She thinks sometimes, only sometimes, that they - he and she, together - could be,
well, nice.
.Your life will be filled with disappointment, he recites, looking at the unopened fortune cookie in his hand. He doesn't really like Chinese food anyway, but she wanted to come here, and he can't argue with her.
She shakes her head at him, sighs in exasperation.
That was before you were with me, she replies as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Open it. Now, or give it to me.
He shakes his head, and looks down at his food, playing with it, and ignores her when she stamps her foot and groans. He smiles to himself, sneaking it into his pocket anyway.
.
Don't think, just act, it says.
(He saves it and tapes it to his wall
- maybe.)
.
I think you're really pretty, he tells her one day. She glances over at him to see that his eyes are still fixed, though they're glassy, on the stage, and checks that no one else heard them.
Her gaze returns to the glitter and lights again, but she watches him out of the corner of her eye.
Of course, she whispers after a little while, leaning over to him so that his hair brushes her nose. She leans back in her seat.
I sort of think you are too, she adds quietly. She wonders if he smiled.
.
He gets sick. It's just a little cold, but he has to miss two days of school, and Trina won't go near him for a whole week. It's only when he's well again, save for a continuous headache and pale pallor, that she even dares to come near him. She comes after his parents are out, and throws the DVD at his head, and sits down at the other end of the couch with a pizza only for her.
He realises that they're watching the Notebook as soon as Trina starts crying, for no apparent reason to him. She grabs a pillow, buries her face in it, and he wonders if she's getting mascara stains on the fabric. Warily, he reaches over and pats her back, trying to calm her down, only for her to fall into his lap, still crying.
His hands are in mid-air, not knowing what to do, so he just leaves her there, and doesn't touch her, because he knows that's not how they work. She stops crying, anyway. But her head stays in his lap, her hair spread out onto his jeans as she watches the movie, and he can feel the warmth of her back, the feel of her body moving as she breathes in and out.
He falls asleep with her silhouette burnt onto the back of his eyelids.
.
(He likes the feel of his lips pressed against her.
She likes the feel of their hands entwined together.)
.
The third time they kiss is after a concert, where she only sang back-up and he just helped Sinjin with the lights (and she doesn't burn or shine, more just sort of, reflects).
She tastes a little like make-up and a little like Nutella, but mostly she tastes like pink champagne.
They end up in a closet, the light that slips in from underneath the door starting to fade as his hands slide up her dress - she doesn't seem to mind, so he continues, breathes her name so softly that it doesn't even sound like a word anymore.
He takes her back home, catches her when she trips in her high heels, and she doesn't say thank you.
(But he wasn't really expecting her to either.)
.
Their heads are resting on her pillows; her sheets smell like him.
His eyes are starting to slowly close, his breathing slowly. One, two, three, four, beats of her over-beating heart and,
Do you want me to sing to you?His eyes snap open, his pupils wide - she doesn't know him to know why, but she knows that his eyes are a pretty shade of brown.
He looks at her, then turns away, staring at the ceiling.
No, he says. But thanks.
Their hands brush.
.
She stays over at his house one night. (not for any reason at all, she replies when he asks her, I just felt like it). So, he lets her in and they sit on his bed and watch a movie, except she has glazed eyes, and doesn't move her hand away when he takes hers in his.
By the end, she's fallen asleep, but their hands are still intertwined.
He falls down beside her, strokes the hair out of her eyes, and frowns at himself, because he knows that he shouldn't be doing this; this isn't the way they work. Trina's forehead is creased slightly, but he sees the corner of her mouth turning up in what looks like a small smile (he doesn't understand her, he remembers).
After awhile, he just gives in, rests his head against the pillow and shuts his eyes tightly as his arm goes around her waist, unconsciously waiting for the slap across his face when Trina realises what he's done.
It never comes.
(And she ends up staying the whole night and he lets her, even though he wakes up at the edge of the bed, Trina now being in the middle of the bed.
He doesn't really care.)
.
I like you too, she says softly, without warning.
He kisses her cheek.
Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious.
A/N: Crappy fic is crappy, I know. Mainly because I have not idea how Trina/Robbie works. Review/PM me if you hated it/loved it/have questions, etc.