"I got held up at Dad's longer than I thought I would," Beca was saying as she closed the door behind her. "Is this Adele I'm hearing?" she asked as she watched Jesse bring the bottle of vodka he was holding to his mouth.

"Had fun at your Dad's?" he asked after swallowing, ignoring her rhetorical question.

"We played chess," she deadpanned. "And talked about our day." She took off her jacket while following him into the apartment. "So much fun," she said every word dripping with sarcasm.

She shook her head when he extended the bottle her way as she grabbed his iPod from the deck system to change the depressing music. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking up after scrolling down the playlist he had put together. "There's a disturbing amount of break up songs on here." She put the iPod back in the deck after playing Regina Spektor's Two Birds instead of Adele's someone like you.

"Yep." He nodded and put the bottle on the kitchen counter. "I'm dope as fuck."

"The smell of vodka stings," she told him when he wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned in.

"Would it sting less if I brushed my teeth?" He pulled his head back.

"Yeah," she nodded and patted his cheek.

"Okay," he said and rubbed his nose before he began making his way to the bathroom. When he came back she was looking at his laptop which he left on the counter.

"I'm so sorry, Jesse," Beca apologetically said and looked up from the laptop when he sat on a stool.

He was logged on Facebook and was on a Hollie Jacobson's page. She only had to glance once to find out the reason behind the way Jesse was behaving: his ex-girlfriend was now engaged to a Charlie Harris who happened to have a huge beard which she knew the man who his ex- cheated on him with had.

"I'm not mad at them, you know?" He shrugged, clasping his hands. "I just don't get it. Were they hooking up for long behind my back but didn't come forward because they pitted me? They're clearly in love. And, I was clearly in their way." He sniffled and looked down at his hands. "What did I do to deserve this?"

Beca felt bad for him but didn't pity him nor did she have an answer. She reached for his hands and gave them a squeeze. "These assholes hurt you so bad, Jesse, and you've dealt with it quite maturing." She paused because she needed a moment to remind herself that getting a rant about how shitty the newly engaged couple were wouldn't help. "You never talk shit about them even though they deserve it. You're trying to move on and you will eventually."

She held his chin up to make him face her because he was staring at their hands the whole time.

"You're a decent man who just had a bad experience." She shrugged. "Don't let the news of their engagement cut open your healing wound."

'Deep shit, Mitchell.' She thought to herself as the words left her mouth.

He was nodding so she assumed what she was saying was in some way helping.

"You should probably stop checking her Facebook page." She patted his hand.

"I try not to. But I just can't. I have to check up on her every now and then."

"Why do it when it hurts?" she asked in confusion.

He shrugged. "I guess, I should block her." He looked his laptop. "When words don't look like ants," he figured then let out a breath. "Thanks, Becs," he smiled at her but didn't reach his eyes.

"You're welcome," she smiled back. She looked between his eyes and lips while he did the same then leaned in for a kiss, cupping his face when he leaned in as well.

"Is my breath okay?" he asked. Her response was to nod before pressing her lips against his.

He broke the kiss, almost falling from the stool, then took her hand as she led them to his bedroom.

He was sloppy but she didn't mind as they, figuratively, ripped each other's clothes off.—she ended up doing most of the undressing to avoid the awkward pauses.

She knew she was going to be in total control because he was that drunk and the thought thrilled her.

Jesse's head was on her shoulder while his arm was wrapped around her. She was caressing his hair as he slept, thinking about the state he was in before falling asleep: he was a mess.

She wondered if he'd wake up feeling any better after crying himself to sleep and also wondered if he'd remember crying in the first place— she didn't know what to do when he began to silently cry after they finished and embraced him in her arms when he asked for a hug.

She felt bad for him but couldn't relate to him for the life of her. She didn't know what he was going through. It seemed like it hurt a lot and made her dread heartache.

Hearing meowing coming from outside the bedroom, she figured that Thororeo was hungry and realized that she was hungry, too.

She slowly removed herself from Jesse to avoid waking him up then climbed out of bed. She picked up her panties and Jesse's t-shirt and exited the room.

"Here you go, buddy," she said to the kitten once she put some food in his bowl.

She usually left right after he'd fall asleep but it didn't feel right to leave when he's hurting and in a need of a friend so she spent the night.

"Good morning," Jesse throatily said as he walked into the kitchen the next day pretty surprised to find Beca there making pancakes.

"Top o' the Mornin' to Ya!" she said in response as she turned off the stove. "I hope you're hungry," she said, gesturing at the plateful of pancakes on the counter.

He smiled at her and nodded despite the fact that he was hungover and had puked up in the shower. He didn't have to think too hard to get what she was doing and he truly appreciated it.

"So, I'm going to get a tattoo, would you like to tag along?" she asked, looking away from his gaze that he realized made her uncomfortable.

Beca didn't know how to help but knew that staying home and moping around wouldn't.

"Today? You're getting another tattoo today?" he said in surprise.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Of course I'd love to come," he told her and grabbed a couple of glasses for the juice. "What are you going to get and where?" he asked while pouring juice for them.

"An arrow pointing down to my vag with 'insert dick here' written above," she told him with a straight face. "I'm kidding," she added when he looked at her in surprise and actually seemed to believe her.

"Good," he sighed in relief and grabbed a knife and a fork for each.

"I'm getting a couple of measures from David Bowie's song Rebel Rebel on the side of my middle finger," she informed.

"Oh, I love that song," Jesse said and sat down on a stool. "Making a statement, huh?" He watched her sit next to him.

"I just like the song and I've been thinking about getting some notes tattooed." She shrugged.

Jesse was thoroughly entertained by the process of getting a tattoo.

The final product was neat: The staff, the horizontal lines on a music sheet, were done in pale pink under Beca's wishes, and the notes were tattooed in black.

Even though her skin was irritated, the tattoo looked good and Beca seemed happy with it.

"Quick question," Beca mumbled as she bit into the hot dog she was having for lunch while they walked down a park near the tattoo shop.

"Shoot." Jesse tilted his head to look at her.

"When have you started feeling like an actual adult? 'Cause, like, legally I am an adult but I don't feel like one."

"Around the time I graduated college." He shrugged. "I was lucky enough to find a job right away… Hollie and I moved in together." He paused. "I guess responsibilities make you realize that you have to get your shit together and make enough money to afford rent and food." He paused to swallow. "Oh, and also save money to pay off your student loan!" he added.

"Are you still in debt?" Beca wondered.

"No," he shook his head. "I paid it off. I'm actually saving up to buy a house now."

"Wow, that's very adult!"

"I can't live in rent forever. Gotta invest in a propriety."

"Well, when do you think you'll buy a house?" she asked.

"I have been dabbling a little in the stock market and I've made some good money," he casually mentioned. "But I don't want to make an offer unless I can afford the house I'm going to buy."

"You don't want to be in debt." She nodded to herself.

"Correct," he mumbled through a mouthful of hot dog. "I actually can afford a decent home but I can't just put all I have into a house and live off my paycheck."

"You could do more than a little dabbling into the stock market," she suggested.

"I'm not a big fan of the stock market as a whole. It actually stresses me out and I can do with lesser stress in my life."

"Well, then use the other degree you have. You have a degree in film scoring, right?"

He chuckled humorlessly. "I can't."

"Why? What's stopping you?" She frowned.

"It's too late." He shrugged.

"It is never too late," she disagreed.

"The odds of failing are high so why take a risk?"

"Because it's what drives you. Because you love music and film." He'd tear her ears off by talking about music in films trying to get her to see a movie, anyone one can tell how passionate he was about film production and music composition. "It's worth the risk."

He tilted his head and looked at her adoringly. "I really love your passion and determination, please don't lose these traits. Thrive on them and achieve what you want."

"Why are you talking like you're on your death bed?" she questioned in confusion.

"Beca, a job in the entertainment industry requires a thick skin and a certain naivety that would keep you going and I don't have those things... I did back when I was around your age."

"Naivety?" Yep, she was offended.

He nodded. "Confidence, if you will," he added then sat on a bench to tie his loose shoelaces after he stuffed his hot dog in his mouth.

"Well, what kept you from following a path in music when you were my age?" she questioned. "Did you naivety vanish? I mean, it can't be the confidence because you're annoyingly confident," she deadpanned.

He smiled a little at the tone she was using and leaned against the bench before removing the hot dog from his mouth once he took a bite.

"That is such a back handed compliment." He paused to swallow the food he barely chewed. "I actually postponed the music thing then kind of just gave it up. I had a job and a life in Atlanta." He sighed.

"You gave up your dream for her, didn't you?" she figured.

"She wasn't the same after we lost the baby… It actually got to the point where I dragged her to a therapist's office. I couldn't just pack and head to L.A. to become a composer and leave her behind. I really doubted we'd make it through the distance and as I said she wasn't feeling well. I couldn't put her through leaving her life in Atlanta for me either."

"You put her first." She sat down next to him.

"I put her first," he nodded. "Aren't you gonna ask if I regret it?" he wondered, tilting his head to look at her as he finished his hot dog.

"No, I don't wanna hear it," she answered. "You'd probably drop some bullshit that I assume is what you tell yourself to keep it together and not, like, pick up the phone and give the woman who picked over your dream a piece of your mind."

"I'm really glad you showed up last night when you did because I was itching to make that call," he confessed, confirming what she had guessed.

"You shouldn't keep it to yourself, it's not healthy because you will combust at some point and trust me, pal, it's really bad when that happens," she told him and watched him frown as he tilted his head to look at her.

"You're saying I should call my ex- and blame her for how things turned out?" he asked in confusion.

"No, of course not," she retorted. "I'm saying you should let out. Say it out loud. You're into dramatics, go up to the mountains and yell it on top of your lungs," she suggested. "Or just pretend I'm her and tell me what you wanted to say to her but never did."

"Well, I was gonna start off by congratulating her on the engagement," he said as he scratched his chin.

"Great, now use direct speech and look at me?" she was biting into her hot dog as she spoke then watched him turn around and eye her.

"I know I'm not a tall drink of water like your ex- but I doubt it's hard to pretend," she told him after swallowing the hot dog. "Don't hold back." He seemed a little hesitant so she figured he'd need a little push.

"Fuck you," he blurted and she was taken aback a little because of abrupt it was.

"I don't even care about the reason you fucked Charlie in our bed. It doesn't make things easier. I don't wake up every day feeling okay because 'it wasn't my fault that you fell for my best friend'. If you gave two shits about me you would have told me about your feelings. I would have stepped back and moved along with my life because I wasn't even in love with you anymore… I just didn't want to end what I thought was a good thing. I thought we were at a stage where it's more about mutual respect and understanding of each other because we've been together for so long, which was obviously wrong and just me trying to convince myself that there was still something for us. That I didn't waste almost a decade of my life with you. That I'm not stuck doing a job I dread going to every day for no good reason. That I never even tried to follow my dream since I was a kid for no good reason." He sniffled, pausing because he was going to tear up. "Excuse me," he cleared his throat and got up, pacing away and leaving Beca alone on the bench.

Part of her wanted to go after him but she didn't. He wanted to be alone and she wasn't the pushy type. However, she did plan to text him if he didn't come back or at least contacted her in an hour.

She was playing Temple Run when he came back. She looked up and eyed him. Asking if he was okay seemed stupid so she just rubbed his arm. "You'll get through this," she assured him, patting his forearm.

He shifted in discomfort, not because of her gesture but because of he was a little embarrassed for almost breaking down, and continued to look ahead of him.

"It was a pretty bad idea what I told you to do," she apologetically said, crossing her arms across her chest and leaning against the bench. "I didn't think it'll make you hurt. I thought it would do the opposite... Sorry."

"No, it's fine. It's good that I got those words out. Made me realize certain things." He blew a breath. "I think I'm having an existential crisis." He let out a small humorless chuckle.

"If there were any therapists working on weekends I would have dragged you to their office." This time he laughed and it made her feel accomplished because she had no idea how to give him advice so cracking jokes was her only option. "I checked movies playing in theaters, there's a new Die Hard movie, wanna go see it?" she asked. Yes, she was ready to sit through a movie if it meant he'd feel slightly better.

"I heard it's the worst in the Die Hard franchise," he told her.

"You've already seen it haven't you?" she guessed.

"Opening night." He nodded.

"Well, is there a movie you wanna go see?" she questioned.

"The new Nicholas Sparks movie," he said fully expecting her to flat out refuse.

She sucked in a breath. "Okay," she agreed. "If I fall asleep do not dare wake me up, though," she warned when he looked at her in surprise.

"You really would go see a Nicholas Sparks movie with me?"

"Yeah." She shrugged.

She'd totally sit through a boring melodramatic romantic movie if it meant he'd feel slightly better.

They got their tickets and snacks and sat the empty theaters which Beca knew wasn't a good sign and braced herself for the crap she paid to watch on the big screen.

She rolled her eyes way too many times throughout the runtime of the movie. "Oh, C'mon," she exclaimed and got shushed by one of the few movie goers watching the movie with them. "Are they fucking serious? Who wrote this crap?" she whispered, tilting her head to look at Jesse.

"What's so bad about getting caught in a rainstorm?" he asked, amused by her annoyance—going to see a cheesy romantic movie with movie hater was weirdly therapeutic.

"It's such a cliché," she mumbled. "And for fucks' sake, why is her face dry now? Her face looks too perfect for someone who just got caught in a rainstorm."

Jesse shrugged in response and held the popcorn her way.

"Whoever wrote this must've drawn some inspiration from M Night Shyamalan," Beca said once the credit began to roll. "Because what amazing twists did this movie have! So fucking stupid. The lady that only Katie sees is a ghost. No one fucking saw that coming," she grumbled.

"You know M Night?" Jesse said in surprise.

"I'm not even going to address the cop subplot because that was just absurd," she continued with her rant.

"You're taking this way too seriously," Jesse chuckled. "It's a sappy Nicholas Sparks movie, what did you expect?"

"Oh, so you knew it's bad." She narrowed her eyes.

"I knew what I was in for; unrealistic cheesy epic romance. But I agree the plot twists were pretty dumb."

"Thank you." She stood up.

Beca woke up first the next day. Jesse was spooning her and had his chin on her shoulder, peaceful sleeping, which felt awfully wrong but she chose to ignore that feeling.

She kind of regretted inviting him to her room when he tried to kiss her after walking her back to her dorm. It seemed like a good idea at the time: Kimmy Jin was away for the weekend: she had the room to herself and their RA was either too cool or just didn't care.

If she was being honest with herself, she invited him back to her room because she couldn't stand the awkwardness that followed his attempt at kissing her—PDA wasn't something fuck buddies did.

She decided that it was just a mishap, pinned it on his vulnerability and state of mind in general because it couldn't possibly be anything other than that.

She looked at her newly tattooed finger and swore under her breath, realizing that the bandage was still on and she hadn't wash it: she hoped it didn't get infected because of her forgetfulness.

"Jesse," she called while patting his cheek. "Jesse, wake up."

"Morning," he said as he distanced himself a little to let her get up. "What's wrong?" he asked, hearing her wince.

"It's nothing," she told him. "I just removed the bandage from around my finger." She eyed her sore finger that needed to be cleaned as soon as possible.

"Didn't the tattoo artist tell you to soak it with warm water?" He sat up. "To keep it from sticking to your skin." He rubbed his face. "Let me see," he requested. "This looks bad," he said when she did let him see her hand.

"Looks worse than it feels. It's just blood and ink," she assured and pulled her hand away before she climbed out of bed.

He laid back on the bed and eyed the shelf full of vinyl records in her side of the room while she put some clothes on.

"I don't know when my roommate will be back," she said as she gathered his clothes from the floor then tossed them on the bed.

He nodded and began getting dressed.

"You need to wash that tattoo of yours," he was slipping his pants on as he spoke. "Before it gets infected."

"I know." She looked down at middle finger then looked up at the knock on the door.

"Beca, wake up." They heard Dr. Mitchell say.

Jesse tried to keep the horror from his face when he met Beca's gaze.

"Beca," Dr. Mitchell called and knocked again.

Jesse held his breath when Beca turned on her heels.

"Hi, Dad," she greeted after she unlocked the door.

"Hey, kiddo. You didn't come back," he said in disappointment.

"Yeah, that friend I told you needed help really needed me around," she told him while blocking his view by pulling the door.

"Well, I tried calling you last night. I got worried and figured I'd come check here before starting a search party," he jokingly said.

"I was busy." She cleared her throat, thinking back at what she was doing when he called.

She then momentarily closed her eyes when she heard Jesse swear after he dropped something.

Dr. Mitchell arched an eyebrow at his only daughter who sighed then pushed the door open so he'd see who was inside the room.

"Morning, Professor," Jesse greeted awkwardly as he picked up his cell phone from the floor while suppressing the pain that stubbing his toe against the bed caused.

"Yes, Dad, this is exactly what it looks like," Beca confirmed when her father looked back at her.

Jesse who would very much prefer getting swallowed by the floor any moment now was surprised that his former professor wasn't trying to strangle him like he imagined he would.