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“Beca?” Chloe called up the stairs to the attic bedroom. “Beca, come on! We’re going to be late!”
There was no response.
“Seriously, Bec, we gotta get going.” Chloe emerged at the top of the stairs, her smile fading upon what she saw. Beca was huddled in bed on her laptop, headphones firmly on. “Why aren’t you ready?”
“Can’t go. I’m sick.” Beca didn’t even look up from her laptop.
“What? Since when?”
Beca shrugged.
Following a short struggle, Chloe was able to pry the laptop from her hands. Beca removed her headphones. Her scowl was thunderous.
“What do you mean you’re sick? What’s wrong?”
“Stomach hurts.” Technically it wasn’t a lie.
“You don’t look sick.” She looked tired, certainly, but not sick. Chloe pressed her the back of her hand against Beca’s cheeks and forehead. “And you don’t have a fever.”
“I’m sick, Chloe.” Beca pulled away. “I’m not going,” she said firmly.
Chloe sighed in exasperation.
“You can’t not go just because you’re on your period!”
“I’m not on my period.”
“You’ve been cranky enough lately to be.”
Beca scoffed.
“Beca, please. I know you’re not big on parties, but it’s Christmas!”
“I know.” There was a slight waiver in Beca’s voice. She hurriedly cleared her throat.
Chloe’s expression softened. Beca couldn’t look her in the eye - something Chloe had come to learn often coincided with the younger girl being overwhelmed.
“Fine,” she said softly. There was no point fighting a battle she knew she couldn’t win. And now she really was late. “Try to get some rest so you feel better.” Frustration aside, she did mean it.
Beca nodded, but said nothing. She sat still, stiff, until she was sure she heard the front door close behind Chloe. Only then did she let her face crumple and let out a sob. Chloe was right. She wasn’t sick. But Christmas hurt. Mention of it alone was enough to make her stomach twist and her chest feel tight.
Christmas was the biggest argument. Christmas was her dad announcing he was leaving. Christmas was her mom crying and drinking herself half to death. Christmas was sickness personified. Hopeless. Lonely. Painful. It was easier to just avoid it while everyone else went about being jolly, or merry, or whatever.
-----
Chloe was trying to have a good time - she really was - but her mind kept wandering back to Beca. She lurked by the buffet table, lost in thought. If she was “sick”, why hadn’t she said sooner? Why didn’t she want to make the most of their limited time together before winter break? Why was she acting so off? Was she mad at her?
“Hey, Chloe!” A familiar voice snapped her out of her ruminating. It was Jesse, offering some kind of alcoholic beverage in a red plastic cup. This was a college party, after all. “Need another drink?”
“Yes, please!” She gladly accepted it. Hopefully a little more juice in her system would get her in the party spirit. “You’ve really gone all out here,” she gestured to the spread of food.
“You have to for Christmas!”
“Totally!”
“Hey, have you seen Beca?” he asked, mouth half full of yule log. “I haven’t seen her.”
“Oh, um, yeah. She’s sick. She said she’s sorry she couldn’t make it.” The last part was an absolute lie, but she knew it would make Jesse feel better.
“Man, that sucks. Poor weirdo.” He shook his head and smiled. “I remember she got sick at winter break last year, too.”
“She did?”
“Yeah. Must’ve been pretty bad - she went AWOL until after New Year.”
“She… never mentioned that.”
“Well, you know what she’s like,” Jesse chuckled. “Ever the mystery is Beca Mitchell.” Without a further thought, he headed back to the centre of the room to join the dancing.
“Yeah…”
-----
Chloe returned to the Bella house a little before midnight. Everyone else was still partying hard, but she wasn’t feeling it. All she could think about was Beca. She crept back to the attic. The lights were off.
“Beca? Are you awake?” she whispered.
A grumble of a response came from a ball shape underneath the covers.
“Can I come in? I brought you back some food.”
“’M not hungry.” She sounded like she’d been crying.
“I’ll leave it on your desk in case you change your mind.”
Chloe hovered, waiting for something. Anything. Even just to be told to go away. After what felt like forever, the bedside lamp turned on. The light was dim, but enough to see that Beca’s eyes were red and her cheeks flushed, confirming any suspicion that she’d been crying. It took everything in Chloe not to run over and scoop her into a hug.
“You’re back early.” Beca’s voice was small. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
“I guess so.”
“Chlo…” Beca looked up from her lap, her eyes watery. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not... I’ve been an asshole lately. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Beca. Really.” She perched on the side of the bed. “Some explanation would’ve been nice, but no one’s a ray of sunshine when they’re not feeling well.”
Silent tears rolled down Beca’s cheeks. Chloe rested a hand on her leg.
“Does your stomach still hurt?”
Beca nodded.
“C’mere,” Chloe opened her arms. Beca obliged and lent in.
They sat for a while. Chloe held Beca close, stroking her hair until she stopped crying.
“Will you stay?” Beca asked, eventually.
“Of course.” Chloe kissed her on the head, before stripping down to her underwear and climbing into the bed next to Beca.
They lay in comfortable silence. Chloe’s arms wrapped around Beca’s waist as she cuddled in close. Beca found herself becoming less tense, comforted by her steady breathing and the smell of her perfume. For the first time in days, that knot in her stomach eased. She was safe, and warm, and wished they could stay like this forever. Their hands intertwined.
“Beca?”
“Mm?”
“I’m here. Y’know, if you ever want to talk about… whatever it is. I’m not saying you have to, and I don’t expect it, but if and when you’re ready… I’m here.”
Beca couldn’t find any words, but squeezed Chloe’s hand in acknowledgement. Chloe squeezed back. Maybe sometime they could talk about it, but right now all she needed was her presence.
“I love you, Chlo.”
“I love you too.”