Chapter 17
The night skies were kind on that particular day as Beca stands in front of hundreds in attendance at Victor Barden's memorial ceremony. Earlier, it had been predicted to rain as dark clouds rumbled by but as the outdoor event started the skies started to clear and bless them with a starry night.
The five elite families stood in the front rows while the members of the newly formed council stood behind Beca on stage. As for the Du Pont, this would mark her first ever public appearance as the crowned queen. She even finds it ironic that of all events it had to be about death.
Death, the only constant companion she had ever since. Sometimes, it had been an enemy looming in the shadows. Sometimes, an old friend visiting her in times when she would feel particularly sentimental. Tonight happens to be the latter.
An hour ago, in attempt to avoid as much attention as possible, despite it being useless as everyone was already too curious to see 'the young queen who saved Corvinn Castle', Beca had opted a much more discreet entrance. She had went in from the back of the stage instead of the traditional entrance at the center, through the middle of the crowd. Maybe it was also because she was too hungover to make a grand entrance.
Last morning had been one of her wildest mornings in a long time, partying until her legs gave up on her, drinking until she passed out and sharing body heat with somebody she doesn't even remember who in between all of it. As a matter of fact, it had only been four hours since she stumbled back in the West Wing's Du Pont manor, smelling like alcohol, cigarettes and sex.
Of course she gets a long and serious reprimanding by the council's elders on top of her raging headache. And like the annoying, sarcastic ball of shit that she is known to be, Beca simply gives them a nod and a smirk that shows not even an inch of remorse. She even bets that by now somebody is already plotting her assassination so the rightful crowned royalty can replace her because unfortunately, Beca is to remain queen until she reaches 21. So, two more years then.
Or in Beca's words, 'two more fucking years'.
Adjusting her sunglasses, she tries to focus on the speeches being said from chosen Victor Barden staff, students and family members of the victims of what is dubbed the 'Victor Barden Massacre'. In a couple of minutes, it'll be Beca's turn to stand behind the podium to talk about something inspiring, to move hearts and ease the pain. Beca scoffs at the idea because she'll be damned if ever she found the right words that would magically make everyone feel better. She can't even deal with her own so it's baffling that whatever nonsense she speaks out of the script given to her would move them.
How people deem her as a worthy leader still bemuses her. After all, she's just some reckless a 19 year old who is addicted to alcohol and is unable to confront her own problems without resorting to distractions or fist fights.
Staring down on the papers—an actual two page essay one of her advisers made—that she'd be reading out loud, like a pre-schooler, Beca breathes out a heavy sigh and fights the urge to massage her temples in order to soothe her ongoing headache. Her advisers had strictly implied that, 'people will be watching you closely' and seriously, it only makes the painful throbbing worse. That, and the brewing anxiety and nervousness of speaking in front of a large audience is making her want to run to Hawaii instead.
Beca had always been good at leading tactical operations, infiltration, espionage and strategizing attacks. But not this, this inspirational political shit speeches. She had always been bad at public speaking—not to be confused with her ability to flirt in public, one that she is very well versed in, and a different topic to be delved upon some other time. Besides, it was easier for her to woo a woman to bed than be all likeable and charismatic to hundreds of people.
Fortunately, she doesn't trip on her way to the podium—thank god—nor does she stutter when uttering her first few words. She could actually just go through the whole thing without a glitch, get an applause and walk away but as she looks up at the crowd she pauses. Her dark blues hidden underneath her sunglasses land on more than a hundred pair of eyes staring back at her. Teary eyes that are filled with the hope that she could lead them, hope that she would have the ability to assure them that they can trust her. Her gaze falls upon the young children in the crowd. Too young to understand that one or both their parents will never come back home ever again. That their older siblings won't be able to return from college and things won't ever come back to the way it was.
Beca had now lost both her parents in unnatural ways. Both murdered to protect their family and the people. The same people who are now looking up at her. This ceremony was for them and for the people who were taken away from this world too early, some of whom were in Beca's classes and some who she might have randomly bumped into, those innocent people who didn't deserve what happened to them.
They didn't deserve a two page worth of words she didn't even write.
She, most of all, is supposed to know what it's like, what it feels to be in their shoes. And she knew this was no way to ease their pain. The realization comes in waves, memories of her parent's funerals, crashing towards her all at once. It stuns her to silence.
Having thought that her earlier behaviour, brought about by her whole day of partying, was now causing this minor hiccup at such an important event, one of her advisers gets up to come to her aide. Probably even blaming it on her inexperience to such matters.
But without even looking, Beca was quick to raise up her hand to dismiss him as she takes a few deep breathes and clears her throat. She pushes the papers in front of her aside before looking up at the crowd. She quickly spots her cousins—who have all tackled her down the ground upon seeing her and held her like that for almost an hour as they all cried ugly tears while she cursed at them repeatedly—before finally glancing towards beautiful baby blues, gently urging her to keep going and say what her heart wanted to say. That she's not alone. She was never alone. That if ever she needed someone to lean on and hold on to, she'll be there. Beca swallows hard and nods.
"I'm sorry," she finally says faintly, inhaling deeply before speaking once more. This time louder and clearer.
"I'll never be half as good of a leader as my father, the late Darius Du Pont, was or even the leaders before him. I lack experience and at times brash in my actions. I even lack the ability to say the right words to you all at such a dark time like tonight," she slowly admits, aware of the murmuring and gasping from the back by her advisers and council members. Her sudden off the script stunt is probably going to get her another three hour reprimanding but it's too late to take it all back now.
She doesn't want to take it back either.
"I don't want to hide anything from you and act all proud and mighty. Because all of you deserve the truth," she pauses once more to turn her head towards the large mural. Names, photos of loved ones that had left and dedications from those who were left behind filled the entire wall. On top of all them, a photo of her father, Darius looking much younger and filled with life. A rare photo of him smiling lightly, taken by none other than Beca's mother, Robbyn. He looked happier.
Beca remembers that moment. She was there. They were enjoying a lazy afternoon at their patio where she kept pulling her father by the hand as she excitedly walks around the garden to catch butterflies with him while her mother kept snapping photos.
"But why can't I keep them?"
"Because if you don't let them go, they'll die,"
"But I can take care of them! I'll feed them every day and give them tons of love, father,"
"I know you will. But they aren't yours to keep, Rebecca. They have their own families and friends. Also, they are in love with the flowers which is why you can't tear them apart because it'll break their hearts,"
"I don't want to break the butterflies hearts but I really want one,"
"When you love something, sometimes you need to set them free so they can be happy. You'll understand that one day. But you don't have to be sad, you can always visit them here, in the garden, where they can play with you. You are after all as pretty as a flower, my little rose,"
Beca balls up her fists at the memories, those happier, simpler times. Pulling herself away from them, she faces the crowd once more.
"And the truth is, I cannot do this alone," she confesses, voice slightly wavering at the end.
"I tried that many times it has brought nothing to me but failure," she looks down, head hanging low as she swallows the lump in her throat and blinks back the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. When she feels ready to continue, only does she raise up her head once more.
"I need your help. We all need each other because I have to admit, it's not easy getting up your feet again after something as horrible as this. But," she breathes in deep, gaining more confidence as she goes on. "Trust me as I say this. We will stand up again," she nods with much conviction.
"I've been there before. I've fallen countless times, to the point where I didn't want to climb back up again anymore," she takes another deep breathe as another memory is triggered, the center of her chest aching.
"But if it wasn't for those gentle arms that held me and lifted me back up again then I wouldn't be standing in front of you now. I don't know what you believe in but I'm sure of one thing,"
"Love always kills evil,"
Her eyes connect with warm baby blues before averting them quickly as she straightens up to clear her head. Her tone becoming more formal now as she speaks.
"With that, I offer my sincerest condolences to the families that are grieving. I will not promise you anything grand only that, as your queen, I shall take care and protect you to the best of my abilities," she says in a firm tone.
"Even if it costs me my life," she lets out. People can say whatever they want about her tonight, take whatever they want to take out of this but she meant every word.
Stepping down, she starts to walk back to her seat when her feet suddenly stop at the sound she hears.
"Loyalty to the queen!" a voice yells out before one by one the crowd slowly kneels down leaving Beca awkwardly gaping at the sight before her. A sight she still believes she doesn't deserve.
They say such gesture had been rare especially in the modern times and the feeling is so overwhelming that Beca takes it with her even until the formal dinner that follows afterwards. It is being held at the newly repaired grand hall of Victor Barden's West Wing.
Sitting at the center of the long table with the members of the council, facing the guests who were all seated in circular tables around the room, Beca ignores her blood wine as she absentmindedly pokes at her food until she is formally introduced to important figures that come up to her table one by one to pay their respects. By the third person, she is already smiling half-heartedly. She never one to be so good at faking warm and welcoming especially in social events like this but at least she can look unreadable. Better that way than offending someone.
Beca knows her responsibilities fully well. They come first and now that she's suddenly having this new sense of awareness of what she had been signed up for, she's starting to be careful of how she acts in public. No more crazy stunts and immature decisions. But then when it comes to privacy, oh how she badly wants to crawl into a dark room where she can finally breathe properly. To breathe on her own without the cameras following her and hundreds of pairs of eyes judging her every move. But again, responsibilities come first and she's left with no choice but to sit, shake hands and smile tiredly at people.
"Thomas Vanderbilt, heir to the Vanderbilt seat with his lovely girlfriend, Chloe Beale," her assistant announces to her next.
The name instantly wakes Beca up from her sleepy state and longing thoughts of crawling back to her bed in this very second. The possibility of her entering into hibernation after this event is extremely high and no other apocalyptic emergency is going to convince her to get up.
Standing up to face the Vanderbilts, she immediately schools her features and tries to control the loud thumping of her heart. It has been a week since her short trip to the pet shop. A week since she confirmed how she's still completely and helplessly in love with Chloe Beale. How pathetically weak she gets against the power Chloe holds on her. It's too strong.
Uncontrollable.
"Your highness," Tom greets in a formal tone as he extends his hand towards her for a brief handshake.
Beca had quickly declined the traditional kneeling down and kissing the hand of crowned royalty because it's all too much for her and she'd rather crash her beloved car to a tree than do so. She's the queen, that she knows, but she's also aware that not everyone likes her and again, she'd rather go sip on coconut juice in Hawaii than go around kissing ass like those other politicians.
"Thomas Vanderbilt," she speaks and there's tension in the air.
Nobody is surprised to be honest. It's a natural reaction between two rival families. Looking back, it must've drove everyone crazy to have seen her mother, Robbyn Du Pont, walk up to the Vanderbilts with a genuine smile and sincere gestures. Having unaccustomed to the rivalry and the vampire culture for the reason of being 'turned' at the age of 25 by Beca's father, Robbyn hadn't had any issues with the Vanderbilts. She never taught the young Beca to hate or be wary of the their long standing rivals. Instead, she had emphasized friendship, love and unity.
Robbyn Du Pont would've probably changed the rocky relationship between the Vanderbilts and the Du Ponts. She had started something beautiful. She was the reason Beca met Chloe, introducing the Vanderbilt as Beca's new best friend.
If only she hadn't left so early.
Then maybe there could've been a chance.
"You've met Chloe, my girlfriend," Tom emphasizes and Beca tries to remain still as he lays a protective hand around Chloe's waist, keeping the redhead close to him. It's as if Beca would be ready to snatch her from his grasp if he lets go. However, it only makes the Du Pont want to mess with him more.
This night is getting boring after all and there's a very beautiful opportunity to piss of a Vanderbilt laid upon her right now. It'd be such a waste to let it pass by.
A little fun wouldn't hurt.
"Don't be ridiculous, Thomas," she quickly replies with a light tone as if they'd been friends for years. "Of course, I know her," she smirks. Her eyebrows arching up in amusement. This time it's she, herself, who offers her hand towards the redhead, an honour bestowed to only a few. It's uncommon for the crowned royalty to offer her hand first and is only done when awarding officers of highest rank, those who have served the crown for years, special members of the community and of course, to the person who would eventually sit next to the throne, the queen's mate.
Chloe's hand meets hers instantly and a sudden burst of energy fills Beca's tired body as if the redhead had known she needed it badly. It felt like drinking a cup of warm delicious coffee along with a soothing back massage.
"You already know that we've been closely acquainted before," she adds before smoothly bringing Chloe's hand up and pressing it to her lips, placing a gentle kiss on smooth skin. The effect is just what Beca wants to achieve as Tom's face hardens at the gesture. And besides, anything to make those soft red lips in front of her curve lightly into a genuine smile and those baby blues twinkle in amusement.
It's mesmerizing and she forgets that Tom is with them. It's only when he mutters something about the event which Beca doesn't really catch does she give him her partial attention before releasing Chloe's hand.
Time's up. The fun is over but at least Beca can carry the extra energy, no matter how small, until the night ends.
She then tries to avoid looking back at those baby blues as she and Tom head down into a conversation that mostly contains half-hearted compliments. But at least it's all civil and most importantly, short. Before she knows it, they are bidding each other farewell and all that stuff that would make her roll her eyes in any normal day. At least, she can finally sit down again and continue carving the small chunk of butter on her plate with her knife.
"Wait," Chloe suddenly says eyeing Beca. Next to her, the look of surprise in Tom's face was clear as he looks at her intently.
"I need to talk to Bec—I mean, I'd like to request an audience with her highness. It's regarding that important bill I had proposed," she throws out so casually as if she had been planning to do say it all night.
Beca doesn't reply immediately to the unexpected request. It was, well, unexpected.
"Your highness must be tired. This isn't the occasion for such matters," Tom says in a low warning tone yet Chloe doesn't budge. Even as he tries to pull her away with him, she remains still. Her eyes intently looking at her as if Beca's decline to the request was the only thing that could make her leave.
And how does one say no to those eyes?
Beca knows it'll complicate everything. She knows she should say no.
She should but she couldn't.
"No," she blurts out. "I'm never tired for important matters regarding the welfare of those under my care. Besides," she glances at Tom as she explains in hopefully a sincere tone. "It surely won't take long,"
Looking back at Chloe for confirmation, she finally exhales as the redhead eagerly nods in agreement. "Of course, your highness," she answers promptly, retracting her hand away from Tom's grip and taking a few steps towards Beca, who in turns motions for the Vanderbilt to lead the way. Tom's piercing look is telling that he doesn't approve of it but Beca has stopped caring about everything else at this point.
A couple more minutes with Chloe probably won't hurt. She'd savour it until it ends. Even though a part of her is anxious on spending time alone with the Vanderbilt whom she has avoided all week. Truth is, she hasn't seen Chloe not because she was too busy but because she chose not to despite the strong desire to see her. Instead, she turns to alcohol and other distractions to curb whatever her heart truly craves. Drowning herself in distractions to kill the longing.
She doesn't know anymore.
Chloe leads her to one of the rooms, one of the offices meant for receiving guests who would either like to inquire about the school or apply for a position.
Closing the door behind her, Beca gets straight to the point. Better to get it over with quickly as possible anyway.
"I've actually reviewed it and I think that—"
She doesn't get to finish her words as the Vanderbilt turns to her and reaches for her glasses, taking it off her face. This suddenly makes Beca feel conscious, her mask ripped out, leaving her open and bare. And if it were someone else they'd be down on the ground with their throats sliced open. But this isn't just someone and Beca Mitchell is powerless against Chloe Beale.
"That's equivalent to life imprisonment, Beale," she points out in a monotonous tone. Chloe steps closer towards her and Beca doesn't know exactly what to say next.
It's torture.
To be this close yet so far at the same time.
Beca deems that this kind of torture is what she hates the most.
"You look terrible," Chloe murmurs, worried eyes search her face and Beca had to look somewhere else from the intense scrutiny.
"You just disrespected me and now you're insulting me. That's two counts of life imprisonment now, idiot," she replies, stepping away from the close proximity. She then scans the room for something drink, preferably something strong. She needs one now.
"And you're hungover. You've been out all day, getting drunk," Chloe observes and Beca mentally curses the connection they share.
"Splendid observation skills you got there, Beale," she sarcastically says. "Ever thought of enlisting for the royal security? They clearly need fresh young minds. You should see how thick the cobwebs in the investigative department are," she mutters before cursing, this time under her breath, as she realizes that whoever owns this office leads such a healthy boring lifestyle due to the absence of a secret alcohol stash.
In the end, she settles in front of the desk, leaning back against it as she finally faces Chloe who crosses her arms in front of her chest, looking down as she shakes her head.
"Am I about to get reprimanded now?" Beca asks, interpreting the gesture as disappointment—she gets that often. "Because I just had a lot of those earlier this evening and I slept through it all which I'll probably do again if such reprimanding is given again," she explains before adding. "Also, you're on your third count of life sentence. Congratulations, you made it to the top list of the government's enemies. That's actually once a dream of mine," she muses as she distantly looks up at the ceiling. She smirks as she hears Chloe exhale heavily.
She expects a retort any time now, one that would turn into one of their three hour debates but she doesn't get one. Instead, Chloe gives her a look, the kind that makes Beca clench her fists in attempt to restrain herself from giving in. Because that's how Chloe used to look at her when she's about to give her one of those hugs that takes all of her pain away. Beca calls it the 'please let me hug you until you feel better and also will you hug me back too?' look.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Chloe softly asks because of course she feels it. The heaviness in Beca's heart. She always knows.
She's the only one who knows
"No," comes her immediate answer and it is said just as softly as she looks away.
It's not something she can talk about. Not when the reason is right in front of her. And Beca think that the conversation is over. And it is, but Chloe doesn't leave. She takes a step forward, offering her hand towards her as she almost whispers, "Come here," and it makes Beca's insides twist and her chest ache.
It's tiring afterall. Resisting all the time
She takes Chloe's hand, her grip tightening with every second and she feels like she's under some strong spell as she lets Chloe pull her along without any question. They walk towards the sofa and Beca follows without any hesitation when Chloe gently tugs her down the cushions. They sit next to each other and only does the spell start to weaken when she feels Chloe taking one of the sofa's throw pillows to place it on her lap, patting it softly as she looks at Beca. A battle ensues inside her head and it comes out as a questioning look. This earns a sigh from the Vanderbilt as if she already knew this would happen.
Before Beca knows it, she's being pulled by the shoulders until her head lands on the pillow. When she tries to protest, she freezes when Chloe's fingers gently massage her head, right exactly where that incessant and painful throbbing was.
"I'm supposed to be out there, Beale," she tries to argue yet frustratingly, her weak tone betrays her.
"I'll you wake you up in 15 minutes. You need to rest," Chloe replies and Beca is already willing to give in.
"Well, it takes me more than that to get me to sleep," Beca counters yet her eyes seem to grow heavy as those fingers gently thread across her hair which She never lets anyone touch. Ever. But not tonight, apparently.
"Is that why you drink every day? Do you have nightmares too?"
The question blindsides her for a moment so she deflects, "Too?" and as soon as she says it, only does the gravity of what it might mean crash into her.
"I," Chloe starts and Beca feels conflict and hesitation on her part but it doesn't last. "It's gone worse after… everything that had happened. Sometimes I just wake up at night, crying," Chloe confesses and Beca's chest suddenly hurts even more. She frowns and suddenly everything but this doesn't matter. They all start to fade as an overwhelming sense of protectiveness fills up her system.
She never thought that…
She didn't think that it would…
"I actually sleep with the lights on now. It's like I'm five years old again and those monsters under the bed are back, only much scarier and…" Chloe tries to laugh it off but Beca's emotions are flaring up. Of all people, she knows exactly what it feels like. She's been through this countless times before.
"Chlo," she calls out softly, reaching out to make the Vanderbilt look down at her, those baby blues losing its vividness as Beca breaks through the façade.
"Don't worry. This is nothing. It'll go away," Chloe mumbles but Beca can see it.
The lie.
"Sunshine," she says tenderly, a tone she has never used in a very long time and the smile Chloe wears fades at the sound of it.
It is heart breaking and it claws at Beca. She swears nothing could be more painful than tears from someone you care deeply about. She hates it and it's because it makes her feel again.
"This may be the last thing you'd hear me say, but unfortunately it actually helps. Talking about it to someone. Just letting it out, until it doesn't feel as heavy as it was before," she suggests. And for someone who has an outstanding record for hiding away in to her heavily armed fortress when it comes to opening up to people, Beca herself secretly admits that it's healthy to do it, at least once in a while. A very rare while.
It actually took her years to finally do so and it ultimately took a very dangerous amount of alcohol—possibly a concoction of a recreational drug in the mix as well—in her system to push her to the edge. She had held her head high up all this time until the nightmares just grew unbearable. It was her first official year in Underworld. Blood stains all over her hands. Stains that don't go away even if she had scrubbed herself clean over and over again.
It had become too much. It was unbearable until in her drunken stupor finally spilled all of it to Natasha. All the pain being exposed in the open. Back then Natasha wasn't special, until after that night. A night that was supposed to be just alcohol and sex but ended up with Beca on the floor, in Natasha's arms, crying her heart out. Having to keep things to herself for years, those lonely years where all her bottled up emotions pile up until there was just no room left to keep it in, finally breaking out from where she had hidden it.
Suddenly, things gotten a little bearable. It's a little but it has gotten her far. It's gotten her here at this exact moment.
Back to Chloe.
"Well, I couldn't… reach you all week," the Vanderbilt meekly says and that hits Beca hard. The impact was too strong that the realization of what all that meant makes her spiral out of her own orbit and truly, Chloe Beale is going to be her downfall.
"Nobody else understands,"
Beca remains quiet, letting her fingers brush away the tears that had ran down Chloe's cheeks before she can even stop. She's easily losing control that she doesn't trust herself if ever she does open her lips right at that moment. She fears that if she does so her words might betray her and expose the contents of her heart.
Chaos is the only thing that could bring and Beca won't risk it.
"This past few days I felt… were you… avoiding me, Becs?" Chloe asks weakly, there's uncertainty and something that could be akin to hurt in her tone but Beca could be mistaken.
It's driving Beca crazy. The itch to say it, the words hanging at the tip of her tongue. The ones that come straight from her broken heart. The words that could end everything and she can't let that happen. She'd rather die than lose Chloe for the second time again. She's trapped in that same shit hole and Beca knows well just how foolish that is.
She's a fool.
"What reason could I possibly have to do that? It's just," she fumbles for her words and hopes that Chloe doesn't feel the anomaly in it. "It's been a really busy, stressful week and I went clubbing all day to relax or whatever." She exhales before reluctantly admitting, "Which was probably not the perfect time to do so but you know me, I always make the perfect decisions,"
"I'm sorry," she quietly adds. Guess, apologizing and being sentimental is really her mood of the day.
Silence follows and Beca almost feels Chloe taking and weighing it all in before finally saying, "Don't apologize. It's understandable. You're the queen," Chloe says with a smile and this time it's genuine.
"Give me your phone,"
Without hesitation Chloe hands it to her as Beca types in a number.
"It's my personal number, not the one from the council. Don't ever tell anyone. They wanted to monitor everything, security protocol and all. Nobody knows I have this number except for a few important people and my cousins," she explains as she hands Chloe's phone back.
"You don't have to, Becs. You've got too much going on and I don't want to—"
"I'm serious Chloe," she cuts her off. "Call me," she sternly says as she looks at the Vanderbilt in the eye. "Whenever you feel like it, don't hesitate. I will answer no matter what happens. That's an order," she drives in harder.
"Order, huh, but I thought I wasn't your slave anymore?" Chloe playfully says, her smile widening as she cutely pokes Beca on her cheek. It quickly elicits a murderous look from the Du Pont.
"True but unfortunately for you, I happen to be the god damn queen. My word is the law. Idiot," she grumbles, eyebrow arching perfectly.
"And you are a good queen. A really good queen, Becs,"
"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not a good—"
"What you did earlier. What you said up there proves that you are," Chloe says, cutting her off this time.
"I always knew you would be a queen worthy of all that admiration and respect. You say that you didn't have a choice but the truth is, there's always a choice and still you chose to carry us all up to safety instead of just giving up. It was beautiful what happened earlier. I've never seen anything like it before and you deserve all of it," Chloe warmly says and every word seems to hug Beca like a really soft and comfortable blanket.
"I had told them that I would bow to no one but you," she confesses and Beca's heart starts to hammer loudly in her chest. "I still stand by those words,"
She feels like she's about to combust and Beca is not used to being told these kinds of things that move hearts and souls. The world has always yelled curses back at her and not once has she been told that she deserved anything good. And now it feels as if eight years hadn't passed at all. It's like reliving the best years of her life all over again. That warmth, those soft caresses and gentle humming, it's all pulling back in again. She tries to fight it as hard as she could.
She tries to convince herself that none of it is real.
Good things never happen to her.
It's not—
"You said you'd take care of us all but then," Chloe pauses as Beca feels her fingers back in her hair again, massaging her scalp soothingly and running it across her light brown locks.
"I'm worried that nobody takes care of you, truly takes care of you. You've been like that even back then. You've always protected me. I know it feels like I was the one who came into your life and saved you like you always say when we were kids, but it's the other way around," she softly says and Beca's eyes grow heavier with every second that passes.
It felt so good being in Chloe's arms, her presence banishing away all her worries, all of her problems, all of those worldly things, and all of those unnecessary distractions that actually keep weighing her down. Everything that makes her miserable fading away into nothing but warmth.
"You're always sacrificing yourself for people, protecting and taking care of them even though it's you who needs it the most,"
All the other noises in the back slowly ebbs away. Beca's eyes flutter close and she doesn't really know when she had finally given in to sleep. Chloe's voice like a distant lullaby in her ear. It's the best kind of music she's ever heard.
It's the only kind of music she wants to hear from now on.
Maybe at this point, it's all just a dream and all that comes next is something her mind just made up. Her unconsciousness creating things that aren't real, things she wished were real. It wasn't the first and it definitely won't be the last. Either way, it felt so satisfying to hear words she didn't know she actually longed to hear.
Words that come from Chloe's lips.
"If you'll let me, I'll be that person,"
How tragic
"If you'll just let me…,"
This pathetic life we live
"I'll take care of you, Becs"
As we always keep wanting the things we can't have
But she wasn't Beca's and Beca wasn't hers to take care of.
And she'll never be.
A/N:
"But tell me, as you say all those things do you really want to stop? Why are you still here then? You say you don't like it. You say you hate it. You say no. You type, you press the button and then we go round and round again. And you keep saying no. But you're still here. You keep coming back. Why is that? Well, I know why. It's because no matter how much you dislike it. No matter how much you say you hate it and how you want this and that instead. Deep down you secretly like it. You secretly want it. You're no saint nor are you the good little sweetheart you proudly brandish for the world to see. You're just like me and everyone else, an emotional masochist deep down. Sinners with dirty little fuckin' secrets. And it's extremely addicting and you're attracted to it, the pain, to the forbidden, all the 'don't's. This is a drug. Your drug. You're Beca and this is your Chloe. Or maybe, you are Chloe. And that my dear sweet friend, is the truth you keep denying. Don't worry I'm not going to stop, I won't stop. We're going to go at it all night, love"
-redchocopanda (on Midnight Sunshine's critics as she sits on the kitchen floor, eating a bowl of cookie dough because she's too lazy to bake them) 2018
...
So Kendrick says that Snow is her sunshine, which of course she is and then Kendrick says she's a rain cloud and you know what? Know what? I initially wanted Beca be called Rain. But I figured that's going to be a shitty title- Sunshine Rain- or is it? Oh well fuck me and missed opportunities.
The hell you talking about? I'm always drunk when I write. Cheers, fam!
Also, no I'm not secretly Anna Kendrick. If I was, I won't have the time sign up in this website to write brilliant unrealistic shit weekly about two fictional characters, one of which I play. Like, seriously how?
Thanks for following, adding MS to your favorites and commenting or reviewing. Always remember if life is shitty, know that it's the same for everyone else so why stress? Why wake up early to go to the gym and diet? You look gorgeous. Eat what you love (except if your family has a medical history with heart or gastric problems or allergies), drink whatever you like (except for poison and piss) and jam to the 1975 or Camila's new album in your undies or whatever.
