"I can't keep doing this."

"W-what? What do you mean? I thought we-"

"No. There wasn't… There was never a we, okay? …I gotta go…"

"B- Wait-! Santana I don't-"

"I'm sorry. I'm just not…I'm just not ready."

That had been two weeks ago, and Rachel was still just as confused and shattered as ever.

It hurt. It hurt so, so much, and what made the ache nearly unbearable was that she had to see them together. Every day. As if everything was perfectly fine and happy and Santana hadn't smashed Rachel's heart, and wasn't grinding her heel into it every time she did anything with Brittany in public.

And it just stung so damn bad.

You said you weren't ready, she thought to herself angrily as she tried to focus on retaining a calm exterior while all but throwing her books into her locker at the end of the day. You said you weren't ready, but what you really meant was that you couldn't bring yourself to be out with a loser. She felt her throat constrict and froze for a moment, biting her tongue and closing her eyes as she took long, deep breaths. She needed calm down. She needed to keep herself together and just hold her head up high. She needed to-

Laughter drifted down the nearly empty hallway and her chest tightened like a vice grip. Against everything in her body telling her to just not look she couldn't help it. Turning her head just down the hall, Rachel dared to allow her gaze to fall on the cause of it all; Santana Lopez, with Brittany Peirce, kissing, and holding each other, and laughing, and just-

She needed to find a bathroom. Or the auditorium.

Choking back the sob that was determined to make its way known, Rachel hurriedly closed her locker and all but raced past the couple, doing her best to ignore the painfully casual "Hey Rach" from Santana and Brittany as she sped by.

The moment she was in the safety of the dark wings the singer broke, collapsing in a corner hidden by the secondary curtains and sobbing, even as she tried her best to swallow it all down and keep the tears from flowing.

It's not fair. It's not fair. I want to hate you, Santana. I want to hate you so bad and I can't and I hate that too.

"Fuck you, Santana Lopez," she whispered harshly to the empty air between the whimpers and tears. "Fuck you."