When she stumbles into her apartment that night, Beca finds a letter notifying her of the termination of her lease on the apartment. Since she's practically left the last three months of rent unpaid and ignored the past five letters of warning from her landlord, this isn't particularly surprising. Still, it's annoying as hell because Beca actually likes this apartment.

Fuck. She flings the letter back on the table and stomps into the house. With the measly amount of money left in her bank account and only two days left till 'the end of the week', she seriously doubts she'll be able to find a semi-decent place and pay the two months of rent required to settle the deal.

Beca contemplates asking the producers of blue city to pay her in advance, or forcing John to give her the next two months of her pay. She could also wire back to her parents to ask for money, but that would essentially be admitting that she'd fucked up and that music wasn't a viable career option – and she'd sooner live on the streets in a cardboard box than do that.

She turns on her laptop and begins the impossible search for an apartment she can afford. She even resorts to Craigslist and scrolls around for suitable roommates, but eventually just falls asleep in her work clothes.

The next day, she spends the entire morning apartment hunting. As expected, she finds nothing except a tiny corner unit that looks like it has been uninhabited for years. When Sunday afternoon swings around and she still has no other apartment within budget, she gives up and starts packing her things into boxes. She sends the landlord a text saying that she'll be over in three hours, then calls John to tell him that she won't be coming in to work tonight.

Beca sets her phone on the ground and begins taping and labeling boxes. By eight, everything is packed away and Beca starts shifting all the boxes out into the corridor. She's struggling with a particularly heavy one when she bumps straight into somebody coming out of the lift. Beca drops the box with a heavy thud and looks up. Chloe stares at her, shifts her gaze to the boxes, then asks, rather bewilderedly, "What are you doing?"

"Moving," Beca says, heading back to the apartment for the last two boxes.

"What?" Chloe follows her in and holds the door open for her. "Why? Where?"

"You forgot who and how," Beca grunts, stacking the remaining boxes in the lift. She straightens and meets Chloe's flustered gaze, softening slightly. "I got evicted. Got a place not too far from here. It's small, in a shitty neighborhood, and I'm pretty sure someone left a dead body in there, but oh well-"

"You got evicted?"

Beca shrugged. "Yeah, apparently you can't not pay three months worth of rent and not get kicked out. Look, I gotta go – what're you doing here?"

"Jesus Christ. I leave you alone for one week and you go and get yourself evicted." Chloe rubs her forehead and shakes her head. "Were you even planning on telling me? Or were you just gonna leave without a word like last time?"

Beca narrows her eyes. "C'mon, Chloe, after that night? I think-"

Chloe swallows and cuts in. "Yeah. Um, about that night – I'm sorry. I mean – not for the things I said, because I still feel that way, but I guess for the way I said them. And for ignoring you afterwards. That was dumb."

Beca eyes her for a while, then shakes her head. "I gotta go – the landlord's waiting for me to show up-"

"I'd offer to share my flat with you, temporarily," Chloe says, "but the last time I suggested we live together in L.A., you ran halfway across the country to get away from me."

"I can't share your flat, Chloe." Beca says, pushing past Chloe into the lift.

Chloe follows her in. "I really am looking for a flat mate, though. Rent's crazy."

"No," Beca says empathetically, jabbing the lift button. The doors clang shut.

"Why not?" Chloe asks. "You could always pretend you saw my ad on craigslist."

"Because I'm-" Beca stops herself and sighs. "Because I don't want to. Okay? Because I'll get on your nerves and you'll get on my nerves and we'll both piss each other off and then you'll poison my cereal and I'll die."

"We've lived together before, Beca. No one died. Not even Aubrey." Chloe pauses. "Look, if this is about you and me... being..." She bites her lip and falls silent.

Beca glares at her pointedly. "Yes, Beale, it's about you and me. So no. No fucking way. It's dysfunctional as hell and you know it."

Chloe turns her palm skywards in acquiescence. "Alright, fine." She shrugs. "You're right. I'm sorry for suggesting. Will you at least tell me your address so I can come and check up on you from time to time to make sure you're still alive?"

Beca sighs. "I have other friends, you know," she points out. "Friends who aren't mad at me for... Never mind. I'll text you the details." The lift doors open and she bends down to pick up the boxes. "See you around, Beale."

Chloe watches her stumble out of the lift with three boxes. Wordlessly, she bends down to pick up the last two boxes and follows Beca out to the pavement overlooking the main road. Beca turns to her. "Chloe, I really appreciate your help, but I'm sure you have better things to do on a Sunday night."

"I don't," Chloe says stubbornly. Beca sighs and gives in.

"Well, thanks," She mumbles, flagging down a cab. They pile the boxes into the boot and climb into the backseat together.

Beca tells the cab driver her new address and leans back. They spend a few minutes in silence, staring out of their respective windows until Chloe breaks the silence with a quiet, "I saw the article, you know."

Beca blinks and turns pale. "And...?"

"I guess I get what you mean," Chloe says softly. "I think I'm gonna have to stop blaming you for...you know. Not doing anything."

Beca laughs and pulls a face. "So I suppose we're friends again, huh."

Chloe shakes her head and grins wryly at Beca. "This is ridiculous, isn't it?" Beca isn't quite sure what Chloe is referring to - their friendship, their non-existent relationship, their history - but she nods her agreement anyway, because they are ridiculous, no matter which way she chooses to see it.

Chloe changes the subject. "Am I going to hate your apartment?"

"Probably," Beca says, laughing. "I know I am."