The Victorious [BxBxB] ✓

Feelings

While James was stuck in class, Victor had found a way to disappear. It's been three days. Three days without Arlington around, and he couldn't focus. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he drinking? Worse? With whom? Was he safe?

The questions made his skin crawl. He didn't want to care this much.

He loved Oliver, and thinking about someone else felt like cheating.

After they finished with classes for that day, Oliver crawled into James' bed and shoved his head into the pillow. They both had to write papers on some poems, and neither of them wanted to read.

"Let's just watch a movie?" Oliver smiled brightly. He got up and hugged him. "Please?"

"You think that you can get anything you want by being cute?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "I really do."

"Fine." James rolled his eyes. "We're watching horror."

Oliver whined. "Fuck!"

Oliver was clinging to his arm for dear life when the door opened. James would've been perfectly fine, absolutely ok, if not for his boyfriend screaming. James jumped.

Victor stopped in his tracks, one foot into the room, his hand still on the handle. He looked not sober.

"Why are you yelling?" His voice was softened by alcohol or something else. But it was still smooth, and it made James' blood boil in all the wrong places.

"You scared me."

Victor walked in, closed the door, and dropped on his bed. Only after he was lying down did he kick his shoes off. He was fine. He was alive. He didn't look hurt or disheveled. The thought of someone touching Victor was he wasn't sober made James' inside go berserk.

"Where were you?" James demanded. Victor turned his head to look at him. He was inches away from falling asleep.

"None of your business." He yawned.

Oliver got up and forced him to drink some water, saying something about helping with the hangover. It was similar to taking care of a child, a rebellious teenager who refused authority.

Oliver was rubbing Victor's back, soothing him into sleep.

"Where were you, Arlington? You were gone for three fucking days."

"Hey," Oliver frowned. "You don't need to be mean to him."

"This is not me being mean," James said. "This is me being pissed off, look at him!"

"Can you shut up?" Victor muttered. "You talk so damn much, just shut up for a second."

It ticked him off more than it should have. He wanted to drag him out of bed and make him explain himself, but that wouldn't be appropriate. Starting a conversation that wasn't superficial also seemed out of this realm. Victor didn't talk – period. He commented, and made remarks, and chatted, sure, but he didn't talk, he didn't share.

He dropped the issue and returned to his bed.

Soon enough, Oliver joined, and they finished the movie. Then they both pretended that they had no other obligations, so they slept.

They slept until Victor tripped over his junk on his way to the bathroom. James woke up and looked at him, walking a little wobbly, pale. Sickly pale.