Me: Its been a while since I uploaded something, and because I'm just not feeling any of my multi-chapter stories, I've decided to write a one-shot. Last time it was a ToriXJade fic, now it's a BeckXJade. (With implied BeckXTrina.) Also, there may be a companion to this story, so look out for that. So...yeah. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own Beck Oliver or Jade West, and the lyrics to "Putting Holes In Happiness" belong to Marilyn Manson. (If you haven't heard the song, you should listen to it. It's very good.)
Sky was blonde like her;
Twenty-one year old Beck Oliver smiled at the blonde sitting across from him on the train. The young beauty smiled back, showing a row of perfect, white teeth that matched her porcelain skin. She was the image of perfection in Beck's eyes, wearing a tight Rolling Stones t-shirt and shorts that showed more than enough leg. A huge contrast from his last girl, who had been all olive-skin and artificial beauty, unlike the flawless woman sitting in front of him.
It was a day to take the child out back and shoot it,
He didn't know why he let himself thing of that, think of her. He knew he was just asking for trouble comparing Trina Vega to some woman-no, some girl-he sat near on the subway.
I could have buried all my dead up in her
cemetery head.
His previous relationship had gone down in flames, but that shouldn't have been a shock to him. Getting married right out of high-school had been a terrible idea. Getting married to Trina had been an even worse one.
She had dirty word witchcraft; I was in the
deep end of her skin.
Striking up a conversation with the practically underage girl from the train and treating her to coffee had been an even worse one.
Then, it seemed like a one car wreck,
But I knew it was a horrid tragedy.
He just hadn't known it yet.
Ways to make the tiny satisfaction
disappear.
Four years later, Beck learned that Jade West had ways of making the tiniest satisfactions disappear.
Blow out the candles,
On all my Frankenstein's,
At least my death wish will come true.
Beck sighed as he stared at the piece of chocolate cake that sat in front of him. His birthday had always been a special day. He had always had fun celebrating it with his friends, eating cake until he was sure he'd blow, ripping open the brightly wrapped presents that had mostly been from Cat and Tori.
But he just wanted this day to end, wanted it to die, because this birthday wasn't special. It wasn't fun and he didn't get any presents, simply because no one had come. And why had no one come, you ask? Because no one had been invited. And why had no one been invited?
Because Beck's girlfriend didn't like any of his friends, that's why.
You taste like Valentine's, and we cry,
You're like a birthday.
At first, when Jade had said she wanted to be the only guest at Beck's twenty-fourth birthday, he thought she had been kidding. Then he thought it was some kind of excuse for them to have wild-monkey sex.
Turns out it was because she was a raging bitch.
I should've picked the photograph,
it lasted longer than you.
When they had first gotten together, just a week before Valentine's Day, he had enjoyed every minute of her. In a way, she was like his birthday; he couldn't wait until she came around; got excited when she was close; loved it when she was there; looked forward to having her again, wished she never had to leave. She had been a fun-loving seventeen year-old who had completely brightened up his dull life. She would smile at him and his heart would speed up; her voice would soothe him, like a mother's coos soothed a crying infant. She had been the blonde eye-candy everyone wanted and only he could have.
She had been nothing like the raven-haired ice queen he was with now.
Put holes in happiness
We'll paint the future black if it needs a
color.
She dressed in all black, she made cruel, hateful comments, and she was one shot away from drinking herself to death. Any hope of having a future with her was gone, had burned in the fire that was Jade. Beck had no idea where this black-hearted woman had come from. All he knew was he wanted out; out of this party, out of this house, and, more importantly, out of this relationship (if it could even be called that).
Death sentence is now a story we'll
be digging when you finally let me die
Romance of our assassination
But for some reason, Jade refused to let Beck break up with her, refused to let this thing just die.
Whenever he said "we need to talk", or whenever he was just about to break up with her, Jade got this little sparkle in her eye and would suggestively whisper something in his ear and make him completely forget what he was saying. Then she'd lead him to the bedroom and remind him just how good of a fuck she could be. He was a horrible, weak and easily persuaded man, but he was a man, and he had needs. Jade just so happened to be a female who could meet his needs (and then some).
Of course trying to explain this to his friends, especially his female ones, didn't go over very well the first time he tried it, so he simply said;
"Once upon a time, when Jade wasn't a sadistic bitch, I had promised her I'd be the Clyde to her Bonnie. This is me keeping that promise."
If you're Bonnie, I'll be you Clyde
But the grass is greener here, and I can
see all of your snakes.
You wear your ruins well; please run away
with me to hell.
All this time he thought Jade had been a princess. But in reality she was Medusa, simply hiding her snake-headed form from him. He had never noticed how evil she really was; he had been too caught up in the excitement of having a young and wild girlfriend, too caught up in the beginnings of love to realize how poisonous she really was.
But he had to admit, her black hair and terrible attitude suited her, more so than her previous blonde-perkiness. And he was probably going to hell for saying this, but he loved her more now than he ever did before. He loved her even though she treated his friends like shit; even though she never smiled or told him she loved him anymore. He loved her even though she was a drunken mess half of the time, and the other half she wasn't (emotionally) available.
He loved her even though she was dragging him down with her, slowly sending him into a downward spiral that would only end in (metaphorical) bloodshed for both them, and the people surrounding them.
Blow out the candles
On all my Frankenstein's
At least my death wish will come true
You taste like Valentine's, and we cry
She had blown out his birthday candles for him, about ten minutes ago, ruining the day further. She had plopped a piece of cake down in front of him, and with that cold smile of hers, said:
"You may not have friends and presents, but you've got cake and me. What more could you possibly want?"
Then she walked out the front door, saying something about buying more cigarettes.
You're like a birthday.
I should have picked the photograph
It lasted longer than you.
The photograph of them on the beach (him in love and smiling, her blonde, bright, and wrapped in his arms) hung on the wall across from him, taunting him. He glared at it. Then he flung the plate sitting in front of him at it, cake sailing across the room, photo shattering into a million pieces, just like his heart.
'Fucking photo had lasted longer than my happiness did.' Beck stormed out of the kitchen, destroying anything that reminded him of Jade, anything that was a reminder of this horrid tragedy called "love".
Blow out the candles,
On all my Frankenstein's
All of the good memories, every lesson he had learnt from this relationship, shattered with every photo, with every memento he destroyed.
At least my death wish will come true
You taste like Valentine's, and we cry
Tears of anger fell from his eyes. Why was he so fucking stupid?! What hadn't he just let her get off that train? Why did he follow her all those years ago?!
He should've just admired her from afar. He should've just enjoyed her beauty for the remainder of the train ride. He never should've talked to her, never should've gotten to know her, never should've fallen for Jade West.
You're like a birthday.
I should've picked the photograph, it
lasted longer than you.
He should've just taken a mental photograph of her that day. It would've lasted longer than she did.
And that's that. I don't know if it was any good, and I don't care either. I had a good time writing it, and was amazed at how quickly I wrote it. (It took two hours. Usually my one-shot take about three of four damn days...)
So yeah, review the story and tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, and where I need to improve. I'm pretty sure the companion to this story will be up sometime tomorrow, so stay tuned for that. And have a good life.