Disney and nickeldeon short prompt stories

4 jori-victorious

The fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor flickered, casting an eerie glow on the linoleum floor. Tori Vega sat on a hard plastic chair, her fingers tapping nervously against her thigh. She'd never been a fan of hospitals—the sterile smell, the hushed whispers—it all made her uneasy.

But today was different. Today, her frenemy Jade West was the one lying in a hospital bed, pale and fragile. Tori had received the call—an accident, they said. Jade's motorcycle skidded on a wet road, and now she was here, bruised and battered.

Tori pushed open the door to Jade's room. The sight that greeted her stole her breath away. Jade, usually fierce and unyielding, looked small and vulnerable. Her dark hair was matted, and her eyes—those piercing green eyes—were half-closed.

"Hey," Tori whispered, perching on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Jade's lips twitched into a half-smile. "Like I got run over by a truck. Or maybe it was a bulldozer. Hard to tell."

Tori chuckled. "You always did have a flair for the dramatic."

Jade winced as she shifted. "Yeah, well, drama's my thing."

Tori hesitated, then reached for Jade's hand. It was cold, and she squeezed it gently. "You scared me, you know. When they said you were in the hospital..."

Jade's gaze softened. "I'm fine, Vega. Just a few broken bones. Nothing that won't heal."

Tori leaned closer. "You're lucky. Motorcycle accidents can be—"

"—fatal," Jade finished. "Yeah, I know. But I'm not going anywhere. Not yet."

They sat in silence, the hum of medical equipment filling the room. Tori traced circles on Jade's palm, her heart aching. They'd fought countless battles—over roles, over Beck, over everything. But here, in this sterile room, none of it mattered.

"Why did you come?" Jade asked, her voice barely audible.

Tori shrugged. "Guess I couldn't stay away. Besides, you owe me a hug."

Jade's eyebrows shot up. "A hug? Seriously?"

Tori grinned. "Yeah. You know, for old times' sake."

Jade's fingers tightened around Tori's. "Fine. But don't expect me to get all mushy."

Tori leaned in, enveloping Jade in a gentle embrace. The scent of antiseptic mingled with Jade's familiar perfume. For a moment, they forgot their rivalry, their past grievances. It was just two girls—two flawed, complicated girls—finding solace in each other.

"You're not so bad, Vega," Jade murmured against Tori's shoulder.

"And you're not so heartless, West."

They stayed like that, holding each other, until a nurse bustled in to check Jade's vitals. Tori reluctantly pulled away, but the warmth lingered.

As she left the room, Tori glanced back. Jade's eyes were closed now, her breathing steady. Maybe, just maybe, this hospital visit had changed something between them. Maybe they weren't enemies anymore.

Outside, Tori leaned against the cold corridor wall. The flickering lights seemed less harsh now. Maybe healing came in unexpected hues—like the fragile bond between Jade and Tori.