Work Text:
Age: 15/16
Sophomore Year of High School
January
Beca thought she would feel better about coming back to school after Christmas break. Her self-imposed isolation from Chloe had been painful, but oddly Beca feels somewhat refreshed, ready to go back to school, getting back to making music, and training for the upcoming track season.
It’s just...Chloe. Chloe is still on her mind. It had helped to not see her for a few weeks, but if anything it only really cemented the fact that her stupid crush on her best friend wasn’t going away. On top of all of that, now Beca feels guilty. She feels guilty for freezing Chloe out. She feels guilty for all the perceived dishonesty that has built up over the past year. However long she’s had these new, crazy feelings for Chloe, it has absolutely taken a toll on their relationship and Beca knows it is largely her own doing.
It is also a bit of a stretch to hope Chloe hasn’t noticed.
Especially considering that Chloe has shown up on her doorstep the day before they're due back in school, looking very cute and bundled up in her big winter coat and hat.
“Beca...hi.”
Beca’s mother brushes past them on the way out, already rushing. Beca rolls her eyes, stepping aside to let her mother past. “Have a good day at school, girls!” her mother calls haphazardly over her shoulder.
“We don’t have school today,” Chloe points out, wrinkling her nose in confusion.
“I know,” Beca murmurs, stepping aside to fully let Chloe inside. “But she doesn’t. Clearly.”
Chloe chuckles at that, a dry little sound. Her eyes are sympathetic as she shrugs off her winter coat. Beca takes the coat automatically, both of them going through the motions by force of habit.
“We just got back from Florida,” Chloe says finally when Beca has yet to say anything else. She unclenches her fist, reveal a small metal necklace that had escaped Beca’s notice earlier. It is a simple seashell design—a locket of sorts—with Beca’s name engraved on the back. “I got you something,” Chloe explains unnecessarily. “Um, it’s…” she trails off, watching Beca hesitantly. “If you want it.”
It breaks Beca’s heart to know that their relationship soured to this point. “Of course I do,” Beca mumbles, momentarily too ashamed to look at Chloe.
“Um...and also if you want me.”
Beca’s eyes dart up at that, comically-wide, she’s sure. But it can’t be helped. She had to have misheard Chloe. “Uh, what?” she asks, unable to stop the waver in her voice. Her heart pounds. She clutches the necklace tightly to stop her hands from fidgeting under Chloe’s incredibly blue gaze.
“If you’ll...still have me. As a friend.”
Beca is struck by twin sensations of relief and disappointment. “I...of course, Chlo. That’s...of course we’re friends. You’re my best friend.” My only friend, sometimes.
Chloe clasps her hands together nervously. “I didn’t mean to make that sound so dramatic...but I kept thinking all break that I did something wrong. Or that I hurt you in some way.” She reaches forward tentatively to grab Beca’s forearms. When Beca makes no move to jolt away, she steps closer. “You’d tell me, right? If I did something to hurt you?”
“Yes,” Beca responds truthfully. It is the whole truth. She would tell Chloe if Chloe had hurt her in some way. It’s just that this is...not Chloe’s doing. This whole “having feelings for her best friend” thing is not Chloe’s fault, if any fault can be attributed at all.
It’s just a hard place to be in, Beca knows that.
“I’ve just been...going through some things. Emotionally,” she explains with some evasion. “I can’t really talk about it yet, but...I’m not mad at you.”
Chloe’s eyes dim a little. “I want to be there for you.”
“I just needed some space.”
Her eyes dim further. “Not...from me, right?” She drops Beca’s arms, folding her arms across her midsection instead.
“No,” Beca lies, finally. “Can we just…” she sighs. “Can we just be okay? I’m sorry this break was a little weird. But you were going away and…”
Chloe blinks, shaking her head a little as if to clear her thoughts. “Yeah, yeah of course, Beca. Whatever you want.”
“No, just—I need you to know that we’re okay. And I’m going to try and be better,” Beca promises. “I’m sorry,” she says sincerely. “I missed you, you know?”
Chloe’s smile stretches slowly. “I missed you too, dork. I also plan on seeing way more of you this term.”
“Oh you do, do you?” Beca asks, finding it remarkably easy to sink back into the same banter with Chloe. She still feels incredibly guilty for freezing Chloe out when Chloe has absolutely no idea. She knows that the alternative of not having Chloe in her life at all is so much worse than whatever pains she feels at the thought of Chloe not reciprocating her feelings. Above all, Chloe is her best friend. I’m going to try, she vows, watching Chloe bite her lip in contemplation.
“Starting with Winter Formal,” Chloe declares.
Beca’s jaw drops. “What?”
“We’re going to the Winter Formal together. You, me, and Tom.”
Beca’s stomach plummets. “Oh that sounds” horrible “nice,” she finishes.
“I promise it won’t be like third-wheeling at all.” Chloe leans in closer. “We can pretend like he isn’t even there.”
It is exactly that—moments like that—which confuses Beca. Chloe frequently makes statements like that, usually in jest or teasing but still jarring all the same, and she does it so nonchalantly. Beca isn’t quite sure what she feels at that moment, but she knows that she wants to make Chloe happy. And Chloe clearly thinks that Beca is feeling somewhat excluded in some ways (sometimes she does, it’s true), so she’s making up it up to Beca in her own weird Chloe way.
Beca can’t help but love her for it; Beca can’t help but love her even more.
“Fine,” Beca says. “But I’m going dress-shopping by myself.”
Chloe pouts. “Are you—”
“Chloe.”
I can’t handle seeing you in various states of undress, parading around in pretty dresses. Looking like you do.
She holds her tongue.
“Fine,” Chloe finally agrees.
Beca takes a breath, straightening out the minuscule crease she finds in her dress. Every time she looks at herself in the mirror, she finds another imperfection.
Another flaw.
Another reason for her not to go to this stupid thing.
Another reason not to go just to watch Chloe and Tom dance the night away, making everybody jealous as they all watch from the sidelines.
Her phone chimes again, this time three times in a row. Beca sighs, moving to pick it up.
Chloe
Hey my brother’s gonna drive us to Tom’s place soon!!
Are you ready??
I’m so excited to see you!
Beca smiles despite the gnawing sensation in her stomach and quickly taps out a reply to Chloe. Chloe’s enthusiasm for everything had always been contagious and Beca finds herself still smiling as she finally moves to grab her handbag.
Beca
Be right there!
Beca notes that her mother is nowhere to be found. She figures she’s out grabbing dinner. Beca kind of wishes her mother had brought her dinner as well so she could avoid dinner with Tom and Chloe before the dance, but then she wouldn’t have a ride to school and it would just be too complicated to explain to Chloe exactly why Beca wants to avoid dinner with her bonehead boyfriend.
She feels slightly guilty, thinking such things about Tom. He’s a nice enough guy, but Beca feels unnerved every time he so much as looks at her. It’s like he knows exactly what thoughts have floated through Beca’s head—the dark, wanting thoughts of his girlfriend. His girlfriend. Not Beca’s.
Beca wonders, not for the first time, if she can even still consider herself Chloe’s best friend. Things have been so weird recently. Uncomfortable. Beca’s sure it’s about 99% her fault, but she flounders more often than not and she wishes more than anything that Chloe could just see inside her head. Or at least feel her emotions.
Beca glances at her reflection again as she passes the mirror in the foyer, this time striding out the door with determination.
Despite things being weird with Chloe over the past little while, Beca holds out some hope that tonight will be different.
Tonight can be different.
“You look—” Beautiful. Stunning. “So nice,” Beca finishes lamely. She lets Chloe pull her into the backseat, smiling all the while. Chloe does look pretty with her hair in waves down over her shoulders. She is wearing a beautiful dark blue dress, longer than the cocktail-esque dress Beca has chosen. Beca tries not to note how their colors—red and blue—compliment each other so nicely.
“You look amazing,” Chloe says sincerely. “That dress is adorable.”
“I picked it out without your help thank you very much.”
“I never doubted you.”
Beca grins. This she can do. “Liar.”
Chloe sticks her tongue out. “Am not.”
Chloe’s brother purposefully jacks the music louder. “I can’t wait until you two losers get your licenses.”
Chloe yelps, punching the back of her brother’s seat. “Shut up. I’m getting mine soon. Be useful.”
Beca giggles, smiling shyly when Chloe’s eyes cut to her upon hearing her laugh. She shrugs, settling back in her seat. Hearing Chloe and her brother engage in banter is a reminder that everything can be normal. Everything can be lighthearted.
Nothing has to change, Beca tells herself. She can do this.
She glances at Chloe who is tapping out a message on her phone. Her eyes track over Chloe’s eyelashes, the curve of her nose, then the silhouette of her lips. Beca couldn’t stop the onslaught of thoughts even if she tried.
Full, Beca thinks, testing the word out in her mind. Full lips. Kissable. Kissable lips.
Her face grows hot as her mind begins conjuring up a full-fledged fantasy. She quickly looks away from Chloe and turns to stare out the window.
Tom pulls open the car door and is about to lean in when he notices Beca is sitting in place.
“Oh,” he says. “Switch with me, Beca.”
Beca wants to punch him. “No, I’m okay.”
Now Tom kind of looks like he wants to punch her.
“Dude, get out.”
Beca isn’t sure what comes over her. She crosses her arms. “Dude,” she mocks back. “Just sit in the front.”
Beca so knows what he wants to say—he wants to tell her that Chloe is his girlfriend. But in doing so, it would only embarrass him in front of both Chloe and her older brother. Even Tom has more self-respect than that.
Tom glares at Beca for a long moment.
“Just sit in front dude,” Max says, pinning Tom with a stare that has even Beca blinking from the intimidation.
“Fine,” he mutters.
“Sorry!” Chloe squeaks out, though before Beca can shoot her an incredulous expression for apologizing to that dickwad, Chloe shrugs. “Beca was here first.”
And because Chloe Beale just has a knack for dissipating tension, the tension does exactly that: it breaks, leaving them all in a pleasant silence save for the soft music coming from the speakers.
Beca tries not to smirk. She knows Tom can probably see her in the side mirror. It makes the temptation all the more pressing.
They grab burgers at the diner, Chloe sandwiched between Tom and Beca as they huddle at the counter. Their server smiles fondly at them, acknowledging that they all look stunning and that they’re probably excited to have a night out. Beca startles when Tom puts an arm around Chloe, jostling her in the process. She attempts to glare at him over Chloe’s shoulder, but he isn’t quite paying attention.
Beca sighs and puts her burger down, playing with her fries instead.
“What event is this? A high school dance?”
“Winter formal.”
“And you’re all going together?”
Tom answers that quickly enough. “We’re going together,” he says in a tone that clearly indicates he thinks nothing of Beca’s presence there.
“We’re all going together,” Chloe corrects, placing a hand on Beca’s forearm. Beca warms at the touch and smiles shyly up at their server who looks delighted at her smile.
“I love your dress,” she whispers to Beca as she passes. “Red is a good colour on you.”
Chloe practically vibrates in her seat. She giggles and pulls at Beca’s arm. “I agree.”
Beca tries not to think about how much it matters that Chloe thinks that.
“And you,” the server says, pulling Chloe’s empty plate from in front of her. “Your dress is gorgeous! It matches this one’s eyes,” she points out, nodding at Beca. She lets her words drop overtop their heads with no small measure of devastation. Beca can already sense the stony silence from Tom.
Beca quickly looks away from Chloe and Tom, not wanting to see whatever flickers across both their faces. She hadn’t noticed, but Chloe’s dress is a peculiar shade of blue.
“Huh, I didn’t notice,” Chloe murmurs.
Tom replies, probably something incredibly boring, but Beca can’t hear him over the sudden rush through her ears.
She files it away, deciding not to mull over it.
Beca hovers on the outskirts of the crowds, opting to linger instead by the bleachers and the punch. She smiles hesitantly at the teachers that walk by, but other than that, she fiddles uselessly with her handbag.
She can just see Chloe and Tom every now and then, flicking in and out of sight as they move between people. There is an ease to which Chloe socializes—the way she can so easily meld with people; the way she can so easily bond. And Tom, of course, is her perfect counterpart.
Future prom queen and king. That’s the title looming over their heads and everybody knows it. Especially them.
Beca tamps down the jealousy that rises in her at the thought. Yet another label to which Chloe is probably excited to subscribe, but yet another label which Beca can’t really help her with. She imagines briefly what it would be like to dance with Chloe like that—to hold her in her arms and slowdance with her as the music around them fades to nothing. Beca imagines it would be akin to feeling like they were the only two people on the dance floor.
Unfortunately, the only two people on the dance floor she has any real interest in are slow dancing as of now. Beca swallows back some lemonade, wondering if she should have eaten more at the diner because her stomach churns uncomfortably. She can just see their profiles through the crowd.
Tom leans in for a kiss.
Beca wants to look away—she should, in fact, look away—but she just cannot bring herself to do it. It feels like a painstakingly long moment in which Beca realizes how far out of her depth she is. She never had a chance with Chloe, not when Chloe has her perfect Prince Charming ready to swoop her off her feet.
It suddenly feels like Beca is intruding on an intimate moment and she quickly makes her way to a new spot, not feeling much like dancing.
She shouldn’t have come.
“Bec, come dance with us!”
That sounds exactly like something Beca decidedly does not want to do, but she follows Chloe through throngs of people. The song is fun, top 40 and exactly what Chloe loves. Beca bops along, laughing when Chloe attempts to pull some crazier dance moves. They’re not bad, which is impressive on its own.
God, Beca loves her. Beca loves Chloe and her expressive eyes and her wild hair and all the amazing, wonderful things that make her who she is.
She loves her.
The thought makes Beca freeze, almost. She would lock out completely if Chloe didn’t choose that moment to grab her wrists and pull her in closer for a friendlier dance.
“Come on!” Chloe says again. “Dance, Bec.”
Beca attempts to move her suddenly sluggish feet, but she can only stare in Chloe as if she is moving in slow motion. The lights dance across Chloe’s face, painting her in technicolor.
“Wow,” Beca says before she can help herself.
Chloe slows a little, not completely stopping, and steps closer. “What was that?”
Beca swallows, catching a whiff of Chloe’s perfume. It feels like every sense is exceptionally loaded and stimulated. “I, uh, nothing. I’m—”
Chloe slows. “Beca?” she asks, concerned.
Beca takes a step back, wondering if this was too much, too soon.
Tom suddenly steps into Beca’s view—how hadn’t she noticed him before?—and puts an arm around Chloe’s waist, pressing against her comfortably. His broad shoulders dwarf Chloe’s; he makes Beca feel so small.
“Let her go,” he says simply, in a neutral tone. Nothing too crazy. Just three simple words.
It’s his eyes that catch Beca off guard. Accusatory, almost.
He knows.
Beca inhales sharply, nodding and spinning on her heel to exit the circle of people on the dance floor. She needs water. She needs air.
She needs to get out.
She barely makes it out of the circle when Chloe catches up to her, pushing them both to the outskirts.
“Beca, wait, what happened? Are you okay?” Chloe somehow makes her voice sound soft, even though she has to raise it to be heard over the music.
Beca swallows, glancing over Chloe’s shoulder. She doesn’t see that Tom has followed Chloe in any way. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I got...claustrophobic.”
“You’re not claustrophobic.”
Beca yanks her hands out of Chloe’s grasp. “How would you know that?” she snaps.
It is a horrible reaction that Beca tries to stop, but it slips out of her regardless. Her pent up anger and frustration, mostly with herself, finally unleashing themselves. This time on Chloe.
“You’ve been so different lately,” Chloe whispers.
This time, she does whisper. A small, broken whisper that Beca hears like a freight train rushing past her. It hurts her to hear Chloe’s voice like that.
“I’m sorry,” Beca says, desperate. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
Chloe tries to smile comfortingly. “It’s okay, I just want to help you.”
“I know.”
She does know. Chloe has only ever supported her and cared for her and loved her. From the moment they met at five years old. Chloe has been Beca’s rock.
“Come back and dance,” Chloe pleads. “Please.”
“I...maybe later,” Beca says half-heartedly. “I’ll come later.”
Chloe knows she’s lying. That’s the worst part. The betrayal in Chloe’s eyes almost does Beca in completely. She’s been a complete idiot over the past few weeks, keeping Chloe at a distance. But it’s the...the magnitude of her feelings for Chloe. Chloe, her best friend, who has no idea that Beca has this growing, stupid crush on her.
Chloe, who has no idea that Beca thinks she may be falling in love with her and she has no idea how to stop it.
She doesn’t know if she wants to stop it.
Chloe...who is dating Tom.
Chloe, who deserves to be happy without Beca, even if that means Beca hurting both of them for the time being so Chloe can have space to be happy.
And Beca can have space to move on.
She takes a step back.
“Come dance,” Chloe repeats. “Please, it’s fun. I promise.” She doesn’t sound so desperate anymore. Just defeated.
“Later,” Beca lies again. She hates school dances, she has decided. She never even wanted to come, but Chloe insisted.
Chloe stares at her for a long moment.
Tell me to stay, Beca thinks.
Chloe’s mouth opens, her eyes alight with something new.
Beca’s heart leaps. Maybe—
Tom appears, materializing from the crowd. He wraps a hand around Chloe’s forearm, grabbing her attention. Beca thinks he says “Let’s go dance, Chloe.”
She’s not sure, because she’s already turning away.
As she looks around at the crowd around her, she tries to pick out a familiar face. A friendly face. She sees Stacie and Aubrey and Flo. Maybe some other girls on her track squad. But they all have each other. She could join them. Perhaps.
But seeing all these people—her classmates and peers—she feels more alone than ever. She would have stayed for Chloe. She should stay for Chloe.
She glances over her shoulder.
Chloe is gone.
Beca waits outside the gymnasium for her mother. It does not take too long. Beca braces herself for the onslaught as the car slides to a stop in front of her.
“What happened to Max driving you home? Going home with Chloe?” Diane demands the moment Beca slides into the car.
Beca tosses her bag to the floor of the car, wishing her mom would just start the car already. “It’s not...happening,” is all she can offer in explanation. Her heart pounds in her chest, painfully reliving the sight of Chloe and Tom kissing while sharing an intimate dance.
“Why not?” her mother asks, sounding rather upset. “Beca, you know I have work tomorrow. I have to be in the office early because of a big client.”
“I know,” Beca whispers. She feels bad now. She disrupted her mother’s schedule. Again. Simply because she couldn’t keep her own emotions under control. “I—”
“I was already in bed, Beca. I can’t always be ferrying you around when you know how busy I’ve been lately.”
But you’re here now, Beca wants to say. That means something, right?
Her inquiry echoes around in her head. Weak from disuse. Faded from overthinking.
“I’m sorry,” Beca murmurs finally, unable to make her voice louder than a whisper. She wants to cry, desperately, but she clenches her fists to stop herself. “I didn’t…” her voice wavers and she chooses instead to look out the passenger window so her mother cannot see her inevitable tears.
She can’t even stop herself from crying anymore.
She can’t do anything.
Her mother says nothing for several long moments as they drive the short path home.
A small, hopeful part of Beca—smaller and smaller each day—wonders if today will be the day her mother comforts her. Offers her a hug. Kisses her cheek or hand.
Tells her it’s going to be okay.
Beca waits.
She waits as they turn the familiar corner onto their street.
She waits as they pass Chloe’s house.
She waits as they turn onto their driveway.
Nothing.
In a daze, Beca walks up the stairs to her bedroom, ignoring the sound of her mother’s voice. She kicks off her heels and peels the awful red dress off her body. Her phone chimes from her bag and reluctantly she goes to it.
Chloe
did you leave?
where did you go??
Beca
at home
Dont worry
my mom picked me up
Chloe
Bec what???
My brother was going to drive us both home
Beca are you okay? :(
Beca is already crying before Chloe sends her last message. She glares at it through blurry eyes and angrily tosses the phone away before crawling into bed. The vision of Chloe’s message still stares up at her in an accusatory manner.
Chloe
I just wanted you to know that i thought you looked so pretty tonight and i wish we got to dance together. goodnight
Beca already hates the new year.