Romance in the Rain (Quinntana)

Ch. 21 Departure

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Central Park

"I'm not going!" Santana snapped, shrugging Sam's heavy hands away.

"Stop struggling, will you?" Sam scolded as he dragged her along. "I'm taking you to Rachel, not Quinn. We've been running our tails off for you the whole morning. Listen to what she has to say."

"Santana," Rachel greeted hesitantly.

"If you came to persuade me, forget it," Santana said coldly. "I'm not in the mood to listen to Quinn's stories."

"Have you ever kept a diary?" Dark brown eyes snapped up to look at Rachel, they were filled with pain and anger. "A diary only reflects how one feels in a particular moment," Rachel continued. "It's a way to vent emotions and sometimes it may be exag-"

"I don't need this lesson," Santana inhaled sharply. Rachel looked ready to interject, but Santana continued, her voice slightly weaker. "I'm done... I'm exhausted... I-I don't love her anymore," she muttered before taking off.

Taken aback, Rachel clutched the small green book a little tighter as she stared after Santana's retreating figure.

Sam placed a hand on his girlfriend's shoulder. "It's no use going after her. Let's try again in a few days."

"A few days?!"

"Don't be so impatient. Quinn is strong, she can wait a few days. Besides... if Santana really doesn't love her anymore then there's nothing we can do."

Rachel sighed, shaking her head.

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Abrams/Lopez Flat

Artie paced around the living room, exasperated. He'd spent the entire day babysitting Santana and now, against all common sense, she was using her injured hand to let her frustration out on the punching bag.

"You smashed a mirror yesterday and now you're smashing the punching bag! Have you not caused enough chaos?"

Santana ignored him and carried on.

Artie puffed out air as he continued to watch her, appalled. A knock came at the door and he sighed in relief, he prayed to the universe that it was Quinn. But alas, his face dropped when a different blonde came into view.

"What are you doing here?" he scolded the visitor. "You didn't even sleep last night. Go home!"

"Don't look so excited to see me," Brittany jested, stepping inside the apartment. She peered over his shoulder to find Santana repeatedly striking the punching bag and she quickly crossed the room to intervene, shooting Santana a dubious look.

Santana shifted uncomfortably and avoided looking at searching blue eyes. "I wasn't in my right mind last night. I did something inappropriate... I'm sorry."

Brittany shook her head, motioning for her to sit down. "Let me see your hand."

"I'm fine."

"Let me see it," Brittany said sternly.

Santana reluctantly complied and settled on the settee.

Brittany began untying the boxing glove around her wrist before carefully taking it off. She gasped at what she saw. Santana's hand had bled through the layers of gauze and stained them a bright red. Tears prickled Brittany's eyes at the sight.