When there is nothing left to burn you have to set yourself on fire
To ask how it ended would be like asking a child why the sky is blue. The answer is a jumble of guesses and supposedlies and whatnot. Because no one really knows. First they were and then they weren't. Beck went one way and Jade went another. That was the story and then, with the help of time, people forgot that there was ever a story that included the two together. Life is funny like that.
[And no, he doesn't end up with Tori. Life may be funny but it isn't always predictable.]
He's the promising young actor and his name is whispered so much that it's become a low thrum in the rhythm that is Hollywood. She's just finished writing and directing a series of short films that have already developed quite the cult following and everyone wants to get inside her head and pick it apart. (She gets a morbid satisfaction from it.) All the people that once connected them, AndreToriCatRobbie, have paved their own way in the world with some roads shorter than others.
Sometimes. Jade will see Cat or Beck will meet up with Andre and one of the two will mention something about the other. The responses are always halfhearted. Half everything. Never complete. Never really there. All rather noncommittal. And then in the ensuing awkward silence one if forced to wonder aloud whatever happened to Robbie or why Tori never returns calls (though the latter does not engage Jade into discussion at all.)
Sometimes. Their paths cross. It's inevitable. The world is small, that is fact, and they've trail-blazed across the earth far too much not to intersect at some point. Each of one of those points are made up of polite smiles and handshakes and the words 'Yeah, we went to school together', pretending that those few years weren't everything to them at that time. They stick to opposite corners of the same room, finding it easier to breathe that way, finding it easier to get through the night that way.
[One night, Cat finds the courage to pursue the oft unpopular topic. She twiddles her thumbs first, trying to fight off the nervousness and Jade can just smell it off the redhead that she begins to drum her fingernails on their table in the tiny and rather empty coffee shop.
An audible gulp. 'So... I saw Beck the other day. Okay, not really. I saw Andre and he saw Beck and he mentioned it to me so I didn't really see him but, you know—'
'How about we pretend you did so that we can continue this up until the point where I start to get uncomfortable and then start to change the subject,' Jade suggests. 'Or better yet, let's skip toward the end.'
Cat learns not to do that ever again. Ever.]
[Andre's conversations with Beck are equally uninformative. So mostly they just sit around and enjoy a couple of beers while pretending all is right in the world.]
But the truth is this:
Sometimes. When he's brushing his teeth he looks at the mirror half-(or mostly)wishing that he'll see her reflection, see her dancing around the bed like she did when she thought he wasn't looking.
Sometimes. When she's in front of her laptop, she waits that extra second before she shuts it off, hoping that the stray IM window would pop up with some silly note from him.
But it's okay, they tell themselves in the quiet of the night as they lay in their own beds alone. They wouldn't have survived together what they have apart. That is another truth.
And here is another:
He still loves her. She still loves him.
But this is what happens:
Their lines intersect in a very distinct and undeniable way. Jade gets the greenlight to direct the screenplay that she's been toting around Hollywood for a few months now. It's not big budget but it's the largest amount of money that she's been allowed to play with (and by play with, she really means 'not fuck around with'). But word gets around quick, you know? Because for all the glitz and glamor that Hollywood is, it still boasts small town grapevines and rumor mills. Hence, she's almost not surprised when he walks in for an audition.
Almost.
(Somehow, she still gets some of her breath stolen away.)
And when he says the line, 'It's good to see you again' with a voice as soft as his eyes, her heart breaks just a tiny bit.
He sees it (because he's always been able to read her eyes) and so he can't be blamed when he waits for her to leave the studio. Of course. Something inside him is convinced that the shiny black 1950s DeSoto parked out front has to be hers.
He's right.
'What are you doing here? Your audition was over two hours ago.' And they're in high school all over again as she plays with the strap of her too large bag with her other hand firm on her hip and an eyebrow raised in suspicion.
He grins. 'Hello to you, too.'
'Wait,' and he can't miss the small smile that plays along her lips, 'We're not going to have an actual conversation now, are we? This isn't some attempt to butter me up to get the part?'
'You wound me such an outrageous assumption,' he replies. Then he promptly asks her if she wants to get coffee.
Of course she wants coffee; she's still Jade.
And here's how it turns out:
He doesn't get the part.
But, he does get the girl.
Live through this and you won't look back
...
Author's Notes:
Song lyrics from 'Your Ex-lover Is Dead' by Stars. Although the fic ends in a far more positive note than the song conveys.
I don't really do mixed POVs but seeing as how the fic is a mishmash anyway, it should fit. Also, woefully without a beta. Woe.