a/n: I'm usually a complete, full-on, maxi Beck/Jade shipper, so writing some Beck/Tori was a new occurrence which I am certainly not used to, so I hereby apologize for any possible OOC-ness. I actually liked getting into the mind of Tori Vega, because I don't really write for her a lot, which was a nice break. It's nice to write for something other than your usual ship, so I recommend it. Also, I used some of the lyrics of Fly Me to the Moon by Frank Sinatra. Enjoy.
constellations
wishing on shooting stars
.
.
It's the story of a girl with a broken heart and scars that run as deep as oceans and experiences she'd rather not think about, a boy wondering where to go, heart scratched and burned.
They're lying beside each other, watching the sun set as they shield their eyes. She looks at everything but him, his heart-wrenching brown eyes, trying to remember the last time they've been this close, this real, and she can't think of one. Unsurprising, she concludes, but she lets her fingers brush against his.
He stares at her and watches as the sun hits her face, making her glow. He reaches over to grab his cherry lemonade, and when he does, their fingers brush innocently, contracting a spark to go off. She sucks in a breath and continues staring at the sky, wondering how to end this silence.
"Do you," she begins, startling him. Her voice is choked and she's dangerously close to letting her facade slip. "Do you wonder what the sky would look like without the sky would look like without the sun and clouds?"
It's a meaningless question, weightless, even, and it isn't meant to be taken seriously. He stares at her with an odd look and then he shrugs, coolly, averting his brown eyes back to the glimmering orange sky. She thrums her nails against the pavement impatiently and grins.
"Lifeless," he replies instantly, eyes glued to the enlightened sky. "The clouds and sun is like your heart, and the sky is like you. Without your heart, you're lifeless, and that's what the sky looks like without the sun and clouds." He smiles almost in a self-congratulatory kind of way.
She blinks, uncomprehending, and then his words sink in, and she can't help but smirk. "I can't believe it," she says. "Beck Oliver is deep. I thought you always just hilariously unaware of everything around you." She shakes her head and she dons the ends of her black combat boots, grinning.
Beck chuckles, and then grins, genuinely. She averts her eyes back to the sky and allows herself to inch closer to him. She thinks this is a little risky, but they're both alone, on the rooftop of her house, staring out at the sky, they're all by themselves and she doesn't have anything to lose.
So, instead, she rests her head on his shoulder and examines their fingers, hears the sounds of their steady hearts beating in rhythm, a broken symphony that rings clear like bells under the sun.
The entire world fades when their eyes lock. This, right now, could be the perfect ending to a broken beginning, to their almost-fairytale, except he's not a prince and she's not a princess, no matter how much she wishes she was.
She shivers the moment his hand touches her flawlessly curled brown ringlets, stares at him as he daringly smiles at her, and she bites her lip so she won't smile back. This could be perfect, that they could be perfect.
Unfortunately, that's not the way they work.
.
It's dark, and she imagines their names written in the stars, her head resting against his breathing chest, mascara drying on her porcelain cheeks.
The moonlight sheds into the dark room and reflects on their skins, making them glow like stars. Her legs are tangled with his, her heart is on the line and she can't believe how vulnerable she feels right now, how faltering, how unguarded.
She caresses the top of his fingers, breathes out heavily, and listens to their hearts beating in symphony, harmony. It sounds broken, but it's okay because she's long given up trying to fix the little pieces of her heart and has let them go, thrown them into the ocean.
He sleepily kisses the back of her neck and runs his fingers throughout her hair, and she can feel the faint smile she knows he's wearing. Lying beside him feels so right that she can't bring herself to let go.
Their hearts beat together in harmony, his arm his draped over her waist, her hair cascades down her shoulders and back and it feels like something out of a fairytale. It makes her feel beautiful; like a princess in silk clothing and expensive pearls, and he's a little like a knight in shining armor.
He opens his eyes and sees her, yawning, grinning, eyes flecking with gold specks and tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks. The moonlight falls on her skin and her long eyelashes bat, and as she reaches forward, he runs his hand through her hair.
"Hey, beautiful," he murmurs, grinning teasingly. She actually lets herself grin, sleepily, but she lets it falter and averts her gaze away from his eyes, because she doesn't like feeling exposed, unsafe. "You look hot today."
"It's still night," she insists, giggly, releasing their fingers as she stares out into the blue night sky. He brushes his lips against the top of her forehead. She feels cold and shivery from under him. He throws her a quilt and she yawns.
"Thanks," she murmurs from under the blanket, pulling it up to her chin and resting her head on the silk pillow. Her eyes flash with emotion as her mascara-coated eyelashes waver.
She can feel the scent of her flowery perfume on his clothes and the flashes of Welcome that she drew on his palm earlier in his mind enlightened, and then she rests her head on his shoulder and listens to the sound of his heartbeat.
.
Later that night, she goes out on her own.
The moonlight is upon her, enlightening her face and her hair and her skin, and she feels so cold in her night shirt and short shorts, hands trailing her arm as she stares out at the sky, counting the stars one by one and wishing.
She sits down on the ground, beside an oak tree, thrumming her fingers nervously as she looks out into the sky, getting lost in the constellations and seas of dark blue.
Her life is like a puzzle, she always has to make everything complex. She can't help it. She remembers how she used to cry in the middle of the night and how hard she prayed because she wanted to get better. She wished on every star she could find, every 11:11 wish was wasted on desired perfection.
She wanted it so much, so badly, and now, looking out at the scenery in front of her, she laughs at how silly she was. Laughs until she hiccups, because nothing is perfect, and neither is she, but she wishes so desperately that wasn't that way.
Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars, she sings softly as she leans over, hands going down and feeling the cold ocean, pressing the bottle against her numb lips, and drinking, still trying to forget. In other words, I love you.
.
She blows out eighteen candles and he's there, beside her, with the rest of the gang. It's raining outside, and she questions the symbolism behind it, but she decides to ignore it as she leans over and blows.
So she leans over and scoops up some pink icing from her cake and places it on the brim of Robbie's glasses. She smiles as his wide-eyed expression has everyone laughing (even though Trina shoots her an odd look from behind him) and Beck winks at her, snaking his hand onto hers.
Jade doesn't notice and instead cracks a cynical joke, something to do with Robbie's hair, and others laugh, making it feel like old times, except she's graduating and everyone is going they're separate ways, and she knows that inside she's just trapped and terrified of the future.
After the cake and presents, she walks out of the school and tries to block out everyone else's happy giggles and ongoing laughter. She wishes it was that easy for her; to fall in the depth of the moment and forget everything else. But it's not.
Beck catches up with her and buys her an ice cone, cherry flavor, her favorite, but she wonders if he has any idea how uneasy she feels underneath when he mentions college and applications.
Insecurity has always been her weakness, and she loathes it with every inch of her being. She wonders if he notices it, notices the little obstacles that lay in front of her, notices how scared she is sometimes.
He used to smile at Jade, lovingly, and he still does, and she wonders if he would smile at her like that, too.
.
When he comes over late at night, she doesn't know what to say.
She's at a lost for words when he grins, smugly, and a stab of nostalgia surges throughout her when he does. It reminds her of when she used to see that kind of smiles, at night, at his house, sleeping on his bed, and she remembers.
He gestures to the cake and the door and she lets him in, because, well, it's not like she's going to leave him stranded out there in the freezing cold when he comes over with a cake and a movie for her. He plops on her couch like it is his (and, honestly, it practically is) and she grins widely as she plops popcorn in the middle of both of them.
His fingers brush against hers and her hand is right under his, she didn't even realize how she was leaning against him, and she wants to untangle herself from him but she can't find the heart to actually do it. It's times like these she really hates herself.
Suddenly, he decides to torture her. Like literal, full-on cruel torture. His toys with her brown hair and his fingers are caressing her knuckles and her neck. He plays her tendrils lightly and brushes his lips on the back of her hand, like a prince, and the act shocks her so much she almost drops her knife when she reaches over to cut the cake.
But she doesn't, thankfully. She cuts a piece and scoops some icing on the top of her finger, grinning as she places it on the brim of his nose. He wipes it off and she leans against him for support, limbs tangled, legs entwined.
She licks down more of the cake, the nightlight reflecting off their skins and she leans over and kisses him, slowly, fragile, and he runs his hand down her back.
"No present?" she asks playfully, breaking the kiss, but still close enough. Their fingers are intertwined, and her heart fills with joy, happiness, and it takes all she has not to lean forward and kiss him again. It's dark in the room, her lips taste like cake and his taste like her lip-gloss.
He grins widely. "Aren't I enough?"
His smile is wry, and she bites her lip, closing her eyes and seeing stars, brightly lit and glowing. He leans in and kisses her again, in the dark, and it feels beautiful. She traces circles on his arm and smiles against his lips, a little hesitantly.
She sleeps next to him for the rest of the night, only sleeps, because despite all evidence to contrary, she doesn't want to get too attached.
.
The next day, when she wakes up in an empty bed, she can't help feeling disappointed.
But the feeling melts away immediately afterwards she sees the loose-leaf note beside her, on the silver box on the tabletop, and she leans over, shivering as she removes the note from the box and sits up straight so she can read it.
For you, is what the sticky note pasted on top of the box reads at the very top, and she breathes out heavily as she pulls over the sheets she was swathed in.
She scrunches her nose up when she realizes that the cold wind has made it red, but she ignores it and removes the wrapping paper off the glittery box. Then, she sees the silvery bracelet inside, but when she looks closer, she sees it's made out of small stars.
Since you're such a star, the card reads at the very end. It isn't signed, but the handwriting is lopsided and messy enough for her to know who exactly wrote it.
.
There are now places they would go at midnight, just the two of them, when they can't sleep and they're cell phones are in close reach and both of them have each other on speed dial. She likes to think of it as romantic, considering it's a little like a forbidden love story, something torn out of a romance novel.
Twist is no one is actually forbidding it. Their parents aren't exactly opposing it, the exact opposite, actually, and she thinks that she might be getting it a little over her head. She thinks the only people forbidding it is the universe, or the stars, or some of that deep, but she thinks it is more of her fear that consumes her.
"College," she says one dark and dusky night. "Colleges are accepting applications soon. Do you want to go?"
His silence scares her slightly, and she actually hates herself for it, hates that she could care this much. Then she remembers why she ran from him in the first place; she was afraid of loving him to an extent where he could break her heart.
"College is for suckers," he replies wryly, tracing her name on her neck. She chuckles at the joke, looks up so their eyes will meet, and she grasps his fingers around hers, admiring the way they fit perfectly. She caresses them and sighs.
"Of course," she murmurs, shaking her head lightly. She breathes in and sighs. It would be so easy to pretend right now, but for some reason, she doesn't want to.
"What if I don't make it?" she asks, and she's dangerously close to crying, but she manages to hold it back and suck in a heavy breath. Firmly instructing herself to keep it together, she continues, but only barely. "What if I'm not good enough?"
He pulls her into an embrace, stroking her hair. "You're Tori Vega. You'll probably end up ruling the whole world."
He grins widely, and it's so infectious she can't help but smile back. And then after that all the seriousness has melted in the atmosphere.
They watch the stars in silence, hands brushing, breathing heavily. She's close enough to hear his heart beating with hers in harmony, but it sounds broken. She doesn't mind, though, since everything in her life has practically fallen apart.
.
College is a word she hears everyday now, and it absolutely terrifies her.
She thinks she should apply to UCLA, like Cat and Jade, but somewhere inside of her tells her that it isn't right. Time drags on and her opportunities are being missed, and even Beck applies to college and gets in, but when she finally finds it inside of her to apply, she gets rejected.
Rejection is something she's certainly not used to. She doesn't cry; she mostly just feels anger. It hurts to know that everyone is going up, and she goes down, and the courage to apply somewhere else disappears.
In the end, colleges stop accepting applications and it's too late already, and she absolutely can't stand watching everyone move forward and climb up in the world as she goes down and watch helplessly as her life turns from a world of color to a book with gray pages that breaks day by day.
.
Lying in beside him in RV, Tori has to smile when Beck strums his guitar for her, fingers brushing against hers gingerly, almost too gingerly. She leans over and kisses his cheek gently; it's a mere brushing of lips against skin.
Running his hands through her tangled hair, he pulls her close to him, and she listens to the sound of his heartbeat, grinning lightly as her eyelashes waver from under him. He's a little bit like a knight in shining armor, she concurs.
But this is anything but a fairytale.
.
"I'm leaving," she whispers to him one night, lying beside him on his bed, in his RV, clutching the blanket nervously. "I can't stay here anymore. It hurts too much." she says, averting her gaze away from him. "I'm scared, Beck, I'm so scared of the future."
She does one daring thing that night—she looks into his eyes. She chews on the insides of her mouth, heart thumping continuously, and expects to see pain, sadness, fury, and expects him to explode and yell at her for leaving.
Honestly, she actually hopes for it, wishes he'd be mad at her, wishes she'd see some hurt and pain behind his brown eyes, because regardless she's still a scared little girl under the whole unshakable facade she puts on, and she wants to feel wanted, needed, and she wants to see how badly she can make him feel, despite the selfishness behind it.
So she looks into his eyes and sees understanding, sadness, a world of pain swirling inside, and he looks like a lost puppy with those big, brown eyes of his looking into hers like that. He holds her close, runs his hand down her curly brown locks, and rocks her back and forth.
"Okay," he murmurs into her hair, and she feels tears streaming down her golden-brown skin, biting down on her lower lip so hard she feels blood oozing out. Squeezing her eyes shut, she breathes in heavily, looking out into the dusky sky.
"Okay," he echoes, hands still buried under her brown hair and eyes shut tight, and, for a terrifying split second, he looks more scared than she actually feels. "If this is something you have to do, I won't stop you."
She feels something cracking in her chest. Regardless, she leans over and intertwines their fingers, and then looks up and kisses him, like she won't see him again, and for a moment she thinks she can feel tears of his own falling down his cheeks, but dismisses it as her imagination going wild.
.
He actually goes with her to the airport, which is half-sweet, half-heartbreaking.
She books the latest flight to Paris, because it's the place she was drawn to ever since she was five, and when she stands in the middle of the airport, watching the airplanes take off and listening to the loudspeaker, she wants to cry.
"Here you go," he says, softly, and she can tell that he's trying to keep his voice as even as possible. He hand her, calmly, her navy blue suitcase and she nods, running her finger down her curled brown hair that lies against her now pale cheeks.
"Thanks," she murmurs softly, looking up and meeting his brown eyes. Big mistake, she concludes, because they hold sadness and fear and she blinks, breathing in heavily. He smiles at her and rubs his fingers on her knuckles repeatedly.
"Have a good flight, Tori," he wishes, and she blinks, dangerously close to crying. She thinks of how selfish she's being—ignoring her conscience and going somewhere far away just because she's afraid, and she knows she's breaking his heart, even though he doesn't want to show it.
She stands on her tiptoes and gives him one a long, goodbye kiss on the lips, caressing the back of his neck with her fingers. He wraps his arms around her waist and she breaks the kiss, sighing and resting her head on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat.
The loudspeaker announces her flight and she untangles herself, grabbing her suitcase and turning on her heel, blinking her teary eyes. She bites her lower lip as he murmurs something as he hugs her that sounds suspiciously like I love you, but she can't be sure.
Sitting in the airplane, she looks out, and feels her heart aching with sadness and regret. She closes her eyes, prays to God for strength, because she has none left.
Afterwards she spells out her name out on the frosty window, and then, below, she spells his.
.
Paris isn't home; it's pretty much the furthest thing from it, actually.
All the things that surround her are unfamiliar and everything is in a language she barely knows. It feels wrong, not right, and she feels her heart aching in her ribcage when she stares into the fireplace and imagines her heart burning.
Her apartment feels unfamiliar, unloving and distant, the sheets aren't cold enough, there aren't any fish tanks in front of her, and there's no delicate and melodic guitar strumming. She knows she's really just missing Beck and his RV, but she gave it all up because of her fear, her constant anxiety and her insecurities, and she hates herself for it.
Sighing, she reaches over and grabs another one of the many letters she wrote but couldn't bring herself to send, tears it and throws it into the burning flames. She watches it incinerate, and cringes, thrumming her fingers rhythmically.
Nothing here feels like home, everything feels surreal instead, but she takes it anyway, using her college funds to get by. The only thing she really likes is watching the stars and Eiffel Tower from her bedroom window, wondering if he's looking at a similar sky, too.
.
"Come home, Vega," says André, calling her in the middle of the night. Tori hasn't not gotten used to the time difference yet, so she doesn't mind, and deep down she's happy to hear his voice, but hates the upcoming difficult discussion. He clears his throat. "Or did you actually do all that 'finding out who you are' crap in Paris?"
She sucks in a shaky breath, thrumming her nails on the bedside table as she tilts her head to stare at the constellations, admiring the view. She wants to lie, but he knows her too well, and she's sick of lying, sick of dishonesty.
"No," she responds, brusquely, but luckily he isn't offended by her rather snappy response, "Unfortunately." Her favorite book is clutched on her lap, and she's sure he's annoyed by the unfortunate, less-than-happy situation and results.
"I can't say I'm surprised," he responds tersely, and a silence occurs. He shocks her when he replies with a knowing, "You always run." Her voice gets caught in her throat, and her voice comes out uneven, choked, and uncertain.
"What are you talking about?" she asks, shifting her phone to her right hand as she sits up straight, looking at her watery reflection. She can hear him sighing sadly on the other end of the line, and she struggles to hold the phone properly.
"You, Tori," he says, sternly, and there is obvious disapproval in his voice, "are always running. You're always so scared of facing the consequences. I know, Tori, I know you don't want to think about life without college, but running isn't the answer."
His reason and rationality shocks her, and she wonders where the always-joking André Harris went, and dismisses it as merely a temporary faze from college.
"I don't know what else to do!" she exclaims, anger taking over her unexpectedly. It shocks them both, but she refuses to stop and settle for bottling her anger. "Do you think it was easy for me? I didn't want to leave, but I don't have a choice." She sighs heavily, waits for his response.
"Yes, you do," he says, and then silence, and she knows he's rephrasing his words. "You did, actually. UCLA isn't the only college in the world; you could have applied to somewhere else, and gotten in, but you let your fear of rejection consume you."
She can't think of anything else to say to prove her point, and when it dawns on her that he's right, she wants slap herself for being so stupid. She's always been a coward, and she's always hated herself for it, but she doesn't know how to stop, doesn't know how to end her cowardice and do something daring.
"I'm such an idiot," she marvels, cussing under her breath. She can hear him sighing, and she bites her lower lip, prepares for the soon-to-be pep-talk. But it doesn't come; instead, she listens to the silence for a full minute and stifles some sobs, chewing the insides of her mouth.
"Beck misses you, Tori," André finally says, sadly, and she feels guilt washing over her in waves. "And I miss you, too." He pauses, and she can hear him chuckling to himself. "Dude, everyone misses you, even Jade."
There's a smile in his voice, and she can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. She knows he must be kidding, and thrums her nails on the bedside table, clutching the phone on her cheek and grinning as she looks out into the sky. It's times like these where she could pretend.
"Are you serious?" she asks, pressing her lips together to suppress further laughter. She knows he's grinning, she can feel it. "I don't think it's humanly possible for Jade to miss me," she adds after an afterthought. He laughs on the other end of the line, nostalgia surges through her.
"She does, actually," he says convincingly, and she can hear piano playing in the background. "She's not too happy with your relationship with Beck, but she misses having someone to berate and belittle. So she settles for the rest of us. And for everyone's sake, Vega, I'm telling you, come back."
She giggles, because it's funny and he laughs as well, but she knows that there's underlying seriousness behind it and she turns serious, breathing in heavily and running her hand down her freezing face, feeling the dried-up tears with her fingers.
"No promises, André, but I'll think about it."
.
She says she'll think about it and ends all conversations with a maybe, but she's a procrastinator, and her fear keeps consuming her. Therapy is seriously considered for her, but there's no doubt that it would feel mortifying, so she chooses to live in denial.
Paris is like a fantasy at night, a fairytale she could live, a role she could play, and there's so much to see here, she doesn't think she wants to leave. But in every good fairytale, a prince has to be current, and she's left hers in Los Angeles.
Staring out her window and glancing at the Eiffel Tower, she traces their names in the stars, crosses her eyes and bites her lips, thinking, thinking; thinking. She misses him, misses him so much it literally hurts, and she wants him back.
Cars pass by the road and she watches them, feet dangling off the pavement, hands touching the freezing metal railings as she glancing out of the balcony, feeling a little bit like a Juliet. All she needs is a Romeo to rescue her and a sunset to run into.
.
Her stay in Paris is long overdue, lasting for as long as a year, but she manages to get a job singing at a nice restaurant with elegant flowering, and from there her French improves up to a point where it's almost fluent, and she's glad.
It is December now, which means winter for Paris, and the snow is clear, graceful and lovely, she admires it, but she misses her sunny hometown more than anything. André, Cat and Trina send her Christmas cards from L.A., and she misses them so much it hurts.
(She also misses a certain long-haired, caramel-skinned boy, but she doesn't think she's ready to admit it, not yet, because she's still so terrified of everything, of consequences, of life.)
Her days are spent singing at restaurants and toasting rich guests, dining with them and making small talk, managing to keep her cozy little apartment, reading letters from Beck and throwing the ones she writes for him into the fireplace.
She wants to come back and wants to question André's sanity playfully when she learns that him and Jade have started dating somewhere in the beginning of their sophomore year in college. Honestly, she's shocked beyond belief, but then remembers that love is complicated and unexpected.
Her home feels more like a house, and even though she wishes she could convince herself otherwise, she knows that this isn't where she belongs, where she should be, and it's no longer an attempt to find out who she is, she's just being a coward and she hates herself for it.
.
"You're very pretty," says a smiling customer in a heavy French accent at a restaurant she's being paid to sing at, when the restaurant is closing down and is nearing midnight. Smiling politely, she accepts the compliment modestly, but she can't pretend that she isn't used to hearing it, because then she'd be a liar.
"Thank you," she says, twirling an estranged strand of her dark hair. His smile broadens and he glances at her, the look in his eyes making her blush, and she looks downwards before meeting his green eyes once again.
"Has any guy ever told you that?" he asks curiously, smiling, and hope lingers in his longing gaze. Her smile falters, and her mind reverts to Beck and his constant you are so beautiful and she blinks, feeling her heart ache at the distant memory.
"Yeah," she responds, trying for a smile. "A lot of them, actually. But it only one boy made the compliment matter."
.
Later that night, when she's watching an old rerun of Modern Family and drinking hot chocolate, wearing an over-sized, worn out sweater that she got from Beck, the doorbell rings.
She nearly drops her mug, because she doesn't let anyone know where she lives (with a few exceptions, of course). For a split second, she wonders if it's André, because she remembers giving him her address in case he wanted to visit.
But if it were him, he would have called and let her know that he was coming. Nervously, she places her mug on her glassy coffee table, and gets up, opens the door warily without even looking in the peephole, which was probably a mistake.
There, she sees the last person she expects to see—she sees Beck.
.
At first, she doesn't know what to say.
Her stomach churns in knots and feels like its sunken sixty feet underwater, her eyes sting and burn, like she's going to cry, but she refuses to, so she blinks them back and musters all the courage she has and opens her mouth, speaks, "What are you doing here?"
He blinks, unfazed at first, staring at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. "Why are you avoiding me, Tori?" he asks, and all the calmness in his gaze has disappeared, replaced by a terrorizing fury that she wishes she never saw.
"I... I'm not," she says, averting her gaze from him. He grabs her chin, forcefully, makes her look into his eyes, and she sees a world of pain she's terrified that she's caused, and she hates how glassy they look. She steps back, looking at her floor.
"Leave me alone," she snaps, staring her feet. He stares at her, furious, walking towards her and placing his hands on her shoulders, gently, and the act sends electric shocks throughout her body and makes butterflies frolic in her stomach.
She looks up and faces him, faces inches apart, burn marks on her lower arm. She sniffs, daringly facing him, and she's shocked at the courage and fearlessness that pile up inside her. "I don't love you," she says. It's a lie, so obviously, and it makes something shatter in his eyes.
But at the same time, it makes him all the more furious. "Stop lying for one once, would you?" he says, raising his voice, and making her insides swirl. He should not be able to have this much power over her, but he does, and it scares her. Scares her to no end, makes her feel helpless.
She hates it. Hates feeling scared, hates feeling helpless, and hates it so much it makes her angrier at him, so she wriggles out of his grasp and pushes on his chest, trying to get away.
"I'm not lying," she insists, but the way her voice cracks suggests otherwise. She blinks back the tears and feels her heart aching painfully in her chest.
"Yes, you are," he insists, getting closer, fingers tracing her hands, trailing down her arm and goodness, it's driving her mad. It makes her want to lean in and kiss him and it makes her feel like she's incinerating, like she's deteriorating, and hey, she is, but she doesn't want to feel that way.
"No, I'm no—" she tries, so desperately to convince herself and him, but she can't, because he cuts her off with a kiss, kisses her so hard she's sure it's going to leave a bruise in the morning, and she wraps her arms around his neck, and just decides to stop fighting.
He runs his hand down her hair and continues kissing her, but softer this time, lighter, and she closes her eyes, presses her face closer to his and let their wet tears lean against each other. It feels like falling, but right here, right now, she doesn't think she even cares.
.
His fingers tangle up in her hair, she sees stars, brightly lit and glowing, and her heartbeat accelerates, but she's never felt more comforted, more content. He sleepily kisses her hand, brushing his lips against her skin, and she lets out a shaky breath, leaning over and facing him.
It feels like coming home, like the stars aren't scattered, like she's finally doing something right in her life and it feels so good, so wonderfully good, she wishes it could go on forever. Her fingers twine with his and she kisses him, because she's missed him, and also because, she thinks she deserves love, too.
"I have to go," he whispers, tangling his hands in her brown curls. "I have school in two days."
Her heart sinks, and she wonders if this is how he felt when she told him the same thing not too long ago. Daringly, he smiles at her, and it makes her heart flip continuously and she grins sneakily, face buried in her pillow, fingers intertwined with his as she leans against him.
"So what?" she replies, shrugging. "I don't think you'd mind spending a few more days here, would you?" She grins in that sneaky way of hers and he smiles back, and it makes her heart melt so much she just has to kiss him again, once, twice, so many times until she loses count.
"Promise me something," she says, leaning backwards, breaking the kiss. His eyebrows furrow in confusion but he nods anyways, grinning charmingly at her, and her eyelashes waver. "Promise me you won't force me to leave Paris, promise me that you'll settle for visits during holidays for now."
It seems like he wants to oppose, but he sighs heavily, leans in forward, and brushes her cheek with his thumb. "I promise," he says, twining their pinkie fingers and holding them up. She laughs, and it rings clear like bells, reverberates throughout the room, and she grins.
"Good," she says gently, wishing and resting her head on his chest as she watches the snow and moon from behind her wavering, mascara-ringed eyes. She leans over, gently, tracing the top of their fingers and kisses him again, brightly, and it makes the entire room light up.
.
The very next day, she brings him to a park with oak trees, but after a while, when the snow clears up, she drags him to her favorite spot in the place: beautiful sparkling lake. It's crystal clear, a bottom of pebbles at the end of it, and she grins at him, twining their fingers as they lean forward.
"Isn't it beautiful?" she asks admiringly, her eyes containing a dreamy emotion as she glances downwards. He smiles down at her, hand at the top of her head and streaking down her flawlessly curled locks, brushing his hands on her cold neck and watching her with a smile.
"Yeah," he says, and he opens his mouth to say something else, but he closes it. She can tell that he wants to say something, maybe not as beautiful as you but then he grins at her, leans forward and kisses her, makes her smile as she runs her hands through his dark hair, grinning.
It makes her fall in love with him all over again, three times, and she murmurs those three words against his lips, almost inaudibly, but she knows he knows. Neither of them pulls apart when the rain occurs and pours down on them, and she laughs as they trip themselves over, falling into the lake together.
She wants nothing more than this, and when he kisses her, brushes his lips against hers, it feels like nothing else matters, and every worry floats off her skin immediately, melting into the air when she wraps her arms around his neck.
.
a/n: I just fell in love with these two somewhere along the way of writing this story, and I love their interactions on the show. I think I'm torn between Beck/Jade and Beck/Tori. I love them both for entirely different reasons. Anyways, review, please, it would really mean a lot.