Work Text:
He picks up the letter with shaky breaths and fumbling fingers, twirls the paper in his hands like it is a deed to the universe - like it could easily alter everything. He wonders, briefly, if this is what people feel like when handed divorce papers or a marriage licence. If this weight is what holds the world together. He knows he’s being overdramatic, but maybe this letter really could change everything.
He doesn’t want to open it. It’s been closed with a tiny rainbow smiley face sticker and José suspects that Brock stole it from him because he sure as hell didn’t bring any himself. It’s cute that he put so much effort into it (he can see the tear tracks on the paper even from the outside, prays Brock used waterproof ink).
*
Vanessa knew this was coming the second Brooke said she was going to rap about Canada. Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration but she sure as hell could see it. That monster grin the other queen wore as she threw her limbs around, bendy man at a carwash style - it’s why she loved her. Loves her.
She hopes the cameras caught her face as she uttered those words, knows it will be priceless because no matter how confident Brooke might have felt, she, on the other hand, was terrified. She’d had the audacity to say she didn’t need luck, to pretend that the nicknames had no effect on her and the peck was just for show but she knew how she felt in that moment, cold fear spreading like ice in the warmth of her heart. A wildfire heading towards a forest. A powderkeg about to explode.
*
His fingers falter as he rips the sticker. It feels symbolic - although of what, he doesn't know. He moves one hand from the paper, braces himself against the workbench they always shared. He can smell his cologne on the paper and knows Brock cradled it the same way he is doing now, all sorry smiles and heavy hearts.
‘ Nessa, José,’
He gulps hard and loud, tries to shield his eyes from the studio lighting and the cameraman who’s not giving him enough space to feel all the things he’s feeling. His emotions are a cacophony, a diabolic symphony in his mind, playing each note like it has all his life in it, all at once.
‘I am so proud of you baby.’
*
She watched her dance like a mother watches her child learn how to ride a bike. It was so very painful and she just wanted to reach out, steady it, give her a hand to hold. But she stayed strong. Every move was measured and placed perfectly and she looked so fucking elegant but that wasn’t the challenge. There’s no fire behind her eyes, just the poise and dignity that she’s always had and Vanessa can’t help but worry that that isn’t going to be enough.
There is an unparalleled joy on her face when she learns it’s going to be done in one take. The production value makes her want to squeal like a small child and one look at Brooke's face tells her the same thing. The excitement lasts longer than it should. Neither cares.
*
‘You won this thing the second you walked backwards off the stage in season ten and I am endlessly proud of you for everything you have achieved since.’
*
They knew it was low energy when they filmed but they couldn’t bring themselves to care. The stress is too much and all of the top five felt it seeping into their bones like a cold Canada winter - harsh and draining. She messed up lipsyncing and she knew she was in the bottom, there was no question.
They talked about the future when they de-dragged, let themselves wander into a pocket dimension filled with cats and glitter and freedom. (She might have known she was in the bottom but she didn’t think Brooke was. They considered it nonetheless.)
*
‘You are the Allie to my Noah, the Vivian to my Edward and the Pam to my Jim’
*
They went in on Brooke on the main stage and it’s that moment when the lightbulb switched. She wanted to fight every single producer on the show because she knew what was coming, goddamnit, and Brooke, her beautiful ballerina Brooke - she didn't deserve a word of it.
They talked in Untucked - it was bittersweet because they knew what was going to happen. They knew it would hurt and neither wanted to have to send the other home. ‘Sophie's choice’, Brooke said as a kind of justification to the way they felt. It didn’t need justifying and when their lips touched they felt it alleviate a little bit of the pain that was to come.
*
‘I am so excited to start a life with you outside of these walls, where we can go on dates and stay the night and you can meet my cats. I can’t wait for pancakes and waffles and taking you to Canada. I can’t wait for us.’
*
They fought.
It hurt.
When Brooke’s name was announced, Vanessa didn’t cry. She didn’t do much of anything until Brooke looked at her with those sad eyes and walked towards her like she couldn’t bear another moment alone. When they kissed, it was hard and needy and as if they were trying to convey every emotion they've shared over the competition. It was apologies and love songs and longing sewn into a kiss. She needed it, even if she hadn’t quite realised how much.
She didn’t look at her when she was leaving - something about salt in open wounds and how roses only grow with time. She didn't look because she was scared that if she saw Brooke crying, she would lose any of the dwindling resolve she had - she wasn’t mad. She wasn’t pressed. She was happy for the experience, she was happy for Brooke.
If she cried in the holding room later, no one had to know.
*
‘I love you so much, José - my winner. I will see you very soon,
Love, Brock x’
He knows he lost, but he is Brock’s winner and it feels more real than any crown or sceptre. He loves Brock with every fibre of his being and he knows that truly, he has won.
When he falls to the floor crying, all he can feel are Brock’s arms around him, anchoring him home.