Beca was sitting on her computer chair, busy throwing and catching her stress ball in the air while Chloe was lying down on Beca’s bed, scrolling through the digital contents of her laptop when, “Hey Becs, remember the Planetarium opening downtown?” the redhead asks her best friend and Beca looks at her unbelievingly. Of course she knows. They’ve been talking about it for three months. It was part of their bucket list since they were already graduating.
They’ve visited all the planetariums they could. It would always be part of their out of town itinerary and most times, they’d settle for the ‘tiny-starry-room’ in Barden. Planetariums have always been their thing. Just theirs. These are the moments Chloe Beale treasures the most. The moments when it would just be her and Beca.
i remember during the tlok series finale when mako was like “i would follow you into any battle” and everybody was so sure that makorra was endgame and i was just resigned to the fact the the straights are gonna have it again but THEN, in the next scene fcking asami interrupted tenzin and korra’s
conversation with an excuse we all know was bullshit then she and korra just
basically confessed their undying love for each other and then they held hands and looked into each other’s eyes and walked off into the sunset spirit world. AND WE POPPED THE BIGGEST BOTTLES BECAUSE IT WAS KORRASAMI THAT BECAME FUCKING CANON
“So this is where we’ll be recording,” Beca said, pushing open the heavy door. She saw Chloe glance briefly at the plaque on its front, displaying Beca’s name in glossy brass, but the producer herself hardly paid it any attention, preferring to flip the switch beside the door to flood the room with soft light. It was a spacious room, as far as studios go, but the dark red walls and oak flooring lent it a coziness that Beca had grown fond of. The far wall had huge speakers built into it, and sitting between these was a large professional soundboard with a window at its head overlooking the next room. The right wall held a display of guitars; the left had Beca’s “worktable” against it, atop which sat several files and Beca’s open laptop. There was a couch as well, a lighter, bright shade of red than the walls, sitting to the right of the door, but other than that, the room was devoid of ornamentation. Beca liked the simplicity of it; besides, she worked from home on most days. “I have an office upstairs, too, but I don’t usually use it. I’m usually here if someone needs me.”
“Why have an office if you don’t use it?” Chloe asked, sounding genuinely curious, and Beca shrugged, setting her bag down by her chair.
“Appearance, mostly. Official stuff. Sammy says it looks better on me or some shit.” She swept towards the soundboard and started flipping switches across the top; the lights behind the window flickered to life, revealing the recording booth behind it.
“Beca,” Chloe said after a moment, softly, and the tension in the room multiplied tenfold. Beca gritted her teeth and tried to ignore how her name on Chloe’s tongue sent solid shivers down her spine and tightened her chest until she could barely breathe.
“Em will probably be with us a few days a week,” she said instead of replying, proud that she controlled the tremor in her voice. “Her songwriting skills are sharp as ever, thank God, or I’d never get anywhere.” She started to work different parts of the soundboard, preparing for a session.
“Beca,” Chloe said, more firmly this time, and this time Beca paused, closing her eyes and biting her cheek against the hurt and bitterness and betrayal she felt, and the anger that it came with. Her fingers stilled against the controls, but couldn’t turn around.
“Don’t.” It came out hard, sharp, and the room went cold with her anger. She felt rather than heard Chloe inhale with surprise, felt her falter before pushing to try again. She had never liked Beca’s anger, the brunette reflected; not because she was afraid (not that Beca couldn’t become a bit terrifying), but because of how destructive it was. “Just don’t, okay?”
“I can’t. You know we gotta talk–”
Beca’s fragile control snapped, and she turned on her heel to face the redhead. “Oh, so now you wanna talk? Why now? It’s been five goddamn years , Chloe, and now you wanna talk?” An angry film obscured her vision, but she impatiently scrubbed it away. “You never bothered before, so why now? For that matter, why come back?”
Chloe looked thoroughly startled. “Bec, there was just stuff I had to do.”
“Just stuff,” Beca echoed scornfully. “Bigger things? Better things? Big enough to leave your friends behind?”
“What would have had me do?” Chloe demanded. “Sat around while you became a superstar? I had to learn to do things on my own–”
“But you couldn’t stand to pick up a phone?”
“Did you?” Chloe snapped back.
Beca flared up faster than she ever had before. “You know damn well I did. I left a voicemail every night for three months, Chloe. Did you bother to listen to them at all?” Chloe’s eyes widened, and Beca knew she had her. “I would never leave you like that, Chloe. Not like….”
Chloe heard what she didn’t say. Not like she had left Beca. Her eyes softened, and so did her voice. “Why did you stay?” she asked Beca suddenly, and Beca’s throat constricted. She looked away from the crystal blues and clenched her jaw, refusing to speak. “I figured you and Jesse–”
“I want nothing to do with Jesse,” Beca said flatly, still refusing to look at Chloe.
“He went to New York to chase his own dreams. I refused to go.”
Chloe’s brow furrowed, and she took a hesitant step forward. “Why not? Why not LA, then?”
Beca clenched her jaw again. She knew why she didn’t want to leave, why nowhere other than Atlanta appealed to her, and she didn’t want to talk about it.
Chloe was quiet for a moment. After some time, she said softly, “I left to find my voice.” Beca snorted contemptuously and crossed her arms. “I did, Beca. And I did because I wanted to be able to do the things you can; trap people in this bubble of music that doesn’t let go.” Beca looked sideways at her out of the corner or her eye. “I wanted to do it as well as you did, so we could do this together. That’s what you wanted, right? I just didn’t feel ready. I had to find my own way for a while.”
Beca was quiet, but Chloe’s words struck every chord in her body and made it thrum with relief. “Why come here? You thought I went off with Jess, so why here?”
“I hoped your boss could point me to where you had gone. Em convinced me to come in myself.” Chloe fidgeted. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I didn’t know.”
Beca pursed her lips, staring at her palms, at the ladybug etched into her left one. “I missed you, y'know. Every day. You never had to prove yourself to me.”
“I know. But I had to prove it to myself. And I missed you too, Bec. Bad, but I –” Chloe shook her head. “Calling you felt like cheating. Maybe that’s stupid, but I had to do it on my own. No help, no encouragement.”
Beca nodded. She thought she could understand a little; she understood the drive. Satisfied that Beca had shed her anger, Chloe came forward and wrapped the smaller woman in a hug. Beca would normally have shrugged away, but Chloe’s hug felt warm and like home, and she didn’t really want to let go, so she wrapped her arms around Chloe too and tucked her chin into her shoulder.
“If you ever leave again,” she said gruffly, chest tight again, “I don’t think I’ll be able to sing again. Music is too hard without you here.”
It was quiet for a moment. Then Chloe rested her chin in Beca’s hair. “I guess that means I’m staying. I don’t think I could live in a world where you’re not singing.”
And Beca didn’t think she had ever felt warmer.
“For the record,” Chloe mumbled, “I did listen to your voicemails. Every night.”
Actually, she could.
In which Bec Noir is a very angry wolf puppy and Dave’s life is hard.
“Jade—you—“ You fluster to a halt, groping for words. Your spine feathers are really standing on end now, all the way to the nape of your neck where they blend into your hair. Your skin is goose-bumping, your hand itching for your sword, and the stray scattering of feathers along your shoulders feels prickly. There is a very tiny chance that what you are doing could feasibly be described as ‘freaking out.’ You try taking in a slow breath.
“You stole a wolf demon?”
“He was already stolen!” Jade says defensively, “I just stole him more!”
“Don’t freak out,” is the first thing Jade says to you when she gets back to your campsite.