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Her hand hovers in front of the door the first time.
It shouldn’t be this hard, she thinks, to reach out. To ask for help. But she’s Beca Effin’ Mitchell and- even if some of the girls are starting to see through her tough exterior- she still likes to maintain the idea that she’s unbreakable; if only for her own sake.
She knocks quietly; the sound barely reverberating off the white, gloss-painted wood.
“Come in.”
She’s been in Chloe’s bedroom before, of course she has, but not like this. She’s never noticed the scent in the air, a mixture of the girl’s fruity shampoo, the perfume she wears and something else. Something warm and comforting. Beca breathes in and she’s certain she’s made the right decision.
Chloe turns to face her from her position, sat cross-legged on the end of her bed with a book in her hands. The book closes with a gentle thud and, before Beca can explain why she’s there, the redhead has bounded over towards her and pulled her into a tight hug. When they pull apart, bright blue eyes shaded with concern are searching her expression. A gentle thumb brushes her cheek. Chloe’s so close Beca can feel her breathing; her eyes draw down to her chest, watching it rise and fall, noticing the way her collar bones move with each breath.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
“Becs?”
Chloe’s voice pulls her back into the room.
“Becs, have you been crying?”
She thinks about lying. Thinks about denial. But it’s Chloe Beale and that’s the reason she’s here. Because Chloe Beale somehow just gets her. She doesn’t have to hide.
Beca takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it out.
“I… I think we had our first big fight. I… I think we might break up.”
“Oh, honey.” Chloe walks them to the bed, sits down and pulls Beca into her side, fingers brushing through her hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Beca shrugs. “I don’t know. I… I just didn’t want to be alone and I…”
“Tell me what you need.”
Her thoughts are too scrambled to produce an answer. Instead, Beca stares at the wall, unfocused eyes drifting over the polaroid photographs the redhead has arranged into a heart shape. She is still staring when she feels Chloe press against her, arms snaking around her body, chin resting on her shoulder. “You know,” Beca notices the way she can feel Chloe’s jaw move against her neck as she speaks; she fights the urge to move away, to regain the personal space she holds so dear with everyone else except her. “You know you’re safe with me, right?” Beca nods. Chloe doesn’t even need to say it. Beca’s never felt safer than in her arms. “I’ll never hurt you. Could never hurt you. I love you too much for that.”
Beca nods slowly, cheek brushing against red hair as she moves.
“You can lean on me, Becs. I can be whatever you need me to be. I… I just want to see you smile.”
Her hand reaches up, fingers tangling into the hand resting on her shoulder. Chloe grasps at her, using their touch as leverage to turn her around. To look her in the eye.
“Whatever you need me to be, Becs. Whatever you need me to…”
Beca isn’t quite sure why she cuts her best friend off with a kiss, but she’s pulling away and opening her eyes and her tongue comes out to brush over where the pressure was before she even knows what she’s doing. She wants to apologise and the words are almost in her throat when she registers the electric feeling in her veins. The buzzing in her ears. The pounding of her heart. She looks across at Chloe and sees how dark her eyes have become, watches her chest moving more rapidly than before. It can only have been a second, maybe less, but she notices the way she looks at her. The apology dies as she steps forward, crashing her lips against Chloe’s, hands desperately pulling at the hem of her t-shirt.
///
Beca knows it’s a mistake.
The rational part of her brain was silent, weighed down until Chloe’s touch cleared the fog in her mind. Chloe puts her thoughts back in order, quiets the voices and leaves her with a song in her head. She had been so desperate to feel normal, so focused on ridding herself of the anger and self-loathing and frustration coursing through her that nothing else had mattered. It’s only when she returns to her own room- after- and curls into a ball under the covers that she realises that one moment has changed everything.
She fights the urge to get out of bed the next day; terrified to face the repercussions of seeing Chloe. Scared to talk about boundaries and friendship and trust and terrified that she’s about to lose the only person who understands her in the entire state. Possibly the world.
Chloe finds her, though. She doesn’t knock, she doesn’t need to, but she walks in and sits against the wall, legs stretched out in front of her. There’s a determination in her eyes Beca doesn’t quite expect. And then Chloe is saying things that Beca hadn’t ever imagined her best friend saying to her.
It’s OK.
I can be that person for you.
I don’t mind.
We’re still friends.
Nothing has changed.
It only takes a moment, one look deep into Chloe’s soft blue eyes to know it’s a lie. But Beca thinks back to the way her body felt, the way her thoughts melted away into nothing, and she’s nodding her head.
///
Beca never thought she had an addictive personality. Her psychology professor would argue it isn’t really a thing and that made sense. She’s tried smoking, she’s tried a few things, but she’s been able to walk away. Until now.
Chloe is the first thing- person- she’s ever found herself craving. When she finds herself with pockets of time, she thinks about that night. When she catches the redhead’s gaze across the rehearsal space, she thinks about the way she gasped her name, the way her fingers clutched at the bed sheets. When she watches her dance around the kitchen, the urge to reach out and hold her makes her hands ache.
It scares her, completely terrifies her, this urge. It’s unfamiliar and the pull, dragging her into uncharted territory, is enough to make her turn and run.
She doesn’t quite run, but she certainly turns. And walks.
Back to him. To Jesse.
To dry land.
To safety.
She fills her time to avoid the quiet moments. She walks around with her headphones on, music blaring at all hours. She starts sleeping with a podcast playing, just to avoid letting her mind roam too far. She waits for Jesse after class, meets him for coffee, goes back to his place, even pays attention to the movies he plays her.
Chloe is there, though. Still her best friend. Still the co-captain she has to work with. And things are fine. Sure, she finds herself looking away when Chloe demonstrates new choreography and she avoids giving her too many solos so that they aren’t side by side on stage. Sure, she rushes out at the end of rehearsal with sheet music haphazardly stuffed into her bag to avoid being left alone in the auditorium. But it’s fine.
Just fine.
///
The second time is a blur.
There’s a party, like there is every week, at the Trebles house. Beca drinks too much and Jesse is showing off and, before she knows it, they’re done shouting and she’s storming off across the lawn to her own house.
Chloe’s footsteps follow and she calls out her name, but Beca can feel the pressure in her head once more. Her mind is spinning and she’s angry with the world and she can’t think. If she was a smoker, she’d light a cigarette and drag the nicotine down into her lungs and exhale a cloud of darkness. If she had anything she could take to stop her feeling like this, she’d take it.
Chloe’s hand reaches out and brushes against her arm. It’s only brief, but Beca feels the electricity at her touch and she knows she’s just the wrong side of sober to fight the need for more. She knows that more might just be enough to stop her racing mind; to bring her back down to earth.
She hates to admit that she’s missed her touch. It’s hard to admit that she’s been lonely, even with him. Chloe just has a power, a light, that seems to illuminate far more than anything- anyone- else in her life. And so, without much thought, she leans on her. Leans into her. Holds her close. Lets their lips brush against one another. Lets her fingers brush against warm, taut skin as she pushes Chloe’s t-shirt upwards.
It’s selfish, the way she takes. Beca knows it is. She can’t fight it, though. Not when Chloe’s fingers link with hers above her head as warm lips scorch a path from her sternum to the waistband of her jeans. Not when a palm pressed to each side of her thighs pushes her legs just far enough apart for Chloe to settle between them. Not when, finally, the pressure overwhelms her and she’s arching her back off Chloe’s floral sheets and biting a dent into her lip.
The second time- after- Beca feels invincible. Chloe’s gaze, the way she looks at her with such sincerity and such adoration, makes her believe she’s worthy of more. That she’s worthy of someone loving her. Beca takes that strength and wears it. She takes Chloe’s touch and Chloe’s kindness and Chloe’s unwavering confidence in everything she is and hoists it over her chest. It protects her. It’s her armour.
She wears it when she goes back to him.
A shield.
A shield made entirely of somebody else’s love.
It’s OK.
You can lean on me.
Every time Beca closes her eyes, she hears the words in Chloe’s voice.
Every time, she knows it’s a lie.
Part of her, the selfish part, loves that Chloe lies for her. Chloe, uncompromisingly honest and unwavering in her candour, Chloe whose nose wrinkles when she tells the server that her sub-standard food is delicious, makes herself feel worse to make Beca feel better. She gives and Beca takes.
And takes.
And takes.
She takes until her armour shines, until its plate stretches across her body. Until she feels invincible.
Chloe watches her leave. Beca can just about make out the shape of her face in the dim light. She hoists on her armour, weighing herself down until her feet feel firm on the ground, until she feels safe enough to walk out into the world alone, and leaves her behind.
Naked.
Naked and vulnerable, her own armour sacrificed to make Beca’s stronger.
Beca knows she’s covering herself, protecting her heart, with layers of strength she has been given. She knows Chloe has built her up, given her something special in her friendship and in her love.
She doesn’t want to admit that she knows Chloe’s heart, unshielded since Beca has taken every layer to build up her own protection, is already breaking.
She doesn’t want to admit that she knows it’s her fault.
///
The third time, she doesn’t think she has a choice.
There are days when the world hurts. It’s too bright and too dark at once, uncomfortable to the eye. It’s shouting and whispering and tight and loose and Beca needs something, someone, anyone, her, to hold onto to stop herself from falling into the depths.
Darkness weighing down on her, Beca can feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she pushes the door open without knocking. She sighs deeply and lets herself fall onto the bed, lets herself collapse onto Chloe’s arm, lets herself be held. She’s safe, then. Safe, moored, secure in strong arms.
Chloe keeps her afloat, grips onto her when she doesn’t have the strength to clamber onto the life raft. She gives her stability and reassures her that dry land isn’t far away. She pulls them both towards it, illuminating the way with her brilliance and her incomparable glow. She pulls them both to shore despite the fact that Chloe’s happiest in water. She pulls them both to dry land because Beca can’t admit, yet, how much she wants to swim. How much she wants to stay, right there, with her.
Beca’s not stupid. She knows how Chloe feels. She knows she’s sacrificing herself to build her up. It’s right there in her eyes. Right there in the way she lets herself reach out and touch her, reach out and kiss her, reach out and love her. She can’t fight it, either, the urge. Even though it hurts. Even though it’s breaking her.
It’s alright.
I know what you need.
I can help you out.
You can lean on me.
Beca knows Chloe’s words are a lie. She knows there are others, true words, hidden below the surface, threatening to burst out of her. She knows because they’re in her, too.
I hate to say that I want you, but I do.
It’s the reason she bites her lip when they’re together. It’s the reason she presses her lips closed and tries her best to breathe through her nose. It’s the reason she hasn’t been able to stop herself from coming back again.
Coming back to her.
She’s scared, that’s the reason. She’s scared of saying it out loud. She’s scared to admit she’s lonely, scared to admit she misses her even when everyone else is in the room. She’s scared of what it all means, needing Chloe. She’s scared of what it means to love her.
She has to admit, though, that she does.
She loves her, she wants her, she needs her.
Chloe knows, too. She knows she’ll keep coming back. She knows there’s nobody else who can take the hurt and the pain and the darkness in her heart and turn it into a song. She knows there’s nobody else who is strong enough to let her lean on them.
I’ll wait for you.
Chloe’s voice is a whisper.
It comes out in the darkness, the silence. It’s the first thing either of them have said in hours and it sits in the air, lingering above them as they stare at the ceiling, ignoring the fact that their hands are clasped so tightly together that their fingers hurt.
Beca can’t see Chloe’s eyes, but she knows how they look. She can hear the pain in her words. Hear the loss and the desperation and the weakness Beca has left in her body after she has taken everything to build herself up. She knows Chloe’s hurting herself. Hurting herself to help her. A better friend would walk away. A better person would stop. But Chloe’s magnetic and Beca’s pretty sure she’s made of metal.
Won’t that hurt?
Beca needs time. Time to process. Time to think. Time to learn to heal herself without hurting Chloe in the process.
Chloe needs to be honest. Chloe needs to learn to love herself again. She’s given every ounce of her love to Beca and left none for herself. Beca thinks she can help her out, but she’s scared. She wants to jump into the water, splash around with her and spend the rest of their lives swimming. She wants to, but she’s scared. Scared that, if she lets herself fall, she’ll push them both under the surface until they’re drowning.
Not as much as living without you.
Chloe’s truth breaks her heart.
She doesn’t like to admit that she needs someone else to make her feel whole, that she wants someone in a way that makes her heart swell and her pulse race. She hates admitting that there is only one person in the world who brightens the darkness on the worst days, the days when the sun doesn’t want to come out. She hates that it’s her. She hates that it means things would have to change.
She hates to admit, but she knows they already have.
Beca knows Chloe needs her just as much as she needs Chloe. Chloe needs her to be strong. Chloe needs her to be honest. Chloe needs her to realise that she’s not light and Beca’s not darkness. They’re both shades of grey; they’re silver and shadow and thunder and metal. They’re not all that different on the inside.
Maybe then, she can leave the safety of dry land.
Maybe then, she can let herself fall.
Maybe then, she can let Chloe lean on her too.