Note: I've added little flashbacks that will appear in most chapters - they're set apart from the rest by divisions in the text, and they also appear in italics.
Chapter is NSFW.
TW: Internalized homophobia.
It's Kommissar's fault.
It's all Kommissar's fault. If she wasn't so tall and blonde and physically flawless and if she hadn't caused so much sexual confusion, everything would be okay.
That's what Beca tells herself as she sits around a campfire in the middle of the woods with her fellow Bellas, trying her hardest to ignore how much she wants to reach out and touch Chloe.
If Kommissar hadn't made Beca stop and think about exactly why certain women tend to turn her brain to mush, Beca would never be in this situation.
"This situation" being Beca looking into Chloe's eyes over the glow of the campfire and feeling something languid and warm click into her chest, settling in place with a dull thud. "This situation" being her stomach fluttering and heart stuttering more than they ever have when she looked at Jesse. "This situation" being the sudden and terrifying understanding that she's falling for her best friend.
Shit.
And it's only made worse – ten thousand times worse – when Chloe starts to sing. Because of course it's "Cups." Why wouldn't it be, when that's the song that started everything? Chloe knows that, and here she is, singing it as if they're in some corny, campy movie. It's an entirely unfair move, because Chloe knows what the song does to Beca.
Well. She knows it's an important song to Beca.
She probably doesn't know it's currently making Beca feel all kinds of things that a) she'd never intended to feel for a non-male person and b) she should certainly not be feeling for her best friend.
As the chorus fades and the combined voices of the Bellas drift away, dispersed into the woods, Beca realizes four very important things:
First, she realizes she's fallen for perhaps the most compassionate, kind, and hot person on the planet.
Second, she realizes she's been in the process of falling for a long time. Years, maybe. Possibly even since the Activities Fair. It's Chloe. It's always been Chloe.
The third important thing, as soon as it enters Beca's mind, shakes her to her core and causes nausea to roll over her in waves. Her feelings – intrusive, unexpected, and undeniable as they are – for Chloe (stronger than anything she had for Jesse) mean that she, at least on some level, is attracted to a non-male individual. She's attracted to a woman. That means that she's – well, that makes her… she can't even think the word.
Not straight. It makes her not straight.
The fourth and final thing Beca realizes is that she absolutely, 100-percent-completely cannot ever tell Chloe.
Panic, white-hot and overwhelming, rushes through Beca in a whirlwind. It fills her throat, choking her, making her want to gag and retch, but before she can so much as gasp for breath, a terrified scream splits the evening air.
Startled, Beca jerks out of her thoughts to see Amy dangling from a net, caught in a bear trap.
"Guys?" Amy calls, confusion in her tone. "What happened?"
It snaps Beca out of her panic, acting as a welcome distraction from the spiraling thoughts in her mind. She stands robotically with the others, moving to help Amy down from the trap. Stacie even brings over a S'more as requested.
The (relative) normalcy of it all works to soothe Beca, helps her lock up that flood of panic behind the concrete walls in her chest, acting as a dam to hold back the torrent. It lets her forget about her feelings, at least for the moment.
It's later, though, when they're all back in the tent together, that it becomes an issue. Beca can hardly bear the thought of lying next to Chloe in the darkness. She momentarily debates asking to trade places with one of the others, but the thought brings with it a mental image of Chloe's expression, filled with hurt and confusion, if she were to do such a thing. Just picturing it makes Beca's insides squirm with guilt, so she grits her teeth and takes her place next to Lilly (and, therefore, Chloe's perfect and upside-down face). Beca lies back slowly, careful to leave as much room between their faces as she can in the confines of the tent.
"Beca."
She debates pretending she's asleep but figures 0.3 seconds on the ground is too soon for her to realistically have passed out.
"Chloe," she breathes back, staring at the ceiling of the tent.
"Hey, look at me."
"What?"
"You're not looking."
Beca sighs and turns to her left side, still trying to keep as much distance as possible between her face and Chloe's. She raises an eyebrow, hoping her expression doesn't betray how hard her heart is beating in her chest. She wonders if Chloe can tell; if Chloe can somehow see, burning from her eyes, what is now the one secret Beca has from her.
"I'm glad we found our sound," Chloe whispers to her, shining with happiness.
Beca hasn't seen Chloe look that happy in months. She's missed that expression.
"Yeah," she replies, momentarily forgetting everything else in the face of Chloe's joy. "I am too."
Chloe smiles and starts softly, "You know, Beca…"
It instantly launches Beca's mind to the night before, to Chloe's whispered regret of not having experimented enough in college, and the panic rises yet again in Beca's chest, held only by the thin-walled dam threatening to crack under the strain. She knows if Chloe says anything like that again, the dam will break open and spew out the horrible truth Beca's attempting to shove down as far as she can.
"I'm pretty tired," she blurts, speaking over Chloe and cutting her off. The volume of her voice startles Emily, making her jerk.
"So, uh, yeah," Beca says, more quietly this time as her face warms. "I think I'm going to just get some sleep?" the pitch of her voice rises at the end, making it sound like a question.
"Oh," Chloe blinks, lips parted in surprise.
Before she can say anything else, though, Beca rolls to her back and closes her eyes. She knows it's a cheap move, but she can't look at Chloe.
It's common knowledge Chloe is something other than straight. All the Bellas know. Chloe has always been open about it, having made comments about finding women attractive and going on casual dates with women. That, combined with her little "experimentation" thing the night before, had made things pretty clear without her ever having to come out and say it explicitly.
So, it's not like Beca's developed feelings for a straight girl. That's not the problem at all.
The real problem is that she's somehow developed feelings for her best friend. Isn't there some kind of rule against that? Chloe is off limits. It's as simple as that. It's weird, and creepy, and definitely not something that a normal person would ever have to experience. It's not right. It's a violation of Chloe's friendship, her trust. Chloe is her best friend.
That seems to make it both better and worse. She knows everything about Chloe.
Beca has to stop herself from groaning out loud in exasperation.
It's one thing to be attracted to Kommissar; she's a stranger, and anyone with eyes can see how attractive she is. That's a very basic physical attraction. That's what had really started everything: the recognition of her perpetual word vomit for what it really was. Attraction.
Beca huffs at herself, quietly.
God, she'd tried so hard to shove that down and ignore it. She doesn't want to think about it even now, eyes squeezed tight and dam in her chest holding strong. She isn't… like that. She's not gay. It's not - just, no. She can't be.
It's not like she has any issue with people who are gay. Christ, of course not. Beca doesn't care about other people's sexual orientations.
It's just… she wasn't supposed to be this way. It was never an option.
"Goodnight, Bec," Chloe's soft whisper breaks through the cacophony in Beca's mind. Beca can picture Chloe's eyes sliding closed, a small and serene smile on her face, at peace that the Bellas are finally all back on the same page.
(If she's honest with herself, Beca knows the problem hadn't been with the Bellas as a whole. It had been between her and Chloe, and had everything to do with the internship secret Beca was keeping.)
(Now, there's an even bigger secret.)
She isn't gay. She can't be.
But she's definitely not straight, either.
"Goodnight, Chlo."
Shit.
Beca never intends for it to happen. It just does.
She's a freshman living in the dorms, and she's been sharing a room with a creepy roommate and using public showers for almost three months. She hasn't really had much of a chance to relieve the rising stress and tension in her body, something that only worsens and prickles over her skin every time she remembers Chloe barging into her shower to talk about lady jams.
Which is often.
(Only because it was such a weird thing for a stranger to do. That's the only reason she thinks about it.)
It's only natural that when she finds a note from Kimmy Jin one day that simply says, "I won't be back tonight," Beca lets herself get a little excited. She doesn't really care where Kimmy Jin is, though she assumes it's probably with some Korean friends or something. All that matters is for the first time in months, she has a bedroom to herself for the night.
Okay. She's more than a little excited.
It's not like she's a serial masturbator or anything. It's just been a while, and she's got needs. She has what she considers a healthy outlook on masturbation; she's never slept with anyone, so it's a great way to know what feels good and what doesn't for future reference, and it's a nice stress-reliever. She doesn't do it often, but enjoys it when she does.
It's easy to get started that night and fall into her usual rhythm. She knows what to think about, when to cup herself over her shorts, where to let her touch trail over her own breasts. She doesn't imagine anyone specific, because there's not really anyone she would consider in this situation. Briefly, she wonders if she should be thinking about Jesse, but then immediately casts the idea aside, because she really doesn't need him for this.
Closing her eyes to get lost in the moment, Beca waits and feels and lets her body anticipate, hands twitching until she can't hold off any longer. She allows one hand to drift down her stomach, purposely slowly, catching on her sleep top as it goes. She furrows her brow, lost in the moment, until the hand lands between her legs at last, under her shorts but over her underwear. She presses the flat of three fingers against herself, letting out a soft whimper as she feels the dampness even through the cotton.
Her back arches as she presses harder over the fabric, circling lightly now, her other hand fisted into her sheets. She keeps going until the sound of her own panting sighs fill the empty room. Then, she pulls her hand back, only to dip her fingertips under the waistband of her underwear and push down.
Her entire body jolts and she cries out when her fingers are instantly coated in hot slickness; it's been so long that she feels ready to combust at just that barest contact. Her fingers stroke up and down, gliding easily through herself, teasing and circling around sensitive skin. Her breathing turns erratic as she adds pressure to her circles, her hips lifting of their own accord against her hand.
"Fuck," she hisses through clenched teeth, her fingers dropping lower.
She circles her own entrance, drawing out the moment before pressing in slowly. Her hips jerk and she can hear her own jagged gasps as she flutters and curls her fingers, pulling out to circle her clit with the needed pressure and then sliding back in.
In what seems like no time at all, she feels herself tightening and her hips start to rock; her other hand releases the sheets to caress over her chest lazily, no longer needing to be precise. With one final curl, circle, push in, and rub combination, her hips lock in place and her body buzzes, teetering on the edge.
Unbidden and inexplicable, the image of Chloe standing naked in her shower bursts to life behind her eyelids. She's totally unprepared for the stunning rush of visceral pleasure she gets from imagining Chloe's body; it sends fire racing down her spine and she clenches, legs stiffening and back seizing, arching off the mattress. She tries to hold if off, to think of someone – anyone – else, but before she can stop it, she comes hard, crying out more loudly than she'd meant to even in the solitude of her bedroom.
She waits for it to pass, for the pulsing waves to recede, wanting for the first time in her life for it to end quickly. As soon as it does, her hand rips itself from her shorts and she rolls to her stomach, pressing her face into the pillow.
Sobs – actual, gasping sobs – wrack her body and tear from her throat. She hadn't meant to picture Chloe in that moment, hadn't meant to objectify her new friend in that way. It feels like a violation, something shameful and contaminated, to have orgasmed to the thought of Chloe, her very distinctly not-male friend Chloe.
Jesus Christ, what is wrong with her?
Her chest throbs with the force of her crying, and she can't breathe; desperately, she rolls to her back again, taking massive gulps of air in an attempt to calm herself down.
For the first time in her life, she feels perverted, creepy, and unclean. If hell exists, she's almost certainly going directly there.
At that moment, she vows to never let it happen again, to resist the urge, or to force herself to imagine Jesse, or some famous male actor or someone, anyone but Chloe Beale. She can't make a mistake like this ever again.
With that resolution sworn into existence in her mind, Beca eventually falls asleep with tears still streaming from the edges of her eyes, rolling down her temple to soak into her hair.
"We're taking the picture with or without you! We are taking the picture with or without you," Beca emphasizes, annoyed that this whole thing is taking this long.
Graduation is really the least of her worries at the moment.
Thankfully, it only takes another few seconds to corral all the Bellas together. Emily lifts Chloe's phone for the photo – Beca carefully leans to her left to create a little more space between her and Chloe – and a second later, the photo is done. Beca thinks she might have forgotten to smile, but it's okay; everyone will just assume she's being her normal self.
(She was actually more focused on the way Chloe had leaned into her despite the space she'd made between them.)
"Oh, we're so cute!" Chloe exclaims, examining the photo once Emily returns her phone to her. "See?" Chloe starts to hand her phone around, but Beca makes a show of checking her own phone for the time.
"We're gonna be late," she says urgently, trying to wave the Bellas to the cars to get to campus for the ceremony. They'll have to carpool, and she'd really rather not have to sit next to Chloe.
(It's not that she doesn't want to sit by Chloe, or that she doesn't want to let Chloe touch her – she does, more than anything – it just doesn't seem fair to Chloe to let those things happen anymore.)
"We can take my car and Chloe's!" Jessica calls out over the excitement.
"Let's move, Bellas," Chloe says, suddenly all business as she returns her phone to her pocket.
She climbs behind the wheel of her own car, and Beca knows she's waiting for her to claim shotgun like she normally does, but instead, Beca slides into the backseat along with Flo and Lilly, leaving Stacie to take the passenger seat. Chloe glances back at her but doesn't say anything. Still, it leaves a bad taste in Beca mouth and she squirms uncomfortably. Maybe she should have just ridden in Jessica's mini-van instead, but the idea of not at least being in the same car as Chloe when they're about to graduate and go their separate ways is too painful.
The thought of going separate ways after the end of their lease in August sends a new pang through Beca's insides, but she shoves it away and does her best to lose herself in the Shania Twain currently blasting from Chloe's car speakers.
In what seems like no time at all, they're pulling into Barden's crowded parking lot and spilling out of the car to meet up with the others and join the writhing crowd of green graduation gowns milling in front of the gymnasium, which is where the ceremony will take place.
Almost immediately, they're lost in the crowd of graduates and their families; most of the Bellas melt away into the crowd to greet other friends or to find their own families. Chloe latches onto Beca's side, startling her and reassuring her at the same time.
"So, are you –" Chloe starts, only to be cut off abruptly by the appearance of Beca's dad Warren and his wife Sheila. Beca's relieved; she really didn't want to have to answer awkward questions.
"Beca!" Warren exclaims jovially. As a professor, he's also decked out in some ridiculous gown, though his is black instead of green. "You're here!"
"Present," Beca grimaces.
"Hi, Dr. Mitchell," Chloe says politely, giving a little wave. "Hi, Sheila!"
Beca restrains her eye roll as Warren brightens somehow even further. He and Sheila have met Chloe two or three times in the past, and Beca knows Warren credits Chloe for getting her to stay at Barden. As such, he adores her.
"Hi, Chloe, how are you?" Warren smiles warmly at her.
Chloe gives a little wave. "I'm good! You guys?"
"Well, you know, busy…" Sheila says vaguely. "It's been a while since we've seen you."
"I know," Chloe shakes her head, "Beca just keeps you guys all to herself."
Beca shifts her weight, scanning the crowd for no one in particular while Warren and Sheila laugh politely at Chloe's joke. Chloe's better with her dad and Sheila than she is.
"And your parents?" Warren asks.
"Oh, they're good… and actually, they're right there," Chloe replies, pointing to a space several yards away, at a diagonal behind Warren and Sheila. Beca cranes her neck to see Chloe's parents – her dad tall and red-haired, her mom an older version of Chloe – whom she's met a couple of times before. Chloe's brother stands beside them, looking around at the crowd.
"I should go meet them," Chloe says slightly apologetically.
"Of course," Warren replies. "Give them our best."
"Will do!" Chloe smiles. Then, before Beca can do anything to prevent it, Chloe loops her arms around Beca's waist in a side-hug and leans in to press her lips to Beca's left cheek in a quick peck. In the next instant, Chloe bounces away to greet her family with an enthusiastic squeal of joy.
Beca can only stare mutely at Warren and Sheila, her skin burning where Chloe's lips had touched. The stare back at her; Warren looks stunned that Beca had let someone kiss her face, and Sheila's expression is unreadable, her eyes narrowed and lips slightly pursed.
Paranoia hits Beca, warming her neck and making her sweat; that probably looked very suspicious. She can practically see the accusation flaring in Sheila's eyes as if there's some sort of sign glowing out of Beca's forehead declaring in all caps, "I HAVE THE HOTS FOR CHLOE BEALE."
The dam in Beca's chest strains against the pressure of Sheila's scrutiny, whether real or imagined.
She can't let something like that happen again. She can't touch Chloe, and she can't let Chloe touch her. It's too dangerous.
"So…" Warren begins, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit of his when he's feeling awkward. Beca's sure he's going to comment, sure he's going to ask what's going on between her and Chloe and the pressure in her chest rises and rises and rises until he finishes his question: "Are you ready for this, kiddo?" he asks, gesturing vaguely into the crowd.
Beca blinks. Oh yeah. Graduation.
She huffs and shifts her weight, hoping neither her dad nor Sheila noticed her panic. The pressure in her chest drops back to a more bearable level for the time being.
"Well, don't have much of a choice," she answers. "It's kind of, like, right now."
"It went by really quickly, didn't it?" Warren muses, rubbing at the back of his neck again and looking down at the cement under his feet. Beca wonders if he's actually developed some sort of rash back there, until he finally looks up at her with alarmingly watery-looking eyes.
"Oh no, none of that," Beca warns, pointedly looking away. "Can't we just get this over with?"
Sheila hums in general disagreement and says, "I think you'll regret that attitude one day. Won't you miss your... friends?" Her eyes flick in the direction Chloe had disappeared in.
Beca only barely resists rolling her eyes. As if Sheila would really know anything about the Bellas, having never attended a single Bellas performance in the four years Beca has been at Barden.
"I mean, I guess," Beca says, hearing her own impatience. "But you know, there's Worlds, and then I think we're all sticking around this summer until we get kicked out by the lease."
Warren's eyebrows shoot up. "I thought you were going to LA right after Worlds? To meet Jesse?"
Beca opens her mouth, then closes it again. She'd forgotten about that.
She doesn't have until August, after all.
She doesn't have time to think on it long, though, because Sheila asks, "Chloe will be here this summer?"
"Oh, uh," Beca flounders, her brain trying to catch up with what's starting to feel like an interrogation. "Yep, that's – yep, her too. Don't you think you guys should find seats?" she asks pointedly, because now her dad's frowning and looking like he wants to say something else.
The second she reminds them of the impending ceremony and the crushing crowd likely to be inside, his expression clears. "Right!" he says. "We'd better. Come on, honey," he says to Sheila, turning toward the entrance to the auditorium.
Beca frowns at their retreating backs, trying to wipe her memory clean of her dad's pet name for Sheila. She instead focuses on the rapidly-forming line of people in green gowns, attempting to form themselves into alphabetical order as they had been instructed in graduation rehearsal.
Ahead, she sees Chloe hop in the line near the front; with the last name Beale, she'll be one of the first (after Cynthia Rose) to get that empty folder representing a diploma. They make eye contact, and Chloe shoots her a wink that makes heat rise in her cheeks. She's glad they're far enough away that it's not too obvious.
After some asking around and awkward shuffling, Beca eventually finds her place in the line between Charlotte Martin and Dean Monroe, who seems to be wearing his gown backwards.
Beca takes a deep breath to try to steady herself. The pressure rises in her chest again, reminding her of Sheila's suspicious glare and her dad's surprise. I thought you were going to LA right after Worlds? To meet Jesse?
That had been her original plan. God, for years that had been her plan. Now, though, the thought of it makes nausea flip her stomach and suddenly, there's nothing she wants to do less. The deadline – right after Worlds – looms over her head like the blade of a guillotine ready to fall. She's not ready. Beca's vision shimmers and blurs, and her breathing turns erratic. For a second, she feels lightheaded and wonders if she's about to pass out, but then Charlotte Martin in front of her starts walking, the line ahead of her disappearing into the gymnasium, and the only thing Beca can think to do is follow.
One foot in front of the other, repeat, until suddenly she's inside the auditorium, walking past rows of empty chairs until Charlotte leads her to the row marked "M." Frantically, Beca glances toward the front of the room, trying to see Chloe but instead getting an eyeful of Stacie winking at some poor guy sitting in her same row as she finds her seat.
The familiar sight of Stacie flirting with an innocent bystander works to snap Beca out of her fog and calm her down. She sinks slowly into her assigned chair, noting vaguely that Charlotte has already pulled out her phone and is texting at least three different people. Beca doesn't blame her; the ceremony is expected to continue for more than two hours.
The most exciting part of it all will probably be watching the other Bellas cross the stage at the front of the room. She wonders what shade of red Barden's President will turn when Stacie flirts with him openly, and exactly how many backflips Flo can fit in before running out of stage space.
God, she really hopes Amy elected to wear underwear.
An unexpected wave of nostalgia hits hard and fast, memories of the past four years flicking through Beca's mind like one of those montages in movies Jesse always made her watch, every second drawing to this moment.
It doesn't quite feel real, and she's not really ready for it when the Barden President goes to the podium at center stage. He delivers what is probably the same speech from last year, and she only half-listens to him drone on about growth, individuality, and something called "professional preparedness." And then it's like Beca blinks because suddenly he's telling the audience to hold their applause until the end and Britney Acker is being called up to the stage, Cynthia Rose standing right behind her, next in line.
This is happening suddenly very quickly and Beca isn't ready to graduate, she doesn't want to move on because it means she needs to decide between her plans in LA and somewhere else uncharted and between Jesse and someone else uncharted and she doesn't want to think about how she's not straight and how that changes everything in her entire life as she knows it and there's the goddamn pressure again and she's breathing too quickly and –
"Chloe Anne Beale."
Everything stops.
Chloe steps onto the stage gracefully, head held high, and Beca can breathe again. She crosses the stage with a kind of confidence that somehow no one else has yet achieved. Her parents and brother apparently forgot the "hold your applause" rule because Beca can clearly hear three voices cheering and calling out Chloe's name.
Chloe doesn't look for them, though; she shakes the President's hand, takes the green folder, and turns to beam directly at Beca. Somehow, in the mass of green-clad graduating students and despite the very obvious presence of her family, Chloe finds Beca in the crowd instantly.
Beca's chest constricts and she feels her lips lift to mirror Chloe's huge smile, right before Chloe steps off the stage for the next person in line.
LA is suddenly no longer an option.
It hits Beca then that there probably (definitely) should have been a fifth realization somewhere among the string of them at the campfire.
She realizes she has to talk to Jesse.