AN: Breezeblocks by Alt-J was the main inspiration for this chapter.

Chapter Nine: Breezeblocks

The only thing separating the celestial from the condemned is the weight of the world. May Atlas give strength to carry our worlds on our backs and shoulders, to be resilient in the curses of living. But the time has come to watch our Gods fall. The time has come for our burdens to fall on Their shoulders. The time has come to feel paradise.

A ringing phone punctured the silence. Beca and Chloe sat up, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, and looked for the source. Beca felt a sense of relief knowing it wasn't her phone, however, her curiosity peaked for who could possibly be calling Chloe this late. Chloe looked at the screen and released one of the heaviest sighs Beca has heard.

"Do you need to take that?" Beca asked quietly. She's not stupid; a late phone call and a sigh like that meant it was unpleasant. She just didn't know to what extent.

"Yeah," Chloe replies just as quiet. "It's my brother again."

"I can go upstairs-"

"No, no, it's okay," a tired hand combed through strands of matted hair from where she slept on Beca's shoulder. "I'll just step out on the porch. It shouldn't be long."

Beca nodded her head and offered a small smile; it wasn't much- then again, she couldn't really do much- but she hoped it offered a little relief for the kind-eyed redhead. Putting the phone to her ear, Chloe quietly slipped out onto the balcony. Beca averted her eyes from viewing through the glass. Even though she can't hear the conversation, she still wants to give Chloe as much privacy as she can. But curiosity got the better of Beca. Chloe's back was to her, still in her scrubs, still barefoot. Her posture was hunched and tense as her elbows rested on the railing. A few quiet minutes pass before that calm rippled into something larger than Beca could have predicted.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I am not a fucking ATM for you to ruin your life. This was old two months ago. You need fucking help." Her voice was louder than Beca would have ever expected. Her back was so straight and taught that she could practically see her muscles twitching in rage. Her profile shifted ever so to the left allowing the concerned brunette a glimpse of her face. Her eyes were such a clear blue, but the emotion gave them an electric quality; her lips were parted as she panted like the burst of anger had stolen her oxygen. Shaped eyebrows were furrowed so deeply it looked sculpted in marble. The softness that dominated every aspect that Beca believed to exist vanished. It's not that she had unrealistic expectations, she knew nobody was bulletproof, but seeing all traces of that vanish was alarming to her. She shouldn't be this upset. At all.

"Tom, when you kill yourself, I won't be surprised. I already mourned your death." This phrase wasn't as loud as before, but you heard it with distinct clarity with every word sharpened. She took the phone from her ear, hung up, and turned to see Beca. She froze in place as she met Beca's steady gaze. Her face was expressionless as she studied her paralyzed body. Clearing her throat uncomfortably, Chloe slowly moved to open the doors and come back inside. Her body was uncomfortably tense, and her neck felt strained. With a slow, deep breath, she joined Beca on the couch.

"How much did you hear?" She was quiet.

"Nothing if you don't want me to." Chloe smiled and chuckled a bit.

"Just family drama."

Beca nodded and turned to face the TV. It was deeper than that, but if Chloe didn't want to go into specifics, she wouldn't ask. But she knew something she could ask.

"Are you okay?" Beca celebrated internally when it came out even and calm. Chloe looked up at her, the DJ noting that some of the ice had melted. The redhead offered a tired smile in return.

"Mostly just frustrated," she said honestly which surprised her. "But I'll be okay. Thank you."

Beca nodded before deciding to speak again. "You were there with me last night, so I should be here for you tonight. Quid pro quo," she winked and nudged her shoulder. The normalcy after a moment like that is something Beca craved when it happened to her. She hoped that it would dull the anger flowing through her veins. Chloe rolled her eyes and Beca felt a little better that she wouldn't snap in half. "It's getting late, are you okay to drive home? Not that you need to leave right now," she quickly corrected. "But just in case. I know you work."

"Wow, are you actually being nice to me?" She held her palm on her cheek in disbelief. Beca rolled her eyes but didn't respond. "I think I should get out of your hair."

"Don't feel pressured to leave if you aren't feeling up to it. You can stay and relax if you need to." Beca was wondering where all this honesty was coming from. Not honesty, unfiltered.

"Are we suddenly besties, now? I knew we were going to be fast friends."

"I mean, you've been in my bed…so…"

Chloe swatted her arm and settled back into the couch. "I really appreciate you, Bec. You're a good person."

That brought a blush to Beca's cheeks and she averted her eyes. She gets complimented all the time-being famous and all- but rarely do any feel genuine. Chloe, in her glory, believed in honesty. So Beca knew she wasn't bullshitting. Which was as alarming as her thoughts from earlier. "I mean, you've shown me nothing but irritating kindness. The least I can do is offer less irritating niceness, even if you suddenly infected my life." That seemed distant enough while being nice. That was good. Distance was good.

"You know what I need, right now?" Beca hummed in response. "A drink." Chloe then got up and proceeded to grab a glass and the bottle of Grey Goose to the living room. Beca knew how therapeutic it could be sometimes, so she didn't question it. Chloe poured a shot, drank it, poured another, then topped off Beca's glass. "Never drink alone."

"Well, now you made me feel like shit for drinking alone."

"Fine, just invite me over then."

Beca twitched then downed the rest of her drink to forget that statement. This isn't going to be a regular thing, was it? Chloe's fascination with Beca was extremely puzzling and extremely frustrating. She grabbed the bottle, poured another, then did the same to Chloe's now empty glass. Chloe nodded in thanks and lifted the glass in front of her.

"Here's to drinking for no other reason than to drink!" She then clinked Beca's glass and slid the vodka past her lips. She barely grimaced and that bought the DJ's respect. She tipped her glass in acknowledgment before doing the same. The tv was still on and they continued this routine of sharing between them for a few minutes. After an episode, the alcohol was starting to hit them.

"Hey Becs?" Chloe leaned toward her on the couch. She didn't wait long for Beca to respond before she answered her own question. "So, like, you and Anastasia are a thing,"

"Was a thing."

"You and Anastasia were a thing," she corrected. "Are you fully gay or do you swing both ways? Oh my god that was so invasive ignore me I can't believe I just- "

"I don't like labels. I like who I like," she responded with a crooked smile. Chloe looked relieved that she wasn't upset and Beca saw her shoulders lose tension. Her cheeks were flushed from the many drinks they had consumed, and her eyes were glassy, pools of sapphires behind the slightest shimmer of inhibition. "If you get to know about me, I get to know about you. You like pussy?" Chloe choked on her drink and her face became redder.

"I mean I-" The redhead sputtered but was desperately grabbing for a recovery. "I guess I am the same way. I've had boyfriends and a few girlfriends. They never lasted that long though."

"Why's that? Probably because you steal people's phones in their sleep and steal private information. But that's just a hunch." Chloe slapped her shoulder and tried not to laugh. Beca looked at her, actually looked, and processed her features: the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, the way her lips looked better pulled back, how her nostrils would flare trying to hold back laughter. The blood rushing into her expression made her more vibrant, more alive. She may be drunk, but she knows the difference between real beauty and store bought.

"Hello?"

Beca blinked and was brought back to sitting on the couch, watching tv, and sharing a drink with a stranger. Present in the moment, focus regained. "What's up?"

Chloe just tilted her head curiously. "You were staring."

"No I wasn't."

"Yes, you were."

"You're drunk."

"And you're full of shit."

Beca huffed. Chloe continued to stare.

"See something you like?" Chloe flirted and blinked behind lashes in exaggerated interest. "You know, I'm pretty confident about all of this."

"I can tell," Beca drawled. Chloe laughed and poured Beca another shot.

Chloe's face was flushed; she felt a welcome warmth in her arms and legs that tingled until her skin was covered in bumps. Beca had been staring at her. That's fine. It's totally fine. Maybe she had something on her face? Oh no, what if her mascara was smeared? Jesus, when did that matter? Whatever. She was drunk. When did she get so close to Beca's face? Oh my god, I can see her freckles! Oh god, I can see her freckles.

"Are you feeling okay?" Beca asks, drifting centimeters to separate their personal space. They shared the same breath. Chloe nodded, her eyes drifting shut. Her breath was the faintest wind onto Beca's skin. Through the puff of air, the brunette closed her eyes. She couldn't feel more than the pulsing of her heart. Her eyes slowly open, the focus of her eyes unclear until a moment after. "Chloe?" Beca asked, pulling away with furrowed brows. Steel interrupted glazed lazulines. "Chloe?" Beca whispered. Chloe ignored it, feeling each puff of air from the DJ infecting her lungs. This felt too beautiful, too enjoyable. Intoxicating. The seconds ticked by while her lips drifted closer. "Chloe," the DJ breathed.

Lean back. Lean. Back. LEAN. BACK.

Beca couldn't think. She had been drinking. Obviously. But why did she stay connected to Chloe's lungs like it was their only chance of filling? Why couldn't she break these unpredicted shackles? Gravity. That had to be the reason. There was no other option as far as she was concerned. Yes. That was logical.

"Beca?" Chloe breathed, her voice barely teasing her ears.

"What are you doing?"

"I see something I like." The vodka painting her lips seemed to be the roughest part of Chloe. It permeated the space between them, but Beca knew she wasn't much better. They were drunk. You could smell it. It was the perfect ruse. She could hide behind this; no one had to know. No one had to know how badly you wanted to reach out and tangle your hands in her hair. No one had to know how badly you wanted to feel how soft her skin was. No one had to know she needed to taste how the alcohol pierced her breath. No one will know. Dark blue eyes lined with black peered under thick lashes to see Chloe's eyes had drifted closed and her hand had snuck onto Beca's knee. Breathe. A thick wall of tension nipped at the skin of the brunette as she remained frozen. Vodka was now thrumming through her veins; she couldn't claim sobriety anymore. Fire was rushing into her blood and her mind succumbed to its power. Her lips collided into Chloe's with more force than she was expecting, the redheads mouth parting in surprise. Their breaths had melted into one another the minute they touched. Pale hands found their way to Chloe's shoulders, one finding purchase cupping her jaw. As greedy as she was, she refused to grip her as hard as she wanted. Not to Chloe.

But Chloe pushed back, and she pushed back hard.

The redhead placed her palms onto Beca's chest and shoved her down onto the couch. Brown waves cascaded over the fabric and crowned a flushed DJ sporting swollen lips. Her chest was pulling oxygen like she had never breathed before. Chloe smirked down, loving the idea that her kiss created a panting woman underneath her. She was sinking in the satisfaction of knowing Beca enjoyed it just as much as she did. God, that felt good. She wanted-no, needed- more. So, she was going to get it. Her legs moved to straddle the small woman as her body descended slowly to tip her head. She felt small puffs of hair hit her lips and she teased them with small dips. Beca's eyes opened and she saw a wildfire that she had never seen in the time she's spent. Liquid silver danced in her irises and fixed themselves onto Chloe's. The stare searched deep within her and Chloe felt exposed, not only her body, but her soul. She doubted Beca was aware of the power lurking in her expression, and if she was, then she was hiding it incredibly well. The redhead reveled in its intensity and couldn't fathom experiencing it if she got the chance. She would flip that coin until it happened. Until then, the string tugging their lips together became stronger and she found herself engaged in a battle she didn't intend on losing. Trying to separate the sensations was almost impossible. Teeth caught lips, tongues danced in the fading flames of vodka, and Chloe only pulled away to breathe when she saw stars dotting her vision. This taste, this feeling, was the most addictive substance she had ever touched. She finally knew how crippling that craving is. It flooded her mind and every sense she had left. She needed Beca so bad it hurt. "Fuck," she sighed and pulled away.

"I don't, I- I can't think- If don't know what to sa- "

"So don't say anything." Beca looked like she wanted to protest but swallowed any attempt. Chloe grabbed her hair and pulled before she could try again. Beca immediately molded against her lips and she closed her eyes when the DJ's hands began to travel the front of her shirt. She rubbed the smallest circles onto your skin, and you felt a jolt from her teasing. Beca tipped her lips away to shakily exhale in anticipation. Chloe opens her eyes and feels Beca staring before she saw it. "Unless you're not enjoying it," she pouts, purses her lips, and sits back on her legs instead of hovering over the brunette. Beca's eyes bore into your teasing face; for the first time, Chloe understood she was playing with a live wire. She had no clue how close she could get without frying.

"Look at me." Chloe obeyed; her eyes locked onto hers. "Answer me honestly."

"Of course," she breathed. The brunette was still staring into her.

"If this is about my status, in any capacity, then walk out that door and delete my number, or face legal action."

Chloe's eyebrows lowered into a scowl. "You really think I'm here to play some game?" Her voice lost the teasing lilt. While she may be unhappy, her voice sounded softer than her phone call, however, her voice was painted in tender strokes. Scowling eyebrows with twinkling eyes, soft lips, and hurt feelings. It felt all too much like high school. Why were the stakes so high? Why did she give a shit about this drunken celebrity? This is fucking high school. Her hurt slowly took back its angry energy as her spine straightened completely. She now towered over the brunette and was encased in tense knots. "I don't play games. I want you to fuck me. We're drunk, I'm horny, and you're the one who kissed me first. So, you either fuck me, or you don't. Your choice."

"What makes you think I want to fuck you, Red?" Beca replied defensively as her torso began rising up, her posture supported by her elbows. Chloe's eyes were closed but they quickly reopened with a small sigh. Her left hand reached out to land next to Beca's side, the right following, respectively. Each tick in her head was overwhelmed with murmurs of 'Chloe, Chloe. Chloe,' with her heart echoing back. The redhead was dipping down, her back arched. Where was the line drawn between sobriety and inebriated? Regardless of the alcohol, the kiss would have still burned. She was a wildfire to Beca and Beca wanted so badly to dive in. But what would that burn cost? More than she was willing to give. The thoughts were gathering within a cyclone and gaining momentum. The winds grew stronger and she was left to hold on. Stop thinking. Breathe. Fucking breathe. Chloe was right: she had two choices. Don't think about it, her head finally whispered. Just do it.

Chloe squeaked as the brunette shot forward and captured her lips in a sloppy kiss. Small but strong arms had wrapped around her torso and cushioned her back as they landed. Beca was frenzied; her lips never stopped licking, nipping, or biting while her hands had tasked themselves with trying to fit as much of Chloe's hair in one hand. A demanding tug drew a whimper from puffy lips that were desperately trying to match pace. The redhead didn't know what switch had flipped to have garnered this reaction, but she was fucking loving it. Every pull of her hair and every bruise bitten into her neck had Chloe clawing into Beca's shoulder; she felt one of her nails catch in a distressed part of her t shirt, and, before she even realized, she had made a bigger tear. The only word she could use to describe the noise that left Beca's lips was just short of a growl; she pulled her lips away from her neck and hissed as Chloe's nails drew red, angry lines at her still fully clothed back. Eyes fluttered closed when Beca's lips found her pulse point. "Fuck," she whined. No matter how many times she gasped for air, the burning ache in her lungs persisted.

Almost as quickly as Beca had ensnared your lips, she was across the other side of the couch, her chest heaving. Her lips were swollen, her hair was the richest of chocolate browns woven into intimate and erratic strands, and her smudged eyeliner framed unsettled eyes. Chloe barely had the time to catch her breath.

"We should stop." Her voice was strained, as if she were lifting weights.

"Why? I thought you were enjoying it. I'm sorry-"

"No, no," Beca sighed. "You're a good person, Chlo. I don't want to screw up any friendship we might have. You don't want someone like me around."

"Last I checked, it's the 21st century and I can make choices for myself. You don't get to tell me if I want you around or not. I like seeing you. I want to see more of you. I don't care that you're famous, I don't care you have money, I don't care about any of that. I just want to talk to Beca. Just Beca."

Beca looked up to meet her eyes and she found nothing but shimmering honesty. Beca smiled at the corners of her mouth. "If that's the case, I think we should forget what just happened."

Her chest hurt. She did her best to breathe through her nose, but any movement caused a stabbing sensation. Forget what happened. That's fine, that's fine right? We were drunk.

Forget what happened. She knew she couldn't forget. Her memory was forever tattooed in the paradise of Chloe Beale. But this wasn't about her. Chloe was good. She wouldn't ruin that. She couldn't ruin that.