in the middle of the night ~c.l.~

xi

3 1/2 years later.

Eyes closed. Alona sprawled on the other side of the bed, the diamond ring scratching against her bare, brown calves. Chloe's legs dangling over. Soft sleepy breathing. Chloe opened her eyes as the light peered in through the blinds.

She swallowed, gross morning breath. It was six thirty. Her fiancée wouldn't be up for a few more hours. Chloe put up her hair, now down to the middle of her back. Twirling blond tresses around her finger, she popped in a hair elastic from the nightstand and stumbled into the bathroom.

I feel like Death, she thought, dragging a toothpaste-coated toothbrush around her mouth. I feel like Death personified. Why does my body automatically clock me in to wake up at six thirty?

She splashed water on her face and scrubbed it clean of last night's makeup with a wipe. Coffee, she thought, I need coffee. She wandered into the kitchen, enclosing her fingers around her phone and clicking it on, setting a photo of her and Alona's new cat, Nebula ("That's Nebula Santiago-Lukasiak to you, lady at the vet's office." "Okay babe, chill.") alight.

She hauled out of a cup from the cupboard, scooped the chicory into the holder with a spoon, filled the container with water, decked the pot into its place, and pressed the ON/OFF button, filling the room with sounds of slurping and spilling. She slumped down against the kitchen counter, waiting.

The phone in her hand rang with the ringtone of some old song from Chloe's Quarter-Life Crisis Playlist (Alona insisted it was good for the soul to make playlists, Chloe agreed). She knew all the words to the song, but she honestly could not tell you the name of it. It picked up on some part in the second verse. She sang along before answering, not bothering to look at the screen:

Seek me out
Look at, look at, look at, look at me
I'm all the fishes in the sea
Wake me up
Give me, give me, give me what you got
In your mind, in the middle of the night

She stopped her silly crooning and half-heartedly slid her fingers across the screen. "Hello," she practically yawned, "This is Chloe Santiago." She had taken one of Alona's last names as a stage name for the past few years they had been seeing each other; it was easier to read off a note card at award ceremonies and during television appearances. They were getting married, after all. She knew they would be the third month in, when Alona came to visit her at her show. It also helped when she answered the phone, because no one went, "Oh my god, are you that girl from Dance Moms?"

"Chloe Santiago? Do I have the wrong number? I'm looking for Chloe Lukasiak?"

Chloe internally sighed. "Whom may I ask is speaking?" She never knew if that was correct grammar, and she was always afraid someone would correct her one day.

"It's um- it's Lucas. Lucas Triana."

Chloe nearly hit her head on the counter. Lucas? She hadn't spoken to him since, since.... since that FaceTime call three years ago! She had came out, and he had looked shocked, told her she was a filthy queer, and hung up. Chloe hadn't expected such hateful words to come out of her best friend's mouth. She thought he was accepting! Chloe had reconsidered this though, while sobbing in Alona's tiny arms, that he was the kind of person to casually throw around the word fag. Chloe, always so compliant, would never speak up in fear of conflict.

But she was stronger now. So she blocked him on everything, deleted his number, blocked it, and told her family to stop having him around. She wouldn't put up with a homophobic asshole. But he was phoning her now?

"How the fuck did you get my number?" She demanded, suddenly very angry. Thank god they had moved from her third-floor apartment to something nice on Fifth Street, the bisexual flag framed over the mantel, along with copies of Alona's first book of poems, The Story About The Girl Who Didn't Speak. It was so nice to be financially stable. Thank you, position as the prima ballerina of the New York Ballet Company.

Lucas was taken aback. "Through a friend of a friend..." He murmured. Chloe wasn't taking it. "Who told you?"

"Mackenzie."

Chloe almost threw her phone to the ground. "Motherfucking shit!" She cursed. Mackenzie was always a blabbermouth.

"What the fuck do you want with me?" She sneered, the coffee finally done. She put him on speakerphone and poured a cup, getting out another for her partner. "Well?" She said after he didn't answer. She was so mad. She took her mug and drank it, steaming hot and black, different from her usual milk-cooled and sugar-sweetened cup. It burned her pharynx and mouth, leaving a sickly feeling in her stomach, but she didn't care.

"I wanted to get back in touch. I wanted to - to apologize. For what I said all those years back. I didn't know how to respond. It was such a big change for me..."

"A big change for you, yeah?" Chloe cut him off, chuckling. "Big change for you my ass. Like you were the one who had to deal with being scared to hold your partner's hand on the street in fear of harassment. Like you were the one who random men would come up to in malls and ask you and your girlfriend if they could watch you have sex. Like you were the one who was told their sexuality wasn't real or valid, and that they were greedy, and that they needed to pick one gender, even though there are more than two genders and that they were a straight girl looking for attention and... and..." Chloe was distraught at this point, her voice curling and dwindling down to a soft, sad pitch, tears tumbling down her cheeks. She was silently thanking God that Alona was still asleep.

"Chloe, I'm sorry. I'm so so so sorry." He pleaded, but she blinked hard and spoke gently but firmly into the speaker, "I don't want you in my life. I decided this three years ago and I'm deciding it now."

"Please, Chloe! Think of all the good times we've have! Think of the beach before Ireland! Think about getting drunk for the first time! Think about us!"

Chloe sobbed, gripping her phone so tightly she was afraid she would break it. "You're too late you're too late you're too late." So much emotion at seven a.m., Jesus Christ. Alona was in the doorway of the kitchen, a quavering "Babe?" on her lips, but no sound would come out.

"Please." Lucas's voice scratched at her speaker, begging her.

"No." She screamed, probably scaring the whole neighborhood. "You hurt me. I'm not letting you in again."

She punched the off button and threw her phone across the room. Thank the lord it landed on a cushion. There she sat, slumped against the counter yet again, mashing the butt of her palms to her cheekbones.

"Oh, my my." Alona muttered, and flocked to her, using the pads of her thumbs to wipe under Chloe's eyes. "You are so kind. You are so strong. You are the strongest person I know. You are so wonderful."

Chloe breathed in deep and took Alona's hand in hers. It was so close and intimate, like they were the only two people in the world. "Lona, baby, promise me something."

"Anything, love."

"Promise me you'll never leave me."

"Never, mi corazón, never."

Alona got up and offered a hand up to Chloe. She took it, swinging it back and forth, eventually settling in the middle of the bed, and drifting slowly back to sleep.

-fin-

well, here it is. my last dance moms fanfiction. I'm sorry it was so rushed. I know some of you will be disappointed, but please understand that I no longer have interest in writing for this fandom
(but I will be writing poetry, if you wanna check that out its called "the stage manager is tearing seams and drinking salty coffee" and here's the link:http://w.tt/1R6ZQQL #ShamelessSelfPromo). I hope you all understand. Thank you for joining me on this weird journey of writing probably the only dance moms fic with a queer protagonist, lol. Thank you so much, I love you all.

(and of course, the song in the media box is the one that started it all: daredevil by Fiona Apple)

xxxx colleen cosette