A/N: I'll offer no excuses and let you get on with reading it; This was an extreme labor of love made by me and my amazeballs Beta Corinne to whom I owe getting anywhere at all with this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it!


You spend the rest of the night, hauled up in your room, headphones on; listening to mindless beats, feeling sad, empty and if you were totally honest, more than a little angry. You don't even bother to switch on the small light that's perched on top of your nightstand. You welcome the dark. It matches your mood.

No, of course, you were furious. Because you were freaking fed up with everything. You were so over everyone attacking you, making you feel horrible, so tired of the overall situation; of you being the constant plaything of the fates, the one that gets the short end of the stick. Every. Single. Time.

You thought, at first, that maybe it was normal; you know that everyone has their fair share of bad luck and tough times but now, it seems like the whole world is out to get you … like they were throwing everything they could at you.

Nothing's going right and it sucks that this - Beca not liking let alone not loving you - is what makes you feel that way because when you think about it … there are far worse situations to be in; like having an incurable life-threatening sickness with only days left to live or having been robbed, or being kicked out of your family home because you couldn't afford to pay for it.

But to feel like your life is ending over something as comparably insignificant as the person you love not loving you back, that should sound downright laughable compared to everything else.

The thing is, it does feel like you've had an incurable sickness, (a 'Beca Bug' if you will, that keeps coming back) and it felt like you'd been living with it and now it was coming to an end, you feel like you'd been robbed of all your time and effort, all the emotional strain that you invested into it. And then you were just left with nothing for yourself with nothing … nothing even to hold on to. In short, you feel like you've just wasted your time.

Your mind starts to wander back to when everything started to fall apart; when you started the downward spiral and you can pinpoint it to when you first got into this competition, it was when you met her, when you became friends with her.

Maybe there was a reason why those fantasy crushes were supposed to remain as such, because the idea itself was what was so beautiful about it in the first place. Because never in this world would the dream match up with reality. Because the Beca Mitchell that you had concocted in your mind simply wasn't real.

She wasn't that girl, she wasn't the love of your life. She was just the face you pinned to this picture perfect dream relationship that you'd been too scared to try and find in real life.

Maybe this was the world telling you that you weren't supposed to meet Beca. She was supposed to remain an ideal to you, something just out of your reach. Something that you would remember with fondness, that would make you laugh at yourself in the future, that you would reveal about yourself in a conversation with someone you wanted to share yourself to and have a connection with. It would be an amusing tale to tell your kids. How their other Mommy had some real competition, her first major crush on a celebrity. And as they got older Beca would be the poster child for explaining knowing the difference between how it felt like to have an infatuation and real love.

But even as you enter the normal safe threshold of dreams, settling into peaceful slumber, even there you can't escape her.

The one who's fault all of this was.


By the morning, however, you made up your mind that you wouldn't let this mere blip on your timeline bring you down, this was just a bump in the road to getting where you wanted to go.

You can't wait for the competition to be over, to have her out of your life. You vow that you are going move on from this and from her.

You entertain yourself coming up with some ideal scenarios; fantasizing that you are in a better place with a distinctively brighter future for yourself.

"Yeah, you know I was shut down by Beca Mitchell when I was just starting out-"

"-Wait, who?"

"Beca Mitchell … she was really big back in the day; won every prestigious award, 5 Grammy's. She had the record for most musical related awards at the time."

"Huh, but you're the one with the record now ..."

"Oh yes that's right … I almost forgot!"

"Wait a minute, could you spell Beca? Is that two c's?"

With that thought setting up the good, slightly crazy, upbeat mood for the day, you swallowed down the bad feelings, put on an extra layer of lip gloss, fluffed your hair a couple of extra times and walked out of your bedroom with a smile.


The sun is shining, evidentially matching your mood. You sing gently on the ride to the studios. You smile and thank the driver and you pass the time of day with the security guards posted at the various locations around the complex. You like how everyone responds to you so you are determined to carry this fine disposition around all day.

That good mood lasted for the better half of practice. You had been determined to ignore the fact that the almost ethereal glow about Beca that morning was causing havoc with your heart. But damn her. How dare her hair be so shiny? Why did she look so rested and well?

She looked like she didn't have a care in the world as she stood by the piano interacting with Stacie. The two of them stood there; Beca behind Stacie, trying to wean her off from unnecessarily caressing her boobs, trying to prevent her from doing the said action during her song numbers. She needed her to stop; there had been some parental complaints but Beca kept it light, teased and laughed during the entire process. If you thought about it hard enough, it could have been mistaken for flirting; well, you don't blame Stacie; she was normally flirty, that's how she was with everyone but there's Beca flirting right back. You wonder if she was doing this on purpose.

And you heave a sigh at yourself for even being bothered about it all in the first place. This whole getting over her part of it was easier said than done.

No, Beca was just being her usual oblivious self; unaware of the weight of her actions or who was affected because of it.

Stacie was shooting confused glances your way the whole time. But you just plastered your biggest smile across your lips, joked as you warmed up, remembering to take extra care to drink plenty of warm drinks and rest when you weren't needed.


The first hour you were getting by just fine … you were fine.

But by the second you weren't any longer. You were tired, having lost a lot of sleep over the past couple of nights and so at this point everything was getting to you; her laugh, her smile, her sparkly eyes, her everything was grating on you, the way she ran her hand through her hair just purely irritated you.

She was throwing compliments at Cynthia Rose and from your vantage point, it looked like she practically had her hands on Stacie's boobs at one point. But you're actually seeing real interaction as well; Beca is pushing on Stacie's flat stomach trying to feel if she was using her diaphragm correctly. Beca never, not once, touched you in practice like that. You're a total mess today. You really feel like you were starting to lose it.

Cynthia Rose was almost done with her turn and you hear Beca offer to text her for moral support that evening. For some inexplicable reason, this completely irks you and your happy façade cracks like a broken mirror.

"Don't expect an actual text message though with anything useful in it." You hiss out between your teeth, probably slightly louder than you intended. It causes everyone to look your way.

"Pardon Chloe, did you say something?" Beca asks.

"Nope." You say, emphasizing the 'p' at the end.

"You sure? You OK over there?" Beca asks kindly, her tone filled with worry. (You'd feel it, noticed it whenever it was directed towards you.)

You hate it.

"Yep." You spit out, stressing the word and refusing to make eye contact.

"Did you finish getting warmed up with Anna?" She asks as she starts making tracks over to you. "Remember you have to do at least ten minutes ..."

"Oh yes, your Highness." You mutter to yourself under your breath. "Your wish is my command. All obey the whims of the mighty Beca Mitchell."

"Um, Chloe." Beca speaks into your ear and you startle a little as you didn't realize just how close she was. "A word please."

She places a hand on your elbow and gives you a barely noticeable shove as if to make you move.

"Don't touch me. You'll need to wash your hands after this. I'll give you gay germs." You childishly, quietly whinge, tucking the words into your shoulder. You don't like the way you are acting but you decide not to care. Only by the good graces of a decent upbringing do you follow her lead and move to the side of the practice room.

"What?" You ask as you lean against the wall, there's harshness to your tone you can't quite help.

"Um, okay. Clearly something is up." Beca says in reply, all fidgety, her hands twisting, her fingers fiddling with each other.

"WOW! Ya think?!" You snap.

Her steely eyes fix on yours and you stare back, hoping to get her to back down. She does finally and you inwardly smile triumphantly.

"Are you actually going to talk to me properly? Can we lose the attitude please?" She says, suddenly sounding weary. You refuse to notice the heavy make up concealing the dark circles under her eyes or the slight downturn at the corners of her mouth, slack from lack of rest.

"Not today! No!" You say as you push yourself off the wall and walking away. You don't look back to see her raise her hands up to the ceiling.

"Chloe. Where do you think you're going?" Beca calls out after you. Her tone (it's not angry but sad and needy) nearly makes you falter in your stomp.

"To get a drink."

"Fine." Beca says as she walks towards Stacie, making a circular motion with her hands. "Stacie, let's go from the top."


Practice is later moved to a different location just offstage; it's loosely packed with members of the crew testing their equipment and you're not so far from the actual stage where all the other Teams are; the other artists wandering by occasionally, hanging out when they had downtime (Fat Amy's there with you). Team Usher's currently having a run through. Team Beca would have the stage right after.

The next half an hour or so passes with you making loud, snippy comments from the corner of the stage, where you have stationed yourself and your bad attitude along with your phone, half hidden by one of the stage drapes. You text Aubrey and moan about everything and anything and are currently into the eleventh tirade of moody messages when Beca moves and stands in your light.

"Are you planning on joining in anytime today or are you gonna continue to sit making faces at your phone? Do you not realise how far into this competition you are? Lose the attitude, put your phone away, get up and take your turn with the set please."

"Ah, Beca." You say, your ingrained manners forcing you to put your phone in your pocket despite the snarky reluctance part of your behaviour willing you to see how far you could go to really annoying her. "You don't get a say in my life as I don't get a say in yours."

"Chloe, I am still your coach and-"

"-You're my coach, and that's all you'll ever be to me. I got the memo." You say, your voice slightly raised. You stand and move towards a table covered in sheet music. You watch as Beca quickly, frantically gazes around to see if anyone had heard. She breathes a sigh of relief when she confirms and is certain that everybody else is preoccupied. Stacie is doing some scales, Cynthia Rose is having a discussion with Fat Amy. The staff members are busy doing what they were supposed to be doing.

You just roll your eyes, realizing you've stopped caring about it all. It was easier than wasting your time and energy speculating every little detail, feeling too much and getting your heart broken in the process.

"Chloe ..." Beca begins, always one to grow uneasy over long silences, her voice is taking on that worried tone and her eyes on you have taken on the 'poor injured animal about to be put it out of its misery' look to them and you don't want that sympathy, especially not hers.

"I'm fine." You lie.

"Clearly, you aren't. Chloe, just … can we talk?" Beca says, her voice lowering; taking a spot by the table on which you are currently perched. "Can I talk?"

You shrug, not quite ready to be accommodating but Beca doesn't falter. "Look, I know this is hard on you. It is hard on me too. I'd like to tell you sincerely that-"

"-No! You don't know how hard it is for me and I have absolutely no idea what's going on with you … and honestly I am so sick trying to figure everything out."

Beca breathes long and hard, her breaths almost sounding pained before she speaks.

"I just don't know how to make everything okay …" She says softly, her gaze on you is hard and unwavering. "... I want to be able to fix things and I really wish … it could be easier. That it could all just go back to being simple-"

"-so you're deciding to actually be honest with me for once, that's good." You interrupt, louder than necessary. You watch as her shoulders slump and you realise just how mean you have been all morning. But she deserved it, didn't she? So why is this getting to you? Why does her 'I'm a sad little girl' act still affect you?

Darn it, Chloe. Get a grip!

You shake yourself and start to move away but the few moments of silence have prompted Beca to speak. Your mind is racing with a thousand thoughts so you have to force yourself to listen to her. You catch the end of her little impassioned speech.

"… so I'm sorry, okay?" You actually cringe at hearing the word, like your body itself is trying to block it out.

"Wow, that would actually need for you to mean what you said." You spit out. Because she couldn't be sorry, could she? She didn't mean it because if she did, she would just stop doing it, the actions that would result in her saying it to stop hurting you.

"Chloe?"

"Forget it Beca."

"Okay, I'll allow you to walk away from me now so you can get some air, get everything out and off your chest. As long as you can promise to come back ready, with the killer instinct I know you have in you." Beca says, trying to pull you back in with her charm.

She moves to take your arm, probably in an effort to help you stand but you're immediately reacting against the touch, pushing it away.

"I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop telling me what to do," You seethe, flicking a dangerous look towards her.

Beca opens her mouth to speak but you aren't done.

"And let me decide things for myself God dammit!" You say, the words leaving your mouth much louder than you had intended.

The buzzy busy hall has suddenly become still (it seems your voice had travelled across backstage at precisely the right time, a rare moment where everyone had taken pauses in their own conversations, catching everyone's attention) and you're there mightily aware of everyone focusing between the two of you. There are hushed, bated breaths as the onlookers take in the situation, excitedly awaiting Beca's reaction.

"All right, that's enough." Beca says sharply, her patience clearly gone, the fire returning to her eyes. You have the good graces to look at the rubber stage floor as she turns to the other girls in the area. "Guys, can you give us ten minutes please."

All of them start chattering up again; people start leaving, everyone except Fat Amy, Stacie and Cynthia Rose.

They don't move. Instead they look away, pretending to be distracted by the stage lighting. The two of you watch the three of them feign interest for a beat of a second till Beca gives another long, hard sigh whilst massaging her temple.

"Uh, girls?" She says trying to gain their attention. "What's up? I asked for some time with Chloe." Beca says and you can hear the weariness and the effort it's taking her to remain patient.

"We're going to stay ...for ... um ...Chloe." Stacie meekly says.

"We love you Coach but Chloe's our girl and with all due respect we don't think it's the best idea that you two be alone together." Cynthia Rose says,

Beca's frown deepens as each girl talks, her gaze shifting quickly from one girl to the next.

"Yeah given the situation … between the both of you." Fat Amy says and you look up quickly. Beca doesn't know they know. She can't know that they know, you know she wouldn't like it.

"What?" Beca's eyes flash as she starts moving closer to them. Fat Amy backs away. "What situation, what do you mean-" Beca's voice is cutting, harsh (she's never taken that tone when talking to them) Stacie too has moved away only Cynthia Rose stands her ground moving slightly in front of the other two.

"-You know with what happened." Fat Amy answers safely from behind CR.

Beca immediately turns on you, her crazed eyes screaming 'you told them?' exposing something much more raw hidden in their depths, some parts fear, some parts confusion, betrayal and pain. There were so many emotions there, it actually stills you for a moment.

"We need to talk now." She breathes out slowly.

"Coach relax." CR says and you look to see Beca's fists are all balled up, trembling slightly from trying to contain whatever she was feeling.

"Beca, it is fine, we don't care about it-" Stacie says.

"-I don't know what it is you're saying but I need to talk to Chloe and whatever we need to discuss doesn't concern any of you. So, I'd like it very much if you leave now please." She talks slowly, and the sentence itself isn't rude or at all threatening or even scary but her tone and the way she says it sends chills down your spine.

"Unless you'd rather I kick you out myself?" She adds.

You are aware of bodies moving and a flurry of activity as Beca walks away from you, she beckons you into a side room. You snub her, determined not to make this easy for her. You are so busy wrapped up thinking of ways to ignore her that she has to call you to get your attention.

"CHLOE! Now please."

"Chloe, now please" You mutter under your breath, mimicking her words.

You follow and step through the door as she moves to lock the door behind her. You don't take the seat she offers you, not because she told you to but half an hour of sitting on the hard floor had gotten mightily uncomfortable and you'd prefer to stand anyway for this.

"What did you do?" She demands instantly.

"Nothing, I-"

"-You told them! Why the HELL?! I don't understand, what do you want to happen here … are you honestly trying to." She breaks off, breathing unevenly, clutching at her chest. "You are going to be the one to ruin me." She says, her voice harsh and grating.

Beca's anger is nothing compared to yours. You are furious right now, you feel the bile rise in your throat.

"Stop acting so high and mighty like you didn't do anything wrong." You pause to take in the eye daggers that she is currently throwing your way. "What? Did you keep expecting me to take this laying down? I'm sorry I can't be your own personal doormat anymore, smiling and pretending to be happy, letting you think you could get away with walking all over me."

Beca's anger dims a bit as she absorbs what you are saying, she starts to look somewhat contrite but she hasn't stopped shaking.

"I'm just saying, asking you to try and see this from my point of view, Okay yes, I was unfair because I was confused and lonely and in turn I ended up hurting you. I regret that more than anything I've done ... but I don't know how else to say it but what you're doing... blatantly telling people; not just any people, the other contestants no less ... of my error in judgement ... don't you see what it could do to my career, for my relationships if you'd ruin this for me …"

It's always about her, wasn't it?

"Blah blah blah, me me me me … it's always about YOU, isn't it?" You say bitingly, raising your hand and jamming your finger in her direction. "Don't you get tired talking about yourself? Also, stop jumping the gun! There wasn't anything to talk about since it was a mistake and didn't really happen right?"

"Stop snarking at me alright ... I can't deal with you being like this! I can't deal with this shit!" Beca exclaims, running her hand through her hair. You notice her hand is unsteady but you ignore it.

"Well I can't keep …" You start and your brain is screaming for you to say 'letting you hurt me. letting you break my heart' but you don't, pausing a moment for clarity instead. "... I won't let you make me feel like this any longer ... so just skip all the bullshit and stop pretending to be nice and understanding. You are supposedly hurt and heartbroken or whatever. And would you stop? Just stop looking at me like I'm about to go crazy. One thing though … just one thing and I want a straight answer, I just don't get why did you have to kiss me?" You half demand, half beg for her to explain everything, to make things right, for everything to make sense and to show if any of this was worth it.

Your anger is almost at boiling point and you can feel the blood rushing to your face; your emotions are fluctuating, mixing together and you're feeling the hurt, the overall confusion. It's hard to make sense of it all, for you to even come up with a complete sentence.

"We already talked about this." Beca said, ignoring your plea. Her arms that were hanging loosely by her side, she now wraps tightly around herself. You flinch. Does she feel like you feel? Like you're bursting apart at the seams, your insides flying every which way, and you can't quite hold yourself together anymore.

"Yes, and I don't need a repeat, I guess. A girl can only handle so much rejection. You've given me enough over the top drama for a lifetime." You say, making a jab at her.

"And all you give me are problems … you speak back to me, you cause scenes, all you do is get me into trouble, making this difficult for me. Jesse was right; I don't know why I let you into my life." She says meanly. You don't react; your face is hardened now, your feelings rigid, you don't let it affect you, you're almost immune to them by now. You only aim is to try to inflict the same amount of hurt, you want to cut her to the quick.

"I'm sorry that I'm such a burden to the poor little rich girl who thinks she has the sole ownership of all the problems in the world ... oh my daddy doesn't love me ... people judge me too quickly ... I am so distanced from the world because of who I am-" You taunt, your voice taking a childish tone. You bring your balled up fists to your eyes mocking her as if she was a child rubbing at the tears in her eyes. You stick out your bottom lip and stare at her defiantly, stopping short of whining like a baby.

"-The burden that I have is that I actually have to put up with you. You know what, I regret choosing you to be on my team because now I have to keep working with you." Beca spat out.

"Regrets? You wanna talk about regrets? Mine was that I had the displeasure of actually meeting you … I wish that I never joined this competition." You say spitefully. And as you say it, it actually hurts you, there is a physical burn to your chest because this was it. This was you realising that everything you were saying was you erasing all of the memories of everything you've ever shared.

You don't know how the two of you could ever be okay after this. There was no going back after this.

"Yeah, well me too! Imagine you could've saved us all that misery, saved me the torture of dealing with some nosy, prying, overly touchy, bordering on harassment know it all wanna be!" Beca retorted.

"Well I don't know why anyone would stick through all of your crazy shit Beca! You are damaged goods! I hate your stupid stories; that was just a desperate plea for attention, all your dramas … I regret even listening to them." You bark out, trying to get her to break, to crack and for her to fall apart like you are doing.

"How DARE you speak to me like that?" Beca spits out, a slight tremor to her lip.

"You keep saying how no one stays with you and you make it seem like it's because they gave up too easy. But it's because you manipulate people, you think you can get away with everything because of who you are; that you can use their feelings for you, to your advantage." You say, no longer caring about her feelings in all of this.

"Yeah you'd know all about me wouldn't you? You ARE the expert on all things Beca Mitchell. My own personal stalker." Beca adds maliciously.

"What, did you like get a huge ego boost because one of your fans was so obsessed with you that she followed you all the way from Ohio?" You ask.

"If you really think that you don't know me at all." Beca answered, her voice full of regret. "Which is Ironic considering-"

"That's the thing right, I don't ... I never did. You've shown me so many versions of yourself but under all of them you're just a scared little girl, I can't believe I actually idolised someone so pathetic and weak. And a complete fake-" You say vindictively.

"-Take that back." She barks at you.

"Why? It's all true isn't it? You're the opposite of genuine, you're a liar-YOU FAKE!" You snark and Beca's hand grabs at your arm. You flinch and angrily pull your arm away.

"Take it back-" She repeats, taking a further step towards you.

"-DON'T touch me!" You squeal (your voice sounds odd, scared and raw with emotion) and your hand is itching by your side, your heart thumping wildly.

"Take. It. Back." Beca says once more. Her steely eyes are pinning you down but you manage to return her gaze steadily.

"Stop telling me what to do!" You demand, raising your hands to your ears in a childish attempt to block out the sound.

"-Just shut up!"

"Why don't you make me?" Beca says, an easy taunt to her words.

"Do not push me Beca freaking Mitchell." You warn, your hands flying to your hips. You cock your head to one side.

"Push you? Push you into what?" She asks in what you deem a highly patronising manner.

Okay fine, this argument was going nowhere and she was really getting to you. You feel the thrum of energy, of needing to physically do something, to hit something-anything to release everything. You might have to warn her before you actually do or say something you might regret.

"Just go. Go on, do you what you do best. Leave." You wave an arm loosely towards the door.

"Chloe, you do not get to tell me what to do here." Beca states. "OK?"

"Oh, right. You wouldn't listen to me anyway. You only ever do what you want to do. How do you even have functioning relationships-Oh yeah you don't, You can't even maintain a relationship with your own damn father." You bite.

"LEAVE MY FATHER OUT OF THIS." She roars. "You do not get to bring my father into this when he is completely irrelevant."

"Or what?" You taunt.

"Chloe, leave it." Beca says, running both hands through her hair, looking wild eyed as she seems to be processing a memory in her mind. "This is not about me, but your inability to let something go that isn't yours to hold on to, wasn't yours to begin with."

"Oh we are back to that, are we?" You snigger, digging your hands into your pocket.

"Back to what?"

"You throwing your cryptic bullshit at me." You say as evenly as you can, even though you can feel your nostrils flaring and your ears turning red. "Snarking, making smart comments trying to mess with my head."

"Well, I am just matching your bitchy tone -" She smirks at you. That mouth that you wanted to kiss so badly before today now is making your blood boil.

"-And thinking so highly of yourself that you actually think …" You pause to regroup your words. "... you actually think I'll still want you after all of this." For some reason this seems to wind her the most, Beca's face pales, she looses that confidence for a mere moment;her mouth opening without a sound coming out. But then almost as quickly back's the color, and her face red with rage, her mouth twisting unpleasantly.

"Oh for fucks sake Chloe, fucking GROW UP! You are beyond pathetic. We were never-are never going to be together. Get it? We are from two sides of the tracks. I mean, seriously, I am who I am. You though … you are nothing, a nobody … an unimportant part of my life. Remember what I said in the janitor's closet; after the competition is over, I will move on and forget about you. You think I am that desperate for attention, that I need to scrap the bottom of the barrel and choose to have you in my life -you're not worth it-"

There's a ringing in your ears, a stillness in the air before

*SLAP*

The sound echoes around the room.

You weren't sure who was more surprised that your right hand flew from your pocket and cracked her right across the side of her face. It wasn't a delicate slap, you knew this by the way she reeled and took a step to the left. Her own hand flew up to hold her cheek as she spun round to look at you, a complete look of shock on her face.

Your hand is stinging; tingling with regret. You hadn't meant to actually strike her. And you hadn't realised how good it would make you feel.

"Fuck you" you whisper breathing shakily, trying to calm down but you can't seem to, "I hate you!" You then yell. "I hate you for being you."

Your throat feels raw; it's a bad sign. You need to leave, this was bad for you, look what Beca was doing to you.

"Chloe …" Beca said, still clutching her face, looking absolutely winded, utterly gobsmacked.

"No, you need to go. Just get out of my life. I hate you." You ball your fists for real this time.

"Chloe?" Beca says your name, trying to stop your tirade. Her eyes still carrying that look of surprise, of suddenly knowing how crazy she'd made you like you'd finally slapped some sense into her.

"You have made it your personal mission to treat me like shit, and you have done nothing but be mean to me. You use to make me feel alive. You made me feel like I was worth something. And then you just went and crushed everything I had wanted, believed in, held on to and hoped for. And now? Now, I just hate you. I hate you." (maybe if you said it enough times you'd actually believe it) You feel the tears forcing their way out, leaking down your cheeks.

"Chloe, stop it." Beca says, a sadness to her eyes.

"WHY-How dare you just stand there? I said GO! LEAVE!" You say loudly, raising your fists aggressively.

Beca takes a step towards you but all you see is your intended target as she raises her arms to pull you closer to her.

"I hate you." You repeat, and begin to beat your fists on her chest. You hit her several times causing her to wince, though she still doesn't back away. You're breathing heavily with the exertion, with the utter exhaustion from this whole situation.

"Chloe, it's okay." Beca says, as she takes your hands in hers and lowers them to your side.

"NO, it's not okay." You say, struggling violently against her grip, wanting to hurt her, to make you feel better. "Let me go. I don't want to be anywhere near you. I hate you, remember-I hate-mff-"

You blanch as Beca reaches up and swiftly, suddenly covers your mouth with hers, silencing your bitter words. She releases one of your hands to wrap her own around the back of your neck as she presses her lips harder onto yours, stopping the vitriol from leaving your mouth.

Beca pushes you to the wall, your back hitting it with a few easy strides. You're don't quite know what is happening but you want it to stop. You just want to get away from her, away from the room and away from the competition. You catch her staring up at you and she holds your lips with her own. She releases the back of your neck and grabs at your hands, raising them above your head and pinning your arms to the wall, holding them with her left arm.

She pushes against you even harder and you can feel her lips even more forcefully on your own. You can feel your legs shaking more and more and she presses her body up against yours. Her one leg has found it's way in between yours. She traces a hand up and down your back. And you feel her hips rock into yours.

You can feel her tongue tracing your bottom lip, begging you to open your mouth. Your resolve is slipping but you don't want to give in, not yet. She pulls on your bottom lip again, chewing gently. You try to pull away. She bites harder. You open your mouth to protest but she takes that as submission. You feel her tongue searching for yours as her hand grips a handful of your hair, twisting your head to the side, forcing your mouth open and her tongue in deeper.

The kiss became harder and more intense, insistent, persistent and full of longing. You resist trying to kiss her back but the ache between your legs is suggesting to you that you want it just as much as she does.

You are desperately trying not to moan as Beca sweeps inside your mouth, hungry to taste you, eager to show you that all of the words she spilled earlier was just white noise and fear.

She kisses you harder and harder, urging you to join her. She begins to bite on your lip, each touch more intense than the one before. She moans into your mouth, her breath coming in short pants.

Each touch has more adrenaline than the one before and you are losing the ability to form a coherent thought. All you can think about are her hands on your waist, trailing up and down your arms. You hadn't even realised she wasn't holding your arms above your head anymore.

You let your arms fall onto her shoulders, your arms encircling the nape of her neck. You can't help yourself and you start to kiss her back, your face angling to deepen your kiss all the more, returning each movement of her mouth hungrily. Your body is moving, pushing, thrumming against hers. You increase the intensity and sweep your tongue back into her mouth, battling for dominance.

You needed to break for air but you don't want it to stop.

Her taste, the feel of her tongue caressing yours, you want to remember it all.

You pull away, both breathless and you push her away from you. You feel a bubbling excitement that you have never felt before, a connection that you had been missing. She leaned back in towards you, kissing you gently on your lips again before peppering your cheek with light kisses, applying more pressure as she moved down to your jaw line, flicking her tongue into your ear, nibbling on your lobe. You suppress a groan.

You can feel her hot breath in your ear and your knees grow weak.

She moves back to your mouth. It's more teeth than anything this time but it hurts the way she's holding on to you so tightly, the pressure of her face pinning yours to hers. You feel the softness of her skin, warm against your own. Then, all of a sudden she relaxes her grip, her whole body softens, she becomes gentler, her eyes darken and she moves slowly, gently; her lips now trying to soothe the bruises she placed there just moments before.

You get carried away, you're supposed to hate her but you can't help loving her lips on yours. Wanting them. Needing them. It's perfect; how good it makes you feel, it's perfect. Your heart's fit for bursting; the first kiss had been all about sadness, but this one is mostly fueled by anger and lust. Your body moves on a mind of its own trying to relieve itself of passion that has filled you; yearning for this one woman who just can't seem to want you back in the same way unless she's cornered and has no other choice to.

Beca's looking up at you and flicking eyes towards your lips. You wish she wouldn't.

You need to leave the room. It's suddenly very hot in here and the way Beca is looking at you has you all confused. She takes a step forward and you noticed her hand hesitantly moving at her side. You aren't quite sure how it happens but suddenly she is up in your space, her hips are touching yours again and she's inches away from you. You can feel the heat radiating from her. It's intoxicating.

"Beca ..." You start to say but she's coming even closer to you now. Your breath hitches in your throat as you reach up a hand to track it through her chocolate curls, your fingers grazing over her ears and you spot the flurry of goose bumps that appear on her neck.

Within the shortest of seconds, she has your face in her hands, and you feel the warmth of her fingers touching your cheeks. Each pad ignites a little fire on your face and even though she is only lightly touching you, your world starts to spin. You see her part her lips and she reaches up to meet yours.

"Wait!" You gasp, your last pathetic line of defense. "No! Stop ... please."

Then there's a knock to the door but you don't move from your positions just yet. You wait for whoever the person is to leave.

"Miss Beca? Are you in here? Sir Jesse has been trying to call, he said he couldn't reach your phone ... Miss Beca?" The voice is muffled, the heavy wooden door muting the conversation. You hear a few more knocks and you frustratingly wonder why he won't leave? How does he even know there's anyone in there?

You glance at Beca and you can see the regret settling in; the knock had broken the spell. Her face has that same scared look, the one you are so painfully aware of, the 'how can I get out of here fast enough' face that she has. Shit, no. Fuck, no way will she do this to you again? But you can see it before she says it. You can almost smell the regret in the air.

"I'm sorry, oh fuck ..." Beca says in the moment of quiet, as she pulls away from you completely. "... that shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry it did."

But everything else about her; her swollen red lips, her chest moving rapidly, her darkened blue eyes ... it says otherwise.

You're breathing hard too, heart racing. That brazen behaviour; the sheer desperation how you moved, touching her, pulling her to you ... had shocked you.

Where was the control? Where was the vow never to acknowledge anything about her anymore? Why did you give in so easily? Why were you so damn weak when it came to her? A thousand questions run through your mind.

Even now when she was backing away, you yearn to reach out to pull her in again, to continue what was to you the most amazing, crazy hot, soul-changing, heart searing, jolting, highly addicting make out session you'd ever had.

She was an amazing kisser ... and you know, you were sure that if you did act on it, she would put up a fight, struggle at first but eventually she would melt into your kiss and return it with a fervour (the thought of it, her hands all over you, her hot lips on your neck just a while ago sends a shiver throughout your body, and you're acutely aware how damp you are, how much you're painfully throbbing down there).

Her eyes watch you intensely; you know she's thinking of it as well. She takes an unsteady breath and you feel the heat rise in the room then she takes the little step forward ... you follow with a step of your own your body moving on its own accord as you push up against her.

You're just about to let go of your inhibitions, to seal your lips to hers, to surrender to your want, your need when ...

"Stop I can't ..." She says and you back away from her as fast as you can, (almost as fast as when you came together just moments before).

You stare at her, blinking rapidly.

"We can't! This … didn't happen … It won't happen again ..." She says sounding almost angry. She's shaking her head at herself, her clenched fist she pressed hard against her forehead.

You feel the heat burn in your chest, on your face and you're so ashamed of yourself.

"I'm sorry ..." Beca continues, her eyes turning on you are pleading for you to understand, but that's just the thing you don't, you have no idea what's going on with you, with her … with anything at all anymore.

She tries to come close … to hug you, to reassure you.

You don't know but she can't fix this. Right now Beca can't do anything that won't make you hate her or yourself any more than you do now.

"Don't ..." You say, your hand pushing her away. "... fucking … touch me again!"

"Chloe … I-"

"-Keep your sorry …" You interrupt her. "... you keep apologizing to me and that word no longer has meaning with you. You never mean anything you say. Nothing you say or have ever said in the past or promised me was ever genuine ... it's rubbish ... so just stop talking to me all together-"

"-Chloe, what?" It's Beca's turn to cut you off.

"You keep messing with my head and I don't know why I'm still here blindly waiting on you..." you gasp out between holding the new wave of tears threatening to spill, "I'm done you hear me, and I'm gone. I'm leaving the competition!"

She stands there her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

You back up, turn and run towards the door, unlocking it and thrusting it open with such gusto that Benji, standing quietly with his fingers poised to knock again, almost falls over in your haste to get past him. You grab your purse from the practice room and then you run from the building, ignoring everyone who calls after you. All you hear is the sound of your footsteps pounding on the concrete and the voice inside your head telling you how much of an idiot you are.

You throw open the door of one of the cars, launching yourself on to the back seat and just squeak out the word 'home'.

You just want to go home.

You can't believe you're in the very same situation; in a car running- after being confronted, surprised then hurt by Beca- like a constant repeat of suffering that you subject yourself to.

You're trying to put as much distance from her as you possibly can but you know the attempt itself is futile; there was no place far enough where you could escape her.

I can't take it

What am I waiting for?

My heart's still breaking

I miss you even more

And I can't fake it

The way I could before

I hate you but I love you

I can't stop thinking of you

Its true I'm stuck on you

Now love's a broken record that's been skipping in my head

I keep singing yesterday

Why we got to play these games we play?

Every now and then

When I'm all alone

I be wishing you would call me on the telephone

Say you want me back

But you never do

I feel like such a fool


You get home looking forward immensely to the company of two of your best guy pals; men who would always be there for you, 'Ben' and 'Jerry'. You unearth the emergency pint of cold, creamy goodness from the back of the freezer ... the place you never touch in order to keep up with your health regimen ... but to hell with that.

You utter a greeting in Aubrey's direction. She looks up from her sheaf of papers, curiosity clearly etched on her face. She can tell by the pint in your hand that today didn't go well. Aubrey didn't dare stop you, she'd only seen you like this once before ... when you had missed Beca's DJ set, near your neighborhood ... a very rare occasion.

That was a long time ago ... you couldn't even bear the sight, the smell, the sound or whatever of Beca right now.

You sink into the pillows on your bed, popping the lid on your tub of ice cream. You take one look at all the little Beca collectibles around the apartment, her face plastered all over your little posters, staring back at you, almost mocking you. All the things Beca had laughed at upon discovering them; her little laughter and the memory of that echoes in your head.


"Is that the poster from my Broadway days?" The voice comes behind you, standing at the doorway. In your haste you had failed to close it properly. You want to slam the door, but that just wouldn't be polite. Beca strides into your apartment without your permission, finding the framed poster that you'd left on the wall, lifting it off.

"Uh … no! Yes! … I didn't know I had that." You say, trying to snatch it out of her hands, which she evades quite well.

"I thought they sold out. There were three in circulation and one went to some museum, I have another and they said a fan bought the final one. You aren't the crazy obsessed fan are you?"

"No, not me … no siree, No … And what are you doing up here? I said five minutes, can't you count?"

"Okay I totally believe you. What were you doing? Hiding what you don't want me to see? Hey I remember this. It's from that video game movie I starred in," Beca says, picking up the movies signed script. "My, my you have quite the collection. How did you get this stuff?" She's freely striding across the living room, while you settle on your comfy couch feeling your knees give way. This was worse than the times that you were caught doing embarrassing things by your relatives and trust me, there were many an occasion; the whole making out with the television wasn't even the worse that can come to mind.

"eBay … Amongst other places."

She's still grinning widely to herself, staring you down … Yeah this situation was soo funny.

"Okay fine! I'm freaking obsessed with you. Are you sufficiently weirded out now?"

"No, I'm actually extremely flattered ... It's kinda cool being friends with an actual die-hard fan … You carry yourself around me pretty well."

"You mean I'm not salivating at your mere presence? I know you're an actual person. I wanted to treat you like one. I didn't just want you to be a face on a screen."

"You wanted us to be friends? Well you got what you wanted, man you are resolute ... I didn't really make it easy for you, for anyone really, to get close."

"Well you're worth it ..."


You were stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Before you know it, you find yourself ripping the posters from the wall and throwing everything you can find, and that you can get a hold of, into the bin.

Every tear you make, every single thing you crumple in your hands does nothing to make you feel any better.

The rest of the things that won't fit into the bin in your bedroom, you pile into a gigantic trash bag which you plan to haul outside as soon as you can. You don't care what's broken, torn or damaged; you just want it out of sight.

Aubrey finds you in the midst of your insanity, all sweaty, breathing heavily with your make up running down your face.

"For all that is aca-holy!" she gasps as she sees how trashed your room is. She takes you into her arms, calming and steady and leads you to the bathroom to shower it off. She offers to clean up the mess you've made while you stand under the hot water.

Perhaps you had drifted in and out of consciousness for a bit, as it seems like only a few seconds past before she comes back later to help you out of the tub.

You allow her to wrap you in a towel-to change you-(by now you're too tired to do anything else) then tucks you into your newly made bed.

"I'm sorry you're hurting Chlo-" she says, placing what is supposed to be a comforting hand to your back, but there's that pain in your chest again, threatening to overwhelm you.

Long story short, you fall asleep pouring your heart and your bitter tears into Aubrey's lap.


It is way past midnight when you hear loud banging coming from the far side of the apartment.

What the hell?

Your neighbors can't be getting into it at two in the morning ... besides they were old, way too old for the amount of noise, there's no way they could be that loud ...

*CRASH* BANG*

Oh wait someone's trying to break in! Shit! Uh ... what do you have to defend yourself ... no baseball bats, no crow bars ... wait an umbrella ... what were you gonna do? Tap it on some bricks and pray it takes you away to Diagon Alley?!

Wait, oh yeah, you have Aubrey ... she's a black belt in something fierce, you are sure of it. She can take care of whoever it is.

You shake her gently at first, then more aggressively.

"Aubrey! Wake up!"

"What is that?" Aubrey murmurs sleepily. "It's-"

"-Chloe!" The loud shout cuts Aubrey off and she stares in the direction of the front door with you. She's still pretty out of it though; she'd already started nodding off again when you take a few steps forward towards the noise.

Whatever it was you were thinking, robbers, rapists, your seventy year old sex-crazed neighbours, any of that you would have been more open to, would have been more preferable than what or more to the point who was actually standing outside your door.

"CHLOE! CHLOE! Oppeen uppp! CHLOE!"

You actually stop and stare at the door like it was the one to make the sounds. No way! Just in no way would that person have the nerve to show up at your home and bang at the door so loud ... she's practically breaking it down ... that's what actually physically brings you to the door, the concern for your door, nothing and no one else.

"Are you trying to wake up my neighbours?" You say angrily as you unlock the door and pull it up open with gusto. "I thought you said you weren't desperate for attention, but what has happened that you felt you had to come to my doorstep in the middle of the night? What do you want? To get some …?"

"Wow, that was mean …" Beca says, from her propped up position on your door jamb. "… but I think I deserved that ... but you deserve some of that too ..."

You narrow your eyes.

"Are you drunk?" You ask but as soon as you say the words you realise you needn't have asked her, you can smell the liquor on her.

"I used to be love drunk … and now I'm hungover ... I'll love you forever … forever is over ... and now I'm sober ..." She starts singing, a wide, loopy grin plastered across her lips and if you weren't sure a while ago, well this truly confirms Beca Mitchell's drunken state!

Okay, she was totally gone ... this was the drunkest you've seen her, and OK, you'd only seen her drunk that one time ... but that was tame compared to this ...

She's leaning and her body's loose and unsteady; a human wriggling jello, on the brink of falling, before she catches herself and straightens up ... she takes one particularly low dip and your arms move quickly trying to catch her.

She rights herself and she's smack up in your face, nose to nose, lips a breath away from the others, and she starts giggling.

"Now this is very familiar ..." She slurs, as she locks her arms around your neck. Your heart's in your throat-

You quickly peel her arms away and pull her up, holding her for a moment until she is steady.

"How'd you get here? Beca? Did Hank drive you?" You ask, slightly confused.

"Nope! Nooo ... I think I've been sitting in my car ... for the last half an hour ... debating whether or not to come up ... and tell you-" she doesn't finish what she was about to say, getting distracted;she's taken one of your tendrils that have slipped loose and she's totally absorbed twirling it idly between her fingers. A small tender smile on her face.

"So what made you? Wait, tell me what?" You say trying to snap her out of it, trying to regain what's left of her attention.

You don't want the contact to last longer than necessary, you quickly untangle her hand from your hair then try to push it away, pull your hand away- but now her right hand is keeping yours trapped in between hers.

She's gripping yours firmly now-not that it hurts, but it's still a strong enough hold to keep you from moving further away. You pull at it uselessly. "Lemme say it-" she says, her eyes are still hazy, but now there's a certain clarity coming from their depths.

"You don't know … how … many times I have ... dreamt about us … us being together …" Beca speaks, looking intently into your eyes, holding the connection strongly. "... and I keep thinking about our … kiss, how I … never ... wanted it to stop, how I … can never stop … looking for you, wanting to just be ... next to you ... so much that I had to physically … wrench … myself away like it was the … scariest thing ever."

Beca's words are slurring together and it makes your chest tighten a little. This is coming from the same girl who gave you a long list (or maybe just several reasons) of why you couldn't be together.

Maybe this is the first and only time she'll be honest and completely unguarded around you ever because apparently what Beca thinks is completely different from what she says, or maybe Beca tended to filter out what she intended to say so many times that even she doesn't know what she originally meant - she wants you, she doesn't want you, she wants to remain friends, she wants something more - and she kissed you (you were there after all) and obviously she wanted to keep doing so.

But what about Jesse? He would keep coming back.

"I keep running away because if I don't ... I'll never want to leave you again ... and because I know it is right ... and wrong ... and … it's so many things." Beca pauses as she struggles to verbalise what's in her head, not used to having to share her thoughts. "I've always had to ... control myself, to never ... allow myself to want things ... too much. Because nothing ever seems ... to last with me ... I've been battling with ... myself and how I've been ... feeling for far too long ... I'm not supposed to ... like you! I can't ... like you Chloe. But, you see … I was screwed the minute I first saw you. One look ... one look into those blue eyes of yours ... and I felt my entire world ... shift. And what the hell? That sounded so lame but it's true."

"Chloe? Who is it? What did they want?" Aubrey calls from behind, you quickly close the door, slightly covering the entrance, where Beca's still standing as you hadn't thought to invite her in yet … wait, did you say standing … more like leaning-Oh God Beca's almost slipping! Your hands are ready to catch her, your bodies already making a move out the door, but Beca pulls herself up just in time, a few seconds from bashing her face into ground. "And where do you think you're going at this late hour?" Aubrey asks in a sharp tone, bringing your attention back to her and her raised perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Uh nothing." You say, your cheeks reddening from the lie on your lips. "I just … um … I feel like taking a quick walk … to clear my head ... I'll uh … be back later … um ... much later."

"You're not going anywhere!" Aubrey states definitively as she joins you by the front door. "Especially with whomever I think it is that is outside."

You hear a giggle from the other side of the door and pull it open to reveal a very bleary eyed Beca who stumbles forward with the loss of firm contact with the door. She leans into your shoulder as she takes a step into your home.

"She's drunk! Look, she's ... I'll just get her home, OK?"

"As much as I absolutely loathe the idea and not really sure why I am even suggesting this but she can stay here ... at least until she gets sobered up. I doubt you want to get into trouble with the paps; drunken celebrity with her supposed girlfriend driving her home, I'm sure they're camping right outside her mansion."

You would have hugged Aubrey then and there if not for Beca's dead weight. You wrap an arm around Beca's shoulders and begin to point her in the direction of your bedroom.

"Ah, ah, ah, not anywhere near your room ... she's staying on the couch ... you go to bed ... lock your door ..."

"Aubrey?"

"I'll look after her. It's fine- She's lucky she's drunk-and that I don't lay it on people who can't think straight. She'll be fine for now.. You on the other hand need to rest."

You close your door to the image of Beca passed out on your couch, your tummy twisting unpleasantly, you feel totally out of sorts; what were you to do with all of that, with all she had said ... why did she have to make everything so freaking complicated.

I can't take it

What am I waiting for?

My heart's still breaking

I miss you even more

And I can't fake it

The way I could before

I hate you but I love you

I can't stop thinking of you

I can't stop thinking of you

It's true I'm stuck on you


So um tell me watcha think. Reviews are always welcome; you can rant, make suggestions or anything at all really.