For Pitch Perfect Horror Week Day 6 - Fears come to life.

Beca knows she probably shouldn't have pissed off the creepy old crone in the witchcraft store. But honestly. The whole thing had been utterly absurd.

Really, it was all Jesse's fault. He'd brought her to the ridiculous little shop in Atlanta, under the delusion that some witchcraft was just what she needed to finally buck up the nerve to tell Chloe she was in love with her.

"Seriously, as your lesbro, I have to do this," he'd insisted.

She really should have known better, especially after finding out that he'd originally gotten the idea from a bumper sticker he's seen that read, "Sorry I missed church – I was too busy practicing witchcraft and becoming a lesbian."

One should never take advice from bumper stickers.

She hadn't known where they were headed – "Some place in Atlanta," Jesse had said vaguely when she had climbed into his car that morning – so she'd had no chance to save herself when Jesse had pulled up in front of "Witchy Witchcrafts: For All Spellbinding Needs."

The store had been pretty over the top, at least in her opinion. There had been all sorts of "magical" devices hanging from the ceiling, tons of colorful books on the shelves, Tarot cards on display, and voodoo dolls situated strategically around the room. The shop owner, a hunched old biddy dressed all in black and with a single front tooth in her mouth, had immediately offered to read her palm and grant her a magic spell. For a hefty price, of course.

In hindsight, Beca probably shouldn't have laughed as loudly as she had.

The woman had been – perhaps understandably – offended, and had started muttering about Beca's "dingy aura," "empty energies," and "shallow soul."

That's when Beca had snapped.

She doesn't really remember what she'd said – and Jesse refused to repeat it – but she vaguely recalls the words "scamming leathery hag" flying from her mouth.

To perhaps no one's surprise, the decrepit old crypt-keeper had placed a curse on Beca right then and there, guaranteeing that her worst fear would come alive. Whatever that means.

Before Beca could (incredibly sarcastically) ask the witch to clarify the terms of her curse, Jesse had wrapped his arms around her waist, picked her up, and carried her from the building.

So, yeah. It had been a bit disastrous. And she still wasn't any closer to telling Chloe how she feels.

Beca knows rationally that nothing the coffin-dodger did could make any difference. Curses aren't real. The whole thing is a load of hooey. But she can't help, as Jesse drops her off back on Barden's campus in time for her afternoon music productions course, glancing around, just to make sure no one is following her.

The thing is. She knows exactly what will appear if the old woman's curse comes true. It's all she can think about.

It's annoying.

She doesn't like it. Even as she walks across the quad toward the building her class is in, she can't escape the growing unease rising in her gut. Her eyes flick side to side, searching for what she's afraid might be there.

She feels like she's being watched, which, dumb. It's the middle of the day on a relatively large campus; there are people everywhere, and at least some of them are probably glancing at her as she walks by. But this is different. She can feel a heavy gaze on her back, sending shivers down her spine and raising the hair on her arms. She walks faster, even though she knows curses aren't real and the whole thing is stupid.

Still, though. Better safe than slashed.

She reaches the building her class is in, stepping inside behind a group of girls. She glances over her shoulder as she walks, making sure no one followed her in.

This is ridiculous.

She turns to watch where she's going, and what she sees makes her heart stop; there's a man kneeling off to the side wearing a blue maintenance suit. Her footsteps stutter and her breath catches – should she scream? Run? – but before she can do anything, the man straightens up and looks directly at her.

Beca's cheeks puff as she sighs in relief; he's a custodian, the same one she typically sees around the building. She's being paranoid.

Annoyed with herself, Beca brushes past the custodian with a tight smile and reaches her classroom quickly. She finds her usual seat by the window and falls into it, resting her elbows on her desk to cradle her head in her hands. The whole thing is absurd. She's letting what that old bag said get to her, even though it was obviously fake and said out of anger.

The whole thing is absurd, and now she's imagining things.

Shaking her head at herself, Beca sits up and reaches for her phone, pulling up the calendar to check her schedule for the rest of the day in an effort to put the curse out of her mind. It isn't bad; just one more class after this one, then home. She doesn't even have Bellas rehearsal, which is a relief.

Without really meaning to, Beca finds herself staring at the date. For Christ's sake, she thinks grumpily, it's not even Friday the 13th. It's Friday the 12th. No reason to get creeped out.

The professor walks into the classroom, a stack of papers under one arm, and Beca reluctantly puts her phone in her pocket. Maybe sitting and listening to her class will help calm her down.

Except it doesn't because the class is boring as all hell – she already knows this stuff – and her mind wanders. All she can think about is that blue maintenance suit and a movie Jesse once forced her to watch. She stares at the back of the head of the guy in front of her, zoning out completely.

A sudden movement catches her eye.

Beca glances out the window automatically and sees it. Him. He's standing far enough away outside that he doesn't draw the attention of anyone else in the class, but still close enough she can make out his features. He's huge and bald, probably almost seven feet tall, wearing boots and a filthy blue maintenance suit. His face, though, is concealed behind a hole-filled, white hockey mask. He isn't holding his axe, but she knows it has to be around somewhere.

He's staring directly at her.

Beca's stomach jolts like she's been punched and she freezes in her chair, fingers gripping the edge of her desk. No way. It's not real. It – he – can't be real. She blinks hard, hoping she's imagining him.

When she opens her eyes, he's stepped even closer to the building.

She has to fight against the urge to scream. She doesn't know whether to run or stay put; no one else in the class has noticed him, but people walking outside certainly have. He's getting some weird looks from students as they walk by, but they probably assume he's a janitor or that it's some kind of prank.

His gaze never wavers from her.

She looks to the professor, then to the door of her class. Should she leave? Where would she go?

Panicking, she glances back out the window, half-expecting his mask to be pressed against the glass, but there's nothing. He's gone. Her eyes search through the crowd of students walking past, but there's no sign of him.

She knows that she hadn't been imagining him; other people had definitely seen him. Her heart races and her palms sweat; she really needs to pee. This is horrible. He's going to pop up again, she just knows it. He'll come through the window or break down the door and go directly at her and – someone in her class sneezes, making her jump violently. Several of her classmates turn to stare at her. She smiles at them shakily, trying not to look insane. Nothing to see here, just a panic attack because some murderer is trying to kill me. It's fine.

She can't walk home. There's no way.

Trying to be sneaky about it because her prof has a weird policy on devices, she reaches for her phone, still in her pocket. She'll text Jesse, or Chloe, or any of the Bellas really. Anyone with a car who could potentially come pick her up after her class, because no way is she headed to her Statistics course after this one.

Chloe's texting conversation is open and she's halfway through typing out a message before she pauses. Texting Chloe – or any of them, really – would be putting them in danger. They would have to come to campus, where the man is. She bites her lip as she realizes; even being around her would put them in danger, because the curse is on her. He is after her, and her alone. As terrifying at that is, she prefers it to stay that way.

She'll have to run for it. There's no other option.

Beca knows what she has to do. She'll skip her next class, run home, grab a bag and pack the essentials. Then, she can catch a cab back to Atlanta and force the old hag to take this weird curse off of her. Perfect. It'll work. And if it doesn't, well, she can stay in Atlanta until she figures out how to get rid of the masked man, because she isn't going to let him linger around the Bella house.

She wants to scream.

Should she leave her class now? Get a head start? She's halfway out of her chair before she realizes that leaving early is a dumb idea; if she waits for her class – and other classes at that same time – to end, there will be more of a crowd for her to use as cover to escape.

Drawing in a deep breath through her nose, she forces herself to remain seated and remain calm. She has to wait. He won't burst into her class; there are way too many of them. Even if he gets to her, he'd have to take out her entire class to escape. No. She's safe where she is.

The seconds tick by slowly. She stares at the clock, simultaneously begging it to speed up and slow down. Her 50-minute class moves by in strange leaps; one second, the professor is droning on about production techniques, then the next he's on a tangent about his wife, and then he's back on task. Finally, after what feels like both forever and too soon, her class is over and everyone around her is standing up.

Mechanically, Beca stands and grabs her bag. Her head is swimming and her heart pounds in her ears; all she can think is run, run, run. Once out in the hallway, she lets herself be absorbed into the crowd and crush of students in the hallway, rather than keeping her distance like she normally would. Her head swivels so much she probably looks like she has some sort of twitch, but there's no sign of a hockey mask or maintenance suit.

She lets the sea of students carry her out of the building and back onto the quad. Still looking around, she breaks away from the crowd to slide between two bushes (there are some benefits of being a small person) and heads in the direction of the Bella house.

Glancing over her shoulder, she doesn't see any sign of him. She risks breaking into a jog, then a full-out sprint. It's a little awkward, because she's half-crouching and trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible while running, but if it keeps him from noticing her, it's worth it.

Her breath comes in harsh gaps, her legs burn, and there's a stitch in her left side, but she keeps going. She needs to get home, get a bag, and get out before he finds her.

Thankfully, the Bella house is close to campus; she's there in minutes. She flies to the front door, fumbles with her keys in the lock, and flings it open. Flinging herself over the threshold, she slams the door behind her, locks it, and immediately presses her eye to the peephole. He's not there. She hadn't been followed.

She sags in relief, exhaling a noisy huff. She's safe.

"Hey!"

"AAUUGHHH!" Beca screams and whirls; she trips over her own feet and falls over.

Chloe screams back, equally startled, but she manages to stay upright.

"WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING?" Beca bellows from the floor, absolutely terrified.

"Because you screamed!" Chloe shrieks back.

"Oh my God," Beca sighs, bringing a shaky hand to her forehead. "This can't be happening."

Chloe bends over and reaches out a hand to pull Beca back up to her feet. "What's happening?" she asks. "Are you okay?"

Beca walks further into the house, eyes scanning for anything amiss. "Um…" she trails off, unsure of how much to tell Chloe.

"Beca?"

The house seems secure, so that's good. She should really just head upstairs and pack, as was her original plan, but she hadn't counted on Chloe being home, obviously skipping her Russian Lit class yet again. That complicates things; what if she'd put Chloe in danger by coming back? At least none of the others are home, as they should all still be in class.

"Beca. What is happening?" Chloe repeats, an edge to her voice now as she stands in the middle of their living room, her eyes on Beca as she peers anxiously out the windows.

Beca pauses before looking out the last side window. She grimaces, now wondering if she should take Chloe with her to Atlanta. Maybe that would be safer than leaving her here, but then, what if the man just keeps following her? But what if he comes to the house looking for her?

"Beca Mitchell, you answer me this instant!" Chloe actually stomps her foot this time.

Beca sighs, still unsure, but she says, "Look, Chloe, there's someone…"

Her voice fades away as she looks out the last window. He's there. Standing not even 20 feet away on the sidewalk, still in that blue maintenance suit and hockey mask, but now carrying a long axe with a stained blade. They make eye contact through the holes in his mask.

The air rushes from Beca's lungs and she almost falls again, her knees turning to jelly. She forces herself to turn back to Chloe and shouts, "He's after me, Chlo, look! We need to leave now!"

Instead of appearing panicked, though, Chloe's brows furrow in confusion. She asks, "What are you talking about?" and moves closer to Beca at the window.

Automatically, Beca grabs her arm and tries to drag her away before the man can see her too, but it's too late; Chloe's gazing out the window.

"Okay, it's okay," Beca tries to reassure her, still tugging on her arm. "We can run from him, we can get in your car and I can fix this, I –"

"Beca," Chloe interrupts, still looking out the window. "There's no one outside."

"What?!" Beca's face snaps around so quickly she hears her neck pop. She stares out the window at the exact place she'd last seen him, but he's gone. Vanished. Poof.

"No, no, no," Beca babbles, wave after wave of terror washing through her. "He's – he's in the house, or hiding, or, I don't know. We just need to leave, okay?" and she tugs on Chloe's arm again, desperate for her to understand.

"No, not 'okay,'" Chloe says, digging her heels into the floor. "Beca. You're seriously scaring me. There's no one there."

"It's – but –" Beca splutters, trying to get Chloe to understand. For a horrifying moment, she wonders if she's seeing things, but then remembers that other students on campus had obviously seen him. He's there, just hiding.

"What you need," Chloe speaks over her, "is some food and juice. Your blood sugar must be low, yeah?"

"Oh, but–"

"Beca," Chloe says firmly, dragging her to the kitchen with surprising strength, "you need to sit down and eat something. You're all pale and sweaty."

"Chloe," Beca says with a forced calm as Chloe practically shoves her into a chair and starts digging in the fridge, "You have to listen to me. I pissed off a witch, and she cursed me so my fears come to life, okay?"

Chloe hums, only half-listening.

"And now that fear is a giant dude with an axe trying to murder me. He's been following me around all afternoon!" her voice rises hysterically as her stomach churns with terror.

"Do you want a banana?" Chloe asks, stepping away from the fridge and closing it.

Throwing her hands up in frustration, Beca groans, "Have you even been listening to me?"

Chloe nods, grabbing a banana from the counter and setting it, along with some ham and cheese on a plate in front of Beca. "I heard you," she says. "But I really find it hard to believe that some curse is making a guy with an axe chase you."

Beca wants to scream; she and Chloe should both be packing and running for the hills.

She stands up from her chair and, ignoring Chloe's pointed glare, says, "It's true, and we need to leave. I'm going to pack a bag for both of us, so is there anything you need?"

Chloe rolls her eyes. "Beca, I really think you're imagining it."

But Beca's done listening; she half-jogs out of the kitchen and starts up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

The sound of shattering glass and a bloodcurdling scream makes her trip. She tumbles down the steps to land hard on her back, the wind rushing from her lungs. But she doesn't care about that, because from where she's laying she can see the cause of the commotion, and it makes her blood run cold.

The man in the hockey mask is climbing through their broken kitchen window, using the sink to pull himself through with one hand while the other clutches the axe. Chloe's already moving; she lunges for the plate of snacks Beca had left at the table and hurls it like a frisbee at his head, the ham and cheese spinning from it and flying across the room. Beca kind of wishes Chloe had gone for the knives instead, but they were right next to the sink, so that wasn't really an option. The plate crashes into his mask, shattering on impact, but it only makes him pause and turn his face to Chloe.

Shit.

"Shit!" Chloe swears and sprints to Beca's side. "Get up, get up, we have to go!"

Absurdly, Beca wants to say, "I told you so," but she's still winded, so all she can do is wheeze as for the second time that day, Chloe hauls her to her feet. Chloe drags her up the stairs at top speed and onto the second landing. She's headed for her bedroom, but Beca stops her; that's the first place the man will look.

Instead, Beca pulls that door shut loudly, hoping he'll hear the slam, and she tugs Chloe the opposite direction on the landing and toward the hallway supply closet. Chloe hesitates outside the closet door for an instant before they hear the unmistakable sound of heavy boots hitting a tiled floor. Immediately, Chloe springs back to action and bundles them both into the small closet. Beca eases the door closed behind them quietly, not wanting him to hear the telltale click of the latch, and they're plunged into darkness amongst rolls of toilet paper, soap, and extra shampoo.

"A closet? Really?" Chloe's frantic whisper fills the space between them, her breaths coming in gasps. Strangely, her panic serves to calm Beca, bringing her mind into sharp focus.

"He'd have checked your room," Beca breathes, finally feeling air refill her lungs after her tumble down the stairs. "We have to be quiet."

"But my room has a window!" Chloe whisper-shrieks. "That's where I was headed! Beca, there's a man with an axe chasing us!"

"I told you so," Beca blurts before she can stop herself. A window. Duh. That would have been better.

"Shut up," Chloe hisses. "He's coming up the stairs."

Sure enough, Beca can hear every heavy footfall up the steps. She feels Chloe shrink back to press herself against the back wall of the closet and she shifts so she's between Chloe and the door. Hopefully, if the man really just wants her, he'll leave Chloe alone.

"Oh no you don't," Chloe breathes into the back of her neck, and Beca feels arms wrap around her waist and pull her back until she's right next to Chloe. "No heroics today, Bec."

She wants to argue, but they can't talk anymore; the man has reached the landing. She hears his thick breaths, rattling through the mask. She covers her own mouth with a hand, stifling any noises she might make, and feels Chloe do the same next to her.

She hears him walk down the hall, right past their closet and to the furthest bedroom beyond them. The sound of lightly squeaking door hinges reaches her ears and she's never been more grateful that no other Bellas are home.

He doesn't take long to search Jessica and Ashley's room, and Lilly and Cynthia-Rose's is next. Another opening door, then silence while he must be looking for them. He steps next to Stacie's bedroom, which is across the hall from their supply closet. Again, it doesn't take him long and she hears him step out of the bedroom.

The footsteps stop right outside their closet, and she can see his shadow at the crack under the door. Beca looks around frantically, but unless toilet paper can be used as a weapon, they have nothing to defend themselves with. Chloe is stiff as a board next to her, her fingers digging into Beca's waist. Beca is sure the man must hear their hearts beating; hers is hammering against her rib cage traitorously.

She can picture him standing outside, staring at the door. Can picture him reaching a gloved hand forward, the other raising the axe in preparation. Can imagine the door handle moving, the door swinging open, the axe descending.

She wants to cry and throw up.

But he walks away. By some miracle, the man's footsteps head away from their closet, moving beyond the stairs and to the bathroom, after which he would reach Chloe's room.

Chloe sags beside her; Beca glances over. Her eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness to make out the relief in Chloe's expression, and the sweat on her forehead. Guilt floods her veins; this is all her fault.

"Listen," Beca whispers as quietly as she can, Chloe's eyes finding hers. "He's only after me. I bet if I make a break for it, he'll follow me, and you can –"

But Chloe's already shaking her head. "No, absolutely not. You can't go out there, that's completely insane."

"Chloe, I'm trying to save –"

"I know, and I'm telling you it's not happening. Don't even think about it," Chloe glares at her, hard. Beca's stunned by the fire she sees in those blue eyes.

"If we run, we run together," Chloe says firmly. "Got it?"

Annoyed, Beca nods reluctantly. Chloe shouldn't have to take the fall for her stupid mistake, but there's no time to change her mind.

"Fine, let's head for Ashley and Jessica's window once he gets to your room, okay?" Beca whispers. "I think it's our only chance, and he's already looked there."

She sees the fear in Chloe's face, but she knows they have to move. He'll almost certainly search the closet after finishing in Chloe's room.

"Okay," Chloe whispers, her voice cracking.

Together they listen closely; Beca hears him leave the bathroom, his footsteps travelling to Chloe's room. The door opens with a squeak and they hear him walk in.

"Now!" Beca hisses, and she opens the closet door slowly, careful to not let it hit the wall. Chloe flies past her and into the far room down the hall. Beca steps out, closes the closet door quietly, heart in her mouth, and follows Chloe as silently as possible.

Amazingly, he doesn't seem to have noticed them, as he's still in Chloe's room. Beca joins Chloe at the window in Ashley and Jessica's room, helping her to ease the glass up quietly. Luckily, the screen pops out easily, falling with a soft crunch into the bushes below.

"Dangle and drop, yeah?" Chloe asks, moving aside for Beca to go first.

"Yeah, but I think you should go –"

"No time, Beca, just get out the damn window."

Being interrupted is getting irritating. Nevertheless, Beca eases her legs out the window, and Chloe helps her get turned around. She lowers herself gradually, thankful for Bellas workouts, until she's dangling by her fingertips. She doesn't let herself think about it, but drops to the ground immediately, landing in a crouch. It doesn't feel great, but she doesn't break anything.

She waits anxiously for Chloe. It takes much too long for comfort, but soon Chloe's legs are dangling outside, then the rest of her body, and she drops to the ground beside Beca, staggering a little on impact.

"See?" Chloe huffs out once she's steady. "Nothing to it."

"I give it a ten out of ten. Now let's get the fuck out of here," Beca says dryly. "We'll take a cab or something, I don't care."

"Sounds good to me," Chloe agrees, and they start jogging around the house and to the road.

Except.

They skid to a stop, Beca clutching Chloe's arm; the old crone from the Atlanta shop is standing in their front yard facing them, a smug smile on her wrinkled face.

"Apologize," she croaks out, staring into Beca's soul.

"That's all you have to say?" Beca spits back. "After you try to kill me, you want me to apologize?"

Chloe tugs on her arm urgently. "Beca, just do it," she whines. "It'll make it all stop."

Beca grimaces; she doesn't like the idea of groveling to this old bat, crazy axe murderer or not.

"Do it," the witch croaks out. "Or witness as I make all your friends' fears come to life, too."

The witch waves her arm and horrible visions flash in front of Beca's eyes, one after the other: Emily sprinting away from giant, hairy spiders – Amy stranded on the roof of a high building, paralyzed by the height – Flo crouching, her arms protecting her head as silvery, wispy ghosts swoop around her – Cynthia-Rose screaming in terror as zombies erupt from the ground in front of her – Jessica holding a long wooden stake and crouching behind a wall as a man with long fangs searches for her in the house – Ashley running from a grotesque, fully costumed clown with a chainsaw – Lilly doing the "stop, drop, and roll" as hundreds of Monarch butterflies land on her body – Stacie in a straightjacket, babbling nonsense as she's led to a van by two large men dressed in white – Aubrey answering a door and being handed her father's folded up flag – Jessie trapped in his bedroom by a massive fire – and finally Chloe, standing alone and watching an alternative Beca, both more beautiful and frightening than the real Beca, pull up on a massive black Harley Davidson motorcycle, some faceless person seated behind her; Beca watches as the vision of herself twists around on the bike to press their lips together in a sensual kiss. A diamond glimmers on her left ring finger.

And then it stops.

The visions leave as soon as they'd come and Beca falls to her knees, disoriented.

"Bec, Beca, get up, we have to run, he's coming –" Chloe's hands scrabble at her upper arms, trying to hoist her up. She hadn't seen what Beca had seen, hadn't had to witness the Bella's worst fears. Beca looks up at the witch staring at her, then glances back beyond Chloe to see the man in the blue maintenance suit walking toward them across the yard, axe held high; he'd found them.

"Fine!" Beca yells, staring into the witch's black eyes. "I apologize! I'm sorry I exploded at you and called you a scamming leathery hag! I'm sorry!"

The old woman smiles down at her sweetly. "Yes," she says. "You are."

Beca hears Chloe's scream, and is thrown sideways by a shove; the ghost of an axe swooshes down where she'd been kneeling, vaporizing along its path. Beca cranes her neck over her shoulder to see the man in the maintenance suit standing behind her, but fading away, soon dissolving away into nothingness.

Beyond where he'd stood, Chloe stands staring at the spot he'd disappeared in shock. Warmth rushes through Beca; it's over, and Chloe's safe.

"That's all I wanted," the old woman's voice cuts through the air. "Don't insult me or my craft again, child."

The woman turns away and waves her arm once. Seemingly out of nowhere, a black hearse pulls up to the curb. She hobbles over to it, back hunched with age, then pulls open the passenger door and climbs in. With one last glance at Beca, she rasps out, "Learn from what you've seen. At least one of those fears can be altered, if you know what to do."

She hauls the door closed behind her with a thud, and the hearse pulls away and out of sight.

Beca lets her body collapse to the ground with a groan and throws an arm over her eyes. "You okay?" she asks loudly, feeling Chloe's eyes on her.

"Yeah," Chloe's timid voice answers. "Are you?"

"Ugh."

She hears soft footsteps, so different from the man's clunky boots, head toward her. There's a pause, then the sound of movement; Beca lifts her arm and cracks one eye open in time to see Chloe crouch, then sprawl out on her back next to her so they're both laying in the grass.

"So that was a thing," Chloe says, her voice surprisingly steady.

"Yep," Beca replies, popping the 'p'. "Are you freaking out?"

"Not really," Chloe answers thoughtfully. "Though, in the future, I suggest not offending an actual witch with actual magic powers."

"Thanks for that," Beca deadpans.

"Mmm."

They lie on the ground in silence for a few beats. Beca's mind spins; she's shaken by the horrific scenes the woman had implanted in her mind. People's worst fears are private, and while things like zombies and giant spiders are less personal, the fear of a parent dying or of mental illness is on a different level. And Chloe's fear….

"What did she mean?" Chloe's voice interrupts her thoughts. "What did she show you? You kind of went all weird for a few seconds there."

Beca blows out a slow breath, not sure what to say. Though, she supposes, in this case, the truth might be the best.

"I saw everyone's fears," she says slowly, carefully. "Everyone's worst fears come to life, like mine did."

She feels something tickling her hand and looks down between their bodies to see Chloe's fingers toying with her own.

"Did you see mine?" Chloe asks in a forced casual tone that makes Beca wince.

"I… yeah. I did," Beca answers, her face warming at the admission. She knows what it means. She'd been stupid not to realize sooner.

Chloe's fingers shake against hers. Beca almost wants to laugh; even while being chased by a masked man with an axe, Chloe's fingers hadn't trembled like they do now.

"So, you know, then," Chloe's voice is more strained than it had been even following her nodes surgery. "How I feel."

Beca isn't good with words. She knows that about herself. So, rather than speaking and risking saying something stupid, Beca props herself up on her elbow and leans to hover her lips an inch over Chloe's. She feels Chloe's gasp, can practically hear her brain whirring, and Beca wants nothing more than to close the distance between them but she forces herself to wait, wanting Chloe to make the decision.

After a long, agonizing heartbeat, Chloe tilts her face up to press their lips together in a kiss that warns Beca's body and sends tingles down into her limbs. One hand lands on her hip and another cups her cheek and Beca can't help it; she smiles into the kiss and feels Chloe do the same. It's unorthodox, maybe, but it's pretty much the best kiss of all time.

They break apart when the kiss comes to a natural end, and Beca lets herself fall onto her back again, though she scoots until her side is pressed right against Chloe's.

"I think it's safe to say I know, yeah," Beca says with a smile, turning her head to look at Chloe. "Is that okay with you?"

Chloe beams back. "Yeah. I think I can live with this."

"Good," Beca nods seriously. "Because now that we've done that, I can't imagine anything else."

They stay like that for a while, just looking at each other. If it were anyone besides Chloe, Beca figures it would have been weird as hell, but with Chloe, everything seems natural.

Which is why the sound of a car door slamming startles them both. Beca picks up her head to see Stacie stepping away from her car and striding toward the Bella house. She barely spares them a glance, only calling out "Weirdos," before walking through the front door.

"They'll be excited when we tell them," Chloe whispers, and Beca nods. If she knows the Bellas, news of her and Chloe finally getting together will be the event of the year.

"Umm," Stacie's voice sounds from inside the house. "Why is the window broken?"

Beca grins; she has quite the story to tell.