validate me?
Dysrhythmia
This is the sound of one voice;
One spirit, one voice.
The sound of one who makes a choice;
This is the sound of one voice.
- Wailin' Jennys
"You know this isn't necessary, right?" Brian asks, "We have a place to live."
"No one is forcing you to move into an expensive, lavish home that you'd never be able to afford on your own." Aubrey barely looks up from the blank sheet of paper laying on the stage by her legs. "You can continue living here in your tiny two bedroom apartment positioned directly over top of an actual public restaurant."
"It's a café."
Aubrey hums in response. "What do you think, Beca, walk-in showers or baths with water jets?"
"Both," Beca answers, "Definitely both. I'm thinking heated bathroom floors too."
"Ooh, I like that." Aubrey looks at him. "Enjoy your cold floors forever."
"Heated floors aren't actually that much money. But, you know what, fine, I'll be your neighbor on the condition that I don't have to take the trash out to the curb. If we can't make that compromise, I'm out."
"I'll think about it." Aubrey taps her pencil against the page and resumes thinking as he walks away. "What about two apartments in the front and two in the back? I kind of like that idea of a middle room." What she likes is the idea of being able to get to everyone without needing to walk outside alone. She also wants a sturdy iron gate, barbed wire, and hired security, but that can be figured out later.
"Yeah. Are we thinking two stories?"
Aubrey nods. She's thinking four full-sized apartments. That leads to the next question though of how many rooms per section. Her entire future is up in the air now. If her place has too many bedrooms, it's going to be a constant reminder that she's alone. If Chloe wakes up and there isn't enough, what about kids?
"You know there's no deadline for this," Beca says, watching her expression, "We don't have to plan it all right now. We don't have to do any of it right now."
"No, I know."
"We could just, I don't know, look at the sky for awhile."
"The sky?" Aubrey asks and looks up, "It's all smog."
Beca lowers herself onto her back. "You also know we don't have to stay here, right? We could move somewhere where there's clouds and stars."
Aubrey lays down next to her with her hand rested on her stomach. Chloe loves stars. But where would they go? The country and the woods are too isolated. Those are completely out of the question. And Aubrey isn't exactly the small town kind of girl anymore – especially not now, not when everyone who watches the news would be able to recognize her.
"Or we could stay here," Beca adds, "Clouds aren't that important. I love smog, actually. Hate the environment… I don't even recycle. Even if there's a recycling bin nearby, that plastic bottle goes straight to the landfill to decimate the sea turtle population. I even love global warming. If those polar bears can't learn to appreciate some tropical weather then-"
Aubrey lifts her hand then backhands Beca in the stomach.
"I'm also a flat-earther."
"Stop. It still hurts to laugh."
"I think that's your personality, not your physical status," Beca remarks. She grabs her hand to keep her from pulling it away – or perhaps she thinks Aubrey is going to smack her again. Either way, their fingers end up intertwined. "I'm glad you're okay. Also, that owl is freaking me out a little bit." She props herself up on her elbows. "It's staring right at me. Is that normal?"
Aubrey squints her eyes at the space where a tree branch rests on the gate. "I don't think that's a real owl, Beca. It's a statue."
"That doesn't make it any less freaky."
It is kind of unnerving.
Beca turns her back to it. "If I don't see it, it can't see me."
"That's probably John and Gail's security camera," Aubrey jokes.
"It's still weird that they didn't come back! You have to admit it."
"It is…" Aubrey examines a real bird that lands on a branch. It's beautiful – black with red wings. "Do you think we're ever going to feel happy again? Like truly happy?" It flies away and she watches it go until it's gone as Beca looks elsewhere and responds with silence. That's what she thought. She picks herself back up and looks at their paper. Quadruplex. One room in the middle. She doodles a balcony hallway with four doors on the second floor interior where they can all exit their own apartments and travel down stairs to the central area.
"Chloe's going to love that," Beca says, placing her finger in the very middle, "And place where everyone can be together. I have some ideas for what it should look like on the outside."
"Okay." Aubrey angles herself so they're sitting diagonal from each other and have a clear view of each other's drawings.
"I've always liked brick houses – but the brown ones, you know?"
Aubrey looks up at her.
"You hate it."
"No. I love those too, actually."
"The one thing we have in common and it's our preferred color of bricks." Beca laughs. "Next thing you know, we'll even enjoy the same color siding."
"Color on three?" Aubrey asks.
They both count down, "One, two..." Aubrey says white as Beca says brown.
"…it's a start," Aubrey offers, "It's a big house; we can figure out how to do both."
"How about brown siding and you get a white balcony outside?" Beca tries to compromise.
"Deal."
xxxxx
The weather cools down quickly and without warning. The sun drops behind the tree and all of a sudden it feels like Fall. They gather up their papers, filled mostly with only sketches of various ideas, and carry them back up the fire escape to get inside. Aubrey makes space on the dresser for their work and stacks everything neatly.
"Now what?" Beca asks.
"I guess we just sit here." Aubrey plants herself on the edge of the bed. They could watch TV. Play a board game. Listen to music. All the things they've done repeatedly for eight days straight. "We could go back to figuring out why this all happened."
"Is that really what you want to do?" Beca asks.
There's no one exact answer to that question.
"We can let it go, Aubrey. We can let it go and start figuring out how to move on. It doesn't have to be everything you think about."
Aubrey places her hand between her kneecaps and rocks forward a little.
"I know you're bored, but we can do something else. There has to be something else we can do."
It feels like Aubrey has done everything there is to do. Crossword puzzles. Word finds. Sudoku. And all the things she wants to do, she can't.
"Maybe your mom has an idea," Beca suggests.
xxxxx
"We're bored," Beca claims.
Julia looks up from her phone and leans back against the couch. "Why don't you go outside?"
"We were just outside working on the house."
Aubrey sighs and collapses on the chair.
"Go collect some pretty leaves or some acorns. Or go play fetch with the dog."
Those all sound like ideas for five year olds. That kind of exhaustion that sleep can't fix washes back over her and she leans forward to rub her face.
"I don't know what to tell you, Girls. I'm sorry. Do you want to play a board game?"
"No," Beca answers, "I think it's fine. Aubrey, let's go back to the bedroom."
Aubrey pushes herself back up and trails after her. The only option left is to try to sleep. To just sleep until…well, possibly forever. She falls back on the bed, one arm off to the side, legs dangling over the edge. "I can't remember what people do all day."
"That's because all you've ever done is work and study." Beca shuts the door behind her and collapses next to her.
"Well, what do you do all day?"
"Mix music. Which I can't really do here… We are really well-rounded. What about Chloe? What does she do all day?"
Everything and absolutely nothing at the exact same time. Maybe if Aubrey had bothered to do whatever it is that Chloe spent her time doing with her, she'd have a better understanding of it.
"Do you want to have sex?" Beca asks.
Aubrey isn't sure what part of 'it still hurts to laugh' that Beca doesn't quite understand.
"I'm serious. It's not like we'd be bored doing that."
"Speak for yourself." Aubrey sighs and sits up. "Fine."
"Well now I don't know if I want to."
"Go lock the door and the fire escape," Aubrey demands. The last thing she needs is anyone in this house barging in on them.
"Yes, Ma'am." Beca sends her a wink as she gets up to do what she's told.
"Why are you so annoying?"
"I don't know; I never bothered to think that deeply into it. I imagine there's not one exact reason behind it. Is this still a hands off ordeal?"
That part Aubrey has to really consider. Something feels wrong about Chloe no longer being the last person who touched her that way, especially if it may never happen again, but some actual release wouldn't exactly be unwelcome. She nods. "But I'm not opposed to you using…other means." That seems like an okay compromise.
"Other means…" Beca muses, "What does that mean?"
"I don't know. You could put your mouth to good use for once. Or the dick you claim to have."
"You are the only one still talking about that." Beca climbs back into bed beside her. "Do you want help with your buttons or should I prepare myself for this to take the rest of the day?"
"You have something better to do?"
"Yeah. Orgasm."
Aubrey holds direct eye contact while slowly unbuttoning her sweater, taking her grand ole time.
"Is this your version of foreplay?"
"I get off on pissing you off."
"That I believe." Beca reaches over and gives Aubrey's shirt a rough tug.
"You know the buttons go through the holes, right?"
"I thought it was going to be like in the movies where the buttons rip off and go flying everywhere," Beca admits and takes to unbuttoning them for her, "It's actually a lot harder than it looks. Why are you even wearing a sweater?"
"Because it's Autumn and the sleeves of this actually fit over my cast? It's better than what you're wearing."
Beca looks down at the plain blue t-shirt that Aubrey assumes was provided for her by Julia. "Well if you had let me actually shop at the mall, I'd have more clothes." She helps her slide her shirt off both arms then drops it on the floor, mentioning nothing about the clothes that Aubrey picked out from Chloe's room. "I feel like this brings a whole new meaning to 'casual' sex," she claims, absently scratching her arm, "Are you ready?"
The shock from the gunshot wound is wearing off, and Aubrey squirms a little under her gaze. Telling herself how many times Beca has seen her shoulder over the past several days does nothing to ease her sudden discomfort about it. It has to be revolting to look at – especially during sex. "I think the curtains are blackout," she says, "Let's turn the lights off."
"Aubrey, I've already seen everything there is to see." Beca climbs out of bed to turn out the lights anyway.
The curtains don't actually block out all of the light, but they do enough to keep the wound and how visible her ribs have become from being right there in their faces. "Do I smell like vomit?" she dares to ask as Beca crawls back into bed next to her.
"You smell like you."
Aubrey turns in her direction.
"No. That's not your default smell. You smell like your soap and perfume – the same as you always smell. Neither of us smelled great for a few days, but it's fine now."
Aubrey knows Beca's silence is her waiting for Aubrey to imply Beca still smells bad, but the desire to joke around has faded.
"I'm serious. You smell good. Uh, is there any particular way you want to do this?"
"I don't know," Aubrey answers, "I wasn't exactly sitting here outlining it like an erotica novel."
"Do you read those?" Beca asks as she undresses herself.
There isn't really a good answer to that question.
"You read porn?"
"What? No. I read romance novels sometimes." Okay, often. "And, occasionally, the characters have sex like any other romantically involved people."
"You read Fifty Shades of Grey, didn't you?"
"That's Chloe's bookshelf. Are we having sex or just talking about it in fiction?"
"I was just going to ask you your favorite scenes so maybe we could get some ideas here – unless you want to continue that first time in the shower."
Aubrey's cheeks feel warm. Maybe she had gone a little bit overboard in the moment, but with everything going on, she had needed to feel as though something, anything, was in her control.
"I was being serious," Beca says, "You'll barely let me touch you and it's not like you're the easiest to please to begin with. I'm just looking for something to go off of here so you don't get bored."
"I'm already bored. You can start by taking off my pants." Aubrey lays back against the pillows. "I'm waiting."
"You barely gave me two seconds." Beca slides her underwear off along with her pants. "It's really hard to see where the stitches in your stomach are in the dark."
That's kind of the point. So much for ever having that Bellas bikini-ready body again with a scar across her stomach. "First of all, they took them out. Second, if I did want your fingers inside of me, I'd hope you know the difference between locating my g-spot and unsewing me and groping my internal organs." Even in the dark, she can see Beca press a hand to her face in frustration and she laughs in response – something between real amusement and nervous giggles at the thought of any more stress on her body.
"Are you okay?" Beca asks.
"Yeah." Sort of. She closes her eyes and spreads her legs apart, breathing slow as Beca kisses the inside of her thigh. "Have you ever had sex using a shower head before?"
"I'm not sure I want to answer that question," Beca mumbles against her skin, "Why? Are you considering detachable shower heads in your new bathroom?"
"Chloe wants one, but I think it's kind of unsanitary."
"So is full-on having your mouth on someone else's vagina," Beca comments, "Still worth it though."
Aubrey arches her back and slides her fingers into her own hair as Beca proves her point. Shower heads can be cleaned – and it's not as though the metal itself is being pressed up in there. How much different is it really between using one for pleasure and using one to rinse off soap from down there? It's just a matter of the length of time it's hovering in that spot – right? It is definitely more sanitary than what she and Beca are currently doing. "Maybe we should invest in a vibrator or something?" Not that she's complaining about their current position.
"Do you want to have a conversation or do you want me to keep going?" Beca asks, "Because it's not exactly easy to talk and still put my mouth to what you say is better use."
"Keep going. I'm not talking for you to answer anyway."
"You literally asked me a question. Two questions."
"Beca."
"Sorry."
Aubrey sinks down into the pillow, letting Beca's tongue do all the work for her. This is what she's supposed to be doing, right? Relaxing? Probably not in a way where all of the muscles in her stomach tense whenever Beca hits the right spot, but, hey, she could be up overworking herself. At least this way she's lying down.
She draws it out for herself for awhile, until Beca seems to be getting tired, taking advantage of how her mind doesn't seem to feel like wandering. It's content to be in the dark room, focused solely on the currents of pleasure running through her. That's a first. It's still over too quickly. It all ends in a rather mediocre five seconds of gratification, at no fault of Beca, that fizzles into a dull throbbing.
"Shit, it was bad, wasn't it?" Beca asks.
"It wasn't," Aubrey tries to assure her.
"It so was."
"Beca, my body is tired." Aubrey props herself up on her elbow – a feat that takes a good portion of energy. The favor needs to be returned, but the thought of Beca's stupid rating system makes her hesitate.
"Do you want to stop?"
No. She just doesn't want to be anything less than a ten. She wants to do a good job.
"Hey. Aubrey."
"No. That's not what I meant by tired." Even though now it sort of is.
"Are you sure? Because sex is supposed to be one of those low pressure things that you don't feel like you have to do…"
Aubrey laughs. "You're not assaulting me, if that's what you're worried about."
"No, I know. I've already dealt with the consequences of insulting you, so I think I'd really know if I was assaulting you. I was just…being polite?"
"Aw, Beca…"
"I'm trying to be nice to you and you're using it to be condescending," Beca accuses.
Aubrey wraps her in a one-armed hug that knocks them both over. "I just never thought I'd see the day Beca Mitchell cared so much."
"You suck."
"I can't do anything in this position," Aubrey realizes, finding no way to hold herself upright and touch Beca at the same time, "We're going to have to get up."
"You knocked us over while you were harassing me for being nice to you."
That's besides the point. Aubrey sits back up on her knees. "Well, get up."
"We literally have all day – and probably the next day and the day after that too." Beca pulls herself up using the headboard then leans sideways against it. "We might as well take our time – although if you plan on rebuttoning your sweater after this, I can see why you're in such a rush; there is only a few weeks left to get ready for the pumpkin patch." She presses her face against the top of the headboard as Aubrey pushes her palm flat between her legs, giving her pressure but no friction. "You button buttons faster than any person I know."
Aubrey rolls her eyes. "How long is the ass-kissing phase going to last?"
"I estimate until you start moving your hand."
She's wet enough already that Aubrey can easily slide two fingers inside of her without warning. It takes her a little bit by surprise that going down on her must have turned Beca on. "Are you in love with me?"
"That is a big question to be asking someone when you have your fingers inside of them," Beca replies.
Aubrey lets her hand fall back down to her side.
"I didn't mean remove them. Oh my god, you are the actual worst."
"Are you? Because I've gotten a lot mixed signals over the past several years."
"Is there a right and a wrong answer to this question?" Beca asks.
"I just want to know where we actually stand for once - honestly."
"I…" It's impossible to see her expression in the dark as her voice trails off. "I think that I like you a lot more than I used to – like a lot more. I definitely care about you. But I don't think that I'm in love with you. I think this is just sex. Is that…okay? What do you feel?"
"Chloe really put on a lot of pressure." And with that came a lot of intense feelings – mostly feelings stemming from just not wanting to lose her no matter what that took. "I don't think I'm in love with you either."
"That's fine. I mean, we don't have to be in love with each other to love each other, right? We can still work on being friends. I'm not going to let Chloe pursue me anymore – and I don't expect this to keep happening once she wakes up. But that doesn't mean we have to go back to hating each other. We can just be good friends."
"I'd like that."
"Then put your hand back where it was before I change my mind."
"Being a little bold for someone at my mercy, aren't you?" Aubrey remarks.
"Yeah, yeah." There's good humor in her tone. Beca reaches forward and tucks some of her hair behind her ear. It's a tender act that takes Aubrey off-guard. "Sorry, I just-"
"It's okay." It makes her ache for Chloe. She remembers what she's supposed to be doing and slips her hand back into position. "You're not going to share how you'd rate this moment with anyone in this house, right?" It's not as though they have any other mutual friends now.
"It was a stupid thing to say," Beca replies, "I just wanted to piss you off. I'm sorry. You're good at sex. You're good at everything. But, hey, if that's too much work right now, don't worry about it. I won't tell anyone."
It takes Aubrey a moment to realize that Beca is giving her permission to do less than her best – to suck. To put that 'always better than the last time' mentality on the back burner. It's a nice sentiment. To Aubrey's surprise, she finds herself nodding. The tension leaves her shoulder muscles, making it easier to keep a steady pace with her hand. "I'm sorry."
"Do you always talk this much during sex?" Beca mumbles into the headboard.
No. Like many things, this is a new development. Aubrey falls silent and looks for some other way to keep her mind from wandering back to the chapel where she and Chloe said goodbye. It could have been worse. Chloe could have been one of the first ones gone; she could have been taken suddenly with no warning. That still doesn't bring her relief – but she knows what will, even if it is just for an unremarkable few seconds. "Again?" she asks when the sensation of Beca tightening around her fingers draws her from her thoughts.
Beca shrugs. "I literally cannot think of anything better to do."
xxxxx
There's a clock on the bedside table, but Aubrey doesn't look at it – not even after they burn themselves out on sex and choose to lay quietly in the darkness. It kills her not to know what time it is, which is exactly why she doesn't check. Not knowing keeps her mind busy. Even if it's not something she wants to dwell on, it's better than what she could be thinking about. There are moments when Beca takes a deep breath or shifts to a more comfortable position and for a moment, she stops trying to count the seconds, remembering she's not alone. She could say something. But if Beca felt like talking, she would. So, together, silent, they just exist indefinitely.
Fingernails tapping on the door what might minutes or hours later jumpstart her heart even though they're immediately followed up by Julia's voice asking, "Girls? Are you awake?"
"I'm up," Aubrey answers, unsure about Beca.
"Me too," Beca mumbles.
"I found something you might want to see. Come out to the living room?"
Beca turns her head in Aubrey's direction as though she's asking whether or not they're going to move.
Aubrey nods and slowly pushes herself. "We'll be there in a second."
"I hope this is something I actually want to see," Beca mutters and Aubrey knows exactly what she means.
"Do you want to take a shower after this?" Aubrey asks, searching for her clothes. Something feels wrong about going from sex straight to the family room.
"Yep. Why are you fumbling in the dark?" Beca turns on the light before Aubrey can ask her not to. "If we're taking a shower, I'm going to see you naked anyway."
"It just feels different in there." Aubrey sits back down on the edge of the bed to wrestle with her clothes.
"Why? We've had sex in the shower too."
"It just does." The conversation Aubrey had with Julia about feeling dirty rears its ugly head in her mind, and she quickly dismisses it. "You ruined my buttons." Beca may not have torn them off, but she did loosen almost every thread.
"Sorry." She doesn't sound very sorry. "I'll find you another shirt. You want to wear one of mine and let everyone know what we've been up to?"
"Funny. Just find me my pajamas." All that work putting her pants on only to need to take them off again. Pajamas aren't all that suspicious though. Except for Aubrey doesn't wear pajamas during the day…
"Heads up."
Aubrey's clothes hit her in the face. "You're supposed to give the person enough time to look before you throw something at them, asshole." She whips the pants in Beca's general direction before tugging them on. Of course, Beca tossed her a sweatshirt instead of the matching tank. She is kind of cold though. "Hey!" she exclaims when she manages to pull it on without help.
"Look at you dressing yourself like a big kid."
"You try doing everything with one hand." Aubrey stands up, proud of herself regardless. "You wouldn't make it an hour."
"You're right. Because I'd make it several hours."
"Prove it."
Beca slides one arm behind her back then opens the door with the other hand. "Disabled first."
Aubrey shoves her out first and stands triumphant when both of Beca's hands shoot out to catch herself on the wall. "Loser," she comments, walking past.
"Cheater."
She rounds the corner to the living room, a few steps in front of Beca, with both curiosity and a little bit of fear. "What's going on?"
"I found your reporters," Julia answers. She glances at her phone then pulls YouTube up on the TV.
Beca makes a noise of disgust and sits down on the arm of the couch.
"It looks like they took off to get to Seattle for a memorial."
A memorial… Aubrey stops behind Beca, her hand resting just a few air molecules away from her shoulder. "So, what, the city got together with some candles or something?"
"Not just the city." Julia opens their YouTube page then clicks on their latest video. One Last Hurrah! – A Bellas Tribute
Beca looks back when she leans and her shoulder touches Aubrey's hand.
Aubrey is too focused to move.
This is it, Gail. The last Bellas performance. There have been a lot of times I thought they would be gone for good, but I think this is really it.
Gail wipes her eyes with a handkerchief, and Aubrey's lip curls in disgust. Behind them the current Bellas file onto a makeshift stage near the waterfront.
"Tell me I'm not about to watch a group of people be shot," Beca says.
"No one gets shot," Julia assures them, "I watched the whole thing."
It isn't until one of the Bellas approaches the mic with a speech that Aubrey realizes that this is a sick play on words and not just an inability to say things tastefully. The Bellas are retiring. They're there to sing for the last time – like somehow quitting is supposed to honor every Bella who died. "They can't do that…" They didn't even reach out to consult her and Beca about it. No one even invited them.
"I know how much The Bellas meant to you." Julia reaches out to squeeze her arm.
Beca props her elbow up on her knee and rests her mouth against a fisted hand as she watches in silence.
"Why didn't we know about this?" Even in the midst of everything, she would have gone. No matter what it took to catch a flight there and an immediate flight back. Any of them would have done the same.
"I don't know." Julia moves to sit on the back of the couch with one hand resting between Aubrey's shoulder blades.
"Maybe we were invited and didn't know," Beca murmurs into her hand.
"I would have told you," Julia says, "Anyone in this house would have if we had known."
"I mean maybe someone else intervened so word never got to any of us. I know the girls on that stage. They would have reached out. At least one of them knows we're okay. I mean, she asked if I needed a place to stay – why would she keep me in the dark about putting this together?" Beca gets up. "I don't want to watch this."
"So much for family," Aubrey whispers at the girls on TV as Beca walks away. If they had taken hers and Beca's feelings into consideration, they would know that this is a time to come together – not to go separate ways forever.
"Maybe they're scared," Julia suggests, "Maybe they think they're in danger if they keep singing."
Aubrey sinks down onto the couch and leans against her legs. "Then why are they performing where anyone could hurt them and all those people who showed up?"
"You're right." Julia slides down next to her and wraps her in a hug. "Are you more hurt because this is the end or because those were your people and you weren't there? Because you can still do something for your friends. It doesn't have to be a big ordeal to matter, you know? I think it might matter more without making a show of it – not to say what they're doing now doesn't matter. But finding your own way to say goodbye in a way that's sincere to you is plenty more than enough. Anyone would love that."
There are faces Aubrey recognizes as the camera pans to the front row of the audience – the girls' families and friends that she would occasionally see in passing after performances. It makes it easier to push aside all those strangers who are there just to be there or to satisfy some sick curiosity. They clutch their candles with an all too familiar confusion and devastation in their eyes. Some of them are holding photos. One of them is wearing a shirt with a photo of Ashley and Jessica hugging ironed onto the front. It's probably one of their parents… They deserve answers. She shakes her head like that will shake the thoughts from her head so she can focus on the conversation they're having now. Beca is right; she doesn't need to keep throwing herself into what the police should be doing. "Can you drive me home for awhile?" she asks.
"Of course."
Aubrey stops her from getting up. "After this is over." She settles back in. "Who organized this whole thing? The Bellas? It's huge…" There must be thousands of people there.
Julia leans her head back and looks down the hallway then shakes her head. She motions to John and Gail.
"You've gotta be kidding me." She has to be kidding.
"It says in the description. But I think maybe we should keep that to ourselves."
Aubrey looks at the closed bedroom door that Beca retreated behind. "Fuck."