There is a lot that goes through Beca's mind on a daily basis. Most of them consist of her worries and her fears, but a good hour is usually spent thinking about someone in particular; someone who used to mean the world to Beca. Someone whose world used to be Beca. It isn't like that anymore.
She's sure she looks a mess, with the way her lips quiver and her hands tremble, but she isn't in the right mind to care. Doesn't want to. It's almost midnight, and she promised herself this year to mourn, and the next to be free. She has less than an hour to canvas her love and sell it to the highest bidder, to pour it out and hope it resembles something beautiful. She's sure it doesn't.
Her body tingles and her mind is buzzed, but through it all she could still remember; that was the hardest part, because she remembers more than she should, but after so long she can't be sure that what she remembers is what is true, or something she's twisted to paint her in a brighter light. She's scared of remembering, but terrified to forget.
She remembers their first night together, the way Chloe had kissed down her neck and down her chest. She remembers sly fingers dragging her favorite pair of underwear down and off, tossing it to the darkest corner of the room. She remembers lips on her flesh in all the right places, hands that roamed to edges of her body she had never let herself look at. She remembers bites along her collarbone, the kind of pain that left her writhing under Chloe's touch, begging for so much more. She remembers the way Chloe looked at her, like her favorite meal. Like her favorite person. She wonders now, if Chloe remembers her the same way, when Beca took over.
Beca also remembered the next morning, when she awoke tangled in sheets and alone. It was the first time Beca had regretted anything, despite it bringing her so much pleasure. She remembers running shaking hands through dirty hair, wiping away tears just as they left her eyes. She remembers wishing Chloe had woken up with her.
Beca tries to forget the next week between them. It was the longest they had gone without speaking. Chloe's mind was made up, that they weren't something she wanted to pursue. Beca remembered Chloe once telling her to get a grip and try new things, like the suspicious looking ice cream sold on the streets. Beca remembered trying to figure out why they weren't something Chloe was willing to try too.
She remembers shouting. Angry moisture on Chloe's face as her own flushed red. Why couldn't you love me? Why couldn't we try? Why why why. Chloe had never given her a straight answer, but her hands were on Beca's shoulders and her eyes held sadness that almost matched Beca's, and she let herself curl into a ball as Chloe talks her down, whispering nothings into her ear. She loves Beca, with all her heart, but not as much as Beca her. When the sun finally came up, they had woken up together, and there was nothing Beca could do but smile.
Beca remembers it was the last argument they had—which hadn't been healthy. There are bottled feelings and pent up rage that could only be aired out with a shouting match, but the next time Beca came close to raising her voice, Chloe had looked at her with desperation, and a small voice. Can we not fight? Not anymore? Please?
Did Beca ever really have a chance?
Beca remembers Chloe's going-away party, with all their friends and all their shenanigans. She remembers the lapdance Chloe gave her before leaving, how it had clenched the muscles in Beca's jaw, among other places. It seems impossible that Chloe had forgotten what she could do to Beca, but it seemed she had. When Beca hugs her goodbye and safe flight, she presses her lips against Chloe's cheek, one last time. They were only a four hour flight away, but it feels as if it were the last time Beca would see Chloe in a while.
Beca remembers saying they'd meet again, and to enjoy her new home, but she doesn't remember saying goodbye. Chloe has been clear, all their friendship, she doesn't want a goodbye from Beca. Not then, not now. Beca's hear swells each time she remembers it, as if she were special. As if she were something. It seems ridiculous now.
Now, Beca sits alone with her back pushed upright against the wall. Her throat is dry and her chest heaves. Her mouth tastes foul and her head spins, but she has never been more sure of something now than ever, and it's that she's still in love with Chloe. She still loves Chloe.
Beca has probably forgotten about all the shit Chloe put her through—lies, rejections, lies. She's probably let go of a list of terrible and unforgivable things Chloe has put her through, but she remembers Chloe smiling at her. Touching her. It's not something she wants to forget.
She's sure Chloe isn't everything Beca remembers. Not as perfect as she exists as in her memory, but it's easy to dream and it's easy to love when Beca never sees her anymore. It's easier to love when there's nothing to hate. Chloe is a few thousand miles away, with friends falling in love with the same laugh Beca loves, and Beca knows in her bones, in all the strings of her heart and the tugs Chloe pulls at, she was something different. She was something special.
This I wrote in maybe twenty minutes so there are probably mistakes. I just really miss someone rn and she's a million miles away and prolly hates me. Happy new year!