#━━ ⁜ ﹙ MUSINGS. ﹚ hidden under moss too deep to sweep away ｡

[zhongshen]

tag dropping.

[unholyhelbig]

Bechloe Prompt - Chloe always invites Beca to hang out over the weekend, in hopes to get closer to her, but Beca has always declined and always says she's busy but never what she is busy with. Deciding to follow Beca one weekend, Chloe never expected it to lead her to a literal grave. [Or where Beca visits her late mother every weekend to clean her mother's final resting place]

[A/N: I changed it a bit, IM SORRY] 

—> SUBMIT PROMPTS HERE

The grass was dead. Its once green blades had faded to a sickly brown- a brown so dull that it reminded Chloe of eyes that had flickered of all curiousness. She could feel the cold, understand why the plots of land looked like a nuclear war site, but still, it made her stomach clench in worry.

She listened easily to the sound of rain beating against high hanging branches. The leaves weighted heavily with the thick coat of water. A few chilled drops hit Chloe on the back of her neck, the young redhead wiping away the liquid at first before caving to her resolve. Now a stain soaked into space where her cotton shirt met her fleece jacket.

This rain would be good, Chloe thought, for the plots that were headed by sharp stones long forgotten. Even with the rain, she could tell that the moss spreading along limestone was due to abandonment. They were cracked, with rust stains leaking onto incorrigible words.

She couldn’t’ tell how long the graveyard had been here- but judging by the old markers, and the even older wrought iron fence that surrounded the property- she knew it had to be four times her age.

Purple wisteria plants wound themselves up the sharpened iron spikes. The lavender flowers had dulled out, a few sparks of color moved against budded vines. They looked like they could house thorns; like they had been stripped of all color and belonged with the dead buried beneath sheets of dirt.

Chloe couldn’t help but lift her chin up to try and see past the light drizzle.

Beca couldn’t’ be here. There was no reason for the young woman to drive herself to an old graveyard in the early morning hours. She had pulled her black car as far into the parking lot that she could get it before stalking out into the rain.

The older of the two held off for a few moments, she found solace under a sweeping willow tree with low hanging moss that clouded her from the icy sheets that began to form against the very dead grass that Chloe couldn’t push from her mind.

Her feet were sinking into the muddy base of the tree, her full body weight leaning against the bark that had been formed in the same edge of time that a shovel first broke the ground in front of her.

She watched silently as Beca came into her view. She had reserves about following her out into the country like this. It felt too invasive like she was breaking something special between the two of them; but after the multiple times that Beca had quickly canceled her plans before burying her words into coffee, Chloe knew that something was being well secured.

The woman was dressed warmly. She had a grey sweatshirt on, covered by a black leather jacket. Beca wore fingerless gloves, even from here, Chloe could tell that her breath pushed into the wet air like a football player running drills.

She held flowers; big bursts of color that came in the form of earth-shattering oranges, and yellows so vibrant that the petals were drawn from the sun itself. The reds dripped in subtle despair, thorns drawing out their own drops of blood.

The brunette took a stilling breath before she knelt down in front of a grave; one far too old and crumbled to have sentimental meaning. Yet, Beca closed her eyes, depriving the world of the golden color that they radiated. She pulled a single flower, a zinnia, Chloe mused, from the bundle before placing it carefully against the base of the stone.

Chloe blinked dumbly before her eyes scanned the rest of the yard. She stepped closer to the hidden edge that she hugged- closer to the sheet of moss that kept her hidden in the clutches of the dead. She gasped, almost silently.

There was a brush of color against every headstone in view; hundreds of them. They were people forgotten, they were people that were written about in the history books and may be remembered in the town history. But no one came to visit them anymore, most family members buried a few feet away.

Beca had haphazardly left a flower at every single grave.

The redhead bit the inside of her lip to keep tears from drawing at her waterline. Don’t make such a big deal, Chloe. Beca would tell her. She would tell her to swallow it down, and that it was just an act of kindness no one would really appreciate but the dead.

“You followed me out here?”

She drew in a breath quick enough to cut her throat, deep cobalt eyes flicking up to meet honey ones. She hadn’t even heard Beca approach, not the crunch of the slowly freezing ground of the breath that hung so heavily in the air. “Jesus.”

“Sorry,” She flushed “I suppose I’m used to being the only one here.”

Chloe swallowed thickly before she reached forward and grasped the collar of Beca’s jacket. She pulled the girl into the shade, it was cooler under the foliage of the willow tree, but it was darker, the two of them standing close in a shared space.

“What are you doing out here?” She said, voice raspy. She kept her fingers around the collar of the sweatshirt. “You’re going to catch your death.”

Beca cracked a small smile, eyes flicking to Chloe’s lips “I don’t know, it seemed like the right thing to do.”

“You do this every weekend?” Chloe asked “You put flowers on every grave? Why?”

“If I don’t, who will?”

It was a simple way to answer a question with an equally as echoed one. Beca seemed mighty smug to Chloe. Chloe who wasn’t the slightest bit mad at the young brunette. Her hand still clenched the bouquet of flowers in frozen fingers. Her eyes were dull, and her nose was running, but Beca didn’t’ seem to notice.

“These people,” She swallowed roughly “They don’t have anyone to care about them anymore. They don’t have a legacy written in stone… and I just, I think that’s a sad existence. To be forgotten, you know?”

There was a beat of silence.

“No one deserves to be forgotten.”

Chloe knew all too well, letting her stare flick towards the headstones. No one seemed to mow the grass against the base of the stones, no one seemed to scrub the rust or trim the weeds. But Beca had thrown herself out here every single Saturday for god knows how long.

She moved her fingers against the side of Beca’s face, swallowing roughly as she traced her touch across Beca’s lips. Their breath mingled, Beca leaning into the warmth that Chloe offered with a simple gesture. A simple gesture that paled in comparison to laying flowers against graves.

The rain was wetly draped over her bone structure, eyes sharp as Beca inhaled carefully. She tilted her eyes to the side. She had a tender look in her eyes, one that pushed Chloe forward- that drove her into a pure madness. She needed to feel every inch of Beca’s skin. The emotion in her actions, in her kindness, pulling at her.

Chloe ghosted her lips of Beca’s. She felt the cold numbness of the rain, tasted the earthy essence that the girl presented as the two melded into one another. Beca lifted her hand, curling her arm around Chloe’s neck as she continued to clench the flowers in hand.

The world seemed to cease existence the moment their lips touched, Chloe letting tears flow unchecked against her cheeks. The two couldn’t’ tell, couldn’t fold away from each other as emotion seeped into an empty graveyard, where nothing mattered, but a bouquet of flowers, and a pension for kindness.