Darkness Unravelling
Brittany had always known when something was off with Santana. She could read her like a book; understand the little shifts in her body language, the faintest tremors in her voice. But now, it was like Santana was slipping through her fingers, and no matter how hard Brittany tried, she couldn’t hold on.
It was subtle at first. A flash of something dark behind Santana’s eyes. A stiffening of her posture when a conversation went a little too deep. But soon, the cracks began to widen, and Brittany saw the real change.
They were in the studio, working late on a new track. Brittany was trying to keep things light, joking about some ridiculous lyric they had written earlier, but Santana wasn’t laughing. She was pacing, her movements sharp and jerky, as though she was trying to outrun something.
“Hey, Santana,” Brittany called out, concern threading through her voice. “You alright?”
Santana’s back stiffened, and she froze for just a moment before turning around, her face a mask of forced indifference. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... tired.”
But Brittany could see it. The way Santana’s fists clenched at her sides, her jaw tight, like she was holding back something, something dangerous.
“Santana,” Brittany said softly, taking a step closer. “What’s going on with you?”
Santana’s eyes flicked to her, and for a split second, the façade cracked. There was a wildness in her gaze, something feral and out of control. It sent a chill down Brittany’s spine, and before she could react, Santana had turned her back to her, shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping herself in check.
“I’m fine,” Santana repeated, her voice a little too cold, a little too sharp. “I just... don’t want to talk about it.”
Brittany didn’t push it. She knew better than to force Santana to open up when she wasn’t ready, but the pit in her stomach only deepened. There was something far worse than just stress in Santana’s movements. It was like she was battling a storm inside her, and Brittany didn’t know how to help.
Days passed, and the tension grew. Every time Brittany tried to reach out, to offer a friendly word or a joke to break the ice, Santana would pull away, sometimes physically, sometimes emotionally. And yet, she would return the next day as if nothing had happened, her usual sarcastic self, her charm intact.
But it wasn’t the same. Brittany could tell. She could feel it in the air between them, in the way Santana’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes anymore, in the way she avoided looking at Brittany for too long. It was as if she were hiding something. And no matter how many times Santana pretended to be fine, Brittany knew, something was very wrong.
Then one night, the tension finally snapped.
They were at Santana’s apartment, working on a new song idea. It was late, the city lights filtering through the windows, casting shadows across the room. Brittany was sitting on the couch, strumming her guitar absently, trying to focus on the music and not on the way Santana was pacing again.
The air was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of everything that had been building. Brittany had almost convinced herself it was just her imagination, that maybe she was reading too much into Santana’s strange behaviour.
But then it happened.
Santana stopped in front of her, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her whole body was shaking, her eyes wild as she looked down at Brittany. There was nothing playful in her gaze now. Nothing teasing. Just... darkness.
Brittany froze, unsure of what to do. She had never seen Santana like this, so…unhinged. For a split second, she felt a pang of fear, something foreign and unfamiliar in the pit of her stomach.
“Santana...?” Brittany asked softly, her voice shaking just slightly. She couldn’t keep the edge of worry out of her tone. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
But Santana didn’t answer. Instead, she took a step closer, her breath ragged, her body rigid as if she were fighting some internal battle. She opened her mouth as though to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
Brittany stood up slowly, her hands raised in an attempt to calm her down. “Santana, hey, hey, it’s okay. Whatever’s going on, we can figure it out. Just breathe, okay?”
But before she could get any closer, Santana suddenly lashed out, the motion so fast and violent that Brittany didn’t have time to react. A loud crash echoed through the room as Santana’s fist slammed into the wall beside her head, the force making the entire apartment shake.
Brittany stumbled back, her heart racing, her breath caught in her throat. Santana stood there, her fist still pressed against the wall, her body trembling with the strain of holding herself back.
For a long, terrible moment, neither of them moved.
Santana’s breathing was harsh, ragged, as if she were choking on her own anger. Her eyes flicked to Brittany, and for the first time, Brittany saw the raw panic and guilt that flashed in them. Santana slowly pulled her fist away from the wall, her whole body slumping as the tension drained from her. Her lips parted, her breath catching as she looked at Brittany with wide eyes, horror creeping into her expression.
“Oh God,” Santana whispered, her voice shaking. “Brittany, I—I didn’t mean to... I didn’t—”
The words trailed off as she crumpled in on herself, sinking to her knees as if the weight of everything pressing down on her was too much to bear. Her hands pressed to her face, her body shaking with the force of the sobs that wracked her.
Brittany stood there, rooted to the spot, her heart pounding in her chest as the shock of what had just happened settled over her. Her first instinct was to reach out, to hold Santana, but she couldn’t move. Not yet. She wasn’t sure what she was even feeling, fear, concern, disbelief.
Santana looked up at her, her eyes wide and frantic. “Brittany... I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I don’t know what’s happening to me. It’s like I can’t control it anymore. I can’t...” Her voice broke, and she pressed her hands to her chest, as if trying to keep herself from falling apart. “I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t. But... it’s like there’s something inside me, pulling me. And I can’t stop it.”
Brittany took a hesitant step forward, her heart aching with the rawness of Santana’s words. Slowly, carefully, she crouched down in front of her, her hand reaching out.
“I don’t know what’s happening to you, Santana,” Brittany whispered, her voice soft but firm. “But I’m not going anywhere. You hear me? I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out, okay?”
Santana nodded, her sobs quieting, but there was still a haunted look in her eyes. She didn’t believe it. Not yet. And Brittany wasn’t sure how they would get through this. But for now, she needed Santana to know she wasn’t alone.
They weren’t going to give up on each other. Not yet.