itscurtains | Love's no good but it sure beats the hurt

[That was... Christine can only call it the most horrible thing she's seen so far, with that familiar dread that says something worse may come. Four people have died. Four friends Christine had trusted in and relied upon. And four more people she cares about have turned into memories and painful reminders of her failure to do anything meaningful here.

And Christine wallows in that. God, does she wallow. But she also knows that those painful ghosts of the people she loved relied on her to keep getting back up when the world knocked her down. And she has to keep going, if only to honour there memories.

The note she slides under each person's door is very simple, the bright orange gel pen somehow seeming duller in the wake of mourning:]

Food is in the dining hall.
Please come have something, or I'll track you down in an hour and force feed you.
If there's anything at all you need, please come talk to me. We shouldn't have to suffer alone.
-Christine

[There's a few dishes Christine knows how to make: lo mein and beef stew, some simple sandwiches as well. There are almond cookies after the more filling foods are prepared.

Off to the side is a plate with a few dumplings and... what looks like mashed turnips? An odd combination, but they were Angus' favourite.

And Christine is true to her word. If you don't come in an hour, she'll find you. In fact, she makes rounds around the opera house pretty much every hour, checking each room, and... maybe singing softly to herself as she goes.]

O god,
I can't stay, I won't stay for things left unseen
I can't stay, I won't stay, this end has no means
I can't stay, I won't stay, you were just a dream
A sweet sweet dream
You were a dream
But not my dream...

[Speaking of dreams, someone should convince her to go to bed.]

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Yeah, well, meeting the parents is usually super weird. I don't think any of my friends would be into that.

[ but maybe Stephen would!

At Mephisto's question, Santana nods, sharply. It's a moment before she speaks again -- she's trying to keep her composure, trying to not start crying again. ]

Yeah. Remember when we were baking those awful cookies, and I told you only one person has my approval? That's -- that's Brittany. She made me this shirt. I didn't expect Riley to have it.

[ "Approval" doesn't begin to scratch the surface, of course -- but how on earth do you admit to a demon that you're in love when you can barely admit it to yourself? ]

I won't subject them to the horror.

[The silence is telling enough. Mephisto inches forward, fingers brushing over Santana's shoulder, light as he can manage.]

Is it some sort of... code between you two?

[He hasn't gotten that far ahead into his history books.]

[ Mephisto isn’t all that far off, actually. Santana doesn’t lean into the touch, but for once, she doesn’t push Mephisto away, or shut him down. ]

Yeah. Lebanese, it, uh — it usually means someone who’s from Lebanon. Which I’m not. But it sounds like —

[ That’s as far as Santana gets before abruptly shutting her mouth and going back to staring at the shirt, doing her best attempt at a poker face. It’s not her best work; Santana is clearly tense.

She takes a deep breath. Without looking up: ]

Sometimes, we — we kiss. Stuff like that. That’s what it’s code for.

[ Santana’s heart is beating a mile a minute. She’s terrified — terrified of what Mephisto might say or think. She can’t bring herself to look up at him though, can’t risk seeing judgement written across his face, or worse, disgust. ]

[Truthfully, Mephisto doesn't really see the big deal about her confession. He wouldn't have even guessed it was so important to her, if he hadn't glanced up and seen just how rigid she's gone. Never mind the fact that it's rare for Santana to avoid his gaze. Usually every conversation feels like a challenge from her.]

Oh? [He keeps his tone light. He doesn't want to make a big deal of it. Doesn't want to embarrass her by putting the spotlight on her.]

So do Stephen and I. [Everybody kisses someone of the same gender! It's fine!] Are we Lebanese?

[ At Mephisto's question, Santana finally looks up at him, trying to make sure that he's being genuine, that it's not some big sarcastic joke. It doesn't seem to be? But the question is kinda funny, and after a beat, Santana breaks out into laughter. Not her usual mocking laugh either, but something softer, something genuine. She likes to think she's laughing so hard she's crying, although the tears that come now are more out of relief than anything else.

Eventually, she's able to pull herself together long enough to say something coherent. ]

Sorry -- that's, uh, a fair question. [ Santana honestly cannot believe she's explaining this, right here on Riley's floor, but stranger things have happened. ] Nah, since you and Stephen aren't girls or women, you'd be gay, I guess?

[ Santana is doing her best here, but today's been a lot, and explaining modern-era sexuality to a demon (fallen angel?) is way beyond her pay grade. ]

[Mephisto is almost frozen in place by the sound. It's not something he expected from Santana, and certainly not right now. He's sure he's the one being laughed at too but... It feels less cynical. He isn't sure how he feels about that, honestly.

And she's crying, too.]

I didn't mean to make a mockery of your dilemma. [He offers eventually. But... at least he has his answer. He won't press it any further.]

Just one more reason to get you out of here, then. So you can kiss this Brittany again.

Oh, no, it’s fine, it was. Nice. I just didn’t expect you to take it that well. Not too many people do, where I’m from.

[ Santana nods, a bit of that usual sharp and determined flint returning to her gaze. ]

Oh, we’re all getting out. You’ve still gotta see New York, remember?

I do not know how much weight my opinion holds, considering... [Vague motions. He's a demon, maybe he's got the wrong opinion on this kind of stuff but.]

I don't see why anyone should take it poorly.

[That's the look he'd been hoping for. A smile flickers over Mephisto's own lips, genuine before turning sharp.]

But of course. I haven't forgotten our deal.

I don’t either, really, but a lot of people think it’s a sin. [ Her grandmother, for one. ] But you’d probably know more about all that than I do.

[ Santana returns the smile, sharp as ever. ]

Good. I’m holding you to that.

Maybe, maybe not. [He exhales sharply, a brief moment of annoyance not at Santana, but her circumstances.]

If you so much as sneeze the wrong way, an overzealous priest will deem you a sinner. I start to wonder if the pious themselves care even less for the word of god than I do.

Love's no good but it sure beats the hurt

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cw internalized homophobia

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cw potentially negative religion talk

cw potentially negative religion talk