Twisted Pretzel Chapter 9: Memories
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 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 say that mirrors can hold people’s souls. I think we should find the one that holds mine, and break it, so I can get it back, because, really, I don’t see myself with having a soul right now. I laugh as I think about pass people I’ve killed or their screams of pain. That probably indicates no soul. Everyone is always saying weird shit about mirrors. Things like, “They aren’t the true reflections of people. It’s only the outer beautiful they show.” I get a kick out of that. So are they saying I’m not a beautiful whore? Because, half the time that’s what I look at, and I’m pretty sure that’s an accurate description. They’re just missing out on the whole killer aspect. See, then the mirror isn’t lying; it’s just giving you the half truth. Do you want a lie or half truth? I don’t really care. Do whatever you want with me; I’ll laugh half the time.
I was dreaming, my mind on over drive. I was holding someone’s heart, squeezing it and laughing, but then I started to choke. I squeezed the heart harder, my skin started to shrivel. My heart, I looked at the heart in my hand, cracked but still able to pump blood. It was black. It was pumping black blood-
“Tristan!” I bolted awake, twisting to find Joe standing in my doorway. He was breathing heavily, eyes wide. He looked so scared.
“What?” I got out groggily. My mind was slower now that the immediate thought of death was gone.
Joe ignored me, just looked at me from the doorway. “You’re here, thank God, you’re here.” He clutched the frame as if it was his life support. He looked like he was going to fall over if it wasn’t there to keep it up. He was so pale, and I saw what Frankie had said about him losing weight. He looked like he had lost twenty pounds. He looked like a fucking ghost and that was not a good thing to look like. But then, I was going to kill him. So I guess it didn’t matter. Less fat to cut through, not like he really had any before, but oh well.
“Are you okay?” I asked tightly.
“We thought you went out. No,” he shook his head, “I saw you go out. I saw you leave the house, in my hoodie, and you looked so-Your room…”
“I look my room?” I asked curiously, not having followed the statement.
“Your room, what happened to your room?” Joe started to take a step in.
“No!” I screeched. “Don’t step.” He froze and I swallowed. I had forgotten about the room. It was a mess. The mirror was all over the floor, broken and shattered. I didn’t want him to step on glass.
“You broke the mirror,” Joe said dumbly, and I flinched as his eyes sped around the room, taking in the “rearranging” I had done. The dresser was slammed awkwardly up against the wall next to him, gashes in the wooden backboard that had held the glass. There were gash marks where I had stabbed each piece of glass.
“You’re talking to me now,” I pointed out when the silence got too much, and his gaze too searching. I didn’t want him trying to pry answers out of me. I didn’t want that, I didn’t need that.
Joe’s face hardened as he looked back at me. “That’s because I thought you were dead.”
“Why the hell would I be dead?”
Joe screamed, “Because Daniel’s dead, Tristan!” I flinched at how powerful his voice was. I hated how it echoed around the room and rang in my ears.
“Who’s Daniel?” I asked stupidly. Joe ignored me.
“They barely found his body, mutated and burned to a crisp. I don’t even know how they knew it was him. Whoever did that to him tried to burn this entire neighborhood down!”
“Did he do that?”
“Did he do what? And who is he?”
“The killer,” I said patiently. “Did he burn down the whole neighborhood?” I tried to keep my voice as level as possible, looking at Joe’s ragged form across the room.
“No, but that’s not-”
“We’re still alive, and that’s all that matters.” Joe swallowed. I rolled out of bed, my feet bare. I started to go towards Joe, but he stopped me with a sharp look.
“Shoes.” I rolled my eyes before grabbing a pair of shoes that were lying around. “He could do it again, kill. You know that, right? We’re not as safe as we thought.”
I walked over, glass crunching under my feet, and placed my hands on Joe’s shoulders. I made him look me in the eye. “We’re here, we’re alive. That’s all that matters.”
“But-”
“Shush,” I commanded, a finger on his lips. “So what if they do it again, you’re alive, I’m alive, your brother and parents are alive, right?”
“But Daniel’s dead.”
“Who the hell is Daniel?” Seriously? Who was this so important Daniel?
“The bodyguard I sent out after you.”
I felt my temper flare. Joe had been the one to send Cookie out after me? Who the hell did he think he was, my mother? “You sent someone out after me?”
Joe didn’t seem to hear me. “I killed him,” he said softly. I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “I killed him,” Joe repeated.
“How the hell did you kill him?”
“I sent him after you. Oh God, but what if I hadn’t? He would be alive, and you’d be dead. He would’ve gotten you.”
My head reeled at trying to follow Joe’s thought process as he was starting to collapse in on himself. “I wouldn’t have gotten killed.”
“But he-”
“I can take care of myself.” I killed Daniel. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t kill myself.
“You don’t know what he can do; the killer… Shit, you haven’t seen the pictures of Daniel’s body! His heart was gone from his body; the killer took it out!” Joe screamed at me disgusted.
I’d wanted so tell him so badly that I had been the one to do it that I had been the one to rip out the heart. I wanted Joe to be disgusted at me, yell at me. I didn’t know why. I didn’t want to be blamed, I didn’t want to be caught, but I hated how Joe was talking as if the killer was someone else. As if it wasn’t me standing in front of him! I killed this Daniel. Me. Me. Me. I ripped out his heart and lit the forest on fire to burn.
“Forget about it,” I whisper instead of telling Joe I had been the one to kill Daniel, killed Miranda’s brother. “We’re alive, that’s what matters.”
“You know,” Joe started out softly, moving his hands to my waist. He sounded so broken, so scared and still caught in shock. “I never thought someone would die being our bodyguard. We’re not the president. People say they hate us, but they don’t want to kill us. He wasn’t even with us; he was just following my orders when he died.”
I laughed at the humor in it all, and I pushed Joe up against the doorframe. “Guess what?”
“What?” I smirked moving my hands to either side of Joe’s face. He sighed. “Just tell me.” I blinked lazily at him. His chocolate eyes darted around quickly, and then leaned in forward, giving me a quick peck.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I lied. It was his fault. In so many ways.
If he reads this, he’ll know that it was his fault, and I lied to him. It was his fault he sent Daniel out after me. It was his fault for not talking to me that I went out in the first place. It was his fault he hadn’t gotten rid of me the first chance he got. It was his fault someone died. Sorry buddy, you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.
He pushed me away, and I let him, stepping back into my room with a crunch of glass. “What did you do to your room?” he asked harshly, and I flinched at the sudden change of emotion. Weren’t we just having a good time just outside my room?
“Messed it up a bit.”
“How are you going to pay for it?” he sneered.
I snarled at his jab. “Do you want me to work as a prostitute for you? I bet you I can pay it off in no time then. How much an hour do I get?”
“You’ll never be able to pay it back even if you got thousand an hour.” He pointed to the dresser that was thoroughly trashed, my handiwork. “That was our great-grandmother’s. I don’t know how much it cost, but never will you be able to give it back to Mom for what it was worth to her.”
“Shouldn’t have put something so valuable in an unstable person’s room.” I shot back.
“You’re right, you shouldn’t even be here. You’re going to get yourself killed. You’re going to get me killed.”
“I knew you were always the selfish brother.”
“You didn’t even know our names when you came here.”
“I knew you were all pussies. Just didn’t know how much until now.”
“Screw you.”
“Yes, please. You and your little brother, Nick.” I stood with my arms cross, shattered mirror all around me.
“God, you just - arg!” Joe ran a hand through his hair, not yet straightened, and I swallowed and I realized he had probably come right down to see if I was alright the moment he woke up. Well didn’t that make me feel like a jerk? “Just, can we not fight? Please?”
I snorted. “You started it.”
“Yeah…yeah, I did, and I’m sorry.” I nodded stiffly in small acceptance. “Are you really unstable?”
I gave a choke of laughter. “I think so, never really been tested.”
“What have you done?”
“Destroyed this room, killed a person or two…” I replied with a shrug, realizing too late I had never pressed for a kiss. But then, he didn’t take my word for granite. “So you talking to me now?”
“I think so?”
“Right. Frankie’s worried about you. You’ve lost weight.”
Joe shrugged it off like no big deal. “I always do before tours.” He started to walk away, sighing I jogged to catch up with him in the hallway.
“Why weren’t you talking to me?”
“Just stressed.”
“I’m not allowed to lie to you, you can’t lie to me. Besides, I can spot it, so don’t even try.”
Joe spun around and pressed me to the wall. I could feel every inch of his body, hot and cold. “Remember when I followed you? That day in the woods? I had you like this, pressed up against a tree.”
I nodded mutely.
“And I told you that I knew what people wanted. I gave them just a bit, and they thought they could control me. You got all scared; you didn’t know if you could read me. Do you think you can read me now?”
I kept my expression neutral. I wasn’t sure how to react.
“Tell me, Flash, do you know me well enough to say why I didn’t talk to you?”
He smirked at my face as realization came to me. I spoke slowly, “You didn’t think I had told you the truth somewhere down the line.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know, somewhere. No, our relationship…” My eyes widened, my expression turned mocking. “God - you thought we were dating or some shit!”
“What?”
I laughed and snuck in for a peck on the cheek. I had caught him off guard. “You silly boy, this is what a whore does, gives someone something to play with, with no strings attached. You got attached.” I laughed and broke away from him, walking down to the kitchen.
“No, Tristan! I -” he broke off as I turned the corner to Denise and breakfast.
It was a yummy breakfast. It was a good day in general I think.
I got reprimanded for the dresser. Denise asked why, and I made some bullshit lie about some bullshit. I don’t even remember what it was, but she fell for it. I love Denise, I really do, but the woman was so naïve. Or maybe she just pretended she was.
I don’t think she is now, because of me. She went through all the shit that had to do with me. She probably saw things in clear light, saw past the bullshit, the moment my trial came around. She’s not stupid, only innocent in a sense.
I couldn’t find my sketchbook and blamed the loss on the dog, not thinking twice about it. I should’ve thought twice, I really should’ve. I mean, I had to force a single paper done the dumb dog’s throat, it wouldn’t eat a whole sketch book without someone shoving it down its throat, and no one in the Jonas family would’ve done that. But end of thought. Case closed then and there.
I thought Joe was avoiding me again, because I had figured something out. I went back to my room and cleaned it up as best as I could. I was in a trance, tracing the marks on the back of the dresser, when Joe walked in. He closed the door softly behind him, and with the small click of the lock I looked up at him. My finger stilled on a deep gash. He cleared his throat awkwardly; his hand still on the handle, like he was having second thoughts.
“Are you gay?”
“I’m bi.”
“So you like girls and boys.”
“That’s pretty much what bi is.”
“What if you only like some guys, and you’re a guy?”
“I don’t swing for the ugly guys.” Joe gave me a hard look. I sighed, looking up at where the mirror had been. “If you like dicks, you’re gay. If you like dicks and pussies, then you’re bi. If you just like girls, you’re straight. Why?”
Joe, of course, ignored my question, bulldozing on. “Are you with Garbo?”
“I kind of want to fuck him. He has a pretty nice body and is at that good age.”
“He’s bi?”
“I don’t think so, but then he kissed me and, I think, liked it, so he’s bi.”
Joe swallowed. “So I’m bi, because I kiss you?”
I shrugged. I didn’t know what to say. I moved to my bed and laid back on it. The ceiling was an interesting cream cheese color. Frankie had a lot of footage of it. “Yeah, you’re bi, especially if you like it. But to the whole world you’re straight.” I rolled and looked at him with a wick smile. “Just for me, you’re bi.”
His hand left the door and he crouched on the bed next to me, his eyes sweeping over my form. I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. Then he leaned down, and his face hovered just inches in front of mine. I closed my eyes, his breath felt so good over my skin. He smelled more minty than usual.
His lips just barely brushed mine.
My eyes fluttered open.
“You like me?” he whispered breathlessly as he left my lips. “Truth. Do you like me the same way I think I like you? Do I have to kiss it out of you?”
He pressed another kiss to my lips, this one hot as his tongue wormed its way inside my lips.
“Maybe,” I gasped when he pulled back. I so wanted him in me. I smashed my lips back to his. I tugged at the bottom of his shirt, getting it free from his pants. I pushed my hands up under it. He gasped, and I attached my lips to his neck, sucking hard.
“No,” he protested in a husky voice that I shivered at. “No marks.”
I bit at his neck and he pulled free. I pulled his shirt off, and kissed his lips to silent the protests. He was mine now. That’s what he had said in fewer words. Mine. I looked at him, eye raking over his sharp form. I could see him. I listened to his soft moan as I placed my ear on his heart, racing fast underneath me. I could hear him. I breathed in deeply, mint and expensive perfume intermixing. I could smell him. I dipped my head to capture a nipple in my mouth, sucking softly like a baby. I could taste him. See, hear, smell, taste him; all at once.
He withered and panted. I moaned and I pulled his nipple into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around it, before planting butterfly kisses down his body. I licked lightly at his bellybutton, fingers tracing the raised ribs. I placed my thigh between his legs, and we moaned together.
I slid down to the waist band of his pants, and his breathing hitched. I let my fingers dance at the top, tracing the line, before pressing my fingers under. He let out a fast breath and I let my fingers curl in the hair. His hands came up to grab my hair, and I groaned as he tugged. I found him at last, my hand down the front his pants. I let my fingers brush him, and he moaned.
I could touch him.
“Stop!” Joe jerked out of whatever trance he had been in. I growled, my hand wrapped solidly around him. He was so hard. I was so fucking hard. “You can’t. The ring.”
“Screw the ring.”
“Flash.” I squeezed. “Tristan,” he moaned. “Stop.”
See, hear, smell, taste, touch.
“You’re not going to lose your virginity if we do this, just if you go in me.” Lies.
Joe put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me away. I growled low as my hand slipped out of his jeans. My dick fucking hard. Do you know how annoying a dick is when it’s hard? “You’re hard, I’m hard. You made me hard.” I crouched down and brought my face just inches away from his. “You better fix it.”
He rolled away out from under me. “No, I - I can’t it’s… too soon.”
“Look at me,” I commanded him. He stayed facing away from me. “Look at me!” Joe’s head jerked around to look at me, his eyes wide.
“Be quiet, someone could hear you.”
“What does it matter?” I purred out. “You’ve been kissing me this whole time, you don’t seem to care, why should you care what others think? You’ve been doing what you want your whole life and not giving a damn that so many people think you’re pussies.”
“It’s not the same.” He rolled off the bed and stood up. He wasn’t wearing shoes. I hoped he didn’t get anything stuck in his feet. I hoped I got all the glass off the floor. “Is that all I was to you? Just someone to kiss?”
I judged his face, I judged his voice. I judged everything I could about him to try and understand what he was thinking, how he wanted me to react. I didn’t know what I wanted to say, so I fell back on the job. I was supposed to get close to him. So fucking close it hurt. If I said no, if I said he meant more to me, then I might be able to hold his heart. I would be as close as anyone would be able to get to him.
“Tristan?” Joe’s voice danced around me, stupid and annoying, lovable and intoxicating.
“So you like me?” I asked, rather than answering the question. I didn’t know how to answer it yet.
“I’m not sure, is it wrong?”
I snorted, sitting on the edge of the ruffled bed. “You are asking the wrong person. My moral values are so different than yours.”
“What are your moral values?”
“I thought we were talking love here.” I laughed at how Joe threw up his hands, running one through his hair. He smiled softly at my laugh. I responded with a grin.
“Just, no one can know. Okay?”
“Why not?”
Joe shuffled his feet awkwardly. “No one can. It would… it would be bad.”
“So I’m going to be your little secret,” I spat out sharply, arms folded. For some reason I hated that idea. I didn’t want to be a secret even though all the time before I had been running. Running and trying to blend in, and hide, and pretend I was never there when I really was. But now I wanted to be out. I wanted to be recognized, even if it wasn’t with my own name. I could start a new with everything Mrs. Johnson had given me. The background and the relations.
I could forget everything. Forget her.
“It would have to be that way, because…” Joe trailed off, and I saw the effort it took for him to try and explain what was going on in his head. I couldn’t read him well enough to know what he was really thinking, not then. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t. “People won’t accept us. I highly doubt Mom with accept it. She - it isn’t like she hates gays or bi’s, or whatever, just, it’s against our religion.”
“So you don’t think we could ever be more than a hidden couple. Would I be your dear mistress? Or mister? While you go on your happy, happy dating spree with Camilla. She’s a bitch, and I can tell you before I would hurt you, she’ll turn around and pulverize you.”
“I’ll break up with her,” Joe responded quickly. His eyes were pleading with me now. It made me sick that I had to call a judgment on Camilla that I wasn’t even sure was true. Before I met this boy, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. I could’ve spun a tale of her being a thief and killer and made the lie to believable. I could’ve destroyed her to someone else, and not given a flying shit.
“What will you say to her?”
“It doesn’t work between us.”
“Not the truth?”
“Trist… I can’t…”
“Yes, you can. You don’t have to give her the whole truth. Just tell her you’ve found someone else. You don’t like her anymore. You think she’s a fucking bitch and -- !” Joe’s hand slapped over my mouth.
“Shut up. That’s not the truth.” His features softened. “But I’ll tell her something close. Be my boyfriend?”
If Joe’s hand wasn’t over my mouth, I would’ve laughed at how ridiculous that statement sounded coming from Joe’s mouth. You would think he would’ve been more resisting.
You think he would’ve second guessed his decision.
~*~