Someone to stay

~ Bury It ~

Pov Beca

- Okay, guys, let's take a break! We're doing great! 

We've been stuck in the recording studio for almost 3 weeks to complete the album. Only in the evening, late at night, do we go back to our homes exclusively to sleep, sometimes not even that, and the next morning we are here again. 3 weeks. And I was hoping that she would text or call me. What an idiot. Once again. I don't know why I still hope for something that will never change. It's really the last to die, but I really wish it was extinct. It would spare me the continuous vain illusion of being able to see her through the door of my studio, or home, or even on the street, at any time, day or night, and perhaps, just by looking at her, she would understand that I am what she wants. You're just dreaming Beca, not even in the best romantic and honeyed films does it happen. Behave yourself. 

Needless to say, I jumped headfirst into work, I practically live here. I'm the only one who has the keys to the studio, besides Joe and Ester, and I'm here more than it was supposed to be. If I've seen my house four times in all this time, it's even too much. Not to mention the evenings when I necessarily happened to work as a DJ, at this point I think there's more coffee in my veins than blood. A week ago, or two days ago, I don't have much of a time concept lately, I also went to the hospital for the usual check-up I'm forced to do after the operation. It seems that everything is okay, but they still wanted to perform the blood tests and they want me to have a CT scan to prevent any other kind of problem. What a pain in the ass. Just because they've seen me particularly tired. I'd like to see that. Not that I make a life exactly quiet. However, after all that has happened, any sign of discomfort, even the most insignificant, can turn out to be an alarm bell. So I have to do it. I cannot protest. Mainly because I have that Shepherd hawk that controls me, and that always stays well informed on my condition, although she is divided between LA and Seattle. 

I've bonded a lot more with the guys than I've done recently. They are good friends, and they believe a lot in our work, in our group. I think there is nothing better than working and spending almost all your day with people who motivate you, who believe in you and who you learn to know and accept even in their most absurd oddities. Like Dustin and his craze with sticks. He has to rub them with a rag for at least 5 minutes before he starts playing. And trouble if you stop it. It's a ritual. Or Alex who snaps her left index finger and always has chewing gum between her teeth, making bubbles at the wrong time. Like when she forget her microphone is on and we're recording. We'd like to strangle her sometimes, but I think she's already at risk with her chewingum. I thought I was interested in her, not just in a friendly sense, but I was wrong. And I think she has really understood my situation. Maybe it's for the best, it would just have made things more messy. 

- Joe, can we have some fun? 

I turn to Tom who throws a cunning glance at Joe, who seems to have a question mark instead of a face. A bit like everyone else, except those three pesky boys.

- Well, it seemed to me like you were already having fun. Anyway, go ahead, it's your break after all. 

Joe adds smiling and coming out of the recording booth to settle beyond the glass that separates it from the rest of the studio. I notice how on the couch there are Ester and Blake talking excitedly about a new gossip affair among Hollywood celebrities. What a great depth. But I'm sure it's Blake who pulled out this debate, and Ester is too good to back her off. 

In all of this, I still don't understand what Tom is going to do, so I quickly look at the last scores that Joe and I produced, so I can keep the sequence in mind and avoid making mistakes during the last recordings. The album is due to be ready in a few days, and we're all in ferment. We can't afford mistakes.