A/N: This chapter was posted before but has been removed and edited. Thank you for reading. ^^
Beca was not known for being eloquent. She was known throughout her whole life for awkward fumbling of words and conversations puttering out on her end. Even in situations that mean a lot to her, she couldn't find the right words or form the exact sentences to express herself. Her confession to Chloe, god knows, didn't go as smoothly as she would have wished to but that was that; a maladroit collection of words supposed to be a confession of true feelings.
Chloe has been a doll and Beca felt guilty for being just on the receiving end of the sweetest words she has ever heard and read in person, text and voice mails. It is a wonder that Beca's girlfriend managed to fail literature an absurd number of times but she was undoubtedly a genius with words.
The brunette found herself sitting on the swings in the park behind Baker Hall with a notebook and a pen. She wanted to place some distance between her and the Bella house for a while in the hopes of finding the right words for Chloe. She sighed in frustration as she ran a hand through her chestnut locks, staring at the incomplete sentences she wrote in her sloppy handwriting.
"What's cooking shawshank?" a heavy hand clamped itself on her shoulder from behind which made her jumped approximately 3 feet up in the air.
"Damnit Amy… Don't creep up on me…on anybody!" Beca huffed, trying to get her cool back and continuing to mull over her notebook.
"What's up? Having trouble in paradise already?" Amy positioned herself on the swing next to hers and kicked herself back and forth while Beca sat silent and still.
"No, not really. It's… nothing. It's… Just me. Forget it."
"I could help you know. I have helped mother beagles through their empty nest syndrome and beagle pups through their separation anxiety. I'm like a psychotherapist without the paper saying it." Fat Amy slowed her swinging to show Beca her genuine concern.
"It's just… I suck at talking… well, not talking but…you know…"
"No, I don't know."
"See what I mean? I'm really bad at saying words…that…well, emotions…what?" Beca scrunched up her face, not believing that she could be this bad.
"Beca effing Mitchell. Remember the confidence I gave you?"
"Please no more butt confidence." She cringed and covered her head with her hands.
"That comes with a lifetime guarantee so I won't be rubbing off anymore for you. You're just not putting it in the right place." the too-energetic-for-words blonde raised a knowing brow.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you are trying to do what you're not good at, like poetry and shit. Focus your confidence on what you are good at and what you really feel for Red. That way everything will slip in place like me slipping easily onto Bumper's—"
"Let me stop you there before it gets weird. Thanks Amy." Beca flashed an honest grin. "You really could be a psychotherapist, y'know?"
"I know."
Beca stood up and dusted herself off, feeling lighter than air. She knew now what to do and hopefully, this will express her feelings as clearly as Chloe expressed hers. Put her confidence in the right place, huh?
Chloe dragged herself to her room and dumped her bag on the floor. She was dead on her feet after a long day battling to understand Trediakovsky's plays and essays. How she will ever use 18th century Russian Literature productively in her life was beyond her unless she would be able to use it to inspire underprivileged children to be wizened playwrights or seduce a wealthy Russian banker while dancing exotically.
"Hey Pudding… huh, watcha got there?" Chloe draped the shirt she was taking off on the chair beside her vanity and walked over to her bed where her stuffed unicorn was resting. Strung on the plump plushy was a blue MP3 player catching the late afternoon sun's rays with its glass display. Curiously, it only had one track in it entitled with a simple "Chloe". She tilted her head in curiosity and bit her lower lip. She glanced at her bedside clock and determined that she still had time before the Bella's evening practice so she grabbed her headphones, settled down on top of Pudding and pressed play.
A smile made its way to her face when she heard her girlfriend's voice spill out of the tiny earbuds in its softest, lowest register like the softest velvet to whisper upon her cheek.
"Chloe, Have I told you that I will love you always? When that beautiful red hair of yours turns white, I will still love you. When the smooth softness of youth is replaced by the delicate softness of age, I will still want to touch your skin. When your face is full of the lines of every smile you have ever smiled, of every surprise I have seen flash through your eyes, when every tear you have ever cried has left its mark upon your face,I will treasure you all the more, because I was there to see it all. I will share your life with you, Chloe, and I will love you until the last breath leaves your body or mine."
The first bars of music then shyly worked itself in and Chloe closed her eyes as she leaned further into Pudding.