A/N: Hi guys! So, as a lot of you know, I was planning on posting the first chapter of another, more in-depth fic, but I've decided to re-write parts of it and delay it a bit. I got some inspiration for this sadly through a real life experience, but hopefully I've channeled it into something you'll enjoy reading. This might be a two-shot or a three-shot, haven't decided yet. This fic may be triggering to some of you, so individual warnings will be posted at the beginning of every chapter! Please R&R! :)

**TRIGGER WARNING FOR ALLUSIONS TO SUICIDE**

Chloe,

I'm going to skip right over all the bullshit greetings. You know the handwriting. You know who this is. In fact, it's October 1st, meaning it's been exactly one year since you first barged into my shower and forced me to sing your lady jam. It's been exactly one year since you sent my life spiraling into confusion and weakness.

Despite all our time in the Bellas, we never got too close until that night I ended up in prison. Funny, right? Not exactly the way you're taught to make friends. You bailed me out all on your own, while everyone else had opted to just go back to my dorm and wait. And don't get me wrong, I appreciated that they stuck around for me. But you, Chloe? You took the time and the effort to get me out and assure that I was okay.

Our relationship progressed from there. We became inseparable, constantly staying over in each others' rooms, which annoyed the shit out of Aubrey. I don't need to recap our entire friendship, though. After all, I'm talking to the other half. No, what I want to revisit is the night of your graduation party. The night where things went to both heaven and hell.

We were both pretty drunk, but I remember it all, clear as day. The way your hand brushed mine as we ended up dancing together. Your eyes met mine, and I saw something there I hadn't before; a mix of adoration and an unusual hunger. Our lips grazed each other, just as gently as our hands had.

Before long, our tongues were entwined, and we were stumbling towards your half-packed dorm with a growing lust between us. When we reached the door, our faces separated long enough for me to give you a weak nod before crashing into the room.

Clothes were thrown and it all went by in a rush of thrusting fingers and throaty moans, lust and love battling for the domination of my brain. I was inside of you, you were inside of me. But I think you may have wormed your way into me in more ways than one.

I left first thing in the morning, and that's the last time we spoke.

That night taught me two things, Chloe. Firstly, that apparently I'm a bottom…And secondly, that maybe those feelings I'd had for you all year weren't something I could push away any longer.

Yes, Chloe Beale, I am admitting my love to you. I didn't even consider the possibility of liking girls until I met you, with your sparkling blue eyes that could easily be the work of Walt Disney. Or one of those guys who draw the manga things.

God, this all sounds so queerballs.

But wait, I guess that is what I'm trying to tell you, right?

I told my dad last week, and…it didn't go very well. I really don't want to get into details. My mom's too busy back at home to even care. And that's when I resolved to tell you. I wanted…needed you to know my feelings. I needed someone to know who wouldn't try to hurt me.

You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Chloe Beale. I know I'll never be nothing more than a one-night stand to you, I know you'll never reciprocate the feelings, and I wouldn't blame you if you got all creeped out and never wanted to speak to me again. I don't think it'll be an issue. I just hope you know how special you are to me, how special you always have been, so you never feel worthless…never feel like giving up.

See you around, Beale.

Love,
Beca

The brunette closed her eyes for just a moment, willing the tears not to fall. With a burst of determination, she slid the envelope under Chloe's apartment door and hastily made her way down the emergency staircase and out to her car.

Beca turned, just for a moment, to look up at the redhead's window. She wondered if Chloe ever looked out at the stars on a calm night, or listened to music and watched the rain fall. With a sigh, she opened the door to her Prius and set off towards her destination.

"But Aubrey, what if she doesn't feel the same way?"

Aubrey Posen rolled her eyes as her best friend continued to asked anxious questions. Chloe had been here for two hours asking for help with Beca. They weren't getting anywhere.

"Chlo," she sighed, "it's obvious to everybody else that the hobbit has feelings for you. So why can't you just go and talk to her?"

"Don't call her that! I thought you two got along now!"

Aubrey chuckled. "Doesn't make her any less tiny."

With that, Chloe flopped onto Aubrey's couch and curled into a ball.

"Listen to me." The blonde's tone was stern, and the huddled mass on the cushions turned her eyes upward to look at her friend. "I can't see you like this any longer. I want you to go home, get changed, buy some flowers, and show up at Beca's door. You need to tell her that wasn't just a one night stand to you."

The redhead's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the night her and Beca had shared. It was obviously the younger girl's first time, which is why she didn't get angry when she woke to an empty bed that morning. But as time went on and contact with Beca became nonexistent, Chloe realized just how deep her feelings ran.

"Okay. Fine! Only because I can't keep this in any longer," Chloe relented.

An hour later, she unlocked the front door to her apartment and nearly slipped on a small envelope lying on the ground. Upon picking it up, she saw "Chloe" scrawled across the front in familiar handwriting. The biggest smile erupted onto her face. It had to be from Beca.

But her smile faded as quickly as it had appeared.

"I just don't get it."

"It's 'The Notebook,' Beca! What's not to get?" Chloe groaned.

It was the weekend before the ICCA finals, and the senior had invited Beca over to take a break from the vigorous rehearsals and watch a movie. Although she received a lot of complaint about the movie part, the brunette was at her door with a bag of Laffy Taffy half an hour later.

"Well," Beca started, chewing on a piece of the candy, "I don't get the whole letter thing. I mean, a letter every day for a year? Isn't that a lot of money for postage?"

Chloe whacked the brunette with the DVD's box. "It's romantic."

"No, it's pathetic. I think letters are impersonal, honestly."

The younger girl's face went blank for a moment.

"The only letter I think is worth writing is a suicide note."