A/N: For Bechloe week, Day 1: Loss.
Chapter Rating: T
"Yeah, but how do you ever know if someone likes you? Even if they say it, you never really know."
Jesse shrugs, unfazed by her negativity, his arm slung casually over her shoulder, "I like you."
"But how do I know you're not just saying that?" Unconvinced, Beca fiddles with her headphone jack. "What reassurance will I ever have?"
"I guess none," he admits after a silence. "But, I mean, you can spend all your time and effort being paranoid and cynical, or you can just believe in something…nice."
"Well, what if they don't say anything. In those cases, how can you tell?"
With a nervous laugh, he muses, "I guess, by their behavior? Like you hung out with me and I mean, you kissed me, so there's that."
"Whatever," she changes the subject. "Let's go to Sonic."
Bouncing to his feet, Jesse helps her up, "Why?"
"I don't know," answers Beca. "I just wonder if she likes me back."
A well-discussed topic, he merely gives her a sympathetic look, "She does."
"You're really okay talking about this?"
"Hey," he holds his hands up defensively. "I was the one who suggested exploring our options before committing."
"Yeah, okay." She slugs his shoulder playfully, "You're not so bad, Swanson."
The next morning she wakes with a throbbing headache, her ears ringing, and a sore throat. For fuck's sake, it's summer; this is not the season she typically gets ill. Assuming it's simply allergies, Beca dresses for the day – work and then dinner with Chloe and Cynthia-Rose.
About halfway through the day she acquires a cough.
Beca pauses.
Luke looks at her. He opens his mouth-
"I know," Beca grumbles. "Strict no germs policy. It's just allergies."
He looks at her dubiously, but doesn't press any further.
And then just before dinner she sneezes.
Cynthia-Rose happens to witness it as she turns the corner to meet up with her. "Whoa there, getting sick, DJ?"
"Allergies," Beca insists.
"If you're sure."
"Order some orange juice," Chloe supplies helpfully as they sit down at a patio table. "It helps if your throat hurts."
Beca makes a disgusted face.
"Fine," the redhead tosses her hair back. "Suffer then!"
"It's just allergies!"
Beca pats herself down frantically. No. No, this is not good at all. She checks one more time, flipping her pockets inside out (tissues and coins falling to the floor) searching for her room key. With a curse, she flings a quarter down the hallway.
It's too late to call student support services for the master key and Kimmy Jin spends Thursday nights at her boyfriend's. (Calling Kimmy Jin is the likely solution, but Beca's never had the guts to ask her for her number.)
She pulls out her phone and dials Chloe's number, she's the only one nearby with an apartment. As it rings, Beca feels her nose starting to run and she pulls out a tissue.
"Hello?"
"Hey, can I ask for a huge favor?"
Yes and yes it turns out. Relieved, Beca hangs up.
Then she chases after the quarter, 'cause money is money.
"Thanks for putting up with me for a night," Beca says before breaking out into another fit of coughs.
Concernedly, Chloe presses the back of her hand to Beca's forehead. "You're kind of warm, are you okay?"
"Allergies," Beca answers for what must be the millionth time.
"You want some chicken noodle soup? That always makes me feel better," she smiles, already headed to the kitchen.
"I guess I can't say no to that."
"Urgh," Beca groans as the sunlight streams in through the curtains. "Too early," she rasps, her words barely making it out of her mouth.
She clears her throat and tries again, "Early." It's still fairly hoarse, so she gets up to take a drink of water.
Surprisingly, Chloe's already up and cooking breakfast in the kitchen, dancing around, one earbud dangling around her neck. Afraid of waking Beca, she hums quietly under her breath. She thrusts her hip to the side along with the music.
Amused, Beca watches the display from the living room divide, crossing her arms.
Finally after an overenthusiastic spin, Chloe notices her, and rips her earphones out of her ear. "Oh good morning!"
"Morning," Beca croaks. "Water, please?" Her voice is noticeably getting worse.
But even after she takes a few large gulps, her throat still constricts, closing around her words.
"I'm losing my voice," she states the obvious.
"Maybe you should see a doctor."
Chloe picks up the phone and finally Beca confesses.
"I might be sick."
"I'm thinking it's laryngitis," Dr. Spachemin pats her knee comfortingly.
"You think?"
"Well, the dangling thing in the back of your mouth is swollen too, so you might also have some sort of fatal disease, I'm not sure!"
Beca hops off the examination table as Chloe looks at the doctor critically, "Well can you prescribe something?"
"It's called a fatal disease for a reason, Ms. Beale," he laughs amicably. "Oh! You mean the laryngitis. Sure, here, take this twice a day for four days. Or is that four times a day for two days? Either way, you'll figure it out." His broad grin never fades as he hands a small bag to Chloe.
Suspiciously, Chloe takes it and waves a farewell as they leave.
"Now where did I put my stetho-thingy?"
"That doctor sucked," Beca wheezes as she gets into the car, coughing again.
Chloe shushes her, "Rest your voice, it sounds awful."
She rolls her eyes, but acquiesces.
Parked cautiously, Chloe shouts, "Wait! Stay in the car!" She slams her side shut and rushes to the passenger side and opens the door. "Okay, come out."
Remembering her promise to keep silent, Beca simply sighs and shakes her head at the other girl's behavior. But as she climbs out, Chloe hooks one arm under her knees and the other grips under her back, and she lifts Beca bridal style.
"What the?" Beca attempts to protest, but surprisingly, Chloe holds her quite stably, her embrace solid. "This is not ne-"
"Hush," Chloe says, effectively shutting her up, as Beca's arms flail to encircle her neck, "You weigh next to nothing."
And she carries Beca all the way to the elevator before setting her down as they wait to ascend to the fifth floor.
Beca attempts to argue with Chloe, but the redhead keeps glaring at her every time she opens her mouth. Being coddled isn't something Beca's ever dealt with well.
But Chloe insists on carrying her to the couch where she deposits her "small package for Ms. Beale" carefully (Beca mutters something about it being so offensive). And she insists on covering Beca in fifty blankets and lays Beca's head on her lap. And she insists on watching Grey's Anatomy episodes back to back ("You have to watch this when you're sick").
About halfway through the third episode, Beca dozes off to the sound of Dr. Cristina Yang talking about food and the feeling of Chloe's warm fingers dancing across her back.
The sun is just setting as Beca comes to, her head still nestled in Chloe's lap. She shifts slowly and confirms that Chloe's snoozing, her face very peaceful. Beca's eyes trace over her features, from her eyelashes that are lit with the dwindling sunlight to her mouth, set in a relaxed line.
There's a tightening of her chest as she watches Chloe's steady inhale and exhale.
Beca's not stupid; she's spent lots of her time with both Jesse and Chloe, and she'd be lying if she said that the two of them weren't competing for a top spot in her affections unwittingly. With Jesse, his open reciprocation of her feelings is one of the things she likes best about him. There's no doubts really, no second guessing, his interest in her so obvious from the get go. But Chloe's only hinted, never outright explained herself, and more than anything Beca is skeptical that she likes her beyond a friendship's threshold.
So she watches, she looks, she searches for clues.
But even at her most vulnerable, Chloe's face is inscrutable, a darkness swallowing them up.
"I made you some more soup," Chloe whispers, nudging her awake gently hours later.
"Thanks," Beca's voice is less than a croak now, her condition having not improved in the slightest. A few spoonfuls in, Beca notices that the other girl is still watching her, a small smile on her face. "What?"
"Oh? Nothing." But she still doesn't turn away, her gaze unwavering.
Miserably, Beca blows her nose yet again, and discards the tissue into the nearby wastebasket. Honestly, the medication Dr. Spachemin prescribed isn't having much effect.
"You feeling okay?"
"No," she whispers, taking the majority of the strain off her voice.
"Hmm, do you want to watch a movie?"
Beca shakes her head and asks, "Sing?"
"You want me to sing to you?"
She nods.
"Hm, okay. What song?"
She shrugs to indicate she doesn't care.
"Okay, well," Chloe thinks for a moment before singing a song Beca's never heard before.
She closes her eyes and lets Chloe thread her fingers through her hair, the sound of her voice a pure comfort on its own.
She wakes to rain; the pitter-pattering of soft droplets, the wet streaks clinging to the windows distorting the imagery outside, the low rumble of clouds in the distance, all particularly vivid in her moment of waking. Perhaps even more surprising is when she turns around and sees Chloe in the other chair, simply reading, turning the pages carefully as if afraid of provoking the paper.
"Hey," she whispers, the quiet sound enough to divert Chloe's attention from her story.
She smiles so beautifully, a fluid motion that comes to her so easily, her eyes brimming with emotion. And Beca thinks, yes, maybe Jesse's right: it's in her behavior and gestures.
She can't talk, but maybe she should've been listening all along.
It's in the words she doesn't say.
Beca types out what she wants to say on her phone and shows Chloe.
What do you think of Jesse?
"Jesse?" Chloe's eyebrow raises questioningly. "He's okay, I guess."
That's all?
"Why?" She's suspicious now, but Beca answers truthfully.
I want to know what you think of him.
"Well," Chloe seems reluctant to speak of the person in question, but dutifully answers anyway, "I guess he's cute, like a puppy. He's nice, not like most of the Trebles. Uhm, he's kind of funny, I guess. But there are lots of people who are like that. I don't know Beca, I don't know him very well. You could find a lot of people like him."
But Beca can hear the words that echo after her words.
"You could find someone better than him."
It's in the way she touches her.
Mostly Chloe treats her like she's one of her books, delicate pages lined with dark ink; she skims the surface of Beca's skin, never fully leaving an imprint, for fear of smudging the words. And Beca realizes that her hands shake as she makes contact with her skin, her hair, the outlines of her bones. But when Beca purposefully clasps her hand over Chloe's, it's a reassurance that has the older girl grasping her back tightly.
The contrast tells Beca the alternate emotions that she must be feeling.
It's in the way her heart beats.
When they fall asleep on the couch, Beca can hear the stable thumping, a steadfast constant that is a bass line to the rushing music of Chloe's breathy exhales. And it makes Beca feel a security she's never understood before, a feeling of home.
But like her touch, it varies.
Beca nearly kisses her, similarly to how she nearly kissed Jesse that first time (but different emotions running through her veins). She swears she can hear Chloe's frantic heartbeat with her frozen expression; a skipping acceleration that threatens to burst into reality.
And finally, it's in the way she looks at her.
Maybe Beca can't describe exactly how Chloe looks at her (words that come to mind include lingering, burning, attentively, and perhaps foremost, comfortably), but she can see it finally. The devotion, the admiration, the quiet rapture.
And it's so obvious that Beca is aghast she's missed all the signals before.
Finally, on the fourth day, Beca regains the (fairly) regular use of her vocal chords.
"Thank you," the brunette nods.
Chloe teases her, "I nursed you back to health, I expect something in return."
So Beca kisses her, soft and patient.
She rests her forehead against Beca's.
"That was more than ample compensation." It might be Beca's imagination, but she sounds a bit breathless.
"I like you," Beca acknowledges at last, the words sounding familiar instead of foreign as she'd always envisioned. "A lot."
"Really?"
And all this time that Beca had been waiting for her to say it first, Chloe had been waiting for the exact same from her. But she thinks back to the activities fair, the shower, the auditions and maybe it's been in her words all along too.
"Really," Beca replies.
And maybe all she ever had to do was listen.
A/N: Thanks for reading! See you tomorrow for Day 2: Hair.
A few notes:
1. Dr. Spachemin might be an alias of Dr. Spaceman from 30 Rock. Maybe.
2. I know the theme is loss, but the loss of voice is still a loss to me!
Cheers.