I don't own pitch perfect
Chloe's POV
You are drunk. You shouldn't have drunk this much.
It feels good. Nice. Beca is here. Why is she here? She is pretty... She is really pretty.
'You are really pretty, Bec.'
'Can I call you Bec?.'
'Chloe.. You should..'
'Of course I can call you Bec!'
'Yeah.. You are pretty Bec.'
'You should sleep Chloe.'
'No. I don't want to. Let's talk.'
'We'll talk in the morning. Now go to sleep Chlo.'
'But I don't want to sleep.'
'Chloe listen.. '
'No, you listen. Do you have any idea who I am? I am Chloe. Chloe Beal. And when I talk you listen. Do you understand? '
She nods. Good. She understands.
'Good.' you say.
But suddenly you don't feel good anymore. It begins to hurt, right in your chest, where your heart beats. Was the drink spiked? Did someone poison your drink? But if it is poisoned, it should hurt the stomach, right?
'No one poisoned your drink Chloe.'
She looks amused. How did she know what you were thinking? You are annoyed. Who does she think she is?
'I don't think I'm anyone Chlo.'
You like that nick name.
Hell how did she knew what you were thinking. Again!
She is laughing. You scowl. (Or does its drunken, sloppy version)
'Chloe, you are thinking loud. You are talking.'
'I am?'
'Yes, you are. It is too late Chloe. You should sleep.'
'I said I won't.'
'Okay.. What do you want Chloe?' she looks annoyed.
'I want to talk. And you listen when Chloe talks!'
'Yeah, you already mentioned that.'
Is she smirking? How dare she?
'Chloe I can still hear you.'
She is smiling again.
'Oh.'
You are silent. The pain in the chest is back again. And suddenly you remember why it hurts. And it hurts a lot. You remember why you were drinking. Alone. Sad. Angry. Depressed. And everything rushes back.
'I lost my mother this day, fifteen years back.' You whisper.
Beca isn't smiling. Not anymore.
'She died.. In a car crash.. It was so bad they didn't even let me see her one last time.' You sob. The pain in your chest increasing.
'I wish I could see her one last time. Tell her how much I loved her. Just one last time!' You take deep breaths.
'Every year I wish for it. But she never came.' You wipe your tears. You are straight out crying.
'She never came.'
'Chloe..'
And then you begin to hiccup. She quickly gets a glass of water and makes you take a sip. After a few sips you push the glass away. Tears spill down your cheeks. She puts the glass on the bed side table and moves forward to hug you. She holds you.
It is still hurting. Hurting a lot. But somehow it hurts a little less. Now that she is holding you.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
You are awake. But you don't want to wake up yet. You are exhausted. Your head is pounding. Everything hurts. And once again you miss your mom. She won't be coming. The realization is still like a punch to the gut. It's been fifteen years. You are supposed to be over it. But you don't think people ever get over the loss of their loved ones. They just learn to live with it. And most of the day you live. But yesterday was too much.
You open your eyes. You are on your bed. You remember going out alone. You don't take company just that day of the year. You had drunk too much. Dance too much. When did you get back? How did you get back?
Is that Beca? What is she doing here? Why is she on your bed side chair - sleeping? And the realization hits you, along with your memories.
Shit!
