santana and brittany

happiness

Brittany's Point of View

So, I left.

After that Santana went downstairs and a few seconds later I walked out. I went back to my mom and dad's house, got my stuff, and got on the next flight to New York.

I'm not gonna lie. It was nice to be alone. The house to myself with no noise. Maybe I did feel trapped but not with Santana. I felt trapped with dancing and I needed to get away from it.

I went to the hair salon and go rid of my bangs, cut it a little shorter, and got my roots colored a dark brown. It was time for a change.

Christmas was lonely. Santana put the tree up before she left and I put all of the gifts I got for her underneath. I saw gifts with my name on it but I didn't want to open them without her being her.

We didn't talk much. I mean, I was only gone for two days and then she came back late last night, which was the 26th, and I didn't say anything because I pretended to be sleep. When I woke up this morning she wasn't in bed or in the house and I for a second I thought I dreamt her coming home until I got up and saw that she fed Lord Tubbington.

What I said to her was really fucked up and I know that. I don't know what made me say that. It's just that this whole thing with me being a dancer makes me feel some type of way and I took it out on Santana which was wrong.

I'm not dumb. I know that Santana is mean to everyone but me (even though I think she should be nice to everyone) and saying mean things like that is usually her thing but she still tries. And I know being with me isn't easy and being with her isn't easy, but, like we said at our wedding, we're both a work in progress.

But, I'm better now and I'm ready to fix anything that I broke.

*

Santana ❤️
hey, come to the studio

Me
okay

*

I've come to this studio before to bring her food or a smoothie but I've never actually hung out. I don't wanna distract her from doing what she does.

When I walk in, Santana is laughing with some guy who's sitting behind a computer. She looks at me and her smile gets smaller and it turns into a grin.

I will never get tired of talking about how beautiful she is- - no, beautiful doesn't do her justice. They need to make a word just for Santana because no other word can describe how beautiful my wife is.

She's wearing her glasses, and we all know how we feel about that, and her blond hair that's turning dark brown at the roots is up in a messy bun. She's wearing a Thrasher hoodie over a pair of ripped blue jeans.

Her head tilts to the side as she walks up to me. She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me into a very tight hug, one that I've been needing for a long time. I wrap my arms around her waist and bury my face in the crook of her neck. We stand like this for a few seconds before pulling away.

"Okay, so," She says as she pulls me over to the couch, "I told you to come here because there's something I want to tell you but I can only sing it. This is the song that plays in my head every time I kiss you or hug you or think about you. It's our song."

"Is it My Cup?" I ask as I sit down on the couch

Santana laugh, "No, Britt."