The insufferable drone of an alarm clock resonates in her ears, and any attempts to block the sound out by burying her head further into her pillow are futile. She's not sure when exactly getting up in the mornings became such a struggle - and not in the I hate school, I'm going to fail that class anyway so what's the point in turning up kind of way, but in the genuine aching battle to pull herself from the sanctity of her bed and face the world head on for yet another day.
That's exactly how Chloe sees it - just another day, one among many, and one that doesn't amount to anything. She used to pass it off as a part of being an angst riddled teenager but somewhere along the way it dawned on her that it had become so much more than that. A feeling of wanting to take a week's break from the stresses of life is perfectly acceptable - a feeling of wanting to take a life's break from.. well, life... surely that's not healthy. Not when it originates from an aching pit of emptiness and despair deep within her chest, an infection of misery and self-hatred embedded in her brain.
She used to be a happy child, always smiling and laughing and dancing. Bringing joy to others brought joy to herself. But then she grew up, and in a way she grew in, as she realised that the world wasn't quite as beautiful and magnificent as all her books and television shows depicted. She grew up with the notion she could be anything she wanted, and in a cruel twist of fate she became everything she never expected - everything she would have feared, had she known it were possible to turn out in such a way.
Her daily routine of psyching herself up with the reminder that nothing can better if you don't try is slowing diminishing in its effect by the day. The awareness of this fact is definitely there, the willingness to care however is not. The willingness to care about much at all anymore is dwindling rapidly and in a sense it's like falling to your death from the world's tallest skyscraper: there's enough time left to fully process what's about to happen, but try as you might there's nothing you can do about the inevitable. The inevitable in this situation is that one day soon, not too far in the distant future, Chloe Beale is going to succumb to her own insanity - and no one's going to do anything to help her.
That day hasn't arrived yet though, she's not quite ready to give up entirely, so she summons up the remaining will she has left in her and pulls herself out of bed; padding down the hallway to the bathroom. Mundane tasks like brushing her teeth and combing her hair used to be considered habitual, now they're considered to be chores - capsules of energy wasted on actions that really make no difference anymore. If I'm dead on the inside, why do I even bother trying to look alive on the outside? she constantly asks herself.
Almost always, the answer to that question immediately follows. Beca. Beca fucking Mitchell. The sole reason Chloe gets up in the morning anymore is because she knows if she does she'll get to see those piercing dark blue eyes and that strangely irresistible smirk. People say you shouldn't base your happiness off of other people but if it weren't for Beca's presence in her life, Chloe's not entirely sure she'd still be here. It's a terrifying thought, being so dependent on another person that it's literally a matter of life or death, but it's Beca and it doesn't seem to matter how many messed up situations the brunette gets herself into; she's always had a way of soothing Chloe's doubts and fears, and the knowledge that she'll get to see the brunette one more time, if only for a minute, is enough to convince Chloe to hold on for just one more day - every day.
So she goes about her day, never forgetting to fix her mastered expression of only a mild disappointment with life firmly to her face, and she battles through it as best she can - with the occasional genuine smile and bout of laughter here and there. It's all an act, and for once in her life it's an act she wishes everyone would see through because she's dying inside and she's too stubborn to openly admit it.
October
It's a tuesday afternoon and for once something is in Chloe Beale's favor. The sun is at half-mast and her afternoon classes have been cancelled so she takes the opportunity to sit outside and get a healthy dose of vitamin D. She usually leaves school grounds completely but there's something about today inciting a desire to sit on the football field for a change. As she makes her way onto the field she notices a small hooded figure hunched up in the top tier of the bleachers. So she's not the only one who had the genius idea to take advantage of the sun and sit outside for a few hours. Except she gets the feeling her counterpart didn't come out here for the same reasons. Actually, she looks like she's hiding, probably skipping class - but actually at school? Nobody's that dumb.
Most people would leave it alone, but Chloe being Chloe, she just has to investigate. She makes her way across the field and hitches her way up the bleachers until she reaches the top row. The hooded figure doesn't notice her impending arrival of course - well, they're too busy burying their face in their knees to take in their surroundings - so when Chloe places a hand on their shoulder and offers a sheepish "Hi.." it really isn't that much of a surprise when the hooded figure jumps to their feet and brushes the redhead's hand off abruptly. She's standoffish - yes, it turns out the hooded figure is a she which actually surprises Chloe a little, but she doesn't let it show - as she sways lightly on the balls of her feet, her eyes scanning their way up and down Chloe's body like she's weighing up her options of whether to run or not. The look of contempt on her face says the former is a more probable outcome. The lack of words emanating from the girl's mouth agree. But she hasn't moved yet so Chloe takes this as a good sign.
"I didn't mean to scare you.." Chloe finally breaks the silence. She's nervous for some reason, the sight of the girl before her making a feeling of unease settle within her. She's small, like really small, and her hair's a rich shade of brown - despite the odd tints of deep red here and there that Chloe assumes are the remnants of an attempt at experimenting with her appearance. The hair dye, coupled with the tattoos, excessive eyeliner and lack of exposed skin in and around her ears gives Chloe reason enough to form a half accurate judgement of the girl. But Chloe prides herself on not judging people based on their appearance - because she knows they only make up a fraction of a person. She also knows there's a lot more to this girl than meets the eye, there usually is, so she reserves her judgement until she's had a real conversation with the girl.
"Did you want something?" The tone in her voice is harsher than intended - Beca realises - but she's really not in the mood to make small talk right now.
"I just wanted to check if you were okay. Not that I could tell much from the distance, but you seemed kind of upset." The hurt in Chloe's eyes instantly makes the brunette feel guilty.
"I'm fine." She softens a little from the guilt. "Really, I'm just hiding here because I didn't want to go to class." She pauses for a second, trying to gauge a reaction from the other girl before continuing, "I'm supposed to be taking a test right now but I didn't revise for it so.." The brunette's words fade off, hoping the redhead gets the idea.
Chloe knows there's more to it - like why didn't she just go home instead? and why does she look like she's been crying for the last half hour? - but she doesn't push the matter any further because she barely knows this girl and she doesn't feel like it's her right to pry. She smiles warmly at the brunette as she says "can't say I haven't done that myself before." She pauses for a moment as she contemplates her next question, "do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?"
The question takes the brunette by surprise, she expected the other girl to leave it at that and walk away, but instead she's consciously choosing to stay with her - she has to ask why, but maybe not this minute. "Sure." It's a simple answer but apparently it's enough because the redhead smiles back at her again as she takes a seat on the bench and pats an area next to her, indicating for her to sit down.
"I'm Chloe, by the way."
"Beca." The brunette nods solemnly to herself.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of the mid-afternoon sun penetrating their skin. But Chloe can't leave it alone, she just can't let it go. "Are you sure you're alright, it's just.. you look like you've been crying and I'm a really good listener if you need somebody to talk to."
Beca lets out an exasperated sigh as she rolls her head back, shuts her eyes tightly, and wrinkles her nose in thought. "There aren't enough hours in the day to talk through all my problems - I'd really just run right now if I were you, you don't want to get caught up in all this." She says as she waves a hand over herself.
But this girl's persistent. "Try me."
Beca actually considers it for a minute. Chloe seems like a nice enough girl, and she's yet to make a condescending comment about her 'alternative appearance' or blatant disinterest in school, so maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to open up to her - nobody else has offered to lend an ear, after all. But then again, does she really want to go down this route with a total stranger. Beca has a habit of unraveling completely when someone, anyone, actually asks twice if she's okay. It doesn't happen often, maybe never in fact, so she's really struggling to turn the offer down. Alas, her need to talk about what's going on in her head is overruled by her need to isolate herself from the rest of the world - she refuses to bring yet another person down with all her problems. So instead she offers up a noncommittal "maybe another time" as she crosses one arm over her chest protectively and anxiously bites the nail on her left thumb before gripping the bench beneath her; her knuckles whitening with the intensity of her grasp.
She'd be lying if she said wasn't disappointed at Beca's refusal - she was sure she saw the cogs turn in the brunette's head as she contemplated her response, and she was positive she saw an initial glimmer of hope in the girl's eyes when she made the offer. That hope was instantly replaced with sorrow though and Chloe couldn't help but feel useless as she watched the walls rise again in the brunette's constriction.
She doesn't know this girl, she's never had a single conversation with her before today. But there's something inside her, an overwhelming urge telling her to stay, to comfort, to console. A need to show this girl that she wants to help her, in any way that she can. So she does. She doesn't exactly know how to because this girl isn't like most other girls their age - she doesn't strike Chloe as the type to willingly accept a hug from a stranger, or the type to break down and bare her soul to the first person who'll listen. No. She seems like the type who bottles everything up and plasters the biggest smile possible on her face so people don't ask questions. She's the type who rolls her eyes at herself because the phrase I'm fine. has become so much like second nature to her it almost escapes her lips as frequently as a breath of oxygen. She's the type of girl who puts on a show every single day and goes home every single night and cries herself to sleep because she managed to get through yet another day without a single person noticing how broken she is on the inside - she can't really blame anyone but herself though, she has had the act mastered since the ripe old age of 12.
She's that girl. It's obvious, and yet at the same time, it's the hardest thing in the world to spot. Chloe knows this, better yet, she gets this. Because she's that girl too, and you wouldn't think it by looking at her. But isn't that the point?
So the overwhelming urge to help this girl is burning a hole in her chest, she just can't not do something, and that's where Chloe Beale's greatest problem lies - she values everyone else's well-being above her own.
After a few moments of silence and hesitation, Chloe settles on the simple gesture of resting her hand on the bench; the side of her hand grazing Beca's. It's not much but when Chloe feels a set of fingers trace over her own before slipping underneath the palm of her hand and curling up tightly into a ball, she knows it's everything to this one girl.
They never mention it, but both girls are fairly certain that one moment was all it took to the seal their friendship. They didn't have to say anything, they barely had to do anything, they just had to be there for one another. That's all it took, that's all they needed. But nothing ever lasts; not in this world and certainly not for these girls.
A/N: So I'm still trying to work out if this is actually going to work as a story. As a prologue this is only supposed to set the tone, and introduce their friendship through a flashback, but I still feel like this is pretty vague. I'm interested to know what you all think of this, the next chapter should make the story a little clearer as to where I'm taking this - at least I hope so - so I'd really appreciate some reviews :)
P.S. I have a serious issue with POV and tense. I sway between the characters POV subconsciously and sometimes it works out okay but if you notice a glaringly obvious switch be sure to let me know; I have tried to seperate the changes as clearly as possible by putting the line breaks in but ye, I don't always pick up on it. The tense thing - I'm just really indecisive, I apologise for that.