This was so not the plan. Beca couldn't quite believe that she was here at this very moment- it was an out of body experience if she'd ever had one.

"Next!" A voice called. Beca stepped up to the counter and the bored looking teller that manned it. "Where to?" Beca took up at the moving board just beyond the elderly man's head. It reminded her of those electronic display boards behind the cashiers at movie theatres that Jesse had always dragged her to. Except this time, it was times and places, not box office hits.

She turned her attention back to the display that was actually in front of her. "Atlanta," she huffed, obviously entirely done with the task at hand.

Beca found her seat easily, despite the late hour. She was determined to be there for her nagging boyfriend, even if it took all night. And day. And sleep? She looked at the cold window beside her, settling her stuff under her seat. Yeah, that was definitely not happening. She sighed, head back as she glanced to her right, noticing a girl struggle with a singular piece of luggage as she made her way down the aisle.

"Stupid thing." The girl said, obviously fed up with running her bag into every possible seat as she traveled passed Beca.

Same, was all Beca could think as she watched the girl who was wearing squirrel pajama bottoms as she headed further towards the back of the bus.

Sleep seemed to be an obvious choice of activity at this hour, but for some reason Beca almost had an itch– all of the sudden it was all her hands could do– to write, so she pulled out a napkin and pen in hand. The words came easier to her now than they had in months. I guess if she was forced to stay up this late, she might as well see if she could get something out of it, even with an exhausted brain. She glanced around. A beat began to form in her head. She could almost feel the music beginning to form in her head. If only she could get her hands on her mixing equipment...

The napkin was running out of much needed room. She fumbled around for her notebook that she knew she'd placed in her bag. Even as hurried as she was to get to the bus station, she wouldn't forget it.

But her fingers didn't feel the worn leather of her little black book as she became more frantic in her search through her bag. She reached down and placed in on her lap, growing desperate as she tried to peer into the dark bag that she knew had to contain all of her song ideas. But she was wrong. The Beca Mitchell was wrong.

It wasn't the only thing she was wrong about tonight.

She sighed, head falling back onto her seat. She looked around, wondering if she looked as helpless as she felt. Her eyes flickered to her right, where a middle aged man was typing something with one finger with his phone placed on his lap. Her phone. Of course. She scrambled to write down the first few lines she had created in her head already.

I'm on the night bus
I'm thinking about us
The streetlights go fleeting by

Creative. She thought, with an internal eye roll at herself. Whatever. She'd come up with an amazing instrumental track to back it up later. It was a good start. Better than she'd had in months. It seemed like nothing in her life recently had inspired her to write anything, and then, suddenly, when Jesse fucking started complaining that he didn't see her enough so she lost her mind and hopped on a night bus at two am to come down and see him, she could miraculously write again. Huh. Figures.

The man next to her let out a hearty laugh, which prompted her to take her attention away from her needy boyfriend and toward the man. She smiled to herself. The next lines of her song.

The man sat next to me
Is texting somebody
I wonder what that feels like

This was almost too easy. She was surprised she came up with this much so fast. She leaned back, her head colliding with the seat rest as she did so, willing more words to come to her.

One Minute. It's been two. Definitely going on five minutes now.

Literally nothing.

She thought back to Jesse, about how he begged her to be more attentive, more responsive in their relationship. It just didn't feel right. None of it really had. Afterall, he was the one who was always in control in their relationship. God knew how many movie nights she'd been dragged to.

She wanted to support his dream, she really did. But she didn't want to hear the Jaws theme song one more time with the lights off she was going to scream. Or spontaneously combust. Or both. Probably both.

Maybe I'm reckless
But I just can't shake this
It follows me home at night
At night

It's getting clearer every mile we ride

He was attractive, sure. But for lack of better words, she didn't make her heart sing. She couldn't see him and her sharing an apartment back in LA or anywhere for that matter; that's why she declined his offer when she first moved out. Something about wanting to get her bearings before she had a partner. A life partner. Oh god. Was this it? Was this all she got in her life? Just a slightly quirky movie boy and a mid sized apartment where she'd struggle to let him hold her at night. She was too... well, Beca for that. Settling just wasn't her style. She grit her teeth. The bus slowed to a stop. Her eyes brimmed them with tears. She thought she could smile them away, as the rain went down the window pane, but they fell too, along with the empty feeling she had in her chest. She knew what she had to do. She wiped away a stray tear, clearing her vision to stare at her phone screen once again.

Suddenly I know
That I'm on my way home
To you for the last time

Just writing that, she knew, you know? She saw it on paper (well, phone screen, but close enough) and she knew those words rang true.

It's not what you wanted
But I know you got this
And you're gonna be fine
Oh, I've just been watching
The world as it's turning
And that's what it feels like
Suddenly I know
That I'm on my way home
To you for the last time

Beca shifted in her seat, attempting to become more comfortable with the realization she'd just revealed. Their relationship was something he was always pushing, and it just seemed like after she'd forgiven him via song the only next logical step had been to give him what he'd really wanted– from the beginning: her. So she did. And god, it was so easy. It was so easy to let this boy care for her, and it was so easy to let him dictate the dates they had (because god, if Beca had to do it– had to do anything really– she might spontaneously combust) and nearly everything else because it all had just seemed like the way to go.

She heard a collective groan from other passengers as the overhead lights flickered on, signaling another stop. Figuring that this time would be as good as any to empty her bladder without worrying about the unseen bags and limbs in the dark, she got up and looked towards the back of the bus, hoping to signal the man to her right that she needed to go. To her relief, the man was still fully awake, actively tapping away at his phone so Beca just had to clear her throat to clear her path to the isle. She did just that; awkwardly leaning over him to get to a place where even she could stand properly. She passed seats, one after another, fingers grasping the edges to keep her in line as the bus began to roll again.

She chuckled as a couple, grimaced as they looked around, the girl frowning as she looked toward the source of the light and Beca, as she passed.

I'm on the night bus
That's crawling with lovers
Who hide from the cold white light

Beca had finally reached the back of the bus, the brightest of the lights flickering out as the bus left the nearest station. She'd stopped short of a young man arms crossing as she realized that she was not the only one who'd had the brilliant idea to use the facilities while the lights were at their brightest. Beca gazed out the window, wanting to study the scenery but instead finding herself gazing at her own features instead.

I see my reflection
Dazed and complacent
She follows me home at night
At night
It's getting clearer every mile we ride

She took a deep sigh, prompting the guy in front of her to crane his neck around and give her a pointed stare. But it wasn't the bathroom she was worried about, nor was it Jesse's reaction to the news; it was what she was going to do with herself when she'd actually arrived in Atlanta. Surely, her dad and/or step monster would let her stay in the house. She looked at the time on her now low battery phone. It was just after 3 am. She still had another 4 hours on this freaking bus. She unlocked her phone, staring at the lyrics for her chorus once again. It was pretty damn good, if she did say so herself. She began tapping an array of possible rhythms on the side of her thigh, muttering the lyrics as she went.

Suddenly I know
That I'm on my way home
To you for the last time
It's not what you wanted
But I know you got this
And you're gonna be fine
Oh, I've just been watching
The world as it's turning
And that's what it feels like
Suddenly I know

Beca exited the enclosed space with the toilet, finally satisfied with the beat she'd come up with on her trip. She smiled to herself then, coming back down the aisle. For once in her life, she'd made a decision. A real, honest to goodness conclusion that she'd reached all on her own.

That I'm on my way home
To you for the last time

Red hair blurred in the corner of her vision. Curls were sprawled all over the window pane, the girls face obscured by how she chose to rest– in the crook of her elbow.

"Chloe?" Beca questioned to the girl that was slouched in an oversized dark green sweatshirt,

Oops. She was obviously asleep. Still, Beca peered down at the girl, trying to see her more clearly through the hood that covered nearly half her face. Stop, Beca, the voice inside her told her. Things we're beginning to look creepy. So she took another tentative step down the aisle towards her seat as she quickly glanced around. No one had noticed. Or, at least if they had, they weren't looking at her funny.

So her curiosity won out; she sidestepped into the girl that looked like Chloe's row, as a very determined older woman that was coming at her down the aisle. She glanced down. From the closer proximity she could see that it was definitely Chloe. Her insides began to woke up suddenly, all at once. Her heart began to pound at the excitement as she registered what this meant. She hadn't seen Chloe in nearly 5 years! A sense of dread washed over her, almost as fast as the excitement did. She was instantaneously overcome with all her memories of the girl, all of them warm and inviting, just like the girl herself.

At night
At night
At night
It's getting clearer every mile we ride

Beca plopped down in the adjacent seat, careful not to wake the angelic sleeping girl. She bit her lip. The forest green sweatshirt now so obviously displayed "The Barden Bellas" in signature font, and was offset by squirrel themed bottoms. She laughed: that was the most Chloe thing she'd seen in awhile; she couldn't believe she hadn't guessed earlier.

God, what were the chances? What were the chances that the Chloe Beale would happen to be here, all alone, after all this time? She was still beaming and she knew it.

But in a flash, it was gone, overrun with anxious thoughts.

Did Chloe hate her?

They hadn't talked in probably a good eight months, and it was entirely the brunettes doing. Chloe had called her and texted her and even sent her a few funny snapchats playing with her dogs and Beca had seen every last one of them. But somehow, they were all left without responses. She'd opened them at work, or she'd been in the middle of a really good mix, or Jesse would call her and she'd feel more obligated to pick it up; after all, being a good girlfriend had to come before everything else, right?

She'd neglected everything else in his wake, though. Nevermind Chloe, she'd lost touch with nearly every Bella, save for the occasional call from Emily to get her rolling with some lyrics to her latest mix.

Well shit.

Now she felt awful. She turned to go, not wanting to upset the likely very sleep deprived girl with her presence when she awoke.

Beca reached her seat and slid into it, head in her hands. How the hell would anyone, let alone sunshine girl Chloe Beale forgive her? She grabbed her phone, the words on her notes app now dancing in her vision, taunting her.

Suddenly I know
That I'm on my way home
To you for the last time
It's not what you wanted
But I know you got this
And you're gonna be fine
Oh, I've just been watching
The world as it's turning
And that's what it feels like

She truly had no one left at home that had cared for her. After not seeing everyone everyday for so long, she'd managed to push them all away. She spun her phone around in her hands, her thumb and index finger trapping the device as she rotated it with her other hand. It wasn't her home, anymore, really. It hadn't felt that way in a long time. She'd always clung to Jesse like he was her last link to the place she'd grown up in, and due to her neglect, he really was.

And she was about to let him go too. But this, this was a connection she wanted to break. She was sure of it. It was one that wasn't really even there anymore.

So what did she have left?

Her thoughts went back to her former co-captain, resting soundly in a few rows back. Chloe was the exception– to nearly everything, really. To lingering touches and getting her to sing in showers and to letting Beca keep her up all night talking. She'd just lost touch with the girl; not forgotten her. Who could forget a girl like Chloe Beale?

She was always the one that had made Barden feel like home, not Jesse.

Suddenly I know
That I'm on my way home
To you for the last time

Chloe was like a good melody. Sometimes gone, but never forgotten. It always returned; it was just that catchy.

And there she was: just a few seats behind the brunette. Beca abruptly got up, not bothering to give the texting man a warning ahead of time before she climbed over him and towards the girl. She plopped down in the seat next to the singer, smile returning.

Once she was settled, she pulled out her dying phone. It was at 2%. She quickly pulled up her and Jesse's messages from a week ago with shaking hands. She was worried that if her phone died right there and then that she'd eventually talk herself out of what she was about to do once her phone had charge in it. She clicked the box to pull the keyboard up, her thumbs scrambling to type out her message.

'Jess– I just don't think we're working anymore.'

She tapped the send button repeatedly, re-reading the text as it went through.

The redhead in front of her shifted in her sleep. Jeez, she was beautiful, even in her sleep.

The sound of a text coming through an already open conversation sounded, prompting Beca to tear her eyes away from the girl and back towards the screen.

'Becs– I feel the same way.'

And then, darkness and a loading symbol that meant a broader conversation would have to wait.

The redhead opened her circulian eyes.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

"B-Becs?"