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Santana has always tried to be careful whenever she gets too touchy-feely with Brittany. Like, she'll make a point of not holding her hand for too long, and she'll wait until they're in the privacy of one of their bedrooms before kissing her the way she really wants to, all soft presses and affection. But everyone seems to notice anyway. She hears them whispering about how the two of them sneak away after putting on a show at some house party, lewd glances tossed their way like their primary purpose isn't to be walking, talking human beings but rather to be the centerpiece of everyone's else's entertainment.
It stings, even when she pretends it doesn't.
It kind of makes her never want to tell anyone about how she really feels under all that 'get boys hot and make them buy her stuff' bullshit.
Santana groans and flops down on her bed. Not that she has to worry about those looks pointed toward both her and Brittany anymore. Brittany's stupid fixation with robots or whatever landed her right in Artie's wheelchair, and Santana nearly gags at the thought. Freaking charming. To top it all off, Brittany had just confronted her about their relationship being confusing, asking her to talk about feelings and all that crap she barely understands herself.
A knock at her bedroom door pulls her from her thoughts.
"Santana!" her brother calls out from the other side. "You seen my PSP?"
"No, go away!" she calls back.
But her brother takes to pounding on her door with his fist, so she gets up and swings the door open.
"Get lost, Diego."
Her nine-year-old brother looks up at her. "Can I take a look in your room?"
"No," she replies, giving him a gentle push. "Now get out of here before I kick your ass."
Diego crosses his arms over his chest. "You're just cranky because you're fighting with Brittany!"
Santana bristles. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm not fighting with Brittany."
Her brother stands his ground. "Oh yeah? Then why's she never sleep over anymore?"
"She has her own house, her own bed. I'm not her keeper."
Diego's slender shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "You're supposed to spend time with your girlfriend."
"I—Brittany isn't my girlfriend," Santana hisses, pulling him into her room and closing the door so her parents don't overhear. She hears her own heart pounding hard in her chest. "What the hell, Diego? She's not my girlfriend."
"I saw you kissing her the other day," he tells her. "You shouldn't kiss people outside your family unless you want them to be your girlfriend."
"I didn't kiss her." The denial sounds empty even to her own ears.
"Did so. I saw you. You don't have to be embarrassed, Santana. I won't tell mom if it's supposed to be a secret."
"No, it's not… it's not like that. It's not a secret." She's so fucking tired of secrets. Santana bites her lip and sits down at the edge of her bed. Unexpectedly, tears prickle against the backs of her eyelids, and she takes a deep breath to calm herself, hating that her brother is standing witness to her cracking under the pressure of the past few weeks.
To Santana's surprise, her brother steps closer and takes a seat next to her. His hand wraps awkwardly around hers. It's comforting, despite how tiny her brother is, how young.
"I think I love her," Santana says after a moment. She laughs tearfully, her heart twisting at her own words. It's the first time she's admitted it to anyone. "Do you know what that means, Diego?"
"That you want to spend a lot of time with her," Diego answers. "And I guess kiss her and stuff."
"No, I mean… if I'm in love with a girl, do you know what that makes me?"
Diego scrunches up his face in thought. "Dunno."
"I'm gay." She says it so quietly, she's not even sure if her brother's heard her. Heat creeps up her neck, and she takes a shaky breath. "If you tell mom or dad, I'm gonna skin you alive."
Her brother is still holding onto her hand when he asks, "Does Brittany know that you love her?"
"I don't know," Santana mumbles. "She's with Wheels now." Her head snaps up. "Hold up. Did you even hear a word I just said?" She pauses for emphasis. "I like girls."
Diego shrugs. "Well, yeah. You've been kissing Brittany for years. Anyway, if you love her, then you should tell her."
"I can't."
Without letting go of Santana's hand, Diego rolls up his sleeve and reveals an ugly, misshapen bruise. Before Santana has a chance to speak, he explains, "Ryan wouldn't quit picking on the new kid and calling him names. I said there's nothing wrong with bein' gay, and he punched me."
"Diego…" She's full-on crying now, tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping onto her lap.
"Don't be scared, Santana."
Diego stays with her for a few more minutes before he lets go of her hand and tells her he has to go find his PSP. She pulls him into a hug he resists, but when she whispers against that she loves him against his hair, he echoes the words back to her.
As soon as her brother leaves, Santana wipes her damp cheeks with the back of her hand and grabs her iPod off her nightstand. She slips in the earbuds and pushes play, waiting for the music to drown out everything she's feeling.
But fuck it. If her kid brother has the courage to stand up to a homophobic bully, then Santana has to find the strength to face her own fears. She grabs a pad of paper from her desk and shuffles through her music library, jotting down songs that remind her of her relationship with Brittany. It's cliché as hell, but it's a start. If Brittany wants to talk about feelings, Santana's gonna suck it up and talk about feelings. Or sing about it, because Glee club's really grown on her.
Three hours and five notebook pages later, she's narrowed it down to one song.
"But time makes you bolder," she sings quietly to the empty space next to her, "children get older, and I'm getting older, too."
fin