Someone was taking a pickaxe to her brain, and she was fairly sure she was going to die.
"Jesus Christ", Beca croaked, barely opening her eyes. "Oh my fucking God. Turn down the sun. Jesse, turn off the sun".
"Good morning sleepy head!" Jesse said cheerily beside her, where he had his laptop resting on his knees. She balled her hand into a fist before smacking him on the shoulder, letting out a groan.
"Don't talk", she instructed, and he reached onto the table to give her the bottle of water. She took a swig before launching herself off the bed and running towards the upstairs bathroom. He heard her gagging and retching and hurling her guts up into the porcelain toilet bowl, wincing at the sound of vomit hitting the water.
He pushed his laptop aside before joining Beca in the bathroom, pulling her loose hair back and scrunching it into a ponytail. He rubbed her back gently as she continued to gag, carefully offering her water.
When the vomiting subsided, she leaned against him, her face pale and clammy.
"Why did you let me drink that much?" she asked, closing her eyes, and he brushed back sticky strands of hair, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her upright.
"You said something about jiggle juice and then I didn't see you for half an hour", he said truthfully. "Fat Amy said something about you feeling sick before the party so she mixed you a drink. She mixed you multiple drinks, actually. Do you remember any of it?"
"Why are you yelling at me? Talk quieter, please".
Jesse laughed. "You're really in a state this morning!"
"I'm fairly sure she mixed me straight fucking vodka". She closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest. "Oh my God, I want to die. Today is the day that I die. Rest in peace Beca, you probably deserved it".
"Isn't that what I'm meant to be putting on your headstone?" he checked with a slight chuckle and she gave him the finger before throwing up again.
"Oh Jesus take the wheel". She put her head on the rim of the toilet, not even caring about the fact that she was willingly laying on the floor of a bathroom belonging solely to boys (gross. She'd have to burn her pants and bleach her face).
"Do you want anything, Beca?"
She answered him by vomiting again, and he almost chuckled, patting her back gently.
"Can I get you anything, Beca?" Jesse said pleasantly, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, where Beca was still curled up on the tiles. "It's been five hours Bec; I think you can get up now honey. At least move this into the bedroom".
"The sweet release of death", she said pathetically and he nodded.
"Yes dear".
"So, has Beca moved in or something?" Benji wanted to know, as Jesse spread peanut butter over a slice of toast.
"Sorry man, we should move into the spare room", Jesse said apologetically. "She's not very well, and she's probably better off here than at the Bellas house".
"She's hungover man", Donald interrupted. "She's not sick, she's hungover".
"I think there's more to it". Jesse shrugged, setting the piece of toast on a plate and tossing the knife into the dishwasher.
"Hey Swanson, where the hell is Beca?" Stacie questioned, marching into the Treblehouse. "She hasn't been home in three days, not since aca-initiation night. Why the fuck are you holding our leader hostage?"
"She's sick", Jesse said in explanation.
"Sick or hungover?" Fat Amy wanted to know. "She's really little, Shawshank can't handle her alcohol".
"Oh she's definitely sick. She might even be dying".
And she was. Beca had barely moved off his bed since Saturday morning, complaining whenever he offered her anything more than water. "Apparently alcohol and Beca don't mix".
"She brushed her teeth with sunglasses on", Benji said helpfully, and Stacie laughed.
The little brunette could hold her alcohol well some days. And some days, not.
"Have you fed her?" Fat Amy said helpfully. "Beca needs food, she gets really, really mad when she's angry. She is the hangriest person I know".
(Jesse had learned that very early on in freshman year, and as a precaution, carried snacks around in his backpack for when they were stuck at the radio station at mealtimes.)
"She won't keep anything down", he almost chuckled. "Friday night really messed her up".
"Where the hell is she? We'll make her feel better".
He was fairly sure those two could only make things worse, but who was he to argue with Stacie and Fat Amy? So he pointed upstairs, and the noise continued.
"Go away", Beca said, her head underneath Jesse's pillow.
"We need you at home, we don't know how to use the stereo", Stacie protested. "And also, Lily will probably burn the house down if you aren't around to stop her".
"Why is it always my job to stop the pyrotechnic?" she complained. "My head hurts and I'm going to barf so get me a bucket and be helpful!" she pushed herself into a sitting position, taking the bucket Fat Amy shoved helpfully at her. She dry retched twice, before laying back down, still clutching the bucket. "False alarm".
"Look, I don't mean to alarm you or anything", Stacie said carefully, "But you're probably really dehydrated and should see a doctor or something. Seriously. It's been three days and you're still hungover? Even your short ass should have all the alcohol out of your system by now. Its concerning".
"Look at you, doctor of the year", Fat Amy said proudly.
"Future lady doctor", Stacie corrected, beaming.
"Can you two please go away?" Beca pleaded. "I just want to sleep, I'm so tired!"
"Your anaemic little ass is probably craving a cheeseburger right now", Fat Amy said helpfully, and Beca sat up, gagging.
"Please get out!"
"Bye Beca!"
"Feel better!"
They exited the room, almost running into Jesse.
"So, she's your problem now", Stacie said cheerfully. "She needs a cheeseburger and to see a doctor. In that order. And send her home because that place is sure as fuck going to burn to the ground without her around to supervise".
"I worry about what goes on in the Bellas house", Jesse said, furrowing his eyebrows together.
"Bye Treble!"