~ Bury it ~
A/N: Since in few days there will be some changes in my routine and I won't be able to update the story once a week as usual, I will post all of the remaining chapters so as not to leave anything hanging.
Thank you guys.
Pov Beca
Okay, guys, let's take a break! We're doing great!
We've been stuck in the recording studio for almost 3 weeks to complete the album. Only in the evening, late at night, do we go back to our homes exclusively to sleep, sometimes not even that, and the next morning we are here again. 3 weeks. And I was hoping that she would text or call me. What an idiot. Once again. I don't know why I still hope for something that will never change. It's really the last to die, but I really wish it was extinct. It would spare me the continuous vain illusion of being able to see her through the door of my studio, or home, or even on the street, at any time, day or night, and perhaps, just by looking at me, she would understand that I am what she wants. You're just dreaming about Beca, not even in the best romantic and honeyed films does it happen. Behave yourself.
Needless to say, I jumped headfirst into work, I practically live here. I'm the only one who has the keys of the studio, besides Joe and Ester, and I'm here more than it was supposed to be. If I've seen my house four times in all this time, it's even too much. Not to mention the nights when I necessarily happened to work as a DJ, at this point I think there's more coffee in my veins than blood. A week ago, or two days ago, I don't have much of a time concept lately, I also went to the hospital for the usual check-up I'm forced to do after the operation. It seems that everything is okay, but they still wanted to perform the blood tests and they want me to have a CT scan to prevent any other kind of problem. What a pain in the ass. Just because they've seen me particularly tired. I'd like to see that. Not that I make a life exactly quiet. However, after all that has happened, any sign of discomfort, even the most insignificant, can turn out to be an alarm bell. So I have to do it. I cannot protest. Mainly because I have that Shepherd hawk that controls me, and who always stays well informed on my condition, although she is divided between LA and Seattle.
I've bonded a lot more with the guys than I've done recently. They are good friends, and they believe a lot in our work, in our group. I think there is nothing better than working and spending almost all your day with people who motivate you, who believe in you and who you learn to know and accept even in their most absurd oddities. Like Dustin and his craze with sticks. He has to rub them with a rag for at least 5 minutes before he starts playing. And you're in trouble if you stop it. It's a ritual. Or Alex who snaps her left index finger and always has chewing gum between her teeth, making bubbles at the wrong time. Like when she forget her microphone is on and we're recording. We'd like to strangle her sometimes, but I think she's already at risk with her chewingum. I thought I was interested in her, not just in a friendly sense, but I was wrong. And I think she has really understood my situation. Maybe it's for the best, it would just have made things more messy.
Joe, can we have some fun?
I turn to Tom who throws a cunning glance at Joe, who seems to have a question mark instead of a face. A bit like everyone else, except those three pesky boys.
Well, it seemed to me like you were already having fun. Anyway, go ahead, it's your break after all.
Joe adds smiling and coming out of the recording booth to settle beyond the glass that separates it from the rest of the studio. I notice how on the couch there are Ester and Blake talking excitedly about a new gossip affair among Hollywood celebrities. What a great depth. But I'm sure it's Blake who pulled out this debate, and Ester is too good to back her off.
In all of this, I still don't understand what Tom is going to do, so I quickly look at the last scores that Joe and I produced, so I can keep the sequence in mind and avoid making mistakes during the last recordings. The album is due to be ready in a few days, and we're all in ferment. We can't afford mistakes.
In the background I hear the first notes of a song that is very different from the ones we usually sing, but that conveys pure adrenaline. I smile, - because come on, how can you ignore a song like that?! - without distracting attention from my sheets. Now I understand what he meant about 'having fun'.
C'mon Becs, I know you want to sing!
I lift my eyes and slowly turn towards them, giving my back to the glass of the cabin, grabbing the pole with the microphone. The smile does not leave my lips and I notice how Sam and Alex started to snap their fingers to boost the rhythm, joining the guys. I'm not really thinking about it, it's as if my body reacted to the melody on its own. I take a deep breath and let myself be carried away. That's what I need right now.
I think I'm drowning
Asphyxiated
I want to break the spell
That you've created
My voice comes out strangely dark, low, husky, not my usual voice. I didn't even think to reach such low notes. But I don't care. I don't think about it now. I close my eyes and what I can see is just her. Who enchanted me, or cursed me. It depends on the points of view.
You're something beautiful
A contradiction
I want to play the game
I want the friction
I never thought about how well these verses fit in with me and her. To us. It happens almost at the right time. Awesome, the timing is making unimaginable jokes with me lately.
You will be
The death of me
Yeah, you will be
The death of me
I carry a hand automatically in my hair, sliding it between them. It sounds extreme, but it's actually a little extreme. It was when we broke up, it is now that it has denied me again. She'll never stop making me feel that way.
Bury it
I won't let you bury it
I won't let you smother it
I won't let you murder it
It's probably what she wants, maybe it would make her much more comfortable, but how do I suppress everything I have inside? I've been doing this for a long time, now all that's left is to leave the wound open, in the air. Bleeding. Sooner or later it will dry out and the crust will form on its own. But I won't let it take that away too.
Our time is running out
And our time is running out
You can't push it underground
We can't stop it screaming out
I hear the music fill the void with words, before moving on to the next part. I open my eyes and notice how everyone is looking at me with amazement, almost with their jaws on the floor. Alex throws a wink at me while she continues to play the music, while Joe and Ester seem to be caught up in a sudden frenzy of looking for headphones to hear better what's going on in the cabin. I could say almost power, lightning, electricity. Because that's what I feel on my skin. Not to mention Blake and Fat Amy - what's she doing here and when she got here? - who seem like two avid fans at their first concert. With a mobile phone to record. Absurd.
Someone likes it, isn't it Beca?
You're an asshole Tom!
We joke loudly since the volume of the instruments is very high. He's a real idiot that guy, but he knows how to lift the situation making it a little more exciting. Like now. Maybe he understood that I needed to let off steam, and he came up with this song. Perfect, I'd say. I turn my back on the kids and stare at a point in front of me, but I don't look at anyone in particular.
You will suck the life out of me
If she was here, I'd look at her and make her understand what she's doing to me. I carry one hand on my chest as if I wanted to cling to myself, as if it were worth my life, while with the other, I keep holding the microphone.
Bury it
I won't let you bury it
I won't let you smother it
I won't let you murder it
The blows on the drums echo in my ribcage, in my veins, in any cell in my body. It makes me feel alive, free. I could move a mountain as I feel now.
Our time is running out
And our time is running out
You can't push it underground
We can't stop it screaming out
How did it come to this?
As the last notes of the song play in the recording room, my hands automatically take their place at the sides of my body, almost as if to demonstrate a sort of defeat, a resignation. If just a moment ago I felt the adrenaline mixing with my blood, I felt invincible, now there is only room for emptiness. Nothing, again. The knuckles of my hands become even whiter than they normally are, in a fury of clenching my fists. I don't notice the whistles, the applause, and the revelry of others. Not immediately at least. My mind is just focused on two pieces of sky, and hair as blond as wheat. Maybe I shouldn't have told her that I love her, it made it even more real. And unfortunately, reality is not always what is expected. Or it was probably my mistake of judging and I should have expected it.
That doesn't change things anyway.
Beca! Wow!
You guys were great! Beca, whenever we think we've recorded your entire vocal range, you always do something new! You're amazing!
I'm dazed by my thoughts from Joe and Ester who swooped into the cabin to congratulate us. A spontaneous smile forms on my face and I turn to the guys who have all printed face the pure enthusiasm. They are just children.
You're too nice guys, they're the ones who did it all! I only followed them!
I answer pointing to the rest of the band behind me as I see Blake and Amy approaching us with their eyes glued on their smartphones.
Your fans have literally gone crazy, Shawshank! I made a live on Instagram and you can only imagine what's going on here.
I frown on my eyebrows because I thought she was just making a video, not a Live one. Damn her!
Amy, what the hell? It's rehearsal, it can't be broadcast live! What does the brain tell you?
I get closer by taking her cell phone from her hands to see what she's done.
Wow, calm down, tiger! Someone is nervous! For the record, it wasn't the rehearsal, it's the break, so it seems to me that everything is pretty fair, isn't that right, giraffe?
She answers me with a mocking smile on her lips while my eyes almost want to strike her. If they only find out about it on the upper floors, I'm fucked.
Fat Amy is right! She hasn't done anything wrong. You seem to be not very active on social networks and when such an event happens the delirium explodes. You've got to hire a press secretary! Your fans are cheering you on!
Blake! Don't give her any credit! If John and the others see that-
I'm interrupted by the look of my manager who suddenly became impassive. The typical glances of when someone just said something they shouldn't even have thought. I shouldn't be surprised anymore, practically always looks at me like that.
Are you serious? How do so many worries fit into such a small body? Really, relax! John won't say anything, it's a video in which you sing, which by the way is what he pays you for, so a little advertising doesn't hurt.
Yes but-
Uh-huh, nothing but. It's not even a song on the album, so, sleep quiet dreams baby.
I look down again at Amy's phone to see how many messages are coming, how many posts they've created on this live broadcast in less than 5 minutes. I have incredible fans, maybe Blake is right. I should be a little more active and answer someone every now and then. In the end without them I wouldn't be anything. Just a girl like many who likes to mix. I've been neglecting a lot of things lately. So do they. And they don't deserve it.
I take a deep breath and wearyly give back the phone to Amy, under her almost worried gaze. I pass them by and head to the sofas of the studio to be able to recover my belongings and go. The others are still busy talking to Joe and Ester, maybe about this last 'performance', if that's what it can be called, probably to improve the harmony of the sound. I know the rehearsals aren't over, that we're on break, that I have an album to finish in a few days, but now I need to get some air. I have too many things on my mind.
Hey Joe, do you mind if I go for a while?
I get closer to the sound modulation plane so I can push the speaker button and let the producer hear me.
Everything okay Beca? We should be recording in a bit.
Yeah, it's okay. I just need some air. If you want to start with the bases, I'll catch up with you later.
I notice how Ester gave me the thumb sign up and wink, indicating that I could leave, without any problems, although Joe seems a little hesitant. That's okay, I'll make up for it tonight. That's how it works now. I turn my back on the recording booth, retrieve my sunglasses from my bag and head out. I just hope neither Blake nor Fat Amy will chase me to ask me what's wrong, what's going on and all the questions they usually ask when I leave a place without giving much explanation. Sometimes I like to know that there is someone who cares about me, but other times I just wish I could leave without being annoyed by anyone. And 95% of the time is the second option. I am the prototype of antisociality made in person. How did it occur to me to do such a job? I must have hit my head hard in the orphanage, something is definitely wrong.
Fortunately I reach the ground floor without any problems, and then I leave the building to go and get the car from the parking lot behind. There is no place in particular where I have to go or want to go. But since I am here, I think I should go home. Just to make sure everything's all right. Maybe eat something, if there's edible food in the fridge. Damn it. How long has it been since I've been grocery shopping? It will be weeks, not that I eat a meal worthy of being called it every day. Quite the contrary. Lately it's just taken away. It doesn't matter, I don't think I'll ever spend a decent lunch or dinner at home with someone, in my near future, so. I'm used to it now. Having an empty fridge should be the least of my worries. Yet it's not exactly like that. I always thought that in a house, having the fridge always full, means that there is someone to take care of, someone to share the most important moments of a day. I've never tried this before. I don't know what it's like to have someone who takes care of you, who prepares you a dinner, or breakfast. I just had a taste when I lived in New York, with Amy and her, but it didn't last long. Maybe I'm supposed to be on my own forever, after all, what about an orphan girl? I may be or become the most famous person in the world, but I don't think there will ever be anyone waiting for me at home in the evening. Or rather, I don't think there will be the person that I want and that I would have liked to consider my family. That's a nice word. I wonder if I'll ever get my own. Maybe I won't admit it out loud, but that's my biggest wish. Or maybe a need. Is there a difference? Sometimes it does. But in my case, I would say no. I don't even know whether to keep fighting for what I want. Should I? And what would the result be? I've had proof that it's not me she wants. I just have to try to resize my feelings for her. I don't have the faintest idea where to start, but I think it's the only solution. I could move to another city, across the country or to Europe. That would be great.
Meh.
As if the first time it served any purpose. The positive side is my job, I'm going on tour for almost a year, so I'll have time to relax my mind. Yes, work Beca. Focus on that and it will all go away. Maybe I should be a little more convinced when I think about certain things. Details.
Finally I reach the parking lot and pick up the car keys from the bag with some difficulty. I start the engine and head home automatically. After two years the road could be done even with my eyes closed. But better to avoid it. There is an unbelievable traffic, as always, maybe I would have done before to go on foot. It's absurd how people spend almost 75% of the day in the car, in a column, waiting for a miracle so that the cars in front of you open up like Moses and the Red Sea. Or like Jim Carrey in Bruce Almighty. That would be great. Hey You, who are up there, maybe you could do a replica and help me? I'm starving. Maybe I should take a detour and buy something. At home there will only be dust waiting for me. Or once there I could order at home, yes I think I'll do that, I don't want to waste twice as much time, which by the way never seems to pass. I think it's at least 10 minutes that I'm always standing at the same point and not advancing. It's exhausting. Involuntarily I turn my eyes to the window to look around me and the person in the car next to me seems to recognize me. God, that's not all I needed.
Oh, my God, it's Beca. You're Beca Mitchell. I can't believe it!
I can hear her muffled voice since my window is closed, but as if it were an automatic thing, I plaster a nice smile of circumstance, because you know, you can't disappoint the fans, although the situation I'm in now is blowing my nerves. With all possible spontaneity I greet the girl with my hand, giving her a nod but it seems not to give up. She keeps on talking in the car and I'm almost forced to lower the window to understand what she's saying. Since we're here, at least I'm spending time chatting. My God, it must be hunger, I never thought I'd say these words.
Hey... Hi girl!
Oh Jesus, Beca is talking to me, Mooom! Beca is talking to me!
I notice how the girl is wriggling with enthusiasm and the mother who is driving can't help but hold back the spontaneous smile that curls her lips seeing her daughter so happy. I laugh because I never imagined meeting a fan in such circumstances, and probably not even the girl here expected it.
Hi! I'm a huuge fan of yours! I am looking forward to listen to your album! And see you on tour. You are sooooo awesome!
Oh you're really kind. Thank you... Um, what's your name?
Lily!
Oh, cute. Thank you Lily. You made my day! I hope you to enjoy my work.
I extend my hand so that I can touch her one against the edge of the car window. Yes, we are really close with cars, the traffic jam is absurd. However, it is an automatic gesture, the one typical of when you want to express gratitude. It almost seems to shock her, and I refrain from laughing at her expression. She's really so funny, probably someone would describe her even tender. Surely I would have the same reaction as her if I will ever be touched or looked by mistake by Beyoncé. I could pass out instantly. I feel her hand squeezing mine tightly and looking at me with supplicating eyes. Differently enough, I would have already interrupted this physical contact from what can be expected of me in other circumstances, but this little girl seems to really love me. Yet she doesn't know me at all. Strange thing idols. You get attached to someone knowing absolutely nothing. It's almost unconditional. There's something that snaps and puff, you love it. It makes me think that I really have to arrange a meeting with the fans, the closest ones at least. Who knows how many others like her would like to be simply hugged by me, or greeted. And I really want to repay them for their affection.
I.. Um... I would really like to take a picture with you right now! Damn it.
Oh sure, give me your phone. I'll do it.
Really? How?
I can hear hope in her words. It's an unthinkable situation to take a picture. But while we're here, why not try it. If the cars start to move, they'll wait. An extra min doesn't make a difference.
Ah just give me your phone.
She stretches me her phone after finding it from her backpack and automatically opens the internal camera to take the picture. I slightly protrude my head to be able to see me in the frame while she fronts onto the window to be able to get as close as possible. I shoot at least 5 of photos repeatedly, changing expression in at least two of them.
Okay girl! Surely they will be awesome. Here's your phone.
Omg, thank you thank you thank you! It's the best day of my life.
I notice how the cars are starting to move. It's time to say goodbye to Lily. What a beautiful name.
No I have to thank you. I hope to see you soon! Gotta go. Bye bye little red!
Slowly I start to advance with the car, greeting with one hand the little girl. Red-haired. Not intense, but not even off. Almost tending towards blond. Dark eyes, and freckles. She has the face of a girl named Lily.
Byeeeee! I love youuu!
I hear her voice getting farther and farther as I increase speed. On the one hand it was time for us to move, I was melting in my car under the sun, but on the other hand I wanted to keep talking to the girl. I have to call Blake to arrange something, she's in charge of these things, I pay her for it. Maybe later, when I have enough sugar in my brain to be able to formulate a meaningful sentence.
It takes about 20 minutes and I finally get to the driveway to park my car. It is time that my prayers, about the hope of finding anything edible in the kitchen, begin to raise. Please make sure there is something. Please. I enter the house and once the bag is literally thrown on the couch, I head to the kitchen to see if I'm actually going to eat from here in 3 seconds or I'll have to wait an eternity before a delivery comes to bring me the food.
Roll of drums.
…
Yay!
Spaghetti and tomato sauce. I didn't remember at all to have things like that stored in the pantry - ah yes, I wanted to impress Alex by preparing one of the typical Italian dishes. Stupid idea by the way, she is Italian, how could I have impressed her by cooking something typical of her country better than she has ever experienced in her life? What an idiocy Beca. Now the point is to understand only how to cook pasta. I think I need water. What about the sauce? Do I have to cook that too?
YouTube. I need a tutorial. It's my only salvation right now. God, what a shame.
After finding a video that seems more or less reliable, I look for all the material I need, two pans. So far I've got it. It won't be so terrible, I can do it. One filled with water, more or less to the brim, done. In the other one I have to put some oil, and a clove of garlic. Garlic? Really? If Mr YouTube says so, I trust him.
"Let it brown for a few minutes and then pour in the sauce and cook until it boils..."
To your orders, boss! What a day today, I never imagined that I would find myself cooking pasta and sauce. I just hope it comes up decent. Or at most edible. I don't want a Michelin starred dish. Okay, focus Becs, you're missing the passages.
Only after a quarter of an hour do I finally manage to make my wonderful spaghetti with tomato sauce, basil leaf and lots of cheese. I have no idea how long ago it was, but I checked and it hasn't expired yet so it seems like my lucky day. I turn on the TV just to have some company and not feel the deafening silence of my house, interrupted only by the noise of the cutlery against the plate. In the meantime I check several e-mails received in recent days to which I have not had the opportunity to reply, including the one in which is attached the poster of my tour. First stop Los Angeles, of course, the day after San Francisco. I will also arrive in New York, it will be difficult to go back there, but I will have to do it sooner or later. I will try to make new memories, to be able to replace the old ones, not very beautiful. Now that I think about it, I should try to create a meeting with the fans there too. Maybe before the concert, or afterwards. Or maybe I could surprise them by going a day earlier and making a last-minute announcement. I need Blake. I start the call immediately and wait for her to answer me. In the meantime I finish this delicious dish. I should try to cook more often, since the results.
Tell me Hobbit!
You know I could fire you, right? You should show more respect for the payer.
Tell me your royal highness, how can I help you gladden your day?
I almost choke on a mouthful, laughing at what she has just said, especially at the face with which I think she said this sentence. She's so odd.
Um... You're dork. Anyway I called you because I wanted to talk to you about something and see if it could be done or not.
Oh, okay. Tell me everything, should I worry?
I can see from her tone of voice how her attention is now all turned towards me. No matter what she's doing, when I call her for work she's always on the alert.
No, no, nothing to worry about. I thought it would be nice to have the opportunity to meet the fans before the concerts on tour, maybe surprise them, I don't know, arrive a day earlier for each date and have a meeting. I've been wanting to meet them for a long time but I've never had the right way or the time to do it. What do you think?
Wow, that's a great thing to do. However, you're going to need more funding to get you all flying a day earlier in each city on the tour, the flights have already been paid for the others, I don't know if-
Hey hey, slow down. Can we at least try? See if you can do it, I really want Blake, I wouldn't even have suggested it if it wasn't important.
I look down and pull my lower lip slightly, waiting for the blonde to answer me. I don't know if her silence is a good sign or not, if she's stalling so as not to immediately and drastically decline my idea, or because she's really thinking about it. In the meantime I hear the bell ringing, which is strange, because I was not waiting for anyone at this time of the afternoon. Who the hell is it?
Beca I don't know-
Wait wait. Just a minute.
I approach the door, looking through the peephole to see who has come to bother me. Everyone I would have imagined, but not this person. What does she want now?
Blake, I have to leave you. I have visitors. Promise me you'll take care of it?
I'll make the possible Bec. I'll talk to you later, call me if you need me. Bye.
I close the call and open the door while still holding the phone with my other hand. That's a surprise.
Well, I have to admit. Not even in my wildest fantasy would I have thought I'd find you on the porch of my house.
Hi Beca, can I come in?
What's wrong with her? It seems almost harmless. What happened to her? Doesn't she spit fire out of her mouth anymore?
Of course, come in.
I do my best to make her pass by, I don't understand why she's here. It's strange to me that she also knows where I live. I thought she considered me to be equal to nothing. Or at least that's what she said.
Sorry for the intrusion, did I interrupt your lunch?
I notice how she fleetingly looked at the kitchen counter, where I actually eat lunch, dinner, breakfast, everything, despite having a more than decent table on which to eat like normal people. But these are details.
Don't worry, I had finished it anyway. Do you want something to drink? Unfortunately, I only have that to offer.
No thanks, I'm fine, I just..Uhm. Why do you do that, Beca? Why are you kind to me even though I've always put a spanner in the works?
I stop to observe her for a moment and a tired smile, which looks more like a grimace, appears on my face. What does she want from me? What's her point?
I wish I could tell you that my parents educated me like that, but unfortunately I can't, because I never had any.
I... Beca, I didn't-
You didn't know, yes. Nobody knows, except Amy. I thought Chloe knew it too, but obviously she doesn't. Isn't that right, Aubrey?
She looks down and fixes her gaze steady on her hands that seem to be holding the handles of her bag tighter and tighter, as if it were worth her life.
Why are you here? To what do I owe the honor?
My tone of voice is low, still, she can't say or do anything that doesn't make me touch the bottom more than I did in my life. I have nothing to lose now. Might as well stay calm and try to figure out what she wants from me. God Mitchell, since when did you become so wise? I'm afraid of myself.
Well. I'm about to leave and several weeks ago I had an argument with Chloe... About the letter you gave me in New York.
So what? We both know that the letter never reached its destination, otherwise I wouldn't live just by inertia and you wouldn't be here.
I see her nodding slowly, it's one of the very few times she nods to something I say. I could get excited. But I still don't understand what the point of this whole situation is. Would she like to apologize? Does she want to argue? I don't think so, she's being too submissive. Does she want me to pour all my frustration and accumulated anger on her? This could be an idea.
Beca I.. I'm sorry for what I did. I know I haven't been fair to you, and to Chloe. I am so sorry. But at that moment I was blinded by the pain I felt seeing my best friend devastated because of you and..I acted impulsively. I'm sorry.
Wow.
I stand still and stare at her with a shocked air. Did I really hear right? What the hell is going on here?
Yes, I know. 'wow'. I can swear I've never been in a more difficult situation than this, but I'm about to leave and I didn't want to keep anything "hanging".
Where are you going to go?
I never really cared much about her life decisions, or what she did in her spare time since it was unsustainable at the time, but now I'm genuinely interested in what will happen to her. I could almost get along with this new version of Aubrey 2.0.
I'm going back to New York for a while, at least. The studio I work for required my presence there and since I don't have anybody here anymore, I go home.
She responds with a melancholic, almost sad smile. I can see that she doesn't want to go, but that she doesn't even have a reason to stay. Just like me, more than 2 years ago.
Does Chloe know?
Not yet, I'll go and tell her as soon as I get out of here. That is, if she wants to listen to me.
I take a deep breath and get a little closer to her who, once again, has a bowed head. She really feels guilty, I can't blame her. If I had been in another situation I would have thrown her against the pasta dish dirty with sauce and I would have told her not to be seen again, for all that she has done. But I can't blame her too much, the mess was created only because of me. Not her.
Aubrey, perhaps I should have imagined that you would never have had that letter delivered to Chloe, but part of me wanted to try it anyway. I was desperate. But what happened is not, and will never be your fault.
Yes, but I've gotten worse-
Maybe yes, maybe no. Maybe that's just how it was supposed to be. Think about it, Chloe is happy now, she's getting married to someone who has never hurt her and who loves her. She wouldn't have any of this if it weren't for you and that letter she didn't have. Maybe it was for the best.
I tell her by placing her hand on her shoulder and then crossing it and heading towards the kitchen to be able to wash the dishes. Yes, I have a dishwasher but I like to make dishes by hand. At least when I'm nervous, it relaxes me.
Beca?
Yes Posen?
Do you still love her?
Shit. My glass slipped in the sink and now it's in a thousand pieces. I even cut my palm off. Damn it.
Hey you all righ-? Oh, fuck.
It's nothing I just need a cloth...
Nothing? You're losing a lot of blood Beca! Do you want me to take you to the hospital?
No! No hospitals! It would cause a stir on the media. It's a little cut, I just have to wait for it to stop bleeding. Then I'll bandage it.
She hands me a clean, dry cloth from one of the drawers under the sink. I just hope it stops bleeding right away, otherwise I'll have to put the stitches on, and I'd really like to avoid it.
There is an almost surreal silence. It's as if the question of a few moments ago echoed between the walls without giving me a break.
Yes, I do.
Then don't give up.
I let slip a brief, sarcastic laugh, as if to underline the absurdity of her words.
There is not even the slightest hope that she can choose me Aubrey, she would have already done so. I've already given up. And frankly, I no longer have the strength to fight.
I know you're exhausted, Beca... But I also know that Chicago is not the man she loves. Not as much as you. She just has to admit it to herself.
I lift my eyes from my hand to meet her look, she seems sincere and for once she seems to be on my side. Should I believe her?
Instinctively I shake my head from right to left, denying almost everything that Aubrey has just said. It seems impossible. That can't be the reality of the situation.
I'm sure it's not easy, and that trying it again means still running the risk of finding yourself with your heart in a thousand pieces. I'm just telling you to think about it. The choice is up to you. But make it the right one, for both of you.
She approaches me and with one hand still my head so she can kiss me on the hair. What. It. Is. happening. I could bark at her in a nanosecond even just for approaching so close to me, but I'd just be false. I can't deny that right now the closeness of someone is the only thing I need. And strangely enough, that someone happened to be her. I've never seen this 'maternal' side of her, I dare say. Shocking, but pleasant. I just wish she had been like that to me from the start. We would have had a good friendship.
I see her heading towards the front door to leave, retrieving her bag from the couch. The blood stopped, fortunately, so she won't have to take me to the hospital. Very good.
Aubrey?
Yes?
Thank you. And for what it's worth, everything will be fine. Chloe is really lucky to have a friend like you.
I see her smiling spontaneously, a sincere smile, sweeping away a few wrinkles of sadness from her face. She needed it, I imagine she spent the last few weeks blaming herself for this whole thing.
Go and get her back, Mitchell. See ya.
She winks at me as she leaves and closes the door behind her.
What the hell should I do now?
