*0*0*

Sometimes in the dead of night, with the moon high above the city, Santana would think of Rachel. They had been best friends, they had grown up together and been inseparable but then things changed, and it had been so long since she'd seen her face in person.

Oh, Santana still saw her, she was everywhere. She was on billboards, she was in movies, she was in TV shows, she was in commercials, and she was in high demand. Like everyone predicted, Rachel Berry went on to succeed at everything she wanted and more. That was no surprise to Santana, as she had known as much since they were kids.

In that very first dance class where they became friends, Santana knew this girl was special, talented. It may have taken her years, ten more years exactly, to realise just how special the girl was, and how much Rachel meant to her, but she had always known.

There was no denying the talent in Rachel's voice, and the fact that she was loyal, trustworthy, and gorgeous to top it off, made it almost impossible for anyone to ignore the fact that she was going places. Santana could only hope, back when she was twelve and coming to the realisation that friends don't always remain that way, that she would forever be in Rachel's life.

Of course, her twelve year old self had no clue what was coming her way, and Santana would shake her head an bite back a wince at what that poor, innocent, girl would come to experience. It really should have been obvious, just like Rachel's stardom, but it hadn't been, and in doing so, Santana couldn't prepare for the train wreck that awaited herself.

*0*0*

It had started innocently enough. All the girls in her class were talking about how cute Noah Puckerman was, and Santana could only scrunch her nose up in distaste. Puck wasn't cute, he was a menace. He thought because he had a Mohawk and could steal chocolate bars from the store downtown that he was a bad boy.

It just made no sense to her.

They gossiped about him for weeks, going on and on about his good looks and how they were desperate to kiss him, but he only went after older girls. The thought of kissing brought up another barrel of issues, because truth or dare meant either doing something embarrassing or lying outright when asked 'which boy do you most want to kiss?'

Santana didn't want to kiss any boys. She didn't want them anywhere near her. Boys would mess up her friendship with Rachel. She had seen it happen, had heard from Quinn how her older sister, Frannie, wasn't speaking to her best friend because they both liked the same guy, and Santana thought that was ridiculous.

Best friends not talking because of a boy? They had to be morons. She'd never stop talking to Rachel because of a stupid boy, especially not Noah Puckerman.

And the worst thing about that sleazy pig was that he went to temple with Rachel, and their families hung out together. He was always around her, complimenting her, and it was disgusting. Though, why it boiled her blood so, she didn't know.

She just didn't want to lose her best friend, that was it.

Or rather, it wasn't.

During another boring round of truth or dare at the grand age of thirteen, Santana came to a startling discovery. The question was so common, but for some reason, when asked, it felt different. It had been different, it hadn't been so specific, and when Santana's mind had wandered, she knew exactly who her answer would have been.

Who would you like to kiss?

It was so easy, as if the answer had been staring her in the face the whole time, and without meaning to, Santana's eyes had looked to her left at the girl she was thinking of. Rachel was oblivious, too busy wiping down the creases in her skirt to think anything of what was going on. Typically, Santana always said Puck just to shut everyone up, and that's what she did that day, too.

The thought had stuck with her, though. How could it not?

She wanted to kiss her best friend! That was huge! Her female best friend!

Yes, they were close, and they had been through everything together, but this was different. This wasn't just being friends anymore. This was being more than that. This was kissing, and possibly even dating. Kissing Rachel, dating Rachel!

It should have terrified her, but it didn't. It made her chest ache and her heart race and God, she had a crush on her best friend.

There was no other option than to bury this knowledge. No good would come of Rachel ever knowing, and that's exactly what Santana did. She buried her feelings, hid them under her questioning sexuality, and pretended like nothing had happened.

So maybe on their movie nights, when they were curled up together on the couch or in bed, she would get the overwhelming need to hold the other girl, and maybe, her eyes would linger a little bit on whatever outfit Rachel was wearing each day, and maybe her crush continued to grow, whether she liked it or not.

The two of them went on to battle high school, struggling at first but coming back together in the end, and finding their own paths within Cheerios and Glee. Their friendship was mismatched, and had they met in high school, Santana doubted them ever being friends, but they hadn't, and this was still the little girl who had stood awkwardly at the edge of the dance class while all the pretty white girls played together. This was Rachel, the girl who had never let her down, and for that, Santana could never fathom losing her friendship.

It wasn't until March 16th, when they were both fifteen, that their friendship was really put to the test, and in turn, Santana's crush.

She knew the day would come where she'd have to listen to Rachel talk about boys and crushes, but it hadn't happened, and she was thankful. But of course, Rachel had walked into her bedroom looking nervous and Santana immediately needed to know what was wrong, so she could fix it, so she could help her.

"Finn Hudson tried to kiss me," Rachel whispered, looking around like someone else was listening.

"What?" Santana sat up straighter on her bed, her hands gripping the comforter tighter with each passing second, and she waited for more information.

She had to have heard wrong. She had to have. Those words couldn't be what she thought they were.

"He tried to kiss me. I didn't…I turned away, but now all I can think about is what if he does it again. I know most people our age have had their first kiss, but I haven't, and I want it to be special. I don't want it to be some sloppy and wet mess beneath the bleachers after football practice where he smells foul and I'm scared of being seen. I want it to means something," Rachel stressed, biting her lip.

Santana tried not to whimper in pain, her eyes stinging from an onslaught of emotion she wasn't expecting, and her chest aching. Her throat felt like it was closing in, and she licked her lips and swallowed, trying to find her voice.

She knew this day was coming, she really did. She just hadn't expected her crush to have grown into adoration for the girl before her, and she hadn't expected for Rachel's words to cut her so brutally. God, she was in love with her. She was in love with her and yet Rachel was talking about Finn fucking Hudson.

But then she shuffled on her feet, and Santana realised that she was scared. She had never been kissed, had never kissed anyone, and she was worried about it. Her best friend was once again that little girl awkwardly standing off to the side in the dance class, and Santana wanted to come to her rescue again.

"You want it to be special?" she found herself asking, slipping off the bed and coming to a stop in front of her. Rachel nodded in reply, and Santana took a second to just think over the next words that were about to come out of her mouth. They could change everything, but maybe they'd actually do some good. Maybe…maybe this was her shot to show Rachel how she felt. "Could I make it special?"

Rachel frowned at Santana's words, and Santana tried not to let this deter her as she moved closer. Once within a foot of her, her eyes ghosted over Rachel's features, and God, this girl was stunning. Licking her lips, she awaited Rachel's response, her heart thumping wildly in her chest, her palms becoming clammy, and this had to be the most nerve-racking thing she'd ever done.

Giving Santana a soft smile, Rachel licked her lips and nodded, her hand reaching out to hold hers. That was all Santana needed before a smile graced her lips and she closed the distance, carefully, slowly, allowing Rachel the time to back out, just in case.

Feeling Rachel's lips against her own, Santana fought another whimper, this time for entirely different reasons. She brushed her lips against hers, taking her time to be precise, to go slow, to make this as perfect as possible; and then she felt Rachel smile into the kiss, kissing her back. Santana could feel Rachel opening up to her, kissing her again, wanting this moment to last, and then Rachel pulled back.

The butterflies were still fluttering in Santana's stomach, her heart was almost beating out of her chest, and she could feel her chest heaving as she smiled back at Rachel. It was impossible not to, not with those eyes shining so brightly at her, and that smile making her giddy.

"Thank you," Rachel whispered, her forehead leaning against hers. "That was perfect."

Unable to help herself, Santana's smiled beamed in return, and she sent a silent thanks up to whoever helped her pull that off. It could have gone horribly, and that's not even counting the kiss, but Rachel was still looking at her like she'd just come to a realisation Santana had years ago, and it filled her heart with hope.

All she wanted to do was ensure her best friend was happy, and if she got to be happy as well, that was a bonus.

Expect, that happiness didn't last, and Santana always thought of herself as an idiot for believing for one second Rachel had actually returned her feelings.

On March 17th, Rachel had broken her heart, crushed all hope, and helped seal Santana's fate. She kissed Finn fucking Hudson under the bleachers after football practice, and when Santana found out the following day, she decked the boy in rage.

As her fist connected with his face, she spat angry Spanish curses at him, and threw all her rage and pain into making him suffer. It really hadn't been his fault, but he'd kissed the girl she was in love with, and she hated knowing she'd always be the best friend, never the lover.

The suspension was completely worth it.

*0*0*

From that point on, everything went downhill.

Santana could recall those years with a forlorn expression, and she'd subconsciously run her fingers over her knuckles in the process. The happy and hopeful child of before was gone, and in its place was a lost and broken one, set out to self-destruct.

She was out of control, but she had stopped caring. She had stopped feeling altogether, in fact. As soon as she'd worked out how to acquire alcohol or steal from her parents liquor cabinet without them knowing, a welcomed numbness took over, and she no longer had to feel the devastation Rachel had left in her wake.

Santana never blamed her for the heartache, and she made sure that she was still there for the other girl. She was desperate to stay in her life, to be around and be a part of it, even if that meant listening to Rachel talk of her new boyfriend Finn, or how they just celebrated their one year anniversary, or how they'd just started having sex.

All of it, it destroyed her, piece by piece, until she just couldn't cope.

The bruised knuckles and the heavy hangover were a way of extinguishing the pain inside. If her hands hurt and her head ached, she couldn't feel the pain in her chest every time Rachel kissed Finn, or every time she told him she loved him. Her heart continued to break, and it was almost too much to handle, but if there was one thing Santana knew, she could not survive without this girl. She adored her, she belonged to her, whether Rachel realised it or not, and she could not part with her.

So yes, she drank and then went out and picked fights. She drowned herself in alcohol and broke her fingers, her ribs, her heart each night over and over again because all of it was better than having to face the fact that her best friend would never love her back.

And the worst part of all, the one that made her sob uncontrollably, was that Rachel did everything in her power to help Santana. She would clean up her cuts and ice her bruises, she would nurse her after a particularly bad hangover, and she'd kiss her forehead goodnight when Santana found her way back to her.

Never once did she say enough was enough or threaten Santana to cut this out. It was if she knew that whatever Santana was dealing with was beyond Rachel's purview, and best to leave it alone. On some nights, Santana was thankful for this fact, and on others, she wasn't.

She just wanted Rachel to see her for who she was; who she had become; hopelessly in love and out of control because of it.

Their friends had no problem seeing it. They all knew. Even Rachel's boyfriend was aware of Santana's feelings for his girlfriend. And while they did try their best to help her out, encouraging her to move on, it was never enough.

They never really understood that Santana hadn't made the choice to be in love with Rachel, she had just found herself down that ditch, and she couldn't get out. She kept trying, but it was an impossible task, and the booze felt like a ladder when in fact it was a spade, and her fists felt like they were climbing, when in fact they were digging.

*0*0*

New York changed things for them, for Santana in particular, and it was the last stop on the derailing train Rachel and her had been on since March 17th, all those years ago.

It had actually felt like a fresh start for Santana, and she remembered the optimistic views she had of living with Rachel. She had hoped that being with the girl twenty four seven would maybe have Rachel seeing her in a new light, a more than a best friend light, but that wasn't the case.

She tried, for months she tried to quit her old ways. Santana stopped drinking, stopped fighting, and focused on the brunette tucked up at home, and did everything in her power to make this start the right start.

They explored the city together, and they found routines at home, with movie nights and drink nights, and if Santana squinted, she could imagine it as her life, coming home to the one she loved, the one that loved her back in return.

Then Finn Hudson would walk in their apartment, kiss his girlfriend hello, and Santana's mood would fall to pieces. Rachel would stay over at his apartment, and the silence would eat her up. She'd watch movies alone, wondering and pining after the girl who was tucked up in someone else's arms.

It was torture, which was made even worse when she began to learn what Rachel's post-sex smile looked like. She'd wear it the following day like a badge of honour, and it would crush and destroy Santana's soul.

To combat it, to act like it didn't bother her, Santana sought out her own comfort. Somehow, at the end of the night, she'd have her arms around a small brunette, each with their own story to tell, but their similarity enough to make it work.

She'd feel sick the morning afters, but they'd look at her like they knew all along, like they could see she was a lost cause, and then they'd walk out of the apartment to be forgotten about. They were filling a void, or they were meant to be, but it just wasn't working.

Santana would always end up thinking that Rachel just needed more time; needing to live in her state of denial, but even that bubble was doomed to burst. And burst it did.

Rachel innocently mentioned how next year she wanted to get a bigger place so that she could live with Finn, and most likely Kurt, too. That was when it all crashed in on Santana. The hole she'd been stuck down caved in on her, burying her beneath years of heartache, and she couldn't stop the fallout.

The alcohol numbed her, and she could drown herself in a bottle without thinking anything of it, as long as it eased the pain, anything to ease the pain. Then the fights, they released the anger, the pure agony at the injustice of the situation. And last, but not least, was the newfound appreciation for the many girls that looked like Rachel enough to have Santana kissing them soundly, and worshipping until morning.

Like the ones before them, they never lasted, and by the next night, she had enough booze in her system to find another, to drown her sorrows, and to fight her way into a broken bone. It was what she knew, the only coping method she had, and she couldn't give up on it, because that meant accepting that Rachel would never love her the same way.

But due to her actions, to her carelessness and incompetence, apartment life became strained, and Santana realised that she had turned Rachel's fun college experience into a living nightmare. It was all her fault, and she needed to rectify it.

There was nothing much left in Santana's life; having dropped out of college and devoting all her time to trying to numb herself completely. It wasn't working, but she was still trying. Only, she couldn't keep putting Rachel through that.

It wasn't her fault Santana had been unable to control her feelings, therefore she shouldn't have to be punished by enduring her presence any longer.

"It's not working anymore, is it?" Santana had asked, taking a seat on the couch next to Rachel as she finished up something for her classes.

They had been tiptoeing around each other, and it was becoming more and more obvious that there was no place in Rachel's life for Santana. They had lost that bond, the one that had them striking up conversation and becoming best friends. It had vanished into thin air.

"It wasn't meant to be like this," Rachel then admitted, shaking her head. Santana agreed, because it wasn't.

When she thought of New York, with Rachel, she certainly didn't have this picture in mind. It was that thought that had her working quickly to pull up her mask, to hide the tears in her eyes, and to act like this was the right thing to do.

"I'll pack my things and be out of here soon. My parents have paid everything in full, so don't worry about rent." She'd never leave the other girl out of house and home, and it was the least she could do.

"What are you going to do?" Rachel asked, making Santana wonder the same thing.

What was she going to do?

At the time, she didn't have a clue. She knew that she needed to leave, to let Rachel have the life she deserved, but she didn't know what that meant for her. They had always been Rachel and Santana, Santana and Rachel, and now they weren't going to be. So what did that mean for her? Where was she going to go? What was she now going to do?

Could she even do anything, or would this finally be the last nail in her coffin?

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." It was a pathetic lie, but she didn't want to worry her. Santana shrugged and pretended like this was nothing, hoping to leave it at that, but Rachel had other ideas.

"But I do worry about you, Santana. I do worry!" she cried, her hands slapping her knees loudly in frustration, which took Santana by surprise. Then Rachel shrugged her shoulders, looking away, as if she didn't know what to do next. But her words had brought up so much.

She worried, she cared, and yet it wasn't enough. It should have been enough. Friendship should have been enough for Santana. But it wasn't, and it never wold be. She was finally aware of that fact, and it made her want to break down and cry, confessing everything so she could salvage this, but it was already too late.

"And that's the problem, Rach" Santana whispered, looking off into the distance, lost in her own thoughts before making her leave.

Rachel cared and she worried and she loved Santana, but she wasn't in love with her, and she never would be.

*0*0*

Quinn came down to help Santana move out, and she had never been more thankful for keeping that friendship alive since graduating. The girl had been a lifesaver, fully aware of what Santana was going through, and offering support to help her out.

It was her who suggested Santana start fresh after moving out. She was allowing Rachel to have a fresh start, sans Santana, so why not one for herself?

It was perfectly good logic, but Santana knew that she wouldn't be able to move on without getting help. The girls, the fighting, the alcohol, all of it screamed a recipe for disaster, and when she confessed as much, Quinn was quick to think of solutions.

They were taking Santana's things from her apartment, which Quinn would take up to New Haven and house there, while Santana sought treatment. The blonde's connections had come in handy, and Santana's parents' money had helped. She was finally trying to get herself out of that ditch, and she was hopeful she could do it.

But first she had to say goodbye to Rachel, which was something she never thought she'd be doing.

They had already gone through an awkward conversation, and a moment of gut wrenching pain when Rachel tried to return Santana's old Cheerio top, before Santana admitted defeat. The t-shirt had wounded her, making her heart heavy because it felt like Rachel was trying to remove her from her memories.

That t-shirt, that silly t-shirt, was more than just Santana trying to make Rachel feel better for not making the Cheerios. It was more than a best friend trying to comfort the other while they were down. It represented everything they stood for; Santana trying to make Rachel happy, doing whatever she could for the girl she loved.

So by trying to give it back, it was almost like Rachel was saying she didn't want her love, in any capacity, and Santana couldn't stand to be in the same room as her anymore. She needed to leave before she broke down. She'd promised Quinn to see her at the car, and she intended to keep that promise, even if it was only an excuse to keep herself composed.

"So…I'll see you around," Santana mumbled, frowning at the words spilling from her lips as Rachel stood across from her, t-shirt on the counter next to them.

Heading for the door, Santana stepped out into the hallway and then turned back. She'd heard Rachel following her, to show her out, and she wondered if Rachel was going to say anything in reply.

"Yeah, maybe," Rachel answered, beginning to shield herself behind the door as she went to shut it. "Take care."

"You too."

The words stung, but Santana nodded slowly, as if letting them sink in, before turning and walking away. Her feet grew heavier with each step, and her brain was screaming at her to stop, to think this through. She was walking away, she was walking out of Rachel's life. Why the fuck was she doing that?

She hadn't tried. She hadn't tried hard enough. Maybe if she just came clean, if she confessed to having feelings for her, things would be change. Maybe Rachel felt the same way and was just scared. Maybe all Santana had to do was take a chance.

She couldn't walk out there without doing so. She'd never forgive herself if she did.

Stopping, she turned back around, and she met Rachel's gaze.

It unwound her, breaking her heart into pieces, with her love spilling out between them.

"I love you," Santana said, tears in her eyes, fear on her face. She'd gone for it, and she could only hope and pray that it worked out.

"I know," Rachel said, sounding concerned, but she must have misunderstood. This wasn't a friend saying goodbye to another. This was a friend confessing their darkest secret, casting it into the light for judgement.

"No, I love you, Rach," she repeated, trying hard to get her to understand what she meant. Her heart was in her throat as she watched Rachel swallow, then she opened her mouth to speak, and just like that, it was done.

"I know. And I'm sorry."

It was at that moment, the wind was knocked out of Santana's sails, and she felt her head getting light, her vision blurry, and this excruciating ripping pain up her chest. It was almost like someone was clawing into her chest, and she wanted to fall to pieces right there and then, but she didn't dare.

"Right," she mumbled, licking her lips once, her eyes dazed and unfocused. She needed to leave, but how could she. She could hardly see, let alone walk. Rachel's concerned look, however, was enough to make her find the energy to get out of there. "I'll be going then."

She didn't hang around. She didn't look back over her shoulder. She didn't stop. She walked right out of Rachel's sight, and right out of her life. She'd tried, and she'd failed. They were never meant to be more than what they were, and Santana was never meant to remain in Rachel's life, no matter how much she wished to.

*0*0*

That was the last time Santana had seen Rachel in person, and with every new billboard and every new commercial, she couldn't help but think of her. It was impossible not to. But as she did, she felt that craving in her throat, and she'd caress her knuckles softly.

She was better off without her. They were better apart.

Those were the words Santana told herself, anyway, as she looked out over the city she loved, seven years after the fact, and wondered what if things had been different. What if they had kept in contact? What if Santana had told Rachel of her feelings sooner? What if Rachel had been in love with her, too?

Where would they be now?

*0*0*