i’m here.

There would be no hiding. A thunderstorm was normally just a fear.
Something to get nervous about then sleep through instead. Of course
the first storm since moving in with Blaine Anderson had to be different.
This was one for the ages. The windows seemed to SCREAM with each
movement. The winds that blew past the house felt like they were seeping
in through invisible walls. In the head of Santana Lopez, the storm was
EVERYWHERE.

Nine times out of ten the Latina female would easily DRINK herself to
sleep, and forget the weather till the sun returned to the sky. Now more
than ever she prayed for a sleepiness to take over. Who knew how long
she’d been sitting there, a small curled up mass of goosebumps and jitters.
If she saw another going through such a thing, she may call out words like,
pathetic, or stupid. The thunder and lightning wont do a thing. Sadly a phobia
is a phobia. There’s just no changing it. Even when you have the pride of the
king of the jungle.

Probably the only thing to shock her more than the rattling sound coming
from each outing of the home, was the feeling of another’s presence coming
up behind her. A part of her would of KILLED to get that bottle back, but the
warm comfort radiating from the male himself, felt somehow— BETTER.
Her delicate, and still shaking arms lifted slowly, leading her fingers to grip
Blaine’s shirt. “No…” She attempted to deny. As luck would have it another
boom of thunder crashed her thoughts, making her nearly jump off of the other.
Thanks to their position though, she didn’t go anywhere. “Fine— just, shut up.”
The female shook her head. This was so damn sad, pathetic, STUPID. How
could she feel so much fear and intimidation from light and sound. Two things
that science wouldn’t do without. Maybe she was disappointing in how weak
she felt in the moment. Or maybe it was the strange happiness she let herself
feel coming from being in her friends lap. Knowing somebody cared, of course
that should feel nice, but her PRIDE would never let her enjoy it.

“Shh, Santana,” he felt her jump so hard that it made him jerk underneath
but his arms around her shoulders refused to let go.  Seeing her petrified
made his heart want to reach out to her.  Erase the source of it and make
sure it never touched her again.  Problem with strong people?  They weren’t
unsusceptible to weaknesses.  The worst part of being unbreakable was that
the things that could break you?  Had to you harder than they hit anyone else.
They struck with deathblows against a person’s willpower to not let it show.
Until they couldn’t hold back or stop it.  No amount of fake anger would cover
it up.  No amount of lying to yourself that it didn’t hurt or rattle you worked.
You only crashed and burned.

Imagining Santana Lopez afraid of her thoughts, of parts of herself, was one
thing.  Her being afraid of any amount of thunder and lightning, wind and rain
wasn’t something he could picture until tonight.  Not that he thought it was
STUPID or childish like she did.  Who was he to judge what people were afraid
of?  Everyone has their weaknesses.  Even him.  Random as some of them
are.  They weren’t something to judge a person about. Or hold over their head.
She wouldn’t find any of that from him.  He barely even mentioned anything
about their situation unless she was the one to comment on it.

Blaine only hung onto her tighter.  Through his jump, through her battle with
being seen as weak –never weak, he’d never see her as weak–.  “Shut up?
Can do,” he clamped his mouth shut to prove he was listening. Deeply sighing,
he rubbed her shoulders and leaned back. Far enough that she wouldn’t lose
her grip on his shirt if she needed something to hang onto but allowed him
room enough to push a lock of her hair behind her ear.  Not making a peep,
Blaine nodded in patient understanding.  His face and gentle stroke through
her hair said everything he didn’t.  –I’m here.  I understand.  This is just
between you and me.  No one needs to know you were afraid. I wouldn’t tell
a soul.–  Squeezing her back in close again, Blaine hooked his chin over the
bend of her neck but kept his gaze at an upward angle watching her without
making it obvious.  She’d be okay.  The storm would pass.  Til the last clap of
thunder?  She had him.