The Victorious [BxBxB] ✓

Three-Way Lunch Plan

James spent the majority of the next two weeks in Oliver's room. Victor was around more often now that he had to catch up on his mandatory reading and homework.

Whenever he was back, he felt an odd pressure to say something.

He didn't know what.

"So," Oliver started, "are you going to tell me what's up, or do I have to keep pretending I can't tell?"

"What do you mean?" James asked, taking the pen out of his mouth. He knew it was a bad habit, but he couldn't stop.

"I mean, judging by our pattern, I'm usually the one that comes to your room. And you're here now. I don't mind, really-really don't mind. But why? Did something happened?"

James chewed on the possibility of telling Oliver. He wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do. It wasn't his story, after all. It felt like a violation.

"James." They were both sitting on the floor with a couple of chip bags opened around them. One of them had a very strong cheese smell. Oliver's purple reusable water bottle was right in the middle, like a weird candle. James stared at those things.

"You know, you don't have to tell me." Oliver moved closer to him. "But you can, if you want to."

"It's not me," James said. He couldn't look Oliver in the eye, as if he had done something wrong.

"I figured as much when I walked in on you two."

James took a deep breath, reached over, and took Oliver's water. His mouth felt dry. Then, he told him everything. Oliver listened, nodding once in a while to encourage him to keep going.

"Ok," Oliver said, leaning his head on James' shoulder. "I can understand why you might feel awkward about it."

"Oh, awkward is putting it mildly. On the one hand, I want to be around, you know. I want to keep an eye out, but on the other hand, I feel like he's going to tell me to go fuck myself. He isn't exactly..."

"Open to help?"

James nodded. "So, what do I do?"

Oliver thought for a second. "You're not very good at lit papers," he said, "and I'm dyslexic, so this is giving me a headache."

"Wait, you have dyslexia?"

"We're not talking about me now." He smiled. "I think we should just... hang out with him? Ask him for help with literature and philosophy stuff. I don't think we can make him talk, and I feel like if I say anything, he's going to get biblically angry. At both of us! Maybe just having non-toxic friends around will help?"

"I guess... And if he tells us to fuck off?"

"I'll drop on the floor and start crying." Oliver nodded. "It's quite a good argument."

James chuckled and cupped his face, then squeezed his cheeks gently.

"Kiss my forehead," Oliver said.

James did.

They picked up some of their stuff, including the snacks and walked to James' room. Oliver didn't even knock. He barged in so loudly that Victor dropped his book on his lap.

Victor sat and lifted his knees so he could rest his elbows on them. He was wearing gray sweatpants, and that hit differently.

"Hello, Vicky-Vic," Oliver said, grinning from ear to ear.