A/N: I do not own Pitch Perfect or any of its characters

You know what, Chloe? I'm fucked. I'm so completely and utterly fucked.

And I feel like it's your fault.

But it isn't.

It's mine.

And I know that.

I take full responsibility.

I shouldn't have fallen in love with you. You weren't mine to fall in love with. You were never mine to fall in love with. You just turned up in my shower one day and I broke. And, okay, that was weird. It's not every day you get a sexy redhead barging into your shower, demanding you sing for them. That never happens. So you can't really blame me for thinking that it meant something when it didn't.

But still, I shouldn't have fallen in love with you.

And that's my fault.

It's not yours.

So I'm sorry that I get mad sometimes.

I get mad at the way you rest your head on my shoulder. Or the way you link your arm with mine. Or the way you sweep the hair from my face. And the way you get pretend jealous when I talk about girls. And the way you get affectionate when you're drunk.

Because dammit girl, it's fucking killing me.

But that isn't your fault.

Even though I think you know.

You must know.

I'm pretty sure everyone knows.

But it's best not to talk about it.

Just joke about it. Make jokes about us being a couple. Make those jokes in front of your boyfriend. Who you love. Who you're going to marry.

I never told you, one time after making those jokes, he pulled me to one side. He said I shouldn't feel awkward about making those jokes. Because he was confident that, at the end of the day, it was him you'd be going back to. And he was right. Of course he was right.

We'll just make jokes.

But these jokes are hurting me. This whole thing is hurting me. Because what I really want to do is kiss you. I want to push you against a wall and kiss you. Kiss you until we break apart, gasping for air. And then kiss you again. And when the kissing is done I want to fuck you. And I know that sounds crude. I know it isn't romantic.

But fuck it.

It's the truth.

And after we've fucked I want to hold you. I want to make breakfast for you in the morning. I want to give you my jacket when you're cold. I want you to sit on my lap, even when there are empty chairs to sit in. I want to walk down the street hand-in-hand. Not as friends but as a couple. I want to introduce you as my girlfriend. Not my best friend. Even though you'd be both.

But that won't ever happen.

And that isn't your fault.

You can't help being straight.

Just like I can't help being gay.

So let's just carry on making jokes. It's all one big fucking joke. I'll never say the thing I think we both know. I'll never ever tell you. I'll never say the three words that sit in my mouth, waiting to be spilled. I won't risk our friendship Chloe. No matter how much it hurts.

Because I'd rather be miserable with you.

Than miserable without you.

"Becs, what are you writing?" Chloe said, pulling Beca's attention away from her notebook. Beca looked down for a few seconds.

"Nothing," Beca replied, scrunching up the paper with a smile. "Just a plan for this essay I have to do. But it sucks."

"Want me to take a look?" She said, still hovering in the doorway.

"No thanks," Beca said, tossing the balled up paper into the bin.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah." Beca pulled on her shoes and jacket.

"Tom is meeting us there, that cool?"

"Of course," Beca replied, still smiling. "As long as he doesn't mind being a third wheel." Chloe laughed.

"He'll get used to it," she said, linking their arms together.

Beca returned to her dorm that night, filled with the buzz of alcohol.

Tonight was bad for Beca.

She paced her room, thankful for the absence of Kimmy Jin. Ever since she'd decided to write her feelings, the pain in her chest hadn't stopped. It was as if writing it down meant she had finally accepted what she was feeling.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to hit something. Not liking the way her thoughts were spiralling, she left her room and went for a walk.

It was cold but Beca didn't feel it. She walked quickly, without direction.

She wished there was someone to talk to about this. But, of course, Chloe was the only one.

She could maybe talk to Fat Amy or Stacie or even Jesse, but they'd all say the same thing.

Tell her.

Tell her.

That conversation would only end in one way and would probably kill their friendship. Beca wasn't about to risk that.

So she carried on walking.

Until she happened upon a bridge. Calm, icy water ran beneath it. The moon perfectly reflected in the glass-like surface. She leaned against the cold stone of the bridge, her arms folded against it. All she wanted at that moment was to jump and get lost in the water below.

She wasn't sure how long she was standing there before she felt a hand rest against the small of her back.

"What are you doing out here?" Chloe said. Beca shrugged. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I'm good. Thanks," Beca said, noticing that her teeth had started chatter slightly.

"It's cold out here," Chloe said, tugging at her arm. Beca didn't move. Even if the opportunity to jump had come and gone.

"How did you find me?" Beca asked.

"You walked past my window, and then didn't answer your phone," she said. "Is everything okay?"

"Ah ha," Beca said, her eyes still fixed on the water. "I just felt like a walk."

"Come on Becs, what's going on?" Chloe asked, trying to look at her.

"You know what's going on, Chlo'," Beca said, not letting her see the tears that were frozen to her face. They didn't speak for a long time.

"I'm sorry Beca," she said eventually. "But... Tom... You know?"

"I know. It's okay," Beca said, wiping her eyes. "Let's just carry on pretending. Please."

"If that's what you want," Chloe said.

"It's for the best. Come on, I'll walk you home," Beca said, holding out her arm for Chloe to take. The redhead hesitated for a second before taking it.

"Are we going to be okay?" Chloe asked when they reached her dorm.

"Of course we are," Beca said.

"But-"

"Chloe, forget about that, okay? I was... It was a joke," Beca said.

"A joke?" Chloe said, not believing her for a second.

"Sure," Beca said, knowing Chloe wouldn't believe her, but hoping she would accept it anyway. "It was just a joke."

"Okay," Chloe said, eventually. "Night Beca."

"Goodnight," Beca replied. The door closed and Beca walked off. "I love you."