I own nothing. Just a little bit idea. Thanks for reading.

And btw, this is the revised version. Thanks for the previous review.

You were right.

After all this time, I admit, you were right. Still are.

I opened my eyes this morning, and I'm not only disappointed. I'm devastated, reaching out to the cold empty side of our bed.

Correction, my bed, your side. Was your side.

It was only a dream. I thought I heard your footsteps on my stairs last night. And I thought I'd wake up with your arms wrapped around me from behind. In your warm embrace that I longed.

Maybe it was my own heartbeat.

It's been six months, Becs. And I've missed you like crazy. What I'd give just to have you kissing my shoulder and telling me that you love me. Every time you did that, it felt like the time stood still. And it was only us. You and I.

But instead of having you on the bed with me, I'm drowned in the memory of us.

Correction, my memory, about us, when I had you. Had.

The first time I saw you by the activities fair back in college, and it wasn't the last.

The first time I saw you naked in the bathroom, and still, it wasn't the last.

The first time I leaned so close, I almost couldn't help myself to kiss you on that initiation night, but I didn't. I got my chances though. So many chances. And God, did you take advantage of those chances.

The first time I finally kissed you after we won our first ICCA together, and both weren't the last.

The first time we fought because I had intentionally failed my Russian Lit, again, for the second time. I told you I was staying for The Bellas, but you saw through me.

I remember you yelled angrily at me for the first time ever, "I don't want to be the main reason of you sabotaging your life, Chlo!"

We didn't talk for a week, until you came back to me, waiting under the heavy rain with a bouquet of my favorite flower. Well, my ruined-by-the-rain favorite flower. I let you waited for almost three hours, but you didn't budge until I came to see you.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked coldly with my arms crossing on my chest.

At first, you said nothing but giving me a shrug.

"You hated movies and all the clichés about love, especially the happy ending part in it." I said, knowing clearly that you knew how much I loved, correction, still do, the kissing under the rain scene.

"But you love it." You replied shyly with your hands in your damp jeans pocket, trying so hard yet failing to be nonchalant. You couldn't bring yourself to look me in the eyes, but your voice was clear when you added, "And I love you."

Correction, loved.

I still remember how warm your wet lips on mine though. Your breath was even warmer when you whispered I'm sorry against my lips. I remember how it tasted like, as if it happened yesterday.

No. Hold it. As if it happened a minute ago. Even after all these years. But sadly, it wasn't our last fight either.

We had so many fights in the ten years we were together. Were. Not have been. But were. And every single time, you always found the most cliché way to apologize, from any movie that I loved, which means one hell loads of classic movies.

Always with the same fond eyes. Your reason never changed even after years. You said you did it because you love me.

Correction, loved.

But somewhere along the way, the kiss changed. It isn't as warm as the first one.

And it isn't all on you. I know. And people change. I also know that. It happened. To most people at least. To you. To me.

Remember it when your hand was always in mine? And my head leaned on your shoulder?

"How can you two become the most perfect couple?" Stacie asked in comic surprise without trying to hide the hint of envy.

"Yeah. The bubbly beauty, with the grumpy beast." Fat Amy added jokingly.

"Nothing..." CR said with a teasing laughter. "Nothing like this ever happened to us. Ever. But you two. How?"

The same questions, well, more or less, were always thrown at us in every reunion. Correction, not every, but six reunions. And over group chat-room we had with our sisters. The Bellas.

We only responded with smiles. My beaming smile faltered over the years, and your goofy grin had changed into a tight smile somewhere that I didn't even notice where or when it started to change.

And again, it isn't entirely your fault.

I was so busy of being in love with you. Well, I thought so. I was too immersed to be with you. I'm drowning myself in you. And then, I just forgot. I forgot who I really was. I forgot what I really wanted. I forgot things I dreamed to achieve. I forgot to live my life for myself.

I thought having you would be enough. And honestly, it was enough.

Correction, it still is.

But then, just as the more I lost myself, the more frequent our fights became. The things you said to me in anger back in college became a reality. You felt like you are the major reason why I didn't become who I was destined to be. To be who I wanted to be.

It made you feel as though being loved by you had dimmed the light of Chloe Beale. The light that you once thought was un-dimmed-able. You felt like you failed me, by loving me, and by letting me loving you. And the worst part is, I let you believe that.

I've wanted nothing but to tell you that you were wrong, right there and right then. You didn't fail me. I failed me. And I failed you.

Yet I didn't. Tell you.

"Careful, Chloe." Aubrey warned me softly. "You're now living in a land called passive-aggresiva. And you have become the queen."

Although I knew she was right, I just brushed her off.

But you stay though.

Correction, stayed.

You were flying above the weather. Your career was skyrocketing. You achieved one single dream you have always been striving for. While on the other hand, I turned out to be the insecure and unsuccessful girlfriend. Well, in my defense, I've always been insecure. And you know it.

And the fights never ended. There were always any reasons for me to pick up a fight with you. You, working with an attractive artist. You, going overseas for your concerts and tours. You, getting so much attention from the ladies around you. You, forgetting to do the grocery shopping. You, buying the wrong brand of my favorite milk. You, coming home ten minutes late. Just anything that I could use as a reason to be angry at.

You tried though. Hard. You did. I know.

You did every single cliché lovey dovey stuff you hated the most. For me. Just so you could melt a little bit of my icy cold shoulder I always gave you in the past couple of years.

"Because you love it." You said. "And I love you."

Still the very same words. And damn it, did it feed my ego and selfishness. I thought you'd always stay, Becs. And honestly, I still do.

But God, had I ever been more wrong.

I crossed the line. I know.

It was a cheap lie the media cooked up. I know that. You'd never cheat on my. I know that too. But it was a perfect bait to pick up another fight, just to have you standing under the rain and apologizing to me. Again.

Selfish. I also know that. Crystal clear.

"You're just like your father, Becs!" I yelled at you, at your office, in front of your colleagues. "A cheater and a liar!"

You were stunned, indeed. Froze up, no doubt. Taken aback, definitely. You didn't say anything though. You simply took a deep breath and apologized to your colleagues before you asked them to leave us alone. Politely.

You let me poured out my anger, my frustrations, yelling, snapping, and screaming at the top of my lungs. You just sat there, in front of me, staring blankly with unreadable expression. Until I was out of breath. Until I finally realized how stupid I acted.

Then you took another deep breath, put on the best smile you could muster, before you calmly said, "I'm sorry. Let's go home."

And we went home. But I wanted a fight. I wanted you to beg me to forgive you. I wanted you to show just how much you needed and loved me. It was the insecurities talking. I know. But I did it anyway.

We hadn't even reached the front door yet. We were standing on the front porch, just a couple of steps from the door. But the roaring anger in my chest couldn't wait.

So I turned around and yelled, "How could you do this to me?!"

You remained silent, but I could see that you were on your last straw. Still, you put on a tight smile and calmly said, "I'm sorry."

That wasn't what I wanted. I wanted you to fight back. I wanted you to yell back at me. I wanted you to be furious. You should be furious. If you care, then you'd be. It's always been like that in any romance movie. We need to reach rock bottom so we can raise up. Together. With a grand gesture from the lead actor to the lead actress.

It's called a drama for a reason. That was my rationalisation.

So I raised my hand, pulled it back, and swung it as hard as I might across your cheek.

The cracking sound was deafening.

I could feel the impact, vibrating to the tips of my fingers. If it hurt so badly on my palm, I could only imagine how bad it was on your cheek.

Still, you didn't budge. You swallowed hard and blew out a long ragged breath. And again, you put on the same tight smile and said, "I'm sorry."

I couldn't take it anymore. So I stomped my feet into the house and slammed it hard before you.

That was before I realized how huge the mistake I've made.

A month rolled away, you hadn't called or did anything to reach out to me. It was the longest period ever for you to not coming back to me. Usually, it would only take a week the most, for you to crawling back to me, apologizing to me. And God, was I terrified. Yet my ego got the best out of me.

When I came back from work that evening and you were home, I thought you wanted to say that you're sorry. But again, I was so wrong. You came to pick up your stuff.

I chased you down the street when you loaded your last box.

"Becs?" I asked in fear... horrified... terrified... dreading...

"I can't do this anymore, Chlo." You said without any trace of anger. You just seemed... defeated.

This time, I was the one who were stunned, froze up, taken aback. You were calm. You've changed. From the temperamental teenager, to a calm and collected adult. I could see that. Hell, the whole world could see that.

"I've been patient." You said with a sad smile. "I have. Because I love you. But apparently, love alone isn't enough. Love can't change anything. At least for me and you."

My senses came back to do its duty. All of my being was aching. I was shaking, sobbing, pleading, "I'm sorry, Becs. I didn't mean it. Forget what I said. In fact, forget what I've done wrong to you. I take it back. I take it all back. I'm so, so, sorry Babe..."

With tears in your eyes, you caressed my cheek and said with restraint voice, "It's not that easy, Chlo... I wished it was..."

Then you kissed my forehead and walked away. From our house.

Correction, my house now.

Leaving me alone. Falling on my knees. Curling on the front porch floor. Crying my eyes out.

I didn't know for how long, but eventually Emily came with Aubrey and Stacie. You were the one who called them and told them about us. You told them to stay with me. They picked me up and brought me into our bedroom.

Correction, my bedroom now.

When I was finally calm enough, I realized that all of your stuff were gone. And I burst in tears. Again.

Six months passed in a blink of an eye, yet painstakingly slow for me. And like I said in the beginning, I'm still missing you like crazy. It's much harder today, because we'll meet again for the first time. Yeah. On Bella's annual reunion.

I'm getting ready, and my stupid mind trails its way back back to two weeks ago. To the time when Aubrey, Stacie, and Emily had given me a precaution.

"She's living her life out there." Aubrey started cautiously. "You should to."

"She's found someone somewhere." Emily added with a sympathetic smile. "We read it in a media."

"She's moving on, Chloe." Stacie said with a cringe that I did't realize matching mine. Not until I noticed the suffocating lump that tried to tear up my throat and lungs.

"But I'm still waiting for her." I breathed out with shaky voice. "I've been waiting."

They simply shook their heads dejectedly before Aubrey wrapped me in a hug. That was when I realized that I was sobbing uncontrollably. The pain was unbearable. I just wanted to be free from all of this hurt. Of losing you. Of losing your love. Of letting go the best thing that ever happened in my life.

I called you that night.

"Come back, Becs." I cried. "Come back to me now. Please..."

There were no response from you on the other side, but your ragged breaths let me know that you were there, listening, silently.

"We can go back." I pleaded through tears. "We can be the Beca and Chloe like in college. To the way it was before. I want to. Please Becs..."

Still, you remained silent, but I could hear you sniffling softly.

"We can work this out Becs..." I pleaded more. It was so painful to speak with my shrinking lungs. But I'd do it, because it was nothing compared to the pain of losing you. Nothing.

"Just like you always stood under the heavy rain in front of my door." I begged profusely. "You'd say you're sorry. Then I'd kiss you. And we would be okay."

"This isn't a movie, Chlo." You finally spoke up with restraint voice in barely a whisper, and then you ended the phone call.

It was painful. No. Hold that. Painful wasn't suffice to convey this feeling. And I didn't know what were. I didn't sleep at all that night. I couldn't sleep to be honest. It felt unreal for me. Us breaking up wasn't something I had ever imagined. But if it was unreal, how could it be so hurting?

Now here I am, on our reunion day. The only last thing that I can still label as ours. I'm already dressed up in your favorite white dress that you said make my eyes even bluer than it already has and brighten up my radiant red hair.

After making up my mind, I go to the karaoke bar where the reunion will be held. Our sisters are already there when I arrive. I can see and feel that they are tip toeing around me, testing the water about how I've been feeling.

I fake a smile though. But I have to be honest with you Becs. The possibility of seeing you again excites me. But seeing you with someone else? Not so much.

But I want to see you.

Hold it. No. I have to see you.

No. Scratch that again. I need to see you.

I don't know if I should be relieved or disappointed when you don't show up by the end of the reunion. We tried to call you. Several times. Texted you. Hundreds of time. But we heard nothing.

Just before we're going our separate ways, there is a phone call. Unknown number. And I pick up hurriedly, couldn't help but hoping that it's you.

"I'm Officer Bartholomew." I hear a low heavy male voice from the other side. "Is this Chloe Beale?"

"Yes." I answer.

"I'm calling for Beca Mitchell." The man says. "It's said in her medical records that you are her emergency contact. Is that true?"

My heart is thumping hard as if it wants to break my ribs. I'm certainly uncertain if I want to know the intention of the call. Nevertheless, I reply in barely a whisper, "Yes..."

"Ma'am..." He says with cautious tone. "We need you to come to Cedars-Sinai. Miss Mitchell was in an accident. She's in a surgery right now."

The wind is knocked out from my lungs and I'm weak on my knees. Aubrey immediately catches me and holds me up. Stacie helps her in an instant.

"Chloe!" I hear Aubrey calls out worriedly. "What's wrong?"

I want to speak out, but I can't. My lungs must have shrunken. I cough out the lump harshly and still, the only words that I can finally breathe out are, "Beca... Accident... Cedars-Sinai..."

They get it though. And we rush to the hospital like crazy. Yet it's still not fast enough. We're running to the ER, and when I arrive at the nurse station, I say, "Chloe... for Beca Mitchell."

I can see the nurse's sad eyes when she tells me, "Just sit in the waiting room. The doctor will see you in a moment."

Somehow I know, Becs. From the way that nurse is looking at me. I know. Like I always did. I know. But just like I've always done too, I brush it off.

We walk. No. We pace to the waiting room. We haven't even taken a seat yet when a male doctor calls out, "Beca Mitchell."

And God, do I run to him.

"Family of Beca Mitchell?" He asks.

I simply nod.

"I'm Doctor Steven." He takes a deep breath and says, "I'm so sorry Miss. We did everything we could."

And right here right now, I drop on my knees. I can hear the doctor is saying something, and our friends are crying and sobbing. But it all seems to be coming from a very far place. It comes as an echo for me.

My life. No. My universe is crumbling down right in front of me. And the only thing that I can always count on, that I can always hold on to, is gone. You. Are gone.

Then someone drags me to the chair. I don't know who it is. But I comply. I've been crying for a while. For God knows how long. You're gone.

Is it real? As real as our break-up? I don't know. No. Scratch that. I do know. But I don't want to. I want to go back. To the way it was. To the time when I knew how much I'd lose by letting you go, by yelling at you, by locking you out. I supposed to know that. I should know that. I should have, known better.

Somehow, I don't know how, my tears subside. I didn't think it would. But yeah, eventually my tears subside.

In front of my eyes, where I'm bending forward on my seat, I see a pair of shoes that belong to someone's feet. I look up, hoping that it's you. Really, I do. But it's CR, holding a plastic bag.

"It's hers, Chloe." CR says sadly as she hands me the bag. "The nurse asked me to give it to you."

I take it. Absentmindedly. Automatically. I hold it on my laps, afraid of checking it, for... maybe a couple of minutes. But it sure feels like a life time, Becs.

Eventually, I open it and take out your jacket. Your leather jacket. Your badly ripped out leather jacket. Your badly ripped out and bloody jacket. I swallow hard and hold it under my nose, trying to catch a faint of your scent.

It's there. Barely. But it's there. Combined with the smell of blood, dust, and somehow burnt scent.

I hold it close onto my chest, pressing it hard in wistful thinking that it's you I'm holding dearly.

I feel something hard is pressing onto my chest. I check it curiously. And I'm stunned.

No. Hold it. I'm shocked into my core. And so it seems with our friends. Because I can hear their gasping and hitched breaths.

I know what it is. I know Becs. But I open it nevertheless. With my shaking and trembling hands. I open it. And there it is. A ring. Not just any ring. It's the crimson flame. A big ruby surrounded by smaller blue diamonds. It's beautiful.

So beautiful.

And believe me. I know Becs. It's for me. Most definitely. I frantically search the other pockets in your jacket with my stupid shaking hands. And I find something. In the left chest pocket. A note. Just a note.

My lips are trembling. I bite it hard. So hard that I can taste some kind of coppery taste on my tongue. My hands are shaking uncontrollably, trying so hard to do the one simplest task I've always done in daily life. Unfolding a piece of paper.

It's your handwriting, indeed. I'd know it in a heartbeat. It's your familiar messy scrabbling. I can read it, I suppose. I always can. Because it's yours. And you write so many notes and lyrics for me in the last ten years.

Correction, wrote.

I swallow hard. I want it really bad to read it on my own. But my eyes are getting blurry Becs. I can see it. But I can't read your familiar handwriting. So I give it to somebody who is sitting next to me.

"Chloe?" I finally know that it's Emily. Our aca-child.

"Read it." I push through my lacerated throat. "For me."

I can hear Emily's breath hitches for a second, but I don't look at her. I just keep leaning forward with my elbows on my thighs and my face in my palms.

Then Emily starts reading it with shaky breath, "Dear Chloe... I know that what we have is certainly not everything that you've always wanted. It's nothing like in those cheesy movies with the unrealistic and predictable happy ending you love the most. Believe me... I know. I don't believe in those craps, Chlo. Ever. But you love it. And you do believe it. So I'd like to try. Again. To give it a chance. To give us a chance. Because I love you. And I'm not perfect. Again, I know that. But let me try. Let's try to have our own happy ending. Together... Marry me, Chlo. Marry me and prove me that I'm wrong. And with you, I really wish that I'm wrong for not believing those crappy predictable happy ending."

And I'm sobbing so hard and shaking uncontrollably. Hysterically even. I can feel someone's hand on my back, rubbing up and down, trying to soothe me. But I don't think it's working. Because I don't feel any consolation. Everything hurts, Becs. And apparently, it's not the end.

I think Emily needed to take a breath just a second ago, because now she continues, "Ps. I'm not good with words, Chlo. That's why I could only say I'm sorry. Over and over again. So please don't be mad if I do the proposal through a handwriting. This isn't something you want. I know. Or something cheesy from any movie. Indeed. This is just me, loving you in my way. I hope you know that it doesn't mean I don't love you enough. I hope. Because I do. Love you. Always. So... Chloe Elizabeth Beale... Will you marry me? Pps. Please say yes. Ppps. Just so you know, I do prepare a boom box as my back up plan. I'll hold it all night long under our window. With Just The Way You Are, playing in repeat, loudly that our neighbors will have to call the police if you don't say yes. You know, just in case this note isn't enough. Pppps. I love you. Always."

I feel like I don't have lungs and heart anymore.

No. Hold it. I have them. But someone just ripped them out of my chest and left it opened. Too painful, Becs. Too agonizing. Then everything goes black.

My eyes feel so heavy. Well, in fact everything feels heavy. But I try to open my eyes nevertheless.

"Chloe." I can hear Aubrey calls me, and she sounded worried.

"Uhm..." I respond, still trying to lift my eyelids.

"Oh God. You're awake." I hear her relieved voice somehow shaky and hoarse. I think she's crying.

No. Hold it. I know she's crying.

Finally, my eyes flutter opened. Finally.

"Bree..." I croak out.

"Here." Aubrey holds a glass of water in front of my mouth. "Drink this."

I comply. I drink. My throat is killing me. And I'm wondering why. And the reality hits me again. You're gone Becs.

You. Are. Gone.

Forever.

I don't really remember how I lived and got through the next few days. I remember I cried a lot though. And nothing else mattered. And suddenly, I'm at your funeral. Well, not a funeral exactly. It's just us, your sisters, The Bellas, and Jesse, and Benji, and Bumper. Sending you off.

Standing with your urn in my hands, I remember it now in a blur. One night, and I think it was around two years into our relationship. You were a junior, and I was a senior. Again. For the third time. I don't remember exactly why we talked about it. About death. And being dead.

We just had an intense lovemaking. And I was lying half on top of you with my cheek on your chest. Naked. Sweaty. Satisfied. Both of us.

I was rubbing your left chest gently, and you were trailing your fingernails on my back.

"I think it'll be cool if my ashes being spread at the sea. You know, after I die." You said nonchalantly. Not even sounded sad or nervous. It was as if you just told me that you want taco for dinner.

I remember I rolled my eyes though. And I said, "Can we not talk about something so desperate after making love?"

And you chuckled, Becs. I remember it. You chuckled before you said, "I will. After you promise to do what I said if I ever go before you."

"Becs!" I scolded and slapped your chest playfully. Well, now that I think about it, maybe the slap was a little bit harder than I had thought.

"It's just a stupid request, Chlo." You said with an eye rolling. "Just say yes. And we won't have this kind of conversation again."

"Fine." I bit harshly with a pout. "Yes."

Then you pulled up. Away from me. But only to kiss me. To kiss my pout away. And I smiled onto your lips. And then we had another lovemaking session. And that activity, I remember it vividly.

So... here we are. On a yacht that somehow Bumper managed to borrow from his friend. In the middle of the ocean. It's sunset Becs. Your favorite time of the day. I can't even remember how many times we enjoyed staring at sunset. Just the two of us. But that was before. And never again. After this one at least.

It's truly beautiful. I think you're going to love it, Becs. Really. The sky is half-purple half-orange. It's breath-taking-ly beautiful.

I know... I know... The only thing that is breath-taking-ly beautiful for you is me. But really. This is... I think this is the best scenery and the best time to put you to rest. And the best part is that, it rains Becs. Not a heavy one. But still, it rains nevertheless.

I close my eyes, feeling the wind blowing on my hair and the rain on my face, on my cheeks, on my exposed skin. There's this warm rush, filling in my chest. It makes me shivering, Becs. I don't know if it's a good feeling or not. I just feel it that way. I don't know how to describe it properly, let alone to name it. So don't ask.

It's a feeling you get in a moment like this. You know what I mean right? I'll just assume you do. Slowly and automatically, my mind plays out our story in the back of my eyelids. I know that it will be imprinted, forever, in my life, in my mind.

From the beginning Becs. From the very beginning through everything. Until we end up here. I let it all plays out. I don't fight it. Not anymore. It still hurts like hell. Maybe more. Definitely more. But I let every cells in my body feel it. Yet somehow it brings a soft smile on my face.

And your face, close-up, appears on my mind. Your smile. Your smirk. Your goofy grin. Your crunchy laughter. Your scoff. Your frown. Your scowl. Your smug cocky grin. Your childlike stubborn look where you pressed your lips tightly whenever you were upset. Your eyes. God, those pair of steely blue eyes.

God, I miss you Becs. I really, really, really, really miss you. And even saying it seems like an understatement. I understand now why finding the right word wasn't so easy for you. Sometimes, words are just not enough. Words fail us. Like right now.

So... It brings me back to the day on our reunion when I woke up missing having you wrapping me in your warm embrace.

The first thought that came into my mind was that you were right.

This certainly isn't a movie, Becs. And it's certainly not the kind of ending we'd like to see. Because if this was a movie, then you'd be here by now. Next to me. And we'd be kissing under the rain. Your warm and wet lips on mine. Just like I remember it. Just like years ago. When we were in love.

Correction, are in love.

In my mind, we are still in love Becs. And yes. If this was a movie, you'd be here, then I'd say to you a million times yes, Becs. Always.

"Chloe...?" I hear Aubrey calls me softly.

I open my eyes. And without saying any word, I grab a fistful of your ashes and hand the urn to Aubrey. We all want to let go of a piece of you. You were loved, Becs.

Correction, are loved.

You will always be loved.

I step to the edge of the yacht, reaching out my hand as far as I can toward the setting sun.

"I love you, Becs." I softly say as I open up my fist slowly. Your ashes are blowing out from my hand because of the wind. Spreading, flying above in the air. And as the last strain of the dust leave my hand, I say, "Always."