Title: Silent Author: Kelandris the Mad Fandom: View Askewniverse Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob Rating: B for Breakup. A for Angst. S for Songfic. And a big TARD for me, for writing a Bob-n-Jay break up piece in the first place, you're welcome. Mostly just R for mentions of homosexuality and some kissing stuph. ("This is a kissing book! Oh, man!") Status: New Archive: Drop me a note and it's yours. And on that note... Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net Series/Sequels: Yes, damn it; wrote this as a stand-alone and already it's morphing on me into something else from what was intended. Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended or implied. Honest appreciation of the created works, and the desire to rewrite created history by application of hundredth-of-a-millisecond reactions that few other fans see, motivate this. Ain't nobody making money off anything save the people who actually own the characters, which should still be Kevin Smith, Jason Mewes, View Askew and now Miramax. Notes: Wanted a nice little Bob leaves town and finds he needs Jay thing; didn't expect this outpouring of sentiment. Stupid song. Summary: Bob breaks up with Jay. Warnings: BOB BREAKS UP WITH JAY, are you not reading? I make Bob cry again. I make him suffer. There's at least one more piece of suffering to pair with this. Thank you, yes, refer to the rating section. "Silent" by Kelandris *yellow bird flying got shot in the wing good year for hunters and Christmas parties* Winter in Minneapolis. Brutal winds that cut to the bone, cut across Hennepin to Nicollet where the man in the black trench walked. His dark hair, stiffened by crystalline droplets of once-fog, razored across his face as the wind continued to blow. At some point he stopped, tapping out a cigarette and lighting it, sitting on a set of stairs above a fountain. The chrome-and-stone structure seemed to beckon him, and he spent a lot of time here. He sat in Peavey Plaza, watching the frozen arcs of water where the sunken fountain would be, come spring. And he might be here to watch it. He exhaled a long stream of blue- white smoke, the corners of his eyes wet from wind-shear or memories. Only one who knew Silent Bob could have told which. And the only one who knew him was far away. *and I hate and I hate and I hate and I hate elevator music the way we fight the way I'm left here silent* He'd heard that memories dimmed with time. He was still waiting. *** (Three months earlier) Another anonymous girl in a back alley, Jay coming back looking smug and replete. It was the third girl this week, and suddenly, Bob was angry. Bob was more than angry, he was hurt, and resentful, and aching inside. The whole of his being was transformed to raw skin, and every gesture pulled uncomfortably. And this one... This was the last one. It was one zipless fuck too many. He had to say something. "Jay." "Bitch, don't bother me, I wanna see how many I can score tonight." "No." "What the hell you mean, *no*? Fuck you, tubs. I got--" Bob shook his head, gesturing to the bar's entrance, and Jay pouted. "For fuck's sake, it's not like they *mean* anything! Shit, boy, you'd think you were jealous or some shit!" *oh these little earthquakes here we go again oh, these little earthquakes doesn't take much to rip us into pieces* Jay flung the words at him, expecting no reply, playing with the expressions to cross Bob's face. He was so clearly waiting for them, but for once, Bob didn't want to play. "What if I am?" Dangerous, dangerous words, made more dangerous by their honesty. Words on their own--dangerous, dangerous, but honest words, truthful words--they could flay skin in an instant. Jay stopped. His mouth hung open for a split second. Then he laughed. "You? Fuckin' jealous? Of *what?* You are, like, the ultimate chick magnet, man; sluts I'm tryin' ta make some time with crawl right over my ass to get to yours! Shit, *I* should be jealous!" **But I'm not sleeping with any of them,** Bob thought resentfully. *we danced in graveyards with vampires `til dawn we laughed in the faces of kings never afraid to burn* Aloud, he asked "Are you?" Jay's eyes narrowed, then, and he leaned forward. `You on anything I should know about? You sound gayer than usual." Bob sighed, stubbing out the cigarette. He began to walk to the door. "Hey, don't just up and fuckin' leave, dude, we gots stuff to *talk out*, here!" Bob just shook his head, walking through the dancers gyrating in mad frenzy. Jay didn't understand. Jay never understood. Maybe Jay couldn't, it wasn't in his nature to be faithful to anyone, least of all some guy. *and I hate and I hate and I hate and I hate disintegration watching us wither black winged roses that safely changed their color* **Some guy he might love,** his traitor heart whispered. **Some guy who scares him, because he's never loved a man before.** His head chimed in, making his eyes water. **Oh, and you're such an expert at loving men?** By the time he'd made it outside the bar, and was stepping to the curb, looking for a cab, Jay had caught up with him. One arm flung out to intercept him, as expected; not as expected, he caught the arm, whirling into his tug and nearly into his arms. He just stood there, breathing a little fast, looking up into Jay's eyes. "Fuck..." Jay breathed. Then he shook his head. "Back it *off* tons-a-fun, we ain't married!" Bob licked his lips. Slowly. He watched Jay, and watched how Jay's eyes never left his face. Was it enough? Would it be enough for him to breach those high, cracked-glass walls? Jay sneered, pushing at him. "Hells," he said sarcastically. "Maybe we should set *you* up onna street-corner, you look hungry for man meat! Whaddya say?" He stepped close enough to thrust against Bob for a moment, doing a crude pantomime of a dancer swinging around a pole. Bob didn't move. Jay stuttered to a halt, obviously waiting for Bob to get mad, or step back, or push him away. He stood then, confused, until the expression hardened to contempt. "Well, fuck you, then, Lunchbox--go find some beefcake of the month. I'm gonna go back in and play with the real girls." And that was it. Bob angrily stubbed out his cigarette, and nodded. "You do that," he said softly, and flagged down the next cab. Without a backwards look or listen, he stepped into the car. *oh these little earthquakes here we go again oh, these little earthquakes doesn't take much to rip us into pieces doesn't take much to rip us into pieces* And, between one weekend and the next, he'd packed up everything, and moved to Minneapolis. What point was there to talking things out? He was tired of settling for scraps of Jay's time. Protecting him between deals was easier than protecting a bar stool while Jay took some other chick off to an unlocked car, or a back alley, or a back room. If there was a day where Jay didn't get laid... *** Maybe that had been the problem, he thought, rising off the cold stairs and walking towards the fountain. Maybe Jay had just been bored. It had never been about Jay loving him like he loved Jay; maybe it was just that he hadn't had sex for a while and wanted it. Didn't really matter whether it was some chick in a bar, some chick from the hometown, or him. Well. That was a depressing thought. He looked up, catching a flash of saffron under a black knit cap by the fountain. He shook his head. *I can't reach you I can't reach you I can't reach you I can't reach you cannot reach you* **Now I'm seeing him four states over.** Not that that was any different from the past three months. Jay was haunting his dreams, haunting his daytime hours, lingering behind his eyes no matter where he went. The first month he saw him in everyone, saw him dancing in all the clubs his sister dragged him to, saw him sleeping in all the parks, jiving next to Minnehaha Falls the one time he'd gone out that far. *give me life give me pain give me myself again* He rubbed his eyes, sighing. Obscurely, it had been easier when they weren't sleeping together; at least then all the want and desire and frustration were one-sided. Once they'd started sharing a bed, all the want and desire and frustration had *still* been one-sided, but now, they coiled around Jay's frustrations with him acting jealous, with Jay's fear of commitment, with Jay's dread of change. *give me life give me pain give me myself again* Jay. Ruling his life from several hundred miles gone. He caught the flash of gold again and pursued it, brows furrowing. *give me life give me pain give me myself again* Down in the fountain, there was no one, as expected. Not even a strand of gold hair to tell him someone *had* been there, sheltering from the cold in the heart of winter. He leaned against one of the supports, breathing hard so he wouldn't cry again. He was sick of the tears, sick of the pain in his stomach, sick to death of loving someone who obviously didn't care enough even to come find him. *give me life give me pain give me myself again* And it wasn't that he'd completely disappeared without trace; there were a good handful of people in the tri-town area who knew him, who knew that his sister had moved, who knew that, if he left, he'd probably move in with her for at least a while. Hells, *Jay* could have worked that out, if he'd bothered using his brain for anything more than a coaster. *give me life give me pain give me myself again give me myself again give me life give me pain give me myself again give me myself again* And there was no hope, he knew that, no hope of feeling Jay's cornsilk hair on his skin again, no hope of nuzzling the pot-and- citrus scent from his neck, no hope in holding him, no hope in loving him... Maybe his sister was right, Tatjana of the Sorrows: when he'd arrived, she'd held his face in her long hands, looking at him, and said he should have no hopes for the future, if that hope had brought him here to her with eyes that tore her soul into shreds. *give me life give me pain give me myself again give me myself again give me life give me pain give me myself again give me myself, give me myself* And Bob fell to his knees, sobbing openly, sobbing for everything he'd lost; his Jay, his love, his companion through all the horror years growing up. In one move he'd abandoned it all, and now if he decided he wanted it back, he couldn't have it--because what if Jay said no? He couldn't ask, he couldn't ever ask, and the tears poured down his cheeks, freezing in the chill, and he rocked on the cold, cold stones. *oh, these little earthquakes here we go again oh, these little earthquakes doesn't take much to rip us into pieces doesn't take much to rip us into pieces doesn't take much to rip us into pieces...* "Yo. Fat ass. Get the hell up." **What?** He looked up, sniffling, and Jay stood there. Black knit cap and black jeans and saffron hair and eyes that looked like propane flames, burning out of his long face. Bob stood, shakily, reaching out a hand. **He's not real. He's not real. He's just wish fulfillment, just what I want in this moment--** His hand hit the heavy dark sweater Jay wore, and Jay looked down at the hand. "So," he said, one side of his mouth quirking up. "You're delusional as well as stupid." **What?** Then he shook it all away, the dreams, the desires, whatever had brought the blond here. He no longer cared. He launched himself at Jay, pressing him hard against one of the supports, and kissed him. *kissing as if he were drowning, kissing as if he were dying, and afraid to know for sure... kissing and kissing and kissing, those rope- thin arms wrapping around him, holding him tight, and the only real peace he'd known could only be found in the circle of a frenzied junkie's arms--* "Hey," Jay said softly, pushing him away. "I ain't forgiven you yet." "I don't care," Bob whispered, and kissed him again. Kissed him and kissed him and kissed him, tasting pot and citrus and ashes and new tears, intermixing. Never wanting this moment to end. Dreading what would happen when it did. How much was he going to have to pare off his soul for leaving? END (Song is Tori Amos' "Little Earthquakes") ***** Kelandris the Mad all the world is dangling from you, darling