Twisted Pretzel Chapter 20: Perfect
Title: Twisted Pretzel
Author: 2he_re (Heather and Reena)
Fandom: Jonas Brothers
Pairing(s): Joe/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, the real people in it are used without their permission and we do not own them or have any copyright to any part of any of them. We do not believe any of this happened, is likely to happen, or will happen. It is simply a story created around known facts about those involved.
Summary: Mrs. Johnson dislikes the Jonas Brothers. She hates Joe. Why? Doesn’t really matter does it? What matters is that she was playing a game to get rid of him. Death. Horrible death.
“Tristan Darthe” was her pawn. Arrested a year after the incident and tried. His mental state was proven to be unstable, and instead of a jail sentence he was sentenced to an asylum for the rest of his poor, pathetic, lonesome life, where I'm not even allowed to go fucking suicidal.
Call me unstable, call me insane, but oh deary me, I’d loved that game. I mean, money is good and all, but you know, killing is better.
But damn, I’d lost.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 pt. 1 Chapter 21 pt. 2 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26
~*~
People overreact all the time. It’s normally on a stupid problem, like someone forgetting to take an empty carton out of the refrigerator. Or someone flipping because they found a little blood on their clothes. You’d think they would understand that they just killed someone with a knife; no duh there’d be blood. First and last time I'd ever killed with a partner. I’d killed that bitch who whined about a little blood. Come to think about it, he’d been rather annoying in general.
I don’t think people overreacted when Joe came out. Actually, I’m kind of disappointed. At the time I hated the attention, but now I wish the world would’ve reacted more. I loved the attention, but I hated how even when it let me have Joe in public, everyone decided to stalk more, track more.
I didn’t have Joe with me today. His parents stole him away before I woke up. I ducked my head, walking through the fans who waited for the Jonas Brothers. My face remained free of makeup, and I’d stuffed my hair up under a hat. It was the best I could do. People didn’t recognize me without the getup now. So it was all good.
“He’s a fag now.” I shifted closer to the redhead. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”
A girl in a skirt sighed back. “Being gay doesn’t mean anything.” I circled, in slow steps, the three girls: a red head, a girl in a skirt, and one with yoga pants.
“You’re just saying that because you want to get into Joe’s pants,” Red Head said with a sneer.
Skirt Girl glared back, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Did you even see the pictures of Tristan? He looks like a girl. I doubt Joe’s even really gay. Tristan just looks enough like a girl to get him confused.” Yoga Pants gave a nod signaling the end of her thoughts.
I curled my fingers into my palms. This is your Cephalic vein. It’s one of the only major veins going into your hand. I couldn’t remember who I had said it to. The words weren’t foggy, but the memory was. A wrist pinched by mine. I could've cut it with my nail.
“My mom almost didn’t let me come,” Skirt Girl said.
“Because Joe came out of the closet, am I right?”
“No,” Skirt Girl said stiffly. “It’s because of all the killings.”
Yoga Pants failed to stifle her laughter with her hand. “You believe in that stuff?”
“Well, I don’t. My mom does though.”
“No, you believe in it,” Red Head announced loudly.
“Shut up, no I don’t.”
“Oh, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Red Head drawled. “I mean, just because three killings are connected. You know what? What if Joe did it all? Joe did go into the bathroom. Joe doesn’t like reporters. Joe could’ve not liked the bodyguard.”
“God, why are you even here?” Skirt Girl spat out.
“Not to get into a gay guy’s pants like you, that’s for sure.”
“I’m not -”
Yoga Pants sighed. “You do know his ring’s missing right?”
“What?” Red Head flipped her attention to Yoga Pants. I let a small smile come onto my lips, the ring tucked in my clenched fingers. It pressed warm against my skin. The necklace from Joe swung against my chest at my every slow step. If someone looked, they would know me from just the metal heart. But no one looked.
“I bet he lost it to Tristan,” Skirt Girl said with a mocking smile to Red Head.
“I bet he’s going to burn in hell,” Red Head said with disgust and a flip of her hair. “Here,” she pulled out her ticket and thrusted it at Skirt Girl, “take it. I’m leaving. Disgusting.”
She stalked off, her hair bouncing like a fiery flare. I followed the flare, waiting here and there. Even when I took my eyes off of her, I could always find her again. Bright red hair. Like fire. Like blood.
Her steps changed patterns constantly. Her eyes flickered around nervously as she pushed her way out of the mass of fans. Maybe someone believed all the talk more than that someone wanted people to know. What if a die-hard fan didn’t take kindly to her words? Her arms came up to wrap around her body. She straightened her back more as she passed the last few straggling fans on the outskirts.
“So…” I said from behind. She spun around, her eyes wide. “Why did you even come?”
“Excuse me?”
“Hey, I have a question for you. What do you know about Aladdin?”
She opened and closed her mouth. Her foot slid out, preparing herself to take another step. Her weight shifted as she looked from me to the buildings around us. “Um, I kind of need to go. Sorry, I’m in a rush and…”
I laughed. “We gays don’t rape girls.”
She let her weight fall back. I eyed her; she would stay, for now at least. She even took a step forward, squinting at me. “Hey, I think I know you…”
I stepped towards her, putting out my hand. “Tristan, boyfriend of Joe Jonas.”
“Fag,” she stuttered, stepping back again.
I gave a low chuckle, my eyes flashing. “What do you know about Aladdin? Promise I’ll get you a backstage pass to Nick’s ass.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“But I bet it’s what you want.”
“No,” she snapped. “It isn’t what I want. I want to have nothing to do with you and your type.” Liar. Daddy taught you to spot a liar.
“Then why are you talking to one?” She made an irritated noise and turned to walk away. I bounded to get in front of her. “Are you really going to walk away from me?” She looked past me, and turned in the other direction. I got in front of her again, bumping into her side. “So, you’re going to ignore me?”
“What do you want?” she growled.
“For someone to listen to me.”
“Go away.”
“Meghan Barkley,” I read from the wallet in my hand.
“Where did you get that?” she snapped.
“You’re pocket, it’s funny how you didn’t realize it was gone until now. You’re lucky I’m not going to use your credit cards. But you know what’s even funnier? That other girl’s name was Megan. The one who drowned herself in the toilet.”
“You killed her.”
I leafed through all the cards she had in her wallet. “No, I didn’t. She asked for a bathroom,” I smiled up at Meghan, “I showed it to her. I didn’t know she would kill herself. Am I supposed to be able to know what people have going on inside their minds?” Yes, yes you are.
“Give that back!” She jumped for her wallet, and I spun away, my back to her and started walking. She lunged at me again, screeching. I grabbed her wrist, twisting it back.
“Don’t do that,” I snarled. She struggled, and I dug my nails into her wrist. She made a pitiful sound. “Feel the nail right here?” I grounded my nail into her skin. “This is your Cephalic vein. It’s one of the only major veins going into your hand.”
I could feel the vein moving under my nail as if trying to get free.
I snatched my hand back from her wrist. Her face had become a sheet of white. So pale. I brushed my hand against her cheek, ring lightly caressing. “You don’t look too good,” I commented lightly. She mumbled and pulled away.
I shrugged, starting to walk some more. “I draw; what about you?” She didn’t answer. “Do you really want to make me mad?”
“What are you going to do?” she asked irritated.
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I have your credit cards and your I.D. Why don’t you tell me?”
She snorted. “You wouldn’t do anything.”
“I almost stabbed someone,” I whispered, slinking back around to her. “I almost killed some other people. And you know what? Just the other day - “ I cut myself off with a chuckle. “But you don’t need to know that.” She looked away from my probing eyes. I stuffed the wallet into a pocket. “Okay, so I’m going to give that back to you, but you need to do something for me first.”
“You’ve never done anything good for the Jonas’.”
“I’ve done a lot. Good and bad. Dear Momma Jonas and Papa Jonas still don’t - but that doesn’t matter either. If I put my hand out like this,” I extended my hand to her, palm up, “and said, ‘Trust me.’ If the person took my hand and said, ‘Like Aladdin?’ What does that mean?”
Meghan looked from my hand to my eyes. Slowly she took my hand. “You ever seen Aladdin?”
“It’s a movie.” I brought her hand up and pressed a kiss to it. She shivered under the touch. It wasn’t cold out. It was still summer and the sun hadn’t sunken below the horizon yet.
“Disney movie, and there are two people. Jasmine and Aladdin, and Aladdin’s a street rat. And he asks Jasmine to trust him. Jasmine does. Even though Aladdin is kind of a stranger.”
I snorted, pulling my hand back.
Trust.
Trust, trust, trust.
“The whole world is just based on trust isn’t it?”
“I - what?” Meghan stuttered, confused.
“Her,” I seethed. “It all started because that bitch wanted him to trust me. Then you know what? Joe. It all started with Joe, and he wanted to trust me.” She stepped back. “Then everyone else. Then Momma and Papa Jonas. ‘Can I trust you?’ ‘How can I trust you?’ ‘We gave you our trust.’ Trust means shit.”
I froze. I reached up to wrap my fingers into Meghan’s hair. She slapped my hand away. I slapped her back, gripping her hair tighter in my fingers. “Get off you - Ouch!” I yanked on her hair, bringing her closer to me.
“Your hair is so soft.” I wrapped my fingers in tighter and tighter. “It reminds me of something. Do you know what it reminds me of?”
“Get,” she jerked, “away,” I slammed her into the building. “From me,” she finished breathlessly.
“Blood. If I made you bleed, is your hair the same color as your blood?”
Her knee slammed up, and I groaned, pulling away from her. She ran. I laughed. She looked back, frightened. Her hair bounced up and down. I hit the pavement, fuck that hurt. I forced myself up, and looked at Meghan, who had slowed down to walking. She thought she was free. I hissed, staggering towards her. I picked a rock up off of the ground, and turned it around in my hand.
I took steps closer and closer to her. She brushed her hair back, unaware. I pulled myself up straighter. I threw the rock into a window right next to her. She screeched, and spun around. I ran forward, stumbling over my feet, and scooped up some glass. She started to run, I sprinted after her. I grabbed her arm.
I shoved her down. I grabbed her hair, just like blood, as smooth and beautiful. I dragged her into the alley.
I love alleys.
She screamed, and I straddled her. “Shut it bitch,” I snarled.
“You can’t, f-” I pushed the glass to her throat, growling. She froze.
“Don’t move,” I whispered to her. “You move, I’ll slice you. I’ll chop up that pathetic voice box, and you’ll die, not being able to plead. Now tell me, are you going to move?”
“No.” Her voice cracked.
“You’re not going to tell anyone about this meeting, are you?” She chanced shaking her head. I hit her. “What did I say about moving?”
“Don’t move. God, listen to me. If you let me go, I won’t tell.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t trust you. And isn’t this what it is all about? Trust?” I kissed her softly on the forehead. “Would you rather live or die?”
“Live…”
I pried her mouth open. I grabbed her tongue, and she choked. Her head snapped forward, and I pushed it back. I grabbed her slippery tongue, and I started to saw with the broken glass. She screamed and screamed, blood spilled out over my fingers. I sawed off her whole tongue. It almost slipped from my fingers back down her throat. I made her sit up, throwing the tongue away. I forced her head forward so she couldn’t choke on her blood. I pulled off my shirt, balled it up, and put it against the tongue. Maybe it would stop the bleeding.
I grabbed her hands, and I made them sticky with her own blood. I sliced right through the tendons. She tried to scream and move out from under me. Her whole body shook. Her legs kicked, and tears streamed down her face. I sliced the tendon on the other wrist.
I dumped the piece of glass next to her. I brought my hand up to her hair. “It matches.” I whispered to her. And it did. Maybe it was because her hair had gotten covered in the blood, but I think it would’ve matched anyway. Red and red.
Suddenly, I pulled away, fumbling for the cell phone Joe had shoved into my hands when it became apparent we wouldn’t always be together.
911.
My fingers dialed 911. I looked at my art. She had been such a beautiful canvas.
“Hello.”
“There’s a body,” I whispered. Cold seeped into my bones. What would Joe think? If he knew? I had to be perfect. But didn’t he already know things? I don’t think he believed me. Why didn’t he believe me? Why didn’t he trust me?
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t know, it’s here. I’m oh God, there’s blood everywhere…” I gagged turning away. I stumbled out from the ally.
“Hello, sir? Are you still there?”
“You have to come. I just found her. I don’t know who did it, just - come on.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered back frantically. “I was just walking, and then, I found her, and. You need to come.”
“We need a street -”
“I don’t know!” I started to pace, scuffing away extra foot prints that were mine. Perfect. It had to be perfect. “By the place the Jonas Brothers are playing at, some, fuck, I don’t even know. Track this, damn it or -”
“Calm down.”
I took a breath. “Okay.”
“We’re coming, but you need to stay calm. Can you tell us what condition the body is in?”
“She looks dead, but alive at the same time. Her chest is rising and - fuck. There’s still blood coming out. Just more, and more, and more…” I stared at the art, the colored canvas. I crept forward for a better look. “Someone cut off her tongue. Oh God, I see the part of the tongue. She’s just breathing blood, and fuck. Oh fuck, the tongue’s just lying -”
“Calm down,” the voice snapped over the phone.
“What do I do?! I need to do something. Shit, there’s so much shit. What does someone - what the fuck do I do about her tongue!?”
“Take off your shirt, and put it in her mouth okay? To try and stop the bleeding, just until we get there. Okay? You’re going to make sure the nose is clear then.” I sighed in relief.
Perfect. It would be perfect.
I moved forward to my artwork. I kept the wallet. A thief would've taken it.
“Tristan!” I jumped up from the hospital bed. I covered the two steps to Joe, just entering the room. I slammed my body into his and buried my head in his shoulder. “Tristan, Tristan…” he mumbled, his hand stroking my hair. My breath came in and out with unsteady breaths. I hiccupped and pushed my head deeper into his shoulder.
“There was so much blood,” I cried to him. “I don’t know, I just, Joe, the blood.”
“Shhh, shhh… It’s okay. Blood isn’t a bad thing, we all have blood, okay?” I nodded, pulling him tighter to me. He kissed my hair. I could feel his lips, so gentle.
Perfect.
“Do they know who did it?” I whispered.
“Let’s not talk about -”
“I want them dead,” I seethed to Joe. My hands gathered the fabric of his shirt. “Dead. Whoever did this. Joe, you have to make sure they die.” Kill you, the voice asked with a laugh. would you like Joe to kill you?
“Tristan… It takes time to find out things from this. But whoever did it, they can’t find anything. It’s only you and her.”
“Is she okay?”
“Alive.” He pulled me tighter. “But she won’t ever be able to talk. She won’t ever be able to draw or type or write. Her hands are useless. They think she knows who her attacker is, but they can’t get anything out of her. Something happened to her brain too. Lack of oxygen they think.”
“But she’s alive.” I pretended like it was the only thread keeping me there. In a way it was. But more than that was that I knew it was perfect. There had been no cameras on the street. She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t communicate. My DNA was there, and it was meant to be.
Perfect.
“Mom and Dad want to talk to you,” he said.
“Can it wait a day?”
“They don’t want it to, but it they can’t find us…”
I laughed. “That’s the best idea,” I told him, squeezing him harder.
“I’m always going to be here for you, okay?” He led me out into the hall. He escorted me down to his parents. He refused to leave the room when they asked him to. “We stay together.”
Joe didn’t leave my side as the doctors checked to make sure I hadn’t been scared too much; his parents didn’t say anything to me there. On the ride back to the bus, he kissed me and caressed me enough to make everyone feel awkward. But he didn’t let up, and I didn’t want him to.
He pulled me with him into his bunk, up the ladder once we got to the bus. “Hour before the show,” he teased me. I laughed as he poked me in the side. I fought back. My fingers finding purchase anywhere they could, until he was in hysterics. I grinned, and he finally found a better way to fight back. I screeched when he started tickling under my armpits.
“Stop,” I giggled out. “Joe, you -” He silenced me with a kiss that I sunk into. I jerked off the side of the bed with a shriek when his finger poked me again. His arms flashed out to grab me before I went plummeting to the floor. He started to laugh, making me jiggle in his arms.
“Joe… bring me back in.”
“I think I like you like that.” I gave a roar, and pulled myself up. I rocketed up, and he caught me, again getting on top. With a grunt I flipped him over.
I froze though, looking at his face.
He had turned it into mock terror. When would I see real terror?
“Trist… are you --”
“Shh,” I cut across him. “I’m looking.”
“Okay,” he whispered back with a giggle. He raised his hand, and I batted it back down.
“You need to stay still.” And just like that, he all but froze under me. His face had morphed into something containing complete contentment. He breathed slowly in and out. I cupped his face, before slowly trailing my fingers down to his throat. I fingered his collar.
“Do you want it off?” he asked.
“Shush.” I let him wiggle out of it though. His skin got goose bumps as I trailed my fingers over it.
Perfect.
“You need to get going.” I tossed the shirt back at him and sat up in the cramped space.
“You -”
“Fine.”
“Coming tonight?”
“I’ll follow you out.” He kissed me before slipping out of the bunk and getting dressed. I watch him pull on all his new clothes. His muscles shifted with each movement. I rested my head on his pillow and breathed in. The pillow smelled like him.
Normally it was just the family and me on the bus after the concert. But when everyone piled back on, people were waiting inside. Three people.
Every one of them dressed in a suit and tie. Suit A. Suit B. Suit C. They all sat squished into the couch. Suit A sat reading a magazine with glasses. Suit B stared off into the distance, every so often glancing over at the magazine. Suit C on the far right had his laptop open.
He looked up from it when we came in. “Ah,” he said softly, his eyes glowing. Not a good glow like the afterglow of sex, but the bad glow where it shows smothered embers, worse than flames, because you never know when they’re going to ignite. “The Jonas family.” He tilted the screen down and extended his hand over it.
Denise quickly shook it, followed by the rest of the family. I hung back until Joe motioned me forward. “And here’s the reason for our visit,” Suit C said, clasping my hand and shaking it firmly. I backed up to Joe who automatically encircled my waist.
“Well, this is frankly a surprise,” Paul said. His voice seemed light, but his posture displayed a whole different manner. He did not want these three people here. Joe tightened his arm around me. I leaned farther into him.
“Excuse me,” Denise said politely. She pulled Frankie out and started to usher him off.
“But Mom…”
“It’s family business.”
“But Tristan’s still -”
“Past your bed time,” Denise said firmly. She and Paul shared a look I still can’t quite determine before she and Frankie left to head to the bunks. She’d try to sleep. She never did like anything that involved suits.
“Well, now that that is out of the way.” Suit A crossed his legs. He closed the magazine, flashing the front to all of us - My hand was caught crawling up the inside Joe’s shirt. Joe’s fingers were linked around my belt loops. His tongue grazed my cheek. - before setting it down.
“Joe,” Paul hissed.
“Don’t say anything,” Joe said tightly back. I heard him grind his teeth. His head didn’t shift to his father. His arms held like steel rods. I wrapped my fingers around his wrist. I could feel his pulse, speeding up as the silence stretched.
Suit A cleared his throat. “Really, Joe, you brought all this up, how can you say don’t talk about it?”
“I can’t say what other people talk about - their opinions don’t matter - but I don’t need my family judging me too.” I didn’t like his words. He’d spoken too much like the public Joe - the one everyone knew and answered interviews. Where he’s there only for himself, for the music.
“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. But, please, all of you sit. The ride will be twelve hours, but you have nowhere to be even after that.”
Paul sank into a chair. Nick and Kevin took up the whole other sitting area. I pulled Joe down to the floor. “What does he -” he started, and I quieted him with a soft, “Not now. Some other time.”
Suit B asked, “So when is the time then?” I scowled at him. I did not like people listening into what I said when the words weren’t public. He shrugged back, addressing only the Jonas Brothers then, “To say simply, we are here to discuss something that obviously was not planned. Nothing actually was even in place in case something like this occured. Your parents had assured us that nothing of this nature would happen.”
Silence took over the bus.
Suit A sighed, folding and placing his glasses down on his lap. Kevin and Nick shifted uneasily. Paul remained as stoic as Joe. Suit B thumbed open a notebook. “Tristan, Mr. Jonas has said you buckle easily under pressure.”
“I do not.”
“So, what was the scissor incident?”
“Being pissed.”
“So you buckle easily under pressure or stress.”
I seethed at the statement. I hated how he could put it so simply, so easily. You afraid he can read as well as you can?
“Are there any other incidents we’re unaware of that could come up?”
“No,” Joe and I said at the same time, exactly when Nick and Kevin went, “Yes.”
“No, yes? Which one is it?” Suit A looked between the brothers and the lovers. “I assure you, it cannot be both.”
“Didn’t Mr. and Mrs. Jonas assure you none of their sons were gay?” I snapped. Joe squeezed me in warning.
“Because, they contradict each other. Yes cannot be there if the other answer is no. Joe, would you like to go first?”
“He hasn’t done anything else.” I nodded with Joe’s statement, short and sweet. Kevin gave a snort.
Where was the perfect going?
Suit B raised his eyebrows in question. “Kevin?”
“It could get out that he killed Elvis.”
“I did no -”
“Yes you did!”
I tried to wiggle out of Joe’s arms. “I did not hate that dog!”
“Wait.” Kevin jumped out of his seat. “Wait, just wait.”
I paled as Kevin left. Joe’s arms seemed to be sucking the heat out of me. I got colder and colder.
“Nick?” Suit B asked as they waited for Kevin.
“Tristan sucked Joe off in a public bathroom,” Nick whispered. I shot a look to Nick. He had bowed his head, playing with his hands. “Before they came out, a long time before. And Tristan cracked a picture of Joe and a girl. He snuck out of the house and got drunk. He destroyed the room; he slashed it all up. Joe thought Tristan was out the night Daniel died.”
I clenched my teeth and refused to look away from Suit B’s eyes. Suit C clicked away at the computer.
“Really?”
“He was still with Camilla until Christmas. They were doing stuff even before…”
“Here.” Kevin appeared in the room again. In his hands he held my old sketch book. I wanted to claw for it. My eyes wouldn’t leave it. Kevin walked over and handed it to Suit A. Suit A put his glasses back on, and carefully observed the black cover.
“And this is?” he asked even as he flipped open the book.
“Tristan’s sketchbook,” Kevin said proudly.
I watched the expressions on Suit A’s face. I watched the way his eyes widened and narrowed. “These are good,” he finally said. He turned one around so the family could see.
Joe lying on a couch. It was only half done, just a simple sketch. Nothing twisted about it.
Nothing perfect about it either.
“And this one.” He flipped the page. I looked away.
The dog lay burning on the carpet.
“Tristan?” Joe’s voice cracked.
“Very detailed,” Suit B said, observing the picture. “Now Kevin, how did Tristan kill Elvis?”
“I didn’t kill Elvis!”
“He skinned the dog. He skinned it alive.”
“No, I - fuck no! I didn’t do it that way.”
“Then which way did you do it?” Joe asked in a low voice.
“Joe.” I twisted around. “Joe, Joe, Joe.” His arms loosened. I grasped for his cheek, to place my palm against. “Joe.” He stood up, and I fell onto the floor. I scrambled up. Joe turned away from me. “Joe…” I put my hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off. I snatched it back. “Just…”
“Tell me the truth again,” he commanded. “Where did that go? The deal, the bet?”
“I forgot about it,” I whispered.
“Did you kill Elvis?” he demanded. He stood like marble, cold and hard, frozen and perfect, untouchable.
“Yes.”
“Yes?” he hissed. “Yes? You killed my brother’s dog?”
“No,” I blurted.
“You just said yes.”
“No, yes. I did! I did, okay? I strung him up as he whimpered. I carved words into the flesh, and then Kevin helped me. Kevin kept his mouth shut. Kevin kept a secret! He knew what --”
“If I would’ve told, Nick would’ve only been more upset. Nick would’ve -”
“I’m here,” Nick snapped. “Ask me what I think about this.”
“What do you think about it?” I asked Nick, twisting on him. My eyes flashed, my blood raced, my head pounded. I felt like I had just crawled out of a gutter again. Pissed, ready to destroy. “Tell me Nicky, how do you feel knowing that I killed your dog, and then Kevin cleaned out the shower and that slimly scum? Wait no, don’t say anything. I can answer for you.” I skinned him with my eyes and words, exposing everything I could see in him, trying to destroy him without touching him. “You don’t care anymore because the past is behind. But you’re going to say you care anyway just to try and make me feel bad, but guess what? That won’t happen, no, not on me. And you’re mad at Kevin. No, wait, you’re furious. Pissed to all hell because he kept a secret from you. You don’t think family should do that, you think family tells each other everything. You could care less about me, I don’t mean anything to you, except maybe something, because Joe means just as much as anyone else.”
If Denise had been asleep before, now she could only be lying awake listening.
“Am I right?” Nick looked away from me. I gave a sharp laugh. “I’m right, and you hate that. You hate that I can read you without even thinking about it. You think Joe’s a fag now, not just a fag as in the content of being gay, but as in the bottom of the bucket. The filth, the grime you scrape off the bottom of your shoes. You think I’m going to go to hell, and you don’t give a fuck because I’m just a queer; a dirty rotten homo, who wears makeup and looks like a girl.” I finished, staring at Nick, his eyes locked on the floor.
“Tristan,” Suit C said. He looked up from his intense typing. I met his gaze. “You need to leave.”
“Why?”
“What we discuss next does not concern you.”
“What? No, this does concern me, anything that -”
“You can come back later.”
I turned to Joe, ready for him to defend me, but he looked at me sadly. “You killed your parents.”
What happened to, “I’ll never leave you?” “I’ll always be with you?” What happened to, “I love you?”
“An eye for an eye,” I seethed. I slammed the door closed behind me. Denise watched me coolly as she sat in front of the other door.
I climbed into my bunk, and I waited. The voices had become only low murmurs. I waited and waited. I fell asleep.
I pawed through her blood in my dreams. I compared it to her hair. Joe tackled me from behind. He threw me into the shower. He turned the water on and watched. The water rose around and around me. I banged on the door to get out, but he wouldn’t let me out. He laughed as I couldn’t breathe. I scratched my nails down the glass. Nick laughed at me, from outside the door. He pounded on the glass, and it hurt my ears. Kevin stalked around the parameter. I couldn’t breathe. I pawed my fingers through her hair, it floated in the water. Every time my fingers raked through, blood came out. More blood, and more, and soon the water was red. I was choking on blood.
I shot awake. My clothes clung to my skin. I swallowed, trying to choke down tears. I didn’t like it. I didn’t know. I’d never had these. I didn’t know how to…
I climbed up to Joe’s bunk, my whole body shaking. “Joe?” I pleaded into the dark. “Joe?” I nudged the blankets, just blankets. Joe wasn’t there. I choked back a sob. I climbed into his bunk. I curled up in his blankets. I could smell him.
He smelled so good.
I closed my eyes. I heard a shout, and they snapped open. I clamored down the bunk. Frankie’s bunk’s curtain hung down. Denise had left her observing place at the back door; her bunk had its curtain pulled across.
“You can’t do that!”
I pressed my ear to the door, hands braced against the synthetic wood. I missed the low murmuring, but Nick’s voice rang again.
“No, no, I’m not going to… his mistakes!”
I pushed lightly against the door. It silently slid open a crack. My necklace banged against the door, and I stuffed it down my shirt. I pressed my eye to the crack. Suit A, B, and C weren’t where I had left them. Suit A stood comfortably, jacket off and on the couch, arms behind his back. At every jerk of the bus, his body would sway with the movement, but never tip.
Suit B stood in front of the door, jacket still on. He stood wider than Suit A, but his body didn’t even shake with the bus. It remained almost stiffly straight.
Suit C had deposited his jacket on top of Suit A’s, and he had the entire sofa to himself and his laptop.
“I’m sorry,” Suit A said. It sounded apologetic, but he held no meaning behind his words. He really didn’t feel sorry. To him, this was his job.
I glanced at Joe, I couldn’t help it. I could just see his body around Suit B’s legs. His head remained down. He didn’t look at anyone. He didn’t seem to care about the conversation going on around him. His arms bulged through his shirt. He had to be clenching his fists, trying not to explode.
“It won’t be anything permanent,” Suit C assured. He clicked something, slipping his laptop around. I couldn’t see the screen. “Your statement is here. Don’t read too much into it; just give it like something normal.”
I couldn’t see the words, but Nick scowled. “You want me to lie.”
“No, not really,” Suit C said. “You’re not saying anything, just stay out of the public view. Kevin and Joe will do all the talking.”
“But they’re lying.”
“Do they seem to have a problem with it?” Suit A asked. Nick’s head turned to look at the calm figure. “Neither should you, considering everything else. You don’t even have to pretend to like your brother and Tristan anymore.”
“I don’t -”
“Tristan wasn’t wrong when he judged you. I would’ve said roughly the same thing, perhaps put more adequately, but the overall idea, the same. Besides, it isn’t like you haven’t lied, or acted one way to influence your career. The whole Miley act for one thing.”
Nick turned his head away. He stared at nothing.
“See, this is just another thing. In the end, this will be better for everyone. You just need to keep low for a week or two. You're going back home.”
“Home, like, Texas home?” Nick blurted out.
“Yes, just until this blows over. Sit around have some home cooked meals, sleep in...”
“That’s a lot of concerts,” Kevin muttered.
Suit A shrugged. “Everything is being done because it has to be done. We’re taking the necessary requirements to make sure what took so long to build, doesn’t come crashing down. Joe, really, this wouldn’t be as much trouble if you didn’t pick someone like Tristan.”
“He’s listening,” Joe muttered.
“I highly doubt that,” Suit A replied. Something came up in his eyes as he looked at Joe.
Joe looked up. His eyes rimmed in red. “I can hear him breathing.”
“Joe.”
“He woke up from a nightmare, and he’s listening now.”
“Joe, Tristan is not listening now. Of course, we now need to discuss -”
“Listen.” I held my breath. “He’s holding his breath now.”
“How do you -”
“That’s how well we know each other,” Joe snapped. “You think this is nothing, you’re brushing it away like he’s going to disappear in the two weeks, but he’s not! Either he’s going to leave, or I’m going to -”
Paul looked imploringly at Suit A. But Suit A had eyes and ears only for Joe.
“Leave. That’s how much he means to me. He’s my everything. Don’t say something against that, because you don’t understand. I knew what the fuck would happen when I told people about him. But you know what? I don’t really care about ‘the Dream’ now, because it doesn’t seem like one. The Dream has turned into a nightmare where I can’t be who I want to be. I want to be with Tristan, and you’re all saying I can’t.
“Everything about him, I know. You ask me anything, and I can tell you. I know that he wears the heart necklace for some other reason than to remind him of me. It reminds him of something else. He wears it outside of the shirt normally so that he doesn’t feel it against his skin. He winces when he feels it. He loves the attention. It doesn’t put any stress on him; he just needs to do something. That’s why we always have so much PDA; it keeps him from doing stuff like that!”
Suit A took a breath. He turned his lips into a very thin line. He breathed his expression out into a neutral one. “Then how come you didn’t know he killed Elvis?”
Joe looked down. “I did. Kevin told me.”
“He attacked us too,” Nick said. “When he came back to the bus after Dad dragged Joe off to the greenroom after he spilled their secret. Tristan was back here, and…”
“He tried to knife me and choke Nick. He seemed to know what he was doing too.”
“He does know.”
I turned my eyes away at Joe’s betrayal. I could barely make out the outlines of the bunks. My back hit the door. It shook, but somehow no one noticed.
“Well, let’s look at our options for this,” Suit B said in a calm voice. But I could hear the quiver, the way his voice didn’t sound as reassured as it had when I’d heard him speak before. He didn’t know what to do with this. He wouldn’t be getting off the bus until it stopped. I had all that time to kill him. He didn’t know what I would do now that he had this new information, if what Joe had said was true, if I really was listening.
“There aren’t any options,” Paul said. “I want a murderer out of my house.”
“Then throw him out,” Suit B said.
I heard silence from Joe. I heard the silence from him loud and clear.
“Then how will the police get him? We have enough evidence to put him to trial and --”
“No,” Suit C cut swiftly across. “That will do more harm than help.”
“Besides he loves Joe, right? Make sure Joe doesn’t get mad at any of you, and you’re all safe,” Suit A finished. Joe didn’t speak.
“Joe didn’t not like Elvis. And Elvis died,” Kevin said.
“True, but Joe never showed lots of affection to the dog.”
“He should be locked up.” I smiled at Kevin’s harsh voice. “And tell me why, with everyone knowing everything he’s done, the police haven’t come to our door?”
“We’ve been paying them off, at least for now. Besides, most of the stuff is said to have been accounted for. There aren’t any charges left to be pressed.”
“What about the new ones? He’s killed that girl, hasn’t he?”
Suit C shrugged. “Not really. At least not to the public, there isn’t any video evidence.”
“The videos? Did you not see the -”
“We bought them off,” Suit C said calmly. “That’s what you do. I don’t believe there are any more copies floating out in cyberspace. People might’ve seen it, but if the police don’t have records of it - which they don’t - they can’t use it in trial, which makes everything useless. Of course, they could hold Tristan for what, 48 hours? But what will that do?”
I laughed then, loud and obnoxiously. Suit B spun around to the door. He slammed it open, and I came rolling out, heels over head.
Joe’s eyes shot towards me as I stood up, shaking the hair away from my eyes.
Joe had to swallow before his spoke. “Tristan?”
“I think I’m Flash right now.” I don’t know how the words came out; if they came out as a sneer or triumph. “What do you think Kevin? Do you think the orange suit would look good on my body?”
Joe reached forward, and grabbed my arm. He was so much weaker than when he’d held me in his lap. “Come on,” he muttered.
“Joe, we’re not -”
“We’re done,” Joe cut off his father. I ducked my head down as Joe led me back. “I need to take a shower.” He kissed the top of my forehead, and I ducked away.
Perfect wasn’t there anymore.
He pulled back hurt. I climbed into my own bunk, curling into the wall, and slowly falling asleep.
Nick twisted and screamed below me. I laughed, raising the knife higher. I let it drop down, falling into his arm. He sobbed, and I jiggled the knife to pull it out, and as I pulled, Joe didn’t flinch at the pain in his arm. He lay unmoving on the bed. His skin leaking blood. I choked when I saw it was his body. I dropped the knife onto the feather pillows. I grasped at Joe. I tried to save him. I tried to force the blood back into his body, but it wasn’t blood, it was hair. Red hair, sprouting out of his body. It wrapped around my wrists and I couldn’t move. Like blood. Like blood.
I banged my head into the wall and jerked back, my heart pounding. Joe.
I pulled the curtain back roughly, stumbling to the ground. I scrambled up to his bunk, and there he was. I let my head drop, breath escaping me.
“Tristan?” he asked softly. I froze. “Bad dream?” I started back down. “I used to have ones about Kevin suffocating, because he had panic attacks when we first went on tour. I used to sit in front of his bunk for the night, so I knew he still breathed.”
“I killed you.”
Joe’s arm limply fell over to me. “I’m alive. Get up.”
I pushed up the last few steps. Joe didn’t pull me into his arms. He didn’t pretend everything was alright between us. I faced out of the bunk, and Joe turned to face the wall. Our backs touched, impossible not to in the cramped space.
“I know you’re mad at me for what I said,” Joe muttered, half-asleep. I listened, half-awake. “I shouldn’t have said that. I knew you were listening. I can’t take back words. But I’m not going to let them take you away. I know you heard what I said. You can’t hurt anyone though. Come to me first, okay? Even if we’re not okay tomorrow.”
I closed my eyes. “Before I do anything, I’ll come to you first.”
“Mkay.” His foot brushed up against mine. I breathed him in, still facing the other way. I could imagine his hair, air drying. I liked it best that way, natural.
Not perfect.
~*~