Okay, first off: Thanks for those who showed interest in this fic! Around the ninth chapter of my other multichapter, I realized I have unknowingly jumped into the Mitchsen ship. For some reason I understand them better. While Chloe is nice and sweet, I have a very hard time writing her into the Triple Treble picture.
Which leads us into this new multichapter I've written to get out all the feels. This is currently my favorite thing to write, and I have to warn you that it would take me longer to update this one, because I want it really, really perfect and polished. I'd go as far as saying I want this to be my Fanfiction masterpiece (if there is such a thing).
Lastly, I changed the title from 'Better in the Dark' to 'Evening Sun'. When I published the first chapter I didn't really have the perfect title in mind, so I just cast my mind around and decided on a random song. However, I recently realized 'Evening Sun' by The Strokes describes her and Aubrey's position quite nicely (for reasons you will know in the next chapters, or you can just look for the song yourself). Anyway, I'm rambling. I hope you all continue to enjoy this. Feel free to comment and review, I love hearing from you guys.
And of course it doesn't come up, because life.
Or more specifically, because when the dust of that crazed month settled – when the Bellas won the a capella championship, took final exams, attended Aubrey and Chloe's graduation, went to all the year-ender parties, and Beca announced her move to LA in one of those parties – Aubrey was as distant as ever.
Beca had barely seen her that month. Even then it was always at a distance, and it never felt enough. There were days when Beca was just dying to drop by the blonde's apartment, because she simply had to know. How was Aubrey faring? What happened next? Yet Beca didn't, because maybe she was better off not knowing – no, she doesn't need to know more about the girl who constantly gnawed at her thoughts at two in the morning. She had asked Chloe about her at least thrice, in the subtlest of ways – by the way, how's Aubrey? And Chloe's answers had often been worried and worrisome. She's working too hard. She's too quiet. She doesn't want to see anybody. She barely sleeps.
"Just fucking bring her flowers or something, dude," Stacie finally snapped, on the fourth time Beca casually asked Chloe about the blonde. "You've been jerking your toner long enough!"
"Don't. Bree is allergic to flowers," Chloe said, her blue eyes not leaving the gray flannel shirt she was folding. "Beca, how did you dupe me into folding your clothes?!"
"Because you, Chloe Beale, are my bitch."
The three of them were at Beca's dorm. She was leaving for LA in three days, and Chloe, who had been complaining about the amount of alcohol and pizza she was consuming lately, decided the most wholesome way they could hang out was by prematurely packing Beca's luggage. Most of the students had gone home during the first week of summer break; the remaining ones from the a capella student community were only staying for Beca's going-away party.
"The two of us have never been enough for you, Beca, dammit!" Stacie said in a faux-offended voice, looping an arm around Chloe's shoulder and pretending to glare at the smaller brunette. "Are we not enough of a challenge for you? Do you have a blonde fetish? Do you like being dominated?"
"What can Bree offer you that Stacie and I couldn't possibly give you?" Chloe added, pouting and playing along. "Why must you be so greedy? What do you want, a harem?"
Beca, who was cleaning and packing her studio monitor speakers, laughed. "It's not like that at all, okay? It's just that I was there when the whole thing with her dad happened. I'm just following through."
"You'd think the two of you would be friends now, after you stayed with her that night." Stacie flopped onto the bed, tinkering with the plastic camera Beca said she could have. "Was the sex that bad? Was it so bad the Captain actually repressed her memory of it?"
"You had sex?!" Chloe, her blue eyes wide, shrieked as she grabbed Beca's collar. "Is this why Bree doesn't want to talk about what you did that night? You fucked her?"
"Chloe, how many times do I tell you never to take Stacie seriously?" Beca glared at Stacie, who was laughing hysterically. "Can someone remind me why I have crazy-bitch friends? Jesus."
"Because you wuv us?" Chloe cooed, apologetically smoothing out the collar of Beca's shirt. "Seriously, what happened that night? You two are acting like you murdered someone."
Beca cringed at Chloe's unnecessarily-gory description, and then sighed. "She got drunk on wine, we danced, she cried, I held her until she fell asleep. That's it."
Chloe and Stacie looked at each other and let out a spontaneous, "Aww."
"Becs, I have to say, you're the sweetest." Chloe planted a kiss on Beca's cheek, and the brunette turned red.
"You held her?" Stacie smirked. "Beca Mitchell doesn't just hold anybody! Oh, I am so jealous."
"Beca's held me a lot of times before," Chloe teased, sticking out her tongue.
"What?! Beca, how come you've never held me?" Stacie put on an offended expression. "Hold me. Now. With your clothes off."
"That's nothing, because Beca and I showered together once. Ooh, burn!"
"Okay, that didn't happen, you actually barged in –" Beca began, but Stacie quickly drowned out her words.
"Oh, I can trump that, Disney Face. Let me get my dominatrix suit –"
"Beca, honey, can you put out our double dildo so we can show Stacie?"
Beca was chortling. "Knock it off, ladies. I am not doing a three-way with you."
"But on a more serious note, bro, I am so proud of you." Stacie reached out for a fist-bump. "It takes a lot to be nice to someone who's hated you for a year."
"Hey, Bree doesn't hate Beca," Chloe said, quickly coming to her best friend's defense. "It's nothing personal. She's been under so much stress for most of her life, plus the fact that she likes being in control. And you –" she turned to Beca – "It didn't help that you've been so snarky. Bree hates being antagonized. You could have come on less strong."
"Less strong?!" Beca exclaimed hotly. "I practically ignore Aubrey whenever she's yelling at me during practice –"
"– only to grumble some cheeky stuff once she turns her back," Stacie finished.
"Stacie, dude, whose side are you on?"
Chloe raised an eyebrow at Beca's statement, and the brunette only rolled her eyes in reply. "Aubrey's like an alligator. Snapping is her default stance."
"That's true," Chloe sighed, "but only until you get past it. Bree is a wonderful person, you guys! She's fiercely loyal, she's caring, she's very responsible –"
The stony, unconvinced expressions of the brunettes opposite her gave her pause.
"Wow, she sounds boring," Stacie remarked offhandedly.
Beca honestly didn't agree with Stacie, but she wasn't going to say that. "Chloe, if you love her so much, why don't you marry her?"
"Because you love her too, you dolt."
"Nice!" Stacie gave Chloe a high-five.
"I don't love her!" Beca explained, exasperated. "Okay, I was there in her time of need or whatever. But once she gets over it, we'll probably go back to hating each other."
"It would be nice if you can be friends instead," Chloe grumbled. "You and Aubrey are so alike sometimes, Beca. Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to be friends with Aubrey?"
"No," Beca lied flatly. "Besides, I'll be gone in a week. What's the point?"
It was her turn to give them pause. After a few moments of thick silence, Chloe burst into tears.
"Oh no." Stacie rose and pulled Chloe into her arms. She then reached out and grabbed Beca's shirt front. "Don't just stand there, lover. It's grope hug time."
Beca made a face, but she awkwardly put an arm around the redhead's waist. "Aww, Chlo. It's going to be okay. We'll write and stuff."
"You write," Stacie snorted. "We'll Skype you, since we're from the modern age."
"You're a heck of a talent, and I'm sure you'll make it in LA," Chloe hiccupped. "But we'll miss you so much."
"I'll miss you guys too," Beca admitted, taking a deep breath to stop from making more mushy statements. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
Chloe sobbed for a little while longer before finally pulling herself together. Wiping her tears, she pressed her face to Beca's cheek. "We love you."
"Ditto," Beca replied, uncomfortably but sincerely; she felt too self-conscious and shy to say the words back. "I'll get you autographs from Zooey Deschanel and Ryan Hemsworth, okay?"
"Awesome. I'm sorry for crying. I know it makes you uneasy," Chloe mumbled, chuckling a little. "It just happened, I just realized you're leaving so soon – Stacie, are you seriously grabbing my ass right now?"
"It just happened, I just realized it's so close to my hand," Stacie shot back, and they all broke out into laughter, dissipating the gloomy atmosphere. "Becs, if Chloe and I make out right now, will you stay? Just for the three-way?"
"Tempting, but no."
Chloe was grinning now. "What if we include Aubrey?"
"No. Hard no. Dammit, you guys. I – don't – like – her. I've said it a bunch of times now."
They fell silent for another moment, still holding each other close, while Beca mulled on how her friends could possibly keep misinterpreting her concern for the blonde as something else.
"Did you at least cup her ass while you were dancing?"
"Conrad, you're incorrigible."
Beca liked to think of herself as rational, relaxed, even cool.
But on her last day at Atlanta – when Chloe told her Aubrey had left the previous night for an interview at Cambridge, and might not be able to make it to her going-away party later – Beca just spectacularly lost it.
"It's my last fucking party at Barden. She can't not come!"
"Of course I told her that, Becs. She only said she'll do her best to get back –"
"For fuck's sake, it's – what? A couple of hours from there to Atlanta? Three hours, tops!"
" – and if she doesn't, could I please tell you she's very sorry."
Unbelievable, Beca thought. The blonde was fucking unbelievable.
Fat Amy lived in a fancy rented mansion in West Paces Ferry Road, and naturally, it was where all Bella-related parties were held. The moment Beca arrived, Fat Amy promptly seized her by the collar.
"Crikey, DJ, you're frigging late to your own party!"
Before Beca could object, the Aussie started hollering in a megaphone for everyone's attention.
"Tonight, we go off like Taswegin frogs in socks for our ace mate Beca! Let's make it a ripper of a shivoo she won't ever forget!"
Everyone cheered, and Fat Amy released the uncomprehending Beca into the crowd, where she was plied with drinks almost immediately.
She lost count at the fifth cup of Jack and coke, brought diligently by people too intent on obeying Fat Amy, people who looked nothing like the one person she desperately wanted to see tonight, people who would sometimes have the willowy frame but not the blonde hair, the blonde hair but not the sharp green eyes.
Two hours later, she was incredibly, visibly grim. Stacie took one glance at her face and began pushing her out towards the pool in the back yard.
"What the fuck?"
"You need to see some boobies, dude. I know that look."
But it wasn't boobies Beca had been looking for the entire evening, and she couldn't even mind the half-drunk girls frolicking in the water. She merely leaned back on a pool lounge, miserable, her one hand dangling over the seat, the other arm over her eyes.
When Chloe turned up, wet, frisky and ravishing in a tiny blue two-piece bikini, Beca barely glanced at the goods.
"Becs, you darling sourpuss. Come join us!"
Beca attempted a smile and shook her head. "I'm good, Chloe."
"Please?" Chloe whined, her hands already wandering in front of Beca's flannel shirt, clumsily trying to unbutton it. "I don't get to see you naked often enough."
Stacie, thankfully, stepped in to restrain Chloe. "You know it's something when I have to pull you off people," she commented wryly; Chloe's corresponding laugh was way too loud, Beca concluded she was drunk. "Oi! Fat Amy!"
Fat Amy, who was passing by with two well-built jocks on each arm, stopped and breezily gave Stacie and Chloe kisses on the cheek. "Aca-bitches. Enjoying the shindig? Red, where's El Capitan? She's already missed half my parties since –"
Chloe elbowed her in the ribs and motioned to Beca. The Aussie quickly noticed Beca's miserable expression.
"Veg out, Short Stack, what's wrong?"
Beca wasn't even sure. "Nothing. I'm just, um, probably sad to be leaving."
"You're dry as a drover's dog, that's what's wrong," Fat Amy replied sagely, noting Beca's empty hands. She turned and whispered to one of the jocks behind her. He quickly disappeared, and returned with a small tray of shot glasses filled with milky-green liquid.
"This is dinky-di Pernod absinthe, you bitches. I got Lilly to mix it up for us."
"Thanks, but I've had enough –"
"Becs, I never pegged you as a two-pot screamer, mate. So drink up, alright?"
Beca wasn't too keen on drinking anything Lilly ever touched, but she wouldn't hear the end of it from the surrounding Bellas if she didn't. So she forced herself to swallow the noxious-looking mix in a couple of gulps, and watched the others do the same.
"Okay, now that's done – bitches, for the sake of our mateship, I gotta tell you something."
Beca instantly tensed at Fat Amy's words. "What?"
"I had Lilly slip some, y'know, disco biscuit on the grog."
The rest of them were, as usual, confused by what passed for Fat Amy as conversational English. "What are you talking about?" Chloe prompted, and at this, Fat Amy responded with a wink and a whisper:
"Y'know. E. On the absinthe."
That Beca understood. And while she had tried ecstasy before, it wasn't exactly how she had envisioned her last night in Atlanta would go. "What?! You what?!"
"Oh shut up, Beca!" Stacie intervened exasperatedly, stepping between her and Fat Amy. "Look, we get it – you want to chase your dream. Fine, off you go. But at least have the decency to enjoy this grand send-off we prepared for you, okay? You think the last thing we want to remember of you is your damn mopey face? Fuck no! So pull your shit together, because you're fucking going to have fun whether you fucking like it or not!"
Beca swallowed. Stacie was one of the most tolerant people she knew. And seeing her losing her patience felt a little alarming. "Calm down, Stace. Will do."
Stacie huffed, but she stooped to grab Beca's face in her hands. "You better. Now look alive, will you?"
Beca managed a weak grin. Stacie responded with a bigger one before giving the smaller brunette a resounding peck on the lips. "Dammit, Stace, don't Fredo-kiss me."
"Sorry, darling. Didn't know you strictly reserved that for the bedroom."
"Okay, that's settled, love and hugs all around," Chloe announced brightly, taking Beca's hand. "Don't keep her to yourself, Stacie. Let's go fucking party!"
Beca nodded and let herself be dragged towards the pool.
An hour later, the ecstasy drops – and then bam, lawless wonderland.
Somewhere, someone – probably Luke – was playing a lot of Beca's mixes, and holy fuck, the music's just perfect. It was vibrating off the walls, pulsating into waves, surging right through the crowd. Beca felt an almost-visceral need to dance and found it pointless to resist. Having her body move rhythmically to the fast throbbing bass felt fucking wonderful.
The lights were intense and blurry and pretty and she could kiss everyone. All around her, the friends she loved most swayed and pushed and pulled her into a repetitive, speedy, yet always-exciting rolling coaster going up – up – up.
In the gloom Stacie thumped her back fondly, and Beca just knew she'd never find herself a more loyal friend. Fat Amy always made sure they never ran out of drinks. Jack and coke had never, ever tasted that good.
At some point Lilly popped open a bottle of champagne over the raving, cheering crowd. Beca joined the throng and stretched her hands toward the spray, the icy droplets trailing goosebumps all over her skin.
When Chloe appeared, lapping up the droplets on Beca's neck with hot, heavy breaths to match, the sensations were suddenly electric. They danced, pressing closely to each other, and it didn't take long for Chloe's tongue to find Beca's in the dark. Kissing her was like drinking sunlight, and at that moment, Beca felt like she could conquer the world.
By midnight the euphoria was winding down and Beca just had to get away from all the noise. Her throat was scratched and burning, and if she didn't find water soon, she might just fucking combust.
She staggered out of the house unnoticed, found the front yard empty save for a long line of parked cars, and promptly started kicking the nearest hedges with a methodical fury that, without warning, suddenly took hold of her senses.
"Fucking hell! Mother – fucking – hell!"
Goddammit, why the fuck was she so angry now?
"Beca!"
It was like someone had suddenly shut off the sound. The muted pounding of electronic music, the hum of the party inside the house, the cicadas chirping intermittently in the dark, the sloshing of ice cubes in her cup – Beca heard none of these, because she sought out something else. She wanted that voice to say her name again, in the void she had created especially for them.
"Beca." Now it wasn't just an authoritative voice anymore but a warm touch at her shoulder, steering her around with surprising agility – and there was Aubrey, in a little plum-colored dress, of all the fucking things, because it wasn't enough that her blonde tresses were still elegantly curled in the dead of night, and her posture was still poker-straight, and her half-parted lips and green eyes glimmered as she came closer, and she was beautiful and shiny and all the right things even in the fucking moonlight.
Beca could actually feel her anger swiftly dissipating the longer she stared. Fuck, she was becoming some sort of bipolar, wasn't she? And then she decided to succumb to her first instinct: walking closer to the blonde, she pulled her into a hug with an exuberance that surprised both of them.
To her credit, Aubrey didn't flinch or back away. She patted Beca's back with some trepidation; but when they drew apart, Aubrey had a flushed, uncertain, yet amused expression on her face.
"Shit, I'm fucking sorry," Beca quickly apologized, suddenly realizing what she just did. "Fat Amy slipped disco biscuit on my grog – I mean, they slipped me some fucking E –"
"It's fine," Aubrey exhaled, and Beca could feel her own features expanding into an uncontrollable grin, because she just rendered the blonde breathless.
"I'm so fucking glad you came."
Aubrey still had a slight smile on her face, but she straightened up, trying to regain her composure. "I...I promised myself I wouldn't miss it. Why are you killing plants?"
Beca shook her head. She now knew why, but no way was she ever going to tell Aubrey. "I don't like bushes. Can I get you anything? Drink? Disco biscuit?"
"I don't think you can walk, much less get me anything in that state."
"You're right. And I wouldn't know where to get disco biscuit anyway – it's just really fun saying it, again and again. Disco biscuit. Disco biscuit."
Aubrey sighed. "Beca, if you could only hear yourself right now. Will you wait here?"
Beca didn't ask why; she just nodded, still transfixed by the blonde's presence. Aubrey disappeared into the house. Beca wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it hadn't felt long before the blonde came back with a glass of water in hand.
"You're a savior." Beca took the glass Aubrey was offering, taking deep draughts. She felt less hoarse with each swallow. "Thanks."
"Ecstasy makes people dehydrated," Aubrey said. "And you were very hot earlier, so..."
"Thank you, I know." Beca attempted a wink, ended up blinking both eyes stupidly, and laughed.
"Not that way, you dork." Aubrey's small smile was back. When their eyes accidentally met the next moment, though, they suddenly had nothing to say to each other.
Aubrey finally cleared her throat. "You should go back inside."
"Dude, no. I can't even find the door. You should go inside, though – you look fucking killer." Apparently the ecstasy was still working, because Beca's filter was virtually nonexistent, and she couldn't care less. "I mean, really lovely."
"I got that." Aubrey looked down at her heels, but not before Beca caught her bashful expression. "Thank you."
Beca half-bowed in response and began stumbling towards the general direction of Barden, feeling Aubrey's stare at the back of her head. She had gone at least twelve steps when she heard Aubrey's voice cutting through the night.
"I'll drive you home."
She ended up riding shotgun in Aubrey's white Honda Civic – a control-freak car, which came as no surprise. When the blonde prompted her to put on her seatbelt, she wanted to laugh. Aubrey could be hard to read most of the time, but there were, at least, things she could be predictable about.
The drive was quiet because she was too busy looking at Aubrey's hands. The blonde was a hell of an efficient driver – hawk-eyed, alert, never wasting any more movement on the wheel and the stick shift than she had to. But then again, she had more or less the same almost-military conduct on every other situation Beca had seen her in.
I already know too much, Beca thought, glancing at the blonde's forearms and recalling the way they wrapped around her neck a few weeks ago. We can never be the same again.
"How did you know where I live?" Beca asked, while Aubrey parallel-parked right in front of Baker Hall.
"We waited here when..." Aubrey was decent enough not to continue, but Beca only shrugged.
"Yeah, when I got arrested. You have an excellent memory."
Aubrey only nodded, watching Beca fumbling to get her seatbelt off.
"D'you wanna come in?" The invitation had escaped Beca's lips before she could stop it, but she couldn't very well take it back, so she plodded on. "I've got, uh, a vending machine ten steps from my room."
Aubrey seemed to consider it for a moment.
"I can live with that," she finally said, moving to unclasp her seatbelt as well.
