Chapter Text
Beth admits, before Townes she never considered the possibility of queerness, whether that be in herself or others. However, ever since Roger, ever since Townes, maybe ever since Jolene, Beth had been pushed out of society’s binary views. The importance of gender had always perplexed Beth. Why did people care so much that she was a woman? Why did they care more so about her gender than her achievements?
Yet, she never had any chance to explore newfound territory… until Cleo. Cleo, who barged into Beth’s life while she was still trying to figure out her relationship with benny. Cleo, who kissed her as a greeting, but made it feel so much more intimate than “hello.” There was some sort of gravity there, some magnetic pull that pushed Beth to continue to seek Cleo out throughout the night in New York. But, just as quickly as she came, Cleo was gone and Beth was once again, obsessed with Chess.
Chess would always be the top priority in Beth’s life. It had been one of the only constants in her life. Something which was so personal and grounding, and yet a destructive power to it. When Cleo called the night before her match with Borgov, she knew she shouldn’t go downstairs. But that goddamn french accent made her feel like this was a gambit worth taking. Almost everyone she had hooked up with before had stemmed from competition. Cleo was different, she was captivating because of her confidence, her outspoken nature, her openness with her past, her natural charisma… Beth does not feel a need for Cleo, but there is definitely something unidentifiable between them. Admittedly, she didn’t want to face it, especially before Borgov, and yet, here she was on her fifth drink, talking about love and fucking.
Beth said Townes on a whim, just to see how Cleo would react. Unfortunately, that backfired as they were not chatting with two revolting men. Yet, this was comforting in its own right. Relationships had never been easy for Beth. But, losing Shiable had taught her to reach out to those she cares about. And maybe it’s the alcohol, but Beth feels a sudden need to retreat back into her room. Not to go over defenses or endgames, but because she really couldn’t stop staring at Cleo.
“You know what, I have a big game tomorrow, so I think it’s about time Cleo and I take our leave”
Cleo looks at her astonished, but after a pointed look from Beth, something clicks within her. “Yes, yes, Beth must rest, but it was fun while it lasted. Good night.”
Beth had never been one to initiate intimacy, she liked throwing hints and playing games, but never reached out and made the first move. And yet, Cleo wasn’t the one who took Beth’s hands and led her to the hotel room. Cleo wasn’t the one who whispered “can I kiss you?” behind closed doors. Beth had never wanted someone so desperately.
Kissing Cleo wasn’t like kissing anyone else. She was soft, but not delicate. She made the moment passionate instead of fierce. When Beth slept with Benny, it was good, and yet there was no real emotion there. And if there was, it was crushed by Benny’s spiel of chess moves right afterwards. With Cleo, it was different. No facial hair. No chess. Just black hair, a french accent, a body that was probably sculpted after Aphrodite, the taste of alcohol and cigarettes, and nimble fingers in unforgettable moments.
Though it seems all good things must come to an end. Beth had witnessed this time and time again in her life. Her biological mother, Alma, chess, chess. Losing to Borgov crushed her. She was spiralling and she knew it. She wanted to run away from everyone and everything. Just being in the hotel, benign around people was suffocating. Beth needed a drink.
Yet, things never go to plan do they? Opening her hotel door, she saw Cleo, fully dressed now sitting on the bed staring at her. In all honesty, Beth had completely forgotten about Cleo, but seeing her now, on the bed they shared mere hours ago, waiting expectantly for her with open arms broke the last straw. Beth heard the door click shut behind her and the tears just built up, one by one on the rim of her eyes and then fell in streams.
Beth didn’t even attempt to wipe away her tears, she just stayed rooted at the doorway, silently falling apart. She didn’t even cry this hard when her mother died. Piece by piece, Beth broke down, and harsh ragged gasps filled the hotel room, and the world felt gray, dead, and cold.
And then, it wasn’t. A warm embrace, a candle in the hallway of darkness, a steaming mug of tea during a stormy winter night, Cleo. She was there, arms firmly wrapped around Beth, holding her together. Beth knew deep down she would glue herself back together eventually, her past had enough evidence of this. But, to have someone be there to help, to not be alone during these dark moments was something she had never really experienced. Beth didn’t understand why having Cleo here made falling apart easier, why she felt more pain than if she were to face this alone. But also, why she felt okay with breaking down.
In the arms of her lover? No, it was much too soon to differentiate between a one-night stand, a drunken fling, and something more… But this feeling of safety, of comfort in someone rather than something was new and Beth wanted Cleo to stay in her life. Sobs fell into whimpers as Beth exhausted herself against Cleo, letting her lead her to the bed.
“Here, drink some water, let me take care of you as I am sure we will be caring for each other a lot more in the future” Cleo professed. “Stay here, I know you are tired, but I also know you haven’t eaten since yesterday night, so I will go get some food and come back.”
Beth wanted to protest, to reach out and pull Cleo into bed with her and rest her head on her chest, finding comfort in the tempo of her breathing. But, drained of energy, Beth did no such thing and she trusted Cleo so she waited in a room that felt colder with an occupation of one. She looked up at the ceiling, seeing no chess board she was left to her thoughts alone. What did Cleo mean by we will be caring for each other a lot more in the future? Did Cleo see Beth in her future? She wanted Cleo in her future. But thoughts of Cleo quickly morphed into Borgov and chess and losing, losing, losing.
Hollow, that’s what Beth felt. This empty shell, the goal of beating Borgov, futile. She felt worthless. *Click* Footsteps brought her back to reality.
“Hi…” Beth murmured, “I-”
“It’s fine love, you don’t need to say anything. I hope you like italian” Cleo settled beside Beth with two cartons of food, not caring about the white bed sheets. “Beth, I saw the end of your game and I wanted to say that this loss does not mean you will not win in the future. I do not know about chess, but that night at Benny’s has shown me everything I need to know. You are not a single game, Beth”
Beth attempted to process Cleo’s words, but how could she do such things without knowing anything about chess? Without seeing how tragic of a loss she had endeavoured. Yet, here was Cleo, looking at her through long eyelashes, with such sincerity it was overwhelming.
“What did you mean by taking care of each other in the future?” questioned Beth.
“Hm? Well whatever you want it to mean. Maybe we will only cross paths in Paris, between your chess matches and my modelling. Or maybe, we will pursue what we had yesterday night further. Hm, how do the people say? I believe it to be, your move Beth”
But, Beth didn’t know what move to make. She didn’t know during her match with Borgov, and she didn’t know now. Instead, she just ate another spoonful of spaghetti, letting the statement hang in the air. They finished their food in silence, Beth’s mind whirling with possibilities.