The Victorious [BxBxB] ✓

The High

James woke up with a headache strong enough to break his will to live. He grunted, got out of bed, and rubbed his face. It was morning, finally. His late-night sins were still heavy around his neck, a thick chain suffocating him. He looked at Victor's empty bed and a rush of adrenaline wired him up. He scanned the room for shoes and his coat. They were missing. He told himself to calm down, after all, he had no right to tell Victor what to do with his free time.

He went to the cafeteria and got some eggs, toast, and extra bacon. He also got orange juice for Oliver.

Victor was not there. He scanned the entire room at least five times, then three more times to be sure. James felt restless. James thought about Victor being drunk again. James thought about Victor's bruises. He cared so much it made him sick. Yet it was morning, it wasn't even nine o'clock, surely, not even Victor would start his shenanigans so early in the day.

He took the food back to his room. Through a mutual agreement on all three parties that shared that space, the floor had become the place to eat from. He sat down, trying not to kick over Victor's tower of cans. He passed Oliver his food.

"Ok," Oliver sighed, holding a straw pressed on the inside of his upper lip. "What wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," James shrugged, hoping that he didn't sound tense.

Oliver hummed, his eyes lingering on James. He could feel them burn into his skin and the shame within him burst aflame again. Oliver knows. It was an irrational idea, but that train of thought was already derailing. Oliver knew for sure and he was judging him. Of course, he was judging him! He jerked off thinking of someone else. Images of Victor on his knees flashed in his mind. He pushed them back. He didn't need to think of that now. It was stupid, there was no way Oliver had any clue what kind of crap filled his brain.

"Are you sure?" Oliver asked again, in that same tone of voice that reminded him of a therapist. Too nice, too understanding.

"I'm fine." He smiled. He had to figure a way to bring up his issues, but he wasn't even sure what his issues were. That he liked Victor? That he found Victor obnoxiously attractive. That he now had a clear vision of how Victor would look sucking on his dick?

Something started vibrating. It wasn't his. Oliver patted the bed with his hands until he found the culprit. Shit. He had forgotten to give Victor his phone back.

"Why is this here?" He frowned at the device, confusion was written all over his face. "I know he's messy but damn."

James stretched out his hand and took the phone. It was one of those models that still needed touch ID to be unlocked, but he could see the notifications.

"Are you reading his messages?" Oliver took a fried egg and placed it between two slices of bread.

"No," he said, looking at the sender's name. It was nothing but a string of numbers. Why would Victor bother to save someone's info on his phone, that chaotic prick!

"What does it say?" Oliver took a bite from his sandwich.

"Hey, Vic, we're going out tonight, you know the drill, please answer when your up." James frowned, his left ear started ringing. "And they spelled you're wrong." He placed the phone down.

"I wish I could go on an adventure and follow him again, but I really have to finish my homework. If I get another bad grade, I won't hear the end of it. Will you go with him?"

"What, just me?"

"Yes, you're the tall buff man."

"Jesus, Oliver."