Meant to be a one-shot but dayUM this is really long. Split into two/three parts. Once they're all finished I'll probably group'em.
._.
It's kind of weird.
Impractical.
Indistinguishable.
Interchangeable.
Undeniable.
To think that for one moment I was there, and now I'm here. Suffering in this silent agony of a mixture between solitude and isolation, the loneliness of an irrevocably mangled soul. To think, it was only the utterance of two words spoken. Spoken, rejected –discarded. An object loved and cared, caressed to the bone since the day of its creation. Made sure to be happy and satisfied till the end of time, a guarantee that was promised through words and affection.
And then…
"I'm gay."
There was that pregnant pause of a tension thick enough to drown the strongest divers of the sea, seeping and muddling through the entire house itself. Silence –trembling with a jaw fixed upwards and fists clenched in a useless form of willpower. Shaking from the tip of existence to the edge of death, thoughts nearly reverberating the walls of the darkening room. Struggling to be calm through the self-reassurance of they love me they love me they love me they love me…
"Pack your bags, and get outta my house."
"Phil…I don't-"
"You shut your mouth Mary!"
It just came crashing, pulling and tugging down at my knees and arms of the one question of why? The worst of fears to come true, apprehension mingling into the distaste of iron blood leaking through cracked lips. Distressed with a heart that refused to beat at the properly distinguished time.
"Get out! Get out get out get OUT!"
On the literal terms of being pushed and shoved as if I was back in the wild first grade lines of elementary school. A bag was pitifully shoved into my hands before the door was slammed shut, cutting off any means of retorts I could have possibly given, pleads at the least. And it all happened so fast, too fast for my surprised, let alone mortified thoughts to comprehend.
But it was over. And I wasn't wanted, nor needed. Surely I could've tried, bang and yell at the barrier that separated their two-faced expressions. Tell them –hell, scream to them that I was "just joking!"That everything was a just a joke, and that this whole thing was a social experiment for psychology. Pretty believable.
I didn't even bother.
Not a bang or imploring yell of reasoning. I just turned –and walked. For hours and hours. Thinking and mumbling of how did this happen? Why and who and what and is it truly my fault? Should I feel sorrow or regret? Remorse or –freedom? Betrayed or alive?
Revulsion and convulsion.
Coming onto the literal terms now well into the abandoned-like highway of Texas after a full day had gone by –just stopping and allowing the realization of this isn't some fucked up dream to be slapped onto my neck, bringing a bubble of spine-raking sobs to finally be shattered and cried out across the evening sky. Infidelity. Living a counterfeit life filled with the fake words of "We'll love you till the end of time Becs." Fake fake fake fake fake.
Love.
Trust.
Hope.
Conviction.
All that archetypal stuff.
As it stood –was to never again be given, nor accepted. To be refrained and guided away through means of glares and snarls, sass and attitude. I am alone, and wish to stay alone everlastingly. Enduringly. Eternally. Put straight:
Forever.
…
And ever.
…
And ever.
…
And fucking ever.
…
…
…
And then she butt into my life.
Plainly spoken at the sight of her nude form entering my shower stall.
Not even the first week of college had passed by.
College? is what you're thinking, am I correct?
Kicked out and homeless at sixteen, m-hm. Sixteen, yes, with nothing but a bag filled with a single bottle of water, some chips, and my wallet.
So how did I do it? Good question. And not very hard to explain believe it or not.
Seventeen and hitch-hiking with the hippies to Louisiana, smoking with the bums, and attending odd jobs at the local gas station. Eighteen –jacking my first car in Mississippi, breaking-and-entering on accounts to the gnawing pain at my stomach, and relaxing in the local libraries of Alabama. Nineteen and realizing that I'm not stupid. Education is key no doubt –but self-motivation happens to remain lower than my care for others.
Twenty–I witness the death of a shriveled old woman who had been sharing the alleyway with me. Smoking is quickly put to an end and a bank account is created, obtaining three bar jobs in the suburbs of Georgia.
Twenty-one. Two encounters of close-calls concerning molestation.
Twenty-two, through the funds, tips, and bonuses of the two years before, I'm accepted into Barden University.
Education. Is. The key to survival. Granted, suicide has come to mind. A lot. Like, to an amount that would concern the average human being. But every time I came close to committing the sin, I just –couldn't. And no, it wasn't the cheesy, typical feeling that god had touched my soul, encouraging me on through the hardships of life. It was a feeling of an even larger sense, overtaking my frustration and anguish. Failure, giving into them. The two damn people who raised me, and left me to die. I'll show them. By surviving. The bastards left me to fend off for myself, probably expecting me to meet the fate of the same woman who had passed away just adjacent to myself.
Well. Fuck them.
…
"You can sing!"
"Dude!"
So there. First day of college and the start to the worst relationship ever to come into existence. Or at least from my perspective it was. Luck on my part to pick the university with the craziest redhead ever to live.
And this girl.
This chick.
This five year old stuck in the body of a twenty-three year old.
Chloe fucking Beale. The most annoying, infuriating, exasperating, and absolutely drop-dead gorgeous woman I've ever come to meet. Utterly optimistic to the point where it proved to be just overbearing. One of those people impossible to keep still, let alone quiet for a maximum of five minutes. She was too bright, too scintillating in personality and characteristics. Whimsical in her own mischievous way. An illuminating piece of the sun that had been forcefully branded onto my brain.
It was just impossible to get my mind off that girl.
How she did it still remains a mystery to this day. Because all of a sudden I found myself auditioning for some stupid acapella group, the Bella Barden or something. And next thing you know I'm sneering a (perhaps) genuine smile, doing my best to disguise a chuckle with a cough. Singing to beats and discovering this eccentric talent I have towards the industry of music. And she's there right next to me, smiling with that peculiar aqua hued gaze. Beside her is the stick-up-her-ass Aubrey, sex driven Stacie, hella creepy Lilly, Fat Amy who's …well fat, totally a lesbian Cynthia, Kori, Mary, Denise, Ashley…or Jessica –Ashley and Jessica.
For a bit I'm –contented. Deniably happy, not depressed. Cautious and wary, careful not to get too attached.
And right I was to do so, after getting kicked out at an attempt to "spark" things up my own way, thinking that maybe I really did have a talent for this kind of stuff. A knowing knack. Something I'd actually enjoy in the future. Music –maybe a possibility for my future?
"I told you she wasn't a Bella."
"Aubrey, don't…"
"No. That's okay." I smiled at her, the most indisputable I could possibly summon. "You don't have to pretend you're allowed to have a say in the group, right?"
Music was out, and I was subjected back to the little comfort of my dorm. Something I had deplorably decided to invest my small account of money on, settling on working hard for a scholarship to help boost tuition for the following year's payment. Bad idea as it supposed since, well, school's boring. Like, hella boring. Even my previous habit to casual visits at random libraries were far more entertaining than droning lectures. And joining the Bella's had seemed to be the liveliest thing I had ever associated myself with in a long, long time.
Nonetheless, I kept myself busy, installing a self-driven study hall and continuing one out of the three jobs at the bars. The one, of course, closest to Barden. Ten minutes away by cab, thirty-five by feet. Also not a good idea, as I was forced to greet in an awkwardly polite way to the familiar faces of students I was really not in the mood to see, let alone talk to.
"Beca!"
Of course this was bound to happen at some point. After all, it was hard not to hear about the redheads drinking addiction.
"Holy –fucking…Chloe! What the hell?" I had to struggle keep my breathing under control as she gracefully slid off my back from her surprise hug/tackle that left me feeling extremely uncomfortable.
"I didn't know you worked here," she beamed, sitting at the unoccupied, two -seated table to our left and motioning for me to sit as well. "Honestly, I didn't know you worked at all."
"Well," I offered her a typical not-in-the-moodgrin. "Surprise surprise. Now if you'll excuse me…" whipping out a wash cloth from the back of my only pair of black slacks (which, in my current situation, had cost nearly a fortune) and sliding it across her table before snapping it back into my back pocket. "…I have work to do Beale. What can I get for you?"
Only business, strictly work. I really didn't have any spare time for foolish hormones or sentiments.
"When do you get off?" Ignores me. Why am I not surprised?
"Late," I bluntly replied, clutching my notepad and pen expectedly.
"Then I'll wait!"
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Seriously Clo-"
"I'm not hearing it!" she quickly cut over, a pair of ear buds magically produced from the tips of her fingers and stuffed into her ears.
"Chloe. Chloe I –for re-" She made no signs of hearing me. Only proceeding to an incessant bobbing head motion. Idiot. Fine, it's no doubt she'll get bored sooner or later. After all, my shift didn't end until late into the wee hours of the night, three AM to be exact. As if now, the time read eight-thirty five PM.
Hey, the practical needs of life calls. Night shift pays better.
"Fine," I raised my hands in surrender and turned away. "Fine fine fine."
So I kept at my station, occasionally switching shifts between cleaning, organizing, and serving. A tequila here and there, couple of dishes needing to be collected and washed. Conversation was limited between customers, rarely manager and co-workers. That's the good thing about this particular bar. The night shift was generally less crowded than the other bars I had worked at.
"Hey," an unusual exchange was initiated at around eleven ten PM between me and Jesse, a fellow stationed bartender. He's nice, but that's just about it.
"What's up?"
"You notice that girl over there?" he tipped his chin in her direction. "She's been jamming out to her music for a couple hours now and hasn't bought a single thing. Think we should kick her out or something?"
"Ehhh…" Why not? Make her and my life a lot easier. "Be my guest," I smirked, continuing to wipe carefully at the glass shot-cup.
He raised an eyebrow and frowned. "You wouldn't happen to know her would you?"
"Nope," I replied with not a second's hesitation, staring intently at the sparkling cup in my hands. "Not even at the slightest. Really, her face isn't ringing any bells. At all."
"You didn't even look at her."
"Still ain't recognizing anything," I rambled on, taking the cloth and mindlessly wiping at the edges. "Now go do your job."
There was only a grumble before his presence finally disappeared. Looking up, I watched with an amused expression as he strode up to her. Her headphones were plucked out delicately as she listened to his polite explanation, doing the naturally-born supposedly "cute" hand gestures that usually had women falling like bricks atop of him. There was a nod of her head, and a split-second flick of her eyes towards my location, successfully notifying me that she was well aware of my observation of this discussion. Then her focus was back on Jesse, a radiating smile as her order was written onto his notepad.
"Two small shots of beer," back to me while he prepared the drinks. "One for herself…and one for you."
"Ugh," this time I did roll my eyes. "I don't want it. You take it."
"It was ordered for you," he turned suddenly, shoving the cup into my hands. "You drink it." Then he was gone, around the counter and heading towards the endlessly beaming woman.
So.
Chloe. Fucking. Beale. Refusing to take a hint through all the glares carefully packaged and sent her way as I downed the beer in a single gulp. Chloe. Fucking. Beale. Still sitting there with her headphones in, staring me down and sipping quietly at her drink as the tip of her exclusive boot tapped at the wooden flooring.
Eleven PM turned into one AM, and one AM soon ticked by into two AM. Next thing you know, its two fifty-five AM and Jesse's already long gone, his shift finishing an hour before mine. And this chick. This stubborn, beautiful chick. Still managing to obtain the very definition of perfection with her legs stretched carelessly underneath the table and figure leaning ever so slightly back. Eyes closed, lips parted to partake a breath every second or so. For a moment, I was truly tempted to just leave her like that. It'll honestly save me quite the amount of unnecessary chatter with this woman.
But –c'mon. I'm not that mean.
"Alright," I plopped down into the chair across from her, letting out a heavy sigh as I unclipped my name tag and nonchalantly began unbuttoning my black button down to reveal the black tank top underneath. "What is it you want Beale?"
Her eyes were peeked open, a large grin curving her lips upwards as she let out a large yawn and began to absentmindedly stretch her joints. "Yeesh Mitchell," she finally spoke through a voice heavily layered with bleariness. "You put up quite the hard bargain."
"M-hm, ya yeah." I began picking at my nail, anything to distract myself from her fucking gorgeous façade that I could just feel running with curiosity. "So what is it you wanted?"
"Alright!" There's the excitement. "This is some pretty important news that I was gonna just text you at first since you've been ghosting off campus for the past two weeks, but luckily I found you here! Because now, I can tell it to you face to face!"
"Hooray," was my not-really-excited response as I continued picking at my nails. "Do tell."
"Okay. Well first, look at me."
"Seriously Beale, were not in some fucking movi-"
"C'mon Becs," she interrupted, and I immediately stiffened in my movements. "Just oblige for once will you?"
The nickname is what threw me off, it being the most commonly used label by my poor excuse for a mother. So when I looked up, I didn't see Chloe. I saw my mother and her smile, felt her teasing bear hugs and reassuring fingers that slid through my hair on our braid nights. The last gaze of pure shame and pity as the obstruction was gashed across and I found myself suddenly being hit with a longing pain that hadn't been resurfaced since my lower teen years; returning with enough force to knock the breath momentarily out of my chest and send a rippling slash across the barriers of my well constructed walls.
I wanted a hug. A kiss to the cheek. An "Everything's going to be alright honey". I wanted to be cared for. Concerned for. Worried for.
To put it simply, I wanted my mom.
Pathetic in a sense. No doubt it was probably my sleep and stress ridden form, not to mention that it also just happened to be "that time of the month", these all being the probable reason to this sudden sense of nostalgia. But fuck, of all the times for this to happen –it just had to be with Chloe Beale. The most gallingly concerned-over-everything redhead in the universe.
"Beca?" And shit. There it is. "Are you alright?"
"Ya ya," I waved her off, quickly ducking my head down and rubbing away the gathering liquid near the edge to my eyes. "I'm just –on my period and…couldn't stop thinking about the –um…endangered Yangtze River Dolphins…(?)"
"Ohhh." Of course only Chloe would buy such a poor explanation for an excuse. "I totally understand. Those dolphins are pretty adorable. You wanna hug?"
"No no!" I may have sauntered a little too fast. "It's fine it's fine it's fine! I'm just –…uhm…just tell me what you wanted to say and whatever." Because there's no way she'll let me leave if it doesn't come out.
"Oh, um, you sure Becs? You don't really look too go-"
"Don't call me that." For god's sake, get a hold of yourself Beca! I gave my eyes a final swipe and took in a calming breath, clearing any forms of wavering in my voice. I looked back up, all signs of emotion erased and hidden behind an expressionless mask. "Don't call me Becs. I have a name and would appreciate it if you'd use it correctly."
"Of course –Beca. Sorry." I nodded to her apology, urging her to hurry up and continue with a flick of my hand. "Soo, I was going to say that –we made it. Or at least, thanks to you, we…we got in!"
"Made what?" The fuck is she talking about holyfuck I just want to hurry up and sleep this angst off already…
"The Barden Bellas Beca! …Wow, that was a handful to say." Her usual giddy attitude was noticeably returning, having recovered from my previous harsher tone of voice already. "Were back! We're going to nationals! And…" she leaned unexpectedly forward, coming way too close for comfort and raising a hand up. "…it's all. Thanks. To you." With the last word spoken, her finger came into contact with my nose, emitting a small "boop" after touching it and proceeding to giggle as she sat back down.
"Um. Okay." As you can see, I was still very uncomfortable to the fact that my nose had just been "booped" by someone. Very very uncomfortable. "Cool. Hope you guys win."
"Oh but you have to come with us Beca! We got the score sheets back and without your awesome Bulletproof addition, there would have been no way we would've gotten the spot!"
"Sorry Chloe," I began stretching my knees and popping my shoulder blades before standing up. "But I got kicked out, remember?" I began walking away, offering a small wave from the back without even turning to look at her. "You guys can handle it. G'night."
"I –" There was a sputter, and then of course she was walking next to me as I exited the bar's doors. "I'll walk with you," she declared, not really giving me a choice as her arm was linked defiantly with mine. Touching me, our hips already swishing side by side as I continued to walk on. The warmth of another person –unfamiliar and foreign to my usual temperate temperature of the night. It didn't…feel right.
"Get off me," I tried, shrugging at her linked limb.
"Not a chance," and her appendage was tightened.
Obviously I glared at her, and obviously she only grinned back. Smiling that ray of sunshine that never failed to bring the fluttering wings of anxiety, rising and blossoming at the deep pits of my stomach and released through the form of an exasperated sigh. We continued to walk in silence, my unbuttoned shirt exposing skin at my torso and allowing it to be brushed against the scraggly material of her no doubt expensively bought coat. It was then when I realized that –jesus, it's hella freezing.
"You cold?" she asked, supposedly reading the very thoughts on my mind.
"Nope," I lied simply, countess nights in the cold allowing me to easily suppressing the shivers racing up my spine.
"You sure? Because I'm freezing!" With this said, she hunched further into her coat and –to my aversion –me as well.
"Yeah well," I tried shaking her off again, but to no avail unfortunately. "Us northerners are pretty use to this kind of weather, y'know?" Nailed it.
"Oh really? Where'd you live up there Miss Yeti?" Shit.
"Ehhh, y'know…" Shit shit. "Boston."
"Cool! Where in Boston?"
"Ra-dle," I blurted out.
"Radle?"
"Yeah, the city of…Radle. Little area, not really well-known." Improvising. Make it believable. "My parents have an apartment right on the edge of the harbor."
"That sounds nice." I could faintly see the outlines of the University now. Just need to stall her a little more…
"It is nice. Our family time especially when we'd climb up to the apartment's roof area and watch the sun set. So much orange and red and yellow, mashed with the colors of the ocean's translucent waves and all. Really cool. Picture perfect, right?"
"Oh wow…" I glanced over at her, taking in the way her eyes seemed to be mapping out the scenario described. "That sounds beautiful. You must really miss them huh?"
"M-hm…" Nah, not really.
"Well, Arizona born and raised," she grinned. "Sun burns, canyons, and running into cactus's galore."
"Running into cactus?"
"Yeah," she chortled. "My older brother can be pretty competitive when he feels like it."
"Huh."
"What about you? Any siblings?"
"Nope." Two more minutes until we'll reach the dorm faction. "Well, yes I guess if you count my cousin Natalie who's pretty much been there since I was out of the womb."
"Out of the womb huh?"
"Yeah…what?"
"Nothing," but I felt her figure shaking, a contorted snort caught as I peered over at her.
"Hey! What did I say?" but I was suddenly smiling with her, proper to saying that her laugh was indeed contagious. "What did I do?"
"Your choice of words -," another snort cut her off. "You choice of words are priceless Beca!"
"Yeah well, it is three in the morning…"
"True true," and now she was taking in deep breathes, slow to calm herself down. "Very true Beca, very true."
We drifted into a second lapse of silence, this one being less awkward then the first. Shortly, the steps were concluded, and I finally arrived at my designated area. She unlinked her arm, and to my damn luck of course a chilling wind happened to sweep by, immediately brining a teeth chattering chill to my entire body.
"Looks like the abominable snowman isn't as tough as she thought." I looked up and threw her a scowl, wrapping my hands around my arms and rubbing them together. Friction, equals warmth. Common knowledge of survival.
"Shut up."
"Oh c'mere." She swiftly took a step forward, and I of course took a step backwards. "Calm down Mitchell," her hands went around her neck, unwrapping the cotton knitted scarf and looping it over my bare nape. Already as the object came into contact with the back of my neck I could feel the previous warmth of her wavering off.
"Beale, what are you-"
With an unexpected tug of the two ends of the scarf, I was cut off from speech as she yanked me towards her, forcing herself into my personal bubble.
"Just looking out for you Becs," was the whispered breath of an answer I got, ended by a soft peck of lips atop my forehead. Budding and emerging a new feeling to the definition of flushing red since I could literally feel the burning of my face, tingling a pure sense of utter bafflement as her hands brushed away at my bangs and a single soft finger came to tilt my chin upwards, forcing me to stare into that thoroughly perplexing gaze. Becs she had called me. Did I not tell her to refrain from calling me that god forsaken pet name? Didn't I tell her, constantly and constantly to just go? All those times in the hallways where she did manage to catch me: "Leave me the fuck alone." So then why in god's name is she watching me with such an intensifying look of concern and worry. As if she was the one agonizing over this excruciating pain of fuck I really miss this feeling –sensational, incomprehensible, contemplative, unfathomable.
So I said the only thing that could come to mind.
"Uhhhm…"
She just hummed, smiling that sweet-knowing smile, circling her thumb on the meeting juncture of my ear and neck before stepping back while taking the sugary wafting lavender aroma with her. "I'll see you at tomorrow's practice Beca. Have a good night!" Then she was gone, warmth and all, turning and leaving a slap of icy wind to the face.
"Uh, 'night?"
One heartbeat passed, then a second, and a third. Slowly, dream-like, I rotated around, automated mode taking over as I headed back to my room. Thoughts ranging from did I just get seduced to sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep.
I collapsed onto my bed, hands instinctively reaching for the red scarf still wrapped around my neck.
"Just looking out for you Becs."
Becs.
Becs.
Becs.
"Hey Becs!" It was mom, calling to me as I entered the front door. First day of high school, awful and revolting to an extraordinary level. "How'd your first day go kiddo?"
"Oh my gosh mom!" I ran into the kitchen area where a pan of lasagna could be seen cooking from the oven. By far my favorite dish. "Mom mom mom mom!"
"Yes yes yes yes Beca?" she answered in her teasing voice.
"High school sucks!" I groaned, accepting her outstretched arms and thunking my head onto her chest. "Sucks sucks sucks."
"It's only the first day kid," she chuckled. "Don't think too hard on it."
"Ugh. Fine."
"Love you Becs."
"Love you too mom."
Her voice, echoing and fusing as I slept. Distinct hiccups of a sob, simmering and crackling into her pitch as the words where repeated over and over. Still being perceived as I finally drifted off into a restless dream filled with the dank noises of an alleyway, malevolent dark eyes of a man following and twisting around me as I ran towards the comfort of a house that would repeatedly keep refusing on all levels of all reasoning to just fucking let me in!
"Yo Beco!" Dad, waving to me as he jogged over, a tool box grasped in one hand and hammer in the other. "Heard you were trying to build yourself a car for the science fair!"
I looked down at the mixed mess of wood and nails, peering back up to his shrewd smirk. "Please?" I asked, offering a crooked smile.
"Of course Beca," he laughed, bending down to ruffle my hair. "Anything for you kiddo."
"Yeah!" I hooted, throwing a fist up in an already foreseen victory. "We're gonna win this!"
"Oh yeah!" he joined in. "Let's do this!"
It was told that our cheers could be heard from across the neighborhood. Or more importantly, even after the completion in which we evidently ended up losing in the end.
"The important thing is that we tried our best, right Beca?"
"Yeah!" I beamed, struggling with my feet to keep up with his sprints. Behind us, the sounds of a very angry mother's curse words were beginning to fade away.
"Good good, now let's go get some ice-cream and this time actually eat it instead of pelting it at another winner of a science fair. Cool?"
"Cool!" I grinned.
But I just couldn't stop, awakening with cold sweat slinking down my temples as I grasped at the downy scarf, burying myself into its placating aroma. Fucking hell. I hate them, I hate them god damn it I hate them. It's over. I shouldn't be feeling this rippling cascade around the titanium of a chest's barricaded borders, weakening and contracting like the loosening life force of the old woman's fingers around my own. The way her azure gawk reflected off both our dilated pupils, a consoling sense of it's finally over washing over her mind while I was left scarred at the sight of her vacant shades boring into my chest. Her body, dragged into the street and watched over until a scream pierced the air of "She's dead! Oh my god she's dead! Jackson, call the police!"
Her name was Animus, an immigrant from Greece.
Animus.
Alive.
Living and breathing.
Not fucking dead.
…
Left
to
rot...
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…
Lovely people, feel free to review.
.-.
