I could see your s-smile one l-last time. I had so—so much to explain but t-time's up. Goodbye, mi amor..."

Santana closed her eyes. The phone fell from her weak grasp before she could hit the end buttom. She let it lay there. She counted to three in her head. She took the pills. She poured the alcohol down her throat. Then, she let her body do the rest.

Brittany snuggled into Artie's side a bit more as the credits rolled up the screen. She let out a happy sigh with a giggle. He smiled to his girl.

"I really love that movie," Brittany whispers earnestly. "I lost count of how many times Santana would watch it with me. Even since we were so little our hands were tiny nubs and still to today she will. I swear she will."

Artie let the blonde mumble and tried not to let it get to him. He had no complaints though, for the blonde has not even contacted Santana for about a month now. Even when they do talk it's only a little until he comes. Brittany is like a little love sick puppy for him. And he indulged in the fact.

"Have you spoken to Santana at all?" He asked, only to make his girl smile at his sympathy.

Suddenly the blonde felt really guilty. Realization washed over her as she can't even recall her last conversation with Santana. Her big blue eyes went wide as she suddenly got up from her position and searched the room for her phone.

"No! I haven't in forever," she cried, slightly distressed. "Ohh! She is probably soooo mad at me. Like rocket fire mad."

"I'm sure she's fine," Artie tried to comfort her.

Brittany felt off for some reason. The friendship chain on her wrist felt very heavy and dull. Something was wrong, she just knew it. Artie switched back to normal television to watch some sports game. The show was interrupted by a commercial as always. Brittany only faintly listened until her ears perked up when she heard talk of her coach.

Her heart stopped. Turning to the television, she saw a picture of none other than Santana next to a rainbow heart and the lesbian symbol. Her heart sunk and her stomach felt weak. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Artie couldn't say a word, either.

The commcercial ended and it took Brittany a few more seconds to smack back into reality. Adrenaline was suddenly rushing through her veins and her awareness ugraded tenfold.

Glancing down, Brittany finally found her phone and fell to the floor just to pick it up. She felt weak—she felt many things. But most of all, she felt uneasy for her Santana. And herself, at that.

Turning on her phone, she waited patiently. Then she saw it. Twelve missed calls.

One voice mail.

She tapped the screen of her phone with a shaky thumb. She didn't even know why she was so scared but in the back of her head she did. But she couldn't believe it. She wouldn't believe it. Not yet. Not like this. Not as she listened to the whole message; hearing the breaks and desperation in Santana's angelic voice. She had never heard a person sound so weak and helpless in her life.

Dialing her friend's number at lightening speed, she was only met with: "Hey, this is Santana Lopez. I'm not at my phone, I'm probably with Britt-Britt. If you got the wrong number fuck off. Leave a message after the beep."

Brittany dropped the phone and went for her jacket. Artie picked himself up in alarm.

"Where are you going?"

Brittany looked up at Artie with such intensity in her blue eyes he thought she was going to murder someone.

"You know where I'm going. I'll be right back. Just—stay here."

Artie couldn't protest for Brittany was already out the front door in a dashing race.

Her luscious blonde hair bounced with her sloppy sprint. She was petrified and for what reason she had no idea. Santana was her life; more than a best friend, more than a sister, more than a lover. Santana was Brittany's everything and for some reason the world seemed to be the most darkest it has ever been. The night felt like a chilling creature of such solitude and darkness that there was no end to it. Brittany feared the darkness even ate the sun with its intensity.

She felt the cold prickle at her nose and cheeks but paid no mind to it. Her priority was Santana and Santana only. When finally the Lopez household was in view Brittany felt a gruesome chill run down her spine.

Bursting through the front door, she clambered up the stairs and sweeped into Santana's room. The girl was nowhere to be found. Brittany's eyes frantically glanced around the area until they landed on one bathroom door light was on.

Brittany rushed over to the door and banged down upon it with a furious fist. Her legs felt wobbly but she forced them to stay planted to the ground as she bombarded the door with demanding knocks.

"Santana! Santana!" She cried, worried to death. "SANTANA OPEN THE DOOR GODDAMMIT! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!"

Bracing her body, Brittany slammed herself completely into the barrier. The door knocked open. Ignoring the throbbing pain in her side, Brittany rushed over to the unconscious Santana. Cradling her to herself, Brittany soothed her dark locks and rocked back and forth.

"Santana it's time to wake up. Wake up, Sanny. Wake up," Brittany whispered, staring at the tiles with wide, watery eyes. "Do I have to kiss sleeping beauty awake?"

Brittany peppered unending kisses to Santana's dry, almost colorless lips. She didn't stop, she wouldn't stop until the girl finally awoke.

"Wake up. Wake up. Sanny, you have to wake up. This isn't a joke. WAKE UP. SANTANA. PLEASE, PLEASE WAKE UP! SAN, I CAN'T DO THIS. Oh God, please wake up..."

Santana remained dead in Brittany's shaking arms. The blonde could only stare ahead at the blank tiles with creased brows and horror written along her delicate features. She hardly blinked her eyes were so wide.

Ambulance sirens could soon be heard flashing by. Artie must have called them after hearing Santana's message to Brittany. It was already too late, though. It was far from too late.

Santana did go down alone.

Brittany remained after the funeral was over. Not many showed up—at least that weren't forced. The Glee club members were all there, of course. Sue showed up with her herd of Cheerios, most of them leaving early. Santana's family had paid for the service though never showed up. Not even her abuela, the closest person Santana had other than Brittany, didn't show up.

Finn had his head down the entire duration of the service. He was lucky Brittany didn't kill him. Quinn just held herself together through it before the second everyone was to depart, then she broke down completely. Even Puck was in tears.

Artie decided it best to give Brittany her space for even he knew the strength of what their relationship once was. He had to admit he did admire them and how they have managed to stay together for all those years. Friends are a nice thing to have. But Brittanys and Santanas? Those are hard to come bye. And they're the best thing to have.

Brittany leaned against the cold headstone while on her knees, eyes delicately closed. The sun was setting off beyond the trees in a beautiful sight, showering an orange tint about the somber area. A stream glows down upon Brittany's skin and illuminated her body. The warmth faintly felt like Santana holding her. It was so soft, so unbelievably tender and cozy. No body would ever fit so perfectly into Brittany's like Santana's did. No, they were the perfect fit.

"I really miss you, San," Brittany whispered in a light voice, tears still running down her rosey cheeks. "I miss you so much..."

Her arms came around the stone as if it were Santana herself and Brittany clung to it like it was her life. Which, it now was. Or what it once was.

"You looked so beautiful today, you know?" Brittany tried to chuckle and force a smile. "You were sleeping beauty. I swear it, San. And I was—I am your prince charming. When you didn't wake up—when you didn't wake up that was when I knew everything was all fake. There are no fairies, no creatures in the garden; no magic in the world. You were the magic in my world, Sanny. It was all you..."

Brittany took a deep breath before continuing.

"I promise to visit whenever I can. I will become super famous, just like you said I would. I won't let anyone forget about it," Brittany assured. "You're going to be in all of my interviews. I'm going to dance for you every show. You will always have my heart, San, I swear—I swear it."

Brittany hardly tried to fight back the tears.

"I just wish you would hold me one more time," she whimpered very, very weakly. "It can be so cold. Hold me. Promise you'll hold me when I need you to. Just like you used to."

There was no response. Brittany simply sat in the warm touch of the sun and imagined Santana. She stayed like that for an hour until the sun went away to sleep. She should do the same. She placed one final kiss to the stone, leaving a whimper as she pulled away and covered her cold mouth with disbelieving hands. If she read that name too many times she would surely go insane. Santana was truly gone. Forever lost in the warmth of the sun.

Fives years later, Brittany had made it big. She actually made it. It was unbelievable her success. She traveled the world, dancing along side the most popular performers. And she kept to her word, too. Every dance, every perfect movement, was only for Santana. That was why she was so good; that was her secret ingredient.

Santana was mentioned in every interview. Reporters and paparazzi grew interested in this mysterious Santana and Brittany was always eager to share their story with the world.

"I'm her prince charming. I am. And she was the most beautiful girl—ever. She was and still is everything to me. I know she is watching over me, too. Sometimes, when it's real sunny, she comes down and hugs me. I can feel it; no one else fits so perfectly to me. We—we were one of a kind. I visit her for every anniversary. I will fly back and forth, no problem. But I must see her on special days. Like—like the anniversary of our first kiss, the day we met—the day she died. I'm always there."

It was a horrible car accident. Brittany got caught between a truck and Volvo with one wrong turn. One simple wrong turn during a very hectic night. She was nearly cut in two, half of her stomach torn. It was too late to save her.

Her funeral was an incredibly somber affair; her character once so bright and innocent now lost to the world. The whole Glee club even returned, along with her dancers, and her family with many more to follow. She was buried nowhere other than next to her dearest Santana. Any other place would have been wrong.

It was a pity to see such a talented girl die so young. Then again, only the good die young. It was such a shock to see Santana's parents and even abuela attend Brittany's funeral. They stood next to Santana's grave for the duration of the whole service, tears in their eyes for multiple reasons that can never be rationalized for it is beyond too late for anything more.

Everyone departed afterwards, letting the two girls rest in peace.

Though, every now and then visitors say they see two young girls embracing faintly in the sunlight when shown at the right time.

So I did go back and add a few more touchups and fixed a few mistakes. I actually really liked writing this, not in like an emo way but emotionally. I hope you enjoyed reading it. You should watch the video: Santana Lopez / "Why don't you just come out of the closet?"

That little video inspired this.