- Part 1 -
Arrhythmia
It seems the more we talk,
The less I have to say.
Let's put our differences aside.
I wanted to make you proud,
But I just got in your way.
I found a place that I can hide.
-Lifehouse
Aubrey has never been good at small talk outside of business parties, formal events, and special occasions with Chloe that require polite mingling. In those situations, she understands the point of it: to prevent fires that start from more serious conversations about religion, politics, and why Beca is always so rude. In casual situations, however, the point is a little less clear and she usually remains silent, watching Chloe be the one to chat about everything from the weather to The Yankees. Aubrey occasionally tries to comment on the little things, but somehow talking about the sun never sounds the same coming from Aubrey's mouth as it does coming from Chloe's. So rather than state the obvious that it's starting to get cold outside, she listens to the sound of her own breathing as she walks beside Beca and glances at her out of the corner of her eye. She tries to gauge Beca's thoughts to determine whether they should remain in silence or if she's supposed to say something. She doesn't know what kind of situation this is or how it's supposed to work.
Beca glances at her for a fraction of a second then looks at her again. "What?" she asks.
It takes Aubrey a moment to realize she's staring. She averts her gaze, hoping it's too dark to see the warmth on her face. "Nothing."
"Is there something on my face?" Beca lifts her hand and wipes at her mouth with the back of it. She mumbles something against her hand that sounds peculiarly like, 'Not that you'd tell me if there was.'
Aubrey looks at her again, choosing to ignore the comment that had been tagged onto the end. She shakes her head and mouths the word 'no'.
Beca lowers her hand and shoves both hands into the pocket of her jacket. "I forgot judgmental is just what your face looks like," she says.
"I wasn't judging," Aubrey informs her.
"Then what were you doing?" Beca asks.
Aubrey tries to determine whether or not the question is rhetorical. She's never been very good at that either. She takes a few hastened steps and stops in front of Beca, turning to face her.
Beca halts before crashing into her and looks at her with a tilted head and a bemused smile. "Is this the part where you kill me?" she whispers in an amused yet irritated tone.
Aubrey ignores the question. That one was rhetorical, she's sure. She draws in a breath of salty air and fumbles for words. "I wanted to be your friend, Beca." The words rush out, strained and unsure. They sound nothing like they would have coming from Chloe's mouth, not natural at all. Her face flushes crimson; she can feel the heat starting in her cheeks and spreading across her nose. "I tried to be your friend." Her entire face suddenly feels like it's on fire. "But I'm not good at talking to people the way that Chloe is."
For the briefest of seconds, Beca's eyes widen and she becomes serious. Then Aubrey blinks and the expression is replaced by a smirk. "You never wanted to be my friend, Aubrey," she says and steps around her then continues walking toward the clinic.
Aubrey spins on her heels to face Beca's back. "Yes, I did, Beca," she calls after her – more confident than before but also louder than she means to be. She's glued to her spot, waiting, hoping that Beca will turn around and look at her – and maybe see that she's telling the truth, that she's still trying. She folds her arms tighter across her chest, comforted by the warmth of her jacket. Turn around, Beca. She wonders if this was what Beca felt like while waiting for Aubrey to accept her apology for ruining the set list. She realizes she needs to stop living in the past, but a past is all she has with Beca.
Beca finally turns and takes a few steps backward before coming to a complete stop, holding her hands a few inches out from her sides. "Yeah, well, I guess I'm no Chloe when it comes to making friends either," she says then shrugs. "But what are we going to do?"
That question might be rhetorical as well, but Aubrey still tries to think of an answer. Even rhetorical questions have answers. Sometimes, she studies Chloe as she makes friends, wondering how she can relay so much information about herself to a person she just met – and how she manages to convince that person to relay an equal amount, if not more, back. Chloe is warm, she is touchy-feely, and when she meets people, she talks to them. Sometimes, it's just small talk. Other times, she really speaks. Aubrey looks at Beca and tries to think about all the facts they know about each other. She weeds through their judgments and assumptions and opinions, and realizes that they never spoke much about themselves to each other at all.
Beca's hands hit her sides.
"I like to play the piano," Aubrey speaks. Her voice wavers and she twists the fabric of her sleeves around her fingers, nearly cutting off the circulation. Suddenly it isn't just her face burning, but her entire body. She stares off to the side, looking for facts about herself in the trees, unable to face Beca's reaction to her words. "I have two younger brothers, and also a younger sister that I've never met. When I was little, on the Fourth of July, my brothers and I used to sneak onto the roof after our father went to bed and watch fireworks. It was the only time we ever got along." She thinks her hands are shaking, but she isn't sure, and she can hear the sound of her own heartbeat. "No one knows, but I think Jason Mraz is cute." There has to be more. "I know how to shoot a rifle." Her mouth feels dry. "My father always said that friends were a waste of time, so I never had one until Chloe."
Beca takes a few steps toward her, approaching her like she might a dangerous animal – and Aubrey isn't sure if it's because of a vibe she's giving off or if Beca is really as bad at this friendship thing as she is. "You know I never wanted to take Chloe from you, right?" She stops a few steps away from Aubrey, her shoulders tense but her arms still hanging at her sides. "She never wanted to replace you with me."
"She..." Aubrey's voice trails off and she has to take a few breaths to maintain her composure. The words cause a dull pain in her chest as they leave her mouth. "She doesn't love me like she loves you."
"Are you serious?" Beca asks incredulously. "Are you that fucking dense?"
"I'm going to ignore that," Aubrey says thickly. She is not and will never be dense. 'Dense' is a synonym of 'ignorant', and she knows Quantum Physics.
"Chloe and I were just getting to know each other," Beca continues and takes another step closer to Aubrey. "How long have you known each other?"
"Eight years," Aubrey says with a hint of pride. "You're getting too close," she points out and places her hands out between them, taking a half of a step back.
"Jesus Christ, and you're still blind to her looking at you every day like it's the first time she's ever seen you?" Beca continues to advance on her. "You really hate yourself that much, don't you?"
"I don't hate myself." The words slip from Aubrey's mouth like they're scripted, and Aubrey stops moving. She just knows that she could be better for Chloe, better to Chloe. She just knows that she could be better. It's not hate, just a unyielding desire to be someone better than who she is. Maybe she could even give up being Aubrey altogether. She looks down at the asphalt, knowing she'll never be able to put that feeling into words strong enough for anyone else to understand.
Beca takes a full step back and changes the subject. "I don't know who Jason Mraz is," she says. She continues backward for a few more steps then turns back around in the right direction.
Aubrey lifts her head and blinks. Her legs feel heavy as she follows Beca, but she picks up the pace to catch up with her anyway. "Jason Mraz," she repeats.
"I know what you said," Beca replies.
"That's impossible," Aubrey says. "I know what kind of music you listen to, Beca."
Beca glances at her out of the corner of her eye. "Is this like your Bruno Mars obsession?" she asks.
Aubrey gapes at her. "Bruno Mars is not an obsession," she states. "He is a talented singer who I happen to appreciate."
Beca raises her eyebrows. "Right," she whispers and nods.
"You have to know who Jason Mraz is, Beca," Aubrey insists, not taking her eyes off of her. How could anyone not know who he was? He was all over the radio two years prior. And he's set to release a new album in 3 months – and everyone on social media is talking about it. Okay, maybe not everyone. But there were plenty of articles about it on Google when Aubrey last checked.
Beca turns to look at her again and laughs. "Dude, I don't know," she assures her.
Aubrey is having none of it. She draws in a breath and swallows her pride because Jason Mraz is important.
When I look into your eyes,
It's like watching the night sky,
Or a beautiful sunrise;
There's so much they hold.
Aubrey stares at her, waiting for her to recognize the song.
And just them old stars,
I see that you've come so far,
To be right where you are.
How old is your soul?
"Are you for real? Out of every song he's ever sung, you choose that one?" Beca asks. "Why not Geek in Pink or something actually good?"
Aubrey frowns. "You said you didn't know who he was," she sputters.
"Everyone knows who Jason Mraz is, Aubrey," Beca informs her with a grin. "I just wanted to see if you were gullible enough to sing."
Of course. Why would Aubrey have assumed any differently? She rolls her eyes and looks away from Beca. The worst part is that she fell for it. "It's your turn to say something about yourself," she tells Beca.
"Hey, we're getting close to the bar," Beca says, seeming to have not even heard Aubrey's statement. "Where do we go from here?"
Sure enough, Aubrey can see the red, neon 'The Cannery' sign in the distance. The place must be run by Nikki alone, because all of the other lights on the building are turned off and there are no cars in the parking lot. Despite the temptation to interrogate Beca about herself, Aubrey just pulls out the map and unfolds it.
"Looks like we won't be stopping for a drink on the way back," Beca murmurs and stares at the bar.
"There were drinks at the bonfire," Aubrey reminds her. She looks up from the map and at their surroundings to determine their exact location then back down at the map again. The streetlights are dim and she has to squint. "It should be the next left," she tells Beca and refolds the map, keeping it in her hand. She almost forgot they still need to walk back after all this is through. Her feet are beginning to hurt. She keeps an eye out to her left and continues slowly down the road.
Sure enough, the road to the clinic is a lot like the road to Nikki's. It looks more like a widened walking path that's being taken over by overgrown foliage and rocks.
"Jesse wants a summer home here," Beca says at they cross the main street and step onto the path. "He's going to be spending a lot of summers alone."
"Your street wouldn't look like this," Aubrey assures her in a smug tone. "You'd kill the plants like you killed that bouquet of flowers Chloe gave you once."
Beca narrows her eyes.
Aubrey comes to a stop in front of a wooden sign that says 'Harper's Island Medical Clinic' with the words 'Dr. Ike Campbell' in small print near the bottom. In the clinic, the curtains are all drawn, but the lights are on inside - as is the porch light. On the other side of the street, a house that Aubrey assumes belongs to Dr. Campbell sits in darkness. She places a hand on top of the sign and taps her fingers.
"You gonna tell me why you brought me all the way out here?" Beca asks, "Because it's getting cold and I'm starting to think we should have just called it a night."
It is getting colder as it gets later. Aubrey lets her hand fall from the sign and takes a step toward the clinic door. "Chloe and I were walking to the bonfire earlier, and Chloe thought she heard something coming from the ice cream shop," she says.
"We've addressed that," Beca says, also walking closer to the door.
"I'm trying to tell you what happened," Aubrey tries not to snap. "Then the sheriff showed up at the bonfire because the boy who worked at the shop hanged himself, and his sister is my friend and I needed to drive her home."
"I'm not following." Beca stops in front of the door. She places her one hand on the wall and swats a mosquito away from her face with the other.
Aubrey dodges the bug as it flies in her direction. This whole conversation would be easier if Beca would just let her finish talking. She suddenly wants to fill her in on everything in detail – from the photograph to the music to the letters on the mirror to the conversation she overheard Dr. Mitchell having. Maybe she can convince her to call off the wedding – or, at worst, convince her to get married somewhere not on this island. "I don't think he hanged himself," she says in a low whisper. "I don't think it was an accident. The sheriff said the power lines were cut. Something is happening here, Beca."
"You couldn't have just called this place and asked about him over the phone?" Beca asks, whispering now as well. She glances toward the door.
"And asked what?" Aubrey replies.
"I don't know," Beca answers in a tone that makes it impossible for Aubrey to tell if she's being sarcastic or serious. "If we should be fearing for our lives out here, alone in the dark?"
The door of the clinic swings open and Aubrey and Beca both jump and back away, bumping into each other in the process. They both quickly straighten themselves up and absently fix their clothes in an attempt to regain their composure.
"I thought I heard voices out here," Dr. Campbell says, looking unaware of how he startled them. "When you get old like me, sometimes you think they might just be in your head." He pushes the door open farther. "Come in, come in."
Aubrey and Beca exchange nervous glances. Aubrey quickly gathers herself and straightens her back as she walks toward the door. "Thank you, Sir," she says and steps into the clinic's waiting room.
Beca gives one last look toward the road then follows her in.
"What can I do for you girls?" Dr. Campbell asks as he shuts the door behind him. He stands next to it in his scrubs, his face mask down around his neck and a pen in one hand.
"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Sir." Aubrey looks at Beca again then back at Dr. Campbell. "We just wanted to inquire about Tyler."
"Ah, Tyler." Dr. Campbell looks tired and his features seem to sink in a bit more as he repeats the boy's name. He points at Aubrey with the back of his pen. "You were the one who took his sister home."
Aubrey nods solemnly.
"I'm glad that someone cares enough to come and ask about him," Dr. Campbell says. He steps around Aubrey and Beca and walks toward one of the doors in the room. "I called his sister a few minutes ago. But I wasn't expecting anyone to stop by. Sad that such a good boy had so few friends."
The tiles on the floor suddenly become the center-point of Aubrey's focus as the realization of how impure her motives are begins to make her throat feels like it's constricting. She takes a few deep breaths before finally bringing herself to look at Dr. Campbell again. "I'm sorry for your loss." She scratches at the skin around her thumbnail and resists the urge to turn and walk back out of the clinic "But that's not why we're here."
Beca clears her throat – a gesture that Aubrey is sure is her version of Chloe's 'what Aubrey means to say'. But rather than how Chloe makes Aubrey doubt what she's saying, Beca's disapproval only fuels her.
"Well then what are you here for, Dear?" Dr. Campbell asks, not sounding too put off by Aubrey's words. He glances at Beca. "Would you like a cough drop?"
Beca looks up. She looks back and forth between Aubrey and Dr. Campbell. "No," she answers quickly and shakes her head.
"I wasn't friends with Tyler," Aubrey admits. She avoids looking at Beca and seeing whatever expression she may be giving her. "But I don't think his death was a suicide." Her honesty lifts a weight off of her chest and boosts her confidence in her words and presence.
"It's odd that you should say that," Dr. Campbell says and looks down as he turns the knob and opens the door to an exam room. "Because I think that you may be right." He stands in the doorway and motions them both forward.
There is no relief that comes from his words, only a sinking feeling that starts in Aubrey's chest and ends in her stomach. Even then, Dr. Campbell's words don't even fully sink in. From where she's standing, she can see the top of Tyler's head on the exam table and she realizes that they must have interrupted the post-mortem. She's not up-to-date on Mortuary Laws, but she's sure walking into that room is breaking several of them. She has to pause to wonder if inquiring into information that she has no legal right knowing is worth risking her job for. She stares at Tyler's head. This is a matter of her safety. Of Beca's safety. Of Chloe's safety.
Aubrey looks as Beca and nods her head, giving her the 'okay' to follow Dr. Campbell into the room.
Beca has her eyes closed and her head tilted downward.
Aubrey looks into the room then at Beca again. She folds her arms. "Beca," she hisses in a whisper.
Beca keeps her eyes closed and shakes her head. "Nope," she says.
Aubrey rolls her eyes. She's as bad as Chloe. She leans in so she's a few centimeters away from Beca's ear. "You don't even know what I'm telling you to do when your eyes are closed." She grabs her by the upper arm and drags her in the room after Dr. Campbell.
Beca's eyes fly open. She drags her feet, stopping them both in the doorway. "Aubrey, no." She grabs the side of the doorway like a child being pulled into an exam room against their will. "We got your answer."
Aubrey glances at Dr. Campbell, who has their back to them and is examining Tyler's body. She looks at Beca again. "What if this is the same person who keeps calling us?" she asks, keeping her voice a hushed whisper. "What if this is the same person who stole your ring?"
"You stole my ring," Beca points out. "The other person gave it back." She accidentally gets a glimpse at Tyler behind Aubrey and quickly redirects her gaze away. "Dude, we don't know that this has anything to do with us."
"That's right," Aubrey agrees firmly. "We don't know." She steals a glance at the exam table. "But this could tell us if we need to get off this island right now."
Beca lifts a hand to her forehead and stares Aubrey in the eye. "What is this dead kid's body going to tell us?" She motions toward the room with her free hand. She closes her eyes for a few seconds then opens them again. "Look, maybe I can just, I can just talk to Jesse." She lowers her hand from her forehead.
Aubrey takes her hand off Beca's arm. "And say what, Beca?" she asks as she takes a few steps backward into the exam room. She keeps her breathing as even as possible as she forces herself to look at Tyler's body for a second time that evening. This time is easier; this time he looks like he's sleeping. As Dr. Campbell places his mask back over his face and places his pen on his desk, Aubrey tries to convince herself that he has just put Tyler under anesthesia.
Beca exhales a breath and presses her lips tightly together. She shuffles into the room after Aubrey and stands a few inches behind her, looking at the tiles on the floor.
Aubrey glances back at Beca then folds her arms and looks at Dr. Campbell as he pulls a needle out of a drawer. "What did you find?" she asks. She's well aware of how many boundaries she's crossing just by standing in the room, and she guesses she's going to regret it later – even if it doesn't affect her job. She could be the reason this man gets fired. But she will have to deal with it when the time comes. The thought causes her to fidget.
"I haven't contacted the sheriff yet, but, take a look at this." Dr. Campbell places the needle on a metal table beside the bed then gently pries open Tyler's eyelids. The whites and irises of his eyes are deep red – so dark, it's almost impossible to tell them apart from the pupil.
Aubrey tries to focus on breathing through her nose as she stares into Tyler's eyes, unnerved more by the fact that she's staring into the eyes of a dead person than the color of those eyes. She didn't notice the abnormality while he was hanging from the ceiling – but it was so dark in the ice cream parlor that she could hardly see anything at all.
"Normal, no," Dr. Campbell continues talking, and Aubrey thinks he may be partially speaking to himself. "Natural, maybe." He scratches his bearded chin. "You're always going to get some petechial hemorrhaging with hanging, but I'd call this excessive." He picks up the needle again and examines both of Tyler's eyes.
Aubrey subconsciously takes a step closer to Beca as she watches Dr. Campbell insert the needle straight into the iris of Tyler's left eye and extract some of the color.
Beca looks at Aubrey as she moves closer then finally chances a look at the body – looking straight at the needle. "Oh, Jesus," she hisses and turns around so her back is to the entire scene.
Aubrey does a double take at her and instinctively wraps one of her arms around Beca's front and places her free hand on Beca's shoulder. She's too zeroed in on Dr. Campbell slowly pulling the tip of the needle back out of Tyler's eye to take her sudden close proximity to Beca into account. Beca's muscles are tense, but it's unclear to Aubrey whether it's from Aubrey touching her, the scene that they're witnessing, or a mixture of both. Something in her head tells her to put thought into what she's doing, but she can't tear her mind away from watching Dr. Campbell placing a droplet of red liquid onto a microscope slide.
Dr. Campbell doesn't bother looking at either of them, only squints his eyes at the liquid. "It's viscous like blood," he says, "But I don't know." He shakes his head. "It's going to take me until tomorrow to get a full report on my work." He doesn't look away from the slide. "You should take your friend home and come back in the afternoon."
It takes a few seconds of staring at Dr. Campbell for it to settle in that she forced both herself and Beca into the room to see something that they could have simply reviewed on paper tomorrow. Aubrey looks at Tyler again and realizes that she herself has had enough. Her eyelids feel heavy and her limbs are beginning to feel weighted down. "Thank you," she tells Dr. Campbell simply then turns and places both of her hands on Beca's shoulders, partially guiding, partially pushing her out of the room.
Beca doesn't need the encouragement to leave. She finds the door quickly, uses the frame to steady herself on the way out, then grabs the back of a chair in the waiting room.
Aubrey's hands leave Beca's shoulders and she refolds her arms. She can't help but glance back at the room one more time, still trying to process Dr. Campbell's words. Something just doesn't feel right. She breathes more deeply now that she's not sucking in the stench of the exam room and has to take a moment to catch her breath. "I'm sorry, Beca," she says and looks at her again. She's not sure for what – maybe for dragging her into that room, maybe for the fact that her wedding is being ruined, maybe for the bad start they got off to this week, hell, maybe for all of that and more.
Beca stares at the floor and exhales slowly then looks up at Aubrey, still holding onto the back of the chair. She appears more thrown off by the situation than anything; Chloe would have been sheet-white and trying not to panic. There's a hint of franticness behind Beca's eyes, but she hides it so well that Aubrey almost misses it. "So, what do we do?" she asks, her voice still low.
"We come back tomorrow afternoon," Aubrey says. It's the only answer she can think of. There is nothing that they can accomplish on this island in the middle of the night – unless Beca wants to wake up Jesse and tell him to charter a boat to get every guest out of this place first thing in the morning. She's tempted to suggest it, but she wants to make sure she keeps Beca on her side.
xxxxx
Aubrey can barely keep herself on her feet by the time they arrive back at the inn. She leans against the wall next to the door of her room and fishes for her key in her pocket, deciding she could do one-hundred all-nighters at the law office she works for and still not feel this exhausted. She pulls out her key and looks down at Beca, who has leaned over to rub her right, lower calf. She watches her drearily. "Do you want to stay?" She knows she'll have to wake her up before Chloe wakes up, but she can't see that being much of an issue.
Beca massages the muscle with both hands for several moments then cringes and stands back up straight. "Jesse's probably wondering where I am," she replies. "No doubt he's waiting up for me."
Aubrey nods and ignores the sinking feeling in her stomach. She fumbles to get her key in the lock and turns it in both directions until it clicks. There would always be a chance that Chloe would wake up briefly for a glass of water and see Beca anyway. It was better to be safe than have to explain their entire night when all Aubrey wants to do is sleep. She breathes a sigh and pulls the key from the lock then grabs the handle of the door.
"Hey, uh, Aubrey," Beca says before Aubrey can push open the door.
Aubrey turns around again to face her.
"I'm an only child," Beca says and rubs her arm. "My dad, um, he and Sheila tried, but I kind of made it miserable for them." She looks at the grass and slowly starts walking backward away from the room. "Um, my favorite color is blue. I don't think Jason Mraz is cute." She makes a straight face. "At all." She shakes her head.
Aubrey presses her hand against the door handle to give her more support as she stands up straighter, realizing what Beca is doing. She stares at her with her lips pressed together, listening to her talk.
Beca laughs quietly, seemingly at her own thoughts. "When I was five, I was one of those kids who thought they were going to grow up to be a dinosaur. I wrote it on a class paper once, and my teacher tried to make me redo it, but I was pretty adamant about growing up to be a Stegosaurus." Her grin fades and she looks up at Aubrey, halfway to the corner of the inn now. "And I don't love Jesse."
Aubrey shuffles her weight from one foot to the other as Beca's words sink it. Her grip on the door tightens. "Then why are you marrying him?" she dares to ask.
Beca lifts her shoulders in a shrug. "I realized it was easier to spend my life with someone who loves me than with someone who loves me and someone who never could." She lets her shoulders drop and her hands hit her upper thighs. She turns around, giving Aubrey one last glance, then walks around the corner of the inn, leaving Aubrey standing outside alone.
Aubrey's eyes remain glued to the space where Beca had just been. Her limbs go from heavy to numb. She waits for what feels like an hour for Beca to come back and mock her with some sort of 'Dude, I'm kidding', but Beca doesn't. '...with someone who loves me and someone who never could.' They're the only words she can hear, and they echo repeatedly in the back of her mind. Somewhere in the grass, there are crickets that try to make up for the sudden silence surrounding her and overpower the thoughts inside of her head, but they seem distant – almost like she is listening to them from underwater as the island swallows her up. She taps her nails against the metal knob and lowers her gaze to her feet. It hits her like a brick that it's mostly true; Aubrey could never love Beca like Chloe does.
The leaves on the surrounding trees rustle loudly as a swift breeze blows through the branches. Aubrey turns and opens the door, flooding the yard with light. She glances one last time in the direction where Beca disappeared then steps inside and shuts the door behind her – checking multiple times to make sure it's locked. The sudden rush of heat from inside the room does nothing to warm her up, but she barely registers that she feels cold anymore anyway. She glances at Amy, who is fast asleep on the couch, then leans down and unties her shoes. She kicks them off by the door and places the room key on the stand beside them. She takes her jacket off next and hangs it on a hook by the door. The noise she's making doesn't even cause Amy to stir, so she forgets about her desire to sleep on the couch and walks past her toward the bedroom.
She feels safer with someone else in the room anyway.
Chloe is still fast asleep, almost exactly in the same position that Aubrey originally left her in – except now she's wrapped up like a burrito in the blankets.
Aubrey tugs her shirt over her head as she makes her way across the room then folds it and places it neatly on the dresser. She rub her hands up and down her goosebump covered arms then shimmies out of her pants as well and places them underneath her shirt. She's as quiet as possible as she pulls out a dresser drawer and locates her pajamas. Once again, she wishes she had packed something warmer, and for a brief second, she considers stealing Chloe's clothes instead. She turns her head and glances at Chloe, debating whether or not to wake her up in order to ask to borrow a pair of sweatpants that would no doubt be too short on her anyway. She decides against it and pulls out her tank-top and shorts. The temperature in the room seems to drop another few degrees as she removes her bra and panties then slips into her pajamas. She folds her arms tightly across her chest as she turns to face the bed.
"Chloe," she whispers as she walks over and sits down on the edge of the bed. She tugs at the comforter and carefully tries to unwrap Chloe from it.
Chloe stretches out her legs and reaches her arms up over her head without waking up. She rubs her face then unrolls herself from the blanket and gets comfortable again on her stomach, facing Aubrey.
Aubrey quickly slides under the blankets, cringing at the grains of sand that she swears she can feel scattered across the bed. They're about as pleasant as the faint stench of saltwater and alcohol that seems to be clinging to everything. She curls up on her side and looks at Chloe, their faces just inches apart, Chloe's hand between their noses.'...with someone who loves me and someone who never could.' The words cause her lungs to close up as she wonders if Chloe feels the same, if that's what drew her to Beca. If it wasn't for Aubrey (and Jesse), Aubrey has no doubt that it would be Beca and Chloe in bed together right now, and that Chloe would feel loved.
Aubrey draws in a breath of hesitation then scoots a few centimeters closer to Chloe before she can think enough to stop herself. She slides her hand up the bed and stops when her fingers are on top of Chloe's wrist. She feels like she's breaking some sort of unspoken law that she's made for herself about not being the one to initiate intimacy. She waits for Chloe to wake up and give her some sort of approval or disapproval, but Chloe just sighs in her sleep, and Aubrey is tempted to pull her hand away before she's caught doing the wrong thing. She keeps a close eye on Chloe's expression as she slips her fingers between Chloe's thumb and pointer finger and gently strokes the back of her hand with her thumb.
Chloe twists her hand. Aubrey's breath catches in her throat. She lifts her head and her face flushes with shame, but before she can jolt away, Chloe places her hand on top and laces their fingers. She lightly squeezes Aubrey's hand then relaxes again with a barely visible smile on her lips.
It takes a moment for Aubrey to realize she's holding her breath, and only then it's because the lack of oxygen is making her lightheaded. She exhales slowly and keeps an eye on Chloe as she slowly lowers her head again, half using their hands as a pillow. The movement seems to be okay with Chloe so Aubrey finally looks away and stares downward toward the bottom of the bed. She wonders where they would be now had she and Beca managed to overcome their differences – if it would be the three of them together. Maybe they would all have a summer home together if Aubrey was capable of loving them correctly.
She no longer feels worthy of holding Chloe's hand.
Aubrey props herself up on her elbow and careful extracts her fingers from Chloe's grip. Her hand immediately feels cold again. "I'm sorry, Chloe," she whispers even though she knows Chloe won't hear her. She looks at her for a moment longer then lays down on her back and stares up at the ceiling with drooping eyelids.
xxxxx
Sunlight peaks through the curtains and glares down directly onto Aubrey's face. She tries to tolerate it for as long as possible, waiting for the clock to tell her it's a decent time to get out of bed and start her day. But each minute is drawn out into several hours and no time seems to pass. She considers waking up now, but she's not sure she can even try, not while her mind is finally beginning to replace thoughts of Chloe and Beca with silence. She rolls onto her side with her back to Chloe and buries her face in her arm to block out the light, welcoming the impending emptiness. It isn't until around the time that she would usually be waking up that she's able to finally close her eyes and get some sleep.
Now everything is changing,
But I still feel the same.
Are we running out of time?
What do I have to do,
To try to make you see,
That this is who I am,
And it's all that I can be.
-Lifehouse
