x any 1st person POV xx change in POV

x

This could have gone down worse. I could have actually gone through with the whole thing and THEN hear about…him. Yeah, I guess it could have gone worse. Actually, maybe it's better this way. No harm no foul, right? I mean who was I kidding, there was no fucking way that this was actually going to work out in anything but a heartbreak on my part.

Exhibit A, my heart plastered all over my bedroom floor.

After all those years of pining, you'd think you get to a point where these situations have minimal effect on you and you can strut through life as unfazed as ever. But life doesn't like working in the way people think it should.

And so, it hurts.
Every. Single. Time.

And it's not like it doesn't hurt to see her any other day either. Every moment I'm left to my own accords and thinking of how she would never know chips away a new part of heart. I'm not sure how much more of that my heart could take. It's not like I haven't tried to never let it begin. I've pushed her away from the first time our eyes met because, those eyes. My god, those eyes. I knew they were trouble as soon as laying my own on them caused a several skipped heartbeats. But she had to come barging into the shower. And my fucking GOD. With all that oozing confidence to top it off.

And then her voice.

It's just impossible how perfect she is. And so naturally, I ended up joining something that was never in my books, acapella.

So, to be honest, I may have been sold then and there. But, it was probably just the physical attraction. I mean, LOOK at her. How can one not even sort of feel a tingling after an encounter with her? So, it was just physical attraction at first. Most likely. Possibly? I don't know. Anyway, the point is, I tried. I veered away from her during practice only to be held down from behind to practice the dance routine. I sought out Jesse to take my mind off things because boy, can the dude talk. Although all his talking did make me mentally mute him and just continued lingering thoughts on a certain redhead. So maybe, I wasn't trying so hard but, to be fair, I didn't know at the time. I was doing just fine with the unknown existence of, things. And then, I was already too late.

I blame Fat Amy and Stacie for all this. And Posen. As a matter of fact, all of them. Maybe not legacy. Maybe, I'm still deciding if she really is innocent—now that the Bellas have had a few years to taint her soul, she may have turned to the dark side. Why did they have to tell me that I have the, whatever, for her that it got me thinking about things that I shouldn't have consciously been thinking about. Subconscious thinking is totally fine, because I don't really know what I'm doing when I'm doing it! BUT, knowingly thinking about things that I do, or did, or was planning to do is, most definitely NOT FINE. It is the opposite of fine, it is un-fine, it is super uncool. It's ugh.

And then so things, stuff, feelings, had to get real and being a sneaky bastard, it had to creep up to my head for me to actually be conscious of things, stuff, feelings, whatever.

And as with all things regarding her, it was up and personal. It was everywhere. It was always there in my face, in my personal space, in my head. She snuck up and stole my heart, no, no. She outright walked right through all my gates and safeguards—all the alarms and locks—and simply grabbed it and then walked back out with it. I mean, who DOES that? I mean, I had all my guards up and I was being super shut-off and anti-social. The audacity of that girl. The hold that girl has on me. I swear to god, she will be the death of me. And that is how I will be remembered:

Conflicted soul, Beca Mitchell. Death at the hands of Chloe Beale. She took her heart.

After I was force-fed the information that I was "head over heels" in love with my best friend, as fate would have it, every day has been in agony. Why did they have to divulge this to me, oh I don't know, to see me shrivel up and DIE? That's what they want, they want me to see me squirm and squeal and be as uncomfortable as I can for punishing them with cardio and stuff. But don't they do enough of punishing me with the consistent movie nights? Which, by the way is not helping with my condition at all, seeing that I happen to be her designated cuddle buddy. Especially after tonight, I don't think I'll be making it to any of the movie nights.

I mean how stupid was I, going over, thinking that I had slimmer of a chance at getting the girl? I appeal to no one. Literally, no one. I'm short-tempered, I'm closed off, I shut people out when it gets uncomfortable, I take too long to return phone calls or texts, I hate physical activities, I hate movies, I can't cook, I am…

"Hopeless."

That's it. That's what I am. I am devoid of hope. I'm hopelessly stuck in a situation that has no exits apparently. It was one-way door to eternal heartbreak and someone's got me locked in with a key. I'm hopelessly lost in where I have to go from this point. I'm hopelessly ill-fitted to even consider applying for a position to be her "one." But I am hopeless and utterly in love with the girl. Only to find out that I am hopelessly out of luck.

Oh fuck.

"Beca? What happened in here?"

Shit. It's...

Oh okay, semi-shit. It's only Fat Amy.

xx

"Hey…" The peep of a response was all Fat Amy could go on to find her tiny DJ friend in the hot pile of mess of a room. She thought her room was a mess but, apparently some kind of mini shit storm roamed passed this room sending everything flying all over. But, still know sign of the brunette so she kicked the towel on the floor aside, sidestepping to avoid what seemed to be broken shards of glass? Even considering it was a suite, there really is nowhere else to hide so she should've have seen a lock of hair or something by now. But, alas, still no DJ. She was starting to get a little bit worried since she thinks she spotted blood on the floor but couldn't really tell.

"Beca?" She called out with a bit more volume this time, straining her ears to try to pinpoint where the voice might be coming from. A moment went by and no answer. As she was planning on shouting this time when, a weak whisper of a "…here" could be heard inside the bathroom. And of course, it had to be the one place that she hadn't searched yet. But in her defense, the bathroom didn't have the lights on so she didn't bother to check. And besides, it's kind of a breach of privacy to just barge in.

Fat Amy chuckled at what a certain redhead might have done in this situation as she made her way back to the bathroom she had passed on her way in to the bedroom portion of the suite. But instead of voicing out her thoughts, she steered to a conversation pertaining to the reason she had come up here in the first place. "Where'd you disappear to Shawshank? We were looking to celebrate your awesome performance. You crushed it! I know, I know, we had our moment on stage there but, you know youhaven't celebrated until you've tasted my…Beca?"

Any hint of amusement that lingered on Fat Amy's face fell, just as her heart did, upon opening the bathroom door.

A/N: Okay, so yeah. I didn't realize that the ending of this chapter may implicate that something really bad may have happened but it isn't...? I just needed an ending and this seemed like a good place...I mean if I could choose everything this would be labeled as romance/angst/humor/friendship so...yeah. Thanks for reading! ;)