Chapter Eleven

Stacie felt like shit. Her head felt like there was a hammer repeatedly being whacked to her forehand. Daylight was way too bright and she was pretty sure that if she moved anymore than inch, the need to vomit would overtake her. It's a good job Beca left that bucket by her bed.

She was drifting back off to sleep when the apartment door slammed shut. The sound set off that stupid hammer and she was now fully awake, damn.

"Why did I drink those shots?" she whispered to herself, as she reached for her phone to check the time. It was just after twelve; surely Beca couldn't be back already.

"You chickened out, didn't you?" she shouted, instantly regretting her louder volume.

No answer.

"Beca?"

Nothing.

"Hey, if I'm being robbed, please can you quietly shut the door on the way out. Slamming it closed on the way in was inconsiderate. Some people are hung-over you know?!"

Fuck, I'm going to have to stand up, aren't I?

Slowly, Stacie threw the covers back and swung her legs to the floor; as she stood up, she felt the room spin, causing her to fall back down on the bed. Her second attempt went better and she was just about to walk onto the hallway when she collided with an unexpected object. Her arms flailed and the top half of her body lunged forward, leaving her legs behind. She was doubled over on something that was both soft and hard at the same time.

"Becs, I told you to move the damn sofa before you left" she groaned into the seat cushion, pulling herself upright. "My headache is not equipped to deal with this shit right-"

She stopped mid sentence, as eyes spotted the back of Beca's head leaning against the sofa. Stacie noticed her shoulders moving up and down, of course her roommate would be laughing at her misfortune right now. But then she noted how Beca's knees were brought up to her chest once she was stood up straight – this sort of body language could imply Beca was crying, which is absurd, because Beca Mitchell doesn't cry. In fact, Stacie cannot recall a time she has ever seen as much as a tear leave Beca's eye in the entirety of knowing her, and they watched Marley and Me together.

"Beca?"

There was a sniffle and hands brought to her face, before she let out a strained, "what?"

"Why are- Are you ok?" she asked, unsure of how to deal with a potentially upset Beca. If this would have been anyone else, Stacie would have climbed over the sofa, taken a seat beside them and gave them a hug, but Beca was like a spooked animal sometimes. It was best to make no sudden movements and let her come to you, but judging by the lack of a reply, Stacie was at a loss.

She shimmied through the gap at the side of the sofa and made her way to the kitchen without uttering a word. Reaching into the cupboard, she searched for her desired item, before returning back to Beca and carefully sitting down next to her, leaning back against the couch. Stacie rustled the packet of Oreos in her hands, and offered them to Beca.

"Oreo?" she asked cheerfully, looking at the side of Beca's face. A couple of moment passed and she feared this tactic wasn't going to work, until Beca shyly accepted the offer. She was yet to make eye contact, instead staring intently at the cookie being twirled in and out of the gaps in her fingers, much like a poker chip.

Stacie shuffled a little closer, before hesitantly asking "Do you, like, want a hug? I know you're not a fan of-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Beca had dropped the Oreo and wrapped her arms around her, her head nestled into her shoulder.

"Alright then, human contact is a go. We can hug it out" Stacie chuckled, before putting her arms around the smaller woman. They stayed like that for a minute or two, before Beca pulled away and began frantically wiping under her eyes with the hem of her shirt.

"Chloe lied."

That's all she could get out before the tears started stinging her eyes again, but this time instead of trying to stop them, she just let go. She felt the wetness of them roll down her cheeks, as she pulled her knees back into her chest and cried like she had in the alleyway.

XXX

She was just about to yell at Tom for opening the door. Although she wasn't technically indecent, she'd prefer the person on the other side not to see more of her than was necessary. After all it was probably just...

That's when she stopped thinking. Every single thought that was just floating around her head seemed to vanish into thin air and were replaced by the one remaining thought that never seemed to leave her mind recently.

Beca.

For the first split second she was sporting that determined look in her eye. The same one she'd had last night when finally asking the pressing question Chloe was waiting for, but that quickly disappeared. A slight flicker of confusion was wiped away completely and replaced with a deep hurt and sadness. Her eyes strayed from Chloe's and landed on a half naked Tom. That was enough to pull her out of the shock, but as quickly and unexpectedly as she had arrived, Beca was gone.

She sprung into action.

Chloe's legs began moving without her permission and she was instantaneously closing the distance between the kitchen and the door, hoisting the towel higher up her chest in the process. She squeezed through the small gap between Tom and the wall, her eyes trained on the stairwell Beca had just darted for. The redhead placed one foot over the thresh-hold when a hand was firmly placed on her forearm. She could still hear Beca's footsteps on the stairs, they were heavy and hurried, but if she was quick...

It was then the hand was yanking her back and pulling her away from Beca. In one swift motion she was back in the edge of her living room, no longer in ear shot of the brunette's footsteps and almost regained full control of her legs again. Chloe let out a bitter laugh, when she realised it was actually Tom's hand stopping her from chasing Beca.

How fucking ironic.

"Chloe, you can't chase strangers from our apartment wearing just that" he said coldly, gesturing to the pink towel clinging to her frame. She quickly shrugged out of his grip, catching the door that Tom was now pushing closed.

"Who was that?" Tom demanded applying more pressure to the apartment door, eventually slamming it shut. Chloe sighed, if she didn't have the stupid shampoo bottle in her hand right now, she would have managed to keep it ajar.

Her body shot back into action. Tom's persistent questions followed her down the hallway and into the bathroom, before he had a chance to battle this door, she slammed it shut, quickly locking it behind her and pulling off the towel.

Once redressed, she sat on the lid of the toilet with her head in her hands. The events of the last five minutes were finally registering in her mind. The guilt seemed to coarse through her body, making her head pound. The infamous drip of the bathroom tap had returned with a vengeance in the last week, and Chloe tried to concentrate on the familiar drip into the basin in order to stop her from feeling the churning in her stomach. Until a quiet sob passed her lips, the tears collecting in the hands over her face.

Knock. Knock.

"Chloe, what the hell is going on?"

The redhead quickly wiped her face and made her way over to the door. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, whilst her hand stilled on the handle. The instant her vision turned black, the image of Beca's pained expression seemed printed onto the back of her eyelids. The little composure she mustered a second ago quickly crumbled, and her cries quickly developed into low whimpers. She would give anything to have Beca smile that goofy grin and pull her into a hug. Remembering the warmth and security of Beca's embrace didn't help right now, making new tears fall down her cheeks. Her hand seemed to turn the lock on its own accord, and the door was opening. She just needed a Beca hug right now, but instead sank into Tom's embrace, eagerly waiting on the opposite side.

XXX

Beca was now clutching an empty bag of Oreos and leaning into the corner of the sofa, resting her chin on the top of her knees. Her cheeks had dried and the tears had stopped; it seemed psychically impossible to shed anymore. Eventually Beca had moved to sit on the sofa, as Stacie dragged it back to its original spot it in the living room. The taller woman huffed and puffed comically in an attempt to cheer her up, but honestly Beca couldn't bring herself to smile. The past couple of weeks her face had literally ached due to the foreign act of smiling, but right now; nothing.

Both women sat in silence for several moments before Beca could bring herself to speak. When she did, her voice was thick; it croaked and cracked at the beginning and end of sentences. The tone and pitch sounded broken and she hated it. Not only did it make her look weak, but that's exactly how it made her feel.

Weak wasn't something Beca ever wanted to be. Sure, she had feelings just like everyone else, but they never had a voice. They were silent and internal, where only she could register them. This whole situation she had put herself in was nothing like she had ever done before. She was letting Stacie see her vulnerable for the first time, but it didn't feel at all like she expected it to.

Her roommate sat patiently, waiting for Beca to break the silence. The calming circle motions she was rubbing on her knee weren't too overbearing, but most importantly, she didn't push or try to finish Beca's sentences when she paused to compose herself. Once Stacie was filled in, she cried again and then she cried some more, without the feeling of embarrassment she was use to. Despite the crimpling pain in her chest where she was pretty sure her heart had literally shattered inside her; it felt nice – just to let it all out.

"What now?"

That was the first question Stacie had asked about the entire recount of events. Besides the first initial questions of Beca's wellbeing, now a nod wound no longer suffice as an answer. She sniffled and nervously crinkled the empty wrapper tightly gripped in her hand, eyes never meeting Stacie's.

"I guess I go to LA."

XXX