The lull of newspaper rustling flitted through the kitchen as Beca flipped through the Sunday paper casually. Her bare foot swayed, occasionally grazing the stucco wall of the kitchen counter. The brunette had found herself so often staying over at Chloe's, reveling in long nights of talking and holding each other tightly in one another's arms. Having borrowed one of the redheads loose shirts, Beca fussed with the sleeves of the shirt, which always seemed to sag down her inexplicably small frame. A buzzing of the coffeemaker disrupted the blissful peace, to which Beca snapped her head up at.

"You know how I like my coffee?" The DJ questioned with a raised brow, watching Chloe whir around the kitchen gathering the necessary things to make Beca's cup of coffee into an unbeatable perfection.

"Mhm." The redhead affirmed as she added a small stream of milk and then a pinch of cinnamon. For a girl who came off to the world so bitter, Beca loved her sweet things. Perhaps the main reason why she was so attracted to Chloe; it was like she was a little bee, flying around harmlessly in life, until an irresistible flower's scent filtered into her nose.

"That's surprising." The still sleep drowsy brunette murmured back.

"I've got a good memory." Chloe said with a shrug. Stirring her concoction with a spoon, she placed the mug in front of Beca with a charming smirk. Beca reached forward and wrapped her hand around the white porcelain, immediately perking up with the warmth emitted through the mug onto her skin.

"Thanks, babe." Beca said hastily, testing the waters to see how Chloe reacted to pet names. It clearly took the redhead by surprise, since she stopped in her tracks in the kitchen, turning to Beca.

"You called me babe." Chloe echoed, putting down her red mug, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips. It was only a brief moment before the bubbly woman was humbly curving around the counter, pecking a kiss on Beca's cheek. Beca only gave a warm smile, glad that the action was received well.


Over the next few months, they had fallen irrevocably in love with one another. It was a relationship that was the one that warmed you to your core to watch blossom, the one that everyone strived to be similar to. It was not a surprise to see the pairs' arms linked together as they walked, or sitting next to one another at a social event, sneaking modest kisses when they got a moment of no attention.

Chloe had welcomed Beca into her dorm with no doubts or regrets. The little lady added a certain spark to her place, whether it was simple music drifting throughout the rooms, or just the warming sight of her passed out on the couch after so diligently working on a mix, her headphones in a disarrayed mess around her neck. Everything was looking up from there.


That's why it shattered Chloe to a thousand unrepairable pieces when she received a call from the hospital that her girlfriend had been in a fatal car accident. There was such a deafening white noise in her ears that the details to this day are unknown to her, and she refuses to hear them from anyone. She doesn't want to know that her Beca suffered, whether it was quick and painless, or drawled out and full of pain.

The thoughts crossed her mind every minute of every day of every week since she received that call, the thoughts of joining Beca in the famed after life. Hell, she had even gotten close a few times, but there always seemed to be some sign telling her that it was not her time; Aubrey calling her, a bottle of pills refusing her desperate pleas to open. Chloe could never bring herself to do it.

Her days seemed to blur together now. The same sympathies from people she had only spoken to once or twice, who always explained that Beca left an impact on her life. She could never hear their words to the fullest. Beca was always the one who left such a mark on her life, and now the woman was only another verse in the grievous song that was Chloe's life.

Her coffeemaker took her out of her own head with its arrogant buzzing. Chloe's hand reared up to unplug the thing, but it calmed immediately. She had no energy for such frivolous bursts of anger anymore. Almost a routine etched into her head now, Chloe reached on her toes to pull out two mugs, one red, one white, poured coffee into the both of them, adding a dash of milk to both, a dash of cinnamon to the white. Turning slowly on her heel, she placed the other mug on the counter, watching the steam waft up as she held her own mug. In the end she knew nobody would be there to pick it up and thank her, and in the end she knew it would always go cold.