Disclaimer: Victorious, much like a black belt in the ancient art of karate, does not belong to me.

Tori Vega.

When she first came to Hollywood Arts, I knew exactly two things about her. One, she could sing, and two; I didn't like her. And I was content knowing nothing then. But I know so much more now.

I know she can act. I know she's not as good as she seems. I know that she stinks at math. I know that she likes to wear vanilla scented perfume. I know that she likes it when you bite her lip. I know that her nails are sharp enough to leave a mark. I know that she shivers when you kiss her hips. And I know that her toes curl when she comes. I know a lot about her now.

It's hard to say when it really began. I'm not talking event-wise, no, that's pretty clear when that started. I'm talking all the bullshit feelings and ideas behind it. I don't know when they started. Not on her side, and not even on mine. But I guess they were there at some level, I just never looked too hard. It's easier to hide it with anger, to hide everything with bitterness. I mean, who did Tori think she was? Always fucking helping everyone with their problems, always wiggling out of every mess I put her into. Always being the nice guy, and never letting anything get her down. It was infuriating, but I couldn't let it go. Cat's just as nice, if not as smart, but I don't do the same shit to her. Andre's just as kind, but I don't give a shit about him. No, there's always been something about Tori, and at first, I could've said it was anger over Beck, jealousy. But she's made it clear to me, time and time again, that she isn't interested in him. I know she's not pining over him, and I know he's not stupid enough to fall for someone like Vega. So that one reason I had? It's gone, but I was still determined to make her life a living hell. To just bring her to her knees for once, and I couldn't be bothered looking behind my reasons why. It's a grey area; as to when the thoughts started. They're too well buried to dig up. But when it started? Event wise? When everything that was secretly simmering finally boiled over? Well, that's easy to tell.

/

"This is disgusting."

"Of course it is, it's vomit."

"Jade... don't remind me."

I scrubbed at the orange splash that ran down the wall of the janitor's closet. I figured Sinjin and his little friends would've been able to hold their lunch, instead of spreading it on the walls. They were only in here for an hour. But then, I had maybe given them some... special soup. It was some stupid plan to bring Tori's play down. She'd written this play, and I admit... it was good. Too good. So I figured if it got... misplaced, it'd be for the best. Tori would fail, and maybe then she'd show up to school with a frown, instead of that fucking persistent smile. I hadn't counted on everyone pitching in behind her, and helping her write another one. So I may have sabotaged her crew when it came time for the dress rehearsal, poisoned them, and locked them in the janitor's closet. No big deal.

Unfortunately, the janitor let them out, and I got caught, and saddled with cleaning the mess up. Although at least Tori got the blame too; it was her soup I poisoned. Her little thank you gift to everyone turned out to be a big 'fuck you'. Let's see if they'd help her now. Silver lining is; she still thinks it was her fault the soup made everyone sick. That's a small victory. It doesn't mean much as I scrub at a persistent runnel of vomit, my stomach turning. We work in silence for the most part, broken every now and then by a dry retch. It's not until we go the girl's bathroom to clean up, the halls dark and deserted, that Tori finally says something.

"What'd you put in the soup?"

I think for a moment I've misheard her over the sound of the running water, echoing around the tiled walls of the bathroom. I soap my hands for a moment.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

There's a distant thunk from the pipes as Tori turns the tap off in her sink, water cutting off. She turns to me, head hanging. "Why do you hate me?"

I inspect my fingernails under the shimmering water, eyebrows dug down. "Why do you think I hate you?" I twist my tap off, reaching for a ream of paper towel.

Tori almost snorts, palms turned out towards me. "What else am I supposed to think? I am nothing but nice to you, Jade. I told you, I don't want to steal Beck, I don't want to do anything to you. I just want you to like me, okay? I'm trying really hard to be your friend. Why do you keep trying to hurt me?"

I scrunch the dampened paper towel in my hand, tossing it in the trash. "Tori, if you knew I put stuff in the soup, why did you help clean up?" I turn to her then, a studded eyebrow raised. "That was fucking disgusting, in there." I point out the door. "Why didn't you just tell Lane it was me? Huh? Why do you keep fucking covering for me?"

A muscle in Tori's jaw twitches, and she wipes her hands brusquely on the front of her shirt. "Because you're my friend, Jade. That's what friends do. They help each other. They don't try to ruin each other's lives."

My hand curls into a fist, eyebrows digging down over my nose, and I take a step towards her. "Then stop being so fucking nice. Stop being so good. Just once, just once, be fucking human, Vega. Stop being so goddamn perfect." My finger's raised like a dagger, pointing towards her chest, and I just want to stab, and twist, until I see blood. Until I see that she's just like me.

She exhales hard through her nose, an incredulous look on her face. "You think I'm perfect? What, you think the stuff you do doesn't hurt me? It hurts, Jade. It hurts a lot, and I don't understand. Why do you do it? Why are you so mean to me?" Her head jerks forward, like she's trying to peer into my brain, see through my eyes and dig around for why I keep trying to ruin her. "Is it because of Beck? Is it because everyone likes me? Is it because your friends like me more than you?" I can see that perfect façade fracturing, anger running through the splintered cracks. And I realise that all my little plots did get to her. They did hurt her, as much as she pretended they didn't.

My teeth grit, and I take another step towards her, fire burning in my chest. I swear I'm almost seeing red. I just want to snap her. "Because... because..." I'm trying to force the words out, the reasons I have ready dissipating. It's like trying to throw up on an empty stomach; I'm getting nothing but bitter bile. "Because I..." I grit my teeth harder, Tori backing away until she hits the wall. Her face is still angry, eyebrows still arrowed over the bridge of her nose, but her eyes flick from side to side. She's scared, too. And I realise I don't know why. I don't know why I keep trying to hurt her. I reached into that pile of 'reasons', looking for something solid to jab in her face, but I'm left empty-handed. The muscles in my cheek are working like crazy, heart pounding in my chest, lungs on fire, and my retching finally brings something up. My hand finally grabs hold of something solid, buried deep, deep down in the pile. "It's because I fucking want you, okay?" It feels like my rib cage is splitting open, a rush of cold air chilling the exposed flesh, and nerves, and bones, and I take a broken breath, fingernails digging into the palms of my hand. "I fucking want you, and I hate it. I hate it."

Tori's eyes widen, and she reaches a hand to my shoulder. "Jade..."

I shove her back, her hand falling from my shoulder. My lungs feel raw and exposed, eyes crawling over her, and with every breath, my chest brushes hers. And she looks so... so fucking sympathetic. So fucking nice. A muscle in my cheek twitches, like a loosed wire, snapping free from my brain, and the hand that pushed her back is moving to her cheek. "I just want you out of my head." My lips crash into hers, Tori making a soft sound of protest, but her hands stay limp at her sides, she doesn't try to pull away. Her lips are so soft, so sweet, not like Beck's. So foreign, so, so soft. So yielding, and her skin is so warm under the palm of my hand, and that fire is my chest is raging, is melting everything in me and sending it to pool in the pit of my stomach.

Tori's panting when I pull away, her lips flushed, her eyes stunned. "I just want it to stop." It comes out almost as a whisper, and I realise that this is why. I hate the way she makes me feel, without even trying. Without even noticing. I hate how I can't bring her down. I hate how I can't be her. I hate myself for being me, for being this stupid, broken person that can't function. That can't make anyone's life better, only worse. I hate that I can't stop hating her.

Tori's tongue runs out over her lips as she takes a shallow breath, her eyes flicking over my face, like she's finally understanding, like she's finally seeing me for what I am. Her fingertips tickle under my chin, her head tilting forward until we're centimetres apart, her breath feathering my cheek. A smile tugs at the edges of her lips, but there's no humour in it. "I just want you to like me." She kisses me, and this kiss, this hard, almost brutal kiss isn't to make me like her, that's not what she meant. She's not doing this to make me like her. She's doing this because she wants me too. She wants me to want her, and it's fucked up, and confusing, but I find myself not caring as her tongue breaks into my mouth, tracing over my teeth. Our hands are cold, still damp, smelling of cheap liquid soap and cleaning products, and our clothes are spotted with filth, with wavering specks of bleach, but somehow, it doesn't matter. I shiver when she touches my waist, hand sliding up under my shirt, her fingers like ice. I feel like I should almost be steaming, sizzling under her touch, because I'm so hot, and she's so cold, but underneath her shirt, it's so warm. My lips attack her neck, and she throws her head back, gasping, her hands tightening on my breasts, and it makes my lips jerk back from the dampened skin of her throat, pant out a short breath before returning, nipping at that racing pulse that trembles under the thin skin.

I strip her shirt off, tossing the light blue top onto the damp floor of the bathroom, Tori hissing as her bare back presses against the dirty white tiles of the wall. She yanks mine off too, hands tangling in my hair as soon as it's off, pulling my face to her. Our kisses are rough, are cruel, are fuelled as much by anger as by lust. And to think I thought all my little schemes never bothered her, never frustrated her. Her fingers tug almost painfully at my hair, and I bite down on her lower lip, her nails digging into my scalp as she breaks free to gasp, a muffled curse in her voice.

A smile creeps across my face, nails skating over Tori's flat, tan stomach, muscles shivering under my fingertips, and Tori's eyes are wide as I stop at her belt, fingers dipping just under the waistband of her jeans. I think it must be the sweetest smile she's ever seen from me, and she opens her mouth as if to say something, a flicker of doubt on her face, as if she's finally realising that we're both half-naked in a school bathroom. Her teeth click shut, and she wets her lips, hands covering mine where they rest on her belt, and I wonder for a moment if she's going to push me away, if she's going to run away, and forget this ever happened. But then her fingers are fumbling with the catch to her belt, yanking it out of the loops of her jeans and dropping it to the floor.

Her fingers stutter on the button to her jeans, shaking as she drags the zipper down, revealing a triangle of her blue-striped boyshorts. She watches me carefully, her pupils huge in her coffee-coloured eyes, and it should be a sobering sight, to see Tori Vega stripped bare and vulnerable before me, her lips shaking with every short, unsteady breath she takes. The skin on her throat damp and dappled red from my lips. Her hands, limp at her sides, palms turned out helplessly. It should be a sobering sight, but it's not. It only frustrates me more, to see her so helpless. She never fights back, she just takes whatever shit I throw at her. It makes that anger, that rage that's mixed with this lust, just flare up again, and I brace my hand on the chilly tiles of the wall, right hand slipping under the waistband of her boyshorts, skin growing softer and hotter the further down I move, until she's searing me, hot and wet, and it's all too easy to just stroke two fingers along her, to hear the soft moan that escapes when I do, her head thrown back, locks of brunette hair striping her throat. I kiss along her jaw, tracing that hard ridge with my tongue as my fingers stroke harder, Tori's breath shuddering in her throat.

"J-jade...mmph-" Tori's voice cuts off as my fingers force themselves into her, her nails digging into my shoulderblades, hard enough to break the skin. I swear softly, letting out liquid breath into the crook of her shoulder, pumping my fingers harder until she's soaking my hand, until she's searing the bone with her heat. I angle my thumb to brush her clit on every stroke, her hips jerking away from the wall into me as I do. "F-fuck-" She whimpers, and I feel a little burst of pride that I forced that out of her.

"Say my name again, Tori." I hiss into her ear, panting. "Say it again."

"J-jade." Her voice slips out in broken pieces, dripping down her lips, and I kiss her almost tenderly, tasting my name on her lips.

I break the kiss with a soft sound, whispering against her lips. "Again."

"Jade." It's louder now, almost a plea, shaking and rattling out of her, and it makes my breath sob out, makes my chest heave and my ribs flex like something is trying to burst free, something hot and huge and raw that's trying to claw it's way out, that's ripping up my lungs and my heart in it's struggles. I twist my fingers inside her, Tori's moans getting louder, and she's hot and tight around me, and so soft, everything about her is so soft. Her hips buck into me, clashing with mine, and I force them back, press her back into the icy wall, her skin sticking to the tiles, my palm clammy where it braces me, planted beside her head. And there are words like she's trying to speak, and maybe they're stop, don't stop, harder, please, no, yes, god, and a million other fragments blended together, but they're lost in the pleasure that's building in her. The one I can almost taste, can almost feel the echo of. It's present in every jerk of her body, every breath that's ripped from her, every subtle tightening of her muscles, until finally it freezes her. Until she clenches around me, whimpering, her nails gripping tight into my back, hard enough to make me wince, and then she slowly unwinds, like a clockwork toy that's sprung apart.

We're both left panting, and I lean on her for a moment, our torsos pressed together, slick and hot, my mouth pressed to her collarbone, head bowed. But the moment passes, and I drag my hand out of her panties, pushing myself off the wall and crossing to the sink. I watch her in the mirror, hands finding their way to her jeans almost dreamily, clumsily doing them back up. She jumps as I twist the tap on, water roaring, pumping soap into the palm of my hand, and scrubbing every trace of her away. She picks up her shirt and belt, holding them at waist level as if they're unfamiliar objects. I turn the tap off, scooping my shirt up with wet hands and tugging it on, brushing my hair out from underneath the neck. Tori looks around like she's lost something, her eyes roaming until they click onto me, like I have all the answers she's searching for.

"Look. This never happened, okay? This can never happen, get it? What this was... it can never happen again. I don't..." I run a hand through my hair. "I don't like you." The words are bitter, crawling out of my mouth like some rotten ichor, turning my stomach. "Get it?"

Tori stares at me for a moment, her face solemn, until she finally nods slightly, licking her lips. I swallow hard. "Okay." She echoes my words. "This can never happen again."

I nod at her, swiping my damp hands on my shirt. I washed them clean, but I can still feel her, like a film on my hand, coating my fingers. My shoulder bumps hers on the way out, forcing her back a step. "Never again." I mutter, yanking the door open.

But it does happen again. And again. And every time is meant to be the last, is never meant to happen, should never happen again. It's 'never again', again and again.

A/N: Lest you think this is a horrible ending, let me assure you; it is. But it's the horrible ending to the chapter, not the whole story, so I suggest you wait with bated breath for the next part. Or, if you're not too handy with spelling, with baited breath, but I wouldn't recommend eating nightcrawlers and minnows unless you're a fish. In which case, you definitely shouldn't be using a laptop. That's just poor planning, right there. You're going to get electrocuted, and be delicious with lemon.

So please review, it's always lovely. Unless you are a fish, in which case, just sort of flop about and gasp for air. Well... not air, water, but you know.