“It doesn’t matter, butter scalp! I’m fine on my own!” As hard as she tried, there was a real emotion that slipped through her facade. A stray tear that she’d deny no matter what Blaine saw. “Why are you still here, I said I want to be alone! — Wait, are you okay?”
“Obviously. You’re perfectly fine, Santana. You exude fine. How could I have thought otherwise,” Blaine asks with a voice that he wished could be more calming when she needed it so badly. Regardless of what she said–Blaine knew Santana wasn’t fine. But he was lacking the energy to hide the fact that maybe–he wasn’t either. Quite honestly? He was just tired. “Yeah. I’m okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out snippy. I’m–I only want to make sure you know I’m here if you need me.” And maybe if she needed him? Then it wasn’t outright saying he needed her, too.
pianokeysandbowties 