Scandal (A Brittana Fanfic)

Janitor's Closet

The days go by in a blur. 

Artie is spiraling into deeper depression every day, and soon he'll have to start his first session of chemo. Every time we hang out, he seems really drunk. I think I saw him try to sneak a drink from a flask once. I guess his cancer is pretty bad, and the doctors told him he probably wouldn't live for much longer. 

Quinn is still ignoring me, and my grades are plummeting. I don't care anymore. Why does any of this matter? Why do I want to pay thousands of dollars to go to four more years of school and just end up failing there too? Why are a person's grades used to define how good of a person they are? 

Ms. Pierce shoots me looks in class sometimes. I want to talk to her, tell her that I don't think Quinn would actually tell Figgins that she saw me at her apartment. I just want to talk to her in general. 

I trudge to my locker, still half asleep, and fling it open. A note falls onto the ground and I bend to pick it up.

Meet me in the janitor's closet after the first bell. 

It's not signed. 

I look around. 

Was it from Artie?

Quinn? 

Ms. Pierce? 

The first bell rings and I anxiously wait for the hallways to be clear. My stomach is in knots. The late bell rings and I begin making my way down to the huge janitor's closet. 

With every step I hear my stomach flip over. My heart is beating really hard, I can feel it push against my chest.

My hand is on the handle. I turn it and it opens. 

The closet is dark. I step inside. 

"Hello?" I whisper. There is no answer. I shut the door behind me. 

I hear steady breathing from across the room. 

"Where's the light switch?" I ask, feeling around the wall. I finally find it and switch it on. 

Ms. Pierce is standing across from me. 

My breath hitches at how beautiful she looks in the dim light of the overhanging bulb. 

"Don't you have class?" I ask her.

"There's a subsitute," she answers, her voice quiet and deep. 

"Why are we in a closet?" I ask. 

"I'm the only one in the closet," Ms. Pierce says. 

My eyes widen and she looks down at her shoes. 

I hear her start crying. She's trembling, and I feel so bad. I step towards her and wrap my arms around her. So what if it's inappropriate. I don't care. 

She cries into my shoulder, loud sobs, and I never want to let go of her tiny body. 

"I just wanted to talk to you alone," Ms. Pierce says, her voice shaky. I let go of her and she wipes her eyes. 

"I was a slut in high school," she says, looking me dead in  the eyes. 

"Yeah, I know, you told me." 

"Yeah, but I didn't tell you the whole story. I dated and had sex with guys, because I was scared. Utterly scared of the truth. All my life I knew I was different. I had a crush on all of the Spice Girls and was never infatuated with Backstreet Boys or NSync. I never thought too much of it though, until middle school rolled around and girls stopped thinking boys had cooties. My best friend got her first boyfriend, so I thought that I should too, right? I tried to date guys. I hated it. I didn't like them. I thought girls were beautiful creatures. I would cry a lot and pray, asking God to change me to be normal." 

She pauses, taking a deep breath. 

"I started to hate myself so much, that when high school finally started, I decided to have sex. That was my mission, my one goal. Maybe if I had sex, I would realize I do like guys. So I did. A guy told me he thought I was pretty and I asked if he wanted to fuck. My first time was in the school's bathroom, with a guy that now is in jail for drugs. I didn't feel anything from it. I thought that maybe I just had the wrong guy, or the wrong setting. So I kept trying. I kept a record of who I did it with and where. I had sex in the car, in my bedroom, in their bedrooms, at parties, in the locker room, even under the bleachers one time. I felt nothing each time. I was never turned on, never happy. I didn't want guys. I wanted girls."

I see the tears coming to her eyes again. I want to hug her again, but I also want to hear the end of her story. 

"During my senior year, this girl transferred to our school from the next county over. She was gorgeous. Tall, fair skinned, brown hair, athletic. She was in my science class, and we started talking. And she told me she was gay. And one thing led to another and instead of making out with guys, I was making out with her, in her car. I felt a rush of joy and passion. She later found out of my sluttish ways and told me she couldn't date me, but I didn't care. That had made it real. I knew one hundred percent that I was gay. I am gay. But I've been so scared to tell my parents. They still don't know, even after I had two girlfriends in college. And I want to be able to talk to someone. Then I came here, and I met you and.,," She trails off. 

"Being gay is ok. It took me a while to realize that too. I can't force you to come out to your parents, but when you do, if they don't accept you, then they're idiots. You're beautiful Ms. Pierce and you deserve a girlfriend who will cherish you," I say. 

She looks up at me when I say that. She's looking me directly in the eyes. The air feels really thick, and she steps towards me. 

"You can call me Brittany," she says, crashing her lips into mine. 

She pushes me against the wall, and suddenly I feel vibrant. 

"You're my teacher," I breathe out against her skin. 

"So let me teach you."