The Victorious [BxBxB] ✓

Different Types Of Trials

It's been almost a fucking week, and James was going mad. Ollie told him the trial date, and James had a strong urge to pull his hair out; he couldn't even do that.

James was staring out the window, half of his body hanging out. The cold hurt. The air hurt. The long branch that kept hitting their window was getting stuck in his sweater.

He looked at the trees and the students and the snow. He looked at the nothingness stretching behind the gates, at the empty road, at the setting sun.

James grunted and closed the window. His phone was on the bed, so he checked it again. He had been checking it obsessively, hoping for a sing from Victor. A text. A call. A damn picture of Freckle. Anything. As always, nothing was waiting for him.

He paced around the room. He looked at Victor's Coke towers, at his unmade bed, and his sketches, at his notebooks and papers and wanted to scream. James reminded himself that this wasn't about him. The trial was in two days, and Victor didn't want him there.

His phone rang, almost giving him a heart attack. James grabbed it, fumbled it with, dropped it in a desperate attempt to answer it.

"Yes?" James was out of breath.

"I-I've been thinking," Victor said, his voice was so soft that it melted James' bones. "I've been thinking," he repeated, a bit clearer. "Telling you not to come is cruel. Ollie said you've been having a hard time."

James was sure he was going to cry. "It's ok if you don't want me to come," he said. "But I'd like to be there. I would really like to be there." He was willing to wait outside, in the car, in the snow, in a fucking tree if he had to.

"Ok. Ok, you can come, but no talking. I'm not in the greatest mood right now. I think I'm losing my mind."

"I'm sorry," James said, feeling weak and useless. "Did you call because of Ollie?"

"No, no. He didn't." Victor paused for a few seconds. "I didn't want to be cruel."

James was hit over the head, or at least that's how it felt. "I love you," were the only words that he could muster to say.

He told Ollie about it. Elena came by later and picked them up. Throughout the car ride, he listened to Oliver chat with his mother, unable to force his brain to focus enough to join the conversation.

He snapped out after she parked the car. James got out and looked around. He knew who he was looking for, and it didn't take long to find him. Victor was smoking, leaning against the building's wall. James walked up to him and scooped him up in his arms. Victor coughed and dropped his cigar; then he rested his palms on James' shoulders.

"Are you crying?"

"No." James was crying, overwhelmed by love and guilt, and God, he was so happy to see him.

Victor laughed.

"Is my pain amusing?" James pulled away and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Yeah." Victor nodded. "A little, yes. You're tough-guy persona isn't really working for you."

James touched Victor's cheek and smiled. "Are you ok?"

"No talking, remember?" Victor took his cigar pack out of his pocket, checked it, and noticed that it was empty. He sighed, disappointed.

"I love you," James said.

"That's talking." Victor turned around and threw the pack in the garbage can.

"I love you so much." James reached out and pulled him back into a hug, burying his face into Victor's neck.

Victor's fingers moved slowly, over James' back. Victor, his lovely Victor, his gentle Victor, didn't deserve to be shouted at. There was nothing hateable about him. James kissed his cheek.

"We'll talk after the trial," James said, pressing his forehead against Victor's. "Are you ok?" He took his hands.

"No." Victor inhaled deeply through his nose and held his breath for a moment. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "I think I'm going to throw up."

James cupped his face. He looked at him, and he found everything he saw attractive, even his dark circles, even his chapped lips, even the redness around his nose and the corners of his eyes.

"Everything will be ok," he said, moving his fingers over the short part of Victor's hair, towards the back of his head, then over his neck. "You don't have to be nervous; you're in the right here. Don't let those assholes intimidate you."

"I'm not intimidated," Victor said, unsure on which leg to lean his weight on. "It's not that. I just - I mean it's - it's the idea of - of everyone knowing. I'm not a frail girl, and I should've been able to - to - I don't know, do something. I think they're thinking that too. I think I'm thinking that too. I don't know. I don't want to have a meltdown there. I - what if I do? Why do I have to break apart for Mason to go to prison? What - " He stopped and closed his eyes. "I'm ranting. We should go inside."

"You shouldn't think like that." James took Victor's hands again and rubbed his knuckles with his thumbs. "It's not your fault. Look at me; it's not your fault." He kissed his hands. "Just a little bit more, then it's over. I know you don't want this, but just a little bit more, and you're done."

"I think wanting a normal life is too much to ask for."

"Of course not," he said. "I'll give you everything you want. Whatever I can."

Victor scrunched up his nose and pressed his lips together. "That's a cheesy thing to say."

"It's romantic!" James puffed a laugh through his nose.

"It's rather kitschy." Victor smiled. Then he turned around and walked into the building.

James followed.

Author's note<3:

"I didn't call because Ollie told me to, but Ollie said you're suffering, and I'm not some kind of MONSTER." Vic, probably. Let me know your thoughts and conspiracy theories.