/ /
she's got talent, beauty, a perfect voice. she can turn any words into a song, and bring any lines to life.
that's all she needs, right?
(wrong.)
/ /
they're unstoppable. invincible. right after high school they're both flown off to New York, and she doesn't really give a damn. but she forgot about him, the love of her life. she hadn't stopped to wonder what he wanted.
but you can't blame her, really.
she was too start struck to care.
/ /
they've got this penthouse loft, over-looking the whole city. they're both in the movies - they're both in love.
the walls are white, so, so, white. she thought she wouldn't like it, but she does. there's this gourmet kitchen, that neither of them know how to put to use ("chinese or pizza?"), the living room with a flat screen tv. upstairs is their bedroom, and one wall is made up of glass. she'll stare out of it at night, his arm slung around her waist, and look at all of the lights and tall, tall, buildings. it's so pretty, but when she rolls over and curls into his chest she decides there's nothing prettier than them.
she should've known that the perfect paint has been chipping off from the beginning, though, and now it's too late. chunks are falling and falling, revealing ugly skin. but she'll just sigh and hug him tighter to her, obliviously. they've got a few more layers.
oh well.
/ /
beck's got this thing. it's an eating disorder. one day jade wakes up and he won't eat. at all.
she'll bite her lip and pop a sausage and cheese biscuit into the microwave, he complains that it's soggy. she makes pancakes, he claims he's allergic to the mix.
"how can you be?"
"i just am, okay?"
jade flinches and sighs, laying a slim, pale, hand on her boyfriend's shoulder. she tries swallowing the lump in her throat. it doesn't work.
"beck... beck, please! it'll - it'll be alright, okay? i - i don't even know what you're doing!"
she's so out of character she scares herself. beck pushes the plate away forcefully and groans.
"you just don't get it, jade!"
he'll stand up and grab his gym bag, slamming the front door behind him, leaving her alone with a bleeding lip and a broken heart. a picture frame falls off the wall, shattering on the floor. jade walks into the hallway and stands there, looking down. it's a picture of her and beck and everyone else, at the lake house they went to over the summer a few years ago. a tear dares to fall, and jade rubs at it frustratingly. the dam breaks then and she starts to sob, crumpling to the ground. she holds the frame close to her chest, ignoring the glass shredding at her knees and shins.
she says, to herself, to the silence around her: "where's beck...?"
she throws the frame against the wall and curls up into a tight ball, grabbing at her hair.
"WHERE IS HE?"
/ /
he's so damn thin.
she sees him, walking out of the shower, quickly wrapping his robe around himself so she can't fully comprehend what he's done to himself (she smiles, noticing its plaid); she'll hold him at night, he's as light as feather, so skinny he's almost transparent. she'll look at the window, her arms tightly around his waist, listening to the shaky inhale and exhale of his breath. she pulls him tighter to her, and looks out the window, to the cement city, to the land that used to seem full of dreams. there's a pang in her chest, and jade gulps, remembering that she hadn't even asked if he wanted to come here. she just got up and went, and he followed faithfully, leaving everyone and everything behind.
she sighs and looks down at the sidewalk, remembering once again that the whole wall was glass. anyone could see anything, of course there's a curtain to pull over it, but they never do. they don't see the bitter, bloody tears in the hallway, or the angry breakfasts in the kitchen; all they see is a sweet couple, as small as ants, asleep. jade smirks. they don't even know the half of it - that transparent wall might as well be cement.
/ /
she's grown protective of him. she'll squeeze his hand when someone looks at him strangely, put an arm around his waist when the paparazzi come. because she loves him. she loves the man that's named beck oliver, but when she hears him purging in the bathroom (she's not stupid, sweetheart), or when he refuses another blt for lunch, she'll nod and try to be numb, wondering where the hell he went.
/ /
she's got talent. she can sing, she can act, she can dance. her short time on broadway told her this, but maybe, she wonders, that's not enough to make it in this world.
you need someone. a person, a human being that knows you inside out, upside down. a person who's you're other half. and at night she finds herself thanking whatever for beck, but damning them for making him sick.
he'll cry and she'll hold him, because that's what she does, what he does. he stuffs his face into the crook of her neck awkwardly and she'll rub his back, making little circles with her fingers.
"just stop. please?"
"it's not that easy."
/ /
"he collapsed."
"what?"
"he's at the hospital."
"what?"
"i'm sorry,"
what?
/ /
jade rushes in an cat is faithfully right behind her. she screams at a nurse, yells at a doctor, and even slaps cat, until she finally gets to his room. there are doctors all around beck, and he's laying in the bed, trying feebly to kick off the itchy blankets. jade rushes forward and pulls them back for him. he smiles and curls into a tight ball, slowly blinking at her slowly, oh so slowly.
she sucks in a breath and gulps, looking at his thin, thin, body. she sniffs, ignoring the doctors swimming around her, and lies down next to him.
"hi," she says.
he smiles again, his eyes drooping. she wraps her arms around his waist and sighs.
five,
four,
three,
two,
one.
there's a long, drawn out, beep, and beck's body turns limp and lifeless. jade pulls him tighter to her, not giving a damn if the doctor's see her cry.
/ /
she thinks the walls are too bright, now. the window-wall is stupid, and she keeps the curtain over it at all times. the bed is too empty, now, and people sigh and shake their heads when they see her on the sidewalk. cat calls and calls, but jade never answers.
she wakes up screaming in the night, dreaming of photo shoots, and pink swimsuits, and flannels, and beck. god, does she dream about him.
but it's over.
there's no hushed, "good morning"', or warm, skinny arms, wrapped around her waist. there's no hot breath on her neck. there's no one. she's alone.
so fucking alone.
maybe she'll fix it with a beer in her hand and a gun to her head.
who knows.
maybe.
/ /
A/N: Since you guys really seemed to like isn't this a legend, here's the companion fic/jade-centric for my poll people. i don't really have anything to say, so, uh, bye...
review please!~