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"Tori, I really can't talk right now," you said, holding tight to the knob of your front door.
"Please! I just-" you had been avoiding her eyes up to this point, because you knew if you looked into those eyes you'd fall apart. Her voice though, her completely wrecked voice, had you looking up from your socks. Her nose was red and her eyes were full of unshed tears, though you could see the stains of past tears on her cheeks.
"I didn't come here to fight," she began, taking a shaky inhale of cold air. "I came here to say that I'm sorry for treating you the way I have been. I've been so wrapped up in the musical and-"
"No, Tori, you've been wrapped up in making sure you're the star of the musical. The same way you do every time something comes up that you can be the star of. You knew that Jade wanted it and it wasn't in your radar until she brought it up. Then you jumped on it despite how badly she wanted it. All you care about is being the star!"
"I know!" Tori cried. "I was being selfish and self-centered and I wasn't thinking about who I was hurting. But I couldn't let it affect our relationship, so I dropped out. I couldn't let that be the reason you left me because I love you," she admitted. You flinched back like the words were a physical shove. Your heart started to race as Tori took a step back, like her own words surprised her. "I-," she stammered. "I love you," she nodded assuringly.
"Tori," your breath fell away from you.
"I'm sorry for everything, I am. I can't lose you over this, y/n, please," she stepped towards you, her hands shaking at her sides. You take in a deep breath, shaky but sure.
"I love you too," you repeat with a soft smile. Toris chest falls with relief as she wraps herself around you. You wrap your arms around her, burying your face in her neck.
Beck
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Five hours of cramming for your art history final had you exhausted and every muscle in your back knotted. Beck had went to the kitchen to wash the few dishes that the two of you had used, and when he came back, you were fast asleep on the couch. He walked around slowly, looking down at you. Your hair was a mess, your reading glasses were halfway off of your face, your cheeks were still red with frustration, and your mascara was smudged, but you had never looked more beautiful in his eyes. He smiled softly as he kneeled down beside the couch. He carefully pulled your glasses off, folded them, and set them on the coffee table. He pushed your hair away from your forehead and kissed it softly.
