Beca stood on the bridge overlooking the road. Tears streamed down her face and were flicked away by the harsh wind.
I can't take this any longer.
She wanted to scream, to do something, but all she could do was stare in silence out on the rushing traffic. Some leaves flickered in front of her face and drifted right past, scratching at her face and catching on her eyelashes. She did not blink, made no recognisable motion that she even knew she had been struck by something.
There's no point. I've seen enough.
Beca had indeed seen and heard enough. Walking in on people just existing; their being happy hurt her. And god if it didn't hurt the most with Chloe. Chloe always was the cheerful one in their friendship, so it didn't really take much for her to withdraw herself. Bring herself into herself. Stop answering texts. Stop calling.
Ever since I saw that happening…
Beca and Chloe had once shared an apartment. She was happy with the arrangement, it meant she could see a lot of her best friend at the same time as remaining standoffish and antisocial. But when she walked in on Chloe and Christopher doing the dirty on their couch, silently watching in horror as the space where she usually sat with her laptop was defaced in the most sickening way for her; that aspect of her life was irrevocably ruined.
I'll never forget…
Beca moved out the next week. No explanation, just up and went. She left one piece of herself behind though, a part of her she couldn't just take back.
I'll never forget you Chloe.
Beca loved Chloe's little scar on her forehead. She had longed to reach up and kiss it so many times. Longed to grab desperately for something she could not have. Something she was never going to be able to have.
I wish I could have had the balls to say goodbye.
She had been unable to say anything to her friend the last time they met. Awkwardly avoiding the couch, running upstairs to plant a purple plaid shirt in the bottom of their- Chloe's wardrobe, and slipping a note inside the top pocket, before scurrying down again before Chloe recognised she had gone anywhere.
But what's the point in hoping for what I can't have?
Beca felt herself crumbling as she sank to the ground, barely able to breathe. She didn't want to breathe any more. She just wanted it to end. End slowly, end quickly, she didn't care. Just get it over with.
There's no point in living if you can't feel alive.
It was a quote she had stolen from one of Jesse's "moviecation" nights; and she knew her use of it would be a bittersweet memory for the guy. He had loved her, but her heart belonged to someone else. Someone who could never love such a broken, ruined person like her. She deserved better than Beca, and Beca knew it.
Stand up, Rebeca Mitchell. Soon it will be over. You won't hurt any more.
Beca numbly got to her feet, gingerly sliding over the rail and tiptoeing to the edge of the metal. She could sit there until she collapsed onto the road if she wanted to, and nobody would stop her. Because nobody cared. Not anymore. Not for Beca.
This is your fault, dad. You broke mom and me. We were fucking happy!
She screamed into the howling wind, the sound being whipped away as easily as candyfloss melted into water. It was his fault they were broken. Her mom had died too, drank her liver away. That was the last straw for Beca. Her mom had always been a source of comfort for her. Someone to talk to when everything became too much.
I hope you enjoy putting me in the ground, dad. If you even turn up.
By this point, it was unbearable. Beca had herself a dichotomy. Jump now, and feel every crack, every scream of pain; or jump later, after reliving everything and simply falling to a better place. She struggled with herself, before sitting down on the uncompromising metal bar.
She's probably found my shirt now. It probably still smells of me.
Chloe had indeed found Beca's shirt, not thirty seconds before Beca thought about it. Riffling through her clothes for something to wear, she found the plaid at the very bottom of her wardrobe, right down where it had got lost. She had pulled it out fondly, breathing deeply in the scent of her best friend, scrunching it up hard and pressing her face into it, trying to extract some semblance of the girl she dearly missed.
She's probably thrown it out. Don't need reminders of the past. Especially not me.
It took until she had withdrawn her face for Chloe to notice that she was crying, the tears mingling with the smell of Beca. She had been unable to withdraw herself from the folds of the shirt long enough to notice the sepia piece of crumpled paper tucked into it.
I'm not worthy of her. What was I to her? Just a friend? I let down my walls. I'm a fool.
Chloe felt choked up, tremendously so. She dug her phone from her pocket, willing the brunette to text her back, or reply to anything. But nothing. Nothing at all. She missed her so badly it hurt. She pulled the shirt back to look at it, finally seeing the piece of paper. She pulled it out.
Why did I ever join the Bellas? Why did I ever go to Barden? Why did dad break us? Why?
"Why?" was also the same word on Chloe's lips when she read the words on the outside of the folded piece of paper. It read "Chloe – I'm sorry" Chloe barely had time to question before she forced the paper open with entirely too much force and began to read.
I should never have let people in. It makes you weak. And now I'm paying the price.
Chloe got to somewhere around, "if you even care about me anymore, ask at the hospital on the twentieth for the bridge 33-4B accident," before she rocketed up, searching frantically for her car keys amidst a flurry of tears and panic, not really caring what she was wearing or what it looked like. Stumbling out onto the parking space and driving as fast as she could, hooking her phone into the loudspeaker to call Aubrey.
The ultimate price. It's funny, I sort of feel happy knowing it's gonna be over soon.
Chloe drove as fast as she felt safe doing, navigating to the bridge she hoped Beca was still standing on and not underneath… No, not like that. A new volley of tears spurred her on to drive faster and get there sooner… What if she was too late? She gulped. Her phone crackled to life. "This is Aubrey Posen."
I'm ready. But not ready, y'know? I want to see one last sunset. Mom and I loved the sunsets.
Screeching brakes on to park somewhere near where the bridge was, she tugged the phone with her. "Aubrey, it's me, Chloe. But it's about Beca." She struggled to contain her panic and emotion as Aubrey responded. "Have you finally told her how you feel about her?"
I wish I could hug Chloe one more time. Say bye proper. Not just some crummy shirt and a letter. How could my letter explain how I feel?
"No, Bree, it's worse than that…!" Chloe cried, running a hand through her hair as she forced herself to walk closer to where Beca's dead body could be lying. "She's trying to kill herself!"
Who would care, anyway? Chloe can't. Jesse stopped caring when he became famous, and I stayed a nobody. Aubrey never cared in the first place. Emily might miss me, if she remembers who I am.
"Don't joke about that sort of thing," Aubrey's voice contained shock and fear and an extraordinary amount of protectiveness. "I'm not joking Bree!" Chloe related what she knew to Aubrey, before dropping the phone with a brief apology. At last her resolve broke and she fell into a full on sprint. She had to get to Beca before she… before it was too late.
There goes the sun. It's beautiful isn't it? Mom, I think you'll like this one. It's the last thing I'll see, so I can explain it so well to you. You always spoke in colours right? I'm more music. This one is light and floaty, beginning powerful and over exuberant, but fading into a gentle melody, like a little lullaby… A nice way to end… a little lullaby…
Chloe slowed up when the edge of the bridge came into sight. Hardly daring to approach any of it, for risk of seeing her best friend lying- no, she couldn't think like it. Couldn't think of it. She had to still be there, she had to….
I can hear footsteps. I always like the sound of footsteps, I can tell who it is from them most often. These feet sound like yours, mom. Are you coming to take me to heaven? I missed you so much.
"Beca!" Chloe cried out, spotting the DJ sitting on the edge of the bridge.
Hmm, mom, your voice has changed… it sounds so melodic. Like it was before you drank so much. I missed it. You sound a lot like Chloe does now. Damnit. You can't have Chloe Beca.
Beca stood up, looking down with a proud finality. "Mom…" she whispered, not looking at Chloe. It was as if she hadn't even heard her. "I want to tell you a story, about a beautiful woman. No, it's not me, it's a ginger named Chloe Beale."
How do I start? How do I explain the start of my end?
"She's funny, she sings really well and her major was Fine Arts when we met in college. She kept failing Russian Lit, so thanks for being obsessed with Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy so I could help her. Her hair always smells of some sort of citrus wash; I wanna keep smelling it forever."
I think I can still catch a glimpse of it on the wind…
"We first met at the Activities Fair; as you know. I went to see you the day it happened didn't I? I brought you a fresh bouquet. And then, how could I forget, she, um, barged into my shower and forced me to sing with her. Naked!"
I hope that memory never fades.
"I was- I was in denial for a long time about the whole thing. After you died, I stopped letting people in. I guess it was safer. I never really liked to tell you; but I'm sure you'll slap me silly for it in a while." Beca smiled softly, turning to look at Chloe.
Wow. Mom is gonna let me say goodbye to her.
"There she is. I think you'd have liked her, mom. She's smart and beautiful. I wish I could have said goodbye." Chloe felt tears welling up and she stepped closer to Beca. Beca shook her head. "No, mom. Don't come closer. Because then I'll try and touch her, because how could you not want to, and she won't be there. Let me imagine."
Let me live on in this moment forever.
Chloe felt tears welling up. "Don't leave me Bec. Please don't leave me."
I'm not leaving you. I'm coming back to you mom.
"Chlo," Beca sighed, drinking in her image. "Wait… that's my shirt."
How did mom get my shirt? Unless…?
Chloe looked down, and there it was, the same purple plaid she had caressed and cried into, missing her best friend dearly. It was the same item of clothing she had loved and lost so many times. "Becs, it's me. Don't do this. I needyou, Beca. I need you to stay here so badly it hurts. What did I do wrong?"
Chlo… you're not real.
"The sofa," Beca said, barely looking anywhere. "Where I used to sit. Christopher enjoyed that sofa didn't he?"
Oh god, didn't need to see that again.
Chloe's jaw slackened in horror. She shook her head, inching closer. "Oh my god, Becs, gross. Jeeze…" She leant on the railing a respectable distance from Beca, the tremble of her voice betraying how she felt; betraying the casual nature she was portraying. "I'm so sorry." A solitary tear, the last she had left, trailed its way down her face and too was whipped away by the wind.
Why is she sad? Why is such a beautiful person sad?
"Chlo, don't cry. You deserve to be happy." Beca said, reaching out to cup Chloe's face before retracting her arm hastily. "You ought to be happy. I wish I could make you happy."
But you can't, Beca. She needs someone better than me. She deserves better than me.
"You make me happy every day, Beca. I need you. I…"
What was she going to say? Stop hoping. She would never say-
"I love you…" Chloe whispered. "Don't leave me here alone. Please don't leave me here alone. I don't think I can cope being on my own."
How can I stay here? I have nothing to live for.
Beca voiced this opinion, and it was this that broke Chloe. "You can't die! You can stay here because I am in love with you Beca Mitchell and I want to make you happy! I always have done and I always will!"
She isn't real. She's just a figment of your desperate, mad mind.
Beca said nothing, just looking out on the sunset. "Mom, stop messing with me. Chloe doesn't care about me. I cut her off. Nobody ever comes back. Nobody!"
Ever so quietly, she caught the whisper, "But I did."
The sun has almost set. Let's do this.
Beca seemed to be waiting for something, a something that was rapidly approaching. Chloe was out of options and time. Seeing no other choice, she grabbed Beca's shirt and span her around, grasping her shoulders as strongly as she could to force the brunette to stay still. "LOOK AT ME!" she screamed in anguish.
Look up, Beca. Look at her. She wants you to.
"You can't leave me…!" Chloe cried. She grabbed Beca's shoulders and shook them. Her voice dropped and she begged Beca. "Please. You can't just go. Not like this."
What choice do I have?
"Let me go," Beca whispered. "Just let me go. I can't be what you want me to be. I'm hopeless."
Why am I still here?
"You're not hopeless." Chloe leant in and kissed Beca gently. After pulling away, she scanned Beca's eyes hopefully. "You can't let that be the last kiss I ever have with you."
I'm sorry, Beale. I love you.
Time slowed down and Chloe felt like gasping for breath. Beca pulled free of her grasp and she was clutching at air. Then, Beca was gone. Nothing. No trace of her but a pair of shoes. Chloe forced her eyes closed at the screech of the brakes below. Then, nothing but the sound of silence.
...
...
...
Chloe had failed.
"Beca Mitchell was an intelligent, beautiful woman, and I am proud to have shared some of my time here with the hobbit," Aubrey was speaking now. Before it had been Jesse and before that Fat Amy. And before that it was Luke, Beca's ex-boss. "I know I will not be the only one to miss Beca's humour and her love of music."
Aubrey tightly shut her eyes and stared to the ceiling for a few seconds. "And I know- I know I'm proud of her. Beca Mitchell, I raise my glass to you. I miss you greatly. I am sorry that you felt this was the only way on. And- I- I have a gift for you." Having already had Bellas scarves tied onto each of the handles of the casket in which Beca sat, Chloe didn't know what Aubrey was going to give her.
"I'm giving something back to this midget. Something I knew she would have used much better than I did. But I kept it selfishly, and as a result we did not succeed." She held in her hand a replica of the Bellas pitch pipe- wait, no. That was Aubrey's pitch pipe. No replicas here, this was the real deal. It still had scratches on it from when it got run over by Bumper's motorcycle. "I guess-," a short laugh from Aubrey, "I guess this doesn't mean so much to you as it does to me, short stack. God…" Aubrey's voice trembled. "I'm gonna miss you." She bowed her head.
Applause rang around the room for a few seconds, and then silence. Chloe knew she was next, but couldn't bring herself to move. Aubrey helped her to her feet and walked her over to the dais. She held her hand as Chloe gazed upon the casket for as long as she dared.
"I'm sorry," Chloe finally said, looking up to the congregation. She had to say these things, to end it properly. "I'm sorry I failed you all. I was with her when she died." She held her breath, her normally bright blue eyes dimmed permanently by the loss of someone so precious to her. "It was painful for both of us. I hurt because she hurt. She hurt because-" She had to stop. Aubrey rubbed up and down her arm. She cast a dewy eye towards the front row, where everyone truly important to Beca were sat. The chairs reserved for "DR. MITCHELL" and "MRS MITCHELL" were conspicuously absent; a fact which fuelled her to press on.
"She hurt because I hurt her. She let me in, and I hurt her. And she spoke about her father, and how she wanted to know why he had broken her and her mother. I am sorry that the actual Ms. Mitchell cannot be here today, but at least her father can be here to be her mother. Except he is not here either. Beca felt alone. She felt lost and afraid. She closed herself off. She didn't think anybody cared anymore."
"Except- except I did. I cared too much for Beca Mitchell. And it is because of me that we are all gathered here today. I loved Beca Mitchell, and from what I heard on that last day she loved me too. But- I loved and I loved and I lost her."
She couldn't bring herself to say much more, but with Aubrey next to her rubbing circles on her back, promising her everything would be okay, she took one last, trembling breath. "I'm going to miss you so much Beca. More than words can tell. More even than music can convey. I would go to the ends of the earth and back for you. It's only standing here, seeing everybody gathered here like this… here… that I can accept it. I- I failed you Beca. I was supposed to never let you go."
"I was never supposed to say goodbye so soon."
"I wanted to spend hours with you. Days. Years."
"I wanted to kiss you goodbye every morning and kiss you hello when you came home."
"I wanted to see you become famous."
"Instead, I will see your grave. I will see your tombstone being placed. And I will bring flowers, every day."
"I am sorry I failed you Beca. There are so many regrets I have, so many risks I wish I'd taken. So many experiments left undone in college. So many kisses never to be had. And now my chance to share them with you has been lost."
FIN.