This has been a long time coming. I wasn't even going to post it, but here it is. If you like, please drop a review. It'll guilt me into continuing it :)

"I thought I'd buried you

And covered the tracks

You'll have to take this with your cold dead hands

I thought I'd buried you

Where sin can never die"

Robbie is at a Frat Party, also known as one of those places where everybody but him gets laid, when he sees her. It's been a long time, almost two years, but she's changed a lot. The girl's hair is several shades darker than at Hollywood Arts. It's also falling limply onto her shoulders, like chemicals have suffocated the waves he remembers, but he knows it's her.

She's still beautiful, but the longer Robbie's eyes stay locked on her, the more he wonders what happened to the girl he used to know. Robbie's mind flickers back to the last time they'd hung out before she'd left for New York. He remembers her wearing a pair of acid-washed jeans, and a bright purple top emblazoned with cartoon animal of some sort. What had the animal been, a puppy or a kitten? Maybe it had been a giraffe. It had definitely been something cute.

Cute.

The word seems lost on this girl, who's all tight leather pants and a shirt that seems painted on. She's looking at him now, and her eyebrows are clenching together like she remembers him. Robbie's breath hitches in his throat, and he bites down on the inside of his lip. The taste of copper floods his mouth, and that's good enough to force a decision from Robbie. With his throat scratchy and dry, Robbie braces his palms on the table in front of himself. The drinking game he'd been so firmly entangled in only a few moments will rage on without him. Right now though, Tori Vega has just walked back into his life.

Robbie's out of his seat and his leg is raised, ready to take his first step. That's when the arm belonging to the guy to Robbie's left – Aiden, also his roommate – winds around him and drags him back into place. Robbie's eyes slide away from Tori for scant seconds, but that's all it takes. By the time he's dispensed of his roommate, Tori's disappeared.

He doesn't see her again that night. There's no tearful reunion, or anything like that. Robbie even starts to think his mind has conjured a ghost from his past, in it's drunken haze.

It's not until three days later that he catches a familiar figure flying past him in his first lecture of the week. In the end, he sees Tori take a seat right up the back of the lecture hall. Probably in one of the seats Robbie had gotten a nosebleed from in the first lecture of the year. It had been part of an ill-conceived plan to be one of the cool kids.

Robbie steals a few glances at Tori over the course of the lecture, almost giving himself whiplash in the process. With the disinterested expression on her face, Tori's effortlessly one of those kids. One of the ones he'd been so desperate to be. Today she's wearing a white V-neck, and Robbie knows it's one that would have charred her cheeks a deep shade of red in high school. He spends the rest of the lecture wondering if Tori even remembers him. She doesn't even seem to remember who she is.

There's another party at Sigma Epsilon Xi that weekend as well. Of course there is. Robbie's been at Berkley for over two years now, and he thinks that fraternity has held no less than one hundred parties since he's arrived.

On this particular night, Aiden drags him to the Frat house at no later than nine forty. Aiden in addition to being Robbie's roommate, is probably the closest Robbie has come to filling void left by his friends from Hollywood Arts – even Jade, and especially Tori. He's not such a bad guy, Robbie just wishes his roommate would stop bringing up, and then laughing at the gross gluten-free beer he's forced to buy.

"You know Vega?"

The question catches Robbie off guard, and he blinks with great surprise. Turning, he realizes that Aiden is looking at him and his russet eyes are unusually focused. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Robbie cycles through, and then discards several unsatisfactory answers. Somehow he doesn't think I used to love her would be a response Aiden would appreciate. Seeing the edges of his friends focus starting to fray, Robbie settles for the obvious. "Yeah, high school."

"Be careful man. I know I said you need to get laid, but uh -" Aiden says, analysing Robbie critically. "I don't think you're ready for that ride." He finishes, lightly shaking his head. Robbie blinks again, shock carving it's way into his features. When he opens his eyes, Aiden is already wading into the throng of people on the Sigma Epsilon Xi porch. Panicking a little bit, Robbie's forced into darting forward with a long loping step in order to catch up to his friend.

Aiden effortlessly weaves through the endless sea of slightly, or in some cases, really intoxicated students. Robbie meanwhile, lags behind him, getting caught up in stray limbs and consequently having to apologize for spilt drinks. Eventually, after what had felt like an endless struggle, Robbie shoulders his way into the room he'd seen Aiden disappear into a few minutes ago. Smoke immediately erupts through the door and floods Robbie's senses. With no great sense of surprise, Robbie realizes it's not so very legal origin.

Coughing slightly, he presses further into the room, anyway. Through the haze, Robbie sees Aiden already settled into a fairly intimate circle, wedged between two vaguely familiar. Also, there's a back Robbie definitely recalls. It's one that he recognizes from years gone by, and one previous time in this very house.

"No, to the left! Always to the left." Aiden instructs, looking vaguely – very vaguely, actually – annoyed, as Robbie flops down into a widening gap beside him. Steadying himself, Robbie first offers a grateful smile to the girl – Wendy, Wanda, something like that. He's seen her in one of these circles before, and he's sure it had started with a W – for moving over. Having exchanged pleasantries, Robbie's attention shifts to the girl currently inhaling from the tall glass bong Aiden has just demanded be passed to the left.

With her eyes sealed, Tori brings the pipe away from her mouth, and luxuriates with a deep, smoke filled exhale. Again, there are fragments of the girl he used to know, but they're hidden amongst a person Robbie's never met and clouded with a smog Robbie never thought he'd see pass Tori's lips. When Tori's eyelids slide open again, it's only partially. She regards him with a heavy-lidded gaze, the edges of her mouth drifting upward languidly. Paradoxically, fear wells up inside of Robbie and he has to go. He's worn that same grin a couple of times in the past, but seeing it cross Tori's lips is – it's just too weird.

"Headache, gotta go." Robbie blurts out, flying upright and retreating from the room. Once he's broken out of the circle, Robbie careens through the door and pushes his way through the crowd of people he'd only just passed through. Without a second glance behind him, Robbie's out of Sigma Epsilon Xi's bordello of debauchery.

Robbie's too afraid to see Tori again, after that.

He trains his eyes to the front of the lecture on Monday, and embeds himself deep into the heart of every crowd to minimise his chances of seeing her for the rest of the week. By the time Friday smothers him in its embrace, there's a deep gnawing in the pit of Robbie's stomach. He guesses this is what it might be like to be an addict weening themself off a drug. Seeing Tori had been the high, and the realization that she's changed had been the comedown.

"That's pretty deep. You're a weird, emotionally stunted dude, man." Aiden says, laying on his bed across the room and staring at the roof in a slightly addled state.

Kicking his feet off the ground and onto his bed, Robbie absently folds his arms over his abdomen and does the same. It's such a cliché, two roommates staring at the ceiling and saying meaningful things, but that's sort of what college is, a bundled series of clichés and contradictions. Also, Robbie chooses not to mention that either the dude or the man Aiden's just called him was unnecessary, so apparently College is also about compromise.

"Coming out tonight?" Aiden muses toward the ceiling. Robbie pushes his glasses up onto his nose and wonders. Is he coming out tonight? The question dredges up conflicting whirlwinds of fear and excitement, tying his innards in knots, and making him feel physically ill. Draping his arms over his stomach again, Robbie can already feel his palms beginning to sweat – a sure sign he's about to say something he'll later regret.

"Yeah."

So begins take three, the third party of the semester, but hopefully the first time Robbie's going to find his misplaced courage. This time, when Robbie takes his first step through Sigma Epsilon Xi's huge doors, there's a change in the air. It's not the smoke – or lack thereof – but Robbie swears something is different. Aiden leads as usual, but this time, Robbie doesn't get tangled up in other revellers, or waste any precious alcohol. Being Jewish – sort of – Robbie's mind drifts back to the story of Moses and how he'd parted the red sea. Somehow he doesn't think Robbie Shapiro, parter of the drunken swarm will live on beyond a stray Slap post or two.

"Is – is something weird?" Robbie asks in a hushed tone, leaning over Aiden's shoulder and shaking his friend slightly. Detaching himself from Robbie's jittery grip, Aiden twists around and analyses the room. Finally, when he comes to a halt, an answer marinated in stoner wisdom spews forth.

"Yeah, man. I mean – yeah. Something. Something is not on." Aiden says, before pausing thoughtfully and offering another nugget of brilliance. "Can we cruise now, though? This, this is giving me the heebie-jeebies, and I'm not into this whole…not partying at a party, thing."

Sighing, Robbie trails behind his friend and sort of wishes he'd happened upon a different roommate. As much as Aiden reminds him of some sort of weird Beck and Cat lovechild, Robbie feels like sometimes those traits might be a hindrance to actually receiving help.

The night after this is sort of just, it's mostly a standard night at the Frat House, actually. That's not to say there isn't a certain amount of carnage, it's just that two years has a funny way of numbing somebody to these sorts of things. A fight spills onto the Table Robbie'd been playing Beer Pong at, and nobody bats an eyelid. Less than a moment after the scrapping freshman have tumbled into another part of the room, Aiden is patiently resetting their cups.

But yeah.

An hour after that, Robbie finds out that things have a way of shocking you, just when you think you've figured them out. Robbie is leaning on the kitchen counter, having been pulled there by Wendy/Wanda. You know what? From now on it's Big W, since she's sort of tall. Big W is complaining dispassionately about something Aiden has done, as usual. From the bits Robbie can hear between the music floating through the door, it's actually not that big of a deal. Far be it for him to tell her that, though. He might not actually know her name, but Robbie's seen Big W's usually placid features distort in fury over the most peculiar things. Taking the risk that this might be one of those things isn't something Robbie feels like chancing.

"Oh, by the way, that Vega girl is looking for you." Big W mentions idly, tacking the sentence onto the tail end of her rant. Robbie's thick brow slides together, and he wonders when Tori, bringer of sunshine and perkiness became That Vega Girl.

Bidding Big W a farewell, Robbie leans a little more heavily on the counter, and stares at the battered fridge across the kitchen. Random scraps of paper litter the front of it – some torn out articles or old test papers, and others quite obviously girl's numbers. Sharing girls, the thought turns Robbie's stomach and he wonders what sort of guy does that. A shadow passes behind Robbie, and he's about to abandon the kitchen to avoid an awkward conversation when -

"So, uh. Long time no see, huh?" Tori says, sidling up beside – like really beside Robbie – and then hopping up on the kitchen counter next to him.

"Yeah, it's been a minute, huh." Robbie says, forcing himself to be casual in the way he never could at Hollywood Arts.

As he turns around and hoists himself up beside Tori, Robbie guesses she's not the only one to have changed. He's a little different too. It's just she'd been Tori, Queen-Bee of Hollywood Arts, and he'd been Robbie, Third least popular boy in their graduating class. There had actually been a poll on that and – anyway, Robbie's mind keeps spiralling back to one thing. He'd needed to change. Tori, she'd been perfect the way she was.

Glancing sidelong at Tori, he barely recognizes the girl that's now sitting beside him. It's not the shirt that's more holes than material, or the way her eyes are rimmed in enough mascara to put a severe dent in Jade's supply. It's just, it's - her feet aren't even swinging. It's a minor thing, trivial really, but the Hollywood Arts Tori, the real Tori, had always swung her legs in the rare situations she'd been high enough to have the chance. She'd told him once that it helped her forget about being taller than half of the boys in their class.

Distractedly, and more nervously than Robbie's saw her over the last two weeks at these parties – plus the other times he's seen, and sort of stalked her a little bit – Tori pulls a pack of cigarettes from her dark leather bag. Much to Robbie's disbelief, Tori fishes a cigarette from the packet and lifts it to her lips. With his jaw hanging loose, Robbie watches Tori's mouth as it wraps around this, her latest vice.

Tori takes a drag, and then looks up at Robbie guiltily. Then she's holding the pack between them, like that's the reason Robbie had been staring. Numbly, Robbie shakes his head and tries to swallow the thick lump in his throat.

"Same old Rob." Tori says, taking another drag, and then letting the white stick dangle from her fingers. There's an artful carelessness to it, like she's trained herself to be this way.

"Guess that makes one of us." Robbie says, voice raw with emotion. He tacks on a smile, and laughs at the end of it, trying to look casual like Tori does. His lips struggle at the edges, and his laugh sounds like a bark though. All it does it magnify what he'd been trying to hide though; the crushing heaviness of a memory burned by the harsh light of reality.

"Ya noticed, huh?"

The reply drifts through Tori's lips quietly, like it's the first time this has happened. Robbie guesses that to everybody else at this school, they've only ever met this Tori, that Vega girl. He's seen who Tori used to be though, and this girl, she just looks like a distant relative of his old crush – you know, the one that doesn't get invited to Christmas at Grandma's because they're bad news.

"Little bit." Robbie says, taking a deep breath and trying to remember how he used to converse with Tori. It comes to him eventually, and he lifts his arm with a mechanical creak – a metaphorical one, because Robbie is artful, and in his mind relationships are like a machine. This one, the one that represents his relationship with Tori, is rusty from disuse – to gesture with his fingers.

As corroded as his attempted at levity may have been, it brings a soft smile to Tori's face. It's one that looks out of place next to the dark rims of kohl surrounding her eyes, and the deep shade of crimson on her lips. That's not exactly a bad thing though, it's a sign to Robbie that those fragments of his Tori are starting to knit themselves together amid the cage of this Tori.

"Am I -" Tori's lips quiver, and then slump back into their – apparently now – usual lifeless state. "Fuck. You know, time has a way with people, and all that crap." She adds, and Robbie cringes feebly. He's heard girls swear before, several in the last hour. It's just – yet again – his mind wanders back to a time when the worst words Tori could bear to part with were Wazz or Chizz.

"Time sucks. You were – uh, I don't know, maybe you still are – but at Hollywood Arts, you were definitely perfect. I just…I don't know, maybe it's just the moments, like studying and all that dumb stuff you probably don't remember. They were – I just miss the old days, I guess. I just, I missed you Tori." The words clatter through Robbie's lips before he can really decide whether or not he's over sharing. When he finally seizes up, complete with bunched shoulders, Tori looks stricken. She's dropped the cigarette, and her eyes – they don't look so dark – Robbie almost thinks he spots a stray twinkle from their high school days, a rare spark of light within a girl that no longer shines. After Robbie's admission, Tori stares at him for a little while longer. It's slightly unnerving, but then -

She's melting into Robbie's lap and pulling his lips to hers. It's not like what he'd expected. A kiss with Tori Vega, it should be soft and delicate, a warm embrace spreading through his veins. Instead, the embrace that Robbie finds himself sinking into is hard and rough, a desperate plea screaming into his ear. Tori's teeth nip at his lips, and the familiar taste of blood mingles with Tori's bitter nicotine infused flavour. She's broken and Robbie knows this. It's a painful realisation evident in the way Tori's lips are mashed against his, and the way she's slithered into his lap. The only thing that hasn't changed between them is Robbie's dumb little heart, and the way Tori – even this broken Tori – makes it jump around perilously in his chest.

"The fuck, Vega?"

Reluctantly, Robbie disentangles himself from Tori – which is easier said than done, since she shares no such inclination - at that unpleasant interruption. Staring at the huffing and puffing Frat boy that's stomped unnecessarily close to them, Robbie feels his heart tense up as panic begins to course through him. This oversized ogre, Robbie thinks it's the same guy that's sent at least three people in his dorm to the hospital since the beginning of the semester. God knows Robbie is no fighter, so it seems inevitable that he'll be joining Chris in the ICU.