Disclaimer: Victorious, much like a monkey butler, does not belong to me.
Robbie asked if he could tell you a secret, but he didn't say it in words.
It was a breath, soft and slow, a brush of lips. A secret breathed into your skin that made your heart want to leap out, but it rattled against your ribcage and stayed in your chest, shaking. Your mind's a blank, and all you can think is lips, and then they're gone, a soft sound ringing up to your ears as he parts from you.
You can see it in his eyes. You've become so familiar with the deep, deep brown, but now mixed in them is a tenderness, a sweetness. A question. And you're not sure of the answer because… because everything is so complicated and you don't even know why it's so complicated because it was so easy before when you thought you knew what you wanted and you can feel him staring at you and you just need to get away.
Your body moves on its own, jumping, running, pedaling your bike, and you think your heart is trying to run away, too, because you've never felt it beat this hard, this fast. Soon, you're home. You're safe. You weren't safe before, back there, with him, and you wonder why, why weren't you safe? He was safe before, and it was just a kiss, you've kissed plenty of guys! But then you feel it. His secret has sunken into your skin and now it's pumping through your veins. It makes you feel like your eyes are too wide, your shoulders are pulled back too tight, and you run up to your room, slamming the door shut before you perch on the edge of your bed.
You press your palms to your temples, trying to unmuddle the muddled thoughts, but it seems like everything running through your mind is Robbie, Robbie, Robbie, and you think you're going crazy because every feeling you've ever felt has turned into colors and they're starting to pool and swirl inside you until you feel vibrant and tie-dye and exposed.
But you can't help but think how it made you feel. It made you feel funny, like you were Cat but Not Cat, but how is that possible? You really like being Cat, and if Robbie makes you feel Not Cat, isn't that a bad thing? But at the same time, he was Robbie but Not Robbie, because Robbie didn't make you feel like this. Robbie didn't make your nerves prickle and your heart pound, didn't make you shiver and melt at the same time. Those types of things aren't supposed to happen, you've never felt that before, and you're feeling very Not Cat. And that scares you.
He didn't say it in words, and you think that's the worst part. Words can be turned and twisted, made meaningless or lost in conversation. Misinterpreted. But what he did was a battle cry straight to your soul, and you can't ignore it, but you have to try.
You think that's a good idea, to ignore it. It's not the most mature thing to do, but then again, your room is littered with stuffed animals and pictures of bunnies hanging on the walls. You know you're not mature, and you're okay with that, and maybe if you act like it didn't happen, then Robbie will forget, and nothing will have to change.
You feel relieved, now that you know what to do. You hate it when you feel lost, and you feel lost a lot. But this time it's different somehow, because usually it's just your head that doesn't understand, but right now it's all these different parts inside you that are whirling in confusion and you don't know how to fix it but maybe, just maybe, it'll go away and you won't have to deal with it anymore.
You stand, changing into your pajamas, and get ready for bed. After you slip under the covers, you absentmindedly lick your lips and remember what happened, Robbie's face slowly fading into your mind before it shuts down, drifting into darkness, into sleep.
Day after day, you pretend. You're an actress, so when you go to school you play the role of Normal Cat: smiling and giggling, telling whatever stories pop into your head. Even when you see Robbie and you feel every color and not safe, you skip up to him and smile with a "hi"! Because you are Normal Cat, and that's what Normal Cat would do. You try to ignore the swirly jittery feeling that makes you want to run and hide from him, but you can still feel his secret inside you. It presses against your lungs and makes it a little harder to breathe, makes your heart pound, and if you ignore it maybe it'll go away. Maybe, if you pretend hard enough, you can be Normal Cat again without trying. You just have to pretend harder.
Having his secret pressed into your lips is hard to ignore, though. Sometimes you find yourself touching your lips and thinking of his, the way they whispered their wordless secret into you. It makes your nerves tingle all the way to the tips of your fingers and down to your toes, but with it comes that not safe feeling that makes you want to run and hide.
You're in English class when it happens again, and Robbie's here, too. You turn to the other side of the room, and you can't help but stare at him. His curly hair, the way his glasses sit on his face, and… his lips. You can feel that tingly feeling, but there's something else this time. A thought flashes through your mind, and you're just quick enough to catch it as it passes, and it… it startles you. You feel like your face is blazing, and you're sure your cheeks are as bright as your hair and you stand, mumbling something about the bathroom, and rush out of class, feeling everyone's eyes on your back as you run out to the hallway.
You can't control the odd clenching in your chest, and you burst through the door to the bathroom, then study yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks are flushed, and you wonder why you can't see it, why anyone else can't see it. He's there. He's always been there. You feel like Robbie's name should be written all over your skin, the way he creeps though your veins, pumping though your heart. It's just that only recently he's been on your mind, brought to the surface because his secret had lettered your lips, the words all jumbled and mashed up before you could finally sort them out and decipher what they meant to you. His secret had etched its way onto your heart, and you think you know the answer now. The answer to the question his eyes were asking.
You take a deep breath, bracing yourself against the sink and closing your eyes. You… you like Robbie. But this is something deeper, something that you can feel so strongly it hurts. It's new and it's scary; nobody's ever made you feel this way before, and you can't deal with all this emotion that's pulsing through you. You start to feel every color again, but it all fades until your heart is painted a deep red, and you know what this is. This is… t-this is…
The bell chimes, making you jump, and you realize you've been gripping the sink too hard, wiggling the sore fingers in front of your eyes, and you wonder how long you've been standing here for. English was your last class for the day, which is a relief, now you can go home and think some more. Think about what to do now, now that you know why Robbie makes you scared, makes your heart beat the way it does. All you have to do is get your backpack and bike back home. Just be Normal Cat for a few more minutes. Easy.
You exit the bathroom, walking back through the hallways to class and you freeze. Robbie's standing outside the classroom holding your backpack. N-no. You're not ready for this! You just… he just…
Robbie waves and walks up to you, and you manage a smile and a "hi" back. You take your backpack, slipping it over your shoulders and he walks with you to the bike racks, explaining what you'd missed after escaping the classroom, but you can't focus. He's holding your hand. You always hold hands, it's nothing new, just Cat and Robbie holding hands, but you're so conscious of it now that your secret matches his.
As you reach the bikes, he says goodbye and your fingers unlock, and he's about to walk away.
"Robbie?" Your voice comes out low, comes out soft, and you're not even sure if he could hear you. But he does.
He turns, and you can see it in his eyes again. That sweetness, that tenderness. "Yeah, Cat?"
"I… I don't know what to do."
"About the homework?" He steps back towards you, concern threaded through his voice.
"No, it's about…"
His secret without words.
"It's about…"
Your secret without words.
You need to tell him, to spill the words that you can't seem to find, that are buzzing under your skin and dancing on your tongue, but can't seem to push themselves out. You need to try harder, to try to make him understand. Your body moves on its own again, but this time it's not your legs running away, but your hand that crawls up to his cheek, and you can feel his skin, soft and warm against your palm. You feel your feet shuffle forward, your body leaning, and then it's lips.
The words you couldn't find are caught in your throat, but you think he can hear them from here. You don't know how to say it, how to tell him, because he didn't use words and now you think you know why. Maybe you don't have to use words either. But maybe you were so confused you accidentally made it all complicated, when really the words were so simple all along. His secret and your secret, made from the smallest of words that your hearts seem to beat out for each other.
I love you.
A/N: So... this was my first time writing something in the second person, but I really wanted to try it. I think it turned out all right, I hope you think so, too!
I'm a terrible person for not updating my other stories, I KNOW. If anyone is willing to support me financially and work on my papers and projects for school, lemme know so I can have more time to do FanFics here, cuz I miss it. Terribly. I miss it like a trash can when I try to toss in some crumpled up papers (I have horrendous aim).
And while you're down here reading my ramblings, do you have an outlet? Because I've got a plug for KnowMyNameNotMyStory's "Victorious: The Final Season"! I did a collab with her for the chapter titled "The Vega Switch", so y'all should check it out along with all the other chapters, because it's fun and good and all that jazz! And read her other work, too, cuz she's a spiffy gal and a truly talented writer.
Don't forget to review, you dashingly good-looking reader, you.