Surprise?

Okay, so, am I an asshole? Yep. Should you all hate me? Probably. I'm officially that awful author who doesn't update for months and leaves you thinking they abandoned the story. That's me, and I fully accept responsibility for it. I'm not going to excuse it – I had plenty of opportunities to work on this, and I didn't. But I did promise, many months ago, that I would finish this fic, and I still fully intend to. (When is the next chapter going to come out? Hopefully faster than this one! But in all seriousness, I'm going to try to get the next one out within two weeks. I wont' promise anything, because you all have seen my track record, but I'll try.)

And here we are. Hopefully this chapter is worth the wait, and I want to thank you all so much for sticking with me this whole time. Things in the story are definitely about to start picking up, so bear with the continued slow pace for just a little longer. I needed to get this to the time skip, and though it seems like it's just more confrontations, I really do need them in the story, to push it to where I want it to be in the end.

And in case anyone is worried, I do have a planned ending for this fic – I've had one since the very beginning. If anyone's actually curious, this story's set to have fourteen chapters (Prologue + 12 + Epilogue), so we're actually over halfway now. The story's going to really start rolling next chapter once Aubrey and Chloe start putting the pieces together.

In regards to the seizure (yes, spoiler) that will happen this chapter: I read a firsthand account of someone who, before it happened, found that they ended up focusing on one single thing, and they couldn't stop thinking about it, so that's where this comes from. As always, I am by no means an expert on cancer, and any research is based solely on Internet findings - if you are an expert, please feel free to correct me.

To the I.A guest: I'm beyond flattered by your comment, and I'm more than willing to send you info regarding the ending of the fic. However, I currently have no means of contacting you; it appears that FFN erased the address you wrote in your review. If you can find some way of messaging me privately (or try writing your contact in a way to trick the site) than I'd be more than happy to help you out. ;)

And Really, It's No Surprise

Chapter Seven:

That Death Courts Only the Suitors Unwilling

Working her jaw up and down, Beca rolled her eyes at the image in the mirror as she opened and closed her mouth, counting silently with each turn. She honestly thought the whole thing was a little ridiculous – who needs to exercise their jaw? – but Doctor Krebs had told her that, after her first radiation treatment yesterday afternoon, it was a precaution in case the therapy messed with her mouth. Something like bone loss, or whatever. She'd said it wasn't likely, and Beca had bigger worries – like, well, living – than some possible jaw problem, but she did as she was told.

As she finished with the twentieth count, she cricked her neck. Her mind briefly flitted to yesterday's appointment – her first ever round of radiation therapy.

It wasn't too bad. It certainly wasn't pleasant, but unlike the chemo, it only lasted roughly thirty minutes. They'd taken her into a small room with a really damn big machine, and had her lie beneath it – she'd felt a bit like a frog on a biology tray, with the machine looming over her. She'd been instructed to hold very still, and then they'd placed a head mask over her face, and Beca was still a bit ruffled over the fact that she hadn't been warned about this beforehand. (Doctor Krebs and her mother insisted that yes, she had been told, but Beca hadn't really been in the mood to admit her lack of attention because they'd just put a mask over her head.)

But she'd only had to lie still, twiddle her thumbs, and then it was over and she was sent home. According to the doctor, she'd be having these appointments every weekday afternoon, from four thirty to five, but she'd live (now there was an ironic saying). She could feel a few of the effects, like straight up exhaustion, but they were nowhere near the degree of the I'm-in-a-living-hell side effects chemotherapy had so kindly bestowed upon her.

Grabbing her wig, Beca settled it gently on her head and adjusted it until she looked mostly normal, and then left the bathroom and made her way down the stairs, palms touching the railing slightly as she found even this simple task was capable of wearing her out.

The fatigue had been hitting her hard since the chemo, and Beca wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to make it through a whole school day without falling asleep, but she'd be damned if she didn't try her hardest.

Grabbing her usual breakfast – and bypassing the glasses in favor of a plastic cup – Beca sat down at the table and traced her fingers over the lines on her right arm; there was to be no scarring, thankfully, and the bandages had already been removed, but they served as a very visible reminder with each glance of Beca's condition.

Might as well have spelled "I have cancer" with the damned things. Beca grunted, bit into her Poptart, and looked away.

…

It was Tuesday.

Today was Tuesday.

Taking a deep breath, Chloe leaned herself against the bathroom counter and squared her shoulders. She stared straight into her reflection's eyes, a silent confidence booster. "You can do this," she whispered under her breath. "You can do this."

Chloe was terrified. Chloe was beyond terrified.

At eight years old, she'd jumped off a cliff over one hundred feet tall into the ocean after a dare by her brothers.

At twelve, she'd hopped the fence into Old Man Gregory's backyard and braved his bear of a dog in order to retrieve a tennis ball they weren't willing to pay five dollars to replace.

At sixteen, she'd stalled her car in the middle of the freeway, gave a ferocious kick to her dashboard, stared death in the face, and somehow, miraculously, started the engine and avoided a disastrous wreck.

But this? Confronting Beca, determining once and for all if the girl she loved even wanted to be part of her life anymore?

This was so, so much worse.

Chloe had never been more terrified in her life.

Taking another deep breath – in through the nose, out through the mouth – Chloe slumped her shoulders and brushed a stray piece of red hair from her face. She bit her lip, steadied herself, and whispered one last "You can do this" before marching out the door with a confidence as false as her smile.

…

Aubrey was there to meet her. Chloe had originally insisted that she could do this on her own, but Aubrey had seen right through her act, and in all honesty, Chloe was grateful. There was no way she could do this without some moral support, and she was so grateful she had a friend like Aubrey, a friend who lent her strength with a steady nod and a small smile.

Holding her arm out, Aubrey gestured for Chloe to take the additional help, and Chloe gladly accepted, grasping the blonde's hand in her own. Aubrey gave her a reassuring squeeze before releasing once more and turning towards the school's swinging doors and bustling hallways. "We find Beca, we deliver the meeting time, and we leave. That's it. Think you can manage that?"

Chloe took a shaky breath. "Yeah," she said, "yeah. I think I can manage that."

"Good." Aubrey punctuated the word with a quick, one-armed hug, and Chloe felt at least a small bit of tension leave her.

"Remind me to treat you when this is all over."

Aubrey shook her head. "Remind me to treat you."

Rolling her eyes, Chloe found herself unintentionally smiling. "You're the best friend in the world, you know that, right?"

"Of course I do." Aubrey sniffed haughtily, before adding a sly wink.

A giggle burst from Chloe's lips, and she saw Aubrey's own curl up into a relieved smile. Taking another deep breath, Chloe stood tall and braced herself for the upcoming conversation.

…

Oh. Shit.

Beca glanced wildly about as two very familiar faces set in very determined lines strode down the hallway straight towards her. Unable to move against the throng of milling high school students, Beca was about to dart into the nearest classroom in a last ditch effort of self-preservation, but suddenly the aforementioned faces were very much in front of her and very much angry.

Well, Aubrey looked angry.

To be fair, Aubrey always looked angry.

Backing against the wall, Beca fought back a sheepish grin and steeled her gaze into an emotionless mask. Her chest panged as she noticed a slight break in Chloe's expression, but she continued to bear the neutral look. (Nothing in her life had ever weighed as heavy as this invisible mask on her emotions.)

It was Chloe who spoke first. Beca could see Chloe's fingers trembling, and her eyes traced the slight quiver of Chloe's jaw as the redhead pushed past her nerves and began to speak. "Beca," she began, bright eyes boring into Beca's own. "We need to talk."

Stiffening her back, Beca replied harshly, "No, we – "

Chloe cut her off before she could even finish. "Yes, we do." Beca was tempted to squirm out of the way of Chloe's piercing gaze, but a hand hit the wall next to her, and Beca found herself pinned in by a very angry blonde and a very determined redhead. "Not here." Chloe glanced at the clock. "We don't have time. But today, after school, you will meet me by the back entrance, and we are going to discuss this like reasonable adults. I've given you time, and I'm not going to force anything, but I need to know where we stand." Her voice fell quiet. "I need to know what happened to my best friend."

Beca swallowed, and she could feel the tears start to prick at her eyes. God, every look from Chloe, every broken gaze and hitched sigh; they pierced Beca's heart, sharp pains as a constant reminder of who she was hurting. But her mind continued to scold her heart, and Beca closed her eyes and counted to ten, reminding herself for the umpteenth time that this would benefit Chloe in the long run. It would. She just needed to tough it out, to stay strong.

Her eyes stayed dry.

Opening them once more, Beca gave a tight nod. "Fine." Her voice was terse. "I'll meet you there. Now excuse me, but I have to get to class." She brushed past Chloe's arms and slipped through the small gaps in the crowd as she made her way to her first period.

Beca needed to make it final. She needed to let it be known, once and for all, that she and Chloe were no longer friends. She needed to cut every last tie between them, and Chloe had just presented the perfect opportunity.

All that remained was to see if Beca was strong enough to take it.

…

It was done.

As Beca left for class, Chloe felt what little strength she had leave her body in a whoosh, and she stumbled backwards. Aubrey grabbed her in steady arms, and Chloe shot her a smile before righting herself.

"And now we wait," Chloe murmured.

Aubrey placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Chloe was thankful that, for once, she appeared to be keeping her temper reined in.

Repeating Chloe's words, Aubrey said, "And now we wait."

…

Some days passed by agonizingly slow, with seconds that passed like minutes and hours that stretched for days. The shuffling of papers, the tick of the clock, and the tap tap tap of a pencil was the soundtrack, and sheer excruciating boredom was the theme.

Today was not one of those days.

Beca's leg bounced up and down fervently as she eyed the clock on the wall with growing anticipation.

Thirty minutes left of the day, and then she was to meet Chloe, rip out her heart, and stomp it into little bitty pieces. Clearly something Beca wanted to do.

She bit her lip and fiddled with the card string around her neck as the music theory teacher discussed the first big assignment of the semester. The hand not fiddling with the string was rapping a steady tempo on the wooden top of the desk, and Beca wished more than anything that she could be anywhere but here.

"Beca, since you seem to be paying attention so well, give me an example of a perfect fifth," the teacher instructed, snapping Beca out of her reverie. With a startled jerk, her arm sent her pencil flying over the edge of the desk, and she flushed.

"C to G," she mumbled, and Ms. Cadence nodded her satisfaction, moving back to the board to continue her lesson.

Grumbling to herself, Beca was about to lean down to pick up her pencil, but something stopped her movement. She froze, and her eyes honed in on the utensil lying on the floor as fog began to seep into her thoughts.

The pencil.

She needed to pick up the pencil.

It was as if her mind was a record player, and the tape had gotten stuck, looping on repeat in her head.

The pencil. The pencil. She needed to pick up the pencil.

Beca needed to pick up the pencil.

The pencil.

Her hand gripped the desk and her knuckles turned white.

The pencil.

The floor stretched on beneath her, and suddenly the pencil was hundreds of feet down.

She needed to pick up the pencil.

It was a cliff, yawning before her, and she stood at the very precipice, balanced precariously on the edge of her seat, about to fall.

The pencil.

Her hand loosened.

The pencil.

She let go.

She fell.

Her world was muffled as she dropped, and in the distance she could hear the scrapes of chairs and screams of panic, and as she hit the ground her limbs shot out in different directions, and she tried, so hard, to grab that pencil, but her hands and arms shot up into the air, and back down, and up again, and everything was so far away.

Jerking hands grabbed her and turned her on her side as her head lolled forward and her limbs flailed and her mouth opened and gasped and air came out but none came in.

Miles away, she could hear voices calling for help, voices calling for people to move, voices that she could barely hear in a world of dull noise and blurred vision.

As her eyelids fluttered and her body slowed, warm hands lifted her up in the air, up up up, and then she was moving, going somewhere, and there were flashing red lights and people with bright clothes and –

Beca never did pick up the pencil.

…

"Did you hear about the girl who – "

" – passed out, right in the middle of class – "

" – hope she's okay – "

" – did they say why – "

" – heard she just threw herself on the floor – "

" – not a seizure, they're just exaggerating – "

" – her name? What was her name again?"

" – some quiet kid, no one knows – "

" – even cares, she probably just wanted attention – "

" – ambulance came – "

" – nurse seemed like she knew – "

" – was there, it was so terrifying – "

" – can't even begin to imagine how scary that must've been – "

" – to the hospital, and no one's heard anything since."

…

The bell rang. Chloe raked her hands through her hair, shouldered her backpack, and marched out of the classroom. Students rushing to the bus jostled her left and right, but she kept her strides strong and path steady, and it was only when she reached the back entrance that she faltered, because now she would find out, once and for all, if the friendship, the love, she'd shared with Beca, was all gone.

Five years. Five years of laughter and smiles and a light as bright as the sun.

Five years that might disappear in an instant.

Fighting back a sniffle, Chloe shut her eyes tightly and inhaled. No. She would not cry. Not until she knew the truth, not until it was (or wasn't, please wasn't) confirmed that Beca no longer wanted to be her friend, that her feelings had officially messed everything up for good.

It didn't – it didn't make sense, though.

This wasn't the Beca Chloe knew.

The Beca Chloe had come to known over the last five years would never throw away their friendship. She would never let feelings come between them, and she would never purposefully hurt Chloe. Her eyes had always held a mischievous twinkling, and her sarcasm was sharp, but never enough to wound. Beca was kind and loyal and, no matter how much she denied it, loving.

The Beca from the past week and a half was so, so different from the Beca Chloe knew, and it scared her.

This Beca, with her hard gaze and steely eyes and stony face – this was not Chloe's Beca.

And it hurt, more than anything, to think that, for some reason, Chloe's Beca was gone. Well and truly gone.

This meeting would determine that. This meeting would determine, once and for all, Beca's stance on their relationship.

Only –

Beca wasn't here yet. As Chloe saw Aubrey approaching from the corner of her eye, she glanced down at her watch and frowned. It was already ten minutes after the bell's ring, and there was no sign of Beca anywhere.

Aubrey matched her frown as she came closer, and Chloe scanned the area, looking and listening for anything that might indicate Beca's presence.

Nothing but a few snippets of gossip – some poor girl had fainted in class – and a handful of curious gazes.

"Where is she?" Aubrey's voice was quiet, but there was something positively fatal in her tone, and Chloe winced.

"She'll be here," she assured, checking her watch yet again. "She said she would."

Time passed. The sidewalks cleared as students left for home, and still Chloe stood, feeling more helpless by the second. A fist squeezed her heart with every minute that passed, and after thirty minutes of tense silence, Chloe whispered brokenly, "She's not coming."

…

Walls of white greeted Beca when she regained consciousness, but all she saw was red.

Practically snarling, Beca ripped the sheets from her body and tossed them to the ground in a crumpled heap. An alarmed nurse poked his head in, saw the mess, and immediately ran for help, but Beca ignored him as she felt her veins pulse in rage.

The meeting with Chloe that she'd now missed, the class she'd disrupted, the questions she'd have to face tomorrow – all because her stupid fucking body decided to give her a stupid fucking seizure.

And all that rage she thought had finally been gone, had finally left, flooded back, and she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. Grabbing her wig, she tossed it to the floor in her fit, staring at the lifeless item in disgust. At least the piece of junk hadn't fallen off during her seizure, but that little fact did nothing to calm her down.

The nurse returned, this time with a worried Doctor Krebs in tow. "Beca, are you – "

"I'm pissed," Beca answered, leaving no room for the question to finish. "I'm pissed. I'm so fucking sick and tired of this shit, of having seizures and therapy and brain fucking cancer, and I just – I need to be alone. Okay?"

Doctor Krebs' eyes held something akin to empathy as she held up a finger and said, "I'll be right back." Only a moment had passed before she returned, water bottle in hand. Scooping the wig off the floor and offering both items to Beca, she told, "There's a park nearby, down a block or so. Stay hydrated, walk it off, and promise to come back."

Beca took the water, shoved the wig back on, gave a stiff nod, and nearly launched herself out of the room. Her footsteps thundered in the quiet halls as she walked briskly out of the building, nearly trembling with all of the rage at the injustice of the world, of her situation, of the joke her life had become.

…

"Are you even kidding me!" Aubrey shouted to the empty parking lot.

…

"Are you even kidding me," Beca growled to the empty park.

…

"I'm sick of this!" Aubrey threw her hands wide.

…

"Of all of this!" Beca kicked at the ground.

…

"The excuses – "

…

" – the lies – "

…

" – the pain – "

…

" – and the shit to put up with!" Beca ground out through a tight jaw.

…

"I'm tired of seeing – "

…

"I'm tired of making – "

…

" – you – "

…

" – Chloe – "

…

" – get hurt!" Across town from each other, Beca's and Aubrey's tirades lined up.

…

"How dare she – " Aubrey clenched her fist.

…

" – fuck everything up – " Beca gritted her teeth.

…

" – and throw you away – "

…

" – like you're – "

…

" – she's – "

…

" – worth nothing, when you're – "

…

" – she's – "

…

" – worth so much more!" Again their voices swelled, words identical as one raged to a friend and the other to air.

…

"No more – " Aubrey yelled.

…

" – of this," Beca finished. "No more – "

…

" – running – "

…

" – stalling – "

…

" – and hiding – "

…

" – and hoping."

…

"It's time to end this – "

…

" – once – "

…

" – and – "

…

" – for all," Beca and Aubrey said resolutely.

…

"It's time to realize that every day your face breaks more, and I can't keep watching Beca disappoint you, Chloe, I can't keep watching you shatter. I'll always be here to pick up the pieces, but that should never be something I have to do." Aubrey's voice broke as she reached out her hands to cup Chloe's cheeks, gently brushing away the tears streaming down the redhead's face.

…

It's time to realize that my best hope left is to throw it all away, to take this relationship and finally end it, to finally sever all ties. I can't keep watching her break, I can't keep causing her to hurt, because if she shatters, I won't be there to pick up the pieces.

Beca gave a strangled yell, alone in the park and the world. Her voice caught in her throat, and the yell choked into silence. Angrily brushing the tears from her eyes, Beca involuntarily let out a high, keening whine, and her face twisted into a snarl as she raised her hand, curled her fingers, and punched the nearest tree.

Pulling her hand back, she let loose a mocking laugh as dirt and blood mingled on the tips of her knuckles. The pain was a dull sting in the back of her mind as her emotional turmoil whipped a storm inside of her head, howling winds that screamed her anger and frustration in her thoughts.

Beca curled her hand into a fist once more, leaned against the tree, and slowly sank down against it as the tears fell, accompanied only by silent sobs. She closed her eyes and relinquished her consciousness to a welcome sleep.

…

The drive was silent as Chloe clutched the wheel of the car with white hands and mouth drawn down in a taut bow. Her thoughts were racing, chasing each other in little circles around her mind, but with no clear winner, they remained a jumbled mess, and Chloe was unable to sort through any of them.

None of it made sense.

None of it made sense, why Beca would abandon her, turn her back, throw away their friendship and then go so far as to stand up their meeting, the one meeting that would finally allow them to air their feelings, to finally allow Chloe to understand the past week and a half, and to understand where she stood with her best friend. Ex-best friend. Chloe didn't even know what Beca was to her anymore, and that tore her heart in half.

As Chloe turned the corner onto Beca's street, she stiffened at the sight of a black car in the driveway, beaten, aged, and covered in a thin film of dust, but without a doubt the same car she'd once seen resting in the driveway of this house several years ago.

"Her dad?" Chloe murmured, bringing the car to a slow halt a couple of houses down. "Is that why?"

Next to her, Aubrey jerked her head towards Chloe in disbelief. "What? Her dad? Is her dad back?"

Chloe nodded mutely, lifting a hand to point a shaking finger at the familiar black car.

Aubrey scoffed in disbelief. "No way. Please don't tell me that's why she's gone crazy! God, I knew she had daddy issues, but that – "

"Aubrey," Chloe reprimanded sharply.

"Chloe," Aubrey retorted, crossing her arms. "Don't you dare chastise me. I don't have a perfect home life either, but it doesn't give me the excuse to turn into a self-righteous asshole and toss my friends to the curb! If this is the reason for Beca's behavior, then you have got to be shitting me, because this is, quite frankly, the dumbest thing I have ever heard of."

Biting back harsh words that Chloe knew she would regret, she opted for a quieter, but still vehement, tone. "You don't know what it was like for Beca," Chloe said forcefully. "You don't know what she went through, every day in middle school. Her parents tore her apart, and her dad leaving did a number on her that you'll never understand."

Aubrey sneered. "No, you're right, I won't understand, because it wasn't me. But what I do understand is that Beca has been pulling a giant load of bullshit these past two weeks, and I will not stand passively by and watch her continue to hurt you!"

Chloe opened the car door and stepped out, brushing off Aubrey's cries of indignation at being ignored. As they walked to Beca's doorstep, and Aubrey continued to rant, Chloe could feel a faint fluttering in her chest. Even as they tried the doorbell, waited for several minutes, and finally came to the conclusion that no one was home, the feeling bubbled inside her. As Aubrey huffed and stormed away, Chloe followed silently behind, and as the tingling continued, she found herself finally able to place a name to it.

Hope.

Hope, that maybe, just maybe, there was a reason behind it all. A reason that could be resolved.

…

Shoulders slouched and head low, Beca made her way back inside the hospital, slinking through the automatic doors and cradling her injured hand, the skin still raw and bleeding. Spotting her parents sitting in the waiting room – her mom bouncing her leg and attempting to read a magazine as her dad agitatedly twiddled his thumbs and stared at the opposite wall – Beca silently walked towards them, tossing her empty bottle of water in a bin.

"Hey," she said quietly.

Both heads jerked up at once, relief flooding their eyes. Gaze honing in on Beca's hand, her mom stood hurriedly. "What happened?" she asked, worry and fear flooding her voice.

Smiling sheepishly, Beca mumbled, "I, uh, had a bit of an accident."

"I'll say." Her dad shook his head, but the genuine smile on his face betrayed his utter relief, and it felt nice to know that, even if one important relationship was about to end, at least another had been mended. "I'll, uh, I'll let your mother take you to the back rooms. Maybe let a nurse bandage that up." He rubbed his neck and looked away, and the man looked more awkward than she had ever seen him in his life, but it finally lent a bit of humanity that the image in her mind had been lacking for five years.

"Sure thing," she agreed, and let her mom lead her away from the sitting room.

Beca was still angry, certainly. It bubbled beneath the surface, a rage that couldn't be quelled until the world stopped blowing things up in her face, and that was unlikely to happen anytime soon.

But after yelling and crying and punching, Beca found herself more tired than anything.

As a nurse cleaned her knuckles, Beca barely winced at the sting of the alcohol, and her mind drifted away to tomorrow's inevitable conversation; and all of the sorrow and rage she'd felt, though still lingering in her mind, was suddenly swept away in a wave of complete and utter fatigue.

…

Beca expected nothing less when Aubrey and Chloe cornered her the next morning, but she mumbled an excuse, and though Aubrey was practically snarling, they decided to drop it until lunchtime.

…

Chloe's head was up, and the table in front of her was empty. Aubrey was in the middle of scolding her for not grabbing any food, but Chloe was too focused on the doorways. Her eyes scanned over every entering student, and her muscles tensed at each person that walked through the door.

And then, at last, Beca entered.

Chloe's chair scraped back as she leapt from her seat and nearly sprinted across the room, dodging through students and wrapping a determined hand around Beca's wrist. Beca's eyes barely had any time to widen before she was being dragged back across the room and seated at the table.

Chloe took the seat next to the stunned Beca and wasted absolutely no time in getting to the matter at hand. "Is this because of your dad?"

Beca's eyebrows shot up, and her jaw dropped. "I – what?"

"Is this because of your dad?" Chloe repeated, voice urgent.

"What do you mean – "

Aubrey cut her off before she could even finish. "This whole thing. This whole 'pretending-we're-not-friends' thing."

Beca dryly commented, "Aubrey, we're not friends. You hate me."

Before Chloe had the chance to hold her back, Aubrey was standing, looming over Beca as her voice began to raise. "No, you know what, don't you dare take that tone with me! I know our relationship, and yeah, we're not the best of friends, but we are friends, and you need to grow up and realize that what you're doing is beyond horrible." Chloe's eyes flitted to the side as heads began turn. Aubrey's voice continued to rise. "And you know who is your friend? Chloe!"

Resting a hand on Aubrey's shoulder, Chloe attempted to point out the situation. "Aubrey, maybe we should – "

"No, Chloe, enough! Stop defending her! Stop defending the fact that she's screwed you over, that she's torn you apart, that she's even worth your forgiveness anymore! Stop acting like there's an excuse for her behavior, because I don't give a fuck about her dad! She has no right to treat you the way she has!" The cafeteria was almost silent as Aubrey finished her tirade, her shouts reverberating in the air as students stared in shock.

But Beca –

Beca wasn't shocked, or angry. She didn't say a word. It was as if she had shut down completely, and Chloe ached to reach out and take her in her arms, but before she could do anything, Beca was standing and leaving, footsteps loud in the silence.

And Chloe couldn't move.

Her feet were frozen to the tile, and her hands were trapped in a halfway position, arms crooked as they had begun to reach out.

And then a whisper broke the silence.

"Isn't that the girl who fainted?"

Chloe's eyes widened, her face blanched, and she ran.

…

Beca felt like she should have been prepared for Chloe to run after her. She should have.

And she also should have been prepared for the fact that rumors of yesterday's classroom seizure would have circulated by now, and that, just maybe, Chloe would hear of them, and that, just maybe, someone would question her on it.

She wasn't prepared.

When Chloe tore down the empty hallway behind her and nearly slammed her into the lockers, Beca could only stare in shock at the panic lacing the redhead's expression. "Are you okay?" Chloe panted out, and absolute fear shone in her eyes. "Are you okay?" she repeated. "I heard that you fainted, oh god Beca, are you okay? Is that why you missed our meeting? You're okay, though, right?"

And it was the stark terror in Chloe's voice, the trembling limbs and the shaky breaths, that lent Beca the last spurt of strength she needed to finish it off. To finally, finally, end this.

"Yes, I'm fine," she answered dully. "I didn't have enough to eat, I fainted, that's it."

And Chloe exhaled in relief, and Beca closed her eyes.

"Yes, that's why I missed our meeting."

Chloe opened her mouth to respond, but Beca beat her to it.

"If you want to know my response, then know this – we're through."

She sounded like a robot: lifeless.

Chloe's expression cracked.

"I don't want to be your friend."

The tone droned in Beca's ears, and her heart screamed at her to stop.

The cracks expanded.

"Please don't ever talk to me again."

Chloe's expression shattered, and Beca gave one cool glance before spinning on her heel and walking out of the building, shouldering her backpack and leaving school without a single glance behind her. In a vault of emotions dwelling within her, a key was turned, and a lock was set.

…

Two months passed in a blur of painful therapy and a dull weariness that shrouded each step she took, and every day, Beca Mitchell wasted away just a little bit more.