A/N: Hey there lovelies(: This is my second Jori fic, in progress, while I'm doing another one at the same time so it might get a bit crazy. This idea came to me while me and my best friend were talking about moving in together after college and I just had to write it and transform it into this story. First person and present tense is more my forte which is why I believe this will be much better written than Burning Wings which is past tense and third person so if you wonder if it's the same person writing these two fics, I promise you it's me. This is very AU, using only the character's names but whole different backgrounds. It's going to be a very emotional story so be ready for that. I promise it will get light hearted soon but you gotta wade through the anguish to get to the happiness. Reviews are greatly appreciated because they help me understand what you guys think and what I can improve on so please review. I adore you all if you're reading this but the real story lies below so get down there and get lost. Review(:

The wind is bitingly cold, unusual for L.A. Accustomed to the warm beaches of Florida I had played in while growing up, the unfamiliar harshness of the breeze chills me to the bone. I had figured Cali would be a close climate to home but I had forgotten about the sudden cold spells that could settle in. Somehow, I manage to settle into my black Civic without freezing to death, my fingers frantically pushing the dial to the red streak. Warm air blasts through the vents, choking the air with its heaviness but unthawing my fingers in the process. When I settle comfortably onto the black leather, I close my eyes as my body feels warm for the first time in hours. A sigh escapes my lips as I sit contently in the familiar stifling heat. My thoughts drift off into blankness, a habit I had picked up from school. I smile as I remember Professor Lane explaining the different techniques of stress relief, things that could help our clients open up or just to calm them down. He had advised that we follow them as well whenever we needed to take a breath and put life on hold for a second. The blankness of the mind always worked on me and I tended to use it a lot these days. Enjoying the atmosphere for as long as I could, with a lighter heart I open my eyes. It was time to get home.

I turn the dial down to normal and allow the temperature in the car to regulate to a cooler air. Jamming the jingling keys into their slot, I listen as the car purrs to life. I pull out of the parking lot as my thoughts wander away to the most unexpected places. Flashes of my day fly by mixed in with random cravings and wants conflicting with worries and tensions which in turn were soothed by the soft touch of happy memories which in case were drowned by heavy memories loaded with despair. With the whirling tornado swirling uncontrollably in my mind, I come to a stop at the light and glance up. The red rays laugh at me, taunting me with their glare. I look to my right only to have my gaze fall upon a teenage boy in the front seat. His stance is one of a confident douchebag, me having plenty of experience in recognizing the type. His blonde hair glints in the lights of the streetlamps as he turns to see my chocolate brown eyes resting on his figure. He gives me a cheeky smile, even going as far as winking at me as if I would suddenly fall at his toes. Rolling my eyes, I turn back to the lamps above me only to watch the anticipated light turn from red to green. The pedal beneath me melts away at the lightest touch and I accelerate forward.

L.A. really is a beautiful city especially at night. The beach is lit up with pier carnivals and bodies of people running through the darkness, sand slipping between their toes. The boardwalk is illuminated by the soft shadows of light that keep the ever present night at bay while the stars twinkle quietly above them. Shops and restaurants are buzzing with activity, families enjoying a night in the cool temperatures. Many of them sport gloves and coats to keep the cold out of their souls while enjoying the time they've been given anyway. There are still moments where I wish I could join them in their laughter while they live life the way I've always wanted to. Cat calls me out for Girl's nights occasionally but it's never the same. We go to cute restaurants and partake in fun activities, but things have changed. After what happened, she's never been able to pull me out of this, out of the effects of what he did. She missed the old Tori Vega, the one who was smiles and giggles, always ready to help out her friends. The old Tori Vega who used to sing. I knew I had hurt her when I pulled away, when I stopped singing, when I had distanced myself from the world. But it was the only thing I ever knew to do. She tried to get me to sing sometimes, hinting at it from different angles but eventually she gave up. She didn't know what to do with me, and I didn't blame her. I wouldn't know what to do either if our positions had been switched. Though I had to thank Cat. She was the only one who had stayed after I had drifted off into my universe of only me. Andre, Robbie, Trina, my parents, they all walked away. They got tired of pushing. They got tired of my walls, of my barriers, of my silence. Andre had tried the hardest, eventually giving up after I stood him up, yet again for a night out even though I didn't have work. Trina called occasionally, once every month while my mother's voicemails turned into twice day, to once a day, to once a week, to once every two weeks, and now once every two months. I never picked up her calls anymore and let her worries go to the answering machine. The only reason Cat was able to contact me was because she had the key to my apartment and wasn't afraid to barge in with her giggles and happiness, ready to force me to go walk the town with her.

"Come on Tori! Let's go have some fun! There's a new restaurant on Jenson Boulevard called Jeffery's I think you'll like it!"

"Come on Tori, they opened a cupcake factory on the other side of town, we have to go check it out!"

"Come on Tori, I have tickets to your favorite band, they're playing at the Arena on Sunset, come on get ready!"

Always the bubble of sunshine, something I used to be. She never gave up, no matter how many times I'd refuse her. Eventually, I stopped saying no and let her drag me places against my own will, forcing a smile to live on my face for the duration of the time we spent together. But she was always there, and I was thankful for her presence more times than I could count. In fact, after what happened, Cat was the first one to make me talk. She never asked any questions as if she knew that I would shatter to pieces at the slightest touch, which I would have. She was at the hospital every day talking excitedly about nothing and everything while I'd sit there and watch her with blank eyes. I remembered Andre and Robbie coming in at the beginning, trying desperately to make me laugh, to make me smile, anything at all. But as I refused to respond, their visits became shorter and shorter until they stopped coming. My parents flew in from Orlando, my mother sobbing next to me as I sat quietly, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. Trina had taken my hand, saying something that I hadn't registered. After two weeks, it was Cat who sat next to me, quiet as she awaited my arrival from the world of dreams. And when I had finally thrashed wildly, screaming for help, for someone to save me, just save me, it was Cat who shook me awake, who held me in her arms as I cried. She had sat there, rubbing my back, letting me cry into her hair. She had said nothing, only murmuring words of comfort in my ear. No questions were asked. And when I had calmed down and my heart rate resumed a healthy pace, I had looked at her with a tear streaked countenance and whispered my first sentence in two weeks.

"Thank you."

I had told no one what had happened. I'm sure they all had guessed or suspected it but I answered no one if they asked me to my face. The doctors had figured it out easily, but at my request they kept the information to themselves. I was above 18, it was up to me. I proved them that I was mentally stable, telling them everything they wanted to hear, paid my bills, and checked out as soon as possible. And when I walked out of that hospital, I put up walls made of solid bricks with layers and layers encasing my soul. I slowly eased out of everybody's lives, only Cat knowing I had checked out that day and volunteering to drive me home. The car ride was filled with one sided chatter, never a real silent moment with Cat. Again, I noticed she asked no questions and expected no answers. She rambled on about nothing at all while I sat there wondering what the hell I did wrong as the tears started streaming down my face. I knew she saw me, sitting in her passenger seat silently crying. I saw her keep the question to herself and she only pulled into a parking lot, stopped the car, crawled over to my seat and held me while I cried. She didn't say a word, only pulling my body closer to hers and wrapped her arms around my torso while my warm tears met her neck. After my tears had subsided, with still no other sound from me, she had climbed back into the driver's seat, started the car, and proceeded to drop me home. When we had finally parked in front of my apartment building, she had taken a deep breath and finally asked a question for the first time since what happened.

"Do you want me to stay the night?" Her voice had been soft, warm but it wasn't what I needed. I slowly shook my head, surprising her with my actual response to her question.

"Call me if you need anything okay?" With a nod, I had pushed myself off the warm seat and made my way into the dark structure that housed my shelter. I remember walking up the stairs with a heavy tread, my eyes locked on each step that entered my line of vision. My feet had felt heavy and there had been a burning in my lungs I refused to feel. I remember walking up to my front door, the cherry oak of the door emanating a warmth I could sense as if my home was trying to let me know it would support me, it would carry me through this, it would help me stand. I had stuffed my key in the lock, opening the door to walk into my home for the last two years. I remember setting my bag and the keys on the kitchen counter, glancing over the red flashing answering messages filled with words of people that were heavy with pity and concern, and walking over to my bedroom. I remember burying my face into my pillow, deciding then and there, to shut them all out. To refuse to let anyone in at all, to keep them all at arm's length.

And the next morning I continued on to work like nothing happened.

Like I had never been broken in the first place.