The Victorious [BxBxB] ✓

Let's Talk About The Truth

The atmosphere changed, and Isabella tensed. Victor looked at her in the eye, unblinking and calm. James was expecting the storm, the thunder, the fighting. He was now more uncomfortable than ever.

She smiled. "That's ridiculous."

Victor didn't answer. He placed his hands on the table and sighed, closing his eyes for a brief second. "Mom."

"You know what, I don't care." She shrugged and crossed her arms, falling against the backrest. "Most men cheat anyway, especially the rich ones."

"Mom," Victor repeated, bringing his hands together. "Mason is a liar and a cheater. He's using the shred of authority he has over the school to expel a teenager. That's wrong, and I'm sure you can see it."

His mother shrugged again. Victor clenched his hands harder, probably trying to keep his frustration under control.

It was like talking to a child. A spoiled child.

"So, it doesn't bother you that Mason is fucking eighteen-year-old guys?" Victor said it with the coldness of a man twisting a knife in a wound.

"No."

Victor peeled his hands apart and rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers. Emma walked in with a pitcher of lemonade. She looked at all of them, placed the iced beverage on the table, then touched Isabella's shoulder.

"Is everything ok?"

"No," Victor said. He rested his hands on the table again and looked up at Emma. "She's unwilling to listen to me."

"Oh, come on, Bella, he's your son."

"I know that!" Isabella said, slapping the table. "But I can't have him sit there and lie to me about what Mason's doing."

"I'm not lying." Victor sighed, already exhausted by this conversation.

"What is Mason doing?" Emma asked, frowning. She looked at Victor, then at his mother, before sitting down next to Isabella.

"Cheating." Victor didn't break eye contact with his mother.

"Mason is an asshole," Emma said. "Do you think he's more trustworthy than Victor?"

Isabella clenched her jaw. "I don't want to deal with this, ok?!" She stood. "I have enough on my head already."

Victor stood too, but slowly. "Do you?" he asked.

"Don't be rude." Isabella glared at him.

"This isn't me being rude, this is trying to talk to my mother." Victor paused and pushed his fingers through his hair aggressively. "Why are you taking his side?" He wasn't yelling, he wasn't raising his voice, but James heard the tension.

"I'm not!" Isabella threw her hands in the air and took a step back. "You're being paranoid for no reason and accusing me of things! I don't want to be involved in any drama."

Victor exhaled slowly, grinding his teeth, his frustration palpable. James had seen him angry and he had seen the way he carried his fury around him like a cloud, not knowing what to do with it, breaking under the pressure of his own feelings.

"You don't want to - " Victor stopped and closed his eyes. He rubbed his face, then clenched his fists. Then he looked at his mother and smiled with no trace of humor. He picked up a plate and threw it on the ground.

The sound of it breaking made everyone jump. It didn't seem to make him feel any better. James wanted to grab his hand. Victor watched the shards, unimpressed, then lifted another plate and threw it into the wall. He sighed, his shoulders dropping.

"You don't want to be involved in this drama?!" Victor laughed, and just like his smile, it held no kindness. "How appropriate for someone who lounges all day next to the pool. Poor you, right? Oh, so very busy. So very sad. You think you're the only one that feels bad?"

"I'm allowed to feel bad!" Isabella said.

Victor inhaled sharply. "Wallow in self-pity all you want, but you're not the only one that suffered."

"I lost my husband!" Isabella whined.

"And I lost my dad." Victor snapped. "You think that wasn't traumatizing? I'm the one that found him. I was a child! Do you think that didn't hurt? Not everything is about you. So, wake up and listen to what I'm telling you. For once – for once in your life, listen to me."

"How do I know you're not lying because – because you don't like him? You never liked him anyway."

James felt his palm sweat, his anger churning in his stomach. Victor's points flew right over her head, or she didn't want to adress them, or she didn't care. Regardless of her intentions, regardless of her past sorrows, James couldn't sympathize. Maybe this made him cruel. He didn't care. She was an adult, so lost in her own pain that Victor's - her son's - became inconsequential to her, but they weren't to James.

"Lying?" Victor repeated, the word drenched in anguish. He raised his eyebrows, and opened his mouth, but didn't add anything else. He watched her, betrayed. Hurt.

James couldn't handle it anymore. He had the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her back to reality. She was so lost in her own head that whatever Victor was saying was met with a barrage of denial. A wall. He wanted to shout at her to listen, to hear, and to stop talking.

Victor held his head, looking away from Isabella to the table.

"He's not lying!" Oliver's voice rang through the room, as offended as James felt by her lack of trust. "This is a horrible thing to say to him. You should support your son, not put him down. And for what? For who?!"

"Ollie. Ollie, it's fine." Victor closed his eyes and sighed.

"It's not fine." Oliver got up. "There is nothing fine about how this conversation is going."

Seeing Victor look so utterly defeated crushed James' heart. He stood. "This is useless," he said, placing his hand on Victor's shoulder. "Let's go, let's get out of here, we can figure something else."

Author's note<3: 

This is escalating! Our boy Victor is out there breaking plates. I hope Emma won't have to clean it, she did nothing wrong.

Hint, hint, I wouldn't lose hope just yet!