x any 1st person POV xx change in POV
Any hint of amusement that lingered on Fat Amy's face fell, just as her heart did, upon opening the bathroom door.
"Be..ca?"
There was a pause. Fat Amy rarely did pauses or momentary ponderings or hesitations, she jumped straight and to the point. And yet, she found herself at a loss for words and thoughts, at the sight of her friend curled up inside the glass shower booth. Wet, defeated, lost, and so small. And Beca Mitchell did not do small. She may be small in height but she is the Beca. Effin'. Mitchell. The BIG BM and she adds an extra few inches to her tiny physique for being, just that. So, she does not do small or weak or…this. And that is why, Fat Amy could not—for the love of god—find the words right now. She needed to say something, I mean, it was her friend—best friend might she add—but, seeing her badass Shawshank like this, she had no words.
Thankfully though, her body seemed to know what it was doing when it barged into the shower booth and tugged the broken brunette into a tight embrace to let her know that Fat Amy was here. And no matter what it was, she was going to find a way to make it better. She may be unreliable at times but, she makes it up for the times that she's the first one ready to knock things out when things, actually do count.
"It's okay, it's alright, it's going to be fine. We're going to find a way. You're the big BM. And I'm the big Fat Amy. We saved our pitches and blew up a yacht together. We can do anything." She cooed unto the side of her friend's temple she caressing ever so gently. The slight leaning in of the brunette was not in the slightest a comfort but, she was going to take whatever she could get. And if that happened to be a weak sighing into her embrace, she was okay with that. At least for now.
And she didn't mind that her clothes were getting soaked by the water left over in the shower booth, which, the brunette seemed to have managed to turn off after getting herself drenched. What she did mind though, was the warm soaking on her shoulder—where the tiny DJ burrowed her head in. She couldn't help holding back her own pool of tears from shedding as she held onto her friend, the shivering and trembling of the DJ threatening to let them fall any moment. But, she swallowed it in. She had to know what was going on to have pushed the fragile figure in her arms to such a state.
Everything seemed to go along immaculately. Beca was going to make a name of herself, making her own music not just producing other people's things; the Bellas had their swan song; she had gotten rich beyond compare; Lily, no Ester, could speak at a normal volume; Flo had her juice truck franchise going on; Aubrey was letting herself free and may be becoming a doula; Cynthia Rose was joining the army; Stacey had her, their Bella to look after; Legacy was graduating; Jessica & Ashley were doing their thing; and Chloe was, going to Vet School.
And of course. Why didn't it hit her sooner? Of course, it had to be.
Chloe.
It could only be something about her that would and could, push the brunette over to this mess. There was no other real explanation other than that. The only person who could have this much of an emotional impact on Beca was the redhead. Knowingly or unknowingly, she was usually the cause of all and any kind of emotional whirlpool in her best friend—ranging from goofy blissfulness to a broken wreck. And it was always a source of amusement amongst the other Bellas to watch the ever so fickle swirl of emotions of the brunette when she was around or talking about the redhead. But to find her in the state she is now? It was far from it.
But what she couldn't quite grasp is what would have caused this reaction from her loving friend? And of all moments, why now? What happened that was so different from her other encounters with the redhead that caused her to become this vulnerable? There were many more questions that came to her mind but, all in due time. Right now, the biggest problem was how to deal with this Beca, now.
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After what seemed like hours sitting in the shower booth, Fat Amy decided it was time to get up and out as soon as she felt the brunette in her arms shivering. She looked down and saw how ghostly pale—even more so, than her normal hue—her skin had become and how her lips were purple. She mentally smacked herself to not having the sense to get the DJ out of her wet clothes immediately as soon as she saw her in the fugue state on the bathroom floor. But, she had been so wrapped up in trying to comfort her without disturbing her that she too, was not in a clear mental state. Although on afterthought, she should have at least covered the girl in a towel first.
Had Chloe been here, the first thing she would have done was to get the brunette out of her wet clothes into dry ones…But had Chloe been here, there may been a whole new set of other problems that came with all things Bhloe. However, seeing that this whole in-trance Beca seems to have been triggered by said redhead, maybe it was a good thing that Fat Amy lost the game and was sent to fetch Beca. Who knows what would have transpired? Yeah so, definitely a good thing Fat Amy found her.
"Come on now short stack, let's get you out of this." After pulling out a much calmer, but much colder Beca out of the shower booth, Fat Amy threw a large towel over her and led her to the bed to sit down. She was trying to get her tiny friend to rid of her wet clothes for a change of dry ones but, all she got was another sight of defeated eyes. Steely blue eyes a tinge on the darker side than she was accustomed to. No playful smirk resting on her lips. Enough to force her heart towards the floor again. This, was definitely not her defiant short stack. And she had to get her back. Even if it was with a bit force.
x
She inhaled another needed breath before going about it again. "Beca, we need to get you out of this or I'm going to smack your tiny little ass. And it's not going to in the good way." None of what she said seemed to be registering to the brunette. She tried shaking her to no avail and repeating her words but, still got no response.
Brute force it is then. Was the thought Fat Amy had when her hand was already hanging over her head, ready to fall to its target: Beca Mitchell's fine little ass.
"Ow! ...Fat Amy? What the hell? Wha..? Huh? What are you doing here?" Ahh. And there she is. She actually enjoyed and was grateful for the full on BM scowl this time. "About time Shawshank," she said to the brunette who was still recovering from the sudden act of violence. But, it didn't take long for her to grasp what was going on and that, was when her eyes started darting around the room to avoid looking into the one's that were fixed on her. It didn't help that the blonde—predicting such a response—was holding her down. The DJ realized that she would have to face her ass-smacker/friend but she wasn't going to give in that easy. She was not that kind of gal. So the brunette tried with all she had in her to avert the situation. And boy, did she try—a solid 30 minutes.
But, alas. A physical encounter between Fat Amy and Beca Mitchell will always end with the Aussie claiming the win. And why would this time be any different?
"…why are you here Amy?" was the voice of defeat that crept out. "You needed me," was her simple answer. And that was enough for the brunette to relax into the blonde's embrace and let things go.
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Getting dried up seemed to do what the water should've have done—bring her to her senses. "Where are the girls?" was the first things she asked. To which Amy had another simple answer, "Partying their asses off." She knew that wasn't really what the smaller girl wanted to know but didn't want to force her hand so she went along. "Why are you here then?" she tried again. "We needed the guest of honor, obviously. But we could stay here if you want. I'm sure Chloe and the girls won't mind."
A twitch. That was all Fat Amy needed to confirm what she already knew but, it was always good to double check things. So, it was everything to do with the redhead, Fat Amy acknowledged internally. "…yeah, she wouldn't." The whispered response wasn't the blushing or denying she was expecting but, it was something. Beca was starting to crawl back into her shell and she needed to know why.
Today was awesome to say the least. Again, to recap: Beca crushed it, the Bellas got to join, she was rich, they all had their future set, she was rich—she felt it should be mentioned twice—and they were in France, it was awesome. Chloe was finally ready for the next step in her life. Beca should be being all supportive and whatnot. They saved the girls. And not to be redundant or anything but, literally blew up a yacht and stuff. Beca saved her Chloe. And they didn't even need Zeke or Chicago's...It hit her then.
"…Chicago." Another flinch. And, her answer to all this. The redhead did seem cozy next to the hunky blue-eyed soldier before their own Bellas get together. It didn't seem to be much but maybe there was something she didn't know. And she isn't known for her subtlety. "What is it? Out with it now Beca." Again, with the averting eyes. When will she learn? "Do you want another beating? I can give you two more if you'd like that."
"Jesus, Amy." Pause. "I'm going to give you 3 seconds." Because she needs to know, now.
"One." She could practically hear Beca's eyes darting around to establish an escape route and, failing. "Two." Now she could see Beca trying to calculate the probability of her leaving the room without being pummeled to the ground. "Three." Presently, she could feel the white flag coming.
"Okay…" with that, the brunette's head was rested on her shoulders.
"…him…" was all she could make out from the mumbling vibration. "What?" Another pause. Another deep breath. Again, the warm wetness on her shoulders. Then another deep breath.
"…I was going to tell her." And again, the brokenness. "I was going to tell her how I felt, how I feel…all the things, stuff, and whatever." Deep breath."I looked for her." More warmth on her shoulders. "And I did. I did find her…" Pause.
"She…she kissed him."