A/N: I've got a ton of one shot ideas which I've decided to collate into one big story altogether. I've basically got one whole page of notes of ideas so yea. I'd probably write sequels or chapter-fics based on any of these one-shots but for now I have zero time so more one shots? Another shameless call for reviews and shoutout for my tumblr (anticlimatickid)
+ "Do you got room for one more troubled soul?"
-x-
Beca constantly finds herself stumbling out of clubs after her gigs. She's used to the lifestyle – not one she had hoped for when she said she wanted to make music, but DJing and playing her mixes in clubs pays well so she doesn't complain. But going around mashing songs just doesn't add up to what she'd always looked forward to when she thought life after she moved to LA. She may be the hottest DJ in town, but she still crashes from the high of the crowd after, because she's not making music and this leaves her empty every night.
Another rejection sits on her phone screen as she starts the engine of her car. It's doesn't bring tears or disappointment like the first time she sees the same formatted response, but it does spark frustration. Beca feels her insides twist and clench as she grits her teeth, her knuckles turning white against the leather as her grip tightens.
-x-
Speeding down the highway doesn't help, and she hears the friction between wheels against the road as she slams the breaks, cursing when she sees a hint of a human being in front of her.
"It's fine if you have a death wish," Beca grunts as she steps out of the four-wheel, "but it'd be nice if you kept me out of it." She looks around the barren road before noticing the redhead standing well and unscratched in front of her, her eyes standing out in the dark.
"I was trying to hitch a ride," the girl answers, snapping Beca out of her trance and shifting her gaze in embarrassment. She sees tear stains across the ginger's face and purses her lips to keep herself from saying something sarcastic to rub salt to the wound before nodding and sticking a thumb back at her vehicle.
The corners of the girl's lips lift, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes, and Beca tries her best to ignore how the sight of that makes her uncomfortable and bothered.
-x-
"Where to?" she asks, a few miles down the road.
"Anywhere you'd take me," and a shrug of her shoulders are all Beca gets in response. So she just keeps her feet on the gas pedal till she runs out of track and is forced to make a turn out.
"Can I turn on the radio?" she hears her newly picked up passenger ask. Beca doesn't mind the radio normally, but tonight's different. Tonight, music reminds her of the dream she hasn't quite achieved after so long and her unworthiness, so Beca says no.
She hears the ginger humming to David Guetta a few minutes after, and she tries to hide the smile spreading across her face by pressing her lips tight against each other.
-x-
"Ginger," Beca calls as she navigates the vehicle out of the gas station.
"I've got a name," the stranger protests, but its met with a force grabbing the notebook out of her hands and a grunt of "and I've got a need named privacy." But it doesn't stop the ginger from singing the rest of the lyrics she'd seen and repeating the ones she'd sung before, and Beca doesn't mind, at least not as much as before, because it sounds better than the voice she's had in her head when she'd written it down.
"Chloe," a word foreign to the lyrics she'd jotted down, "that's my name." Beca nods in understanding that the girl was introducing herself, not singing, though it sounded like melody to her ears. She'd been fine not knowing, really, but still, the DJ finds herself repeating the name in her head countless times throughout the drive.
-x-
"Stop the car!" Chloe screeches, and Beca halts, just in time for the redhead to fling herself out of the vehicle, a can of beer they'd picked up at the gas station in hand. Beca takes that as a cue for her part as her chauffeur to end, but the door on her side swings open and she feels cool fingers finding her own and another palm slamming against her as she is pulled out of her car.
"The sun's about to rise," she can feel the redhead's breath, a gust of hot air wet against her ear lobe as she leans in to whisper before climbing onto the roof of the four-wheel and tugging Beca after her.
Beca doesn't enjoy body contact, but she doesn't complain when Chloe rests the weight on her shoulder as they watch the sunrise. The rays hurts her eyes, but it makes Chloe's shine so much brighter. Those irises are still dull, as eyelids loom over them, but captivating all the same. The peaceful silence settling over the two who carries stories they aren't quite ready to share just yet, lulls the red head to sleep.
Beca doesn't feel the need to cry over rejections, not anymore, so she finds herself comfortable with wiping away the disappointment of others. Maybe, just maybe, Beca thinks, as she rubs a thumb over the tear stains on the redhead's cheek, that this stallion has room for just one more troubled soul.