Jecaww

It’s not a question, but Jesse gives her an answer anyways, “Yes, I am.”

“You’re coloring. In a coloring book,” she says.

“It’s not a coloring book. It’s an adult coloring book,” he smiles up at her from his seat on their little kitchen table.

“Jesse, be serious,” she rolls her eyes at him but sits across from him regardless.

“My mom used to buy me these all the time.” Jesse picks up the blue colored pencil from the Crayola box set in the center of the round table.

“Yeah, Jess. When you were 6, not 21.”

“You don’t have to be so negative about it,” he shrugs up at her, still completely focused on filling in the little shape in the turquoise colored pencil. “Adult coloring books are incredibly ‘in’ right now, you know.”

“No, I don’t.” Beca shakes her head, but Jesse doesn’t even look up at her to notice her reaction.  

“They’re good for your health. It helps you relax and reduces stress levels,” he reaches for the red colored pencil.

“So does sex,” she deadpans. “Which would be more appropriate for someone your age.”

“You know, you don’t have to sit there pretending to hate it,” he says lightly. “You should try it. It’s fun.”

“I think I’m good.”

He tears out a blank geometric coloring page and slides it to her side of the table. “Here, you can try this one.”

“Jess, this is for kids.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugs.

He carries on coloring his own pattern of different shapes, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She’s still for a while, but he notices her hesitantly pick up the green pencil and start coloring her own page in front of her.

“Told you. It’s fun isn’t it?”

U - Unique

Beca had had boyfriends before Jesse, but she had never had a boyfriend that was anything like Jesse. Her longest relationship, if you could even call it that, before him had lasted just over a year. It had been a whirlwind of hormone fuelled kisses and drunken parties that she had often had to hide from her mother, a guy that would sound the horn at the end of her driveway instead of coming in and risking conversation with her family. She’d liked him, or at least she thought she had at the time, but the more she thought about it, the more she realised there had been no substance in the relationship, they were both just there, both messed up hormonal teenagers that were desperate to rebel against their parents.

Jesse was different. He was gentle, thoughtful, his interest had been in getting to know her long before their relationship became physical. He insisted on date nights, time when it was just the two of them, even if all they did was hole up in her room and talk for hours. When he’d first met her mother, he hadn’t stood in the background, waiting for her exit to approach, he had come right over and introduced himself with a firm handshake, accepted her mother’s awkward hug without hesitation. He’d made an effort to bond with her father, and in turn had helped her do the same. He hadn’t pushed her into opening up, but had given her a safety that made her want to, and when she had began telling him her deepest and darkest thoughts, he hadn’t walked away.

I - Inspiration

Beca groaned, staring blankly at her laptop screen before throwing herself back onto the bed. Nothing. She had nothing. After working for hours, she had absolutely nothing to show for it and the stress of an increasingly closer deadline.

“I wanted this, right?” She called out the bedroom door before sitting and staring at the screen again.

“Yes.” She heard the response, and leaned back when she felt familiar hands begin to massage her shoulders. “You’re tense.”

“That’s not likely to change unless you can convince my boss to push my deadline.”

The hands moved from her shoulders, and her lips fell into a half pout as she turned, only to meet one of those same hands being held out to her. “Come on.”

“I have to get this done.”

“Dance with me.”

“Jesse.”

“Dance with me.” He repeated, his hand unmoving. “You know you want to.”

She sighed, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her up, smiling as he pulled her against him and immediately began to lead. “I can’t believe you still remember the steps.”

“To our first dance?” She could almost picture his expression. “I’m never going to forget it.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“You love it.”

“Yeah I do.”

He smiled at her agreement. “What’s got you so stressed?”

“I have to finalise this song by next week, but nothing sounds right.”

“If anyone can do it, Bec, you can.” He reassured her. “You can do anything.”

“Except perfect this song.”

“What doesn’t sound right about it?”

“I want the music to connect with the lyrics, but nothing feels right.”

“You’re getting sentimental in your old age.”

“Dork.” She shot back, before finding herself unable to keep in her laugh. “I’m only 28.”

He laughed himself. “What’s the song about?”

“Love, like every other song, there’s nothing unique about these lyrics, but the beat is pretty good, if I can make the right changes in the right places it could be a hit, but…”

“Bec,” He spoke up when she cut off. “Try focusing on the parts that don’t make you happy, change them to something that does make you happy. Start from there.”

“Nothing about this song makes me happy.”

“Okay, so forget the lyrics, focus on the sound. If your life was a movie, and the melody of this song was a backing track in that movie, what would you want it to sound like?”

She took a step back, pausing for thought before a smile took over her features. “That’s it!”

“You got it?”

“I’ve got it.” She jumped back onto the bed, returning to her laptop. “I knew there was a reason I married you.”

Her back relaxes into the coolness of the window, her bare feet sticking to the paint on the hood of her car, her hair thrown in a bun atop her head, knees to her chest. Her eyes are closed, but her mouth is moving. She’s humming a classic, a special tune from a special movie. She’s a hard worker, his Beca, but it’s a nice change seeing her like this– at complete ease.

They’re not doing anything in particular, just enjoying– adjusting to–the LA weather. He’s sat beside her, an empty water bottle in one hand, and the other laying on her knee.

They watch airplanes and listen to crickets chirping. She occasionally complains about his leg hairs touching the bare of her thigh, how itchy they are against her freshly-shaved skin. He replies with a smug smirk and obnoxiously rubbing his leg onto hers, making her scowl. She pinches his nipple through his tank top– he was shirtless earlier, but the cold of the night prompted him to grab something to wear– and he stops. 

She asks him if he believes that aliens exist, to which he points out E.T., and Tarquell from the Sandlot 2, to which she ends up rolling her eyes to. Still, she smiles at his answer.

He brings up some new movies they should see. She tries to formulate arguments against it, but she doesn’t try very hard and just buries herself deeper into his side. 

He traces the tattoos on her arm, now in his lap, following each line almost by memory. He’s careful to avoid the patch of sunburn on her shoulder.

She tells him her fears. He already knows them, but she’s not afraid to repeat them. He assures her that everything will be fine– That they’ll be fine; that he’ll be there to make sure everything is fine. 

Somehow, just hearing him, so confident, so Jesse, is enough to put her at ease. Her fingers move to lace around his, and his lips are on her temple.

It becomes tradition, the whole airplane watching, cricket chirping, car lounging, hypothetical questions, light banter kind of thing, that happens once or twice a month. It’s easy with them; they’re Jesse and Beca, two former a cappella leaders, two current newbie interns at their respective jobs. Los Angeles hasn’t been the kindest to them, but they’re gritting their teeth and pushing through. It’s hard work, but it’s easy.

Jesse follows up with Beca after she leaves him the voicemail. *Jeca*

When Beca had called Jesse pushing 3 o’clock in the morning, she expected him not to answer but she still found herself disappointed when she reached his voicemail.

“Hey, it’s me.” She really should have thought out what she was going to say because her mind started to go blank.

“Um… hey so you might not be able to hear this message because it turns out I have nothing to say, um…” She felt the lump begin to form in her throat, and she did her best to fight it back. Beca Mitchell didn’t cry.

“You’re totally asleep right now, which is cool I guess so um…” Her already frazzled thoughts were interrupted by Fat Amy’s unsuccessful attempt at sneaking upstairs after mysteriously disappearing earlier in the day.

“Text me when you’re up…bye.”

Beca’s voice startled Fat Amy into a defensive rant on how a girl can’t say she’s getting a smoothie and return 14 hours later.

“What are you still doing up?” the Australian wondered as she wandered into the closet and returned wearing her t-shirt with the words “Private Dancer” on it. The sight made Beca chuckle. She remembered when Amy bought that shirt, and how she tried to persuade Beca and Chloe into buying one for all of the girls for a performance.

“Oh you know, just getting some work done.” Beca returned her eyes to her computer screen.

“You working on the new arrangement?”

Beca squeezed her eyes shut in guilt. She should have expected that question, as Chloe had been nagging her every waking moment to finish the arrangement so they could start working out parts.

After 20 minutes of summarizing her issue to Fat Amy and some extra butt confidence, Beca decided to will herself to fall asleep. Sure, Fat Amy was helpful, but all she really wanted was her boyfriend’s comfort.

****

Beca was awoken by the sound of Chloe’s laugh from downstairs and pots and pans clanking together. The clock read 10:34am, and Beca snatched her phone from its charger on her bedside table. As the screen illuminated, she saw 3 missed calls from and 2 text messages from Jesse. She read the texts.

“Hey, I have a 9 am class, but I’m coming for ya as soon as it’s over!”

“Love you, Becs! Don’t let them see you sweat!”

Within 10 minutes, Beca was dressed in her Bellas warm-up jacket and a pair of leggings with a tousled ponytail. She was greeted by a smiling Chloe and Emily as she descended the stairs, and she forced a smile back, feeling the guilt creep back into her. She knew she needed to tell them about her internship, and she really did feel bad about keeping it from them, but now was not the time. Now, she needed Jesse. She almost managed to make it out the door before she heard Chloe’s voice.

“Beca, where are you going?”

Beca shouted over her shoulder, “It’s no big deal. I’ll be back by noon, I need to finish the arrangement.”

“You’re still not done with that? That’s weird; you almost always have the arrangements ready within 2 days. It’s almost been a week. Are you okay? You seem distant lately…like you have something on you mind…”

Beca turned and faced her 2 friends. Emily was still in her pj’s with her hair in messy French braids, whereas Chloe was dressed and ready for the day. Chloe was the maternal one in the group. She was always the first to be dressed, she always made breakfast, and she always wanted to know where the girls were going. Her concerned expression as she leaned up against the island of the kitchen made Beca feel even guiltier.

“I’m just going to meet Jesse. I’m okay, I promise. See ya girls…” Beca exited the house just as she saw Fat Amy descend the stairs. “Where are you going Shawshank?”

The slamming of the door behind her caused the guilt to creep back up. She just needed to clear her head, and the only way she knew how to do that was to talk to Jesse. He was the only one who knew how to calm her down.

****

The quad was typical for a Wednesday morning. Crowded, chaotic, and active. Students were studying on the grass, the cheerleaders were practicing their stunts, and the couples held hands. Beca saw Stacie wave from across the grass as she began up the trail to the Bellas house. Stacie had a 9 am class as well, and Beca forced another smile as she waved back. Beca headed towards the building where Jesse’s class was held, and she felt a sense of relief when she saw his beaming smile as he began to jog over to her. Beca felt her bottom lip quiver and she fell into her boyfriend’s strong arms. Jesse was semi-caught off guard by it. Even though he had seen almost every side of her, she still didn’t cry very often. He’d probably seen her cry a total of 5 times in their entire almost 4 year relationship.

Jesse lightly whispered comforting words into Beca’s ear as she gasped for breath while her head was tightly snug against his chest. Jesse lifted a hand from her back as he shoed away Benji, who was approaching them with his books tucked under his arm.

“Later” Jesse mouthed. Beca lifted her head and turned to see Benji give her a small smile before he walked away.

“What’s wrong with me?” She turned her head back to Jesse who was looking down at her with a sympathetic smile. She wiped her under eyes only to have more tears fall down her cheeks.

Jesse held back a chuckle. Leave it to Beca to get upset and cry over something and then get frustrated over the fact that she was crying which would make her cry even more.

“Come on Becs, let’s go take a walk by the lake. Where it’s quieter and you can tell me what’s gotten you so upset. “ He lingered a kiss on her forehead before grabbing her hand and leading the way. As they walked, he could feel Beca hid her face whenever they passed someone they knew. The sun was shining down on Barden University, offering a nice change to the chilly weather they had been experiencing.

As they neared the lake, Jesse found an open bench that was shaded by trees to sit on. He plopped himself down on the bench and he placed a hand on Beca’s hip as he pulled her down next to him. They sat in silence for a while until Beca’s phone vibrated, with Chloe’s name illuminated on the screen.

Chloe Beale: “Hey Bec, I didn’t mean to upset you earlier, I’ve just been worried about you….”

  Jesse sighed as he broke the silence.

“You still haven’t told her about the internship?”

Beca buried her face in her hands in frustration as she let out a soft groan before losing it.

“I might as while not tell her anyway! What’s the point?! I suck as a musician anyway so there’s no point in telling any of the Bella’s because it doesn’t matter!” She spit out.

More silence.

“Beca….what in the world are you talking about?” Jesse’s voice was soft and soothing. Beca didn’t get upset easily, or at least she didn’t let people know that she was upset.  She took a deep breath before responding.

“You know how I sent that demo to my boss at Residual Heat?” She questioned as she closed her eyes.

“He hated it” Jesse answered the question for her.

Beca adjusted her body so she was facing Jesse as she tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Not only did he say he didn’t like it, he said that I didn’t prove to him that I was special.” She felt her eyes well up with tears again but she forced them back.

After fully explaining the story to Jesse, she took a deep breath and looked towards the lake, letting Jesse contemplate the situation.

Jesse snaked his arm around her body as she leaned into his warmth.

“Beca let me start by saying that you’re incredibly talented. I know you’re stubborn enough to believe that. You do know you’re talented right?”

He took her silence as a ‘yes.’

“You’re Beca Effin Mitchell. You are the person who took hold of the reigns when the Bellas needed a change freshman year. You’ve led the Bellas to repetitive victory for the past 3 years. I know sometimes you don’t feel it, but you’re the glue that holds them together. Trust me, I love Chloe, but the girl is so spacy. She could never do what you do.”

He absentmindedly began to rub her shoulder as he felt her cuddle farther into his side.

“Things are never gonna come easy Bec. Nothing is ever gonna be handed to you. Try and take some of your boss’s advice. I know he’s a jerk, but he does know what he’s doing.”

“But I don’t wright music, and that’s what he wants me to do…” Beca spoke up as she ran a hand across her forehead.

“Ask Emily, didn’t you say she’s been writing music? I’m sure she could help.”

Beca Mitchell didn’t ask for help. She was independent, she could do everything on her own. Or, at least that’s what she liked to think. Within the 3 years she’s been dating Jesse, she’s realized that she has to sometimes let her guard down. People can’t do everything on their own. She didn’t know why, but she felt that if anyone else had tried to tell her that, it wouldn’t have settled well with her. But, something about that way Jesse delivered it. His calm and soothing mannerisms….it made sense.

“I guess you’re right…”

“Aren’t I always?” Jesse’s smirk was palpable through his words. He dug a finger into Beca’s side as she squirmed out of his hold.

“Swanson, I swear…” Beca’s failed attempt at being serious sent Jesse into a chuckle.

“I better head back to the house, before Chloe sends me another apology text. Come with? I think Jessica and Emily made cookies last night.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Jesse was pulled onto his feet as Beca stood on her tiptoes to peck him on the lips.

“Quick question..”

Beca raised her eyebrows.

“How long did it take you to get ready this morning?” Jesse smirked before pecking her lips once more.

H - Home

As a child, Jesse had been asked to describe home. He’d written in detail about the red front door with the lion shaped knocker and the steps leading up to it, his mother’s flowers lining the pathway. He’d written about the earthy colours of the kitchen, the ocean themed bathroom and the large family room. He’d written an especially long paragraph about his room,where the furniture was, where he kept his toys, his fish tank, he’d even gone so far as to draw a picture in case his teacher couldn’t make sense of it. He’d gone on to outline his tree house in the backyard, the vegetables his father grew, the swingset that had been there as long as he could remember.

As a teenager he had been asked again, but this time his answer was shorter. He’d mentioned that it was a house, that it was big enough for his family, and that his DVD collection was kept on shelves that covered almost an entire wall of his bedroom. It wasn’t that he couldn’t say more if pushed, it was that he didn’t feel the need to. Why did anyone care what his house was like?

Honey, how I feel, it’s unconditional

Love is an unconditional commitment to an imperfect person. To love someone isn’t just a strong feeling. It is sometimes a decision, sometimes a judgement, but always a promise.

It was like a multi headed beast; each individual face and figure in the crowd, one in thousands, standing out if searched for by prying eyes but otherwise blending into the one unanimous creature. It was terrifying to look at. Something at least five times anything any of them had faced before, but also including at least ten individuals, critics, that had ultimate power over the entire rest of the performers careers in their field of work. A bad review, a single bad review, could potentially ruin someone’s future. However, apposing that, good reviews was almost a guarantee of impending and imminent success.

Being seated in the middle of the vast audience would have been in itself something to bring on unease; being stood on an elevated platform under the glare of double the number of crowd members if eyes were being counted, was, with no eligible competition whatsoever that even scarcely made par, the most nerve racking, stressful and altogether fearful moment of his entire (still reasonably short) existence.

And he wasn’t even on stage yet.

He was beyond the reasoning of his ‘performers instinct’ now. He was sure he would throw up if he so much as twitched, the tiniest movement would overset his balance causing him to either empty his stomach or collapse. Standing up was definitely not an option. Throwing up was not either, not in this suit. Jesse Swanson sat backstage in a dark corner of the wings. Ridden with a crippling anxiety, he sat on a piano stool completely motionless other than the involuntary twitching and shaking of each of his limbs- which was by no fault of his own and far beyond his control.

He was ghostly pale, taking deep breaths and gulping far too often for his own good. He didn’t want to add light headedness to his list of problems. He could hear the set being performed by the group before them, they were by enlarge, flawless, which just made him feel worse. Each group had seemed considerably better than the last, giving them some real, tough, competition. Each syllable sung from the stage meant Jesse was another syllable closer to his upcoming doom.

He had endured hangovers more enjoyable than this. And by god if he wasn’t careful this night too could result in him being crouched over a toilet seat. It was then that Benji approached him. It was alright for Benji and the other boys, they’d only be coming on stage after him, they didn’t have to stand up alone and sing alone before the rest of the group joined in to continue their set. Ultimately it was him being judged that night. It was his solo that, if he fucked up, would make him the laughing stock all over the next day’s news.

“Jesse, you need to come stage left, we’re up next and you’re on first remember?” Benji told him urgently. He was also unusually nervous, but not half so much as Jesse. The latter vaguely wondered why Benji was asking if he remembered he was on first, of course he remembered, it was the thought that was haunting him this very second- the reason he was in this state at all.

“I’m not going on,” Jesse breathed. He’d made up his mind. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself on that stage in front of all those people. The crowd was too great, the critics were too important and well known. It was the largest audience he had ever had to stand before and probably the largest audience he would ever have to stand before. At least if he didn’t even try to perform he wouldn’t be totally humiliated for the rest of his pitiful existence.

“You have to go on,” Benji told him. “You can’t not go on Jesse.” Benji was lost for words as he saw the fear that his friend was battling with. Jesse shook his bowed head, almost in a shameful way, as if he was distraught in disappointment in himself. “I’m sorry Benji, but that’s the thing,” he whispered, “It’s not that I don’t want to. I can’t.”

“Someone’s going to have to take over Jesse’s part.” Benji was haphazardly trying to rearrange their set with a missing part, in the panic and confusion of being up next and having to make last minute drastic changes was putting a colossal amount of pressure on each of the Barden Treblemakers. They were used to the ICCA’s; they were not used to performances of this level and scale.

“There’s no way I’m doing Jesse’s part. That would be shit scary!” “We can’t do it without him Benji, he’s the lead part and without his solo we’d lose anyway.” “Let’s just say we can’t go on, artistic differences- death of a team member- there are any number of excuses. That fact is we can’t do it without Jesse!” “What do you mean without Jesse?”

Beca and the rest of the Bellas were watching the competition from backstage, they, being on the most part close to the Trebles, had come to support them in what would probably be the most important and big performance of each of their lives. As Beca had come forward from her seat to wish them luck before they went on, she couldn’t help but over hear the rushed half argument half conversation the boys were having.

Benji spoke up, “He’s not going on.”

“Why not?” Beca inquired, confused and worried. This was not at all like Jesse. Jesse was an excitable, happy, jumpy nerd that was obsessed with movies and loved nothing more than strutting about on a stage showing off his natural prowess for singing and performing. Jesse was not the person that wouldn’t go on. Ever.

“He said he can’t,” Benji told her.

“Where is he?”

Beca followed the direction of Benji’s pointing finger around a corner and into a somewhat secluded corner of the backstage area. As soon as she saw Jesse she knew he was distressed and apprehensive, so, so nervous and the most anxious he’d ever been. She could tell from the way he held himself- shoulders slumped forward yet still held in a tense frame, rigid, his elbows resting on his knees, his face buried in his hands, his shaky exhales just further proving his unease.

She approached him slowly, standing just to the left of him as she picked a stray hair of the shoulder of his immaculate suit. Jesse had moved from the piano stool to a lower seat since Benji had left him as he felt that gravity had increased on him and if he was going to collapse he could at least not fall too far. Beca crouched down so she was level with him and clasped her hands with his on his lap. It was a gesture that he had often shown to her when she was nervous or upset and Beca knew from experience it was a simple yet immensely effective way to comfort.

“Jesse why aren’t you going on?” She asked quietly, giving him a small smile. “I can’t,” he whispered, his tone that of one experiencing a deep kind of pain.

“Why can’t you?”

Jesse’s eyes were fixated on their interlinked fingers while Beca squeezed his hands in hers to reassure him and make him feel better, or at least able to answer her question.

“If I fuck up,” his voice wavered dangerously, “Bec, if I fuck up I might as well just give up now. My future is over if I screw up that solo and there are so many people-” he breathed, “I’ll fuck up and my career in anything music related will be ruined.”

“Yeah,” Beca shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah you could fuck up.” She told him bluntly. “You could blow chunks all over the audience, you could collapse on stage in front of everyone,” her tone of voice was so casual that is surprised Jesse. He had at least expected her to try and make him feel a tiny bit better. “You could sound like a rusty old foghorn, or a group of strangled cats. Your voice could crack mid verse. Your pants could fall down; you could shit yourself on stage.”

“Surprisingly this is making me feel so much worse.” Jesse said, he was angry- but with himself, he was frustrated- but with himself.

“That’s my point Jesse. You could forget the words or the choreography, you could be so awful that every single person in that audience will be booing you and should that happen you will feel much worse than you do now,” Beca said. “But no matter how many might people boo you, or how badly you might fuck up on that stage, I will still be clapping and yelling for you, I will still be so proud of you for going out there and giving it your all. No matter how bad the reviews may be I’ll give all the critics the finger.” She told him.

“Your pants and boxers could fall down, your hair could catch fire, you could vomit all over the stage and then collapse in it and I will still be here and I will still love you.” Beca took her hands away from his lap and straightened his tie before pulling him up. “Now go on that stage and kill it.”

“And if they do boo me?” Jesse asked as he heard the Treblemakers being introduced.

“The Bellas can make enough noise to drown them out.” Beca smiled, not failing to notice the small grin pulling at the corners of his lips- even if his hands were still shaking.

They didn’t boo him. His pants didn’t fall down. He didn’t throw up or collapse or catch fire. He didn’t sound like a group of dying cats or a rusty old foghorn. He didn’t even mess up once. It was, by a long shot, the best performance they had ever given as a group, the best performance Jesse had ever given as an individual and, the best performance of the competition that night.

So when the boys walked off stage, even although Jesse was still shaking, they felt amazing. Beca had engulfed Jesse in a hug the second he was backstage, squeezing him tightly in her arms and loving the feeling of him hugging her back as she whispered, “I’m so proud of you,” into his ear, “and I love you so, so much.”