Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Title comes from the song "Over the Love" byFlorence + the Machine, which is based on The Great Gatsby. The book and the movie, I guess. I feel like that song (as a whole) goes really well with this story so listen to it maybe? Also I also meant for the title to be a direct reference to the green light in The Great Gatsby and this story sort of connects to what the light represents to Gatsby. Okay, I'm sorry. I'm done being an English teacher now. Please forgive me.
A/N: So rabidnar made me write this. I'm not quite sure it's exactly what she had in mind, but this is the best I can do. I picture this story fitting in sometime after the Bellas lose at the semi-finals but before spring break? Well...good luck. I hope you enjoy.
"The Green Light"
For Aubrey Posen, things that can't be measured in quantifiable facts or figures are useless. Ultimately and in spite of all her best efforts, she is her father's daughter and this is the ultimate lesson that he has passed on to her. Emotion is useless and messy. And pointless. Unfortunately, this was the part of the lesson that Aubrey could never master, which should come as no surprise because she's never managed to be the perfect daughter. It's in the middle of the night, when she can't sleep, that she wishes that she was a quicker study. Learning how to block out all the confusion that getting close to someone causes, learning how to make the hurt and the heartbreak not matter would be a blessing right now.
Most people count sheep when they can't sleep. Aubrey just counts. Seconds, minutes, days, months, mistakes. It's been 10,800 seconds since she first laid down (alone) to try and sleep. One and a half weeks since she last had someone to sleep next to her. One and a half months since she last woke up in the arms of the person she loved. Three hundred and thirty six days since she last felt like she could do something right.
After she's sure that Chloe has gone to sleep, Aubrey always gets up and opens her door just a crack. Just in case. Just in case that moment comes when Chloe wants to talk but is too stubborn to knock. A door that's ajar will just swing open at the slightest touch. Aubrey can see into the living room of their apartment through the cracked bedroom door but there's nothing to see. The lights are out, the TV is off. Chloe's bedroom door is closed.
But the cracked door makes it easy for Aubrey to hear Chloe when she starts crying out in her sleep. She's always found it a bit ironic that Chloe is plagued by nightmares. It's hard to think of her bright, bubbly and radiant friend ever having a frightening or negative thought in her head. Of course, as of late, Aubrey has realized that that's far from the truth.
Aubrey waits, counting the seconds in the dark, her lips moving silently. Chloe cries out again and she sits upright, throwing aside her blankets and crossing the dark living room and easing open Chloe's bedroom door. As of lately, her invitation to just walk in whenever she wants has been revoked but Aubrey can't just stay on the other side of the apartment and listen to Chloe dream.
Aubrey slips into bed beside Chloe, resting her hand gently on her shoulder. "Chlo, wake up." She says softly. "You're dreaming." She leans close to her cheek so that her breath ghosts across her skin.
Chloe's eyes fly open and Aubrey can see the disorientation there as Chloe struggles to pull herself out of whatever nightmare world she's been immersed in. She turns to face Aubrey and for a split second relief crosses her face. But it's gone as quickly as it came. "What are you doing?" Chloe questions, her voice thick with sleep.
Aubrey pulls her hand away like she's been burned. "I…you were having a nightmare. I could hear you from my room."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." Chloe rolls back over onto her side so that her back is to Aubrey.
"No…that's not…" Aubrey exhales. "That's not why I'm here. I wanted to make sure that you were all right."
Chloe doesn't change her position. "I'm fine." She tells Aubrey in a tone that suggests that she's anything but. But Aubrey doubts that it's the nightmare that's bothering her. Real life occurrences are undoubtedly to blame.
Aubrey opens her mouth to protest. Maybe even to beg. Don't shut me out. Please. I'll do anything. But she is her father's daughter and she's never pleaded for anything before. Maybe that's her problem.
Instead of saying anything, Aubrey just gets off the bed and walks across Chloe's room. In the dark, it's nearly impossible to avoid the discarded clothes or school books or CDs that Chloe has strewn about the floor. Aubrey used to pick them up for her, used to straighten compulsively, absently, while they talked about classes or the Bellas or weekend plans. Now she does none of those things.
Aubrey opens the bedroom door and glances back at Chloe, hating herself for wanting to be called back. Less than twenty feet of distance separates them but there might as well be an ocean between them.
She's halfway across the living room when she hears Chloe's voice. "Aubrey. Wait." Chloe is sitting up when Aubrey returns to the doorway. "You don't have to leave." Her voice is quiet, childlike, betraying her inability to shake the nightmare. Whatever it was.
Aubrey doesn't say a word as she climbs back into bed beside Chloe. She lays on her back and stares up at the ceiling, afraid to touch Chloe, afraid of what might happen if she did. Afraid of what might happen if she doesn't.
Chloe lays down and on her back as well. Aubrey can feel the heat from her skin, can smell the familiar smells of her strawberry shampoo and the peach scented lotion that she puts on. It makes her unbearable lonely.
"This doesn't change anything." Chloe says to the ceiling. "Not right now."
"Okay." Aubrey says softly, simply.
Chloe is silent for a moment and Aubrey goes back to counting. Ten seconds since Chloe broke her heart all over again. Twenty. A minute.
"Don't you even care?" Chloe says softly. "Doesn't it mean anything to you?"
Aubrey's brow furrows. "How can you even ask that?" Her voice is as hard as the darkness around them.
"You sure don't act like it." Chloe says. "You're still as closed-off as ever."
With a sigh, Aubrey just says, "I don't know what you want me to say."
Chloe scoffs. "Yeah, that's the problem isn't it. You can follow directions. You can sure as hell give them. But you can't figure anything out for yourself."
Aubrey closes her eyes when she feels the sting of tears. She wills them away, desperate to keep them from falling. Aubrey Posen doesn't cry. Crying is weakness. She is not weak.
Nothing has ever been farther from the truth.
Unfortunately, her default reaction to a verbal attack or insult is to remain silent. That's the way her father trained her; it's a lesson that has served her well so far. Silence and a carefully mumbled, "I'm sorry" are usually her best defense. She employs that defense now.
"What are you sorry for now?" Chloe questions, exasperation in her voice. "Aubrey, you don't always have to apologize. You don't always have to be sorry. Can't you just say what you're really thinking for once?"
Aubrey is silent. Counting all the words that she wants to say, everything that she's let go unsaid. "You want to know what I'm really thinking?" She questions. Chloe's silence answers for her. "I can't do this anymore, Chloe. I can't. I miss you. I…it kills me to go through everyday and act like you're a perfect stranger. To live here and feel like I can't talk to you, to feel like you're so far away. I love you. I just want things to go back to the way they were."
Chloe rolls over so that she's on her side and facing Aubrey. Aubrey can only make out the vaguest outline of her features in the darkness; the rest she can fill in from memory. "They can't." She says firmly. "Things can't go back to the way they were before. It wasn't good for either one of us."
Aubrey wants to ask Chloe if she really means that or if she's just talking about this past year. She feels like things used to be good; she used to be happy and she thought that Chloe was too. She wants to ask, but she's afraid of the answer.
Aubrey nods. "Just tell me what I need to do."
"That's the problem!" Chloe's voice finally rises above a whisper. "I don't want to have to tell you. I…" Whatever she's going to say trails off and remains unspoken.
Aubrey stays on her back in hopes that Chloe won't see the tears in her eyes or the way that she's biting her lip in an effort to keep them in. "I love you." She says and her voice shakes and she just wants those three words to be enough. "I don't want to be without you."
She knows that her father would be disappointed. Admitting reliance or dependence on another person is a big Posen no-no. But Aubrey doesn't care. One day she's going to stop caring what her father thinks. Maybe there's no time like the present. It's unlikely but a nice thought.
Chloe reaches over and rests her hand over Aubrey's and Aubrey lets out a breath that she didn't even realize that she was holding. "I don't want that either." She says softly. "Maybe this won't be the end."
Those words scare Aubrey more than anything so far. They had never occurred to her before. She's never thought about this being the end; she never thought about doing something that she couldn't come back from, about causing some sort of irreparable damage. The end was never something that even crossed her mind when she thought about Chloe. Chloe was a symbol of something more, a future where she would be happy and make her own choices and love and be loved. Maybe that's part of the problem. It must be hard to stand up to the pressure of being someone's metaphor.
"It won't." Aubrey says with more conviction than she feels. She twines her fingers with Chloe's. "I love you."
She so badly wishes that was enough. But eventually that phrase becomes almost as useless as "I'm sorry." The worst part is that Aubrey means those words more than anything.
Chloe forces a smile but Aubrey can see that it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I love you too." She says softly. She sounds almost burdened by the idea. That's something Aubrey understands: the burden of emotions and things she can't control. This is the danger that comes when things aren't neatly quantifiable.
They are silent and Aubrey counts the seconds that they spend like that: holding hands and letting the silence hang between them. She counts the beats of Chloe's heart in the pulse of her wrist until they start to match the rhythm of her own.
"Thank you for making sure I was okay." Chloe finally says, her voice soft. "After my nightmare."
Aubrey gives a little shrug. "No one should be alone after a nightmare." Though, she thinks, nightmares are easy. It's harder when those bad thoughts and feelings are real.
Aubrey stays awake long after Chloe has finally fallen asleep again. She keeps her hand in Chloe's, running her thumb absently over the ridge of her knuckles. As she stares up at the ceiling, she hopes to see something there: a light in the distance, assurance for the future. But all she sees are the cracks in the plaster.
When Aubrey finally falls asleep, she's still holding Chloe's hand. When she wakes up, the bed beside her is empty. Maybe last night didn't change anything. Maybe not yet anyway. But maybe it will. Aubrey has to believe that, otherwise she'll have one more mistake to add to her nightly list.
One more thing to keep her from falling asleep.
end.