Blue Friday

Cove of Cork

"We boarded the same train. I missed my stop for you but... I know we're still meant to part. What am I supposed to do now that we've reached the end?"

Friday

Chloe stirs, stretching languidly as she notices soft noises of the city spurring up to life with the start of another day.

It's exactly five in the morning, a time which Chloe's body is accustomed to waking up, even without an alarm clock.

When Bella jumps up on top of her, she smiles, finally remembering where she is as she mumbles, "I'm up. I'm up,"

Sitting up, she stretches once more with a yawn before standing up to fold her blanket and stack up her pillows neatly.

She then crosses over to the kitchen, pausing for a moment on her way when she realizes that Beca's door was still left slightly a jar. Last night, Beca had sleepily mumbled about leaving the door open —something about preparing in case of a fire or apocalyptic earthquake—before crashing down the bed.

This morning, the producer has curled up underneath the sheets, surrounded by what seems like an army of pillows.

She wonders if Beca feels better now. She hopes she does.

Finally, deciding to give the sleeping brunette more time to sleep, Chloe continues on.

After an hour and a half, she's washed up and almost done cooking breakfast. By this time, she hears the blaring alarm being silenced in Beca's room for the third time. Finally, there's movement as she hears little muted noises and footsteps. It has her silently anticipating the moment the brunette walks out.

Beca in the office may be about getting right down to business, formal, highly organized and filled with such class from her shoulder-length hair combed to perfection, without a single strand out of place, down to her iron-pressed outfits and unblemished shoes yet surprisingly, Beca at home, before eight in the morning is simply an endearing sleepyhead with slightly messy bed hair, black oversized Give Me Coffee or Die shirt and eyes struggling to open as she groans about wishing for Sunday to come so she can stay in bed all day.

Chloe holds back a laugh as she bites her lip, a smile playing along her features before she pushes Beca's coffee cup towards her.

Beca eagerly takes a sip after a relieved 'Thank god' and unlike the first time Chloe made her omelets and toast with the presentation of a six year old—something that would make Gordon Ramsey throw a pan off the window—Beca dives in the dish without a look of skepticism.

She still frowns at Chloe's milky and sugary coffee cup though.

Guess some things just don't change.

"Thanks for letting me borrow your clothes," she blurts out in an attempt for a conversation.

"I bet that's the reason why you keep crashing my place. That, and my cat," Beca mumbles and Chloe tilts her head as she sheepishly smiles.

"About that expensive perfume by the way..." she teases as Beca suddenly coughs up, beating her chest before eyeing her warningly.

"I can already smell my shampoo on your hair and my lotion. Stay away from my perfume," Beca points out, eyeing her sharply.

Chloe ends up wearing said perfume.

It's already seven past five when there's a knock at the door, the sound of the lock opening and in a few seconds Stacie pops in only to freeze, yet again, at the sight of them both—more like at Chloe wearing Beca's clothes while giddily about to spray perfume on her neck.