Untouchable ~ A Jared Leto/MARS Fanfiction

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I silently back out of Jared's room and stumble my way to the chair outside the door most recently occupied by Jimmy. I know I can't go much further than this, so I sit there, my head in my hands, trying to process what I've just witnessed.

Jared. Katia. They're back together? When? How? Why?

And why is there a stabbing ache tearing through me right now?

I know why and this realization changes everything, puts all of it into sharp perspective where it belongs, where it should have stayed.

I'm sitting here like an idiot, wanting to cry, and jealousy's eating me alive. I'm fucking jealous! Jared Leto would never have been interested in someone like me in the first place, so I have no reason to be jealous. I'm not on the same playing field as Katia Valkov. Not even close, no matter what she did to screw him over. I still don't know what it was that broke them up, but it doesn't even matter now. Whatever it was, Jared's obviously forgiven her.

Sure, he kissed me out there in Oak Creek Canyon, and for those few minutes, yeah...I wouldn't be human if I didn't entertain at least the hope that the intense rush of feeling that filled me is mutual. But just like I did that night at the State Fair, I should've come to realize that Jared and I are two different people in two different places in life. He was playing a part even back then, the part of a burgeoning, unbelievably gorgeous rock star with all that being an unbelievably gorgeous rock star entails. And the other morning in Oak Creek Canyon, he just did what he knew would win an argument with me.

Through the roaring whirlwind in my head, I think about what being Jared's 'constant companion' will now entail in light of Katia's re-entry into his life, and it's clear that my zero-bullshit tolerance level is going to lose me this job before it's barely begun. Even if I'm 100% realistic about where Jared and I stand, I detest that woman and I won't be able to hide it.

As I sit there with my head in my hands, I finally admit it to myself. Down inside me, underneath the awful, nauseating jealousy, what I am more than anything is pissed. Because what it really boils down to is that I'm good enough to help Jared go to the bathroom and wipe his ass—something he'd no more ask the ice queen to do than she'd ever dream of doing it—but the ice queen gets his love.

Pissed, jealous. What's the difference? I fooled myself into a place where both can thrive inside me and I hate myself for it.

Well, fuck it, then. Fuck him. They're welcome to each other.

The silent makeout session in his room is continuing, and I want to get up and walk away before they talk. I have no desire to listen to how much Jared missed her, or that he forgives her transgressions, whatever those may be. But I'm rooted to the spot. As much as I don't want to listen to them as they begin speaking, even going so far as to plug my ears like a little kid, I begin to pick up on every single word despite myself. Damn my excellent hearing and damn my body for refusing to leave this chair.

"Do you see now?" I hear Jared say. "It meant nothing. I felt nothing. Not jack shit." A pause. "They don't give out Oscars to bad actors, Katia."

"Mmm. You invite me here and kiss me to prove you don't care about me? How ridiculous. I don't believe you, Jared. I know you too well. You want to fuck me again, I can see it. And you will fuck me again."

"No, I invited you here to tell it straight to your face that I'm over it. Believe whatever spins around in that twisted head of yours, Katia. Go tell it to Kris. You remember Kris, the husband you were supposed to leave, the one you somehow neglected to mention to me for three goddamned months? The one you as well as your father conspired with to use me to further your career?"