Guest (Dec 12), Guest (Dec 9): I'm taking that as a compliment.
NightmareWalker: Wow I never thought about the rose that way. I mean, for me, it's just a simple symbol for their love. Well, actually, I wanted to make a trademark, like an author's signature. Even without reading the author's name, you sort of figure out that the story is written by me. And it will always remind me of Poison & Wine where all of this adventure started.
cricket: The rose that brought us all kinds of feels.
Guest (Dec 10): Thank you so much, dear! :) Reviews like this just inspire me to improve my writing in any way I can. It's my honor to bring you good Bechloe stuff.
50 Shades of Pitch Perfect: Aubrey died, unfortunately. :(
avidreader: Hi! It's nice to hear from you again, dear. I can never thank you enough for flattering me. Well, the transitions are a tremendous challenge, but I'm just not a fan of using borders just to put a clear cut between scenes. Aubrey is like the biggest piece in the puzzle. Without her, I don't know how I'm ever going to connect Chloe back to the physical world. But really, she had to die. Stan and Stacie; I'm glad they're back too. They will always look out for Chloe. For Beca. And the rose? I can't even.
RicchanxMio: I hope you check your email today.
madness2013: LOL. Come on, aren't you excited about knowing how it ends?
Guestttt (Dec 9): Well, yeah. Beca's last memory is when she boarded the plane to Berlin.
BeChloeFan01: Salamat po! :)
So I've been listening to Death Cab for Cutie... Oh, and I don't speak Chinese (Mandarin, Cantonese, etc). If there's anyone here who can check and correct the ones I put in, feel free to call my attention.
CHAPTER NINE: I Will Follow You Into The Dark
So confusing. One moment I hear her laughing; I feel her lips trailing kisses all over my body; I see her eyes looking at me lovingly. Then next thing I know I'm standing underneath a sunny sky. The sunlight burns my skin and the sand irritates my feet. The salty breeze introduces a whole new environment; the sound of the waves crashing into the ebb indicates the intimate distance of the sea. I feel something move through my legs. I look down and I see me. Another me.
This Chloe appears to be rattled and just as bewildered as I am. She looks to the side, and I follow her gaze. There she is, my dear Beca. I can distinguish that slouchy back even from miles away. My feet are responding, keen to approach her. But this other Chloe beats me to it. She pushes herself up, a little groggy, then dashes to the water.
At first, Beca doesn't seem to recognize her- or me. And it's striking me hard. It kills me for a second that the love of my life doesn't know who I am. So, really, it's a relief to see Beca come back to her senses. The other Chloe walks away from the water to sit on the shore; the brunette sits next to her. They talk, still oblivious of my existence. It scares me. It's like realizing that Beca can live perfectly fine without me, except that I'm being replaced by my own ghost. What the fuck is happening? I don't understand.
After some time, Beca retrieves a bottle from a messenger bag. It's so clear I can see the folded piece of paper sealed inside. She goes back to the water with her and releases the bottle into the water. What is it? What does the note say? I need to know.
"Chloe!"
I jump a little at Luke's voice startling my soul. My friends, they surround me with looks challenging my sanity. If Aubrey were here, she would have my back. She would defend me no matter how unreasonable I may sound like.
"Say it again?" asks Jessica as if my words were unclear the first time.
"It's Beca."
"What do you mean?" Stacie questions. Of course, I don't expect them to understand. Or believe it. "Are you saying this bottle was sent to you by Beca?"
I nod my head, "It's a message from Beca."
"Okay," says Luke, but I know I'm not able to convince anybody. It's just an 'okay' so as to not hurt my already crumbling feelings. "Okay, Chloe. We hear you. But how can you be so sure?
I don't know. That's the thing. If only they can see what's happening inside my head. There are so many pictures, memories if you would call them that I myself cannot comprehend. Maybe I'm indeed going crazy. But something about it tells me they are all real. And my heart, my mind, my soul; they all tell me the same - this bottle came from Beca. That, I believe.
"It sounds really crazy, but it feels like a deja vu kind of thing, you know. I saw Beca. She was standing in the water, at sea. She was holding a bottle, the same as this, only it was a piece of paper inside. I don't know what it is, but I saw her release it into the water. Maybe it's a cry for help? I really don't know. But it's from her. I know it's from her. She's alive. Beca must be-"
"Stop!"
The rest of us turn to Stan, shocked by his sudden outburst. I should have known that, of all people, he is the one I have to convince the most.
"Stan, it's from Beca."
"No, Chloe!" he exclaims. "This has to stop. I can deal with you brushing us off or shutting everyone out so you can sulk all alone in this house, that's fine, I understand that kind of depression, but this? Oh come on, this is ridiculous! You honestly think that this piece of shit came from the underworld, from Beca, as a message. That's crazy! No, I won't put up with this. I'm sorry."
"From the underworld," I repeat his words.
"Yes! Underworld. It's been a month, Chloe. I should know when to stop keeping my hopes up. The plane was caught on fire in midair! There's no way Beca would survive that crash. And even if she did, they should have found her by now, a long long time ago. Well, guess what? They haven't found anything, and it's an entire fucking ocean!"
"Stan!" Stacie reprimands him, standing in front of him, getting in between the two of us. I appreciate the effort and all, but I've heard what he has to say. There's nothing she can do to take them back. "Go easy on her. Aubrey just… Chloe's been through a lot."
"No! She has to hear it from someone. We can't let her cling on to this now. You don't actually believe her, do you?"
"Stan," Jessica joins in, and so does Luke. "Stacie's right. Just give Chloe a break for now."
"Guys, she obviously doesn't have a sound mind right now. If we let her believe that this stupid rose-in-a-bottle here truly came from Beca, then it's going to be a hell of a problem."
"Just give her some time, man."
I hate this - the feeling that I'm such a helpless, pathetic, neurotic human being who must have gone completely nuts about everything. I hate them; they talk about me as if I don't exist in this room, as if I'm already too numb to even get hurt by their words. I can hear their noises, their chops, and they're getting into my head no matter how high the walls I build. I massage the back of my neck; I feel so exhausted with no sleep and no meal for the past weeks. My eyes are drooping, dog-tired.
"Get out," escapes out of my own mouth.
I look up to witness my friends all staring right back at me. So what if they think I'm crazy? Cradling the rose-in-a-bottle that mysteriously appeared in my doorstep with my shaky arms, I leave them in the kitchen to return to my cage. I lean back on the sofa and switch on the television. Oggy and the Cockroaches. My eyes are glued on the screen without really paying attention to the show. Stan storms out of the front door, and Luke hurries after him. With my back towards them, I feel the girls' gaze upon me.
"Please take care of yourself," is the last thing I hear from Stacie before the front door shuts close. Finally, I'm alone. With this mystery bottle. With this mystery rose. It's like having Beca back with me, holding her tight as we idle for the rest of a lazy afternoon, except she's not here; her physical body is still out of my reach.
My sight revolves to black as Beca blindfolds me. This is a super terrible idea considering the fact that we just finished re-watching The Conjuring. She knows how much I hate everything creepy, so I know just how much she's excited about this game we're about to play.
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
"I'm guessing it's just the middle one."
"Aw, baby, you know me too well."
She plants a quick kiss on my lips; if this is what I get for joking around a bit, no one's complaining, is there? I listen to her cheery voice explain the mechanics of the game once more. Really childlike, she's simply thinking about playing a silly game while my so-called mature self is contemplating how sexy this actually is. My horny peewee brain is expanding with malicious imaginations on how this Hide-and-Clap will eventually end. The bedroom will do.
"Follow me," she whispers into my ears, sending that tingling rush across my spine. Yes, I will. I will follow her.
[All this feels strange and untrue
And I won't waste a minute without you]
Her warm hands slide off mine as the game is about to start. I take a couple of very cautious steps, bumping my knees against the coffee table in the process. Darn it. I hear her laugh; she hasn't gone that far. With a smirk, I follow her through the dark.
[The anger swells in my guts
And I won't feel these slices and cuts]
I ask her to clap. One. The sound resonates from the side. I move towards it as carefully as I possibly could; I have no freaking idea where I am or where I'm going, just the promise that I'm going to find her, to catch her in the end. Secretly, I sniff the air inside the room. I get a hint of her sweet fragrance. So unfair; it's like I can sense her everywhere now.
[Tell me that you'll open your eyes]
Again, I ask her to clap. Two - I only have one more cheat left. My eyebrows furrow because it sounds like she has hidden away into the next room. I carry on with my blind navigation. I've knocked down this and that; someone already owes me a nice massage afterwards. But it feels like forever, yet I still haven't found her.
[Get up, get out, get away from these liars
'Cause they don't get your soul or your fire]
Three. She doesn't clap though. I listen closely, but there's no sound. She's cheating, the first thing that comes to my mind. I've probably already trapped her in a corner or something, and she doesn't want me to find her. I call out her name and ask for my last reserved clap. Still, she doesn't respond. Suddenly, I have a strange feeling about this. My hands hold the blindfold, ready to remove it when a pair of warm hands gently grabs me by the arm, stopping me, paralyzing every inch of my body as if time has frozen except for this moment we share. Her scent, I notice is stronger than ever.
[I want so much to open your eyes
'Cause I need you to look into mine]
"Don't," Beca murmurs, pulling down my hands to my sides. "You'll lose."
Absentmindedly, I nod. I'm melting to her touch, to her aroma, to everything about her and beyond. She has me on her fingertips, and she knows it. I quiver at her hands upon my shoulder sliding down gracefully to my chest, her soft lips expertly nibbling on the sensitive spots of my neck, tender and patient. My body is responding at its own accord - swallowing my sense of control, breathing out grateful moans until it's driving me crazy. I pull her face, hungry, so I can kiss her, just as slowly and gently. I resolve the feeling that this is all I need for the rest of my life.
I let her in, her tongue into my mouth, her hand underneath my shirt, her soul into my heart. I let her in without doubt or remorse. I don't regret the day I left Ben at the altar, or the night I walked away from my parents to follow my heart's desire. Being with Beca just like this makes me happy more than I could ever imagine. Someday they will understand. Someday, they will forgive me.
[Tell me that you'll open your eyes]
She breaks away from the kiss, giggling, just so she can tease me and see me grow sexually frustrated. Yes, I know her that well, and she knows me just the same. I quickly untie my blindfold; as the cloth drops on the floor, just like what Beca said, I realize I've already lost the game. I'm standing in the middle of the kitchen, all alone, without her; I see my reflection on the window glass - the dark circles around my bloodshot eyes and the tear slipping away remind me that I'm back to the present where Beca and I just don't seem to co-exist anymore. I look down at my trembling hands; the left one is bleeding and glasses are shattered on the floor. Clueless, I can't narrate what has happened here either.
Accordingly, I clean up the mess. I attend to my wound, a small cut, and affix around it a band-aid. By six o'clock in the evening, I'm all prep up for World War Z on HBO - not to watch or be engrossed by it, just to divert my thoughts from my troubled mind. I get the feeling that this will be a routine for me from this day forward. To break it on the very first day, however, the doorbell rings. A few hours after they left, I wonder why my friends have decided to return.
"Hi," Stacie greets me happily when I open the door. "You busy?"
This is getting kind of a drag quite honestly. I look away from her concerned gaze and push the door close. Stacie, though, is fast enough to stop it with her hand. I keep my eyes down, yet I can sense her dismay nonetheless.
"Chloe," she starts. "I'm trying to help you here. But you have to help yourself too, alright?"
"I told you everything I have to say. If you don't believe me, then I don't need you here. You are free to go and never come back. I don't care."
"I care."
"What do you want from me?"
"The bottle," she answers, and I shoot her a look. What does she want from the bottle? "You still have it, right? We need it."
"Why?"
"Because someone just changed his mind," she replies, cocking her head to the side, leading my sight to Stan who seems to be waiting for us inside his car. He glimpses at me then rolls back up the window. "A friend of a friend knows this woman who claims to have the ability to communicate with spirits or something. I think she can explain what this bottle is all about."
Listening to her explanation, I take a step out of the house, the first since Aubrey… died.
"Wait." Stacie blocks my way to my confusion. "There's a catch, Chloe. We are taking the bottle to her, but nobody's going anywhere until you shower and eat something. You can sleep in the car."
I look at her vacantly. She appears to be victorious because she knows I will bite the bait, chew it if necessary. Okay, whatever. I'll do whatever it takes to get Beca back.
My throbbing head signifies how much of a bad idea it always is to get drunk. Especially with Aubrey. I'm blaming her, by the way, for not letting any second pass by without a glass of alcohol in my hand. And I'm blaming her for ditching me last night. Or did I ditch her? I slap my hand on my forehead and exhale. I don't remember much from last night. Except for this one thing. I remember it pretty well - my sin.
It's not a fantasy or hallucination. I know it's real as I turn to my side to see Beca putting on her jeans. She's half-way through dressing up which means we're half-way through this one stupid mistake.
I guess she has sensed my prying eyes; we stare at each other for some time until the guilt is eating me alive. She too doesn't say anything. I wrap the covers around me as I climb out of bed, searching for every piece of clothing I used to be wearing when we got to her house. I'm not supposed to be here - not alone, not any time of the day, not naked. I bet she's thinking about the same thing right now. Should I at least say 'good morning' or just awkwardly march out of the door?
"Do you want some coffee?" I'm glad she spoke first. "Or Advil, whatever?"
I look around, kinda lost, seeking for that item I just can't seem to locate. "Uh… have you seen my… uh… y-you know, my…"
"Oh," I'm relieve she gets it. She begins to search for it as well, flipping some things here and there until she found it among the sheets. She hands me over my panties in a humorously cautious manner. Well, it's not a bomb. "There."
"Thanks," I mutter back. Awkward. Everything is awkward, and I don't like it!
"Maybe I should just leave you for a minute, yeah?" she lets out a nervous laugh. It's so not her. Something's off. Well, of course, something is off. We just committed the mortal sin. A few days before my wedding. That's right, Chloe. You're getting married. To Ben. Not Beca.
"You can stay," my idiotic, sinful mouth blurt out when she's about to head for the door. I'm digging my own grave here, but there's something about watching her walk away that pains my chest.
Beca, I can tell, is startled. She narrows her eyes on me, questioningly. I know there are a million questions invading her brain just now. And we both know it would be much easier to pretend this never happened and carry on with our own separate lives. But somehow, we're choosing the more complicated path, the road less taken.
She sits on a chair while I get dress. Then I settle on the side of the bed, fidgeting my fingers, my engagement ring. We stay there in the room in complete silence, but I think I can hear her heart hardly breathing. It's suffocating, yet more carefree than I've ever been with Ben or anybody else. It's like heaven in its ugliest form. Still, it's heaven. With her.
"Look, Chloe, about last night, I'm sorry. I know you're getting married, and I don't want you thinking that I took advantage of-"
I make her stop immediately because I don't want her apologizing to me. We're equally at fault. No, in fact, I'm the one with the fiance. When we both walk out of this room, go back out to the real world, it's not me who will end up alone with a broken heart. "It wasn't the alcohol. For me, it wasn't."
"Not even for me," she quietly replies.
"I'm the one who should be sorry."
She chuckles and peeks at me, her blue eyes penetrating my soul. "Last night, that's all of me. I know it's wrong the moment I kissed you, but I couldn't stop, not when I finally have you. And we both know how this is going to end, but I wanted to surrender every bit of me to you. Chloe, I-"
"Don't," I cut her off as soon as I can. I cannot let her finish that sentence. I know what she was about to say, and I can't hear it, not when I'm getting married in a few days. "Please don't say it. Beca, please."
My watery eyes synchronize with hers. We stare at each other for the longest time, crying, agonizing a menacing goodbye. Finally, she gives up, nodding her head as she flashes a bittersweet smile. "You break my heart everyday, Chloe Beale."
"I'm sorry," I blink more tears; my chest burns like hell.
She accepts my apology, leaves her seat, and turns her back on me. No. I watch her head for the door; it's like a movie scene in slow motion. I know if I let her go now, if I let her give me up now, I will never see her again. Never.
And I can't live with that. Perhaps, I'm not thinking straight anymore. I jump on my feet and rush to her. I pull her by the arm and kiss her. I want her lips, her tongue, her hair, her face, her ears, her jaws, her neck, her chest, her waist… I want her, all of her.
"What are you doing?" she groans, but kisses me back anyway.
"I'm following my heart."
I kiss her again, and again, and again as we move to the bed. She pushes me down; I crave for her weight upon my body. With clear and sober minds, this is starting to be a thousand times better than last night. Better until my phone starts ringing. Futurama. I know it's mine because it's the ringtone I have assigned to Ben, my freaking fiance. Like a remote control, Beca automatically halts and moves away from me.
"It's like the tenth time he's called since seven," she murmurs, her eyes avoiding mine. "Answer it. He must be worried. Well, tell him there's no reason for that now."
My attention is split between the noisy phone like a ticking clock and Beca preparing to leave. She doesn't say goodbye, but I know it is. She walks out of the door, and I know it is. My heart shatters to the tune of the extended version of Futurama opening theme.
"We're here," announces Stacie. "This is the address."
I follow her gaze out the car window. We have pulled over at the entrance of a grubby old apartment where no person, not even a cat, should ever reside. It's almost nine-thirty, and we are about to enter a bat cave in the city. Do I really look that miserable now for these two to bring me all the way here just to prove that they're still on my side?
"Why now?" I ask when we stand by the front door. Stan in particular.
"We're running out of time, aren't we?" He refuse to look at me, but I sense the same misery that I've been feeling since Beca disappeared. "You're about to lose a wife, I get it. But I'm about to lose my sister, Chloe."
I feel ashamed. I never looked at it that way.
"Hi, excuse me." Stacie meets a guy on his way out. He's obviously under the influence of drugs judging by his physical state; he merely stumbles his way pass us and disappears to the corner of the street. "Okay, should we go in?"
"Keep close," Stan assures us some protection.
He pushes the door open and leads us in. As expected, the hallway is not as tidy as it should be. Stacie cringes at the foul smell coming somewhere. Even I who kept my sweatpants on for weeks fight the need to vomit at the unhealthy environment. We ascend the stairs up to the third floor. Relying on the address handwritten on a small piece of paper, we stop at Unit 29. Stan knocks on the dusty door; it creaks opens after a good five seconds. An Asian woman peeps through the small gap in between.
"We're looking for a Kimmy Jin."
She doesn't reply, or move at all.
"Oh, I know Chinese!" Stacie claims and pushes Stan to the side. "Nin hao. Ni zhu zai zheli?"
I'm impressed by her effort, but the woman appears to be Korean who speaks a completely different language. Regardless, the woman widens the opening to her abode.
"I was born in Portland," she says in fluent American accent.
"English, good." Stan shows her the address. "We're looking for Kimmy Jin. Do you know her?"
She glances at the bottle then to me. Deep inside, I panic because I feel like she knows who I am, what I've been through. She steps forward, moving towards me with an odd threatening stare that Stan has to stand in the way to protect me.
"You've seen death," she tells me.
"I-I was in a car accident."
"No," she shakes her head strongly. "You've been dead."
"Okay, that's enough." Stan glares at the woman. "Don't talk about her like that, alright? If you don't know Kimmy Jin, then we'll be on our way. Thank you for your time, good night."
Infuriated, he leads me and Stacie away from the unit. But I'm curious. I'm desperate to hear what she knows about me, about Beca, the memories in my head that I cannot explain. I get away from Stan's grip and return to the woman. I show her the bottle and tell her everything I know about Beca. I want her to help me find her in any way possible.
"You have to go back," she offers a confusing answer. "Go back to the Limbo."
Limbo? But I've never been there. Never heard of it, in fact.
Song: Open Your Eyes - Snow Patrol
A/N: Okay, writing that part with Beca and Chloe in the bedroom is just so heartbreaking I had to take a few days off from this story. By the way, the next chapter is the last.