Beca had been sending her resume to a lot of different places. She had a new motivation, as if she had been blocked and suddenly opened her eyes and realized that there was more to life than what she had been doing for the past five years.

Her dad had a strange reaction towards Beca's decision. He understood what his daughter wanted and supported her but he was afraid to see Beca quitting a steady job. But after talking to Sheila and Beca, he ended up trying to help his daughter in any way he could. He kept reminding her of some things she could put on her resume. Of course he wasnt't always helpful: "Dad, I'm not going to put on my resume that I won a spelling bee contest in the 6th year! They're going to laugh at me," said Beca. Her dad was quick to respond "Beca, it could be important. It shows that you care about your past and that you'll be able to write lyrics without any spelling mistakes."

Beca and Chloe's friendship grew stronger as the days went by. Chloe was throwing more jokes at Beca, she had already picked up many of Beca's sarcastic tics and told her some things that were happening to her. Nothing about her patients. In fact, she had an amazing professional ethic. Little by little, Chloe was learning to notice whether Beca was being playful or serious, although she often had some difficulty in reaching a satisfactory conclusion.

She had never had a bad conversation with Chloe. But it could be really painful to relive certain memories. It was hard for Beca to realize that she had stopped doing many things in her life because it wasn't the right time, or because she didn't think she was good enough or even because she thought it wouldn't be worth trying. In the end, she was almost sabotaging herself. Nothing her dad hadn't told her already. There was only one thing holding her back: fear. And now anxiety was added to the mix. It could all be a matter of turning anxiety into a positive thing, almost like an adrenaline rush that forced her to do well, to get the tiniest detail.

The day had come. She couldn't help it. Beca was shaking, her palms were sweaty, and her head looked like a boat lost at sea. She didn't know what to say and the only thought in her head was that in five or ten minutes everything would be over and she could breathe normally again. Almost with her heart in her mouth, Beca raised her right hand and knocked on the door.

"Come in." a voice said from the other side. Beca slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open. She entered with her eyes glued to the ground and her feet crawling as if they had a will of their own and didn't want to let her move. As she leaned against the door, she finally looked up. Her boss had his eyebrows raised in surprise, his mouth parted in a very good imitation of a fish out of water.

"Beca, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?" he asked, waving his hand for Beca to sit in front of him. She did so and placed her hands on both sides of the chair, afraid of losing her balance.

"I ..." she took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you in person to explain my decision. I didn't want to do it through a letter, it would be disrespectful. I won't forget what you've done for me and how you've helped me. I wanted to formally file my resignation." Her boss stared at Beca with the same expression he had when she entered his office. He rubbed his hands together, trying to think about what to say next.

"But did something happen? I'm not gonna lie to you, I wasn't expecting it. I just wanted to know if someone treated you badly or if there was any problem of any kind." He looked genuinely concerned. Beca shook her hand immediatly.

"No, nothing happened. But as you know I got a degree in music which is something I'm really passionate about. I've been working here for a while now. Lately I've had some personal issues and I realized that I'm always avoiding to do what really makes me happy. What I mean by this is that I'm trying to follow a dream that I've been putting off for a long time. I think that if I don't do it now, I may never have a chance again."

"Beca, you know I don't want to discredit you or make you feel bad, but sometimes dreams are just a movie thing."

"But there are people in real life who can make them happen. And even if I can't, I want to be able to sleep at night knowing I've tried everything I could."

"So, you're aware of what you're giving up, right? Your contract, health insurance, all the other perks?"

"Yes. I've already weighed all the pros and cons, but it's like I told you, I have to do this now. If I have to work more hours to leave everything as you want or give someone training, whatever it is, I'll do it with the utmost professionalism. But I really want to resign."

"Were you nervous? Is that why you came in here like you had just seen a ghost?"

"Yeah, actually, I'm still nervous. It isn't easy, but doing the right thing isn't always the easiest."

"I'm sorry to see you go but I know this job is not your dream job and I'm not here to cut off anyone's wings. I know we had our disagreements but you're one of the best employees I have here. I'm going to miss you a lot, I'm not going to lie."

"I really appreciate your words. And, as I told you, if you want me to leave everything in order or anything else, you can count on me."

"I will. I want you to choose a colleague and try to teach them everything you know about this business."

"Consider it done, boss. "

"I hope your dreams come true. And when they do, don't forget to mention me."

"Thank you, sir."

"Back to work then, you have a lot of things to do until the end of the month."

"Thanks." Beca hurried out of the office and took the opportunity to enjoy her morning break. When she reached the entrance, she hurried to light a cigarette and picked up her phone.

"Chloe?"

"Hi, Beca. So how did it go?"

"It's done."

"And how are you feeling?"

"I wanna cry, is it normal?"

"Yes, it's a big change in your life. You're a little afraid of it but you're also feeling a deep sense of relief. If you have to cry, just do it. There's nothing wrong with crying." Upon hearing Chloe's words, Beca couldn't stop her tears anymore. She was crying in the middle of the sidewalk, her cigarette trembling between her fingers.

"It's a pity you're not filming this," Chloe said in an attempt to cheer Beca. She began to laugh through sobs.

"You're starting to look so much like me. I'll send you to my family lunches as a substitute Beca. A wig and some sunglasses and they might not even notice the difference."

"And we're back to normal." Beca laughed again.

"That's enough."

"Do you want to come by the office at the end of your shift so we can talk?"

"Won't I be bothering you?"

"No, I'll finish my last appointment at 4:00 p.m."

"But I only leave at eight o'clock, you won't stay there waiting for me the whole time."

"It's not a problem."

"What would you do if I didn't go there? And tell me the truth."

"I would go home, I guess." Chloe said.

"Then go and if you want we'll go ouf for coffee when I leave."

"Er ... If you want you can come to my house, we can talk there."

"Are you sure?"

"Isn't that something friends do?"

"Yeah. For someone who's always saying she's socially awkward, you're doing very well. Then it's settled, when I leave, I'm going to have dinner and then I'll come by your house."

"If you want, you can have dinner with me."

"My God, who am I talking to?"

"Was I inconvenient?"

"No, not at all. Soon enough you'll have so many friends that you'll be able to start your own book club."

"I see you're already recovered. I'll see you later."

"Bye, Chloe." Beca hung up the phone, took a tissue from her pocket and tried to wipe her face without smearing her makeup. She put out her cigarette and tossed it into a trashcan nearby. She re-entered the building and started completing the request her boss had given her.

When Chloe said goodbye to her last patient, she started pacing around the office looking for her purse and keys. Of course, they were where she had left them, but she couldn't help to feel slightly nervous that Beca was coming to her house. When she got into her car, she tried very hard not to go over the speed limit, not that she could ever do it, anyway. Her body had a barrier that never let her break the rules.

As she arrived home, she parked the car carefully, locking it just before opening the door of her house. She went in and looked around. She thought the house was completely messy. "Okay, I have about three hours until she gets here." She changed into a more comfortable outfit and began to straighten out what, honestly, was already more than neat. An hour after she started, she looked around and still didn't feel completely satisfied. She shook her head almost as if that would guarantee that she was moving away from that thought and began to consider what she would do for dinner. She could order a pizza, she knew Beca would enjoy it, and she would save herself a lot of trouble. But she hated eating unhealthy things. She looked at the pantry and gathered half a dozen ingredients to make dinner. Chloe just hoped Beca wasn't too weird about food.

At around 8.30 pm, the bell rang through the house. Chloe had already changed her clothes again. She was wearing a red blouse with a small v-neck, skinny black jeans and a pair of black leather high heels. When she opened the door she found Beca with a choice of clothing very different from hers. She was in skinny jeans, she'd changed her shoes into white sneakers and wore a simple t-shirt. What caught Chloe's attention was Beca's hair. It was curled and had much less volume. She could already see the earrings and piercings on Beca's ears.

"Hi, Chloe, I don't mean to be rude, but for the love of God, tell me where the bathroom is. I was very close to stopping the car on a curb until I remembered that it isn't very easy for me as it is for a man to pee on the side of the road. All kinds of differents pipes and all, you know." Chloe was surprised at first, but she couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Well, hello Beca. It's down the hall, second door on the left."

"Thanks." She ran off almost knocking down a jar of flowers. Chloe closed the door and finished setting the table. She opened one of her favorite bottles of wine and poured both glasses. Two minutes later, Beca reappeared, her face flushed and her expression more relieved.

"My God. We are told to drink so much water and they forget to tell us to buy a potty. I'm getting bladder problems. On top of that I almost needed a freakin' golf cart."

"A golf cart?"

"Yes, your house is big as hell, I thought I would never get to the bathroom."

"You're exaggerating."

"It is true. But luckily it all went well. Where's your dog?"

"With Aubrey. I was working late all week and I hate to leave him alone. But he'll be back tomorrow."

Oh, I really wanted to meet him." Beca said as she looked at the dinner table for the first time. "What an exquisite dinner."

"It's nothing special."

"Very well, you're earning points in social skills. Cooking dinner for a friend – check!" Beca commented. Chloe shook her head and pointed at one of the kitchen's chairs.

"Sit down." Beca sat down, took the napkin and placed it on her lap. She clasped her hands like a praying mantis and began to whisper something. Chloe looked at her curiously but chose not to say anything. Maybe it was a tradition for Beca to pray before eating. Beca half opened one eye and began to speak louder:

"And please do not let the food be poisoned. I know I'm hard to put up with, but no one deserves to die poisoned with..." she looked at her plate "...something that looks like rice but it's not rice. Amen." When she finished, she immediately got a pat on the arm.

"I thought you were praying!" said Chloe, pouting.

"I was!" Beca argued.

"I don't know much about prayers, but I don't think that was a real one."

"You're no fun."

"And just so you know, the thing that looks like rice is actually quinoa."

"What have I gotten myself into? You look like my cousin with her crazy diets."

"I guess you've never tried it before, right?" Chloe said while pouring some food in Beca's plate.

"Yeah, but don't worry. If I don't like it, I'll tell you."

"I hope so." they started eating and Beca actually liked the food. She was already on the second plate when Chloe changed the subject and asked:

"So, how did the conversation go with your boss?"

"He was very poetic. First he asked me if I was sure. Then I explained my reasons again and he began to say that he understood and that he didn't want to cut off my wings. A beautiful metaphor. In fact, that's what made me cry."

"Do you have to make fun of everything? Those were beautiful words."

"They were! They made me cry."

"You're impossible."

"I love it when you compliment me."

"I know. By the way, I wanted to ask you something else." Chloe confessed. Beca remained focused on the food in front of her, waiting for the psychologist to continue.

"You can just ask the question, you don't have to tell me you're going to do it."

"Did any of the studios get back at you?"

"You looked so serious, I thought you were going to ask me what's the meaning of life."

"If you want, I can ask you that later."

"Don't, I can't answer it without quoting Monty Python a lot. As for your question, I have an interview scheduled for Monday."

"Where?"

"Someplace called 'Residual Heat'. I'm afraid to ask why they decided to name that studio with something that could easily be a title of a porn movie. Let's see what happens." She pushed the plate away and put her hand over her belly. "Jesus, I ate like a freakin' pig."

"You're delightful." Chloe said rolling her eyes.

"That's why I have dozens of men at my doorstep every day." Beca sneered. Chloe started to clean the table when she suddenly noticed a hand grasping hers.

"Nope, don't even think about it. You cooked, I clean. I have manners, you know?"

"Oh, thank you, but I can do it." Chloe said, picking up her plate.

"I already said no. I'll do the dishes. Just tell me where everything is and give me some space. I need creative freedom."

"To clean the dishes?"

"Yeah, it's an art form."

"The soap is in cupboard. Have fun."

"'Course I'm going to have fun. Meanwhile, you just pray that I won't break anything."

"You have to teach me how to pray, you seem to do it very well."

"I always thought you had the potential to be sarcastic, almost as if you had a tiny sarcastic Chloe in your brain, trapped in a cage, begging you for freedom. I never thought you'd let her out so soon."

"A tiny sarcastic Chloe?"

"It's a metaphor, I'm not that stupid about the human body."

"I don't think you're stupid about anything." Chloe said honestly.

"Oh, that's so sweet of you, you deserve a hug," Beca said, approaching the psychologist.

"Never mind, your hands are full of foam."

"What's a little foam between friends?" She came closer to Chloe and hugged her. At first, the psychologist stood still, not knowing what to do. A few seconds later she put her arms around Beca's waist.

"You see, it's not that hard." Beca whispered. "And if you have any spots on your clothes, which I think is highly unlikely, they're about to be exterminated."

"You're not actually touching me, are you?" Chloe asked, afraid of the answer. She didn't have any problems with Beca touching her, but she really liked that blouse.

"'Course not." Beca answered in an unconvincing manner.

"How long is a hug suppose to last?"

"As long as you want it to last, but maybe this is already becoming weird, isn't it?"

"I don't know?" Beca pulled away slowly, and in fact she hadn't laid her hands on Chloe's blouse. She hesitated and placed a light kiss on the psychologist's forehead.

"Turn the TV on or have another glass of wine while I finish doing the dishes." Chloe nodded and took a generous sip from her glass. She didn't turn the TV on. She watched Beca in silence, as if she was studying her. About five minutes later, Beca ran her hands through the water, dried them and drank some wine.

"A penny for your thougts?" Beca said. Chloe seemed distracted.

"What?"

"Is everything okay?" Beca asked getting closer to Chloe.

"Yes, of course."

"C'mon, tell me what's on your mind. You have a weird look on your face."

"You'll think it's ridiculous."

"It wouldn't be the first ridiculous thing I'd see today. You should have seen the tie my boss was wearing. Tell me what's going on."

"I don't really know how to act on certain aspects of a friendship. I don't know when we're supposed to hug someone or comfort them. I mean, I know all this in theory and I know why it's done. But empirically I can't explain it." said Chloe with a sad smile.

"Chloe, there are no guidelines on how to treat friends, it depends on the personality of each person. It depends on the personality of the other person." Beca explained. Chloe had a puzzled look.

"And how do I know that?"

"You're the psychologist, and you're asking me that? Don't take it personally, but I always thought that psychologists and psychiatrists would fully understand all human interactions."

"In theory, yes. Many times we just know what people want to hear. I'm already questioning my job."

"Before you're a psychologist, you're a person like everyone else. You have doubts and fears. You've told me that many times, I'm throwing the words back at you because they also make sense to you." Beca got even closer to Chloe and took the doctor's hand, the one that wasn't holding the glass of wine and stroked it with her thumb. Chloe looked at the gesture and then at Beca's eyes.

"Do you realize why I'm doing this?" asked Beca with a whisper. Chloe nodded, her eyes making contact with Beca's.

"Yes, you're trying to comfort me."

"Exactly. If you were Jesse, for example, maybe I wouldn't do it this way. We don't hug each other."

"And what would you do to comfort him, for example?"

"I would probably pat him on the shoulder, but I would never hold his hand. I'm not a big fan of physical contact."

"Then why are you doing this to me?"

"Once again, it depends on the person. I feel more comfortable with you." Beca was blushing a little bit.

"For being a woman?"

"No, 'course not. It's a matter of knowing how to read people. Are you uncomfortable with me stroking your hand?" Chloe smiled.

"Not at all."

"Okay, but if you were I wouldn't do it again."

"I'm starting to think that I was really lucky to never get patients having trouble making friends."

"I'm sure you'd know what to tell them, even if you didn't know it from experience."

"You really trust my abilities."

"The fact that I notice that my anxiety has decreased a lot is a great proof of your abilities. In friendship there are no mistakes, there is learning. That's the good thing about friends."

"No one ever kissed me on the forehead before. Except my parents, of course."

-No one? Not even a boyfriend?

"Not at all."

"I believe you, you always remember the most unusual things. But...did you get uncomfortable?"

"No, no. I found it kind of odd, maybe."

-That's normal. I do and say a lot of odd things. I'm not worried about it." She kissed Chloe's forehead again. "Is it still odd?"

"A little bit?" started the unsure psychologist. Beca gave her another kiss. Chloe smiled.

"And now?"

"Less odd, I guess."

"Practice makes things perfect." Beca kissed her again and went to the couch. "With your permission," Beca said, before sitting down. Chloe followed her and chose the armchair instead. She turned the television on. There was a dance contest on.

"I would suck at this, I have two left feet." Beca said with a smirk.

"I'm sure you wouldn't."

"I would be going to the emergency room with a dislocated hip, that's all."

"I think you can do far more than you say."

"Oh, really? Like what, for example? Beca asked, intrigued.

"I'm pretty sure you can dance. You should also be very good at playing sports. And you have not yet let me read anything you've written, but it must be a pleasant reading."

"Well, if you want I have my notebook with me. I mean, it's in the car."

"You don't need to go to the car now, it's cold."

"Thank you for encouraging me to exercise. I'll be right back." Beca rose from the sofa and left the house. She came back a minute later with a notebook in her hand.

"I thought you'd use your computer to write."

"There's nothing like writing on a sheet of paper. Choose a page randomly and good luck." Beca said extending the notebook to Chloe. The psychologist took it and stared at Beca as she turned the pages. Seconds later she stopped at one.

"Can I read out loud? Chloe asked. Beca rolled her eyes.

"If it makes you happier."

"October 3rd, 2011",Chloe started "I no longer think of you every day. I can't remember you as easily as I used to. I don't dream about you every night anymore. You stand behind one of the many doors that lead to nowhere and occupy space in my head. It's a room I can't clean. It's full of things that were important once and that have no meaning now. But whenever I open that door and turn on the light, I feel the same infinite anguish that comes with your name. The air thickens and I can't breathe sometimes. I stand in the doorway, looking around the room. Sometimes I'm a masochist. I sit in a corner, with my head craddled between my knees and my hands trembling on the floor.

You'll always have that effect on me. No. You will always have an effect on me. Sometimes we try so hard to forget someone and the only thing we forget is to remember that person. That was the only thing I did. I forgot to remember you. I climbed a bench and put you on a very high shelf just so I didn't fall into the temptation of going to see you every day. But sometimes I get on that same bench and I'm perched on the edge of the bookshelf, with my eyes on you.

I lost count of the number of things I wrote you. I have the texts scattered around the house as I have the small pieces I keep from you. You're in my old notebooks, in the backpacks I no longer use, in the records I no longer listen to. You are in the dozens of pens that went out of ink just from repeating your name along a white page.

I can only blame myself and you can only blame me. Of all the times I had to close other doors in the depths of my brain, I opened that one to remind myself that I had already done the most difficult thing; leave you behind. And yet I let myself be caught by the suffocating weight of those memories, as if everything had just collapsed before my eyes.

I hear your voice from time to time, but I don't always realize that I'm hearing it. I keep you away from me, on that same shelf where I put you and from where you have a privileged view of everything I do and everything I am. But the most important thing was realizing the reason for all the texts, all the excruciatingly painful moments. Everything I have talked about you and about us has led me to the conclusion that there're things that can never be explained with words.

Whenever I need to empty my head, I go into that room. I put two or three things together and decide to get rid of them because deep down you don't need me anymore. I also had to forget how much I missed you. And then I end up putting everything back in the same place, like I've ruined your things. I look once more at the room, with my hand on the doorknob, and realize that, deep down, I will never be able to forget you completely. We never forget who really was important in our lives. We never forget those we once loved as if our existence depended on it. We never forget, even if we insist on not remembering."

Beca avoided looking at the psychologist. Her eyes were fixated on the carpet, as if she had found a coin or a strange footprint. When she dared to look at Chloe, she saw her carefully wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her blouse.

"Okay. Either the text was very bad or you related to it." concluded Beca. Chloe bit her lip for a second, "You don't have to tell me. I know how those stories can be painful. I mean, you already know my love life completely."

"Is this related to Charlie?" Chloe asked, her voice trembling. Beca nodded.

"Yeah, it is."

"But this was written long after you broke up, right?"

"I've always been writing texts about him or to him, even if I had no intention of giving them to Charlie. I also wrote him a lot of lyrics and stuff. It helped me cope with things, I guess." Beca explained, shrugging her shoulders and taking another sip of her wine.

"So, it's still hard for you to talk about this?"

"It isn't. Let me think of an analogy. Okay, imagine that you hurt yourself. You have that whole healing process. And you might not, because I can't imagine you doing that, but there are people who insist on not letting a wound heal. They are constantly taking the scab off, they don't let the wound get air. Lots of stuff. Even so, after a while, it eventually heals. You have scars that you notice a little more and others you barely see. Usually the ones you notice, come from deeper wounds, you had to be stitched, I dunno. Charlie is almost like a deep wound. I have a very large scar but it doesn't hurt. It's there. When I look at it I go back to the moment when I hurt myself and that's the memory that hurts. I don't know if it was a good analogy, but I think you get it."

"Yes, it made a lot of sense. You have a way of explaining things."

"I think you've identified with my story again. Why are you so afraid of telling me your story? Are you afraid of telling someone, or is it just that you have trouble digging through memories?"

"How can you be so sure there's a story?"

"Dunno. Call it instinct. I'm not wrong."

"No."

"If you don't want to tell me the story, I'm not going to be upset. I'm kidding, I don't want to pressure you at all."

"I never told the story out loud, I never had anyone to listen to it. Besides Bree, of course. But she really hates this story."

"I'm here. Try me." assured Beca. Chloe looked at her for a few seconds until she sighed deeply in resignation.

"Well, this happened when I went to college." Chloe began and Beca winced immediatly.

"That's the beginning of every bad story."

Okay, let me explain a few things. In the movies, we get the idea that Beca doesn't enjoy physical contact. I relate to a lot of things in Beca's personality. I think she's not very good at dealing with her feelings, maybe she's afraid of showing them because it will make things awkward or just because she isn't used to them. But I don't mind hugging some people, it depends on the relationship I have with them. Beca feels at ease with Chloe. I think the biggest AU here is Chloe's personality. In the movies she's always ready to hug someone (mostly Beca), and she's also bubbly and happy. Chloe is a bit different in my story. Not like she's completely different from the movies, she just hasn't got there yet. She's a backstory which you'll get to know in next chapter.

Thank you again for all your kind words and for following the story. It means a lot, no sarcasm here.