She hears everything. She hears the drunken men and women clamoring about, she hears them wail and cry and laugh and jump and shout in their alcoholic stupor. She hears the music from the jukebox, the toilets flushing, fist fighting, puking, footsteps, and the endless questions of 'What would you like?' And 'Anything else?' So, it should go without saying that when the door creaks open and a man steps through the dirty threshold of the tiny tavern, she hears it. Oh, yes. But that doesn't means she pays attention to any of it. All the noise is just simply there. She pays no mind to it, just listens idly as another drink is knocked back.
If she is surprised that the man sits down next to her, she doesn't show it.
"How many have you had?" the man leans forward with concern as she gives a noncommittal grunt and tosses back another. The bartender comes back with more. "Fine, then. What are you doing here?"
Her smirk just peeks out. "I'm drowning my sorrows." A dry laugh pushes past her lips.
"C'mon, Beca, I'm serious. What happened?"
"Fuck off, Jesse. I want to be alone with my goddamned beer."
Jesse takes the glass from her hands and waves down the bartender. "No more for her. Not tonight." The woman grudgingly nods, a bit miffed at having lost the best contributor of the night. Jesse turns back to Beca. "C'mon, Bec, talk to me. What happened?"
Beca sighs. "Just some crap with Dad and the Stepmonster. No biggie. Now go away," she says, her drunkenness slurring her words.
"I know you don't mean that. You're just drunk. I'll get you home." He helps her stand, then tosses some money on the bar. Looking back to her, he grabs her hand and tugs. She pitifully pushes him away, at which point he pushes his left arm under her knees and his right under her back before carrying her out.
They leave Beca's car in the lot ('Beca, someone will come pick the fucking car up, I'd rather you not die'). She falls asleep strewn, not attractively, across the passenger seat and the console.
Soon Jesse pulls up to Beca's dorm.
"Becs, wake up."
"Mmm, cn yuh jssst crree me?" Used to Beca's drunken slurs, he knows she wants him to carry her again. So he does. And as she grossly sneezes and tosses on her dorm bed, he knows one thing: shit is going down. And he needs to do something about it.
Fuck. Who decided letting her drink was a good idea? Everyone knows that she can hold her liquor, but only until morning. Shit.
So that's how Jesse finds her- in the bathroom across the hall, puking.
"You okay?"
"What the hell does it look like?"
He smiles sheepishly and takes a seat next to her. "Sorry. But, while you're puke-free, wanna tell me what happened?"
She groans. "Ugh. No."
"C'mon, Beca. Talk to me," he pleads.
She is silent. They sit there in silence for the rest of the day, with only the sounds of her puking and Jesse shuffling to grab her hair.
Meet me in my room. 10:00 am
That's all that Jesse's text said the next morning. So at 9:45 Beca got dressed and slouched her way to his dorm. She knocks once and hears some banging and a . . . splash?
"Oh, shit," is the last word uttered before a sopping wet Benji and Jesse open the door.
"Jesse. . . Benji. . . What did you do?" she asks slowly.
The boys look at each other before Benji says, "Good morning, Beca. I have to go, uhm. . . Go. Have fun!" With that he rushes down the hall and out of the building.
". . .Okay? Anyway, why am I here?"
Jesse ushers her in and closes the door behind her. She makes to move toward his bed when she steps on paper. Not just one. Like, a stack. All cut into strips. And in the middle of the room? A kiddie pool. "What the hell?"
"Two days ago, you told me you were drowning your sorrows. I know that you can't always tell me what's bothering you, so I figured I could help you drown your sorrows. . . Literally." Beca doesn't say anything, so Jesse continues to ramble. "You see, you write anything that comes to mind down on the paper, and then together we place them in the water until they sink. You can write them in pen, so the ink will bleed into the water, and you can sort of . . . let go of your secrets. If you want to share what you've written with me, you can. I figured it might be easier if you don't actually have to say it. And of you don't want me to read it, that's cool, too. . . Beca?" He finally stops to look at her face. She is staring at the pool.
Silence falls for a moment or two.
"Thank you," she whispers. Then she sits down, grabs a pen, and begins to write. She hands it to Jesse.
Sheila wants me to move in with them after college, become a lawyer. I want to make music.
Jesse looks to Beca, sits down, and takes her hands. He wraps hers around the paper, and his hands cover hers. Then he gently pushes their hands into the water. They let go and watch the ink bleed and, eventually, the paper sink.
This is how they spend the day. Sometimes she would hand the paper to him before they would place it in the water, sometimes not. Either way, they were silent, sneaking glances at each other.
At 12:34 am exactly, Beca takes the last strip of paper from the pile.
She breaks the hours-long silence. "Can we not drown this one?" she whispers. Jesse nods. Beca folds it once and slides the paper across the carpet over to Jesse.
He picks it up and reads. Then, slowly, he lowers it to the ground and lifts his hand to her cheek. Her hands move to his neck, and Jesse leans closer. His teeth gently catch her bottom lip and lightly tug as his hands move under her knees. He lays her on the bed. She looks at him, and he to her, and they know they aren't ready. So they continue to kiss, and eventually they fall asleep.
As the sun rises, a ray of light streams through the window and illuminates the now-forgotten note. By the light of the sunrise, one can just make out the letters:
I love you
AN: Alright, here it is. Very random idea I had after posting the tenth chapter of SLYAN. As always, much thanks to AJ (thecurlingiron). If you liked this, you'll love her. Check her out. Reviews aren't required, but greatly appreciated!
-Aimee