Kailor: Oops, double surprise? Happy Bechloe Week?
This piece is NOT RELATED to the Stained Glass universe. It's just something else I've been working on and, hey, it's Bechloe week. Y'all deserve some Bechloe!
Oh, and for those who asked, you can find me on Twitter and Tumblr under the same name. Pink hair. Haven't posted in a millennia. But I'm there lol.
Four steps from one end of her kitchen island to the other. Four steps back. Two steps to the fridge. Chloe opens it, knowing she isn't actually interested in anything inside of it right now. It's just something to do with her hands, with her mind, while she waits for Beca.
The twisting, gnawing feeling in her chest isn't something Chloe's very familiar with. She's usually confident, bright, optimistic. Living, breathing sunshine, she's been called. Not...this. Whatever this strange mix is. Sad, yeah. Anxious, for sure. A bit scared. And a little angry–an emotion she has run into a few times in the past. Not that it ever lasted long. Chloe's anger hits like a firework, hot and bright for a few minutes before it fades away, falling back toward calm in a shower of dying sparks. No grudges. She just doesn't have time to stay mad at anything. There's too much laughter and music to be had.
She has plenty to be angry about today, though the feeling is already in the fading phase. She hadn't been in love with Tom, they'd both known it. She'd genuinely liked him as a person, of course, but there were very clear reasons they weren't meant to last. He didn't want to live in Georgia for much longer, while she was happily settled here and couldn't see herself leaving. He wasn't very close with her friends and Chloe had only met one or two of his in their half a year together. He didn't believe in marriage and Chloe did.
It all made it quite simple. Not a long-run relationship. But it was fun enough and she expected at least a couple more fun months before they called it quits. She also expected them to stay friends after. They just simply wanted different things in life and that was okay. It didn't have to be a sad thing.
He'd been a good boyfriend and a better friend.
Or so she thought.
She paces back and forth, arms crossed tightly over her turning stomach. Moving into the living room, she glances out the window. It's bright outside still, the sun only just starting to fall behind the other apartment complex across the street. One of her downstairs neighbors is out, walking his dog and bundled up against the September chill. A couple of teenagers are sitting in the parking lot with their skateboards, laughing and talking loudly.
No Beca yet and nothing else interesting, so Chloe moves back to the kitchen, thinking again of what she'll say when Beca does get there.
She'll be mad too. Probably mad enough to immediately go on the hunt for Tom. A part of Chloe wants to just cheer her on in her inevitable quest for murder, but the rest of her would much rather Beca not end up in jail.
Beca's really not an angry or violent person. She prefers snarky remarks and scathing glares. Except for when someone upsets Chloe. Then Beca turns into a little ball of fury that is ready to break the nose of anyone who looks at her wrong.
She thinks then of college, when that guy in her Russian Lit class started asking her out. After telling him no multiple times, he got pushy and rude about it. She was as polite and straightforward as she could be, but it was useless. He ended up cornering her in a nearly empty hallway one day after class, very loudly demanding to know why she wouldn't give him a chance. Until Beca–who, at the time, was only Chloe's quiet seat neighbor in Astronomy–had "accidentally" spilled fresh, searingly hot coffee down the guy's back as she passed. He screamed as he yanked off his jacket, Beca drawled an apology that she obviously didn't mean, and Chloe decided then and there that they would be fast friends.
Beca had fought it for a few weeks, but eventually gave in with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. And they've been best friends ever since.
The memory makes Chloe smile. From day one, Beca's always been there for her. If only she were here now.
Chloe breathes deeply around the fluttering in her stomach and turns. Four steps to the other end of the island. Four steps back. Two to the fridge.
The roar of an engine sounds from the parking lot and barely moments later there's loud clanking from the stairs. She freezes, only two steps back toward the other end of the island when the door flies open.
Beca comes through in a swirl of leather, flannel, and motorcycle helmet, nearly shutting her messenger bag in the door behind her. Her hair is sticking up wildly and it sways with her as she spins, eyes scanning the room. "Chlo!" Her helmet thuds to the floor and the strap of her bag gets tangled around her arm as she hoists it over her head. She shakes it off, leaving it by the door with her helmet and gloves. "Are you okay? What's going on?"
"I'm okay," Chloe assures her. All that nervousness had eased significantly the moment Beca stormed in and now she's mostly just amused as she takes in her frazzled concern. Oh, how far they've come from Beca's very reluctant acceptance to partner up in Astronomy. "Everything's okay." It isn't, but it feels like it can be, now that Beca's here.
"Jesus, dude," Beca grumbles. She bends to pick up the gray beanie that had fallen out of her jacket pocket and places it on the kitchen island instead. "Your message freaked me out." She pulls her phone from her back pocket, swiping at it. "'Come over as soon as you get off work. Need to see you.' No emojis," Beca reads, dropping her phone on the counter beside her beanie. "I didn't know you were capable of texting without emojis."
Another bit of Chloe's anxiety slips away as she rolls her eyes. She leans over the counter to smack her and Beca hisses, twisting away. "I just needed to see you! Like I said!"
"Yeah, yeah, okay! So you didn't set the apartment on fire again?"
"No," Chloe says, smiling as Beca attempts to pat her hair down and largely fails. "And technically Amy set my apartment on fire." It was the first and last time Chloe will ever let Amy use the toaster.
Beca gives up on her hair with a sigh and rolls her shoulders back to slip out of her leather jacket. "Mhmm. I knew we only kept Amy around to be an alibi for arson." She hangs her jacket over the back of one of the bar stools without even looking.
The movement makes Chloe smile. "Well, there's no fire today." She turns on her heel, crossing to the fridge to open it and pull out one of the vanilla sodas that she only keeps stocked because Beca likes them. "Not that I'm aware of anyways." She pops the top and passes the drink over the island to Beca, who takes it with a raised eyebrow.
"Then why did I break every speed limit to get here?"
Chloe's stomach twists a little and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. "I need to tell you something. Promise you won't flip out?"
Beca frowns, fingers tightening around her drink. "Dude, yeah. I promise. What is it?" Her other hand drifts over the counter to her beanie, fiddling absently with the frayed edge.
Chloe tucks her hair behind her ears, taking a second to lick her lips and gather her courage. One shaky breath and she crosses her arms, turning away. Four steps from one end of her kitchen island to the other. Four steps back.
Beca moves suddenly, blocking her path. "Whoa. Dude, you're pacing. You pace when you're freaking out."
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you do. It's a thing." Beca puts her drink down on the island. Then she reaches out and wraps a hand around Chloe's crossed forearms. She tugs lightly. Not hard enough to pull Chloe's arms apart, but enough to move her forward an inch. Closer to Beca. "What's wrong? You can talk to me, dude."
Chloe sighs shakily, hating the clenching, pinching anxiety in her chest. Chloe doesn't do nervous. "I know. I'm just… I have to tell you something and I'm just… I don't know." She can feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and she tries to blink them away quickly to not weird Beca out any more than she already has. Crying is not something Beca Mitchell knows how to handle. And Chloe did all the crying she plans to do this morning. Not so much over her breakup, but over her uncertain future. Tom hadn't felt like something to cry about.
But she might not be able to resist crying just a little at the warm concern on Beca's face.
Her fingers shift restlessly against Chloe's arm like she wants desperately to pull her hand back, but it stays in place. "Chloe. You can tell me anything." Her gaze flickers up to the ceiling, then back down. "Actually, scratch that. There's a lot of stuff that you and Stacie and Amy say to me that I really wish you wouldn't."
A laugh bubbles up from Chloe's chest, easing the tightness there a little. It dislodges one of the tears she was trying to hide and she quickly ducks her head to wipe it off on her shoulder, sniffling.
"But," Beca continues, "serious stuff… Like, that stuff you can tell me, dude. Anything."
And Chloe knows it's true. She knows that Beca is one of the most solid, genuine people she's ever met. She's caring and thoughtful, but she's also very awkward about it, so she buries it under sarcasm and cool aloofness that fools almost everyone she meets. But not Chloe. Chloe's always seen straight through the sass and snark from the moment hot coffee poured down Russian Lit Guy's back. It had taken a while for Beca to stop pretending the mask still worked on her and sometimes she tries it back on, but she's glad to see it doesn't even try to make a reappearance now. It gives her the jolt of courage she needs to go on.
"Okay." Chloe uncrosses her arms, taking Beca's hands in hers and squeezing softly. Beca squeezes back and Chloe nods. "Okay. Well. Tom and I broke up."
Beca's gaze narrows, tracking quickly over Chloe's face. "Did something happen?" A shadow flits through her eyes and a small crease appears across the bridge of her nose. The beginnings of a snarl. "Did he do something?"
"No," Chloe rushes to assure her. Her face relaxes slightly. "No, nothing like that. I'm just– He… He left because..." Her stomach flutters harder than ever and she takes a deep breath to still it. Then she counts to five in her head and forces her mouth open. "Beca. I think I'm pregnant."