Chapter Text
The late afternoon sun cast elongated shadows across the verdant expanse of Barden University's main quad, its golden rays filtering through the meticulously manicured canopy of oak and maple trees that bordered the walkways.
Students meandered across the emerald lawn in clusters, their voices creating a symphony of overlapping conversations that ebbed and flowed like waves against the ivy-covered brick facades of the surrounding academic buildings. The air carried the crisp bite of early autumn, tinged with the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the distant aroma of coffee wafting from the campus café.
Beca Mitchell walked alongside her lifelong companion, Benjamin Applebaum—though everyone had called him Benji since they were seven years old and he'd insisted that "Benjamin" was far too formal for someone who could make quarters disappear behind people's ears. Her worn combat boots scuffed rhythmically against the concrete pathway, each step deliberate yet somehow reluctant, as if she were perpetually on the verge of changing direction entirely. Her dark hair fell in carefully tousled waves that she'd spent exactly three minutes arranging to look like she hadn't spent any time on it at all.
Her aim is to look as non-chalant as possible. She's pretty non-chalant, right?
Hopefully.
God, I should probably be studying right now, she mused internally, her steel-blue eyes scanning the quad with the detached observation of someone who'd rather be anywhere else. That music theory assignment isn't going to write itself, and Professor Hendricks already thinks I'm some kind of slacker just because I prefer actual music to his boring lectures about dead composers.
Though then again, she's been slacking off on everything recently — sleeping and skipping classes rather than actually trying. It got so bad that her dear old dad had to have a talk with her about it.
Benji, meanwhile, practically vibrated with nervous energy beside her, his hands gesticulating wildly as he spoke in rapid-fire bursts that occasionally dissolved into unintelligible mumbling. The vintage Star Wars t-shirt he wore beneath his open cardigan was wrinkled from where he'd been unconsciously tugging at the fabric, a nervous habit that Beca had witnessed through countless anxiety-inducing situations over the years.
"I mean, I know I probably didn't nail the audition," Benji was saying, his voice rising and falling in pitch as his words tumbled over each other. "Like, my voice cracked twice during some of the backing harmonies they told me to try for 'Since U Been Gone'—which, okay, maybe wasn't the most original song choice, but it's a classic, right? And classics are classic for a reason, which is that they're... well, they're classic. But then again, maybe I should have gone with something else like you did? Something more contemporary? Or something that showed off my range better? Do you think my range is too limited? I mean, I can hit a high C, but only on good days when I've had enough sleep and haven't been eating dairy, and—"
"Benji," Beca interrupted gently, her voice carrying that particular tone of patient affection that came from years of practice in navigating her best friend's anxious spirals. "Breathe. You're gonna hyperventilate and pass out right here on the quad, and it'll be way too awkward for me to explain why you passed out to the paramedics."
Benji took an exaggerated deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically. "Right. Breathing. That's... that's important for singers, actually. Proper diaphragmatic breathing is essential for maintaining pitch and—" He caught himself mid-ramble and shook his head vigorously. "Sorry. I'm just... I'm so nervous, Beca. This is the Treblemakers we're talking about. The Treblemakers! They're non-stop ICCA winners, and their arrangements are absolutely incredible. Did you know that their version of 'Uptown Funk' from two years ago incorporated elements of beatboxing that were so complex they actually—"
"I know, dude," Beca said, adjusting the strap of her worn leather messenger bag as it threatened to slip from her shoulder. The bag was one of her most prized possessions—a graduation gift from her mother that had traveled with her through countless late-night music production sessions. "You've only told me about seventeen thousand times since we got to Barden. I'm pretty sure I could recite their entire performance history from memory at this point."
Not that I particularly want to, she thought, though she kept that observation to herself. Benji's enthusiasm for a cappella music was something she'd learned to tolerate—and even appreciate, in small doses—over the years. His passion was infectious, even if she didn't entirely understand it. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about vocal arrangements and harmonies reminded her of how she felt when she discovered a particularly perfect bass line or stumbled across an obscure remix that somehow made a song completely new again.
"But seriously," she continued, her voice softening as she noticed the genuine worry creeping into his expression, "you're gonna be fine, okay? You've got a great voice, and you know more about music theory than half the professors in this place. Plus, you've been practicing for months."
Years, actually, she corrected mentally. Benji had been preparing for this moment since their junior year of high school, when he'd first discovered Barden's a cappella scene on YouTube and become completely obsessed. She'd sat through countless practice sessions in his bedroom, listening to him work through scales and vocal exercises while she pretended to do homework but was actually mixing tracks on her laptop.
Benji's face brightened slightly, though the nervous tension remained evident in the way his fingers drummed against his thigh. "You really think so? I mean, I know I can sing, but competition is probably going to be fierce. And you know how I get around... around groups of people who might judge me. What if I freeze up? What if my voice cracks again? What if they ask me to improvise and my brain just... stops working? Because that happens, I tend to black out a lot during scary social situations."
"Then you'll figure it out," Beca said with characteristic pragmatism. "You always do. Remember that time in eighth grade when you had to give that presentation about the solar system and you were so nervous you threw up in the hallway beforehand?"
"Ugh, please don't remind me," Benji groaned, his cheeks flushing pink at the memory. "That was mortifying."
"But you still gave the presentation," Beca pointed out. "And you got an A-plus. Mrs. Henderson said it was one of the most thorough and creative projects she'd ever seen."
"Only because I spent three weeks building that scale model of Jupiter's moons," Benji muttered, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Exactly. You put in the work, and it paid off. This is the same thing." Beca paused, considering her next words carefully. She'd never been particularly good at the whole encouragement thing—that had always been more Benji's forte when it came to their friendship—but she could see how much this meant to him. "Look, I don't know much about... well, any of this a cappella stuff. But I know you, and I know that when you care about something this much, you usually find a way to make it work."
Even if 'making it work' sometimes involves color-coded spreadsheets and obsessive levels of preparation, she added silently, thinking of the detailed practice schedule Benji had taped to his bedroom wall back at home.
They continued walking in comfortable silence for a few moments, the sounds of campus life continuing around them. A group of girls near the fountain were laughing at something on one of their phones, their voices carrying across the quad in bright, melodic bursts. Somewhere behind them, a guy was playing acoustic guitar—badly, in Beca's professional opinion—while his friends provided equally off-key vocal accompaniment.
College is weird, she reflected, not for the first time since arriving at Barden. Everyone seemed so... enthusiastic about everything. Group activities, school spirit, social events—all the things that had made her feel like an outsider in high school seemed to be amplified here to an almost aggressive degree. She'd been hoping that college would be different, that she'd finally find her tribe of fellow music nerds who preferred headphones to conversation and late-night studio sessions to dorm room parties. Instead, she seemed to be surrounded by people who wanted to turn everything into a group activity.
"I'm really glad you're finally giving this a chance, you know," Benji said suddenly, breaking into her contemplations. His voice carried a note of genuine warmth that made her look over at him more closely. "I mean, I know you only auditioned because of... well, because of what happened in the shower—"
"Let's not talk about the shower incident," Beca interrupted quickly, feeling heat rise in her cheeks at the memory. "That was... that was a very strange day, and I'm still not entirely sure what happened there."
Other than the fact that some crazy redhead with apparently zero understanding of personal boundaries decided to stage an impromptu duet while I was trying to wash my hair, she thought, the embarrassment still fresh despite several days having passed. The whole encounter had been so bizarre that she sometimes wondered if she'd imagined it entirely. Normal people didn't just burst into other people's showers and start singing, right? That was the kind of thing that only happened in movies or dreams or very strange fever-induced hallucinations.
"Right, sorry, sorry," Benji said, though his grin suggested he found her discomfort amusing. "But still! I'm excited that you're exploring this world with me. A cappella music is so much more complex and interesting than most people realise. The way voices can blend together to create harmonies that are literally impossible to achieve with instruments, the rhythmic possibilities of vocal percussion, the pure artistry involved in taking a song and completely reimagining it using only the human voice—"
"Okay, okay," Beca said, holding up one hand in mock surrender. "I get it. It's very cool and impressive and probably involves more music theory than my brain can handle on a Tuesday afternoon."
Though I have to admit, she thought reluctantly, some of those arrangements he's shown me on YouTube were actually pretty impressive. Not that I'd ever tell him that directly—his ego couldn't handle the validation.
"But seriously," she continued, "I hope you get in. I know how much this means to you, and you deserve to be part of something that makes you this happy."
Benji's entire face lit up with one of those brilliant, unguarded smiles that reminded Beca why they'd been best friends for so long. Despite his anxiety and tendency to overthink everything, there was something infectious about his enthusiasm. He approached the world with a kind of open-hearted optimism that she sometimes envied, even if she'd never admit it out loud.
"Thanks, Beca. That... that really means a lot." He paused, then added with characteristic earnestness, "And I hope you get into the Bellas too. I mean, I know you're not as excited about it as I am about the Treblemakers, but I think it could be really good for you. Maybe help you connect with people who share your musical interests, you know?"
Doubtful, Beca thought, though she kept her scepticism to herself.
"Maybe," she said diplomatically. "Though I have to ask—what was that thing you mentioned earlier about a puking incident? That sounded... concerning."
Benji's expression immediately shifted, his eyes darting away from hers in a way that suggested he regretted bringing up the topic at all. "Oh, that. It's... well, it's probably not important. Just something that happened at last year's ICCA finals."
"Benji." Beca's voice carried a note of warning that he recognised from years of friendship. It was the same tone she'd used when they were kids and she suspected he was hiding something—like the time he'd broken her mom's favorite vase and tried to convince her that the cat had done it, despite the fact that they did not own a cat.
"It's.. not really my story to tell," he said, fidgeting with the strap of his backpack. "And besides, that was last year. I'm sure this year will be completely different."
Oh, that's definitely not ominous at all, Beca thought, making a mental note to do some research of her own later. Whatever had happened at the ICCA finals was clearly significant enough to make Benji uncomfortable, which meant it was probably the kind of drama she'd rather know about before potentially getting involved with the group.
Before she could press him further, they reached the entrance to Morrison Hall, one of the newer dormitory buildings on campus. The structure rose four stories above them, its red brick facade and white-trimmed windows designed to match the university's traditional architectural style while incorporating modern amenities like the electronic keycard access system and energy-efficient windows.
"Jesse should be in the room," Benji said, pulling his student ID from his wallet and swiping it through the card reader beside the glass doors. "He was planning to spend the afternoon organising his movie collection, which apparently requires a very specific organisational system based on genre, director, and year of release."
Of course it does, Beca thought, already bracing herself for what was bound to be an awkward encounter. Jesse Swanson—the guy who seemed to appear everywhere she went lately, like some kind of overly enthusiastic specter with an impressive knowledge of film trivia and an apparent inability to pick up on social cues. He wasn't completely unpleasant, exactly, but there was something about his relentless optimism and tendency to burst into song at random moments that made her feel like she was trapped in someone else's musical theatre audition.
They climbed the stairs to the third floor, their footsteps echoing in the utilitarian stairwell with its industrial carpeting and fluorescent lighting. Benji continued chattering nervously about auditions and harmonies and vocal ranges, his voice bouncing off the concrete walls in a way that made him sound even more anxious than usual.
Poor guy's really worked up about this, Beca observed, watching the way his hands fluttered as he spoke. She'd seen him get nervous before—before big tests, first dates, family gatherings—but this was different. This felt bigger, more significant. Like he was pinning all his hopes for college social success on getting accepted into this group.
Which, knowing Benji, he probably was.
They reached the dorm, and Benji knocked on the door with a characteristic rhythm—three quick taps followed by two slower ones. It was a pattern they'd developed in elementary school as a way to identify themselves to each other, and apparently old habits died hard.
"Come in!" called a voice from inside, warm and slightly muffled by the closed door.
Benji pushed the door open to reveal a typical double dorm room that had been transformed into something that looked more like a combination movie museum and recording studio. One half of the room—presumably Jesse's—was dominated by towering shelves of DVDs organised with almost military precision, while the walls were covered with movie posters ranging from classic films noir to contemporary indie comedies. The other half contained Benji's collection of musical equipment, magic supplies, and what appeared to be a large shrine dedicated to the original Star Wars trilogy.
Jesse Swanson was sitting cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by stacks of DVDs and armed with what looked like a label maker. His vintage t-shirt—today featuring the logo from some obscure 1980s movie she didn't recognise—was paired with well-worn jeans that had clearly seen better days.
"Hey, Benji," he said, looking up with a grin that immediately shifted to something brighter and more focused when he noticed Beca. "Oh, hey! Beca, right? We keep running into each other."
Unfortunately, she thought, though she managed to produce what she hoped was a polite smile but felt more like a grimace. "Yeah, we do. It's like you're everywhere I go."
"Must be fate," Jesse said with that particular brand of confidence that somehow managed to be both charming and slightly irritating. "Or destiny. Or maybe just the fact that Barden's campus is smaller than it looks and there are only so many places to grab decent coffee."
Or maybe you're just really good at showing up wherever I happen to be, Beca thought, though she had to admit that his explanation was probably more logical than any kind of elaborate stalking scheme. "Probably the coffee thing. This place doesn't exactly have a lot of dining options."
Jesse set aside his label maker and shifted to face them more fully, his attention clearly focused on her in a way that made her feel slightly uncomfortable. It wasn't that he was being inappropriate or invasive—just very... present. Like he was genuinely interested in whatever she might have to say, which was both mildly flattering and quite overwhelming.
"So I heard you sing during auditions," he said, his tone casual but carrying an undertone of genuine interest. "I have to say, I didn't peg you for an a cappella girl."
Beca shrugged, settling her messenger bag more securely against her hip. "I'm not, really. I mean, I don't think I am. This whole thing is pretty new to me."
And probably temporary, she added silently. Once I prove to Dad that I'm actually participating in college activities, I can go back to focusing on real music production and working toward getting to LA.
"Then what made you audition?" Jesse asked, and there was something in his voice—curiosity, maybe, or genuine interest—that made the question feel less like an interrogation and more like actual conversation.
"I did it for Benji," Beca said, glancing over at her best friend, who was now sitting at his desk and attempting to look casual despite the fact that he was clearly eavesdropping on every word. "He's been obsessed with the whole a cappella scene since we got here, so I figured I'd... I don't know. Give it a shot, I guess."
And because some crazy redhead ambushed me in the shower and somehow convinced me that I could actually sing in front of people without dying of embarrassment, she added mentally, though that particular detail seemed like something she could keep to herself.
"That's really cool of you," Jesse said, and the sincerity in his voice caught her off guard. "Not everyone would be willing to step outside their comfort zone like that for a friend."
"Yeah, well," Beca said, feeling heat creep up her neck at the unexpected compliment. "Benji would do the same for me. We've been friends since we were kids."
"How long exactly?" Jesse asked, settling back against his pillows as if he was genuinely interested in hearing the story. It was a simple question, but something about the way he asked it—like he really wanted to know, rather than just making polite conversation—made her pause.
"Since kindergarten," Benji answered when Beca hesitated. "Our moms were in the same book club, so we ended up at a lot of the same playdates. Beca was the only kid who didn't run away screaming when I showed her my magic tricks."
That's because your magic tricks were actually pretty good, Beca thought fondly. Unlike Samuel Thompson, who thought making ants disappear by stepping on them was cool.
"Really?" Jesse's eyebrows rose with interest. "You do magic?"
"Card tricks, mostly," Benji said, his cheeks flushing slightly with the attention. "Some sleight of hand, a few mentalism techniques. Nothing too dramatic."
"That's awesome," Jesse said with what seemed like genuine enthusiasm. "I'd love to see some tricks sometime. I'm a sucker for good sleight of hand."
"Maybe later," Benji said, practically glowing with the positive attention. "Right now we're mostly focused on audition results. I'm, uh, kind of nervous about whether I made it into the Treblemakers."
"Oh man, that's right," Jesse said, sitting up straighter. "When are results supposed to come out?"
"Today, supposedly," Benji replied, glancing at his phone as if the notification might appear at any moment. "They said they'd post the list outside the music building by five o'clock."
Beca checked her own phone and was surprised to see that it was already four-thirty. "We should probably head over there soon, then. You know, if you want to find out sooner rather than later."
Not that I'm particularly invested in the outcome, she told herself, though she had to admit that a small part of her was curious to see whether she'd actually made it onto the Bellas roster. Not because she desperately wanted to be part of the group, but because... well, because it would be nice to know that she was capable of succeeding at something completely outside her comfort zone.
"Good thinking," Benji said, already reaching for his coat — something Beca recognised as his 'security coat', something he would wear whenever anxious as it brought him comfort. "Jesse, do you want to come with us? I mean, you don't have to, but—"
"Are you kidding?" Jesse interrupted, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I wouldn't miss this. Besides, it's not every day I get to witness potentially life-changing news being delivered via bulletin board."
'Life-changing' might be a bit dramatic, Beca thought, though she could see from Benji's expression that he didn't disagree with the assessment. For him, getting into the Treblemakers really would be life-changing—or at least college-changing, which in his current world view probably amounted to the same thing.
"Cool," Benji said, his voice cracking slightly with renewed nervousness. "That's... yeah, that would be great. It's always good to have moral support."
Jesse grabbed a light jacket from his closet and ran a hand through his hair in a gesture that seemed unconscious but somehow made it look annoyingly perfectly tousled. "All right then. Let's go find out if we're about to become Barden's newest a cappella sensations."
The three of them made their way back through the dorm and onto campus, the late afternoon sun now casting longer shadows across the quad. More students were out than before—probably because afternoon classes were ending—and there was a general sense of energy and anticipation in the air that seemed to match Benji's nervous excitement.
"So what happens if you do get in?" Jesse asked as they walked. "I mean, what's the time commitment like? Do you have to perform at every football game, or is it more of a competition thing?"
"Both, actually," Benji said, his voice taking on the slightly lecturing tone it always acquired when he discussed subjects he was passionate about. "The Treblemakers perform at various campus events throughout the year, but the main focus is preparing for the ICCA tournament. That's the International Championship of Collegiate A Cappella—basically the Olympics of college singing groups."
'The Olympics of college singing groups', Beca repeated mentally, trying to decide whether that sounded impressive or ridiculous. Probably both.
"And if you win?" Jesse prompted.
"Well, theoretically you could go on to compete professionally, or use it as a stepping stone into the music industry," Benji explained. "But mostly it's about the prestige and the experience. Plus, being part of a successful a cappella group looks really good on graduate school applications."
They were approaching the music building now, and Beca could see a small crowd gathered around what was presumably the bulletin board where results would be posted. Her stomach gave an unexpected flutter of nerves, which surprised her. She'd thought she genuinely didn't care whether she made it into the Bellas or not, but apparently some part of her was more invested in the outcome than she'd realised.
Probably just anxiety about disappointing Benji, she told herself. He's so excited about all this that I'd hate for him to think his enthusiasm rubbed off on me only for me to get rejected.
"There," Benji said, pointing toward a cluster of students near the main entrance. "That's got to be where they posted the lists."
As they got closer, Beca could see that there were indeed two sheets of paper taped to a large cork board, each surrounded by small groups of students. Some were celebrating—she could hear excited squeals and congratulations—while others were walking away with disappointed expressions.
"Okay," Benji said, stopping abruptly about ten feet from the board. "I'm... I'm suddenly terrified to look."
"Do you want me to check for you?" Beca offered, recognising the signs of an impending anxiety spiral. "I can go look and come back and tell you."
"No, no, I–I should do it myself," Benji said, though he made no move toward the bulletin board. "It's just... what if I didn't make it? What if they thought I was too weird, or my voice wasn't good enough, or—"
"Benji," Jesse interrupted gently. "Whatever happens, it's not going to change anything important. You'll still be the same person, with the same talents and the same friends. Getting into a college singing group doesn't define your worth as a human being."
Beca tilted her head, glancing at Jesse with new respect. It was rare that people actually tried to befriend Benji rather than treat him like a freak just because he's a little different.
Benji took a deep breath and nodded. "Right. You're absolutely right. It's just... it's just an extracurricular activity. It's not the end of the world."
Though try telling him that if his name isn't on the list, Beca thought, though she was proud of her friend for trying to keep things in perspective.
"Come on," she said, linking her arm through his in a gesture of support. "Let's go see what the damage is."
The three of them approached the bulletin board together, and Beca could feel Benji's tension radiating through their linked arms. The first sheet was titled "Barden Treblemakers - New Members!!!" in bold block letters, followed by a list of names in alphabetical order. Benji's eyes scanned the list quickly, his expression shifting from hopeful to confused to disappointed in the space of about ten seconds.
"I..." He started, then stopped, staring at the list as if the names might rearrange themselves if he looked long enough.
Beca followed his gaze and quickly scanned the names herself. It didn't take long — shockingly, there seemed to only be two new additions to the Treblemakers.
"McMillan, Swanson..." Beca muttered, eyes scanning over and over again as if expecting another name to magically appear.
...No Applebaum anywhere to be found.
Shit, she thought, her heart sinking for her friend. I really thought he'd make it.
"I'm sorry, Benji," Jesse said quietly, and Beca was surprised by the genuine sympathy in his voice. "That really sucks."
"It's... it's fine," Benji said, though his voice was slightly strangled. "I mean, I knew it was a long shot. Competition was probably really fierce this year."
It's not fine, Beca thought, watching her best friend try to hold himself together in public. This is definitely not fine.
"Hey," she said, squeezing his arm. "Their loss, okay? Seriously. They obviously don't know talent when they see it."
Before Benji could respond, Jesse spoke up again. "Wait—did you say Swanson? As in Jesse Swanson?"
All three of them turned to look at the list again, and sure enough, there it was: "Swanson, Jesse" listed among the new Treblemaker members.
"Holy shit," Jesse said, his eyes widening. "I... I actually made it?"
Well, that's just perfect, Beca thought, watching Jesse's face transform with excitement while Benji tried to look happy for him. The universe has a really twisted sense of humour sometimes.
"Congratulations," Benji said, and to his credit, he managed to sound genuinely pleased despite his own disappointment. "That's... that's really great, Jesse. You're going to love it."
"Thanks, man," Jesse said, though he seemed to be picking up on the awkwardness of the situation. "I mean, I'm sorry you didn't—"
"Don't," Benji interrupted gently. "Don't apologise for succeeding. That's not how friendship works."
God, I love him. This is why I'm friends with him, Beca thought, feeling a surge of fierce protectiveness toward her best friend. He's disappointed and trying not to show it, and he's still being gracious to someone who got what he wanted.
"Uhm... What about the Bellas?" Jesse asked, clearly trying to shift focus away from the awkward moment. "Beca, did you check to see if you made it?"
Honestly, Beca had almost forgotten about her own audition results in the drama of Benji's disappointment. She turned to the second sheet, which was headed "Barden Bellas - New Recruits" in similarly bold lettering.
The list was a lot longer than the Treblemakers' total of two, with nine names total. She scanned it quickly: Adams, Conrad, Gould, Hester, Hobart, Jones, Mitchell, Onakuramara, Sims, Smith...
Wait.
"Mitchell, Rebecca," she read aloud, her voice slightly incredulous. "I... I actually made it."
How the hell did that happen? she wondered, staring at her name on the official university letterhead. I showed up late, didn't sing the right audition song and instead sang something that barely portrayed my vocal range, and basically acted like I didn't want to be there. Which I didn't.
"Beca, that's amazing!" Benji exclaimed, and his excitement seemed genuine despite his own disappointment. "I'm so proud of you!"
"Thanks," she said, still processing the information. "I honestly didn't think... I mean, I wasn't really trying that hard."
"Well, you must have impressed them somehow," Jesse said with a grin. "Congratulations. This is really cool—now we'll both be part of Barden's a cappella scene."
Lucky me, Beca thought sarcastically, though she found herself oddly pleased by the news despite her general ambivalence toward the whole thing. There was something satisfying about succeeding at something she hadn't expected to be good at.
"So what happens now?" She asked, looking between Jesse and Benji. "Do they send instructions, or do we just show up somewhere and hope for the best?"
"They'll probably contact you with rehearsal schedules and performance requirements," Benji said, his voice taking on that slightly wistful tone that suggested he'd researched this process extensively. "Most groups start intensive training right away, especially if they're preparing for ICCA competition season."
Intensive training, Beca repeated mentally. That sounds... intensive.
"That reminds me," Jesse said, pulling out his phone. "I should probably text my parents and let them know. They're going to flip out—my mom's been hoping I'd get involved in music again ever since I stopped taking piano lessons in high school."
As Jesse stepped away to make his phone call, Beca found herself alone with Benji for the first time since they'd discovered the results. His carefully maintained composure was starting to crack around the edges, and she could see the disappointment he'd been trying to hide.
"Hey," she said quietly, moving closer so their conversation wouldn't be overheard by the other students still lingering around the bulletin board. "You okay?"
Benji attempted a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. Disappointed, obviously, but fine. It's not like this was my only chance to be involved in music at Barden."
But it was the thing you wanted most, Beca thought, wishing there was something she could say to make it better. And now you get to watch your roommate live out your dream while you're stuck on the sidelines.
"I'm sorry," she said inadequately. "This really sucks."
"It does suck," Benji agreed, and there was something relieving about him finally acknowledging his disappointment. "I really thought... I mean, I've been preparing for this for months. I know every Treblemaker arrangement from the last five years, I've practiced until my voice was hoarse, I even bought new audition clothes."
Jesus.
"But," Benji continued, straightening his shoulders in a gesture she recognised as his attempt to rally himself, "Jesse's right. This doesn't define me, and it's not the end of the world. There are other musical opportunities on campus, and maybe this just means I'm supposed to find a different path."
There's the Benji I know, she thought with relief. Disappointed but not defeated.
"Besides," he added with a grin that looked more genuine this time, "now I get to live vicariously through both you and Jesse. I'll be like your unofficial a cappella consultant."
"Lucky us," Beca said dryly, though she was smiling. "I'm sure we'll need all the help we can get."
Jesse rejoined them, sliding his phone back into his pocket with a satisfied expression. "My mom literally screamed when I told her. I think she's already planning to drive down for our first performance."
Your first performance, Beca thought, the reality of what she'd signed up for starting to sink in. Holy shit, I'm actually going to have to perform. In front of people. On purpose.
"That's really sweet," Benji said, adjusting his coat with nervous fingers. "Family support makes such a difference in competitive performance situations."
Jesse nodded enthusiastically, his sandy hair catching the late afternoon light filtering through the nearby windows. "Yeah, she's always been my biggest cheerleader. Even when I was going through my awkward middle school phase where I thought I was going to be the next John Hughes."
"John Hughes?" Beca found herself asking before she could stop herself, genuinely curious despite her general policy of not encouraging Jesse's tendency toward elaborate pop culture references.
Why am I even asking? Now he's going to think I actually want to hear about his weird obsession with eighties movies.
Jesse's face lit up with the kind of enthusiasm typically reserved for discovering twenty-dollar bills in old jacket pockets. "The director! Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Home Alone, Pretty in Pink? He basically defined the entire teen movie genre and created this incredible template for—"
There it is.
"Ah," Beca interrupted, recognising the onset of what was probably going to be a twenty-minute lecture on film history. "Got it. Movies."
Jesus Christ, this guy really can turn anything into a dissertation, she thought, though she had to admit there was something oddly endearing about how genuinely excited he got about the things he cared about. It reminded her of Benji's enthusiasm for a cappella, or her own passion for music production—that kind of pure, unfiltered interest that made people light up from the inside.
"Sorry," Jesse said with a slightly embarrassed laugh, running a hand through his hair in what she was beginning to recognise as a nervous habit. "I get a little carried away when it comes to movies. Occupational hazard of joining the film club in high school, I guess. We spent a lot of time discussing pop culture."
"Speaking of which," Jesse continued, and there was something in his tone—a kind of casual hopefulness—that made Beca look at him more closely. "I was thinking, since we're both going to be involved in Barden's music scene now, maybe we could grab coffee sometime and compare notes? You know, share war stories from our respective a cappella experiences?"
The suggestion hung in the air between them, and Beca found herself processing it with the kind of careful consideration she usually reserved for mixing complicated tracks. On the surface, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable proposal—two people with shared interests getting to know each other better. But there was something in Jesse's expression, a particular quality to his smile, that suggested he might be hoping for more than just casual friendship.
Or maybe I'm overthinking it, she told herself. Maybe he's just being friendly. It's not like every guy who talks to me is automatically trying to ask me out. Jesus, what is happening to me? I'm thinking like those blondes on the cheerleading team back in high school.
"Yeah, sure," she said finally, aiming for the kind of casual tone that wouldn't give him the wrong idea but also wouldn't hurt his feelings. "That could be fun. I mean, I don't know how much I'll have to share, since I'm basically going into this blind, but..."
"That's perfect," Jesse said, his grin widening in a way that made her wonder if she'd accidentally said something more encouraging than she'd intended. "I mean, not perfect that you're going in blind—that's probably pretty nerve-wracking—but perfect that we can figure it out together. The whole college music scene thing."
Together, Beca repeated mentally, noting the way he'd emphasised the word. Okay, so maybe he is hoping for more than friendship. Great. How do I navigate this without being a complete bitch?
Benji, meanwhile, seemed completely oblivious to any underlying romantic tension, his attention still focused on the bulletin board with the kind of determined concentration that suggested he was trying to memorise every detail. "So the Treblemakers have twelve members total now," he observed, his voice carrying that slightly wistful quality that meant he was working hard to sound interested rather than disappointed. "That's a really good size for complex harmonies. You'll probably be able to do some incredible arrangements with that many voices."
Bless him, Beca thought with an inaudible sigh. He's trying so hard to be supportive even though this has to be killing him inside.
"What about the Bellas?" Jesse asked, genuine curiosity replacing the slightly flirtatious undertone that had colored his previous comments. "How many new members did they take?"
Beca turned back to the second list, counting names more carefully this time. "Ten new members, so twelve total with the two who were already in the group."
"Solid!" Benji grinned, nodding along, seeming genuinely pleased. "The Trebles and Bellas have been known to be rivals for a while now, so the fact that they have equal members is great!"
"Well," Jesse said, glancing at his watch, "I should probably head back and start researching Treblemaker history. I have a feeling I'm going to need to catch up on about a decade's worth of group traditions and inside jokes."
Good luck with that, Beca thought. If Benji's obsession with them is any indication, you're going to need a spreadsheet just to keep track of all the trivia.
"That's probably smart," Benji agreed. "The Treblemakers have a really rich history of musical innovation and competitive success. Did you know that their 2019 arrangement of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' was featured in Collegiate A Cappella Magazine as one of the—"
"Benji," Beca interrupted gently, recognising the signs of an impending infodump. "Maybe save the history lesson for later? Jesse probably wants to discover some of this stuff for himself."
And I don't think my brain can handle another detailed analysis of vocal arrangements right now.
"Right, sorry," Benji said with an embarrassed laugh. "Uhm, I get a little... enthusiastic about these things."
"It's cool," Jesse assured him. "I actually appreciate the enthusiasm. It's nice to know there are people who are genuinely passionate about this stuff." He shouldered his backpack and headed toward the door, then paused and turned back toward Beca. "Hey, seriously though—congratulations on making the Bellas. I know this wasn't really your thing, but I have a feeling you're going to be great at it."
There was something in his voice when he said it—a kind of quiet confidence that suggested he genuinely believed what he was saying rather than just offering empty encouragement. It caught Beca off guard, the sincerity of it, and she found herself meeting his eyes for a moment longer than she'd intended.
"Uh, thanks," she said, and was surprised to find that she actually meant it. "Good luck with the Treblemakers. Try not to let them turn you into one of those guys who bursts into song in the middle of conversation."
Though he often already does that, she added silently.
"No promises," Jesse said with a grin that suggested he was absolutely going to become exactly that type of person. "See you around, Beca. Benji."
As Jesse disappeared through the doors of the music building, Beca found herself alone with Benji once again. The late afternoon crowd around the bulletin board was starting to thin out as students either celebrated their acceptances or dealt with their rejections, leaving behind the usual campus atmosphere of overlapping conversations and distant music from someone's portable speaker.
"So," Benji said after a moment, his voice carefully neutral. "Looks like we're both going to be part of Barden's musical landscape now. Just... in different ways than we expected."
Shit, that came out more melancholy than I think he meant it to, Beca thought, studying her best friend's profile as he stared at the Treblemaker list with obvious longing.
"Benji—" she started, but he shook his head quickly.
"I'm okay, really. And I'm genuinely excited for you about the Bellas thing. This could be really good for you, you know? Force you to actually interact with people instead of hiding behind your headphones all the time." He chuckled.
"I do not 'hide behind my headphones'," she protested, though even as she said it, she became aware of the weight of her Beats hanging around her neck, ready to be deployed at the first sign of unwanted social interaction.
"Beca," Benji said with the patient tone of someone who'd been having this conversation for years. "You wore headphones to your high school graduation ceremony."
"That was for artistic reasons," she said aloud. "The music was objectively terrible."
"Uh-huh," Benji said with obvious skepticism. "And what about the time you wore them to your own birthday party?"
Beca winced. "The playlist was.. not what I requested," she said weakly.
"Your dad was playing jazz standards," Benji pointed out. "Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington. That's good music."
"It wasn't... it wasn't the right music for the moment," Beca said, struggling to articulate something she'd never really had to explain before. "I needed something with more energy, more... I don't know. More me."
More isolation, she admitted silently. More distance between me and all those people who were trying so hard to make my birthday about them instead of just letting me be.
Benji studied her with the kind of understanding expression that came from a lifetime of friendship. "That's exactly what I mean, though. You curate your entire world through music—which is amazing, don't get me wrong—but sometimes I think you use it to avoid connecting with people who might actually surprise you."
Jesus, when did Benji get so insightful? she wondered, feeling slightly unsettled by how accurately he'd managed to identify something she'd barely acknowledged to herself. And when did he start sounding like a psychology textbook?
"Maybe," she said noncommittally, not ready to fully engage with the implications of his observation. "Or maybe I just like good music more than small talk."
"They're not mutually exclusive," Benji said gently. "Anyway, the point is, I think this whole Bellas thing could be really good for you. Even if you go into it kicking and screaming."
"We'll see," she said with a turn of her head. "Right now I'm just trying to figure out what I've actually signed up for. Hopefully it's not some kind of cult situation where they make us wear matching outfits and chant in unison or something."
"I don't think it's a cult," Benji said, though there was a note of uncertainty in his voice that wasn't entirely reassuring. "Though from what I've heard, some of these groups do take their traditions pretty seriously."
Traditions, Beca repeated mentally. That doesn't sound ominous at all.