A/N: Hello everyone! I decided to add to this lovely ship a story of my own. Let me know what you think!

It was late. The sun had long since slipped beneath the horizon. I sighed, a glance at the dashboard telling me all that I needed to know.

Its bold numbers glared an angry 11:38 at me. I glared back.

Work had been hell, as it had been at an infuriatingly increasing frequency over the past couple of months. The merger had put the entire business on its head. As much as I appreciated the new client flow and talent under our jurisdiction, I was also floundering while trying to complete the work of the three people that had been dropped and had yet to be replaced in the shuffling. I was a producer, I didn't get into the business to draft up contracts and crunch numbers yet that was how I had been spending my time lately.

It seemed that everything had a deadline and a deadline that was fast approaching. Coming to a halt at a stop light I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to press away the stress I knew was present there.

It was too much. I was being given too much to handle and it was slowly ripping the life from me. I couldn't even remember the last time that I had been in a studio and while my colleagues who also had survived the merger were great at what they do, I didn't want the people who were paying me to work on their album never actually get to work with me in person.

At first, I had adjusted schedules and crammed all my studio sessions into the miniscule gaps in my schedule. But it was too much.

Numbers and figures were dancing through my thoughts as I pulled into my driveway. An absentminded swipe at the remote clipped onto my visor opened the door to the garage in front of me. Putting the car in park, I slipped the keys from the ignition.

My phone buzzed from where it sat. I heaved a deep breath at the site of four new emails. I tapped in a familiar pattern to unlock my phone and read the headings of the emails. There were two from prospective clients' agents, the other two from our own financial office, the currently heavily understaffed financial office.

The icon below showed me that I also had missed calls. A couple from Jesse and one from Aubrey. I shook my head taking another look at the dash to see that time only continued to move onward. It was too late to call him back and I wasn't in the mood to talk to Aubrey who had been on a bridezilla rampage as of late. It was probably best to wait until tomorrow to return the calls.

I pushed my car door open hearing the rhythmic, beeping reminder that I had left my lights on. Switching them off easily, I side stepped the other car in the garage and moved swiftly toward the door on the opposite side of structure.

Slipping my shoes off, I set my bag near the door and placed my worn leather jacket on its rightful hook. It was silent save for the rustling of my own movements.

It was late. I was late. And not for the first time.

I cautiously entered the kitchen only to be met by darkness. Frowning, I flicked the switch on bathing the kitchen in light. The scent of garlic lingered in the air, my stomach growling loudly at the prospect. I gave it a halfhearted pat and acquiesced its request moving toward the double door fridge that you insisted would be "timeless while being simultaneously effective." I had agreed, not having much of an opinion on fridges but knowing you wanted me to at least pretend that I did.

When we had bought the house, we went into it knowing that the kitchen was outdated and in dire need of a remodel. As much as you denied it, I knew that you were excited about what it would entail. As it was, after we had inked the appropriate paperwork you had gleefully called Aubrey and the two of you set out solidifying a decent plan of attack in a mere week. You harassed me for input telling me that I should have a hand in the creative process so I did have to choose a color here and there but for the most part this kitchen was your project and your style only splashed occasionally by my own.

Inside the fridge, I found a Tupperware container filled with some sort of pasta. I peeled the lid back to find it was the culprit of the heavenly garlic smell that had loitered in the kitchen long after it had been cooked. A small container next to it held a mix of vegetables. I pulled the two out and walked over to grab a plate from its cupboard. Spooning out a portion I'm sure would be too large but for now looked appropriate, I set the plate in the microwave quickly pinning in a cook time on its screen.

Wandering back to the fridge, I placed both of the containers back in. I let the door slowly close on its own, coming face to face with the barrage of pictures that always littered the fridge.

My best friend's smiling face greeted me. The save the date for Aubrey and Jesse's upcoming wedding. My best friend had found happiness with yours and I couldn't stop the feeling that turned my lips up at the corners at the thought. They were great for each other and it was a marriage I knew wouldn't fail.

A picture of Fat Amy wrestling a crocodile stood out next to the professional announcement. It was an older photo, one that she had sent us because no one seemed to believe that she had actually spent her time in Tasmania doing such activities. I still wasn't sure why we doubted her, if there were anyone that seemed like they could be a crocodile wrestler, it would be her.

Slightly below that picture there was one from our last Bella reunion. Years later, we still looked like the biggest group of misfits ever and I wouldn't have it any other way.

A card from one of the kids in your class with the words "UR the bestest teacher ever" roughly written in crayon. The card had only supported my belief that texting shorthand would be the downfall of new generations' ability to spell. You rolled your eyes at me when I told you just that and pushed me lightly in the shoulder.

My fingers ghosted another picture on the door.

It had never mattered to me before. The fame, money, work, status, none of that had mattered to me. I once told you that all I needed was for you to look at me the way you were in this particular picture and that would be enough.

I let my finger trace the soft lines of your face, the soft smile that stretched your lips. Your gaze was fixed on my own and that was enough. I was struck by the simplicity of the picture. It wasn't captured by a professional, in fact the stranger we had asked to take the picture for us could hardly work the camera. He had pressed the button multiple times, his face scrunching up as he fought the technology in his hands. You laughed, content in that moment to be there with me and no one else.

The man apologized profusely for his lack of skill which we did our best to divert and thanked him for his help. He had captured a number of blurry pictures, one of his thumb, and the picture that currently hung on our fridge. It was a picture hardly posed at all, one of us caught in a moment between the others.

A sharp beep signaled the end of the cook time on the microwave. I pulled the plate from its confines and grabbed a fork from its drawer.

I ate quickly, knowing that no matter what time I got to bed I would still have to get out of it at the same time. And the time hardly mattered because both my body and my mind knew that whatever it was, it was not enough.

I rinsed my dish and placed it into the dishwasher, setting the full machine to run a cycle.

I tiptoed quietly up the stairs and into our room seeing your side occupied, your back turned toward what is my side. I pulled a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top from a drawer in the dresser and walked to the bathroom. Changing inside, I completed my nightly routine and pried the door open.

I ran a tired hand through my hair. The mattress dipped slightly as I crawled into bed beside you. Kicking my way into the blankets, I settled into my pillow.

It was your breathing that told me you were awake, but it was your back squared firmly in my direction and the rigidity of it all that told me you weren't going to greet me in any manner let alone talk to me.

You were angry. I couldn't even blame you for it. We hadn't seen much of each other lately and it was entirely my fault. When we did talk it normally ended in some sort of an argument, something that, once again, I couldn't help feeling was entirely my fault.

I fell into an uneasy sleep only to wake to the shrill sound of my alarm after what seemed more like minutes than the hours it actually had been. I swatted aimlessly toward my nightstand trying to locate the source of the noise. Finally my hand hit home and the noise ceased. I buried my face into my pillow, not ready to leave the warmth and security of the blankets just yet. Running a hand to my left I was met only with soft sheets, cold from the morning air that surrounded them.

It wasn't uncommon, not anymore, for me to wake up to an empty bed. It was probably some version of payback for me forcing you to fall asleep in one each night. But even this was early for you.

My alarm sounded again, too soon, and I slapped it quiet, again. I swung my feet to the ground. Allowing my elbows to rest upon my thighs, I let my head fall heavy into my hands. Rubbing at my surely bloodshot eyes, I made my way to the bathroom not entirely positive that I wanted to begin this day anew.

After showering and getting ready for the day I made my way downstairs. You stood with your back to me, spatula in hand, your focus on the contents of the pan in front of you. Had it been months ago I might have slid my hands around your waist and placed a hearty kiss to the neck your messy bun had left exposed.

But it wasn't months ago. It was today and today I walked warily to the fridge and pulled the milk from the side door.

You hardly looked up from the pan in front of you. Your gaze was fixed forward, your left thumb toying with the ring and band that adorned your aptly named ring finger. You looked tired, as though a thousand sleepless nights had plagued you. My stomach dropped as I realized that also was probably my fault.

I was fucking up. I was fucking everything up as my dad had done before me and as his dad before him. It was practically hereditary at this point. I shouldn't have been so surprised when I started following suit.

I grabbed a bowl and shook some cereal free from the box, pouring milk into it. As I took a seat at the raised bar, I found I wasn't hungry. I settled for pushing my cereal around, watching as what was once solid dissolved into pieces and irreparable parts.

You plated the omelet you had been crafting and after filling a coffee mug, took a seat beside me.

There was a time where silence was easy, comfortable. That time had passed and all that was left in its wake was an uneasiness that made my stomach churn.

I stared at the soggy mess in front of me wondering exactly how we had gotten here only to remember that it had been my doing. You had been supportive and reasonable and I had slowly turned into my father.

"Did you talk to Jesse?" Your voice startled me from my thoughts. It was raspy probably a product of the morning, yet it lacked its normal depth.

I kept my head down as I replied, "Um, not yet. I was going to today. He's probably just getting cold feet or something, I'm sure it's fine."

You snorted derisively beside me, my gaze shooting toward you. You had an undecipherable look on your face. I didn't know what to make of it. One eyebrow arched dangerously upward as you leveled me with a glare. Your eyes searched my face, for what? I wasn't sure.

"You honestly don't remember, do you?" Your voice was incredulous. I gave you a confused look prompting you to continue. "You weren't just busy, you completely forgot, didn't you?"

I wasn't sure what you were hinting at. My mind began whirring about trying to remember what it was that I had forgotten. Our anniversary wasn't for four or so months, your birthday was around half a year away or past depending how you looked at it, Jesse's birthday had passed a couple of months ago, and Aubrey's wasn't for months.

My lack of response only seemed to make you angrier. You stood, pushing your chair back with an angry screech, "You know what, I've put up with you coming home late, never when you tell me you're going to. I've put up with eating alone most nights and most mornings. I've let you blow me off for a couple of date nights here and there because I know this is your dream," her eyes narrowed, "But now you're telling me that you honestly don't remember what last night was to your best friend and that's just…"

She trailed off, anger welling up inside. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. "God, Beca! That's just…" She stomped from the room, angrily up the stairs leaving her sentence unfinished. I flinched as the door to what was probably our bedroom slammed shut.

I rushed to grab my phone from where it was charging. I pulled up my calendar. Tapping yesterday's date, I scrolled down finding two events where my phone had only alerted me of one. The top, given higher priority was a meeting with a couple members of our financial board.

The bottom, my best friend's engagement party. The party that you and I as maid of honor and best (wo)man had planned months ago, the party that I was supposed to be hosting, the party I was supposed to pick up the cake and the centerpieces for, the party I was supposed to give a speech at. I realized exactly what I had forgotten and slammed my fists down onto the counter, cursing.

I tossed my phone carelessly onto the counter as though it were somehow responsible for what had happened. I had meetings the whole morning but would have to cancel some of them. I needed to talk to Jesse, apologize to him. Taking the steps two at a time intent on grabbing a sweater for the chilly day, I was met by the closed door to our bedroom.

I paused outside of the door, the sound of your sobs on the other side halting my movements. I thought about going in, I thought about apologizing to you too but then I thought better of it. You wouldn't want to see me right now, I didn't want to see me right now. I reasoned that if I apologized to Jesse and consequently Aubrey I might be able to gain some footing with you.

So I turned from the door and walked back down the stairs. Grabbing my bag, coat, and keys I pressed call button by Jesse's name. Listening as the long tones continued, I got in my car and pulled out into the street realizing I would have a better shot at talking to him at his apartment.

I hoped that I would catch him before he left for the day. He was working on a small indie movie soundtrack. The studio wasn't far from the apartment he shared with Aubrey.

I called one of my colleagues telling him that I had an emergency I needed to take care of and asking if he could cover for me. He agreed to sit in on one of the meetings and push back another for me. I thanked him profusely and settled back in for the drive.

It was a short fifteen minute drive considering I was early enough to dodge most of the traffic that normally clogged the roads up.

My phone rang alerting me of a call. I ignored it, letting it go to voicemail. I made my way up to their apartment and knocked on the door. It was several moments later that the door swung open revealing a cross looking Aubrey Posen. I was instantly reminded of my freshmen year on the Bellas, but this… this was so much worse. I don't think that I have ever been more afraid of her than I was in in this moment. Her eye twitched once before she slammed the door shut in my face.

I blinked. Twice. This was going well. Sighing, I raised my arm to knock again, only for the door to be opened before I had the chance.

I relaxed when I noticed it wasn't Aubrey this time, but Jesse with a serious case of bed head, still in his pajamas. His face was neutral as he looked down at me. I would almost take Aubrey's stink-eye over this lack of expression. I couldn't tell if he was angry, disappointed, or still half-asleep.

"Jesse," I started knowing I probably should have come prepared with some sort of game plan instead of winging it like I was now. "I am so, so sorry. My phone automatically prioritized the events on my phone and it backburner-ed everything for yesterday for some financial board meeting. I didn't even- I mean I know it's- I wouldn't blame you if you-"

"Beca," he cut me off, his voice taking on the same quality as yours had this morning. "You're my best friend." He said simply and I wasn't positive what he meant by it. "You're my best friend and I know how important your job is to you, but…" He took a heavy breath, his shoulders scrunching as he did so. That was an action I could read.

He had never been an angry person, he was calm, he was so calm he was practically Buddha. He didn't yell, he never shouted, he hated conflict. When he got angry, he got calm. It was unnerving especially considering how even his words were as he continued.

"I'm gonna say this one time and then you're going to leave because my fiancé will probably kill you if you stay here any longer and I don't have time to clean that shit up." I looked past him to see Aubrey glaring in my general direction as she violently ate a bowl of cereal. "It's not just your phone prioritizing for you..."

"Jesse-" I tried to interrupt him only for him to raise a single hand and close his eyes before taking another breath. My phone rang again. I swiped angrily to dismiss the call. Jesse shook his head at me.

"You need to decide what's more important in your life and if you don't do that soon, things will get a lot easier when some parts of that equation remove themselves. You're my best friend Beca, but you can't keep doing this. It's not fair to me, it's not fair to you, and it's certainly not fair to your wife."

His words washed over me, ice water flowing through my veins as he smiled sadly at me before closing the door.

It clicked in its frame. I blinked at its surface for the second time that day. After several more moments I realized it wasn't going to be reopened.

My phone rang a third time. It was work. I dismissed it with a swipe of my thumb again. With one last backwards glance at the shut door, I began to make my way to my car.

I walked towards my car in the lot. Then my feet carried me past it. My feet carried me ten then twenty then thirty feet away until I found myself walking along a path. Aubrey and Jesse had picked the neighborhood because of its proximity to Jesse's studio and also because it was close to the practice Aubrey was working towards partner at. It was also incredibly close to the beach that I was walking alongside a mere fifteen minutes later.

I didn't know where I was going. I had no clue what I was doing. I walked steadily along, my feet finding the cold sand after several minutes on the path. I kicked along, displacing sand, and shells as I gravitated toward the water front.

I had always loved the ocean. A lot of people loved the ocean for its picturesque views, but I had always loved it for the things that were below its surface value. The water with its constant waves and changing tides, the salty smell that filled the air.

My best friend was disappointed in me, my wife's best friend wanted to, in some capacity, murder me, and you could hardly look at me.

I didn't want to be my dad. I didn't want to turn into some lonely, bitter shell that pushed everyone who cares about them away. I didn't want to turn into some workaholic who sacrifices their family for success. I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn't be that person. Yet here I was, holding everyone at arm's length as I selfishly pursued a career that I wanted.

I let out a bitter laugh when I thought about the fact that I wasn't even producing music again, I had somehow become an accountant, my own secretary, and some form of paralegal.

My phone's shrill ring filled the placid air.

Todd Beckman

My boss. Without another thought, I tossed it into the rolling waves, hearing the resounding kerplunk as it broke the water's surface. My fleeting thoughts telling me that I would probably be regretting that later, but for now it felt oddly satisfying as though the phone had been an iron ball chained to my ankle, only there to hold me down.

I smiled at the reprieve, at the weight that seemed to slide right off my shoulders. I felt happy, I felt free.

I took my time along the way back, enjoying the way it felt to not worry about what I was missing or what I had to get done before the end of the day.

My good mood continued as I drove home, not lucky enough to miss the traffic this time. Even that wasn't enough to wipe the smile off my face. I had made a decision and I knew without any semblance of doubt that it was the correct one.

I passed the exit for work and found myself in the grocery store parking lot. I shopped quickly, knowing what I needed to make your favorite meal. I dropped the bagged groceries into the trunk and made a quick stop to pick up your favorite chocolate dipped strawberries.

When we were still in the friendship stage of our relationship you had told me that you hated receiving flowers. "All they do is look pretty for two days and then they wither and die. I'd take something edible over some worthless flowers any day. At least I'd get something more than dead flowers out of it." When we finally progressed past that stage I had made it a point to never buy you flowers.

Jesse told me that whenever he wanted to do something special for Aubrey he would get her a single lily. I thought it was cheesy as hell yet I still spent the time, after some trial and error, to find that chocolate dipped strawberries to you were the equivalent of lilies to Aubrey.

I found myself humming through the errands. I couldn't remember the last time I had even sang along to the radio and now I was humming. I couldn't help it. The little voice in the back of my head kept screaming that I was being irrational and that this was a bad idea, but my mind was already made up. And I was going to make you dinner and explain my new plan to you.

You had always been so supportive of me and my dreams. I, in turn, had practically filled out applications for you including the one that eventually landed you your current job. You were worried it wouldn't pay enough, I was worried you would stick yourself in a place where you didn't even enjoy what you were doing just to pay the bills. Your school wasn't in the best neighborhood and could hardly pay for new books every five years let alone keep up with salary inflation for their teachers.

I assured you that we were financially stable enough for you take the job. I knew it would make you happy and even if that meant I would have to put in longer hours I was okay with it. My job did pay incredibly well and that thought was probably fueling the little voice to speak louder. Financially, I knew we could keep our heads above the water for at least eight months before running into trouble.

My thoughts churned on as I pulled into our neighborhood.

It was midday now and I knew that I would have plenty of time to prepare dinner before you came home from work.

Except you weren't at work. The garage opened to reveal your car still in park. Odd.

I pulled the bags from the trunk and placed them on the counter inside of the kitchen.

"Chloe?" I called out, an uneasy feeling building in my stomach. I checked the living room and made my way carefully up the stairs.

Our bedroom door was propped open. I took one step inside the archway, my feet stopping as I noticed what you were standing over. Your back was to me, yet again, but that wasn't what had grabbed my attention. What had grabbed my attention was the large suitcase propped up beside our bed, its smaller partner being packed tidily by your hands.

I leaned my weight on my back foot causing a floorboard to creak loudly, announcing my presence.

"I think this is the last of it," you breathed out.

The last of what? I wanted to ask but one look at the closet and I realized it was the last of your things.

I watched your shoulders hunch over the bag in front of you as you zipped it shut. "Tell me I'm doing the right thing Aubrey, I just need to know I'm doing the right thing."

You were leaving. My mind grappled for any semblance of control as it finally caught up and processed the situation. You were leaving me.

"I just don't know what else to-" You cut off sharply as you turned toward me, your eyes widening when you realized it wasn't your best friend that you had been talking to. "Beca," you exclaimed, surprise in your voice.

I couldn't look you in the eye, instead my focus was on my nightstand to the picture in the frame there. Our wedding picture.

"You're supposed to be at work." You stated. "Why aren't you at work?" Your voice rose in pitch as you spoke. You were anxious. You probably had been expecting to make a clean exit and be gone before I was even home. My stomach twisted painfully at the thought that you were going to leave without so much as a word.

But I deserved that, I reasoned, I deserved this heartache for all the heartache I had caused over the past months.

"I um, I came to tell you something," I stuttered out, my eyes firmly on our smiling faces in the picture. I swallowed once, trying to press down whatever was building inside of me.

"I didn't- You weren't supposed to be home," your voice cracked on the words causing me to finally look at you. Your eyes were puffy, red, and rimmed with tears. Your voice was scratchy as though you had been crying all day and maybe you had. My eyes flickered down to the suitcases and yours followed.

"I just… Beca, I can't. I can't," you paused, emotions catching in your throat, "I can't do this. I can't stay here and keep feeling sorry for myself. We haven't been right and I know you'll say it's just because of the merger and maybe that is part of it but it's been months, months since we've had a decent conversation about something deeper than the weather forecast. And you," you gave a gesture to where I stood, "you've never been a selfish person. Even before you let anyone inside those walls you spent so much time constructing, you were never selfish, but now it's…"

Your thumb was turning your ring rapidly round your finger. "It's like you're not even you. The Beca I loved didn't ditch her best friend on the night of his engagement party, the Beca I loved would call when she was going to be late, the Beca I loved didn't spend all of her time at work and she never brought her work home, the Beca I loved was here, she was actually here."

But you had already said enough. Loved. You had said loved, not love and it was like a punch to my gut.

"And I just can't stay here. I just can't watch you run yourself into the ground. And I can't live here with somebody that I used to know. I need a break. To figure this out. I just need some time, I need some time to be happy again because as much as I know you're not this person I know that neither am I. I am not the person that cries themselves to sleep and spends most of their day waiting for it to be over. That's not me," you finished your winding speech having gained some steam near the end of it and I knew this wasn't the first time that you had spoken the words. I imagined you practicing them in front of the mirror as I often caught you practicing presentations when we were in college.

"I'm going to stay with Aubrey for a while," you lugged the small suitcase off the bed and picked up the larger. "It's- I've-" You started and stopped several sentences.

"Hey, I saw…" Aubrey entered the room, her eyes narrowing at my presence. "Beca's car," she spat out looking at me as though I were something stuck on her shoe. "You okay?" She directed the question at you.

"Yeah, could you just take these last ones down for me? I'll be down in a second," you said, not taking your eyes off me. I felt Aubrey burning holes in the side of my head while she collected the luggage. I ignored it.

This was it. That moment everyone always talked about. The make or break moment.

"So, I guess… that's it," you said solidly. Then with one final turn around your finger you slid your ring and band from your finger. I watched as you held them in the palm of your hand. You then held that hand out to me.

I shook my head, "keep them," I mumbled not trusting my voice to produce any more words.

You nodded, pocketing them before looking around the room in one last sweeping survey of it. Your actions had a sense of finality about them that I couldn't ignore. You were done.

Your path out the door took you right past me. You stopped just outside the frame. I didn't need to turn to know that you had. "Beca?" I willed myself to turn but knew I wouldn't survive watching you walk away. I hummed a response instead, letting you know that I had heard. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself? Please." I nodded my head minutely. And then you were gone.

I love you.

I wanted to say.

Don't leave.

I wanted to scream.

Please don't leave.

But it was that time. Make or break time and I had already broken it all. It didn't matter what I wanted or what I needed. I had lost that right the day I started neglecting our relationship.

I stepped closer to the bed in the center of the room. My knees gave way as I collapsed onto the carpet of our bedroom wanting to chase after you, but wanting you to be happy above all. I reached up blindly knocking the frame that rest on the end table over in my search. I cradled it to my chest, clinging to if it were my lifeline.

It was too late. I was too late. And not for the first time.

A/N: So? What'd you think? I love any and all feedback so please don't hesitate to leave a little love in the box below.

I know there were a lot of loose ends here which is why we are looking at a two shot for sure maybe three chapters, still haven't decided. I'm not sure what how long it's gonna be for the next update but I'll do my best not to leave you hanging. For the record, I do ship Bechloe so keep that in mind…