Beca's POV

It doesn't begin until after the ICCA win. You're sure that you finally understand where your place is in the world for the first time ever. The Barden Bellas are champions, you don't feel the need to flee to L.A. to get away from college and your father, and best of all you're with an amazingly wonderful and cute guy who treats you right. If anything, that should be the end of the story.

Yet it doesn't end there. In fact, the next year the Bellas crash and burn at Regionals, you wistfully hover over the "buy" button for a one-way ticket to L.A. more than once, and you find yourself avoiding Jesse more and more for no particular reason. These three things are inexplicably connected although you sure as hell don't think they should be.

While the loss at Regionals is not quite as epic as the upchucking by one Aubrey Posen, it still lands in a category of its own. A bit of stumbling in the choreography and Fat Amy's starting of the domino effect results in the best part of the performance, basically. As a result, you become increasingly withdrawn, spending weeks on end buried in your shared apartment with Chloe, only emerging for classes and occasionally, for Jesse. Understandably your grades and relationship take a big dive, but somehow you can't find it within yourself to actually care.

Surprisingly, things between you and Chloe build easily, things that were "Jesse" this and "Jesse" that morph into "Chloe" and her name chants through your head. The affection you once felt for Jesse was a slow step by step that became stronger as time went on. But Jesus, what you feel for Chloe, you don't even know what it is, but it came out of nowhere and slammed right into you. Now you can only muster up any sort of enthusiasm for mixing the most ridiculous songs and spending time with Chloe, who becomes concerned with your downward spiral.

"This isn't healthy," Chloe sing-songs for the hundredth time this week, and if she wasn't wearing that teasing smile, you'd be annoyed as fuck. "I'm sure your boyfriend would like to spend some time with you."

"I just want a bit of alone time," you defend yourself, your arms crossed as you sit crisscross in front of the TV lying against her legs that are dangling from the sofa.

"You're with me, though. Not really alone."

"Damn you for always being right then, Ms. Beale," you deadpan and sigh, "I just don't feel up to seeing him right now."

"Okay." Now hopefully that's the end of that. But it hardly is as the redhead pulls on your arm so that you sit on the sofa next to her. "Okay, Ms. Mitchell, but when he calls and asks where you are, I'm not lying for you."

It should feel like a fight, it should make you want to collapse, hide yourself and just ignore the other girl. But it only makes you feel like there's something you need to apologize for.

Damnit, my life is not an apology. "Don't be like that, please. I didn't mean it."

The older girl's eyes meet yours unnervingly, as if she can see everything that's going on in your mind. God, you hope not. The light blue is unreadable as Chloe's grim expression slowly relaxes into a soft smile, "You're unhappy, and I don't like seeing you like this. That's all."

The irritation fades away quickly, and you sigh heavily, your defenses and walls crumbling away. How does she do that? "I'm just scared to be happy for too long."

"Scared?" It should feel probing, invasive even. You try to summon any sort of defensiveness, but it fails you.

What compels you to answer, you're not sure. "Like I don't know how to be happy. I thought that was my lot in life, being unhappy." You've thought this many times over, but now that they're voiced, you feel foolish and naïve. "It's silly, just, never mind."

"No, it's not silly," Chloe pulls you in for a hug from behind, your back cradling into the other girl's embrace. As your heart jumps inside its cage, she whispers in your ear, "It is sad though."

You don't talk after that, just settle in and watch Desperate Housewives (Chloe's pick, obviously) in comfortable silence. And when the phone rings, you expect her to hand it to you with an expecting stare, but instead she switches it off without a word.

The words "thank you" threaten to leave your mouth, but instead you entwine your fingers with hers, hoping she'll understand. She brings your joined hands up to her mouth where her lips barely brush your knuckles, the action bringing tears to your eyes. You blink it away and force down the lump in your throat. You're not even sure what anything is anymore.

So it shouldn't come as a surprise when an angry Jesse finally meets up with you in your apartment while Chloe is out shopping.

"I called you five times, Beca. Five! You answered an astoundingly low number of times, as in zero."

"Jesse," your tone must betray exactly what you're about to do, because he raises his hand with a choked sound.

"Are you really going to do this?"

"I can't."

"Can't what?" His voice is so desperate and his eyes pleading. Everything about him is candid and clearly there for you to interpret and he's so earnest in his heartbreak that you almost can't bring yourself to say the next words.

"I can't do this anymore," your chest aches with some emotion you can't quite pinpoint, but you can also feel relief spread to your fingertips.

Jesse lets out a shaky exhale as he screws his eyes shut tightly, his hand coming up to massage his forehead. "It's because of Chloe, isn't it?" You're not even surprised; you haven't been hiding it exactly. "Is it useless to ask for a second chance?" His voice is quiet and defeated.

It touches something in you as you reach out to touch his cheek feeling the slight stubble under your fingertips, "God no, Jesse, it's not like that. You don't need to change, you're perfect. Like you're the most perfect boyfriend ever, I just-"

"Are you going to give me the it's-not-you-it's-me spiel? 'Cause that's in basically every movie's break up scene." There's wet streaks dripping down from his eyes now, and you can't bring yourself to realize that he's crying. Because if you've made him cry, then you don't think you can face this. "Can you just tell me the truth? Can you just do me that one favor?"

Maybe you do owe him that much. "Fine, it is you. You're not Chloe." Your voice wavers slightly at the other girl's name, but your eyes pin his calmly. "I can't help it. I just don't want to lie to you anymore."

"Thank you," Jesse chuckles through a wet sob. "Thank you for being honest. Thank you for crushing my heart too, you know."

This is why you didn't want a relationship. You're hopeless at them. You just fuck everything up.

He stands and you think he's walking out, but no, he's just opening the fridge to get a bottle of beer (having an of-age roommate has its perks). It's drained quickly and he's reaching for another one. You'll allow him this too then, although more than anything, you want him out and gone right now. The time ticks by painfully slow, the awkwardness becoming more than you can bear and he's had three and on his fourth before you realize it.

"You're a masochist or something, you know?" Jesse is obviously still hurt and a little bit drunk. His words are jumbling together, not quite making sense. "You just want something you can't have so you can feel the pain of wanting. You like not being happy."

"And you're drunk," the dismissal is immediate as you turn towards the new voice. Chloe stands at the doorway, her arms laden with grocery bags. There's a slight crease in her forehead, but other than that you can't discern her reaction or mood. "It's late Jesse, you better head back before it gets too dark."

"Am I the bad guy now? The obstacle between the two protagonists?" He's not slurring as much anymore but you panic anyway, your hand falls against his chest.

"Come on, Jesse."

He looks at you and his eyes clear for one moment. Then he nods and walks out the door in silence.

"What was he talking about?" She's by your side in an instance, her hand touching your arm in what should be comfort. It's electric, her touch, you feel it coursing along your skin. You know it's your moment now. You know that you should tell her how you feel because this is the best chance you'll ever get.

"We broke up." That's all you can get out. She can't know about how you feel, the friendship you have with her is the only thing that's intact in your life right now.


You want to tell her. You do. But you can't. So instead, you shrug, "It just wasn't fair to him."

Chloe maneuvers the two of you so that your back is against the kitchen counter and she's leaning towards you, her fingers encircling both of your wrists. Your heart stops and your stomach drops as the smell of her shampoo mixed with the cold outside air hits you.

"Was it because of me?"

It completely disarms you. Somehow, she reads you like an open book, although you were sure you were closed the last time you checked. You're not sure how she knows, or how she's able to ask it so calmly, and confidently. You can lie to her, say it's not, say that Jesse just isn't right for you. You can deflect and say it's a lot of things. It doesn't cross your mind to tell her the truth.

"Beca, are you in love with me?"

"No." Your rejection is fast, a knee-jerk reaction. "No, no, no, I'm not."

Chloe looks at you, just simply surveys your expression.

"Yes." You can't breathe, so you're not sure how that's slipped out. Her eyes, her blue eyes, her eyes so blue that they should be illegal have seen into you, and you can't help it. "Yes."

There's a terrible silence that really, just tells you all you need to know.

"I'm sorry," she starts to say, leaning back, but you just can't hear her say it.

"It's not fair, Chloe," your voice is surprisingly even despite the raging emotions rising up inside. "You tear and tear at all my walls until they're down and I have nothing, and I'm just all out in the open. Then you just leave me so vulnerable, you don't give me anything to shield myself with." You laugh once, clear and ringing. "I feel so naked."

"I never meant to hurt you," she whispers, trying to salvage your friendship, but you are just finished. You have nothing. Literally you have nothing.

"It's fine," you're lying, and you both know it. "I just, maybe, I don't know, maybe I was too quick to come to a decision."


"No, Chloe, I can't right now, okay?" She backs away from you thankfully and you feel like you can breathe again. You shut yourself into your room and curl up. There's that instinct again. You can feel it in your tense muscles, and it echoes everywhere. Run. Run. Run.

Chloe's POV

Chloe Beale doesn't lie. She doesn't believe in it. So she can't lie to herself and say she doesn't feel anything for Beca. The moment she sees the stormy eyes, dark hair, darker expression, ear spikes and defensive posture, she knows she's a goner. It starts as a passing fancy, but Chloe accosts her in the showers, convinces her to join the Bellas, and from that moment on it's a true infatuation. It's a harmless one, though, because it's not hard to see that Jesse has the same look in his eyes. As long as Beca is with someone else, Chloe can control herself, can pretend to be the person she desperately wants to be.

Things go south the next year, Aubrey leaves for New York taking a piece of Chloe with her, and she decides to stay at Barden for graduate school. Surprisingly, the Bellas lose at Regionals. They lose so badly that even Chloe cringes in the audience. For someone who considers herself quite adept at predicting future outcomes, she doesn't quite foresee Beca's breakdown. The brunette begins to push everything and everyone away, except for her, and it should be obvious that it's a bad idea, but Chloe loses all sense of logic when she's around Beca. Instead of keeping her distance, she tries to reach past the other girl's walls and comfort her and try to revive her.

It shouldn't come as a surprise then, when Chloe comes home one day from shopping to see a tipsy and angry Jesse hissing things at a forlorn and possibly regretful Beca. The situation is obvious, and Chloe knows what this is leading to and she steadies herself. Except the part where the brunette denies being in love with her takes a turn for the unexpected when she does admit it. Totally caught off guard, Chloe heart hammers and there's a moment where she just wants to kiss Beca, but she knows she can't. She's not the girl that falls for another girl, and certainly not Beca who is closed off, sarcastic, and biting. Chloe is a Princess, and one day a Prince with a bright smile who is open and honest and earnest in everything will sweep her off her feet. She can do no less than that.

Truly, Chloe's a coward. For all her bravado and confidence, all that's underneath is a girl who feels less than a quarter as brave without someone like Aubrey standing in front, protecting her. So, she apologizes, she wants to tell Beca everything because Chloe Beale doesn't lie, but those words refuse to form in her mouth, and stick to her tongue.

I love you, too. But I'm too afraid. I'm afraid of the looks, the judgment, the disappointment. I want to feel safe, Beca. But I love you so much.

Chloe resolves to tell her the next day, everything, because she can't live with the hurt she's caused. But it really shouldn't come as a surprise the next morning, when Chloe walks into the kitchen and finds a note, but no trace of Beca.

I can't do this, Chloe.

~ B

That's it. No goodbye, no apologies, no pleading, nothing.

But really, she convinces herself, maybe it's fate, that it wasn't meant to be. It's better this way. Easier, even.

Beca's POV

Really, it's been almost three years and you should be over everything by now. You're the most popular DJ at an up and coming club in L.A. and people compliment you on your talent, something you never expected. The pay isn't amazing, but it's enough for you to get by without needing your second job as a waitress anymore. You've gone through a list of boyfriends and girlfriends, finally settling on the one you have now. Clark is tall and handsome, dark hair and dim eyes, physically he is on the other side of the spectrum from Chloe, and personality wise he is more like you than anyone you've ever met. Yet, it's Chloe's name that thrums in your veins. When you work and mix the music together seamlessly, there's a rush of adrenaline and the world fades away, but even in that utopia of perfection, you imagine your fingers running through red curls, and clear blue eyes staring back at yours.

You've kept in regular contact with Stacie, Cynthia Rose, and Fat Amy, and occasionally Jesse. So when Jesse and Fat Amy urge you to go back to Barden to attend their graduation, you tell yourself you're only going to see your friends, you're not going to chance for a glimpse of a certain redhead. Of course, you've always been good at lying to yourself, but this time not even you can deny the obvious self-deception.

"I'm so glad you came," Jesse wraps you into a friendly hug with a big grin, and you wonder how you've managed to stay friends with him. "I kind of didn't expect you to show up."

"Yeah well, I'm glad I'm here too," the lie rolls off your tongue easily and it's worth it when his eyes light up.

"Beca Mitchell!" You whirl around only to be bombarded by Cynthia Rose and Stacie who embrace you tightly, and despite it all, you find yourself laughing. "Girl, it's been too long!"

"It has," you say, and you truly mean it now. They fill you in on everything that's been going on since you left, and you share tidbits of your life in L.A.


Her voice jolts you like a jab in the stomach, and you turn to her slowly, forcing your face to relax into a smile of sorts. Everything's just as you remember, but her hair is a light blonde color now. As always, you can't read her expression, and the look in her eyes is foreign.

"Hey C," you greet as casually as you can manage and you even do an idiotic half-wave. Your arms sort of open in a shrugging gesture, but she surges forward and wraps you in a tight embrace that was the last thing you were expecting. The moment her warmth envelops you, you totally lose all composure, and you bury your face into her neck. It's really not fair that she can do this to you after so long, but as her hands flutter along your back, you lose your resentment.

"What are you doing here?" Chloe pulls back with a beam and everything has a familiarity which kind of makes you want to sob. It's like nothing has changed, but you know it has.

"Just here to see my aca-babies graduate," you joke, and the two of you fall back into the steps so easily. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"You never call, or text back," the former-redhead accuses, but it's not with venom.

"Yeah, sorry, I'll be better on that, I promise."

"We both know you won't, so don't make me fly out to L.A. to find you," Chloe teases, but you're surprised she can see through your lies still. Part of you wants to bite back and ask her why she never went to L.A. to find you, then.

"Alright, I'll definitely text you back," you make a show of pulling out your phone and waving it. She slaps your hand, playfully reprimanding you, and all you can do is stare at her eyes and fall and fall and fall. "You're blonde now."

"I wanted to see if I'd have more fun this way," she giggles and her hand remains on your arm all throughout the graduation ceremony.

The graduation goes swimmingly, but all you want is a cigarette or some booze to take the edge off that you feel. You're due back home in four days, so you just end up hanging out with your friends. Jesse's expression tells you all you need to know, that he's still enamored with you, about as much as you are with Chloe. Stacie hasn't changed at all, she grabs herself inappropriately in public and flirts shamelessly with anyone who passes. Fortunately, Cynthia Rose has changed and she's given up gambling for good (so she says), and Fat Amy is wildly awkward and hilarious as ever. The one who has changed the most is probably Chloe, who is insanely quiet (not in the scary serial killer way like Lilly), and barely says anything, but sits through everything with a small smile.

The six of you, Stacie, Fat Amy, Cynthia Rose, Jesse, Chloe and you, head out to a bar to celebrate and get smashingly drunk. Jesse and Fat Amy are lightweights, no surprise there really, and Cynthia and Stacie decide to help them home, leaving you with the object of your obsession. It's a heavy silence that lies between the two of you as you drink some vodka with Coke.

"Where are you staying?"

"With Jesse." Although you shouldn't feel guilty for saying that, you do. "Just, you know, as friends."

She looks bemused, though you don't know why. You want to ask her why, but honestly, you don't think you really want to know.

"Well he's kind of gone, you know," she gestures towards the door where he departed an hour or so ago.

Damn. "Oh, I'll just shack up in some hotel, it's cool," you wave it off, nearly knocking over your glass.

"I don't think I trust you to check yourself into a hotel at this stage," says the surprisingly sober Chloe. "Come stay with me, it's closer."

It's bad idea. So obviously a bad idea. You have no idea why you're leaning on Chloe walking back to her apartment, because it's a bad idea.

"DJ-ing at some new club, it's getting lots of attention though." You're also not sure why you're spilling everything about your life in L.A. to her right now. "Some famous celebrity I'd never heard of showed up one night."

"That's good."

"Yes, it is," as you stumble. "Dating some guy, he's really tall." Oh god, you don't even know what's coming out of your mouth anymore. "He's a drummer of a sort of popular band." You're not sure why you're divesting this information to Chloe of all people, or why you're divesting it to anyone at all.

"What's his name?" She doesn't seem very interested, it's kind of like she's just trying to get the conversation done with and get you back to her place in one piece.

"I think it's Clark," you laugh loudly, and then cringe. "You'd like him, I think."

"What's he like?"

"Well he's like a male me," you're starting to sober up a little bit with the warm outside air caressing your face, and you're not sure how much more you can say without pulling an Aubrey. "You know, has a lot of walls and doesn't talk about his feelings."

"Well if he's as great as you are, I'm sure I would like him," her arm is wrapped around your waist as she fumbles to open the front door of the apartment building. You swallow hard when her breath tickles the shell of your ear.

"He's not as great as you." You could blame it on being drunk, but you're not even feeling that buzzed anymore. It's like her hands, hot against your back have woken you up. "No one is."

"Beca, I-"

"No, wait," you press a hand to her bicep. "Let me finish, 'cause the alcohol's wearing off and I'll lose my nerve after that." She looks at you, still unreadable. "Can you just tell me, how I can forget you? Please, I'll do anything. I've tried so hard, but I'm dating some guy I don't even know very well, I've tried being alone and I've tried everything. Please."

It looks like she's about to say something, but you don't want to hear it after all. Swiftly, you cover her lips with your own and it's everything you've ever wanted and you can feel it everywhere. Her hand comes up to cup your cheek and she's kissing you back in earnest. But the spell is broken just as quickly.

"I have a boyfriend too." Your movements still and really you can feel something cracking inside.


"I love him, Beca," she whispers, her face is still perfect, her eyes are still penetrating. But those words change everything for you.

"I'm such an idiot," you laugh and back away from her, clutching the wall vainly. "Why should three years change anything?" Chloe's hand is reaching out towards you, but you shake your head. "No, I was right to leave. Everything about this hurts, okay? People tell me all my life that I have to take a chance, take a risk and love or I'll die a lonely bitter crone. Yet I take the chance, and it's really worse."

Chloe's lips are on yours again and she's pushing you against the wall with more force than you'd ever given her credit for. You grasp her upper arm, feeling the firm muscles shifting underneath as she holds you captive there.

"Do you love me?"

There's no reply, as she rests her forehead against yours, her breath ghosting over your mouth. You want to hear her deny it though, to hear her rejection, so you can finally get over her.

"I love Jake," she finally says. You look into her eyes, looking for a trace of deception, or regret, anything really. But you don't know what she's feeling, hell, you're not even sure what you're feeling right now.

"I don't think we should do this," the words are bitter in your mouth. "I should stay at a hotel."

"Okay," she doesn't push, and for that you're thankful.

But for some reason, you do, "Last chance, C. Jake or me."

She doesn't answer, just keeps walking back to her apartment door.

"You'll miss me when I'm gone!" The words slip out of your mouth before you really think about it. Jesus, you must have watched too many movies (Jesse-recommended of course) if you're resorting to such dramatic and pretentious lines.

Chloe does stop in her tracks then, but thankfully does not look at you incredulously. In fact she doesn't look back at all. There's a long silence before she replies in a soft whisper, "I will, actually."

But you so don't need this right now, so you tear out of the building running, noting that your tears are flying off your face. You don't turn back, all you can think about is getting out of here.

You're back in L.A. the next morning, not bothering to stay the rest of the four days. The first thing you do when get back home is to break up with Clark who, in his defense, isn't too fazed by it, and he kisses your forehead.

"I have no idea what's going on through your mind, I can never read you," he says, his voice quiet and muted. You two never talk again afterwards, although you see him performing occasionally.

You are not that girl, you tell yourself. The one who pines after someone who clearly has no interest in her; the one who sits in her car for hours crying to Adele. Yet here you are, watching reruns of Gilmore Girls as Titanium plays endlessly on repeat. Who would've thought Beca Mitchell would be love's bitch?

Chloe's POV

It really is no surprise that Beca's gone by the next morning, this time without even a note or text or word to anyone else. So life goes on, and Chloe can't get the brunette out of her head (she hasn't been able to for the past three years), but she pretends everything is alright. Jake notices, of course, because she wears her heart on her sleeve really, everything is out in the open, but he doesn't press it.

In the end, it's Aubrey who tries to change the game.

"Hey aca-bitch." They've kept in touch ever since she moved, and their dynamic hasn't changed much. Aubrey calls when she's stressing and freaking the fuck out, and Chloe's soothing words and humming calm her down enough to handle it.

"Hey, Aubrey."

"What's wrong?" And Aubrey knows her like the back of her own hand.

"How did-"

"Puh-lease, I can tell by your voice, don't even."

Chloe stumbles for words, in a way that she rarely does, "How do I know Jake is the one?"

"I don't think that's the question you want to ask me," Aubrey laughs. "You're so transparent, dear."

It's frustrating to be so easy to read sometimes, because she can't have secrets, she can't lie, she can't hide anything. Instead of withdrawing like Beca, Chloe has to lay it out all there, because she doesn't have a choice in the matter.

"She kissed me." After a few moments, Chloe's afraid that maybe Aubrey has disconnected, because she knows she won't be able to admit it again. "Aubrey?"

"Did you kiss her back?"


"I'm your best friend, Chloe," she hears the sigh in the blonde's voice. "And I don't even like Mitchell. Remember that as I tell you that you're being unfair to her. You're leading her on, either dump Jake and run after her, or just stop."

"I'm not in love with Jake," Chloe barely manages to choke it out with a sob.

"Then don't lead him on either. Chloe, choose who you'll be the happiest with," her best friend's voice gets a little softer.

"I'm scared, Aubrey."

"I know, honey. But if you let fear dominate your life, you'll never be happy."

When Chloe was a little girl of five or six, her parents used to tell her fairytales; they told the traditional ones, of course, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, and Snow White, but they also told ones starring her. Her mother would weave stories out of nowhere about a beautiful princess with flowing red hair and shining blue eyes who was brave and would go out on wondrous adventures where she would meet a handsome prince who would make all her dreams come true. The only thing Chloe believed in more than Santa, was that she would indeed meet this perfect man someday.

Even after her mother died a few years later, she still held onto her childhood stories even if her father never talked about them anymore. Her father never remarried, he couldn't bear to, but he raised her as best as he could. At her high school graduation, her father had embraced her and told her, "It's been tough without her. Even if she doesn't live, her imagination will." He looks at her with a solemn kiss to her forehead. "You'll find your prince and your happy ending." Never has she wanted that fantasy future more than that moment, if not for herself, but for her father and the memory of her mother.

So when Jake proposes to her the following month, she says yes. As he slips a beautiful intricate diamond ring on her finger, she feels her heart breaking in the worst way. When he kisses her, she cries silently against his lips.

"What's wrong?" There's genuine concern and worry in his perfect brown eyes.

"I'm just so happy," she says.

Chloe Beale is not a liar. But here she is, lying to her fiancé and he's too in love with her to see through it.

She calls her father and tells him the news and he's so happy for her and excited that she almost forgets her own misery.

"This is wonderful news, Cee Cee," he gushes, and it vaguely sounds like he's crying. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes. Yes, I want this more than anything."

Chloe Beale is not a liar. She's an open book. Any passerby who wishes to know what she is thinking can see it on her face, or ask her for her true thoughts. There have been a few rare times where she tries to hide what she truly thinks, but everyone is able to see through her charade easily. She cannot lie.

"That's great, honey, I'm so happy for you. Mommy would be proud."

Everything is a sham.

Beca's POV

The club you're working at gets taken over by some larger chain of clubs, but they know not to make too many changes. They keep the manager, they keep you, and they keep the regular bouncers. Due to this change, your hours are more bearable and you're actually making decent money, more than you'd ever expected to make from your "hobby".

It's probably three or four months after this change that Jesse shows up at your doorstep unannounced with a big hug and smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"Got a job working on a score for a small indie movie," he laughs, and you're glad that dream of his has come true.

"Well, more importantly, how'd you find me?"

"Short female DJ, angry looking, earspikes, name of Beca," Jesse lists off his fingers, "Surprisingly not that many here in L.A." You shove him playfully before his expression turns a bit more serious. "You just up and disappeared on us after graduation. What happened?"

"I told you, had an emerg-"

"You lie so well," he seems a bit amazed at this. "Like nothing on your face betrays it. You don't look or feel guilty afterwards either."

"Then why do you think I'm lying?"

"Because I asked Chloe where you went, and she said your grandmother had fallen deathly ill, and we both know she's a terrible liar," Jesse chuckles. "And then I ask you, and you say your club demanded you return. And let's be honest, you'd tell them to shove off if it meant you could spend one more minute with Chloe."

"Well if you've got me all figured out, you must know why I left," you snark, regretting it immediately.

His eyes soften as he touches your cheek, "You're like me, Beca. We're both so hopeless with love. Wanting what we can't have."

"Yeah, masochism, you and me both." Sarcasm drips from your tone, but he nods in real agreement.

"Why don't you give me another chance?" His voice is hopeful and longing, and you know exactly what he's feeling.

"Because I don't love you, Jesse! Not like that. I can't do that to you. You deserve someone who is so in love with you that her heart beats wildly every time she just thinks of you."

"I don't care!" He bursts out so suddenly you recoil. "I don't care if you're in love with someone else. Imagine you were in my place, Beca. Wouldn't you want any part of Chloe that you could have?"

"No," you snort. "No I wouldn't. I'm not that desperate, Jesse. I want Chloe, but more than that, I want Chloe to want me. Do you get it?"

"And what if she never wants you back?"

"Then I'll forget about her," you snipe, getting up and making towards the door. Anticipating your move, Jesse stands up to block your exit. "Move," you say, clipped and stubborn.

"And how's that going for you, Beca? Are you over her?" The answer is clear, shockingly clear to both of you. So the unspoken question lingers in the air.

What if you can't forget her?

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it enough to make it down this far. Leave a review if it should so suit you. Second part will be up in a few days.