Torment (One Direction Fan Fiction)

Stupid Fuckin Weed Addict

“What’s this?” The first off day Joey had had in a while started with a bang. Or should we say…bong. Zayn looked up from the magazine he had been reading, chewing on a red string of some sort of candy. She held a small bag of weed in her hands. Zayn scowled at it.

“That’s old.” He muttered, looking back down. Joey leaned forward, grabbing his chin roughly and forcing him to look at her.

“Why are you wearing those nerd glasses then?” She demanded with a small forced smile.

“Oh fuck off Joey!” he snapped, pulling his chin out of her hands. She grabbed them off, throwing them at the floor where they slid to a halt at the leg of a chair.

“Why are your eyes bloodshot?” She demanded loudly. Zayn stood up so he was in her face and she squeaked, crouching away.

“Why the fuck do you give shit.” He sneered. “You gonna tell me your little sob story, eh? Tell me how your life isn’t perfect, blah blah blah. Shove it where it fits Joey. Stop trying to be a saint.” He spat, shoving her aside and marching away.

“Excuse me?” She breathed.

“YOU HEARD ME JOEY.” He roared, whipping around to glare her down. It was a Saturday morning and he’d hardly slept.

“How about you ask before you assume.” He sneered.

“Follow your own advice!” She retorted.

“OH PLEASE, JOEY. Cut the fucking crap. Get it out, say what you need to! I can see you want to yell shit at me, make me feel worse than I already do!”

“Why are you always getting so angry at me for nothing?!” She yelled back, her voice high pitched.

“Why are you busting my nuts over some fucking weed?! I’m not doing cocaine!”

“One thing leads to another Zayn.” She whispered.

“Yeah, you’re right! YOU’RE RIGHT! You’d know all about it, because you fuck everything with a fucking penis! I’ve lost count, how many guys do you intend on screwing? Is it Niall? Liam? That guy, Gabe? What about all the people you flirt with in your interviews! Oh, I forgot, you’re a professional slut! But no, I’m the asshole!” He roared.

Joey’s hand met his cheek, hard. She knew how to hit. His head snapped to the side.

“And you’re a druggie.” She said shakily. “And probably an alcoholic. But I’m not complaining because people have their own way of dealing with things.”

She left him standing there as a single tear trailed down her cheek. Zayn could taste blood, but he didn’t move. He kept his heads off to the side as she opened his door wide and then slammed it shut, going straight to Niall’s house.

Zayn didn’t know which hurt more. The fact that she’d slapped him or the fact that she didn’t know that he loved her.

*

“C’mon Joey! Where’s that fire! I need some passion!” Helene frowned. Joey was so flat today. She was out of it, completely. Helene knew it wasn't because she was tired, she’d seen Joey tired and she still became an animal on stage. This was different. Something was bugging her.

Joey’s shoulders hunched forward and she sighed. “Sorry, I’m just tired.” She sighed. And hurt…and lost…and miserable…

“Rubbish.” Helene snapped. “I’ve seen you tired, and you can still pack a punch! What’s the matter sweetheart? Is Rey alright?” Helene scrambled on stage and then proceeded to wrap Joey in a hug. Joey didn’t cry often, but the tears were forcing their way out and she would admit that she did indeed sob in Helene’s shoulder.

“Oh sweetie. It’s alright love, it’s alright.” Helene cooed as she rubbed Joeys back. She was trying to support the girl, but she was heavy and they both collapsed on their knees.

“I don’t know why I said it.” Joey sobbed. She sounded like she was laughing, but Helene knew she wasn't.

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about dear, but it’ll sort itself out, don’t you worry.”

Helene soothed Joey for another five minutes. “Now c’mon dear, you can do this. Especially now that you have something to fuel it. Put your emotion into the song, it’ll work.” Helene smiled down at Joey, rubbing her arms slowly.

Joey sighed, scrubbing at her cheeks. She had the rare talent of looking beautiful as she cried. Standing there in the middle of the stage she felt vulnerable and childish. The stage was naked of props and instruments. It was just her and the grand piano they brought back for her. She stared at the glowing beast, her body filling with some sort of hunger and desperation.

She fell into the piano bench and began to play from memory. All of it came back. The song she had no name for, no notes written down to play from, she knew it. It was sadness. She let her fingers dance, crash; murder the keys, the notes. She let herself cry onto the perfect keys that weren’t rough on her fingers like her old piano.

She broke down as she played, her eyes fluttering behind her closed lids as the noise filled the broken place in her heart she’d been trying to fix. No, Zayn wasn't what broke it open, but he had triggered it. She crashed on the keys, banging her anger and pain out. So much to be angry about and she’d never let it out.

Helene could only watch. It was some piece of music she had never heard before, and it wasn't beautiful. It was ugly but mesmerising. Sad and weird and she couldn’t put her finger on the ache it gave her.

Joey had finally found a name for her song. Stupid Fucking Weed Addict I Think I’m In-Love With.