/JADE/

I'm sure my throat is closing in on itself. My feet are taking me blindly to the first place they can think of. My subconscious is already beginning to torment me, crippling the small shred of strength I had managed to build up over the last few days.

My hand slams open the door to the Black Box Theater and I'm relieved to see it was deserted. I don't hesitate. Climbing up the ladder quickly, my combat boots crunch on each rung, and I keep going until the height makes me feel dizzy. I reach the very top of the cat walk, and my Gears bag gets kicked to the side before I slump into the shadows, tucking my knees up into my chest in a futile attempt to hold myself together.

It had been two weeks since I left Vega's house without a word. Two goddamn weeks where I had to pretend that I was fine. I refused to acknowledge the sympathetic glances, vehemently ignored every single text message, Slap comment, and phone call, blocking out about 80% of my contact list. Beck had actually had the nerve to try and speak to me since the break up, still going around as if everything was normal. Everyone was keeping their distance, like I was made of glass and one wrong move could shatter me. I had gotten used to people scattering when I approached, but now they were running because they thought I was fragile.

I hated it.

I hated the whispers in the hallways and the way people turned their heads because they thought they knew the whole story. Labeling Beck as the sweet hero who just couldn't cope with the cantankerous bitch. It was just what he wanted. Despite everything I figured that after a few days I'd be okay and back to normal, but, if anything, the pain was even worse. It would start off as a dull ache in the mornings and be agonizing by noon, doubling in it's intensity whenever I saw him.

I snarl in frustration, my hand reaching into my bag to yank out a pencil. I hadn't been at the very top of the catwalk since the beginning of Freshman year. It had always been my sanctuary, a place where I could hide, to disappear from everyone for awhile. I'd discovered it setting up the light fixtures and hadn't told another living soul about it. I was determined to keep it that way. I glance up and study the fading pencil scratches I had etched into the surface of the walls, suddenly and very vividly reminded of the numerous fights and arguments that had driven me up this ladder.

My fingers skim over the crude tallies, a pencil mark for every time I was up here, it was a long time tradition. The ridges dig into my skin. The time I fought with my father when he came home late from work, the time I had accidentally split coffee over my mother's precious scripts, and Beck. Beck was the cause of most of these scrawls. He could be an insensitive and clueless idiot- but he had been my insensitive and clueless idiot.

I see red as I stab the pencil into the wall. I rake it down viciously, furiously scribble out all the other marks, because this was the last fight. The last fight I would have with Beck. Our final battle where he came out practically unscathed and I emerged unrecognizable. The fact that most of the indents were from him should have told me it was going to end this way.

The pressure snaps the pencil in half, the wood splintering in my palm. The sharp noise and destruction soothes me.

It was like living my own personal hell. All I could think about was Beck. I hated the way he made me feel, I hated how he had just left, and I hated myself for acting so stupid over this. It was a constant cycle spinning around and around. I didn't know what I was supposed to do, or what I was supposed to be feeling. It had been three years. Three years I had spent with him. We had mapped out our future together and had even briefly discussed a wedding. I thought everything was great. There were no warning signs to indicate anything was wrong. Okay, sure we'd been fighting more but that was us, that was what we did and we got over it. But now he'd just quit, acting as if the last three years with me meant nothing.

He'd given up the fight but still won the battle.

"Jade?" My head jerks up and I hold my breath, staying perfectly rigid because I knew that voice anywhere. "Jade. I saw you run in here."

Carefully, I move my legs away from the edge and sink further into the shadows, waiting this out in the silence.

"Jade. I just want to talk to you." Tori tries again before sighing. "Okay, fine. Well I'm gonna say what I need to." I rest my head back against the wall and groan internally, wondering if it was actually worth throwing the pencil at her.

"I get that you're hurting right now, and I know that's why you're directing your anger on me, and it's fine. I don't need an explanation or an apology or anything. I only came in here to tell you I'm still here for you. Okay? Even though you might not want me, I'm still here." She paces around the room. "I know I'm not your most favorite person in the world right now- or ever, but I am still a friend you can talk to. Just about that night...well I want you to remember I'm here if you need me."

Tori's words seem to echo around the theater, her voice worming it's way underneath my skin. I ball up my fists.

"So... alright. I'm gonna go now. But keep in mind what I've said and uh... yeah. I'm still talking and I- okay great." She trails off uncomfortably. I decide to risk a small peek over the edge of the railing, seeing her hand push through her hair before she moves out of sight.

The stage door cracks open to spill in a small sliver of light, before closing again. I release the breath I had been holding, the room plunged back into darkness.

Fucking, Vega.

A/N: Just discovered an adorable new Kitty game, Neko Atsume and it's ruined my life. So any reviews to make me feel better about wasting money on digital cats would be much appreciated!

Oh also, it's my birthweek! (It is absolutely a thing.)