Just a little something I wrote today. I'm obsessed with this movie.

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Pitch Perfect. All characters mentioned are not of my own creation, etc, etc.

Jesse opened his mouth to speak just as the Trebles were called to the stage. Blinking sadly, he shut his mouth, wanting to say more but knowing he didn't have time. He turned away from her, and his hands clutched the microphone as he took his position at the edge of the stage. Beca said nothing more.

And he knew. He knew whatever they had was over. They were done with her movication; done with their jokes in the studio; done with everything. She had pushed him away and he had done exactly the same. His attempt to make her see her faults had instead forced her into reclusion. He should have known that his words would do that. Beca had never appeared to be the kind of girl to take criticism particularly well. She certainly didn't like getting help from anyone. He remembered the time he had tried to help her with her Intro to Philosophy class and she had strongly resisted his help. Beca Mitchell was a highly independent person who preferred to do things on her own, and now they were… whatever they were. Friends? No, they probably weren't even friends. He had done it. He had ruined their friendship. And he hated himself for it.

He was singing. He was flirting with an audience member. And he was stealing glances at Beca and dully noticing that she didn't seem the least bit fazed. The Trebles finished on a resounding high, and Jesse let Benji lead them to their seats. He sank into the chair beside his friend and waited patiently as the host introduced the Bellas. He smiled.

Their set began with Aubrey and Chloe, as their set always did. But unexpectedly, the Bellas erupted into a ruthless powerhouse. The crowd went crazy, and Jesse sighed. The Trebles had definitely lost; he knew it. The Bellas were only one song into their set and he knew: he had lost the competition, and he had lost Beca.

He hadn't meant to push her away, of course. He had simply meant to show her what she was doing. He had only wanted to help her, and she had only pushed him away. It was all she ever did. She ran away. He remembered that night they had their first movication. It was the first of many, and just like all the others, she had shied away from him when some unspoken bond seemed to form between them. More than once, they had been on the verge of starting something, but then she'd pull back, afraid. And he couldn't help her; couldn't love her. She wouldn't let him.

He ducked his head. He couldn't take it. He couldn't take losing her. He couldn't take loving her anymore. It was too hard. Love was supposed to be a two-way street, and it was clear to him that his feelings weren't reciprocated. She had basically told him as much, that day she was arrested. She had essentially told him again the day of semi-finals. Time and time again, the fact that they were not in a relationship was thrown in his face, and he couldn't take it. He couldn't. His head fell into the palm of his hand; he couldn't love Beca Mitchell. He had to learn to let go. Somehow.

A beat he faintly recognized sounded in his ears, but he attributed it to nothing more than the evil inner workings of his mind telling him not to give up on her. His brain was teasing him with that song. But then there was her voice.

Won't you come see about me?

I'll be alone, dancing you know it, baby

His head shot up immediately. His mouth fell open in shock and it was then that he realized: she was staring at him—or, at least, in his direction. He glanced around him as if to make sure her father wasn't around him. And he wasn't. And she was still staring. She was staring at him—singing to him.

Tell me your troubles and doubts

Givin' me everything inside and out

Don't you forget about me

He shook his head in disbelief. She had watched the movie. There was no other explanation. She had watched the movie the entire way through and understood the significance of the final few minutes. Perhaps she had even cried watching it. Whatever her reaction was, it had impacted her enough to sing it in their set. And it had impacted her enough to sing it directly to him.

As you walk on by

Will you call my name?

As you walk on by

Will you call my name?

He gave a small, barely discernible nod. Donald looked over at him, but Jesse didn't notice. Beca was still watching him, and he smiled. He hadn't lost her after all. He thought he had lost her; he had told her he was done. He had closed the door in her face. He had walked away. And yet she hadn't given up, as he thought she might. Instead, she had decided that whatever they had was worth fighting for, and he beamed happily as they locked eyes.

As you walk on by

Will you call my name?

Slowly, shaking his head to conceal a laugh, Jesse raised his fist into the air. He didn't look up; his hand was enough to prove that he understood. When he did look up, she was grinning madly.

I say la

la la la la…

The stage erupted in light, and Beca's fist shot into the air before lowering to point at him.

At him.

She was pointing at him.

And he knew. He knew that he hadn't lost her. After months of pointing at her and getting nothing in response, she was pointing at him. She was finally letting him in; letting down one of the many walls surrounding her heart. He grinned widely as she broke eye contact with him to focus on delivering the best Finals performance in a capella history.

He was the first person on his feet when they finished, clapping and cheering louder than the rest of the Trebles and certainly louder than others around him. He waited impatiently for them to abandon the stage, his gaze fixed on Beca as she led her group to the row of seats behind his. Turning behind him, he grinned gloatingly.

"Told you. Endings are the best part," he said teasingly.

"You're such a weirdo," she said. Her hands rested on his shoulders for a fleeting moment before they pulled him closer to her in a passionate kiss. One hand slipped around the base of his neck while the other cupped his face. After several moments, her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands found the curve of her waist. She smiled against his lips, and he knew he was in love.

I... so... yes. The end.