Notes: Formatting may be a little odd this chapter. Let it be noted, "*" indicates a passing of time with the same writer (as should be obvious, hopefully), opposed to the usual . marking the change from writer to writer (with the exception of text messages). Bracketed text [-like this-] is deleted, unsent text.
Another note: there are some pretty blatantly unhealthy relationship dynamics here. If you want triggers listed, feel free to leave a comment on this or the last chapter either before or, if you really want, after reading, and I will add them to this note. This is partially me not being familiar with the things that should be tagged, and how they relate to the behavior in question. In the meantime, 'unhealthy' will have to suffice. (I should also mention that, despite cursory research, I'm sure there are mistakes in this chapter regarding all manner of things. Feel free to correct me in the comments and I'll do my best to either edit or regretfully inform you if it's unchangeable.)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The good thing about having a girlfriend, even one who's possessive and definitely feeling insecure after Alex's wavering loyalty in the Frankie-Jonas standoff, is that sex somehow solves everything.
Well.
Not everything.
But it makes her feel a hell of a lot better.
But it always has, hasn't it? Even when things come crashing down later, for a moment she is entirely focused on something that feels good. She feels good, and she feels wanted.
Frankie has been extra-attentive, too, which is nice— initiating contact seemingly whenever there's enough of a lull for Alex to reach for her phone to kill time. Yes, that means her days for the next week are spent mostly in bed with Frankie, not doing the side gigs she should be doing, but Frankie has a plan for that.
"*"
"I think we're doing some kind of advertising thing with them?" Frankie waves a hand dismissively. "Point is, I just need you to pass along a package, just some planning stuff, I dunno, I think it's signed forms or something. They'll pay for the delivery."
"*"
The payment is $15. For a bike ride that's five miles absolute tops, with one brown envelope. That's the first weird part. The second weird part is that the company she's dropping the envelope at is a fuckin' Beemer dealership. She has to leave her bike outside, but when there's a parking lot that's half BMWs she doubts anyone would be interested in a beat-up seven-speed cruiser. The third weird part is the look she gets from the guy she delivers it to. Usually she'd just get like an uninterested nod and some cash, but this guy is actively happy to see her, and Alex has to assume whatever deal Frankie's company made, this guy thinks he got the better end of it.
"*"
It's not a one-time occurrence. "Baby, I've got a job for you," becomes Alex's wake-up call. And it's a lot easier to be a bike messenger when she's got someone personally setting up jobs for her instead of having to hope for some app to put it together.
It doesn't take long for her to feel content. Even if there's that guilt, that hurt eating away at her that she did something wrong with Jonas. That she messed it up somehow. She chose a side, and it wasn't him, and she hasn't had the time to sit down and get her thoughts together enough to contact him.
"*"
It's a lazy Sunday afternoon, five hours til her shift starts at the Island, and Alex is resting her cheek on Frankie's stomach as they lay in bed watching Netflix. Alex's phone buzzes, but it's on Frankie's side of the bed, so she doesn't bother. But the moment reminds her of something, and…
Alex is twirling her finger in the drawstring of her girlfriend's pants. "Frankie?"
"Hm?"
"Can I…" Alex chews at her cheek. This may be a huge mistake. "…What happened the other night?" A week and a half ago now.
She doesn't need to clarify. The hand that had been playing with her hair stills. It's another few seconds, then Frankie clicks pause, and sighs.
"How much do you know about Jonas, Alex?"
Alex rolls out of her girlfriend's lap. "…A bit." She's a little uneasy with the question. This feels like taking sides again. "Enough that I trust him," she adds, a little stronger.
Frankie snorts. "You trust him? Do you even know what he did before he moved here?"
Do you? But it sounds like she does. Doubt, unease, is creeping up her spine as Alex props herself up. "I know he worked at a different bar— something to do with kings." That crown tattoo. "Did community college. And he's from North Valley." Right, they went to high school together. "He said—" What had he said? "Said he was a bit of a douche in school. Is that what this is about?"
There's a grim smile on Frankie's lips as she shakes her head. "That's an interesting way of putting it."
Alex frowns. Just stop beating around the bush already. "God, you're like him— talking about his past like it's some Big Bad Secret, Christ."
"Baby, he's not a good guy." Frankie almost sounds apologetic. "Like— like violent assault and battery, Alex. Like B&E and GTA. Like I should've been scared for my life when he snapped that night. Beat a kid half to death when he was still in high school, had to get dragged away by the cops. And from what I've heard he didn't get much better after."
That… doesn't sound right. Alex shakes her head, slowly. "I feel like we're thinking of two different people here, babe," she attempts a laugh, but it comes out weak. "I mean, even if he was a shit kid, he's definitely not like that now." She really wishes she didn't sound like she's trying to convince herself.
"You sure about that?"
Alex sits up, turning her irritation on her girlfriend. "Yeah, actually. I am." This isn't fair. This is frustrating and not fair, that she has to defend him when she's speaking from her gut instead of her head. She doesn't have proof she can show, to back up her— no, wait, she does. She's the proof. "He's—" the most patient person I've ever met. "I've—" never felt safer. Alex shakes her head. "Look, things change."
God, that look. Frankie is pitying her. "Baby…" What? "…You don't need to make excuses for him. Sometimes we trust people we shouldn't. It happens."
"I'm not—"
"Alex, listen to yourself. He's changed. He's different with me. You know how you sound."
It's like a slap to the face. "…That's not fair."
"The truth hurts, hon. So does he."
"You're casting him like some kind of abusive asshole."
"Alex, stop apologizing for him."
"I'm not!" Her voice is too high, throat too tight, because this is… something else. "I don't need to! He didn't do anything wrong!" Never with her. Never with anyone.
"Baby…" The pity. The absolute pity in her tone.
Alex feels like she's the one about to get violent. "Stop it."
It's a switch. Frankie knows her switch, and the hand tugging a fistful of hair, pulling herself to her senses, does it. Or almost does it, as Alex strains against it just long enough to force Frankie to pull harder, really grounding herself with the firm hold, before she gives in. "Shhhh…" A hand is stroking over her cheek, and Alex feels like she's overheating. "Maybe you're right. Maybe. I just don't want you to get hurt. I'm scared for you, baby. I care."
There are too many thoughts and too many signals firing off in her head. The words feel objectively wrong, but Alex is already frustrated by an argument she knows she can't win, because Frankie will claim Jonas is manipulating her. That's not what's happening at all. But Frankie is only saying it because she's worried for her, and—
God, there's too much. She needs to stop thinking. It's better that way. When things are going wrong, lose yourself. So she pulls harder against Frankie's grip, reaches for her girlfriend's chin, and she's kissing her as much to stop listening to her bullshit as to get that sweet sweet oxytocin.
"*"
Hot Jonas
(Hey(
)Message sent to invalid destination. Please check your number and try again)
Two days after the confrontation with Frankie, and he's still lamenting over events he could have avoided. Could have changed. Could have done, should have done, would have done. But that's just his nature. It always has been, ever since she died.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Left.
Upper jab.
It isn't enough just to be hitting something, even though that usually helps. Jonas has a lot of pent up aggression. That might be an understatement. Scratch that, it is an understatement, and he knows it is. What the hell had he been thinking? Damn near assaulting Frankie (she deserved it), leaving Alex (she hadn't deserved it), and then skipping the rest of his shift. Of course Daniel understood. He'd been one of the only people to actually learn about Jonas's past… transgressions. And then the guy had still kept him around. That was something he didn't understand, either. Why people kept talking to him when he was walking around with so much to hide.
"Yo, Jonas? You okay?" Theo's talking over the din of his blows, her freckled face scrunched up in concern. "I know you're a bit of a gym rat, but this seems… like a lot."
She's right. This is the most time he's spent wailing on a bag since senior year of high school. "Some shit happened. It's fine."
"If you're calling it shit, I wouldn't call it fine. Did you get caught up with the police again? 'Cause I said-"
"No! No, Jesus Christ, I didn't get arrested." He has to stop so that he can actually hear her, huffing with exertion while taking off his gloves. Even with them on, Jonas has still formed bruises and broken skin on his knuckles, the blood smeared and scabbing. Theo winces in sympathy.
"Looks like it was something pretty bad then. You never went this hard unless you thought you fucked up."
He manages a kind of chuckle, "Yeah, well, you could call it some form of self punishment I guess."
"Need to walk and talk?"
Jonas only nods. That might be better than nothing.
"*"
Another few days, still no texts from Alex. She hasn't shown up at the Kanaloa, either, which worries him more than he's willing to admit. His mind urges him to check up on her, to go to the apartment and see what's happening, but that would be over before it even began. Frankie's turf now. The thought makes him wince. Alex is Frankie's turf now. He should just stop worrying. He needs to convince himself to stop worrying. There's nothing he can do about it; the girl walked right into the web, and now she's reaping what she's sown. Can't feel guilty for something that couldn't be stopped.
Jonas knows that's a load of bullshit. He still tries.
"*"
A week and a half. No texts, no calls, no randomly popping up at his workplace, and no other patrons sent over from the Island. Jonas is laid up in bed at three in the afternoon with nothing to do, fiddling with the ring around his neck, and hovering over the send button of a message to Alex. What can he even say? Don't trust Frankie, don't trust him, don't trust anyone? No. No, he'd sound like a paranoid fucking mess, and possessive at that. But he can't exactly be subtle, either, not after that whole standoff at the bar. The fact that it seems like they've both been ignoring each other doesn't make it any better. Are they ignoring each other? He doesn't know. They've been doing something, thinking about other things, while life goes on around them.
Theo had told him to go ahead and contact her. But then again, Theo had experience with the people he used to call friends.
Daniel had told him to give it time. Even if he wasn't sure what entirely had happened, the old man was always willing to give advice when people asked. It was what he did best.
Well. He'd given it time, technically, and Alex hadn't reached out… Ugh. Jonas is overcomplicating this. He should just— just get to the point, say what he needs to say, be done with it. Letting the whole thing simmer and fester can hardly make anything better. Why would it? She might think he's the one ignoring her, from how he'd left. Just stomped off into the night like some reckless storm. That's terrible. He's terrible. Everything is terrible. Just hit send. Hit send. Hit—
Alex
(Look. I know you probably don't wanna talk, and I know whatever Frankie's been telling you hasn't been good, but I just- I wanted to apologize, I guess? For everything. For leaving like that. She pissed me off, and I was gonna do something really fucking stupid in the middle of it all…(
(Yeah. (
(I'm sorry, Alex. I'm really fucking sorry.(
.
The text is from an unknown number. Which is weird, 'cause Alex is pretty sure it's from Jonas 'cause she doesn't know who the hell else would send a message like that. It kinda hurts though. Not just the message, not just the apology. That he'd tried so hard to cut off contact.
Alex stares at it for a long time. The way she figures it is this: he blocked her. Somehow. Made it so her texts bounced. Then picked up a burner, maybe, or some other way to send his apology. Some kind of bittersweet last message. Which is stupid, 'cause they still live really close, they're bound to run into each other at some point. Even if they never had before. And haven't since that night. …Maybe he's avoiding her. This has to be his goodbye.
What a shitty way to say goodbye.
818-5891
(This isn't over, you know that, right?(
(Wait that'(
(S not a threat that came out wrong(
(I mean, if you want it to be over it can be(
(But also- you're not getting out of this until I'm dead buddy, I need [-you-] your wings.(
It's a shitty joke. She doesn't know what else to say. Fuck. She pushes her head into her pillow, taking a deep breath. For once Frankie isn't around. Which makes it a hell of a lot easier.
818-5891
(That means I forgive you, dumbass(
(Now unblock my number(
It's not like she has a great history of picking the right people to forgive. Her gut has been wrong on more than one occasion. She'll still go with her heart over her head nine times out of ten.
He's a dangerous man, Frankie's voice is echoing in her head, that patronizing tone that Alex can't stand when they're talking about serious things. Fuck that. She's known plenty of dangerous people. Maybe not— maybe not beating someone to a pulp dangerous, but…
Guilt floods Alex's system because the wrong thoughts are running through her mind. Instead of fear, instead of wariness, she's just remembering seeing him at the warehouse, the sound of fists against bag, the look of lean muscle and disciplined strikes, even when he was throwing her to the ground— and the way he pulled back as soon as he recognized her. He doesn't hurt people. He just doesn't. He doesn't hurt her. Jesus— why is she more interested in seeing him go fuckin' HAM than shaming him for having done it? That's pretty fucked. That's really fucked, even for her. That's the kind of thought she doesn't need to share with anyone.
Danger is her middle name. One of many. Sure, maybe her only… well, they kind of were arrests, weren't they? Maybe they were just drunk and disorderlies, trespassing, useless shit that never made it past a slap on the wrist or a bit of community service. But she's the devil in this relationship. She's already established that. Precedent has been set. It's not like her past is spotless. Maybe not violence, but… she has killed someone, after all.
The numbers burn on her wrist.
Doubt is creeping around her, and she kind of wishes she was under some kind of influence right now to lessen the inevitable harsh blow when he doesn't respond.
…Yeah, no, she can't do this sober. She can't do this now. This was a bad idea, she should've thought this out.
Alex turns off her phone.
Can't get ghosted if there's no one to ghost. Sure. That… that makes sense. (No, it doesn't.) Yeah, okay, so if she doesn't check then she can assume he's laughing at her shit joke, that he forgives her just as much, that all is well and mended and not a problem anymore. (Not how that works, Alex.) Sure. Fine. Blissful ignorance. She just needs to do something else for a bit, kill time until work. She needs to… fuckin'… wash her hair. That'll work.
.
Alex
(Unblock your number?(
(Alex, I never blocked you. You just never texted me. Ever. Figured you didn't want to talk.(
(Or, not anymore, I guess.(
That's… odd. Why would she think he blocked her number? He still has her contact, he just hadn't been doing anything with it, waiting to see if Alex would text first. He hadn't wanted to push her in case something else was causing some instability. But it doesn't seem that way from her tone. She'd definitely thought Jonas was avoiding her.
Alex
(Wait, you still have my contact, how could I have blocked you if it's still there?(
There's a lull to his messages, trying to consider his words rather than just type up explanations. He's the guilty one in all of this. Not her. Alex hadn't been the one to lose her cool over some stupid conversation.
Alex
(Nevermind.(
(Main point is that I fucked up.(
(Bad.(
.
The shower does not help as much as Alex had hoped. Her mind… wanders. And even if she's still sore from the first session of the day with Frankie, she's thinking of those goddamned hands of his. But it's more than that. She's thinking of the gym, yes, but she's also thinking of the hand on that gap of skin as they danced, of the firm grip and delicate maneuvering as he plucked shards of glass from her foot, of the ghosting touch over her tattoo—
I will become what I deserve.
She's a horrible girlfriend. She's a horrible friend. She's just… a bad person in general. She's a mess. It's not just the thoughts running through her head, but the emotions that come along with them.
There's too much need in her. Needy, desperate, pathetic. Her heart is too open, too eager to latch on, and now - apparently - too flighty. It's emotional infidelity is what it is. She can't have a girlfriend and think about someone else like— like that. Especially someone who only thinks of her as a friend. It's not fair to Jonas to have ulterior motives, even if she hasn't thought of them before. And it's not fair to Frankie to let her heart wander, to side with someone else. Too many decisions from her gut, not enough from her head.
Okay, so time to think with her head, then.
Jonas.
Jonas is a criminal, seems to be confirming Frankie's story, and if it's as bad as she says it's more than a one-time incident. Frankie said Alex would get hurt. How much of her attachment is sheer masochism? How much is her wanting to be hurt? It's not like she hasn't done things just for the thrill of the risk before.
But before she knew any of that, he was something else. Hell, when they'd first met she thought he was a clean-cut Good Christian Boy. It hadn't been about the risk then.
But would it be, now? And if so, that wouldn't be fair to him, would it? To be seen as the dog on a leash. Not fair at all.
Aside from all of that; he doesn't like her. Not like that, anyway. And lusting after a friend is — no, not lusting, she lusts after plenty of people. Whatever it is she feels for him— it's bad news bears. That's a layer of deception she's dealt with before, and it just hurts. Back to this. She just wants to get hurt. Physically, emotionally, mentally — different ways for different reasons, some better than others. Penance.
And then on the other hand: Frankie.
Alex isn't being fair to Frankie. Frankie cares, Frankie is helping her so much, and Alex lets herself think of other people? She needs to be better than that. She needs to be faithful, and she needs to be supportive, and she shouldn't be siding with a man who was about to throw hands with her girlfriend. She should be grateful. Frankie is the best thing to happen to her in a while. With her help, Alex is being made to eat more than one meal a day, and has the motivation to go do her goddamn laundry, and thanks to Frankie she has a regular run of courier jobs that are making her decent money without the stress of searching for gigs. She should trust her girlfriend.
Right. Use your head, Alex.
He probably won't even text back anyway. Then it won't even be an issue.
"*"
…He texted back.
As soon as she turned on her phone - after a shower that took way too long, to the point that her fingertips were all shriveled and pruney - there it was.
818-5891
)Main point is that I fucked up.)
)Bad.)
Shit. Shit shit shit, and there her heart goes, trying to forget the whole debate she'd just had. Head not heart, Alex, for once in your life. Right. She'd thought about this. Her texts are written and rewritten, typed and deleted, but she gets it all out eventually.
818-5891
(I forgive you, Jonas. I do.(
(But I think maybe for now it's better if we don't talk.(
(I still [-like you-] [-want to be your friend-] support you 100%.(
(You're a good person.(
(I just need to be a good girlfriend for once, yknow?(
(I'm really really trying to be better.(
(And Frankie wouldn't be happy for me to be [-having feelings-] being friends with you.(
(And she's important to me.(
It's the right choice. She's… pretty sure it's the right choice. …God, she doesn't know. Nothing feels like the right choice. They all feel wrong. Fuck. She needs a hug.
.
The fact that she waits an hour to respond already has him on edge, and with what she says, that slight panic turns into resignation. Jonas can't bring himself to just jump out of the gate with an agreement, but he knows if he refuses it might just be worse in the long run. That inevitable feeling of abandonment is coming back. That isn't fair to her. He's known Alex for a while now, sure, but— she can't just be his lifeline for everything. He knows that. He thinks he knows that.
It hurts more than he thinks, because it takes him a minute to realize he's tearing up. And for a stupid reason, no less. It isn't going to be forever. God, it might be. Fuck. Okay. Shit. He can't handle this right now. Jonas could've handled rejection, that could be blamed on Frankie and her tactics, but this… this isn't wholly manipulative. It's still there, a definite undertone, but Alex is still thinking for herself. Just like she always will.
So he lays there for a few minutes. Tries to come up with something that doesn't sound so fucking desperate. Because she isn't his, she never was his, and now she's someone else's.
Alex isn't just in Frankie's turf anymore. She's Frankie's.
Alex
(Yeah.(
(It'd be safer for you.(
(Just… Think about why you're doing it. Who you're doing it for. Deciding between two people you enjoy being around just because someone told you to is a bit(
.
That - that self-deprecating ominousness - feels like the Jonas she thought she knew. Not the one Frankie seems so convinced of. It's a natural reaction, the small quirk to her lips as she starts typing some snarky response.
[-Bold of you to assume I enjoy bei-]
And then the rest of his messages come.
.
Alex
(Nevermind. Don't have a horse in that race.(
(Sorry.(
Jonas feels like he's going to be apologizing forever. There's a lump in his throat when he types the next words.
Alex
(Frankie is lucky to have a girl like you, Alex.(
.
Her previous words sit unsent as she reads his last message over again. And then again.
Has anyone ever said that before? Ever? It feels like she's always the one making jokes like that, but has anyone ever said it sincerely?
818-5891
(Look, Jonas(
Alex is having feelings. That can't be good.
818-5891
(You are so good. You are. I don't think you believe it but you are.(
(Your past is(
(Whatever. None of my business.(
(I like you a lot, angel.(
[-And maybe one day things will-]
…will what? It feels too much like she's lining up a rebound. Like she's setting up a backup relationship. And that-
818-5891
(It's not fair to you.(
[-I can't-]
She deletes the words. I can't just be friends with you. Not now, anyway. There's too much attached to him. He's too important. But beyond all of that — it feels like cheating. Not cheating on Frankie - though, God, that too - but cheating at… at life. Cheating him. A lie by omission.
Is there any reason not to say that, then? If she doesn't, she's just maintaining the lie. He should know. God, she doesn't want him to know. She wants to hedge her bets, to keep that little safety net just in case. She doesn't want to be the friend catching feelings and ruining everything.
Two months, maybe a little more. It's nothing in the grand scheme of things. Better to come clean. To let him know it's not that she doesn't like him, but that she likes him too much. Might as well, right? If she's trying to be better, honesty feels like a good start.
818-5891
(I just can't be friends.(
(Not with you.(
It's a typo she'll regret when she finally realizes she made it.
.
How does he respond to that? Of all the things she could say, at any time, she says— What can he even expect anymore? They all leave when they find out. Everyone. The only two people that even bothered to stay were his lawyer and his dad. He barely talks to them half the time. Jonas feels it when he chokes, but his mind isn't properly registering things anymore. This couldn't have been something impulsive. (That's her middle name.) This was something a long time coming. (Inevitable. Inescapable.) The only mistake he'd made was not seeing it sooner. Not pushing Alex out like he had with every other person ever since he'd left the crew. It hurts. Everything hurts. She's gone.
Jonas turns off his phone. Stares at the blank screen. He wants to throw it across the room, and not even because he's angry, but because he's just… He doesn't even know. Instead, it drops onto the bed, the soft thud seeming to echo in the silence. It could just be chalked up to Frankie. But that isn't at all what he thinks of the situation. His eyes sting when he forces himself up, leaving the phone where it's laying, moving to get away as quickly as possible. Not friends. Not anybody. Just another stranger on the street.
He needs a drink.
Notes: Welcome to the angst, my friends. These two need hugs. Feel free to send your love to these two fucked up dumbasses. I love them so much.