Not a happy ending to this one, guys. TW for major character death and drunk driving.
Beca opens her eyes to a soft but persistent tapping on her bedroom door.
She blinks several times, attempting to alleviate the gritty feeling. She hadn't been sleeping, just dozing on the edge of consciousness.
It's almost noon. It must be, or no one would be bothering her.
She doesn't want to get up. The invisible weight on her chest pins her to the mattress.
The knocking hasn't stopped.
She vaguely wonders if it's Amy, seeking permission into the room they share, or if it's Emily this time, or maybe Stacie; they've all been taking it in turns.
Finally, the knocking stops.
Beca sighs in relief and lets her eyes slide closed again, only for the door to squeak open and light footsteps to sound on the stairs. Reluctantly, Beca forces her eyes open to see Aubrey peeking hesitantly over the railing.
"Beca?" she says softly.
Beca grunts.
Aubrey seems to gather herself, maybe letting her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. After a second, she walks hesitantly into the room, avoiding the piles of clothing, CDs, and broken mixing equipment Beca had shoved off her desk and to the floor.
"We gotta go. It's time."
"Fuck off," Beca groans, her voice full of gravel.
Aubrey flinches. "Beca…"
Beca swears again and rolls over, putting her back to Aubrey. She's hollow inside, though her gut still manages to twist with nausea.
"You don't have to go," Aubrey murmurs. "But I think… I think you'd really regret –"
Beca sighs loudly, squeezing her eyes closed. "I don't want to."
"I know. I don't want to go, either."
Beca can't answer. She only curls into a tighter ball, tugging the sheets further up and over her face.
"Seriously?" Aubrey snorts mirthlessly. "Damn it, Beca, do you think this is easy for me? Do you think you're the only one here who's gonna miss –"
Aubrey cuts herself off with a strangled choking noise, and Beca wonders if she's about to be sick. It wouldn't be the first time this week.
After a moment, though, she hears Aubrey taking several deep breaths. Quiet footsteps shuffle forward, and Beca realizes that Aubrey's moving closer; she senses Aubrey's hand reaching out to her, trying to touch her.
"Can I –"
"Don't!" Beca spits, pulling away. "I can get up."
Aubrey recoils, withdrawing her outstretched hand as if Beca had stung her. "Okay! I'll… wait. Um, downstairs."
Beca grunts her acknowledgment, not caring what Aubrey does, as long as she gets away from her.
With several backward glances, as if she doesn't trust Beca to get up and get dressed, Aubrey retreats down the stairs. She hesitates at the bottom and looks back. "You – you should shower first."
"I –"
Aubrey leaves before Beca can answer. She leaves the door open behind her, probably knowing that if she closes it, Beca's not likely to come down.
Beca stares at the ceiling, counting the sharp throbs in her chest that appear in time with her heartbeat.
After several minutes, she hauls herself upright, rubbing her burning eyes.
The first time Chloe ever touched her was at Hood Night.
She'd gone up to Beca and grabbed her hands and pulled her so close that Beca thought she was going to be kissed. She wasn't kissed, though – it had just been a friendly, platonic handhold and some confusing close talking.
It was nothing.
It was the start of everything.
Beca just didn't know it until later.
Twenty-five minutes later, Beca stumbles downstairs from the second-floor landing, every step taking much more effort than it should. The shower had helped, but not much. She hears the soft murmur of the Bellas downstairs waiting for her, and she grimaces. When she's about halfway down the stairs and can see the others waiting for her in the kitchen, a hush falls over the house.
Nine pairs of eyes swivel in her direction. It hits her anew that her favorite ones are missing. Will always be missing.
Beca drags a shuddering breath into her lungs, looking away from the others to instead stare downward until she reaches the main floor. Chloe had never worn black, and now everyone in the house is in some form of black dress. It makes sense, Beca thinks dully. Chloe had been the light in the house, and now that she's gone, she's left them in darkness.
"Hey, Beca, how's it going?" Cynthia Rose asks softly when Beca joins their group.
Beca looks around, taking in Stacie's box of Kleenex, Emily's bloodshot eyes, and Jessica's already-smeared mascara. She's lost, uncertain where she should stand or who she should stand by and settles for staying in place. She hates the way everyone is looking at her, as if waiting for her to break down at any second. She swallows hard, fending off the waves of sympathy she feels crashing over her.
Beca shrugs in response to Cynthia Rose's question. "I'm here," she says, her voice sounding strangely clogged to her own hears, as if she has a bad head cold.
Amy stares at her with wide eyes, then looks away when Beca glances at her. Flo clears her throat and shifts her weight. Ashley cries silently while Stacie hands her tissues and pats her back.
Beca, bizarrely, wants to laugh; the Bellas are lost, and she's not about to lead them anywhere.
Aubrey seems to realize the same thing. "Okay, then," she says brusquely, her loud voice driving a spike into Beca's forehead. "Let's go."
Chloe's hips should be made illegal.
At least, that's what Beca thought as Chloe rolled them into her in time with the pounding bass. It was crowded at the Treble house, and maybe they didn't exactly need to dance that closely, but Beca was more than a little tipsy and Chloe was a force of nature.
"Happy senior year!" Chloe yelled into her ear, her lips accidentally brushing Beca's cheek as they danced.
"Thanks!" Beca said back. "You too! You're gonna graduate, right?"
Chloe replied right as a huge cheer went up around them; Stacie had leapt onto a table to dance, and the subsequent audience approval drowned out Chloe's words. Beca thought she might have said, "Yeah, because you are," but she wasn't sure.
"What?" she asked, leaning in closer, Chloe's body pressed fully against hers.
"I said yeah, it's time!"
"Okay!" Beca cried back, only for the volume of the music to rise still further, making conversation impossible. Instead, she focused on the feel of Chloe's hips rotating and swiveling under her hands and the feel of Chloe's quick breaths on her neck.
In the car, Beca has to sit in the passenger's seat because she feels so sick.
She also really, really doesn't want to sit in the crowded backseat, where someone would inevitably be pressed into her side.
She's riding with Aubrey, along with Emily, Stacie, and Amy in the backseat. It's silent; as soon as Aubrey had started the car, "I Saw the Sign" had come on the radio and Aubrey had just about ripped out the stereo in order to get the music to stop.
Beca stares out the window without seeing. It's a beautiful spring day: warm, sunny, with pristine blue skies. It annoys Beca that it's so nice outside.
The color of the sky will never match Chloe's eyes.
White hot panic rips through Beca's stomach; memories fade, and photos never quite capture enough… one day, she might wake up having forgotten that exact shade of blue. Or the sound of Chloe's singing voice. With another sharp blow to the stomach, Beca frantically tries to remember the precise sound of "Titanium" reverberating off the shower walls. Had she taken the upper octave or had Chloe? Had they switched partway through?
A lump or something forms in Beca's throat, and it won't disappear no matter how hard she swallows.
I should have recorded her singing, Beca thinks. Just her singing. I should have taken more pictures. I should have told her the truth. I should have said yes. I should have…
Beca blinks rapidly, shoving back the sting in her eyes. She purses her lips and clenches her jaw and stares hard at the sky, refusing to make a single sound, though it threatens to burst out of her in a howl of anguish.
She feels Aubrey's eyes on her, and purposely shifts away, hunching in on herself.
In the backseat, Emily and Amy hold hands while Emily sniffles loudly.
At the sound of Emily's crying, Beca has to ball her hands into fists and bite back her annoyance. The next instant, though, she exhales in a puff and looks down; Emily has every right to be sad. She hadn't known Chloe long, but she'd still known Chloe. Emily is allowed to be sad, too. They all are.
Beca's mouth twists, her lips turning down harshly.
"It's a nice day for it," Amy manages, looking out the window.
"Yeah, it… yeah," Stacie sighs.
Emily sniffles again.
Beca barely hears them. It should be raining, and they all know it.
Beca was drunk.
It was entirely Chloe's fault, too. Hers and Stacie's; they both knew exactly what tequila did to Beca, and, naturally, decided to buy her shot after shot of the stuff for her birthday. She'd lost count after the fourth one. She'd lost most of her memories after the fourth one, actually.
She wasn't completely sure how she'd ended up in Chloe's bed.
She vaguely recalled stumbling up the stairs, maybe bouncing off a wall or a door frame before entering Chloe's room. She remembered an amused "You're lucky it's your birthday," and she thought she might have borrowed some pajamas from Chloe, but she didn't remember ever making the decision to actually climb into the bed until she was lying there in the dark with Chloe next to her.
It wasn't the first time they'd done this after a party. She tried not to think about why she always went with Chloe instead of Jesse.
"Can I be the big spoon?" Chloe's voice sounded from the darkness, only slightly slurred.
"You're always the big spoon," Beca groaned, purposely overdramatic, because she knew it would make Chloe smile.
"Nuh uh," Chloe laughed. "Last time you were."
"Mmpf."
The bed dipped as Chloe shifted, her warm weight pressing into Beca's side. "Come on, Bec," she whispered, her lips tickling Beca's ear and making a shiver run down her spine. "You know you like being the little spoon, and especially on your birthday."
Beca fought the smile trying to break over her face. "Whatever."
"I won't tell anyone."
Beca lost the battle; smiling into the darkness, she rolled to her side, her back to Chloe as she scooted to the center of the bed.
With a happy hum, Chloe moved in close behind her. As always, Beca's stomach fluttered slightly when Chloe tucked her knees and hips flush with hers, wrapping her arm around Beca's waist. Chloe exhaled in contentment, the soft puff of her breath stirring the fine hairs on the back of Beca's neck.
"Feels nice," Beca breathed, letting her eyes slide closed.
"Told you so," Chloe murmured, her fingers making absent swirls on Beca's stomach, over her shirt. It tickled a little, but Beca didn't mind. She tried leaning back further into Chloe, only to find her unusually stiff.
Beca frowned and cracked open an eye. "What's up, dude?"
"Hm?"
"You're… I don't know. Tense."
The fingers on Beca's stomach stopped moving. The air between them went still; Beca thought Chloe might have stopped breathing.
She started to twist around. "Ch–"
"Bec…" Chloe began softly, cutting Beca off and stopping her from rolling over. "Do you wonder… I mean, if, you know… we…"
Beca froze, suddenly uneasy.
"I mean, do you ever wonder about…" Chloe trailed off, her voice tapering into the quiet around them.
Beca waited, the only sound the pounding of her heart in her ears.
After a long pause, Chloe sighed and seemed to sag into the bed. "Never mind."
"Are… um, okay," Beca agreed slowly. It was just easier.
"Night, Bec."
She'd never heard Chloe sound so disappointed.
"Good night, Chlo."
Aubrey's car rolls to a stop in the parking lot of the funeral home. Beca glares at the building, dread coating her insides like oil. She swallows hard and drops her gaze down to her lap. She doesn't want to be here.
The interior of the car is silent, the air around them weighted and thick. Beca isn't paying close enough attention to know whether the silence is awkward or not; she doesn't care if it is. It doesn't matter.
Beca watches the cars on the road go by, each of their occupants blissfully unaware of the gaping, Chloe-shaped black hole left in the world. She wishes she could be them. She wishes she could be someone, anyone else.
"I guess we should…" Amy suggests after a moment.
"Yeah," Aubrey sighs.
Beca doesn't want to get out of the car. She wants to climb behind the wheel and drive far, far away.
But no. When the others open the car doors, Beca does, too. She looks around the lot, noting that there are only a few other cars; one belonging to Chloe's parents, Jessica's minivan full of the rest of the Bellas, and Jesse's familiar gray car. He's sitting behind the wheel, clearly having been waiting for them.
Her stomach twists violently.
As soon as they make eye contact, he climbs out of the car and moves toward her and the others. Aubrey inhales sharply; Beca glances over to see her eyes narrowed and focused on Jesse. The other Bellas watch him, but don't say anything.
Jesse moves closer, And Beca sees he's holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a black suit and tie. "Hi, you guys, I'm really sorry for your –"
"What are you doing here?" Beca cuts him off sharply.
He stops short, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. "I – I thought I'd come and support –"
"No, this time is for her family," Beca says, staring at a point over his left shoulder. "And us."
"Beca –" Stacie begins, reaching out as if to touch Beca's shoulder.
Beca jerks away. "No, he's not supposed to –"
"I thought I'd be here for you," Jesse says softly, eyes wide. "I thought I might – I thought I could help," he shrugs uncomfortably.
"I don't want you here, okay? Wait in line like everyone else. You didn't even like –" Beca cuts herself off with a gulp, glancing up to the sky to ease the burn in her eyes.
Jesse stares at her, stunned. Cynthia Rose mutters something from within the group of Bellas, but Beca doesn't catch it. Aubrey shifts beside her but doesn't say anything.
Jesse tries again and takes another step forward, reaching for her. "Beca, come on, don't you want –"
"Stop it!" she shouts, pulling away before he can touch her. "I didn't ask you to be here! You always do this! You always show up when you're not wanted!"
She whirls, ignoring the stricken expression on his face as she forces herself toward the funeral home, putting one foot in front of the other. She knows she hurt him, but it's only a minute fraction of what she feels.
Beca still didn't like movies, but she loved Bella Movie Night.
She liked being with the others. Liked the popcorn Amy always made. Liked the way Stacie tended to guess the twist about ten minutes into almost every move they watched. Liked the way Cynthia Rose would crack jokes during serious points in the movies to make everyone laugh. Mostly, Beca loved the way Chloe would cuddle up close to her, often under a blanket, where no one else could see the way Chloe's fingers toyed with hers.
One night shortly after Chloe's half-formed question in the dark, Beca paid even less attention to the movie than usual. She found herself more focused on the feeling of Chloe's head resting in her lap and Chloe's fingers tapping against her knee.
It was second nature to brush her fingers through Chloe's hair. It was soft and smooth, and by the way it made the corner of Chloe's lips turn upward, Beca could see Chloe liked it.
It was easy.
Yes, Beca wanted to whisper to her. She wondered. She wondered all the time.
But she was still with Jesse. And wondering was scary. Wondering changed everything.
The inside of the funeral home is stifling. It's cluttered with a random assortment of old-looking furniture, conveniently placed Kleenex boxes, and pin-up boards covered with pictures of Chloe. Almost as soon as they're inside, Beca's eyes land on a picture of Chloe as a toddler sitting at the bottom of a slide. She blinks and has to look away, her lips tightening.
"Hello, ladies, I'm afraid you might be a tad early," a male voice calls.
Beca looks up to see a larger, tall man with a small head, glasses, and no hair walking toward them from across the room. He's wearing a rather horrible brown suit, and she knows instantly he must be the funeral director.
"Oh, um –" Aubrey starts.
"They're her roommates," another male voice says, and Beca looks past the funeral director to glimpse Chloe's dad. "We asked them to come early, as well."
The funeral director's eyes widen. "Oh! Um, my apologies. Please, come in," he says, gesturing them into the main room with a wide sweep of his arm.
The Bellas shuffle forward as a group, Beca swept up along with them. She hesitates, looking at the floor, at the back of Flo's head, anywhere but at Chloe's parents. She casts her mind around frantically, thinking of anything else – songs she'd heard lately, her own parents, her upcoming move to LA, graduation before that, the retreat Chloe had wanted to go on, Worlds, and shit shit shit now they aren't going to go to Worlds because how can they possibly, and the Bellas are going to be done and over and Chloe would be so heartbroken if she knew, and all Beca can ever think about is Chloe, Chloe, Chloe.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," Lilly murmurs at a normal volume to Chloe's mom.
Beca blinks, but before she can say anything, Amy steps up to Chloe's parents. "She was a great captain."
"And friend," Stacie adds. Beside her, Emily nods as silent tears stream down her cheeks.
Beca can't speak. She can barely even breathe.
"I'm… so, so sorry," Aubrey says, talking to both of Chloe's parents. "I can't even imagine –"
"Yes, you can," Chloe's dad interrupts, voice hoarse. "She's your loss, too."
"I…" Aubrey pauses, eyes wide and chin trembling. Beca's never seen her speechless before; she wants to elbow Chloe and make a joke about it, but then she remembers.
Aubrey's face seems to crumple in on itself at the same time Chloe's dad takes a step forward and pulls her into a hug. Her shoulders, narrow in his embrace, shake and a muffled whimpering sound fills the room.
Beca looks away but makes eye contact with the funeral director; she shifts her gaze beyond him and into a side room, where still more pictures pass in a slideshow on a TV screen. An image of the group at the Nationals Beca's freshman year comes on-screen. Beca wants to shout out with frustration, and maybe something else.
"Um, do you girls want – uh, to see her? To say goodbye?"
Beca's eyes flash to Chloe's mom's. Bile rises in her throat, and she tries to swallow, but her mouth is too dry.
"Oh, she's – we had her cremated," Chloe's mom adds quickly into the silence. "There's – it's just an urn. You want to see?"
It's not just an urn.
"Of course," Ashley answers first.
No. We don't want to see.
Ashley leads the way, followed by Jessica, then Aubrey, who wipes at her eyes.
Beca stands, frozen, until Cynthia Rose mutters in her ear. "Come on, Beca. There's nothing to be scared of."
Beca has to clamp down on her response; she's not scared. Not at all.
She follows the group, careful to keep some distance between herself and everyone else. She wonders if she's about to pass out; her head throbs she can't get nearly enough air. She wishes she could be anywhere else.
"Beca, please. Say something."
"I… what do you want me to say?"
"Anything."
"Chlo, I…"
Beca could only stare in shock. Chloe had rarely looked this upset: her eyebrows drawn together with worry, her lower lip snared between her teeth. She played with her hands, twisting her silver ring around her thumb. Her eyes, full of fear, never left Beca's.
"What are you thinking?" Chloe asked quietly.
"Um…" Beca took a breath, trying to gather herself. "How – how long?"
"Since the pool. 'Just The Way You Are,'" Chloe shrugged with a sad smile.
Beca's stomach dropped; that had been nearly three years ago. She wanted to ask why Chloe hadn't told her sooner. It would have been so much better if she'd known sooner. But then, as Beca watched Chloe twist her ring – around and around and around – she realized Chloe had been telling her this entire time. She just hadn't wanted to hear it.
Beca nodded, shame creeping up her neck.
"I'm really sorry."
Her eyes snapped up to Chloe's. Chloe took a step forward, then continued, "I never meant to – it just happened, and then I couldn't –"
"I like you."
Chloe stopped, gaping at Beca. "What?"
"I – I like you, too," Beca exhaled in a whisper, feeling the truth of it settle into her chest. "Like – that."
Chloe stared at her, expression blank. Just when Beca was about to ask if she was okay, a huge, beaming smile broke out over Chloe's face. She didn't jump with joy, as Beca had been expecting – instead, she almost doubled over, releasing a huge laugh of excitement.
"God, that's – you – do you want to go out?" she asked in a torrent, standing back upright. "On a date? With me?"
Beca's heart plummeted into her stomach. "I – Chlo, I can't."
Chloe blinked and shook her head, but her smile didn't totally fade. "What? Why not? You like me back."
"I do but – it's not that easy."
"What? Why not?" Chloe repeated. Her smile had faded completely by then.
"Well," Beca huffed, lifting a hand to rub at the back of her neck. "I'm still with Jesse."
"But –"
"I kinda like him, too," Beca fired back, immediately regretting the sarcasm.
Chloe flinched and her brow furrowed. "I don't – you two fight all the time," she said slowly, as though trying to control herself. "You told me the other day you weren't sure about moving to LA anymore with –"
"I know!" Beca cut her off loudly, then took a breath. "I know. But it – it's not that easy."
"Yes, it is."
"No, I –" Beca hesitated, blinking rapidly. This wasn't supposed to happen like this. "Look, I just need to think, okay?"
Chloe reached out a tentative hand. "Beca –"
"Please? I just – I need a minute," Beca said, pulling back.
Chloe dropped her hand, eyes falling to the floor between them. "Fine. I'll… I'll go for a jog. And when I get back…"
"I'll be here, I promise," Beca said. She meant it; she needed some space to think.
"Okay," Chloe smiled sadly. She paused, then turned away. As she stood in Beca's door, she looked back one last time before leaving. "I won't hurt you, you know?" she said softly. "I'll never hurt you."
Beca nodded mutely, and the next second, Chloe was gone.
Beca's entire body is wracked with pain; she isn't sure how she's still standing.
She follows the Bellas into the side room, knowing what's waiting for them, hoping that this is all just a nightmare.
(She knows it's not.)
She tries subdividing beats and composing a mash-up to the rhythm of her own footsteps, but she comes up totally blank. She's got nothing.
The Bellas stop at the front of the room, and Stacie's small gasp forces Beca to look up.
Chloe's urn is a shade of blue that had been obviously intended to match her eyes.
She can't comprehend how it can be so small when Chloe was such a big part of her life.
She's going to remember Chloe as this small vase.
She feels trapped, a second away from panicking, her chest as constricted as Chloe is in that tiny urn. Her eyes are killing her but she refuses to cry because if she cries she won't be able to stop and all around her, the Bellas are hugging one another and saying things she can't hear, but Beca stays farther back, unable to go near them, because she doesn't want to be there and she knows that one touch will shatter the control she has.
Beca had known there was something wrong. Chloe had been gone for way too long.
The worry and anticipation had made her sick. She'd thought about getting in her car and searching herself but wanted to stay in case Chloe came home.
Then, nearly three hours after Chloe had stormed off, her phone rang. It was Chloe's mom, crying.
"Beca? It's – Chloe – a drunk driver – she didn't – it was instant."
Only about half the words registered with Beca, but she understood enough.
Somewhere, someone made a horrible noise, a choked scream that sounded like a wounded animal. As soon as Beca realized it was her, it stopped. She'd fallen to her knees. When the Bellas had rushed to her, she couldn't tell them, had only handed the phone off to someone – she didn't know who – for Chloe's mom to repeat herself. The news had torn through the Bellas, bringing tears and gasps and horror, and all through it, Beca had remained on the floor, silent.
She didn't remember the rest of the night.
It wasn't until the next morning, waking from the fog of a sleep aid she didn't recall taking, that she felt the jagged, invisible wound torn into her chest. She would never see Chloe again, never talk to her again, never touch her again.
"Beca, are you okay?"
Beca flinches away from the voice and the extended hand, unable to bear looking at Chloe's mom right now. "Yep," she manages, hearing the strain in her own voice. "I'm fine."
She stares straight ahead at a point above Chloe's urn. She feels Chloe's mom's eyes on her face, but still stares ahead, because if she looks over, everything will fall apart.
"No, you're not. Come here."
And before Beca can do anything, Chloe's mom reaches out and pulls her into a hug, wrapping her arms around Beca's waist and turning her face into her neck.
Beca stiffens, refusing to return the hug at first, but Chloe's mom doesn't let go. It's the first time she's been touched since Chloe died and there's something so familiar about the embrace that Beca finally gives in and raises her arms and places them around Chloe's mom, who only squeezes her more tightly, and then something cracks in her chest and Beca's face twists and her eyes overflow and she's suddenly crying, gasping out desperate sobs and whimpers that tear from her throat and make her entire body shudder.
Chloe's mom holds her tighter, supporting her, as Beca finally crumbles from the inside out.
Her last memory of Chloe's touch is the barest hint of fingertips skimming across her lower back as she'd reached around Beca for the coffee at breakfast that morning.
A different kind of silence fills the car ride home.
Beca sits in the middle of the backseat between Emily and Amy. She knows she needs to talk to Jesse – to tell him she can't go to LA – but that can wait. For now, Emily's head rests on her left shoulder while Amy holds her right hand.
Beca sits, tears still streaming silently down her face, Chloe's singing voice playing in her head and a picture Chloe's mom had given her in her free hand. She stares at the image of herself and Chloe together after their most recent Nationals win, laughing, as Chloe took the selfie with her arm thrown around Beca's shoulder. Beca remembers taking the picture. She looks into Chloe's face, memorizing every detail.
Somehow, it eases the terrible ache inside her, even just for a moment.
She'll always wonder.