A/N: Thanks so much for your patience and sweet messages guys – things are a lot better now but it was nice hearing you guys say I should look after myself first. I didn't expect JLG to get this drawn out (I'd hoped to finish it in like 2-3 weeks haha), but I suppose life happens, huh?

You hate lying of all kinds, but the type that really gets to you are the blatant ones. The bold-faced, outright statements that have no apparent leeway, like 'I have no idea what you're talking about', 'No, I didn't eat the last cookie', or 'I know you have a crush on me, sorry I can't return the favour'.

This is a quality that has led you to trouble at times. The one that stands out most to you is when all your friends at school were trying cigarettes for the first time and your mom smelt it from your clothing. You'd spent all day trying to think of a convincing story to tell. Yet one look into your eyes and a significantly raised eyebrow from your mother, and the next thing you and all your friends were grounded. No one talked to you for a month after that, and you realised how wrong lying feels in your mouth: it always left you with a tart, bitter taste that reminds you of cigarettes. Which is probably why they always knew you were lying. They could read it from the pained expression on your face.

You used to think this was evidence of your high moral standards – and would proudly proclaim to any poor soul that happened to stumble upon your Twitter feed that you are 'brutally honest #takemeorleaveme'. Over time, however, it has become evident that the real issue is having no idea how to lie; and that when you are forced into telling a lie, things fall apart very quickly. Faced with that, honesty is surely the best policy, if only because you can't handle doing anything else. Recent events have only cemented this idea in your mind: your one shoddy attempt at lying to Beca's face has led you to this situation.

('I was just kidding.' … 'No, I'm not jealous.')

Somehow, though, you had thought having everything out in the open and being honest with Beca would make everything fall into place. If you laid everything out on the table, then it was up to Beca what happened next - if she wanted to be with you then she would be, and if not, well, at least you tried. It hadn't occurred to you what kind of position you would be putting Beca in by revealing your feelings. Granted, to your relief (and if you're honest, surprise), actually talking to Beca about this issue has improved the situation a tiny bit: she doesn't try and pretend nothing happened between the two of you. However, in the grand scheme of things, this means nothing. Beca's single now, but you know you can't just jump right into it immediately or you risk ruining everything you've been carefully building for the last few years.

Even though you want to. You desperately want to.

But inn practice, you know the feelings have to (temporarily? You hope so) go back in the vault, locked away as best you can. Maybe hiding yourself away like this seems cowardly to some, but to you it's all about timing and choosing your battles. It's not a dismissal of the truth, just a lack of admission in the first place, which is not the same. You don't have to worry about how to phrase things to hide how you really feel.

Instead, you just don't say anything at all.

'Why are you looking at me like that?'

You startle, snapping back to the real world with a rude, sudden awakening.

'Oh – nothing, sorry,' you say, quickly dropping your gaze back down to your face.' Just zoning out.'

Lie - or lack of admission - #1. It's blatantly obvious you've just been staring at Beca's face for the last five minutes while she rambles about the mix she's working on at the moment (you're ashamed to say you don't even know what tracks she's using) and thinking about how soft her skin would feel under your fingers. Then realising that's not even a hypothetical – you've felt Beca's face before. You know it's soft. You know how her cheek feels beneath your palm, and what it's like to have your fingers resting over the curve of her face. And then you might lean in and just...

But no, you're definitely not thinking about that. These sorts of thought processes have always been pretty normal for you (of course it's normal to think about touching your friends' faces, don't be silly) but lately it's just been getting more and more ridiculous. It's almost as though this drama with Beca has just opened up a floodgate inside you; while before you could easily have shoved your feelings back into the darkest recesses of your body, now it won't stop rushing out and carrying you away in the tide.

Beca makes a half-smiling, half-grimacing expression, having caught onto your not-lie immediately. 'Jesus, really?' she says with a sigh, sitting back in her chair. 'How did it take me so long to realise you were into me, exactly?'

You clear your throat in what you hope is a casual, definitely-not-ogling-my-friends manner. 'I have no idea what you mean.'

'Really? You were just looking at me like this.' She demonstrates with her fist pressed to the bottom of her chin, fluttering her eyelashes over at you. It's exaggerated, but probably not that far from the truth, so you flush.

'I'm sorry.'

See - even when you're not lying, your face gives you away immediately.

'It's fine, dude,' Beca says, laughing. 'Kinda flattering, actually. At least I know being single hasn't suddenly turned me into some repulsive creature.'

'Definitely not,' you agree, perhaps just a little too enthusiastically. Despite Beca's smile, you worry about lingering on this subject so quickly change it. 'We haven't done this in a while, huh? Just the two of us, hanging out.' Beca slurps up the last of her drink through the straw with an unattractively wet noise, smirking when you roll your eyes. 'Although I'm starting to rethink whether this was a good idea if you're gonna be doing that all day.' Just to annoy you, she does it again, but louder, then sprays you in the face with the remnants of the liquid. You splutter, 'Oh my God! What the hell, Beca?'

She snickers. 'You always act like you're so chill, but man, you're so highly strung sometimes, Chlo. You spend too much time with Aubrey. Lighten up.'

'It's a little ironic you're telling me to lighten up when coming out was meant to be about cheering you up,' you say wryly. 'Still, you seem like you're doing better?'

You mean it to be a statement but uncertainty turns your inflection upwards at the last moment, because although you consider yourself fairly good at reading Beca, the girl's poker face is just too good. It's just as well Cynthia Rose kicked her gambling habit, because Beca could completely give her a run for her money. Beca chews slowly on the tip of her straw for a few moments – you brace yourself for another squirt in the face but none comes - then lifts one shoulder and drops it. 'Is it weird to say, "I have no idea"? I feel like I should be sad, or angry, or heck, even happy. But I don't know what I'm feeling right now.'

'It's not weird,' you reply. 'Everyone deals with these things in different ways. When I broke up with my first boyfriend, my friends and I made voodoo dolls and tried to put a curse on him.'

'Did it work?'

'Nope. Although Skippy, the class guinea pig, peed on him the next day and ruined his shirt so maybe it did have some effect.'

She snorts loud enough to draw the attention of other patrons in the restaurant. You just about hide your pleased grin in your hand, because making Beca laugh is one of your favourite hobbies. 'Wow, remind me not to piss you off. I don't wanna get peed on.'

'I wouldn't curse you,' you promise, 'just the voodoo dolls would be enough.'

'Oh, 'cause anything more would be weird, right?'

'Absolutely.'

You've missed this, the casual back and forth between the two of you. You're sorry that Beca – and you, maybe – had to go through so much just to get it back. But things seem to be on the up and up, and even though you're having to pull back a little bit just to make sure you're not pressuring Beca post-breakup, it's worth it if you can just get this back. Beca seems to be thinking the same thing, because her smile slips a little and she pushes a hand through her hair - that obvious tell that she's nervous about saying something.

'You know…' Beca clears her throat, gaze dropping to the table and tracing her finger in the small puddle of moisture left by her drink. 'You're being really awesome about all this. Considering… everything. I should probably thank you, actually, because you've been pretty good at being there for me since I broke up with Jesse. Kinda means a lot.'

Lie #2: your heart is totally not going crazy right now. But this is a good lie to keep a secret; if you expressed to her just how touched you are by her words, she would probably vault right over the table and out the door. 'You don't have to thank me, Bec,' you say gently, tone oh-so casual. You are the pinnacle of casualness right now.'I mean, what are friends for?'

The look she gives you is amused, and you can't work out why she would respond in such a way until she says, 'Oh my God, you really are so unsubtle.'

'What? Why?!'

'You're being all "what are friends for?"' she mimics your voice, and her impression isn't particularly flattering. It is not that high or squeaky. Usually. 'But I don't see Amy or Stacie or Cynthia Rose doing half the shit you've done for me in the last few weeks.'

'They would, but I get there first,' you insist, even though she's right, and you know exactly what she's referring to. Perhaps constantly fussing over Beca and always being on hand with ice cream and hugs is not the most platonically motivated thing you've ever done. 'And I am the best friend in the world, thank you very much, so I don't know what you're implying.'

'I'm just saying. You don't have to pretend,' she says, and suddenly she sounds a little sad. 'I know damn well you wouldn't do these things if you didn't have feelings for me.'

You aren't entirely sure why such a thing would upset her, but it seems to be so your best course of action is to reassure her. 'I would. Maybe not quite as enthusiastically,' you add, when she seems skeptical, 'but I am your friend, Beca, first and foremost. And that's always gonna be the case. I'll always be there for you.'

Her brow knits slightly – whether it's in further scepticism, or thoughtfulness, you're not sure. 'Really?'

'Of course. It's what I do - ow!' You wince as the toe of her shoe suddenly collides with your shin. 'Beca, why did you just kick me?!'

'Sorry!' Beca looks mortified. 'Shit. That was supposed to be smooth.'

Rubbing your shin, you shake your head at Beca. 'Wow. Can you try and be smooth in a way that doesn't leave bruises on me?'

'What, you don't like it when I kick you?' deadpans Beca. 'Ugh, fine. Here.'

She reaches across the table, seizing your hand with no finesse whatsoever; yet your hand still feels like you dumped it into a tank of hot water. Mostly because, 'You're sweating,' you note, before you can think that one through.

'Jesus Christ!'

She tries to retract her hand but you hold on, linking your fingers together in one well practised motion. You're pretty proud of it. 'You started this,' you tell her, raising your eyebrows. 'You might as well finish it.'

'Chloe, you are seriously the worst,' she complains; but all the same, she doesn't let go.

'Someone's happy,' Stacie says from behind you, pressing against your back so she can reach above your head and retrieve a bowl. This kind of touchy-feeliness par for the course when dealing with Stacie, so you hardly blink an eye. You're both cuddly people in a house full of people who shrink away at the thought of human contact; you need to get your cuddle fix somewhere, and both of you know that's all it is. Although, occasionally Cynthia Rose will stare with raised brows if you happen to be huddled together on the couch, and Beca will make jokes about the two of you getting a room. You see both their faces fall when they think you're not looking. 'Is it anything to do with the little date thing you had with Beca earlier?'

You rip open the popcorn and empty the contents into the bowl Stacie has helpfully provided you. 'Don't let her hear you call it a date, she'll freak out,' you reply in amusement. 'We just went to get food together.'

'But it was a date, right?' You shrug in a non-committal manner, chuckling when Stacie gives you a very exaggerated wink. 'Just what I thought.'

'Stacie, you're seriously the worst. You have to stop trying to match-make people. It never ends well.'

Stacie reaches past you, stealing a piece of popcorn and putting it in her mouth. 'But it's so entertaining,' she whines, in between munching. 'Like my very own live soap opera. Sometimes I want to bang your heads together because you're so dumb sometimes, but then it wouldn't be as fun to watch.'

'What, banging, what?' Amy breezes into the kitchen. She makes a bee-line straight for the popcorn, as both she and Stacie take another handful. 'Chloe, are you and Beca doing the horizontal tango already?'

'Hands off, guys,' you say, picking up the bowl protectively and backing away a few steps. 'At least save a little for the movie. And no, we're not, thanks.'

'That's a shame. When you do, keep it in your room,' Amy replies. 'I don't need to hear you guys moaning about cats and politics or whatever it is you lezzies do.'

You decide not to bother correcting her on your orientation. 'Where is Beca? I haven't seen her since we got home.'

'She's out. She said she was working on ahhh...' You probably wouldn't have even noticed Amy had trailed off at the end there until she started making weird noises, but those familiar sounds of uncertainty - because Amy is just as bad at lying as you are - make you look up.

'Amy…' You frown, shutting the cupboard door, which Stacie helpfully left open, as is her habit. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing!' says Amy, smiling a little too brightly at you to be real. 'I was just yawning. And saying nothing potentially incriminating about Beca or her whereabouts over the last few months at all.' In the ensuing silence where both you and Stacie exchange confused looks, she lunges forward to steal more more popcorn and escapes the room in quickly escaping the room in that ninja-like way that Amy has.

'Subtle as a fork in the eye, that one,' says Stacie, shaking her head.

'I know the feeling.'

Stacie smiles at you. 'Ready for movie night?'

As Stacie loops her arm over yours and leads chattering about a cute T.A. in one of her classes, you feel a sudden pang of… something, deep in your stomach. It makes you swallow; it makes you stumble. At first you think it's something you ate, or some shark week type thing, but it's not that kind of pain. Next you worry it's a reaction to Stacie, because wouldn't that be a plot twist?

But no; it's neither of those things. You can't put your finger on what it really is, only that it feels like your stomach is curling up on in on itself. It makes you want to do the same thing – to put your head in your hands until it disappears.

It's only later, when you're halfway through the movie that you realise it was sadness that you were feeling. Because soon enough you will never have a night like this with these girls, in this house, ever again. The thought makes you lean against Stacie a little more, nudge Ashley with your foot and smile over at Emily. Trying to hold onto these moments for as long as you can; to communicate with your eyes just how much you love these girls. They love you too. You know that. But Stacie doesn't roll her eyes (yet also never moves away) when you put your head on her shoulder. And Ashley pretends to bite your ankles rather than squawking indignantly and making some sarcastic joke at you.

And Emily…

She doesn't smile like Beca.

No one does.

So who are you really going to miss?

You jerk awake sometime later – you're not sure exactly how much time has passed, but it's now dark and the girls haven't bothered to turn the light on – when Stacie starts poking you in the face.

'Beca's home,' she murmurs to you. 'She looked upset. You should go comfort her.'

'Wait,' you say stupidly as you rise to your feet, still foggy-brained from sleep, 'why me?'

The Bellas, as one, give you a collective what the fuck expression. Even Emily, who comparatively hasn't been with the girls long, seems to have mastered this expression somewhere along the line. Stacie throws one of the unpopped kernels of popcorn at you, catching you right in the middle of the forehead. 'Duh, who else would it be?'

'Yeah, none of us can comfort her like you do, Red,' says Amy. 'And by comfort, we mean have sex with.'

'Use protection!' snarks Cynthia Rose.

'I hope Beca feels better soon,' adds Emily.

Their laughs and comments follow you as you shuffle tiredly out the room. You realise this drama between you and Beca is probably the most excitement that has occurred in the Bellas house for years, but also have known them long enough to see that this is their way of supporting you guys. Their support is wrapped up in sarcastic comments, but it's still there, like a comforting blanket.

You trudge upstairs to Beca's room - already you can hear the faint strains of The Breakfast Club soundtrack, so you think you have some idea of what's going on. You attribute this music as the reason for her not hearing your heavy-footed approach up the stairs, because you happen to walk in at precisely the wrong second.

It's not the first time you've walked in on Beca during a private moment (and vice versa, prominently including one time in your second go at senior year that Beca insists you never talk about). You've never really cared, but somehow this seems blows all the others out of the water. She's on her back, wrapped in her comforter and one arm half covering her face, hand tangled in her hair. For a second you think you've interrupted some other kind of moment, akin to The Incident That Shall Not Be Named, but then you realise Beca's not doing that, she's sobbing.

Hard. Openly. You've never heard her sound so anguished.

The sound rips straight through you. It startles you enough - because you almost never see her cry openly and without restraint - that you totally forget who you're dealing with. 'Oh my God, are you crying?' you blurt out; immediately, you cringe, because that is not the way to help Beca when she's feeling like this. Direct questions like that will only make her walls go shooting up. You're already getting ready to bolt down the staircase in case she starts throwing things at you.

To your surprise, however, Beca doesn't even jump at your outburst. She just turns her head slowly, and blinks once, then twice, not even making an attempt at hiding the wetness still lingering on her cheeks. 'Oh, it's you,' she says, with a strangled chuckle. 'Thought you were Amy. And yep, I am - wow, you caught me showing emotion for once.'

Beca's voice barely wavers, even though tears are still pouring and her breath is stuttering and ragged.

'Oh.'

You're stumped: normally Beca would deny she's crying at any costs, even when she's using your shoulder as a tissue. Unused to dealing with this situation, you're not quite sure what level of comfort is required; your usual method of gently comforting Beca while simultaneously trying to completely ignore the fact that she's upset may not cut it.

She exhales with a roll of her eyes; her arm goes limp, falling to her side. She hiccups. 'Did you come up here for a reason?'

'Yes,' you reply, without thinking – the only reason you came up is because you were told Beca was upset, but you figure she won't want to hear that. 'It's Movie Night. We're probably gonna watch another downstairs if you want to join us?'

Beca's shaking her head before you've even finished the sentence. 'Nah, that's okay. Not sure I can deal with everyone right now.'

'Sure.' You're almost relieved, if a little disappointed that you can't be the one to comfort her: Beca needs space and for once she's actually said that rather than you trying to work out what she really wants you to do. You turn to leave, but for some reason just before you go, Beca asks you to wait. You stop with your foot almost on the second step, confused. 'Huh?'

She huffs out a breath, wiping her face ineffectually with the back of her wrist. 'Jesus, do I have to spell it out all the time?' she says, not quite snapping but definitely terse. 'You're not everyone.'

It takes a moment; then it clicks.

'Oh! You actually want me to stay?' You don't mean to sound so over-enthusiastic, but it's rare to a) see Beca in this sort of state and b) have her actually ask you to stay. You're not saying you bound over to her bed, but there's at least a little spring in your step as you plop yourself down on the edge.

Beca rolls over, still wrapped and tangled in her comforter. 'I'm all weird,' she groans. 'I can't stop crying.'

She really can't. 'Should I steal one of Amy's shirts so you can wipe your face on it?'

You're hoping to make her laugh, and thankfully, it works. 'Well, turns out she's been stealing money from me on the regular, so maybe that's the least she deserves.'

You gasp. 'What a B word. Don't worry, I'll go find that sparkly pink one she wears all the time.'

'I think that's the one she wore the other night to go see Bumper,' Beca replies, nose wrinkling.

'Oh, yeah, you probably don't wanna put your nose in that. That sex stank – gross.' You shiver exaggeratedly, and are rewarded when Beca does that cute eye-rolling-smile thing she does when she wants to grin fully and openly but hasn't quite let go enough to do so.

'God, you are such an idiot.'

'As long as you're smiling, I'm good with that.' You almost reach out to push a strand of hair behind Beca's ear, but think better of it at the last moment so it turns into a strange jerky moment. You know your intentions were transparent when she snorts lightly and bumps her knuckles against your thigh.

'Nerd.'

'How are you feeling?'

Beca makes a weird jerking movement with her shoulders that you can just about read as a shrug. 'I don't know,' she says. 'I mean, I thought I was okay.'

'And you're not?'

'Nope,' she says, with a rueful smile. 'But I seriously thought I was. I didn't feel very much at all at first, and I'm like, well, this is easier than I thought it'd be. And then it all just kind of hit me - I was just screwing around with some music, and suddenly I'm crying into my macchiato and some bitch on the table next to me is giving me a dirty look.'

'Sounds about right.'

'Now I'm all gross and doing that cliché crying listening to music thing. I have become what I hate.'

'Clichés are clichés for a reason.'

'And you know what the weird part is, I feel relieved, but also really freaking sad at the same time. And I realise that makes no sense, so like, don't even.'

'It makes perfect sense to me.'

'I've never had a relationship last this long. Lame as that is. Kinda sucks that it's gone now, even if that's what I wanted to happen.'

'I don't think that's lame at all,' you tell her gently.

She groans, burying her face in her pillow. 'Stop being nice; it's weird and confusing and making me say all kinds of awful crap. It's not fair how I'm always the gibbering mess of the two of us - how do you always do that?'

'That's so not true,' you say. 'You know you drive me crazy, in every possible way.'

You don't mean for your voice to get so low and hoarse as you say that, but it seems inevitable. You can hear Beca swallow in the silence following, as the tension shoots up a notch in only a moment. Suddenly, you ache to touch her. You know you shouldn't – she just broke up with Jesse for God's sake, she needs time and space to recover before you jump into anything – but it doesn't stop you wanting. Apparently Jesse was the last thing stopping you from acting like a complete and utter lunatic.

Against your better judgement, you raise your hand to cup her face, feeling the heat of her cheek beneath your palm; her breath quickens and stings the inside of your wrist when she exhales.

You lean in, just a little.

Beca flinches.

It's only a minute, tiny moment, but you still feel it because every sense is tuned into hers right now. Just enough to derail your thoughts and realise you're being a complete idiot; you move away. And just like that it's awkward again, as Beca knows exactly what you were leaning in for.

'Sorry.'

And of course she's the one apologizing, when you're the one who can't seem to keep control of herself. 'It's fine,' you reply, retracting your hand and your body to a safe distance. 'I'm the one who should be sorry.'

'Is it? Because I know you want...' she trails off, unsure of herself. 'I know what you want but I can't give you that thing quite yet. And wow, most eloquent speaker in the world award, right here.'

'Yes, it is,' you reassure her again, even though your legs feel so shaky you might never walk again. 'I shouldn't have done that. You need Friend Chloe right now, so that's what I should have been giving you.'

'What, you can put it aside that easily?' she says skeptically.

'Not easily. But what's the alternative?'

Beca sits up, the comforter pooling in her lap as she rubs her temples. 'This is messed up,' Beca says in frustration. 'Like, I want to, but… Somehow, I still feel guilty. Like I'm betraying him. That's so dumb, we're broken up.'

'It's not been that long. Maybe you just need time.'

'It's not like we have much time left though, is it?' She clenches her jaw and screws up her face for a few moments. 'I don't know how you're dealing with this so calmly, dude. I'd be bouncing off the walls.'

'It's not as though I'm just snapping my fingers and I'm suddenly calm. I'm just… At a loss at what else I could possibly do. And I want to be there for you, so.'

Beca sighs. 'I thought I told you to stop being nice.' She sits there, you for a few moments; and then she leans in, and kisses you on the cheek. 'I know it's not quite the same,' she murmurs, 'but it'll do, I guess. Call it a placeholder kiss. Why are you looking at me like that?'

'Just wasn't expecting it,' you reply, shutting your mouth promptly before you start catching flies or feeling more unexpected affection for Beca. 'You really need to stop kissing me unexpectedly. It really throws off my delicate equilibrium.'

'Alright, next time I'll warn you.'

'Next time?' Your stomach twists (pleasantly, or unpleasantly, it's hard to say) at the thought.

Beca just grins. 'You know, we should really send DSM a fruit basket or some mini muffins as well, because she totally got this whole thing rolling with her sexy German body.' She yelps as you smack her arm, but honestly, she deserved that one. Beca rubs her arm. 'Why do you always resort to violence?'

'Nothing else seems to get through your thick head.'

'You wound me, woman. Literally.' Beca sighs, glancing at the clock on her bedside cabinet. 'If you're done abusing me, you wanna watch a movie up here with me instead? Nothing too long, though, I gotta be up early tomorrow.'

It's a fairly innocuous statement from anyone other than Beca, but considering who you're talking to, you know you can't overlook anything. Beca isn't like you; she keeps her secrets closely guarded. If she were hiding something you'd probably never know. But if she let that slip, does that means she wants you to ask about what's going on with her? Is she trying to tell you something?

You can't help it - you have to probe further.

'Hey, can I ask you something weird?'

She tenses slightly – and you do too, as you suddenly regret opening up this can of worms, worried you misread the signals - but still nods. 'Sure.'

'It's nothing bad,' you assure her. At least, you hope it isn't.

'Just do it already, loser.'

You take a breath, readying yourself, just in case Beca blows up at you just for asking. 'I've just been wondering… Where do you keep going all day? Why are you up early? At first I thought it was for class, except you don't have any on Tuesdays and yet you were gone all day last week.'

Beca's eyebrow hikes up. 'Little creepy, Chlo. Have you memorised my schedule?'

'… Yes. But that's not the point.'

You can see she's strongly considering lying to you. Beca has this specific tell, or at least you think she does: she stares at you just a second too long as she tries to come up with a convincing story, then she realises what she's doing and her gaze skitters away like you might read her thoughts through her eyes.

You put a hand on her leg, intending to be reassuring, but mostly it comes across as a little intimidating or flirty - one or the other. 'You can tell me, whatever it is,' you say. 'I won't judge you.'

'Really?' You don't know how to respond to that, besides feeling a pang of hurt; you thought she could trust you, but apparently not. Beca licks her lips nervously, and scoots so her back is against the wall. 'Okay,' she starts, already sounding glum, 'if you must know…'

'Yes, I must.'

'Shut up. If you must know,' she goes on, 'I've been uh, sending out demos to see if… Well, if anyone wants to take me under their wing and, you know, work with me. Nothing that big, just trying to put my name out there.'

'So you've been…'

'So I've been out of the house trying to meet people and work on my music, make contacts, blah, blah.'

'Oh my God, really?' You sit up too, excited, but also very confused about why she hasn't told you about this already. You almost hit her again in your enthusiasm, but settle for seizing her by the shoulders and giving her a little shake. 'Beca! That's so great.'

She smiles humourlessly. 'What, you're not mad at me?'

'Why on Earth would I be mad? Of course I'm not. You're amazing, it's great that you're doing this,' you gush. 'Ugh, I'm super proud of you, Bec.'

You hug her, and she hugs you back but you can feel just from the tight line of her body that she's not all there with you right now; there's something else. 'So I guess that wasan original piece of music you were working on the other day, after all.'

You feel Beca's head move next to yours in a nod, stiff and short. 'It's so bad though, I'm not even sure it can be called "music".'

'I'm sure it's great,' you say, but she just snorts derisively. 'So, have you had any luck yet?'

She goes rigid, yet again. And now you know why she hasn't said anything.

'No.'

You take a breath, mostly because she sounds so small right now and hearing that amount of hurt in her voice goes right through you. 'Oh, Bec…'

'They – no one's really responded,' she says. 'I've shown people, and at first they seemed excited, but then when they realise I only make mashups that any kid with a laptop can do…' You squeeze her, but she twists away. 'Don't worry, it's fine.' Her smile is bitter. 'Better I know now than after putting thousands of hours and way too much money into working on this, right? Oh wait…'

You peck her on the temple, wishing you could kiss her on the shoulder or jaw or somewhere else, but all those options feel a little too intimate right now. 'Keep trying,' you reassure her. 'Something good will come along – you're way too talented to be overlooked for long. And then you'll have something inspirational to put in your autobiography when you're rich and famous. You better put me in the dedication, though,' you add. 'I swear I'll hunt you down in your big fancy mansion.'

She chuckles. 'You act like you wouldn't be around there all the time anyway swimming in my indoor pool and using all my stuff. And anyway, if anyone's gonna get rich and famous it'd gonna be you. Have you looked in the mirror?' It's a surprisingly sweet comment, for Beca, and it catches you off guard. Beca seems to realise this too, and moves on swiftly: 'Or Amy, I suppose, she's completely Hollywood material. She's hilarious.'

'I know, or Stacie. She has the looks for it, but she's too set on being a Math nerd…'

'Number five on my list of things I never expected.'

'They're all gonna do well,' you say. 'I look around at you guys and see how much you've grown and I'm like a proud mama, I swear. Gonna be weird sending my babies out into the real world and watching you all graduate and get married and have babies and stuff.'

You mean it as a joke, but Beca frowns a little. 'What, you still don't think you're gonna graduate this year?'

You consider sidestepping the conversation, but feel that Beca deserves an honest answer. 'I'm not sure.'

'Why? Barden's a craphole, why would you willingly keep coming back?'

'I like Barden, and you guys are my family,' you reply. 'Why would I ever want to give that up?'

'Because there's more to the world than acapella?' Beca's brow has lowered, as has her voice, and she suddenly sounds serious. 'Really, Chlo, you could do anything. Yet for some reason you're still with us all these years later. Honestly, you're wasted at Barden - why the hell are you still here instead of teaching underprivileged children how to sing or something like that?''

You don't want to talk about this, and Beca's fully aware of that. It's not something she usually talks to you seriously about, even though the subject of your continued presence of Barden is something of a running joke among the other girls - mainly that you'll still be around when they have children of their own. To your relief Beca never joins in. However, the very fact she doesn't needle you about it incessantly tells you she disapproves.

'The Bellas are everything to me, Beca,' you reply simply. 'I don't want to leave them.'

'I get that. But…' She chews her bottom lip, considering her wording. Eventually, she says. 'They're leaving you. Everyone's moving on, Chloe – we all are. Maybe you should too.'

The words crash down heavily into the pit of your stomach, and there's that feeling again. Sadness. Panic. The impending weight of the future pressing heavily on you.

You really don't want to talk about this.

'It's my decision and I'm happy about it,' you respond tightly.

Lie #3.

'Are you really?'

'Yes. And no offence, Beca, but it doesn't have much to do with you.'

'Really?' She sounds hurt, and you wish she'd just tell you why this bothers her so much. 'That's all you're going to say- that it doesn't have anything to do with me?' When all you can do is nod, her lips become a tight line and she reaches over for her laptop. 'Fine, I'll drop it. Shitty Netflix it is.'

Maybe that's one lie – or rather, bending of the truth, as that phrasing makes you feel better - you shouldn't have told. Beca seems somehow angry with you for wanting to stay with the Bellas and you can't understand why. When you get the call asking you to perform at an upcoming convention, Beca is the first person you tell. However, the reaction is far from enthused: 'That's great, Chlo,' she says, giving you a thumbs up, but little else.

Great? Great? She should be delirious with happiness, but she isn't, and nor are the other Bellas. Emily is the only one who shows any amount of enthusiasm, and that's only because she's excited to sing live for the first time. You'd always thought you and Beca were in this together, equally focused on making the Bellas the best they could be - and maybe you were in the past, but now…

Now, she might be right that everyone else is moving on. You've been trying to deny that fact for a long time but it's true: they're all leaving, and they all have so much future ahead of them. Degrees, careers, romance; they have a purpose.

What do you have?

The convention performance has to go well. The Bellas have to reclaim their status as world champions.

Because without the Bellas, you are nothing.