Through the Wire - Devour fic - R

[tigriswolf]

Title: Through the Wire
Fandom: Devour
Disclaimer:  Not my characters. Just for fun. 
Warnings: spoilers for movie; AU, I suppose
Pairings: Dakota/Jake
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1100
Point of view: second
Notes: So... House of Wax. New York Minute. Devour. Next is probably "Dawson's Creek" or Blonde.

You never understood why he hung with you—well, besides the whole fucking thing.

You know you’re beautiful, but so was he. The prettiest boy you’d ever laid eyes on.

You met Jake Grey in eighth grade and fell in love. 

-

It was your fourth school in six years and Momma said it’d be the last. Daddy was dead, finally—drunk himself into a coma and his cigarette set him on fire.

You think Momma killed him but you never asked.

You showed up to school a week late in a baggy shirt and sweatpants. The teacher sat you in the back next to a hunched-over boy with red hair. Some girls sniggered when you hobbled by—your leg still hurt from Daddy’s last lesson.

A different boy glanced up when you passed him—his hazel eyes looked deep into you. Your breath caught and your brain froze, but then he grinned. You had to grin back and the spell broke, letting you slip into the desk behind him.

“I’m Jake,” he said, offering you a hand after class.

“Dakota,” you answered and never looked back.

-

Too soon, Jake discovered your secret, your shame, your past.

“Your father raped you?” he gasped with horror, five months into your friendship, collapsing next to you in your backyard.

He never explained how he knew. You were too shaken to ask.

You couldn’t meet his gaze; he’d leave you now, cast you aside like a broken toy, not worth the energy it’d take to fix it.

“Dakota,” he murmured and you looked up. He raised a hand to your cheek and lightly traced your jaw. “It was not your fault. Understand?”

Until he said that, no matter what Momma told you, you’d believed you brought it on yourself somehow, that you deserved it. But something in his tone, in his eyes, in the way he touched you told you that you were innocent. That you hadn’t wanted it, hadn’t deserved it—

You could feel your soul lightening. So you kissed him.

At first, he pulled away. It was not rejection, you knew that—he wanted to make sure he hadn’t somehow told you to. So you smiled at him and leaned forward, kissing him again. 

-

Sometimes you wonder if you’d do anything different. You know that you wouldn’t. In the end, just being near him was worth all the pain.

-

Connie and Jake, the misfits of school. Druggies and drunkards and fools—except for the part where Jake aced each test without trying and Connie could draw better than da Vinci. You didn’t fit in with them, and you knew it; but Jake made you feel welcome and Connie would follow him to the ends of the earth.

Even years later, after everything, you didn’t fully understand their relationship. You knew Connie’s childhood had been similar to yours, but Jake—his mother was paralyzed, true, but his father seemed nice.

Something was always off, though. Something just… felt wrong, when he spoke of his family.

-

The year passed quickly. Soon eighth grade was gone and high school loomed, and an endless summer that you thought would end the friendship.

Then towards the end of June, Jake called you up and asked if they could crash at your place. “Just for a little while,” he whispered into the phone. “Please, Dakota. Connie—he’s—Dad’s in one of his moods.”

You could never deny Jake anything. You never really wanted to. “Of course,” you answered. “Mom’s gone for the week.”

When they showed up, Jake was practically carrying Connie, whose face was mangled. He never did look the same.

“He needs the hospital!” you quietly shrieked. “Jake!”

“No!” he responded, shooting you a dark look. “No, Dakota. They’d take him away, send him to a worse place. Okay? We’ve done this before and we’ll do it again, and that’s the way it is.” He waited a beat for your reaction, then said, “Please get some ice.”

So you did.

That week, you seduced Jake. He didn’t fight very hard, and actually tried to pleasure you, which felt... nice.

You fell even harder for him because of that.

-

After the Pathway, after Connie died, and Jake’s family, and you finally woke up as yourself, they told you Jake caused it all. That he was sick, crazy, and you had to tell people he’d always been that way.

You ignored them all.

-

Jake could have gone anywhere in the world. You knew he wanted to leave.

But he loved his mother and he loved Connie, and you like to believe he loved you.

You’d grown up even more beautiful, and so had Jake. You knew what men wanted and you gave it to them; Jake remained one of the few who made it good for you, as well.

Life wasn’t good, by any means, and you wouldn’t say you were happy. But you’d never expected much, and neither had Connie. But Jake… he seemed to be waiting for something, and as his twenty-first birthday drew near, he grew distant.

And that night… as he spoke of his daydream, of killing the priest and his family and everyone…

For an instant, you almost understood. There had always been an edge to Jake, something that spoke of darkness and danger and death. Of rage and despair and fear—something that scared you, as you looked in his eyes after his admission.

But that moment passed and everything happened so swiftly.

-

You look back and you still love him. You can’t help but love him. He was so beautiful.

-

You’re old now, with one son and two daughters. Their father is a good man. Kind and loving, and sometimes you imagine his brown eyes are hazel.

You don’t think about anything before your twenty-fifth birthday if you can help it. That’s when you escaped to Florida and put everything behind you. You changed your name and your past; you erased Dakota and became Danielle.

Sometimes the phone rings when you’re alone. You don’t answer.

They said Jake died in custody. Just stopped breathing. You know he faked them all out.

Jake couldn’t die. You’ve never understood how you know that.

Connie died, and Jake’s parents. Others. All by Jake’s hands, the police claimed. But there was more—the Pathway. And the woman who told you to kill your professor.

-

The phone rings and you don’t answer.

You love him. But your husband is kind.

The phone keeps ringing.

-

You miss eighth grade and the smiling boy with hazel eyes.

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[tigriswolf]

Thank you.