I feel like everyone is gonna hate me for this. I am an avid Bechloe fan, but this just came into my head after listening to a song...pretty obviously what song it was since it is the title of the story. Anyway, this is just a short one shot whilst I'm kinda stuck on my other fics.
Disclaimer - I own nothing but the storyline.
It's been seven hours and fifteen days since she left. Beca never imagined that one person could just take away a piece of her heart like that. She never saw it coming.
After the breakup, most evenings she could have been found in the local bar, drinking herself into oblivion. She doesn't leave until the barman cuts her off, barely able to stand on her own two feet. Somehow she's made it home each night safely though, bar a few grazes and bruises from the occasional stumble. Home? She couldn't even call it that now. It didn't feel like home. Chloe was 'home' to her, but she's gone, so now the four walls that surround her just feel like a shelter for her belongings.
She hasn't slept a single night since Chloe left, usually finally collapsing onto the couch around six in the morning when her body and brain could no longer fight sleep. The bedroom is a no go area. It's almost unnerving for Beca to enter unless she really has to. The entire apartment is filled with memories, but the bedroom reflects the life they had made with each other. There is a wall filled with photos of the two of them, soppy selfies – where usually Chloe is kissing Beca's cheek whilst the brunette flashes the biggest grin. There are tickets from shows they have seen and posters from gigs pinned up.
The bed - their bed - where they shared the most intimate of times, is set in the middle of the room against the back wall. Beca doesn't think she will ever be able to sleep in that bed again. She knows that Chloe's pillow still smells of her. A mix of the redheads coconut shampoo and the sweet floral smell of her perfume. Beca knows it wont give her any comfort like it use to when she would snuggle up to it if Chloe was away for the weekend. Because Chloe hasn't just gone away to a spa for a girls weekend with Aubrey. She's gone. It's as simple as that.
She's skipped out on work every day since the break up. She didn't feel like she can give any decent input to literally anything right now. The only thoughts running through her brain were of the redhead.
Stacie had travelled to Los Angeles for a couple of days as soon as she heard about the breakup. She'd found Beca in a state of near unconsciousness from the alcohol level in her system and what she was convinced was definitely a vomit stain down her shirt. She held her while she cried. A state she had never seen Beca in before. The only time Beca would say more than one word was if Stacie did something that reminded her of something she knew Chloe wouldn't like. 'Chloe always puts the washer on a full cycle not short', or 'Chloe likes the shoes to go on the rack not next to it'. Her tone was almost light, no malice or hurt when she spoke about it, just simply stating a fact – almost like telling someone that you take sugar in your coffee.
Stacie had managed to coax her out of the apartment and to a diner. Beca had barely eaten in three days and although she really hadn't felt like eating, she knew that Stacie wouldn't ease up until she agreed to go with her. Leaving the apartment, even if only or an hour or so, was probably a good idea anyway. She picked at her food and barely answered the tall brunette when she spoke. Honestly, she hadn't heard a single word said to her over her own thoughts. Didn't even acknowledge Stacie was mid sentence when she blurted out, ''Chloe really likes the blueberry pancakes here''.
Sleeping on the couch – or lack of sleeping – the night that Stacie had had to return home for work the following day, Beca realised that she had never felt so lonely in her life before. Not even when her parents divorced. She remembers that time of her life like it was yesterday. Her father hadn't even said goodbye to her. Just left one weekend during the summer when she was staying at her grandmothers. She remembers feeling like she was to blame, that it was her fault he left because at the time she wasn't informed otherwise. Her mother tried her best to be there for her but she was battling her own thoughts and feelings. Beca knows that is exactly when she stopped talking about her feelings.
She welcomed the brief break from her thoughts of Chloe, even if it was just to think of another difficult phase of her life.
Yet, those thoughts didn't last long before they were back on Chloe. The one person who had managed to break down every single wall that Beca had built around herself. Brick by brick. She was patient and caring. She had wound her way into the brunettes life back in college in such a positive way that Beca couldn't help but let it happen. Chloe was sunshine and daisies, she was marshmallows and glitter and she didn't stop until it wore off onto Beca.
Now Beca knew that it was inevitable that she would fall back into old habits with Chloe gone. Because now she didn't have that shiny being to reflect into her soul. She was certain the sun would no longer glow the same shade and the birds would never sing the same tune. She couldn't register how long she had been crying but it had to have been some time because moments before falling asleep she noticed that the arm of the couch had a large wet patch. She didn't care though.
On a particularly bad day, Beca had succumbed to a bout of anger. Sadness had been replaced by a feeling of animosity over the whole situation. Photo frames were smashed, a mug with the letter 'C' thrown against the wall. Alcohol was consumed before midday and carried on into the late evening. To make matters worse, Beca had decided, in her inebriated state, to look at Chloe's instagram page. There had only been one update, a photo of the redhead with a slightly younger looking women, faces inches apart, arms around each others shoulders. Beca thought she recognised the blonde women, she seemed familiar but she couldn't quite place her. A deep growl escaped her throat as she read the caption; Super proud of this beautiful girl.
The worst decision Beca made that night was to skip out on her usual bar and travel to the nearest gay club. She will never know how she managed to act sober enough to be let in. She was drawn to a strawberry blonde women, slightly taller than her. Her eyes were blue like Chloe's but they didn't sparkle. There was some heavy making out, an invite to 'go somewhere more private'. And Beca almost took her up on it. Almost. It wasn't until, during another make out session, on the street outside the club, that Beca snapped out of it and pushed the women away, and ran off. No explanation. A one night stand or hookup would not make her feel better. Honestly, Beca didn't even think that anyone would ever compare to Chloe.
Once she felt far enough away, she slowed down to walk. She didn't have a destination in mind when she ran, but it seemed she had been on auto pilot, suddenly realising she was close to the entrance of the large park where she and Chloe had often gone for a long walk or a picnic during the warm weather months.
And she really didn't want to go back to the apartment yet. Instead choosing to enter the park and sitting on a bench to gather her thoughts. When she closed her eyes she could picture every time they'd been there together. A particular memory of the redhead getting overly excited that the flowers had bloomed into the biggest, brightest yellow flowers that she claimed to have ever seen. Chloe had made her google to try and find out what they were called. Apparently they'd have made a beautiful bouquet for their future wedding. Beca re-lives the wink Chloe shot over her shoulder after that comment with a small smile. They'd not even discussed an engagement, let alone a wedding, but Beca knew a long time ago that she wanted the redhead to be her wife. As the brunette opens her eyes she can see said flowers were now wilted and dying from the harsh frost the city was currently experiencing. Ironic really.
The days after were much the same. Drinking, crying, anger. A never ending cycle of various emotions that were taking a toll on the brunette.
In the last fifteen days she had almost re-lived their entire relationship to try and decipher where it all went wrong. What she did to cause Chloe to leave. There were petty little arguments here and there, but nothing she deemed plausible to cause Chloe to just up and leave with no real explanation. She had thus far refrained from reaching out to the redhead, scared that whatever she said would make things worse. But tonight she grabbed her phone from the coffee table and went into the contact list. Scrolling down to Chloe's contact, still under what Chloe herself had changed it to, she didn't quite have the bravery to call her, instead opting to text.
It's been seven hours and fifteen days since you took your love away.
Whatever I did to cause this, I am sorry. I just wish you could have
talked to me about it before it got to this point. I'm not sure how I
am meant to move on from this or how I am ever meant to love
anybody else but you. Nothing or nobody compares to you. X