(Later that Tuesday...)
God, why can't they just make automatic sorting machines?
This is the 21st Century, for crying out loud. iTunes exists. Seriously. Why did there have to be so many damned CDs? She could swear that Luke messes up at least five crates of them, just so interns like her would actually have work to do. It's either that, or Luke doesn't know his alphabet. Well, now that she thinks about it...
Her mind is digressing the weirdest shit, since she doesn't how how else to deal with his presence in the room.
If she stops thinking about Luke's literacy, or Stacie's cute nail polish during practice, or Fat Amy/Patricia's real, real name, she might start thinking about how the Bellas had looked at her this morning, the implications of which would lead to her thinking about why they were staring at her, why her eyes are puffy and red, why she doesn't want to talk about it. All roads lead to the guy on her left, holding a bunch of CDs made by artists whose names start with the letters A-F.
And then, she would proceed to thinking about how he most likely asked Luke to change shifts, and she would start thinking about the text he sent her early this morning. What he meant by that cryptic line that gave her hope as much as it took it away.
She'd like to think a part of him still cares based on that one "I know", but she woke up from a nightmare with the idea that it could very well be the other way around.
She doesn't know how she'd be able to take that.
So, yeah. Between thinking about (more like overanalyzing) Jesse, and thinking about how cute Justin Bieber is when she's shoving him right next to Selena Gomez because she can't fucking reach the B shelves, she'd much rather think about how cute Justin Bieber is.
She looks at the station clock. 11:46. Luke will be out any—
"Jesse. Lunch time."
From behind one of the shelves, she sees Jesse acknowledge the request with a nod, and head on out, without a word. He hasn't said anything, hasn't looked at her. He hasn't acknowledged her presence, which is, okay, she deserves this. She deserves a whole lot worse, actually. She hurt her best friend, who had done no wrong, twice. (It was actually three, but she's bad at math.) He deserves to get mad at her. Yell at her, or something. In fact, she really wish he would yell at her, because then, at least they'd be talking.
Instead, each moment of silence is like a knife twisted in her stomach.
...
He comes back with Luke's usual, proceeds to the booth to give it to Luke. Beca can just hear them as she goes by the desk for more CDs.
"Thanks," Luke says. When Jesse doesn't reply and silently proceeds back to the desk, Luke calls him out again, going outside.
"Hey," he says, hanging by the door panel, "something wrong? You haven't said a word since yesterday."
Beca is able briefly glance up to see Jesse rub the bridge of his nose, before he turns to Luke with a polite "I'm fine. It's just the stress. But thanks for the concern."
She can always tell when he's lying through his teeth, especially because Jesse is not a liar. Her gut wrenches at the thought.
She's wearing her Star Wars shirt today. The one that had garnered his attention so long ago. But even that hasn't been able to get his attention. It does, however, catches Luke's.
"Hey," Luke says, suddenly perking up, "I didn't know you like Star Wars." And he points to her shirt, ignoring Jesse's sudden tensing as he turns towards the desk to continue his sorting.
Well, shit. What's she supposed to say to that?
And then Luke is suddenly right beside her, helping with the stacking. The aca-gods are really screwing with her today.
In fact, they're screwing with both of them. Jesse may be silent, but he doesn't miss the way Luke is purposefully dicking this moment, moving a crate needlessly on top of the desk, his muscles ridiculous. Stupid, rippling pectorals.
"Did you know they're about to make a new one?" Luke says to Beca, and Jesse wants nothing more than to snort at him. That is so old news, the little faker.
"I did not know that," Beca replies, her concern placed equidistant from all the fucks she could care to give him.
"Now you do," Luke continues, "In fact, I know a small theater downtown is about to show part four again, this Friday. Care to come?"
Beca notices how Jesse is now aligning the rectangular CDs, one on top of the other, with the care of a neurosurgeon, mid-operation. He gets like this when he's particularly seething, and she knows, if they were anywhere near speaking terms right now, he would have totally laid a ready quip on Luke's move. But since he's not going to...
"Sure," Beca answers plainly. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees Jesse's slight hesitation, the slight tensing of his jaw, before he resumes his work.
"If you can tell me who directed it, I'll go with you this Friday. Seeing as you're such a fan," she deadpans, emphasizing the "such a fan" with a mocking smile at Luke.
Because Beca is turned away from him, she doesn't see how Jesse bites the inside of his cheek, trying really hard not to let out a chuckle. So, Beca knows who directed Star Wars. Or, maybe she's just bluffing. Either way, Luke's being put on the spot is still enjoyable. He glances briefly at the scene, despite trying to play it off like he doesn't care, keeping his eyes on his precious alphabetization.
"That's easy," Luke replies, clearly hiding his total lack of knowledge, "I'll tell you on Friday."
"Sorry," Beca replies, turning back to the desk, and glancing up at Jesse (who is mustering all his goddamned resolve not to meet her eyes and share a silly inside joke).
"I don't date half-dorks," Beca adds.
(At which, Jesse feels a particular pain, especially because his heart skipped a beat.)
"Hmm," Luke mutters, brushing off Beca's rejection, and focusing on trying to shove an album on an already-crowded shelf.
"Use the Force, Luke," Beca suddenly says.
There is nothing Jesse could have done to stop the snort-chuckle that gets out of him. He covers it up with a fake cough.
"Oh, haha. Just so you two know, a raise is not going to happen," Luke snaps back. He leaves the album sticking out, and heads back to the booth.
"Take care of that," he throws over his shoulder to Jesse, as he walks away.
Jesse makes a move to go over to the other side of the desk, when Beca gets to the album first. "I got it," she tells him. If only to be able to meet his eyes for the first time in a long time.
He purses his lips, nods, resumes his place at the desk. Beca has to tell herself that it's okay, at least she got far enough to slip in a reference there. At least, he notices. She's kidding herself, after all, if she thinks that they'll magically get back to the way they were. Up on her tiptoes, she tries to push the album back in place, and she almost falls backward right before he's next to her again, taking out some of the other albums in the shelf, and replacing the lot of them back.
"Don't hurt yourself," he says, not looking at her as he keeps his eyes on the shelf, placing the albums neatly.
"Thanks."
It comes out like a stupid garble, because Beca doesn't know how to handle the idea that he really is done with her, with how he can't even look at her. So she takes a huge bunch of CDs and heads over to the second floor, where she can properly wipe her eyes on her shirt.
...
"I can lie to you all my days, but you're the one one... you're the one..."
Beca skips the mess hall for a tuna sandwich and a sad song. Sitting on a bench near the quad, some of the High Notes have already taken her spot on the grass. She doesn't care. She doesn't feel like sitting on her little plot alone.
"And I'm a fool for waiting so long to let you know..."
She doesn't know what time of the afternoon to call it, because she's gotten used to gauging time based on her time with Jesse. The guy is prompt with his thoughtful little invasions of her schedule. Normally, after her Lit class, she would spend time at the quad, and when he'd come around, it would be half-past three. They'd talk, for an hour or so, before he decides that it would be a good idea to sneak into the BU harmonics "rehearsals", or sneak into a random class' movie viewing, or sneak into anywhere the two of them could sneak into, before he chickens out on the way, and they end up talking again.
But now, sitting by her laptop with a dry, crusty sandwich and no company will have to do. But because the aca-gods are sadistic in their sense of humor, she is suddenly sandwiched herself, between two brimming Bellas. Ashley on her left, Jessica on her right. She lowers her headphones.
"Hey guys... What's going—"
"Nothing! Nothing... cookie?"
Jessica is always chipper. But chipper and cookies?
"Thanks," Beca takes one.
"So, what're you listening to?" Ashley interjects.
"Um... let's see... Rosi Golan, T. Swift, Andrew Belle, Simple Minds..."
She monotonously states her playlist, faking oblivion at their sudden concern the moment she mentions Simple Minds. Until she notices Jessica staring at her, again, like her whole face were a soap opera.
"Okay. Something's going on. What is it?" she says, urging them to just spill it.
Jessica and Ashley look to each other, and then back at her.
"Beca..."
"Well... we noticed that, um, this morning..."
"Are you okay?" Jessica places a comforting hand on Beca's shoulder, while Ashley takes her sandwich and replaces it with three more cookies.
"It's okay, Beca."
"Yeah, I mean... don't... feel bad about it."
"Yeah. It's college, there are plenty of other guys who—"
"WHAT?!"
Beca is fighting the urge to close her laptop and walk away, but that's not right. She already learned her lesson yesterday, with her good father pep-talk and the whole Bellas thing and Jes...
Okay, maybe not Jesse. But two out of three ain't bad.
And yes, they know. She told them about The Breakfast Club, that first kiss that didn't happen, Jesse. She told them about Jesse. Well, not really. She didn't need to. She and Jesse have been seen around campus more often than not, it's not difficult to put two and two together. He's obviously her best...
Wait a minute. Shit.
Her eyes fall shut of their own accord, finally getting it.
"Oh my god, you think Jesse and I... broke up."
"Wait, you mean you didn't?" Ashley says.
"No, dude. I mean... we were never..."
The two Bellas beside her look utterly flabbergasted, it's not even funny.
"Oh," Ashley says.
"Yeah."
As Amy would say: aca-awkward.
"So why are you so sad?" Jessica pipes.
Beca opens her mouth and closes it again, not quite sure how to answer that. She had pointedly told Jesse that he wasn't her boyfriend, right? So, really, why is she so affected by this?
"I was a dick to him," Beca replies, going on the safe route, "and I... shouldn't have been. And now, he's not talking to me. God, he can't even look at me, and it's all my fault."
The two Bellas on either side of her fall into silence. Ashley starts munching on the sandwich, and Jessica nibbles on her cookies. The three of them bask in the glorious understanding of Beca's misfortune.
"We have to do something about this," Ashley suddenly starts.
And then, they're gone. Beca hopes that, whatever they're planning, it would be somewhere along the lines of mild.
...
Come that evening, Beca is slowly making her way across campus to the auditorium, for Bellas practices. Again.
The finals is less than two weeks away, and they need to harness the power of the moon or something, if they expect to be anywhere near ready by then. The great thing is that all the Bellas know this; they're pumped and talented and motivated, so Beca is banking on these three factors to get them ready. They need to practice.
But not tonight, apparently, as she is suddenly greeted by a dark, silent auditorium.
Why isn't anybody here yet?
"Guys?" She calls out, and gets the surprise of her life when the lights suddenly open and she's assaulted with a godsmacking amount of cleavage in her face. Oomph.
She hears the collective "SURPRISE!" that the Bellas shout from behind Amy's triple Ds. And she's suddenly getting squished and hugged and assaulted by Stacie's equally-massive "guns" (Stacie's words) and Lilly's stick figure and Ashley's and Jessica's cookies and Cynthia Rose's bear hug.
"What's going on?" Beca finally gets to say, after she's put down by Cynthia Rose, and she gasps when she spots Aubrey wearing a party hat. "You have a hat. Why do you have a hat?"
"Well," Aubrey says, coming over to her, "We have decided that, since I have passed the pitch pipe on to you, it is only fitting that we celebrate your birthday!"
"It's not my birthday today."
"What, is that supposed to stop us?" Fat Amy says, moving over to the small table with a few choice food products and opening a bottle of Boone's Farm.
The other girls proceed with the festivities, Denise grabbing Beca's laptop to set it up with the speakers, the girls going over to the food stuffs (trying to get past Amy's body blockage of the table), and Beca can't help but smile, genuinely smile, for and because of these nerds.
"Happy birthday, Beca!" She hears, as she is suddenly thrown into the arms of one perky redhead. True to form, Chloe doesn't fail to make the hug borderline inappropriate.
"Whoa, ho-kay... Ouch... boob space, Chloe, boob space... remember what we talked about..."
Chloe finally releases her, to the immense relief of her rack. "And it's not my birthday, seriously," Beca adds with a laugh. "Who's idea was this anyway? You guys are just trying to get out of practice."
"It was my idea," Aubrey says, coming over to Beca with a single cupcake and a lighted candle. "I think that we deserve to celebrate just for the hell of it," Aubrey says, a huge smile lighting up her face as she hands Beca the cupcake.
"It's about time that we start off fresh, and it's all because of you," Aubrey tells Beca. "Also," she adds, "I owe you an apology."
"What? No, you don't have to—"
"Yes, I do. We... I never said you weren't a Bella. And it was wrong of me to insinuate that. You are one of the best singers in this group. You know your music, and... I know that the Bellas are in good hands. And I'm really sorry."
Aubrey finishes with an awkwardly sincere smile.
"That is... um..."
Words escape Beca. She's not used to being apologized to, not with her family, her friends. She has never been put in a position to have to communicate on such an intimate level; it's one of the many reasons that she's not exactly the best when it comes to feelings and all those. She doesn't know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a sincere apology, for her feelings to be taken into account. So when she feels the heat of impending tears behind her eyes, she sort of freaks out.
"Oh my god," she laugh-cries, sniffling a bit. "You didn't have to do this."
Aubrey smiles even brighter. "Oh, don't be silly. You needed it."
"Thank you," Beca replies in a hushed voice, because any louder, and it would break. She would break. And then Aubrey gives her a hug, the first she's ever received from their former captain.
Today wasn't perfect, but it's not bad.
...
"I feel like we're in a funeral," Cynthia Rose comments about the music, a melancholy playlist from Beca's laptop.
"Yeah. I mean, how much Taylor Swift do you have on here?" Amy says.
They are huddled in a circle on the floor, enjoying what's left of the pizza and cupcakes that haven't been desecrated by Amy just yet, listening to Beca's automatic playlist as it suddenly reaches the most recently played songs.
"And I'll feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe," Taylor Swift croons in the background.
"I feel like that time when I didn't have sex for five days. Seriously, this is depressing," Stacie comments.
"Sorry," Beca replies, laughing a bit as she wipes the icing off her hands, "I didn't have some Jessie J on hand for your party needs."
At the mention of that one name, she feels the sudden hush. She rolls her eyes. "Okay, you guys don't have to act all weird, it's not like it's a big deal."
"Dude," Stacie says, shaking her head and looking dead serious, "you're in denial."
What.
"What Stacie means to say," Chloe amends, "is that you seem... pretty, um—"
"Depressed," Denise adds.
"Really unhappy," Jessica follows.
"It's like that time, when I was with the chub chubs, and one of them died, mid-performance, you know?" Fat Amy says, "You used to be a grape, but now you're just... a rejected raisin."
Not really being in the mood to push this, Beca resigns with a sigh and a small smile, before Aubrey takes over.
"Well, I, for one, think that we've had enough bonding time and that we need to get to work. We should start choreography tonight, so..." she says, changing the topic as she gets up and expects the rest of the Bellas to follow. Who would've thought that the nicest thing that Aubrey would do for Beca would involve practice? She smiles at Beca, whose gratitude shows through a similar expression.
Despite Fat Amy's protests about pizza and cardio not mixing well together ("Trust me," she says. "I've tried. Not a good combo."), the Bellas use the rest of the night to try to come up with a routine. Not much practice, as they merely try to memorize the new moves. ("We should do a chest shove," Stacie suggests, "kind of like in the old dance, but with more... boob.")
After finishing the first part of their choreo, Simple Minds starts playing.
"Okay," Beca starts, willing herself to be completely unaffected when the first lines come up, "So, Chloe, you take this solo, and why don't we start with, like, a simple V formation, here at center..."
She drones on, but the Bellas have stopped to stare at her.
"...and then we could—oh, come on you guys. Really?" She turns to face them, stopping her explanation short.
"I'm not buying it, Beca," Chloe says, arms crossed. "We need to deal with this."
"What's there to deal with? I screwed up, okay. He's never gonna talk to me again, so there," Beca says, going over to her water. Her bitterness is coming to the surface, and oddly enough, she doesn't feel the need to hide it. Not around these girls anymore. So she sits down, takes a rest, as the other Bellas move over to her side.
"Oh, honey child," Stacie says, "you really don't know, do you?"
"Know what?"
"Man like that," Cynthia Rose says, "ain't gonna back down that easily."
"Yeah, I mean, you've known him for a year now," Fat Amy says (picking through the remains of dinner), "If he's stuck with you all this time, the man's got enough balls to stick with you through eternity, if you ask me."
Beca doesn't know whether to be insulted or hopeful.
"They're right, you know," Aubrey comments.
"You didn't see the look in his eyes," Beca replies, a sad smile playing on her lips. And if she was hoping that including Simple Minds in their set would somehow placate him, every waking moment of her life devoid of his intrusions just make her doubt herself.
At this, the Bellas collectively frown, because now, now it's serious, and they seem to be at a loss.
"Why don't you talk to him?" Aubrey suddenly says.
"What?"
"Tell him how much you care."
Aubrey's suggestion is quite sensible, really. Last night, Beca had already resolved that she's willing to try to salvage whatever's left of their relationship. But talking to him? About... feelings?
"Dude, I can't do that."
"Yea—no, don't make her do that," Fat Amy interjects. "She's gonna explode under the weight of emotions. It'll be months before the janitors clean the remains off the walls."
"I'm on Amy with this," Chloe adds.
Beca can't help but hide a chuckle at how well these girls have come to know her.
"I think you should sing to him," Lilly says in that small voice of hers. The rest of them stop everything, eyes glowing wide at Lilly's brilliance. Of course.
There is no other way. She will make music with her mouth, and she will sing to him.
AN: I once read a fic that posits that Stacie was the one to come up with that one chest shove move during the finals. If you guys recall what it was, please tell me so I can credit that headcanon. :)
And I know ya'll have probably given up on me, but I would still, and forever, appreciate it if I knew someone would continue to read this...? Life is hard, so I am not able to update as often, but I try. And I promise, come the break, I will give you chapters to your heart's content. If y'all still, you know, want me to...
review? But only if you want to. If that's okay...
(I'm sorry. Inspiration is slow.)
Two more chapters, I think...
thanks guys. :)
MUSIC: Come Around - Rosi Golan; Last Kiss - Taylor Swift