A/N: Here's the latest chapter from Beca's POV. Just a heads up, there are three foreseeable chapters left, excluding the epilogue. They are all partially written already so I might be able to finish this story within the week.
With the coffee table now set up perfectly (according to Aubrey's standards) you venture into her bedroom to prepare the candles when you suddenly hear Aubrey curse from the kitchen.
"Shit!"
It's amusing the way it comes out, as though it wasn't a word that often escaped the blonde's lips.
You pop into the kitchen, see bags of the takeout, and ask, "What's wrong?"
"I forgot to return this book!" she groans, holding up a massive tome that she had fished out of her bag. She does a double take, realizing that it's you standing there. "What are you doing here?"
"Chloe helped me trick you into a date night," you reply automatically. That book is huge. "Were you just carrying that around—?"
"That's so sweet but I have to go back to campus and return this first." She checks her watch. "I've got fifteen minutes before the library closes."
"I don't think you'll make it—"
"Oh, I will," she says with a determined huff. "This is the moment that makes four years of cardio worth it."
"This is the moment?" you yell incredulously after her as she dashes out into the hall.
You shake your head in amusement and shut the door. The apartment suddenly looks alien to you, and you think it's because you've never actually looked at it before. You were always busy with Chloe, in her room or watching TV, to notice anything.
Nothing wrong with having a look around.
The wall beside the TV, wallpapered with dozens of photographs of Aubrey and Chloe and the Bellas across the years, is the first place you decide to look.
Bellas '09… Bellas '10… '11… '12…
You actually notice the physical changes in Aubrey, from a fresh-faced freshman to a stiff senior. You see the former Bellas captain in the third collage of pictures—Alice, you think her name was. Chloe had told you stories about how she was the worst.
Chloe didn't seem to mind, though.
Your friendly neighborhood redhead can be seen smiling radiantly in all their photos. You smile widely when it's her turn to be seen across the years. Chloe looked not much older than sixteen when she started at Barden, which surprises you. Her face was rounder and softer then, but that was not to say she wasn't even more beautiful today.
Careful.
You have to warn yourself to stay away from those thoughts because it's a dangerous slope you would be on—a slope you thought you had gotten off of already.
Sure, you were attracted to Chloe when you first met—I mean, who wouldn't be?—regardless of the fact that she burst into your shower naked, but the more you got to know her, the more you realized what an angel she was.
Ergo, way out of my league.
And that's okay.
That's okay.
That's okay because you got to be her friend instead, and that was already more than you deserve from Chloe. Heck, even your dad could see that you were on the path to making absolutely zero friends at Barden (Jesse notwithstanding) until you joined the Bellas. And now you have a bunch of misfit a cappella nerds for friends and, well, a relationship you can finally admit you need.
Things were perfect—things are perfect the way they are right now.
You shake your head and regret even thinking about it in the first place. You blame the silence for that, so you walk over to the radio you had teased them once for having and turned it on. Unsurprisingly, it's tuned in to WBUJ. What did you surprise you, however, is the ridiculous instrumental music playing.
You decide to make yourself a cup of coffee to occupy your hands while you subconsciously come up with beats to go along with the music. As you watch the last of the dark liquid drip into the carafe minutes later, you hear the jingling of keys and see a flash of red hair.
Chloe?
You pour the coffee into your mug before following her into the small hallway that leads to their two bedrooms, where you find her comically frozen in front of Aubrey's door with her fist raised.
"Chloe?"
She turns to you ever so slowly and you try not to laugh at how silly she looks.
"I need to talk to Aubrey," she mumbles.
It has only been about half an hour since you last saw her, but she seems so out of it that it makes you wonder if she actually did chat up the bartender downstairs.
Is she drunk?
You finally let out an involuntary laugh when you remember the other times you have interacted with an inebriated Chloe Beale.
"She went back to campus," you explain patiently and clearly, for her benefit. "She forgot to return a book that was due today so she's over at the library ready to fight the librarian if he claims it's overdue."
"Oh, okay then, I'll just—"
She seems eager to leave but you think there's no reason for her to, since your date with Aubrey kind of got postponed until Aubrey's return.
"You can hang out with me," you suggest. "We haven't really hung out since the ICCA finals."
That was true. In fact, it was the most number of days you spent not seeing her since the start of Bellas practices.
But Chloe doesn't seem that into it.
"I think I'll just go back to…" she trails off, which makes you wonder where she had been, but not as much as it makes you wonder about Chloe's original intention.
Maybe she's confused?
"You came home to talk to Aubrey, right?" you say slowly. "What can you talk to her about that you can't with me?"
You know in your mind that that question is a little unfair. Chloe and Aubrey have been friends longer than you and she have been, so there could be a million things Chloe would rather talk to Aubrey about. But you see now that Chloe looks distressed, not drunk like you first thought, and you want to be there for her.
Just returning the favor.
"Actually, I think I'll just got to bed—"
You raise your eyebrow. That is the lamest excuse in the book.
"Are you avoiding me?" you ask, more curious than angry.
"What? No."
"You've been acting weird… er than usual," you add, hoping to lighten things up before they get to wherever they are currently headed. But you can't ignore it anymore, especially after your earlier encounter. "But, like, seriously weird since we came back from the ICCAs. And the only that's changed since then is…" You're thinking out loud now, "Aubrey and me, so I'm kinda worried it has something to do with that."
Your heart leaps into your throat as a horrifying thought enters your mind: maybe Chloe's finally getting sick of having you around, and you stealing her best friend was the last straw.
"Do you not like that Aubrey's—?"
"Beca, I'm sorry. I really am tired," she blurts out rapidly before practically diving into her room and shutting the door behind her.
The slam of the door is still ringing in your ears, bringing with it a feeling of annoyance.
Look who's shutting people out now.
"Fine," you say into the crack between Chloe's door and its frame, making sure to sound genuinely upset and not sarcastic. "I just thought that after all those times you asked me to 'open up' and I did—" you emphasize the pun "—that you'd do the same for me."
You hear shuffling from behind the door and cross your arms triumphantly as you wait for Chloe to reemerge from her bedroom.
Your smugness disappears the moment you see her tear-stained cheeks and puffy red eyes. It hasn't even been ten seconds since Chloe slammed the door on you, but it looks like she's been crying for days.
"I'm sorry," she gasps.
Your heart starts to thump violently as you wonder what on earth Chloe could have possibly done that would make her think she needed your forgiveness. "What are you sorry for?"
"I love you, Beca."
As though the brakes were slammed on, your heart immediately stops beating. Your eyes instinctively search for hers but they are downcast and so clouded with tears that you can no longer see their blueness.
Without her eyes, you don't know what to believe.
"But…?" you say hopefully.
She closes her eyes and you lose hope.
"Because that's how it goes right?" you say, your voice half an octave higher than it usually is. "'I love you, Beca, but you're kind of annoying.' Or, 'I love you, Beca, but that's a hideous shirt you're wearing.'" Your voice catches in your throat and you take a deep breath. "You love me but what? What did I do?"
Please don't say you love me.
"But you're with Aubrey now," she finally says. "I've been falling in love with you ever since I met you, Beca…"
Your mind has gone into shock and it feels sort of like you're underwater. You can't even register what she's saying anymore; her voice comes in indistinct warbles and you try but fail to keep a hold on what she's saying.
This wasn't supposed to happen. Chloe was not supposed to fall for you; she wasn't supposed to lean on you. You were supposed to lean on her. But you owe it to her—dammit, why is this happening?!—to listen, even if it is the most painful thing for you to hear.
You're practically begging her not to be saying those words.
'Cause I can't say it back.
"If there is even remotely a chance that I can be what you need…" she's saying with a shuddering breath. "Who you want, Beca… I beg you to consider me. Keep me in the running. Because I would give you my whole world if you let me."
It's your turn to close your eyes and take a breath. "Chloe…"
You don't even know how to begin.
"Chloe, you deserve—"
Not good enough.
"—I don't even compare to—"
Nope.
"—look, you're amazing—"
For the first time in your life, you wish you had listened to your dad's advice on practicing elocution.
"—you're kind and passionate and funny—"
You stop yourself before you reveal that what you really mean is that someone other than this pale, tiny, emotionally distant wannabe-DJ should get Chloe's whole world. It was the craziest thing in the world to turn her down, but you knew it was the right thing to do. You've convinced yourself of this months ago.
You would ruin me, Chloe Beale.
"It just… it wouldn't work," you confess. "I'm really sorry, Chloe. It's different… with you… I wouldn't know how to—how to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. You deserve someone better."
You wonder how it's possible to possess such self-destructive behavior—it's Chloe Beale, for God's sake! And you're walking away?
But I have Aubrey and—
"Aubrey is… I want you to know—I need you to know—that I'm not choosing her over you."
But I am.
"I love you, Chloe… just not in that way."
You words hang in the air awkwardly and it takes all of your strength just to look at her in spite of the massive guilt you feel in your gut.
But—wait, what?—she's smiling.
"I understand," she says so politely, like a stranger would. "I think I'll go."
Her smile is fake, you realize, and her eyes—not surprisingly avoiding yours—have stopped shining. They were dull and hard.
And in that moment you knew that if you let her go now you would lose her forever. As if to bring life into that metaphor, Chloe starts to make her way out. You don't blame her for wanting to distance herself from you, but the least you could do was give her the comfort of her own bed.
"No, Chloe, wait," you block her way with your arm, "this is your apartment. I should be the one—"
"Just let me go, Beca."
You almost drop your arm right then and there from the sheer tone of her voice. You've never heard it used that way and it scares you. But to hell with that, you need to know she'll be okay. "Where are you going?"
"I'll be back in a few hours. Just let me go."
You glance down briefly to see the corner of her phone sticking out of her pocket. She'll be reachable, at least, so you slowly lower your arm and let her go. She is graceful, even in defeat.
You can't believe this is how it ends. After making sure you would not to fall for her, you end up destroying the friendship you had built up to cherish anyway.
That's not fair. Not to either of us.
"I get it if you want some time and space," you say, effectively stopping her on her way out. "But I really want us to continue being friends… if—if that's okay with you, of course."
It was, for all intents and purposes, a Hail Mary pass. She would be graduating soon—I think?—and leaving Barden; there was no need to hold on to this mess of a friendship.
But to your surprise, she turns and looks back at you. It's too quick, though, so you couldn't read her expression very well. Then she says, "Yeah, totes."
You're flooded with relief and sigh a "Thank you," but you're not that naïve. You know it will take a lot of time before things could get back to the way they were, but at least Chloe was willing to try.
"Can you do me a favor?" she asks suddenly.
"Of course. Anything."
Anything to keep me from losing you.
"Please don't tell her about this," she says, and you know she means Aubrey. "I'm sure you'd agree that it would just complicate things."
"Uh, yeah, okay," you say, a little disconcerted because Chloe never spoke to you as formally as she just did. It almost feels like a joke; like you're just doing serious impressions and she'll go back to being all goofy after you've had a laugh. You can already feel her beginning to distance herself from you and, surprisingly, it already hurts a lot. "But, you know, it might be good for you to talk to her, too."
"Nothing good will come out of her knowing," she replies, and there goes your hope that you wouldn't drive a wedge between the two best friends. "Again, I'm so sorry, Beca."
Before you can say anything else, she's out the door.
Silence.
That bastard is back again, threatening to make you think things you don't want to.
You don't actually realize the radio is still playing until you hear Jesse's voice greeting the listeners and announcing the next song. You wish your mind didn't drift in that direction, though, toward—
Jesse, A.K.A., the other person whose heart I broke this week.
You walk over to the radio and turn it off in the middle of Jesse's spiel. You don't feel like adding more to your guilty plate. You sit on the couch and hunch over, burying your face in your hands, trying to simultaneously forget and make sense of what just happened.
You don't know how long you're sitting there, rewinding the last few minutes and trying to reconcile the fact that you had just been confessed to by your best friend, who also happened to be your current somewhat-girlfriend's best friend.
You worry about how your reaction—your rejection—might have appeared to Chloe, whether she understood your reasons for turning her down. You don't think, or rather, you hope, it wouldn't surprise her since you did just get together with Aubrey.
Speak of the devil—I mean, no, not the devil!
For the third time that night you hear the jingle of keys in the hallway. Aubrey bursts into the apartment, panting but otherwise looking extremely pleased with herself.
"The jerk tried to slap on a late fee but I showed him," she announces. She pauses, seeing you with your face in your hands. "Beca?"
You look up, ready to mask the look of exhausted contemplation but, as it turns out, there's no reason to put too much effort.
You can't count the number of times you've seen Aubrey genuinely happy in the past year, which makes it so rare and so pleasantly blinding when you see her that excited about returning a freaking book on time. You laugh so hard you actually snort.
"What is up with you?" she asks quizzically.
You extend your hand to invite her over to the couch and pull her down next to you. You gently brush a loose lock of her golden hair away from her face—you barely notice the lack of a cringe coming from you over that cheesy gesture—and press your lips together.
This feels right.
When you pull apart, her eyes open slowly. "I take it you missed me."
You don't have time to come up with a quip; you have to tell her while the emotions are still fresh. "I'm glad you chose to tell me how you feel." She needs to know this. "I really feel good about this—about us."
Aubrey's perfectly shaped eyebrow rises. "What is up with you?" she repeats. "Did something happen while I was gone?"
You shake your head—as a way to both answer her and rid your mind of the events. You need to focus on this relationship, no matter how much collateral damage it has caused so early in its life. "Although you did kind of ruin the date I so tirelessly planned for."
"Oh, did I?" Aubrey looks behind her at the coffee table, where you had arranged the plates and glasses earlier.
"Yeah, I mean, the food is cold and everything…"
Aubrey turns back to you with a wicked smirk. "Well then," she stands up and pulls you by the hand toward her bedroom. "I guess I'll have to give you something else to eat."
Your mouth drops. "Did you just make a dirty joke?"
"I did." She scrunches her nose. "I don't care for it."
"I actually do know one more dirty joke."
You stop tracing your finger across Aubrey's back, confused by the non sequitur—although, to be fair, nothing much has been said in the past hour other than moans and other sexual noises. "Huh?"
"Another dirty joke." Aubrey shifts from being on her stomach to being on her side and holds the blanket to her chest. "Wanna hear it?"
"Go for it," you say as you move your fingers up to her collarbone instead.
"What's the difference between a hooker and a drug dealer?"
You pause to give it a think. It probably has something to do with selling, but you play along and ask, "What?"
"A hooker can still wash her crack and resell it."
You groan in both disgust and amusement. "That's so vulgar. So of course it's the only other joke you know."
"Chloe told me that joke," she defends with a chuckle.
Your gut feels like it just got punched. You struggle to keep a smile on but your fingers have suddenly backtracked, away from Aubrey's skin and onto your own. You don't want to be reminded of Chloe and you wish Aubrey wouldn't dwell on her, either. But judging by her tone, Aubrey intended that joke to segue into—
"So Chloe helped you set this up, huh?"
You nod weakly.
"I bet she told you exactly what I wanted from a date," she smiles.
You smile, too, in spite of yourself. "Set the table perfectly, dim the lights, water with cucumber and basil… uh, candles in the bedroom… Oops." You look sheepishly around her bedroom. You forgot to light the candles. "And—rats, I forgot The Bachelorette. I couldn't find you a single-stemmed rose in time, sorry."
Aubrey laughed. "That was so spot on I'm actually flattered." Her expression changes. "And maybe a little guilty."
Guilty?
She looks at you uncomfortably. "I don't know if you've ever heard the—I mean, Barden's a pretty small campus, you probably have heard—"
"Heard what?"
"A rumor," she says hesitantly. "About Chloe and me."
Your heart leaps into your throat.
Holy shit. No. No, no, no—
"Relax, nothing happened!" Aubrey must have seen the look on your face because she sat up on her elbow urgently. "It was just a rumor—perpetuated by the Trebles, of course, to get people to think of the Bellas differently—"
You vaguely remember hearing some insinuations to that effect when you first got involved with the Bellas, but you chalked it up to society not being mature enough to accept the idea of an all-female group without having to degrade it into something sexual.
Bunch of misogynists, you used to think of them.
"But if it's just a rumor…" you say slowly. "Why should you feel guilty?"
Aubrey relaxes back down and faces the ceiling. "The rumor was that we hooked up, and that wasn't true. But most rumors come out of some truth, and this one's was that… Chloe kind of liked me back in freshman year. Like, like liked me."
You know Aubrey used the alliteration to lighten the weight of her revelation, but it isn't working on you—especially considering what had just happened moments ago. Your gut lurches again because, obviously, things went awry for Chloe.
"You turned her down," you say—half as a question, half as a statement.
Aubrey looks remorseful. "Back then I said it was because I wasn't comfortable with... the idea of being with a girl."
You nod, feeling that monster in your gut start to grow.
"She was my roommate and practically my only friend in college," Aubrey continues. "I was so scared it would ruin everything. I expected her to request a dorm change and never speak to me again. It got so bad I stress-vomited the whole night."
She has a faraway look in her eyes, which makes you think this is the first time she's coming to terms with these memories.
"But she didn't. She found me, held my hair back, and wiped the sweat off my face like she always did." She bites down at her quivering bottom lip and smiles up at you with shining eyes. "She said I was overreacting, said she wouldn't leave me just because I didn't like her that way. Ever since then… I knew we'd be best friends forever. It sounds so junior high but I really do think that. Chloe's just that kind of person, you know?"
You nod once again. You're literally speechless because nothing you can say can make you feel better about yourself right now.
"I guess I feel guilty because after all these years, Chloe still cares enough to know what I want from my dates… while I never even gave her a second thought."
I may not be able to make myself feel better, but maybe I can make her feel better.
"I don't think you have to feel guilty about all that," you say quietly. "Like you said, Chloe's just that type of person. The type who remembers stuff like that—"
And who bakes you a jar of cookies on your birthday after knowing you for only a month—and who makes sure to remind all the members of your a cappella group to sing 'Happy Birthday' during practice.
"—whether or not you're in a relationship with her."
You say that like you want it to be true. It has to be, otherwise you are the dimmest person in the world. Somehow you already know that you are.
Aubrey looks sufficiently comforted and moves closer to you. You lie back down and let her rest her head on your shoulder while you think about whether it's a good idea to ask her how Chloe reacted when she found out about the two of you getting together.
In the end, you decide you don't want to know.
"There's something else."
You almost jump in surprise. You thought Aubrey had fallen asleep. "What is it?"
"On my way here—the first time, before the library—I ran into Jesse."
Oh.
"Okay, maybe not 'ran into' as much as 'shoved him into a janitor's closet and confronted him about us' kind of thing."
You can't help but smile widely at the image. "Classic Posen, goes straight for the jugular."
"He didn't want to talk to me at first, that's why I had to do it," she explains. "Y'know, he really is a good guy."
You look at her curiously. "What did you talk about?"
"Well, I told him I was sorry, of course, for everything. And I told him… I told him that I was better for you." She blushes as she says it out loud and your heart swells.
When Jesse accused you of not giving him a chance to prove that he could give you what Aubrey could, you yourself have been trying to discern why you chose her. So it's a bit of a surprise that your reply is automatic:
"You are."
You see the answer more clearly now, and you think that may be thanks to Chloe, of all people.
"I know this relationship didn't start off in the best way… people got hurt because of it—"
You realize your slip-up and hope to God Aubrey thinks you used the word 'people' in the general sense.
"—but you and me, I mean, we're not perfect, obviously. And I think that's what makes us work so well."
This is the difference.
"Jesse is… a great guy. But it's for that reason I don't think it ever would have worked out. I felt like shit when we fought after semis and… it was all my fault. He didn't do anything wrong. It was on me to apologize and make up with him. As much as I know I deserved it… I don't think that's a good basis for our relationship—Jesse trying to fix me, the fuck up."
Aubrey looks at you with a slightly angry frown on her face. You realize you never really talked to her about Jesse. Why would you? She doesn't know about his whole 'getting you to love movies' shtick.
"It was well-intentioned," you say quickly before Aubrey regrets apologizing to Jesse, "but being with someone perfect when you're not isn't right."
As you say this, you're no longer thinking about Jesse.
"You frustrate me, Aubrey Posen." You shake your head with a smile. "You were everything I rebelled against yet I couldn't tear myself away from you—and believe me, I tried. But because, I don't know, the heart and the brain aren't connected... I want to be with you."
Aubrey smiles. "I think you're getting better at being eloquent."
Ha. If only it kicked in earlier tonight.
"See? I'm already being a better version of myself when I'm with you." You turn to your side and face her. "But I'm serious, I want to be with you. It's not about what's best for me or what's best for others—not anymore." And you look at her, all of her. "It's just about what you mean to me."
Response to reviews:
Guest and guest(Aug. 13) - Since it's not a spoiler anymore, I guess I can say that the story is Mitchsen, but the focus is on Chloe as a character, where Bechloe is a complicated thing haha.
Alice (Nov. 5) - Thanks for reading despite the scarce reviews! Haha. And thank you so much, I hope I continue to deliver. :)
bilbobarneybobs (Jan. 31) - I've been thinking of updating ever since your PM haha. It's three chapters 'til the epilogue and I'm excited to get there! Thank you, I like writing from different points of view but I have to admit, I really struggled through Beca's. (See below haha.)
A/N: So I figured out why I find it so difficult to write from Beca's POV. It's 'cause I really don't see Mitchsen happening. That is not to say that Beca and Aubrey don't end up together (because, clearly, they already have) in this story, but it explains why the Beca chapters are, in my eyes, the most awkward to read and write; I can't empathize with her.
P.S. I'm not totes against the Mitchsen ship though.
