My Roommate (Brittana Fanfiction)

16

Santana's POV
Okay.
It has been approximately 3 weeks, or is it 4? Anyway, Brittany hasn't spoken to me in ages. I've sort of lost track of time. I'm sleepwalking through the days, just going from coffee shop to class to the diner to bed. And then repeating it over and over. I'm exhausted. I feel sort of numb, like I'm floating above everything. I'm hardly ever hungry, and if I stand up too soon then the room spins and I have to stay still for a second.

I'm fine.

My class work hasn't suffered too much. I just go on autopilot, and copy everything down. But I'm not taking any of it in. I do any essays on my break at the diner. Dani is starting to get worried though. She notices whenever I get dizzy, or yawn, or skip another meal because my stomach flips.

And Brittany and all her friends still hate me. A few days ago, they pulled an all nighter movie marathon. Anyway, I stumbled in the door at 2am while they were watching a horror movie. I scared the shit out of them, and in return got a bunch of death stares from everyone but Rachel. She was asleep.

I slept on the sofa that night.

And Puck keeps complaining that I never spend any time with him anymore. But I can't bring myself to tell him that I'm working all the time. It makes me seem like the world's worst girlfriend, putting work over my relationships. So I just tell him that I have a load of class work to catch up on. But I don't even like him that much. He's arrogant, and leers at you.

Brittany doesn't even question me on where I disappear off to every night. I wonder where she thinks I am?

I've fallen into this routine. And it's not the best, but it's somehow working out. I'm running on practically no sleep, and a load of coffee, and everyone in the world hates me. But I'm holding it together.
Until today, when everything fell apart.

I woke up at 7am, after having 5 hours of sleep. My eyes wouldn't open at first, and I just felt so tired. My body felt as if it was made out of lead as I dragged myself out of bed, and got dressed in the clothes from yesterday. Or maybe from the day before that? I don't really care anymore.

I hate this all so much.

I'm meant to be living my best life. I should be out every night partying, making friends and having fun. I should be dying my hair random colours and making midnight trips to shops for cravings. I should be talking to Brittany about how I'm really confused about my feelings for her.

But I'm trapped in this cycle, which is so fragile that if I make one wrong move, it will shatter down around me. And I need it to stay together, so I have a place to live and money to pay bills and stuff. It sounds dumb, but I'm scared. This isn't me, I barely recognise this workaholic who has one friend and writes essays on depressing books.

When I get to the coffee shop, Rory barely even notices my disheveled state. He hands me an apron, and starts to speak fast. It takes a second for it to sink in, but I understand soon enough.
"Jesus Christ Santana, could you have been any later? Miss Sylvester is coming in to inspect us, and this needs to be perfect. I want my raise so I can fly back to Ireland and visit my family."
"Yeah, sure, I'll sort everything out."

I start so sort out our coffee cups, so the logos are all facing the same way. Then I make sure that all the chairs are straightened at the tables, and the menus are laid out facing the right way up. Sue is a perfectionist about these things, and she won't hesitate to fire us if anything is wrong.

By the time she shows up, me and Rory are the best baristas in New York. All our customers are being served quickly, and we haven't drawn any boobs or dicks on top of their drinks with milk.
What? We need to have fun as well.