ten-sentence drabbles: part one
To make up for the lack of updates, I decided to ask you guys on Tumblr to send me in lines or a word for me to write a ten-sentence mini-fic on. These are some that I've written (based on lines/quotes. Word-based ones will come later, but if you want to read them now, check my Tumblr page) thus far. I've got a ton more to write, so stay tuned and check my blog for more parts xx
"For my part I know nothing with any certainty but the sight of the stars makes me dream"
Beca never thought the two would get to this point— laying in the back of her truck, watching airplanes soar into the night and the stars flicker on the rooftop of a parking garage near LAX. Jesse's holding her in his arms, humming along to whatever pop hit was on the radio, his fingers threading through her hair. She's warm and safe and, most importantly, she's happy. She's happy that she's there, in LA, with him— that they're both pursuing their dreams. It seems all too perfect, really, how they end up like this.
"I'm surprised you haven't brought up how rom-com this is," he muses, taking in the way she rolls her eyes at him.
She lingers on the question for a bit, contemplating its meaning. "I think I'm okay with it."
"Honest?"
"Honest."
"Sunday morning rain is falling, steal some covers share some skin"
(Note: This line is pretty reminiscent of my fic/chapter, everything's the same (when the rain comes down). This is a "sequel" of sorts, if you don't mind ;-)
The thing about sharing a place— specifically, a bed— with Jesse, is that he is impossibly, entirely too cheerful in the mornings.
He's up by six-thirty on weekdays and seven-thirty on weekends. She'll wake up to the smell of burnt toast and the sound of Jesse singing to their cat. Sure, it's adorable for a while, but over time, she finds that she just wants to sleep in peace until noon.
So it's a surprise when she wakes up one rainy morning, at precisely ten o'clock, and his warm skin is still on hers. Pippin is snoring at the foot of their bed, his tail tickling the arch of Beca's foot, and Jesse is still cuddled around her petite frame. Maybe it's a dream, she thinks to herself. Everything is much too quiet and blissful for it to not be.
But then he pulls her closer, kisses her neck, and mumbles something sweet into her ear, something special for her ears only; that's when she decides that it definitely not a dream.
And she's happy that it isn't.
"When you hear my voice, when you say my name, may it never bring you pain."
Jesse's never seen her cry.
Beca's strong-willed, feisty, stubborn. She tells him about her long-term ex from high school and how he broke her heart, but she reassures him that she never loved him as much as he loved her. It was a phase, she says, but four-years isn't a phase in Jesse's eyes.
So when she gets the news about his death three years into college, she breaks down crying. She calls him when this happens, and he rushes over to let her sob into his shoulder as he rocks her in his lap.
"This is so fucking stupid, I don't know why I'm crying," she gives out a shuddery sigh, nuzzling deeper into his body, "it wasn't even, I don't know…"
He gets it; he doesn't push the subject and lets her just feel. It's in that moment when he vows to show her just how much he cares for her— just how much he loves her— every single day.
As long as she's lets him, he promises to keep her safe.
"Just because some people don't love you the way you love them, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have."
As expected, dating Beca takes time.
Loving Beca, however, does not. It only took them their second date for him to realize this, when he took her out for ice cream and they talked all night, too indulged in the conversation to notice that their dessert had melted. He's patient with her, fully understanding that she was still nursing relationships and fulfilling her own needs.
She doesn't tell him "I love you"s or give him random gifts like he does throughout their relationship, none of the typical, lovey-dovey stuff he's into. He's not expecting her to, but even at the darkest hours of the night, he can't help but feel a tad bit under-appreciated; in the loneliest of times, he wonders if she even likes him.
But over time, he finds it in the way she tries her hardest to stay awake during movications, in the way she lets him listen to her private mixes, in the way she rolls her eyes affectionately at his nerdy quirks. It's in the way she likes to jump on him from behind and kiss him when he's least expecting it, and in the way she grumpily force-feeds him soup (and he hates soup) when he's sick. It's in the way they argue and cry and break down.
It's the little things that make him realize that her love was bigger than the dramatized, goal-worthy "love" that he believed from movies; it's the little things that make him realize that she loves him.
"Distance makes the heart grow fonder."
She doesn't realize she's in love with Jesse until three months after he's gone off to Los Angeles for film school.
She spends her days texting him, calling him, or videochatting him. It's easy- it's always been easy with him- to keep their relationship going, despite them being two thousand miles away from each other.
But she misses him much more than she anticipated. She finds herself playing The Breakfast Club in the background when she's alone, only to stop the film right before the final scene in order to avoid the pang in her chest that she feels just hearing their song. She declines going to the movies with the girls because Jesse's the only person who knows exactly how to keep her awake during the two hours of moving pictures. She, stupidly, can't even go to sleep without cuddling or wearing his Treble hoodie that smelled like him.
The realization– that she was undoubtedly, pathetically in love with the shaggy-haired nerd– comes to her when she least expects it— when she walks past an elderly couple wearing matching Star Wars t-shirts.
That'll be me and Jesse one day, she thinks to herself.
That's when it hits her.
"Together we are golden, everything will be alright; Together we are golden as long as there's you at my side."
The Trebles consistently finish second at every competition they enter with the Bellas. Jesse's not resentful; in fact, he thinks he's the luckiest guy ever to be witnessing the Bellas make history. His fellow Trebles, however, do not share the same thoughts as him, and eventually, the feeling of failure begins to invade his thoughts.
It's not until she finds him in his room, attempting to calm his panicked breaths, when she notices just how major the stress was eating at him.
She holds him in her lap, gently caressing his scalp, letting him ride out the waves of anxiety and uncertainty. No, you're not a failure, she assures him, and it's the gentlest she's ever been with him.
"You're far from that, you're… You're the reason," she pauses, like her voice suddenly gave out, "the Bellas may have the trophies, but you're the reason why I'm still here— at Barden, with the girls and my dad and you."
"And to me, that's not what a failure is- Far from it. I owe you the world."
"His smile is contagious but so are his tears"
When Beca says yes to marrying him, Jesse smiles himself silly for an entire year after.
It wasn't a reluctant 'yes,' per se; it was more like the, "I love you but if we're going to get married, this shit better not be a big ordeal" kind of yes. With that in mind, they make sure that the wedding is a quiet and simple affair, with only their closest friends and family in attendance in the convenience of their backyard.
When Beca peeks out the window of the kitchen and sees his still-smiling face at the altar, she's never felt more sure about saying yes to anybody in the world. Cynthia-Rose has to tell her to stop smiling "like some lovesick little bitch" so that she can gloss Beca's lips one last time. She can't help it, no matter how hard she tries.
But then she sees his face- full of pure joy and shock and love- when she steps out of the back door, and it's like something catches in her throat and she can't breathe anymore. Jesse's already wiping the tears from his eyes, and, like some sort of fast-acting contagion, her eyes coat with tears and she can't see much of anything except for the lasting image of his lit-up face.
"I can't believe you've managed to pull this shit before I got to the fucking altar," she sniffs grudgingly, making her friends and families laugh in response.
He grins and kisses her cheek, tears still in his eyes, and soon enough, there's not a dry eye in attendance.