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The first thing Beca noticed was Chloe's hand. It was resting against the back of Chicago's neck—warm and familiar, fingers curled gently against his skin as she laughed at something he'd said. The second thing Beca noticed was the way Chloe looked at him. That really was always the worst part. Beca had spent years watching Chloe look at people. She knew the difference between Chloe being friendly and Chloe being interested. She knew the particular tilt of her head, the way her eyes lingered, the little smile that started in one corner of her mouth. This was interested. This was more than interested.
And then she kissed him. Beca stood near the wall with her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, staring at the two people in front of her as something inside her seemed to fold neatly in half. The Bellas were laughing and hugging one another but Beca heard none of it.
Instead, a song started playing in the back of her head, one she'd heard a thousand times. Somebody said you got a new friend. Does she love you better than I can?
Suddenly, every beat felt like someone pressing a bruise. She was in the corner, watching. And God, wasn't that exactly what she'd been doing for years? Watching Chloe flirt, watching Chloe date, watching Chloe bring guys home. Watching her stumble through the front door at two in the morning, cheeks flushed from the cold, laughing quietly as she whispered goodbye to whoever she'd brought back with her.
Yeah, I know it’s stupid. I just gotta see it for myself. I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her, oh.
I’m right over here, why can’t you see me? Oh.
I’m giving it my all, but I’m not the guy you’re taking home.
Beca remembered lying awake in her room, the thin walls of the Bellas house doing nothing to conceal the sounds of Chloe's laughter. She'd put her headphones on and turn the music up while telling herself she didn't care.
She'd always been very good at telling herself things that weren't true.
Chloe finally pulled away from Chicago and she looked happy. Beca smiled, or tried to. It probably looked somewhat convincing. Nobody noticed when she slipped away. Nobody except Chloe, usually. But Chloe was distracted.
And Beca was already gone.
Six months later, Beca had sung the song so many times that Khaled had started teasing her about it. "You know," he'd said one night after soundcheck, "there are other songs, dude."
Beca had adjusted the microphone stand. "I know."
"Could've fooled me," he said. “You always cover that one.”
"It's a good song."
"Uh-huh."
Beca ignored him and she still sang it almost every night, sometimes in huge arenas with thousands of people screaming back at her, sometimes in smaller venues where she could see individual faces in the crowd. She'd change the pronouns in the song every once in a while, change the perspective. She’d change just enough of it that nobody would notice. But Chloe would, if she ever heard it.
That was the thought Beca never let herself finish because Chloe wasn't there—she never would be. Chloe was somewhere else with someone else, living a life that didn't include Beca in the way she had secretly wanted.
So she sang and she pretended it was just another song.
The venue was enormous, in the way that made Beca feel small even after she'd spent months performing in places exactly like it. She'd just finished the encore when she stepped offstage, sweat cooling beneath her shirt, ears ringing with the ghost of the crowd.
"Great show," one of the crew members called.
Beca gave him a tired thumbs-up before walking back to her green room. Five minutes, ten, if nobody bothered her. She pushed through the door, dropped her jacket onto a chair, and sat heavily on the futon. Her chest hurt. It was a good show and a good crowd, really loud. The song had landed particularly hard tonight—maybe because she'd been thinking about Chloe again, maybe because she'd dreamed about her the night before, maybe…because missing someone for six months didn't make it hurt less. It just made the pain quieter.
Beca leaned forward, elbows on her knees, covering her face with both hands. "Fuck."
Her voice cracked and that was all it took—one tiny crack—and suddenly the tears she'd been holding back all night were there. She scrubbed angrily at her face. "This is pathetic," she mumbled to herself.
There was a knock and Beca froze. "Yeah?"
The door opened. "Hi."
Beca's entire body went rigid at the familiar voice. She looked up at Chloe standing in the doorway. For a second, neither of them moved. Chloe was smiling and it was the kind of smile Beca knew by heart—bright, warm, a little crooked. But it disappeared almost immediately because Chloe saw Beca's face. She saw her eyes and the tear tracks and the way she was trying desperately to pretend she hadn't just started to cry two seconds ago.
Chloe stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "Bec?"
"I'm fine."
Chloe stared at her. "Beca."
"I'm fine."
"You're crying."
"I'm not."
"You literally have tears on your face."
Beca wiped them away. "Allergies."
"Inside?"
"Very aggressive allergies."
Chloe didn't smile. Instead, she crossed the room. "You're hurt." Beca looked away as Chloe's voice softened. "Why are you always hurt?"
Beca swallowed hard. "I'm not."
"You're doing what you always do, Beca."
"What?"
"The thing where you decide you're going to pretend something doesn't matter until someone forces you to believe it."
Beca looked down at her hands. Chloe sat beside her and for a moment, neither said anything. Then Chloe reached for her hand. Beca let her.
"Come here."
"I'm okay."
"Come here, Becs."
Chloe tugged gently until Beca shifted closer. Then Chloe pulled her onto the futon properly, sitting beside her with their knees touching. "Bec, it's okay. Talk to me."
"No, it's not." The words came out so quietly Chloe almost missed them. Beca looked like she was about to choke on them.
Chloe's fingers tightened around hers. "Beca. What's going on?"
Beca stared at their hands, at Chloe's thumb brushing slowly across her knuckles. She'd spent so long trying not to say it, trying not to think it, trying not to want it. And suddenly, Chloe was sitting beside her, holding her hand, looking at her like she was the only person in the world. Of course Beca couldn't lie anymore, especially not to Chloe.
"I'm—" she started…then stopped. Chloe waited. Beca inhaled shakily. "I think I'm in love with you."
And then there was silence. Beca's eyes widened. "Fuck,” she covered her mouth. "I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry—"
Chloe leaned forward and kissed her. It was soft, so soft that for a moment Beca didn't understand what was happening. Chloe's lips brushed hers once, almost experimentally, then she stayed there, waiting.
Beca's whole body went still. And then, slowly, impossibly, she melted. Her shoulders dropped, her fingers curling around Chloe's as she leaned into the kiss. Chloe felt it happen, the little surrender—the breath Beca released against her mouth, the way her body seemed to finally stop fighting itself.
Chloe pulled back just enough to look at her. "We can do this, Beca."
Beca's eyes were wide. "No."
Chloe blinked. "What?"
"No."
"Bec—"
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Chloe."
"That's not an answer."
"You have a boyfriend?"
Chloe stared at her, then she cringed a bit and chuckled.
Beca blinked. “That guy? Chicago?”
"What about him?"
"You kissed him."
"Yeah."
"You liked him."
"I did." Beca's face fell. Chloe immediately reached for her hand again. "That was a short-lived fling fueled by lust, Becs. It's not real. You’re real."
Beca looked at her. Chloe squeezed her fingers. "If you want me, we can try this." Her voice was almost unbearably gentle.
"I want to try," Beca whispered, her breath catching.
"But you seemed like you had a thing going with…" Chloe frowned. "What's that guy's name?"
"Nobody."
"Exactly."
"Chloe."
"What?"
"You can't just—"
"I can."
"You don't know what you're saying."
"I do."
"You don't know how long I've wanted this—" Beca stopped herself.
Chloe's expression softened. "How long?"
Beca looked down. "Too long."
Chloe lifted their joined hands. "I think maybe me too."
Beca's eyes snapped back to hers. Chloe smiled. "So. We are both single."
"Yeah."
"And we're both sitting here talking like idiots instead of doing what we both want."
Beca laughed despite herself. "Are you sure?"
Chloe didn't hesitate. "I've never been more sure."
That was all it took for Beca to kiss her again. This time there was nothing tentative about it. Quickly, Chloe's hands found her waist and Beca's fingers slipped into Chloe's hair. They laughed against each other's mouths when their noses bumped, then kissed again, slower this time. All those years of almosts, all those moments they'd misunderstood and all those nights Beca had put headphones on because hearing Chloe with somebody else hurt too much. They were still there but suddenly they had faded.
Chloe shifted closer, pushing Beca gently back against the futon.
Beca smiled into the kiss. "You're really sure?"
"Completely,” Chloe brushed her thumb over Beca's cheek. “Now shut up.”
She kissed her again. And this time, Beca let herself believe it. Outside the green room, the venue was still alive. Crew members hurried through the halls and music thudded faintly through the walls. Hundreds of people were still talking about the show. But inside, the noise seemed impossibly far away.
For once, Beca wasn't in the corner—watching and pretending she didn't want her. She was exactly where she'd wanted to be all along…with Chloe.
And Chloe was kissing her like she'd finally figured it out, too.