Honey, No Regrets

I Don't Want To Do This

Lima Ohio

2012

"What do you want from me, Brittany?" Santana walked back to her dresser and glanced back at Brittany through the mirror.

"I want you to get it through that head of yours that we can do this, we can handle the distance! If we love each other, we can do this, Santana!"

Brittany cried.

Tears welled up in Santana's eyes. She couldn't help but feel her heartbreak seeing her girlfriend like this. She took a deep breath and braced herself for what she was about to say next. "I don't want to do this."

Silence.

Santana heard a sharp gasp from Brittany; by the time she turned around to take her words back, Brittany was running through the door. Santana listened to the front door slam downstairs, and her icy look

turned to pure regret and heartbreak. She wrapped both arms around her stomach and crouched down. It was over.

Los Angeles

2015

"Can we take this from the top, please?" Santana gritted her teeth in frustration. She took her headphones off and reached for her bottle of water. She was glaring at Puck, her producer, throughout the whole sip.

"San, we were really on to something there. It sounded perfect."

Puck was Santana's first friend when she moved to LA. They both met each other with such dreams and aspirations. But who knew that night when they were at the bar, both after taking turns talking about which girl they would instead take home, that they would accomplish those dreams. Together.

Santana put her headphones back on. "Not good enough, Puckerman. Somethings not grooving right with the song. The feelings not there." She looked at her lyrics. "It's missing something."

"Hm, maybe emotion or tears? But you don't have those, do you?" Puck grinned his sly douche bag grin, and Santana threw her open bottle of water at the glass in the recording booth.

"Fuck you; you can be such a dick," They both chuckled. Dry, grim, and raunchy humor, that's the recipe for their beautiful friendship.

"Oh, a dick, huh? Well, I've got something for.."

"OKAY! If you're finished with whatever this is, Santana has a photo shoot to get to." Quinn stepped into the studio, never looking up from her iPad, typing away. "So if you'll just excuse us."

Santana looked at Puck and shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry ass face, we'll have to continue this lovely conversation another time." She grinned and grabbed her scarf and sunglasses. Puck frowned and waved them off while turning back to his computer. Quinn linked her arm with Santana's and dragged her out of the room, heading toward the studio's elevator.

"Jesus Q, where is the fire?" Quinn never stopped looking at her iPad but gracefully pulled them into the elevator. "Uh, earth to Quinn.." Santana's brow furrowed. Quinn's face was stoic. "QUINN FUCKING FABRAY!"

Quinn's head snapped up, and she looked at Santana.

"Are you in there, Q?" Santana's face relaxed, and she smiled a tight-lipped smile.

"Oh no, I'm fine... I'm sorry I was-" Quinn paused for a second, then shook her head. "I was just dealing with some business, that's all."

Santana nodded and stared forward. The doors to the elevator opened, and they both popped on their sunglasses. As soon as they walked out of the front doors of the studio, paparazzi swarmed them.