Chapter Text
Chapter 1
It’s pretty late when I wake up. The alarm clock that Berry bought for me — which is overly over the top like she is as it has a nightlight feature and even a rotation of broadway songs that wake you up — has just surpassed 1am. I can hear Lady Hummel sleeping in small, high pitched snores while David Schwimmer and her soon to be husband, Lumps, are on the phone, giggling as she kicks her feet back and forth.
I sigh, my hands on the back of my head, while watching a small fly flit from corner to corner on the ceiling. Looking over to my desk, a pile of unfinished assignments and open study books invade it, reminding me that I have case brief I need to complete. Law school is such a drag, but at least it’s better than being a starving artist like Berry. Hey, you gotta love her ambition because she’s got a lot of it. The Olsen Twins were begging me to join NYADA with them, but I told them that I don’t want it to seem like I peaked in high school and that I’m trying to cling onto what’s left of ‘Glee’. They understood, but they still hope I’ll magically change my mind like some of those convenient plots on Disney Channel.
Seriously, this apartment is a hundred percent gay and I only make up, like, twenty percent of it.
Half an hour’s passed and I no longer feel sleepy, so i get up to interrupt Berry’s phone call with Finn since I’m bored and have nothing better to do. As I enter her room — which is very poser-y with Streisand obsessed posters, awards on every wall, shelves of Broadway records, so, all in all, it basically looks nothing different to what her bedroom looked since she was 5. She glances at me then back at her phone.
“I’ll call you back tomorrow, okay? Alright, love you,” she cheeses out and hangs up, all giddy it’s making me sick. I won’t admit it ever, but I’m happy that Berry’s found someone as insufferable as she is. It’s nice to see that love actually exists.
“How’s the fiancé?” I ask, not interested at all as I sit on the edge of her bed, plucking a frayed string from her blanket. I like her room at night since it’s way cosier and laid back than in the day. Plus, her lamp makes a nice orange light and it makes me glow.
“Oh, he’s just wonderful. You know, he’s at this nice college and he’s been working real hard, plus-“
“Okay, I get it, Finnocence has really manned up since high school,” I cut her off, but she’s used to this kind of thing now.
I can’t believe it, but I think I might actually be jealous of Berry. She’s got this loving partner who’s really dedicated to her, she’s pursuing her dreams and doing really well, but if that wasn’t enough, she’s genuinely happy with the life she has. Me on the other hand, I’m studying friggin’ law. Santana Lopez, studying law. Seriously, it’s just like studying Puckerman — dumb and really hard.
“Santana?” I jump back to life. “You’re blanking out on me. Why’re you up so late?”
“Studying.” I answer quickly, which isn’t a complete lie. I have been really busy studying lately — this was just one of the nights where I wasn’t up until 3 trying to perfect an essay.
“Seriously? This late?” Rachel’s concerned as usual. I just roll my eyes and invite myself to search around her room, which is mostly full of old photo albums and playbills of every musical she’s ever went to see.
“Yeah, like most nights,” I reply quietly, flipping through the pages in one of her older photo albums, until I stop at a page with her and Quinn. They’re both grinning and their fingers are intertwined. “Hey, look at that, it’s you and Fabray.” I hold it up like I’m trying to prove something.
“Guess so,” she mutters underneath her breath, her cheeks visibly redder. “Speaking of, aren’t you trying to get into contact with Quinn again? For coffee, I think?”
Nodding, I place the book back on the desk, my eyes still stuck on the Polaroid. How long has it been since everyone’s met up and reunited? Even the closest people haven’t spoken in forever, with the exception of me, Kurt and Rachel and some of the couples like Tina and Mike. Besides me and Fabray, no one else has tried to reach out. It’s weird.
But it’s too late to be hung up on nostalgia. Putting the album back into its shelf, I yawn a goodnight to Rachel before heading back to my room. As I lay down, the clock strikes 3:30am. Crap, I only four more hours to sleep. Whatever, sleep schedules are overrated anyways. I close my eyes, the world around me feels like it’s quieting down, before fully being engulfed in a deep sleep.
*
“Santana! Wake up!” A shrill voice screeches for me to wake up.
I slowly blink to see Lady Hummel at the edge of my bed, an apron wrapped around his slim waist. What time was it? Stretching my arms above my head, I slowly walk to the bathroom, brushing past Kurt like everything totally casual. I look into the mirror, my hair a mess and my eyes puffy and tired. Jeez, that’s a statement look if I’ve ever seen one. Slipping off my clothes, I wrap myself in a towel. Kurt barges in like he’s just solved a major drug bust. Luckily, I wasn’t a moment off, because if I was Hummel would’ve seen all my lady parts.
“God, Kurt! Talk about privacy!” I exclaim, shooing him out as best as I can. Hummel’s usually really dainty, but recently he’s been kind of hitting the gym and he’s got this slender muscle build, like a gay elf.
“Oh please, you know I’m not into that. Plus, the amount of times you shamelessly change in front of me is absurd,” he snaps back dryly, rolling his eyes as he reaches for the gel. “And anyways, you’ve got that thing with Quinn. That’s why I was trying to wake you up.”
Oh. Oh, yeah, forgot about that.
With such speed, I managed to shower under 10 minutes, scrubbed my teeth clean, brushed my hair, and put together a somewhat cohesive outfit before beginning to find my keys. Like always, Kurt’s always a step ahead and throws them to me like the angel he is, while also spritzing me with one of his favourite scent. I smile, before leaving the apartment and headed to my car. I sprinted down the stairs, then unlocked my car. It’s a second hand Volkswagen Jetta, so you can’t complain. It’s a relatively warm day, the leather seat sticking to my thighs as I started the vehicle, it’s engine coughing to life. Speeding through the busy New York roads, I finally make it to my favourite local coffee shop, which is pretty cheap for New York standards and it’s got a nice atmosphere. After parking my car, I enter the cafe, searching around for Quinn.
“Santana, over here!” She waves her arm.
I walk on over, barely able to smile, “If it isn’t Yale’s newest Barbie, Quinn Fabray.”
We order a few drinks and two meals for us both. The first few conversations are awkward, which is to be expected since we haven’t seen each other since our McKinley days. But inevitably, after we caught up to speed a mutual feeling of normality was reached.
“Yeah, psychology is great but tiring. But still, it’s pretty great,” she grins, spinning her fork in her green pasta. “I mean, it’s Yale, you know? I can’t really bitch and moan.”
“Well, do you actually like it?” I find myself blurting out. It’s a rude question, but I’m too tired to even say sorry.
She gives me a look, before nodding, “Yeah, it’s actually kind of healing. What about you? How’s law?”
I pause. I mean, nobody’s actually ever asked me that. My parents assume it’s going amazingly and Kurt and Rachel think I’m throwing away my talent, but I’ve never thought about how I feel.
“It’s okay. The debates are fun sometimes and the lectures aren’t all that bad.” I reply flatly. Quinn just gives me that look that means she’s not buying anything I’m saying. At all. “What? It’s good for like, taking out your anger or something. That’s healthy, right professor?”
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. My father taught me that move. Every time he got too defensive or someone brought up a touchy subject, he’d close himself off, not only mentally, but physically too.
“Look, from a psychological standpoint-“
“Oh great, we have a second Mrs. Pillsbury.” I roll my eyes.
“-I would say that you’re doing something you don’t love. The impacts of that are extreme. You’re already showing signs of burnout and I’m concerned that they’re going to transform into either a heavy resentment to yourself and others or depression,” she waits a beat, then continues. “From a friend’s standpoint, I’d say you’re probably going to kill yourself from all that caffeine you’re drinking to keep up. Sleep is a natural caffeine in my opinion.”
“I- what?” I say incredulously, my eyebrows scrunching together.
“Your dark circles are showing. Like a lot.” she scoffs like it’s a basic skill to know when somebody’s been hooked on coffee and deprived of sleep. It’s not my fault I have to cram all my revision into my head. “Anyways, Santana, don’t take it as criticism, since I know you will. All I’m saying is that you need to stop plunging deeper into denial.”
“Look, I’m in law school. So what if I’m a little tired? It’s law school,” I replied sharply, like what I said explained everything. “Stop diagnosing me as if you’re all fixed.”
“I’m not fixed though, I’m just being honest with myself after years of pretending I’m someone who I’m not,” she shrugs, her voice genuine and steady. “It’s a breath of fresh air - stops the bullshit from frothing out your mouth. You should try it.”
“Sounds gay,” I mumble under my breath, not enough anger to fuel my words as it used to.
“It’s always the stubborn exterior with you, Santana,” Quinn sighs, taking a small sip from her herbal tea. “You’re always fighting someone, sometimes it’ll even be yourself. I just hope you’ll let somebody in, even if it isn’t me.”
Okay, so that’s not fair. Her words are straight to the point. Like a bullet ricocheting into my chest, piercing it deep. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to admit to my parents, let along my abuela, about who I am. Sure, my friends know, but it’s just a matter of time before my family gets involved too. And I don’t know if I’ll have a fraction of the strength to see their disappointment if I ever stop studying law. An unsettling silence set between us, all we could do is exchange small glances.
“I miss who you used to be.” Quinn finally say out loud.
“And who exactly is that?”
“Santana Lopez, the girl who wouldn’t rest until she got what she wanted. You used to cut any bitch off who’d try to stop you. Now you’re just some random following orders that you don’t even like.” she says blatantly, staring at me with her angelic eyes.
Oh my god, I just hate when she has feigned innocent look painted on her face. She sits up, scribbles a signature in the bill, before standing up, sweater in hand. I lean back, my arms folded tighter than ever.
“I’m going now, but I’m staying in New York for the time being,” she says politely, as if she didn’t hit me with a total bombshell. “I hope you’ll want to meet up again. Bye, Santana.”
So now I’m left alone, silent and angry. Like old times.