“Is that why you did it?”
Santana doesn’t turn to address the tiny voice behind her. Instead, she sighs and rests her forehead against her locker. She’d hoped to get in and get out without Brittany cornering her here again, but maybe this was worse.
“Did what, Rachel?” She catches herself using the smaller girl’s first name again. That’s twice in one day, and she wonders if maybe she’s going soft.
“Got your… enhancements,” Rachel replies, sidestepping slowly so her shoulder against Brittany’s locker at your side. “Did you do it because you don’t like yourself?”
She’d been avoiding this question all year. The only person that had ever really asked her why she’d done it was Sue. And even then, the Cheerios’ coach hadn’t really taken the time to listen to the answer. But here was Rachel Berry, the bridge of her nose purple and swollen, asking Santana the very thing she’d fought against saying out loud for months.
“I like myself just fine,” Santana snaps, her fingers slipping on the dial of the lock, fumbling to remember the combination. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
Rachel winces at the acid in her tone, but doesn’t look away. “You shouldn’t, you know. Dislike yourself. There’s a lot about you to love, Santana. Maybe you don’t see it, but someone does.”
She shifts uneasily from one foot to the other. “Yeah?” she snorts, adjusting the strap of her backpack. “Who? Sam? Puck? Sure as hell isn’t Brittany.”
Rachel shakes her head, a sympathetic smile playing across her face, even though the act of doing so must make her broken nose ache. “I can’t speak to what they see in you, Santana. But…”
Santana feels her take a step closer before she sees it. Her body is pressed against her side and she’s standing on her toes before she can turn. Rachel leans in, daintily on the balls of her feet, a presses warm lips to Santana’s cool cheek.
“But I see it,” she finishes, stepping back and turning with a blush, leaving Santana holding her burning cheek, and smiling.
(Source: sapphosghost)
