mixed tapes
Title: Mixed Tapes
Pairing: Jet/Zuko
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst, Romance
Warning: Language, Violence
Notes: I really, really like this one. *preens* For the modern_day project.
Sypnosis: There's something to be said about pretenders who act like they're not
mixed tapes.
track 001. Jet finds the new kid sleeping on the empty soccer field, far out of reach from prying eyes. He's not handsome, he's anything but, but Jet finds the attraction in too-skinny fingers and the rumpled uniform hanging loosely on the frame of skin and bones that don't match in color. There's something to be said about pretenders who act like they're not, so Jet doesn't hide the fact that he's watching this perfectly still boy that gives him a sense of protection, even though the bright marks on his face and neck should give him the opposite.
He isn't ugly, but Jet resists the urge to touch the boy's forehead and wipe off the thin film of sweat and see what he tastes like. He counts three hundred seconds in his head until his heart stopped pounding like a trapped animal - he wipes his hands on his jeans and the boy's eyelids flutter openclose. He shifts in his sleep and his mouth quivers and that scar stays perfectly frozen on his face, a barren wasteland of ridges and feelings and people, Jet just barely traces the outline.
He'd think he was handsome or just a little bit lonely, but when it comes down to the point, Jet can't tell between the two. He maybe wants to kiss him, just once.
Jet didn't think beauty could do things like this to people.
track 002. Jet slams a nameless face into a locker because Jet is tired, tired and maybe worn out by the rituals of proper society and he is Jet so he can do anything he wants to. But in reality, he's just a (shh, don't tell him) coward beneath that careless swagger he wears like an armor.
There are times when he hides inside the bathroom during lunch period and locks himself in his own cage to suffer and waste away in. Always alone. But he doesn't cry (hasn't cried since the day his parents left him waiting and never came back). There's nothing in that shell of a boy until he kicks someone and smells their fear and tastes their blood on his lips until he is satisfied, and then he's back to where he's started. Drained of life, afraid of life. Afraid of himself.
So he punches the boy in the gut and watches him double over, coughing on all fours and Jet doesn't even differentiate from this boy and the next until he sees the flash and burn of red scar tissue. Or maybe it's just in his imagination. Jet doesn't know, he can't care less when he's already this far gone. The only thing that stops him is the hand on his shoulder.
"Jet," says Bee, mouth hard and hand even firmer. "Stop."
The boy spits up red and purple and staggers up, clutching at his knees. He looks up and Jet sees the contempt (pity?) in his eyes. Out of the corner of his vision, Jet sees Long quietly assessing the blood on the ground.
"You disgust me," the blow comes in the form of his voice and fist, and suddenly Jet's on the ground staring up at the boy. Bee makes a move forward but thinks better and stops. His chest hurts.
"Are you fucking suicidal?" Jet gasps, glaring up at this figure.
"You are a coward." Jet watches him tilt his head and wipe off the blood on his mouth and is hit by a wave of sudden desire. Inside his skin, his blood rushes downward and his heart pounds alive. One, two, thre- "I hate cowards." The boy bends over to pick up his books scattered at his feet. He gives them one last look before turning his back on them.
"Fucking asshole," Jet swears, pretends he isn't hard from the sight of the boy's skinny skinny shoulder blades and makes a show of getting up to hide it. "Fucking won't have any idea what hit him."
Long slams shut the locker door and grabs Jet's bag from the floor, hands it to him silently. Jet continues to rage. "Who the hell was that kid, anyway? Does he fucking know who I am?"
Bee rolls her eyes and stares down the empty hallway. "If he knew, he wouldn't have the guts, Jet."
"Good. I'll make sure he does, by the end of this week." Jet swears and drags his hand across his mouth to wipe off the blood. God, I have to know who he is.
"Jet, there is such a thing as going too far," Bee prods gently. He almost snorts. There is no going too far with those eyes, the contempt and maybe-pity that he needs to know what it's for. For him? "Who is he?" Jet asks, once more for good measure.
"Zuko," Long says quietly.
"Zuko," Jet tries - the name feels foreign on his tongue.
"Fucking hell," Bee groans.
track 003. Zuko still believes in fairy tales. Hell, he even reads poetry and sonnets on off days and maybe even Shakespeare. Even so, Zuko'd still rather hang himself than let anyone know that he's actually a romantic at heart.
But Zuko also likes bare sidewalks and empty roads with no speed limits or stop signs, so when he encounters the road block named Jet, he doesn't know what else to do than to push him aside and move on. Except maybe it isn't that easy.
Jet follows him like a shadow for the remainder of the day, whispers dirty nasty things in his ear and promising to do them all if he wanted to, except he wouldn't touch such filthy skin like yours, Zuko. Zuko sees red but it's just from the hunger in the pit of his stomach, probably because he hasn't eaten his lunch yet.
Denial is a funny thing.
Zuko just likes having his path already paved for him.
"Fuck," Jet hisses between his teeth, blood pouding in his ears as well as his fists, "you fucking-"
Zuko smiles and it scares him, drives him further against the wall to let himself breathe and stop shaking so much, stop showing so much fear damn it, punch him because he's just like the other faces he's broken into pieces (Jet is broken into pieces) -
"Why aren't you crying?" Jet snarls, hating this boy and his pitying stare as he looks at him, lacking fear, held by the front of his dirtied shirt. "Why aren't you fucking crying?"
He sees right through Jet. Shit. "Why aren't you?"
And Jet stutters a bit, grip slackening and it takes only that for Zuko to flip their positions, for him to be slammed up onto the lockers and be kicked at, and suddenly Jet's kissing him and Zuko's kissing back and it hurts too much to even think about it.
Zuko tastes like blood.
track 004. Jet wants him. There is a little part of his irrational brain that says Zuko wants him too.
track 005. Or maybe it's just a fad, like Bee says. Maybe it's just a one time thing, like the saying once is enough, and when Jet's had his helping, he's sated. Only there can't be any possible way he's even close to being done, not when he corners him after school but then it's Zuko who's leaving him gasping for breath, leaning against the wall for support. Fate has a fucked up sense of humor, that Jet is sure of.
"You can't keep on doing this," Zuko says one day after walking into the classroom to find a boy on the ground and Jet standing with his fists balled up by his sides.
"Who's going to stop me?" Jet taunts, "you?"
"I'm going to try," Zuko says, and there is no hesitation in his voice.
"How are you going to? You can't make me any different." He pretends his voice isn't shaking.
"I'm not trying to make you different. I'm trying to make you less pathetic."
A snarl of rage, and Jet crosses the length of the room in four long strides. He presses his face closer and feels Zuko's hot breath on his cheek. "Say that again."
Zuko doesn't waver, "You're a pathetic coward."
The worst part is, Jet knows he's right.
After downing four shots of alcohol, Bee is telling Zuko Jet's secrets.
"He's more fragile than you think," Bee laughs, reaching across the counter for the bottle and pouting when she finds no alcohol inside. "I mean, you can tell. If you look hard enough."
Zuko nods and pours her more of the nasty smelling drink from a new bottle. Bee toasts him. "You know, his parents left him when he was little. That's why he acts the way he does."
"That's no excuse for the way he behaves," Zuko says. Bee turns to him unsteadily and nearly falls out of her chair.
"You don't know him."
"I think I do."
"Fuck off, Zuko. You don't know him like I do."
"Maybe not." But I will, Zuko thinks. Bee narrows her eyes and the action would look so much more threatening if she was sober, Zuko was sure.
"You're stuck up kid, you know that?" Bee says. She brings the glass shot to her lips. The last of the alcohol is poured down her throat.
Zuko snorts. "You think I don't?"
"I think you'd be good for him."
"I think so too."
track 006. Zuko finds Jet on the bleachers of the soccer field, resting a cheek in one palm and staring out at the wide stretch of emptiness. He nudges a beer can against Jet's forehead and laughs when he jumps.
"What do you want?" Jet growls, batting away the can, refusing to look at Zuko.
"Nothing," Zuko says truthfully, taking his place on the bleachers, shivering from the wind. "What are you doing out here?"
"Why do you want to know?" Jet counters, snatching up the can and opening it with a crack. The alcohol fizzes over his fingers. "Shit."
"Just because." Zuko tilts his head at Jet, eyes dark and unreadable.
"I'm worried about you," Zuko continues. Jet snorts laughter and swallows half of the beer in one drink, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "That's bullshit."
"That's honesty for you," Zuko says. He moves his hands along his arms for friction and warmth. "It's freezing."
"Then go somewhere else where I won't have to see your face," Jet mutters. Zuko watches him with careful eyes.
"Why do you hate me?"
Jet makes the mistake of looking Zuko in the eye. He sees the emotion there and doesn't know how to deal with the blame. "Stop fucking staring at me."
"I will if you just answer me!"
"I won't if I don't have to!" Jet knows he sounds like a pent-up fucking child, but it's only a fleeting anger he can't lash out on. "Just get the hell away from me."
"This is why I hate you," Zuko is standing now, looming over Jet in a way that he's always disliked, "you're just too much of a coward to admit something is wrong and act like you have a sense of pride so you won't have to talk about it when that's exactly what you need."
Anger boils at the pit of his stomach. Jet's fists clench at the sight of Zuko standing so tall and so fierce and unwavering that he wants to punch him, to make Zuko stop looking at him like that. But he can't bring himself to do it.
"Just...go away."
Zuko makes no noise as he walks away.
Jet bows his head.
"I'm sorry," Zuko says three hours later. Jet leans heavily against the wall and closes his eyes. His voice screams like a heartbeat.
"There's too many things I could be sorry for instead," Jet mutters, refusing to meet Zuko's eyes. Zuko looks down at his shoes.
In reality, Jet needs the attention more than anything else. It's just hard for Zuko to touch something so broken.
track 007.
Why do you hate me?
Because you are so much stronger than I am.
track 008. Jet is like a broken record, of some sort. He's laughing one second and hurting the next, as if he's caught between being okay and hiding in on himself. Once he gets to really know the boy beneath the swagger, Zuko finds him incredibly easy to read, but that doesn't stop him from worrying. Jet hates that.
"You're not my babysitter, or my mother, or my fucking boyfriend," Jet says, eyes dark and mouth a thin white line, "so don't act like one."
"I never meant to," Zuko says, and kisses him.
"I'm gay," Jet announces at the dinner table as if putting some kind of show, but really, his adoptive parents are the only ones listening. Bee intertwines her fingers with Jet's. Jet looks at anywhere but at his father. "It's this kid. I guess you could say I like him." He laughs once, hollow.
The silence is broken with Jet's mother's spoon clattering against the plate. Jet breathes deeply, one, two. His father gets up and slaps him across the face.
Jet looks up at the ceiling. "Mom, Dad, I love you," he says softly. Bee squeezes his hand harder until the skin stretches white over her knuckles. His mother begins to sob.
Bee tosses Jet an ice pack, who shoves it away in contempt. She places her hand over the slightly larger mark on Jet's cheek, hot to the touch.
"This isn't what you wanted," she says quietly. Jet only stares at her blankly, blinking to keep his own empty tears from falling.
"I think it is," Jet says. Bee's mouth quivers.
"Okay. And Jet?" He turns his head to look at her. "I love you, kid, you know?"
"Yeah. Me too."
track 009. Long watches Jet walk back and forth, sneakers making a squeak squeak sound on the tiles. It's more than a little distracting but Long doesn't mind, not really. He writes down the answer to an English question. Jet stops in front of him.
"Jesus, Long," Jet starts, doesn't know how to finish and picks up his pacing. Long scratches out a word. "I think- I think maybe-" He laughs humorlessly. Long looks up at him and quirks an eyebrow.
"That's the point, Long, I don't know what," Jet mutters, kicking at a desk leg and cursing in pain, rubbing at the bruised foot with one hand. Long chews the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.
"Don't laugh," Jet snaps. Long's finger twitches. Jet sighs. "Yeah, you're right. I'm fucked up, aren't I?"
Long looks at him.
"I thought so too."
There is an empty room at the end of the hallway that Zuko uses after school. Or, really, an empty room with a piano. The keyboard is dirty and the piano needs tuning but that is no concern to Zuko, who sits down on the dusty bench and holds his breath as he opens the lid. The keys breathe up dust and Zuko coughs.
He warms up with a set of scales and moves right into Beethoven, Zuko's fingers long since recognized Fur Elise and the opening notes to the piece. He starts out slow. Zuko closes his eyes and remembers the scent of jasmine tea.
Zuko isn't even finished when he hears the telltale swish of fabric on skin and Jet is standing behind him, watching Zuko's fingers move up and down the keyboard in a race. His eyes are narrowed.
"Where did you learn?"
Zuko stops. Jet bites his lip. "Did you take lessons?"
He closes the piano lid. "No."
"Then where?"
"My mother taught me." Zuko's eyebrows are furrowed in that way that makes Jet want to smooth his hands over the creases. "She died."
"Oh," Jet says dumbly. It's like the feeling of missing a step on the stairs, always catching him off guard, but that's how it is with Zuko. "I'm s-"
"Don't be." Zuko taps his fingers against the piano lid, working the age-old dust back into the air. Jet scrambles to get his composure back.
"So can you teach me?" Zuko looks up at him, surprised and just a bit confused. "Well?"
"I guess," Zuko starts slowly, pushing the lid back up to expose yellowed keys. He suddenly turns around on the bench. "But only if you stop beating people up," he says in a half-amused-half-serious tone. Jet's mouth lifts.
"Sure."
Zuko smiles.
track 010. "Shit," Jet says, almost like a sob, "I fucked up, I fucked up, I-" He heaves a breath through his mouth and leans onto Bee. Long puts a hand on his shoulder and rubs in soothing circles.
"It's okay to cry," Long says.
Jet's lips and teeth and fingers says it like a mantra. Save me, save me, save me, but Zuko only looks at him. What is there to save when there's nothing left?
(But the truth is- the truth is, Jet made a suicide tape. It's stupid and reckless and so wrong for such a long time ago, such a child he was, but still -
playlist.
Mom, Dad, I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry, I love you, I love you. I miss you so much, I can't even live like this any more, I really want you guys back, but -
Shit, I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. Bee, Long, I'll miss you. I mean, I really -
Will you guys remember me? I'll remember you. I love you guys -
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry -
- Zuko's really the one who hasn't heard it.)