Chapter Text
Beca Mitchell never needed anybody. That was what she told herself.
The world, her world, had always been full of noise and anger and madness and darkness. That was simply the way it was. She had learned to deal with it, to move forwards despite the heavy clouds which hovered low enough to obstruct the path. Over time, she had pushed through the fog, trusting her instincts and ignoring anyone who told her to turn back or stop until the visibility was clearer.
Beca Mitchell didn’t need anybody.
Other people were critical. They didn’t understand. Other people judged her through their own lenses, against their own expectations, and decided she wasn’t good enough. Other people were the reason she was alone. Other people put themselves first and forgot about her.
Beca Mitchell had learned to survive without them.
She hadn’t realised, before, that she was only surviving. She hadn’t realised- hadn’t ever stopped long enough to process- that living and surviving were two entirely different things. She hadn’t realised that the chaos she carried around in her mind could be quietened, that the pain in her chest could be quashed.
She had always simply laid there in the dark waiting for the sun to arrive.
It had taken far too long for Beca Mitchell to realise that, in her world, the sun was a person.
One.
So, getting arrested was probably one of the more predictable parts of Beca’s freshman year. Getting arrested on behalf of an all-female acapella group after defending them against a group of skeezy older guys in matching letterman jackets? Not so much.
After the indignity of being driven back to her dorm from the station in her father’s car, his reproachful stare boring into the side of her head at every stoplight, all Beca had wanted was to curl up in her ridiculously uncomfortable twin bed and shut the world out for a while. As she had opened the door, Beca had realised there were nine reasons why that wouldn’t be possible, all staring right at her.
“You waited up for me?” She had asked the question, grimacing at the childlike surprise in her voice, the tone that seemed to indicate that- on some level- she was grateful that these nerds apparently cared. Slowly, her gaze had scanned across the room. Lilly was wearing one of Beca’s t-shirts, one she was certain had been stuffed at the bottom of a drawer. Amy’s hand was resting on her shelf, dangerously close to the box where Beca kept her secret stash of Reese’s peanut butter cups. Everyone seemed at home, comfortable in her space. More comfortable than Beca had ever been in that room.
Aubrey had glared at her, which didn’t make too much of a change from the status quo. Beca hated to admit it, but Aubrey’s words- all of them- had sunk into her head. At night, when everything got too much and she began to question exactly how she had ended up in this particular twin bed in this particular dorm at this particular university when all she wanted was to be in California, Aubrey’s words had joined a chorus of other voices, all of them reminding her that she was small. Reminding her to know her place. Reminding her that, in the end, she was as insignificant and untalented as every other wannabe who would never make it.
Beca sees it, the judgement, the doubt, in the way Aubrey dismisses her mixing equipment and her offer to work on something for the group. She feels it in the distance, the coldness of the blonde’s half-smirk. Even once everybody begins to file out of the door, at the captain’s insistence of course, there’s a frostiness in the air. It makes Beca shake, her final reserves unravelling as the adrenaline courses through her body and the realisation that she is, once again, completely alone and angry at the world hits her with a terrifying familiarity.
Her hands wind into her hair, pulling down sharply as her knees bend and she drops to the ground. She’s beyond crying. She’s beyond thinking. Her head is filled with an unpalatable cacophony of noise- voices and memories and sirens and the clinking of bars and the deafening silence of her father’s car- and she can’t… she can’t breathe.
“Whoa.”
Chloe’s voice cuts through everything.
There’s a hand on her back, now, rubbing slow circles. There’s a whispered reminder to breathe, the gentle “in, out, in, out” somehow pulling her back towards reality. Beca blinks and lets her hands fall from her temples, sitting herself more comfortably on the floor and leaning her head against the edge of the mattress.
“Thank you.”
It may have been seconds, it may have been minutes, but Beca finds the ability to say it out loud. It’s the only thing she can think to say. It’s the only thing that makes sense.
She breathes, then. In and out just like Chloe had told her. She focuses on the way her chest expands, the way every inhale pushes her shoulders upwards. She focuses on her breath and feels everything else leave her; every thought, every voice, every other sound ebbs away. It’s just her and Chloe. Alone together.
Beca feels blue eyes searching her face. She’s still not all the way back down the mountain, her pulse is still ringing in her ears and her hands are still shaking; she feels Chloe’s gaze and knows she’s trying to understand. Beca’s mouth goes dry as she tries to speak.
“I’m sorry you had to see me like this.”
It isn’t exactly true. Beca’s not sorry, not in any real sense, but she’s never let anybody see her like this before. Nobody else has ever witnessed what happens when the illusion of ‘badass Beca’ shatters. Usually, these are the parts of her she keeps well hidden. Then again, she thinks, Chloe Beale has already seen other parts of her she usually hides away. This is, she begins to rationalise, just another kind of naked for the impossibly pretty redhead to add to her list. A list that, given the very small amount of knowledge Beca has of Chloe, she can only hope isn’t a physical one. Given the boundless confidence with which she had entered her shower before, given the fact that she has already spent three years unapologetically singing Ace of Base in a flight attendant suit for fun, Beca wouldn’t put it past her.
“Beca, you don’t have to be sorry.” Chloe’s voice is gentle. It’s sweet. Beca knows she’s telling the truth. Beca knows, without asking, that Chloe doesn’t mind being here, that she understands that the mess Beca has created, the untidy chaos of her mind, isn’t meant to hurt anyone. It’s just who she is. It’s just how she copes. “I… I’m glad you weren’t alone.”
Chloe’s words seem to float through Beca on a different plane to everything else. They hit her hard. She lets herself smile as she replies. “Me too.”
“I… I guess it just proves my point. I know you care. You wouldn’t be upset if you didn’t.” Chloe looks at her, looks through her. Beca might as well be just as naked as she was in the shower. “You just show it in your own way. I… I think that’s pretty special.” She doesn’t let Beca speak. Chloe leans back and brushes her hair back off her face. Looking up at the ceiling, she lets out a long sigh. “I’m just so annoyed with Aubrey. She could have at least said thank you.”
Beca’s eyebrow quirks. “Why? Why would she…”
“Because you got arrested for us.”
It’s such an absurd statement that Beca feels herself beginning to laugh before she knows what’s happening. Her hand finds her hair and she feels Chloe staring at her. She looks over, into impossibly bright blue pools, and shakes her head. “This entire day has been crazy. Like, actually crazy.”
Chloe shrugs. “I kind of like crazy.”
“Oh, is that why you’re still here?” It was meant to come out as a joke, but Beca’s tone is slightly accusatory and blunt. Her words fall flat. Which, today, seems to just be how things are going.
There’s a moment, a flash across Chloe’s face as she takes in her words, but she seems to cut through whatever Beca was trying to say. She takes whatever messy scraps Beca has thrown down and turns them into something. Something beautiful. Something worthwhile.
“No” Chloe’s impossibly long eyelashes seem to flutter, dancing against her skin as her eyes close and open slowly. “I’m still here because I care about you, Beca. I’m not just saying it, either. I really care.”
Beca’s not used to people being so honest. Not when they’re being nice, at least. She’s more familiar with the truth feeling like it cuts you in two.
“Well, thank you.” She pauses, glancing at her bed. She’s exhausted, mentally and physically, and she’s got a seminar on world civilisations or some other bullshit at 9am and she probably should at least turn up once before the end of the semester.
Chloe’s eyes follow hers and she smiles gently. “I’ll let you get some rest.” She pulls herself up and Beca does the same. They’re standing close, too close for Beca’s usual liking, and she steps back. She doesn’t expect Chloe to follow, but she should have done.
There are open arms and a genuine, gentle smile and blue eyes rove over her face as Chloe’s voice dances into her head once more. “You can call me any time. I’m not just a Bella. I… I’m a friend, Beca.” Beca steps into her space, lets the redhead hug her close for a brief moment, before she even realises what she’s doing.
Chloe steps back, turns elegantly on her heel and, before Beca knows what’s happening, she’s gone.
The quiet isn’t so deafening, now. The air seems clearer, somehow. It doesn’t stick to her lungs or weigh her down. Her pulse is steady and calm and she can’t hear it drumming in her ears anymore.
As sleep begins to claim her, Beca’s mind replays her day. It’s like an awful, budget, straight-to-dvd lifetime movie, but she likes the ending. In the last 24 hours, Beca’s lost a lot of things; her dignity, her cool, possibly her place with the Bellas and definitely whatever scraps of her father’s trust she had left. She’s also lost a little respect for Jesse, but she can deal with that another day.
Still, Beca can’t help but realise that she’s gained a few things, too. She’s grown a pair of metaphorical balls. She’s found a little more self-confidence because- even if Aubrey hated it- she knows that she sounded good on that stage. She may have also gained a criminal record or, at the very least, a stern warning from the county sheriff’s office, and has a new knowledge of what the inside of a jail cell actually looks like, but she knows she can deal with the consequences now. Beca Mitchell will deal with whatever comes next because, despite having one of the shittiest days on record since the infamous ‘divorce summer of 2006’, she’s also gained a friend.
As she finally drifts off to the echoes of Chloe’s voice and the image of her soft smile, the sensation of calm that seemed to be draped over her like a warm blanket, Beca thinks that, despite everything, she must have done something right to end up with someone like her in her life. Someone who can make her feel so good on such a dark day, someone who can bring back the light and make her smile and laugh and stop a panic attack in its tracks before it overwhelms her, is something Beca has never had before.
Getting arrested was one of the more predictable parts of Beca’s freshman year. Finding herself replaying the handful of images she has of the redheaded senior she’s known for less than a semester as she falls asleep with her lilting voice in her head? Not so much.