Author's Note: This is Beck's view of the key parts of TWC. Depressing. Please review! Love you guys!
"I'm not happy with our relationship!"
This is so wrong—everything about it. He's Beck, and he's yelling, yelling at Jade, in public. This is what has become of them. He has lost his calm facade. He can't remember the last time he's been so angry, that he's let the words flow in the presence of others. They have serious arguments, the ones more than squabbles, at home. That's the unspoken agreement, the agreement he's just broken.
The world isn't right. He looks at his hands, and they offer him no solace.
m m m
The pavement is damp. The parking lot is empty, except for the two of them. Streetlights make the wet pavement shine, and he can feel the humidity in the air. It must have rained during the game show.
She walks several paces ahead of him, and he follows her at a slower pace, looking at his feet. He senses more than sees her flip her black hair over one shoulder, senses the angry set of her jaw. The silence between them is deafening—and to think, they still have to ride home together.
It's night time, so he lets her drive without protest. He takes the passenger seat, leans his head against the glass and watches Los Angeles blur as they speed past it into the suburbs.
He runs a hand through his hair, feels his throat tighten in anger and frustration. He's not sure what those feelings are directed at. When did it all fall apart? He asks himself. When did the banter become more than banter? When did every conversation turn into a screaming match?
He lets out a shaky breath.
He's been with Jade so long, he can't imagine himself as a separate person. They knew each other better than anyone. They fought, because that's who they were, but they could let go of it. They could laugh afterward, be sweet to each other. They were attached at the hip. And then they just...stopped. He can't understand how, why.
When did they stop being Beck & Jade?
They pull into his driveway, behind the stagnant RV. She turns off the engine, and there is an even more suffocating silence then before. The neighborhood has gone to bed. Neither of them looks at the other.
She reaches over and unlocks the passenger door for him, and he can take a hint.
Finally, he turns to look at her. "Jade, I-"
He doesn't know what he was planning to say. I love you? I'm sorry? I don't know if I can do this anymore?
"I'll see you tomorrow." She says simply, emotionless.
His eyes widen, his mouth opening. Once again, the worlds don't flow.
"Okay," he manages, and somberly opens the door and steps out into the humid night.
m m m
He doesn't sleep.
He wasn't really expecting to, either.
But he'd brushed his teeth and gotten into his pajamas anyway. He'd made sure the majority of his homework had been done and then he'd climbed into bed. The only light is from the digital alarm clock on the bedside table as he stares up at the ceiling, trying not to think.
Somewhere around one in the morning, his phone buzzes. It's a text from Andre.
Hey man.
Hey.
Everything ok?
Not really but thanks for asking.
It'll be alright. Couples always fight.
Not like this.
There's a long pause. It'll be alright.
He knows Andre's just trying to help, but he doesn't respond. There's nothing to say.
He has to do something, he knows. He can't just leave it like this. Fighting every other second, and then awkward silence every second they're not. They have to talk about it. Have an actual conversation, a private one. Jade won't like that. He'll have to grab her when she least expects it, and try not to let her inflict fatal injuries in her surprise. And it'll have to be soon, because he don't know how long he can live like this, sleeping alone, raising his voice. He doesn't know how long they can limp along before it's too late to come back to how things were.
He turns over to face the wall, dreading the day ahead of him.
m m m
When did it all fall apart?
The question comes back to him as Trina rests her head against his bicep. He doesn't have the energy to shake her off, despite the bruise her clumsy tackle has bestowed upon his chin.
He tries to ignore the quick glances, bad attempts at subtlety, that his friends direct at him as Cat deals out cards. He doesn't want their sympathy right now. He won't pretend like he's not bitter, angry, morose, all mixed into one. He knows it's a cliché but his chest literally has a hollow feeling, and aching pain that comes in waves whenever his mind repeats the last few moments, which is often.
And no matter how many times he sees it play out, sees her walk away in his mind's eye, he still can't believe it. There's some part of him that still believes that this is just minor, that it'll be like that time he was hanging out with Alyssa Vaughn and they only managed to stay broken up for a few days.
But he can feel the magnitude in his bones, though the rest of his body has yet to completely react. This is more than jealousy. More than a petty squabble. This is...finality. And somehow he's keeping it together. It's a superhuman feat.
The game doesn't last much longer. Nobody can pretend like everything's normal with him there, but they don't want him to be alone. They can't dissuade him from going back home, though, at the end of the night. Several offer to take him out or let him sleep at their place. He appreciates it, but he just needs some time alone.
He drives home faster than he should.
His vision is already blurring by the time he burst into the RV, kicks off his shoes and falls onto the bed. He curls into a ball, feels the ring necklace against the skin of his chest.
He's Beck. He's not supposed to cry. He grits his teeth and tears come anyway.
His mother had seen him pull up. She leaves her novel and climbs from bed to bid him and Jade good night, as she does when she's still up and he's home. She grabs a light jacket and some flip flops before crossing the dew dampened yard. She does a quick tap on the door and waits for an answer. None comes.
"Beck?" She calls. "Jade?"
He tries to wipe his eyes, take deep breaths. "Come in." his voice wavers uncontrollably.
Door clicks, and opens a second later. "Beck?"
She can't see his face. She touches his arm tentatively. "What's wrong, honey?"
He just shakes his head.
"G'night." he says softly.
She knows this is not the time to push it. "Good night."
She leaves, and he wishes she had stayed, despite his dismissal.
He finally dozes off, his head aching.
