A/N: Barely counts as M-rated, but I just wanted to be careful. A Beck and Tori spin on Childish Gambino's Heartbeat. My first attempt at anything like this, so please give me feedback in reviews! Very OOC Beck and Tori.

Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious or "Heartbeat" by Childish Gambino.

I wanted you to know that I am ready to go.
Heartbeat, my heartbeat.
I wanted you to know whenever you are around, I can't speak.

She was the girl who made my heart accelerate past its speed limit every day since I was sixteen. She was the only girl who made my words get caught in my throat. She made my knees weak, my palms sweaty. She could melt my whole heart with just a smile. She was the girl I wanted to marry. She was who I'd do anything for. But she wasn't mine. At least, not anymore.

I know what your boy like.
Skinny tie and a cuff type.
He go and make breakfast.
You walk around naked.

As a matter of fact, the girl who held my heart between her perfectly-manicured fingertips was with someone else. Someone else cherishing her beautiful body as opposed to her beautiful mind. Deep down, I knew he was far better suited for her than I was- more responsible, more ambitious, and the perfect boy to introduce to your parents. But that didn't change the fact that I'd been in love since I met her. That also didn't change the fact that he was some preppy bastard who used her for a good grade in high school. But forgive and forget- she forgave him and forgot me.

I might just text you.
Turn your phone over,
When it's all over, no settling down.
My texts go to your screen, you know better than that.

Still, none of this stopped me. I knew she wasn't happy. If she was, she wouldn't be texting me when he wasn't around. She wouldn't be calling me every night before going to sleep. She sure as hell wouldn't be with me every time she got a chance to get away from him. He hadn't even been paying enough attention to her to notice her behavior. Tori was a good actress and all, but she couldn't lie if it meant saving her life. Bottom line was, he didn't deserve her; I did.

I come around when you least expect me.
I'm sitting at the bar when your glass is empty.
You thinking that this song's coming on to tempt me.
I need to be alone like the way you left me.

I deserved her, but she didn't deserve me. (But when I'm honest with myself, I know I didn't deserve her, either. I deserved better.) Whatever she wanted, I would've given her. I was always there whenever she needed me, whether she knew it or not and without asking. She had me on my knees, begging her to stay. I would've done anything for her, but I was old news and she was on to bigger and better things. She left me like a kicked puppy and I isolated myself, only hoping I'd recover. Maybe that was my problem. I was too nice, too available for her.

You start calling, you start crying.
I come over, I'm inside you.
I can't find you,
The girl that I once had.
But the sex that he have isn't half bad.

And she knows this. She knows she did me wrong. I'm sure the guilt is partially what's keeping her from finding closure from us. She knows she needs me just as much as I need her. She knows I can take care of her better than anyone. She knows I'm the only one that can calm her down and keep her mind off her reality. She knows I can treat her better than he does. That's what keeps her coming back.

That, and the sex.

That's why my name is always in the back of her throat. When she's calling me, voice cracking, begging me to see her. When her face is buried in my chest and I'm comforting her as her sobs rack through her body. When she's mumbling against my hair, pulling me closer, as I devour her neck. When she's beneath me, a devil's grin playing on her lips, eyes shut, pulling at the sheets that lay under us. When she's holding onto me afterwards, smiling as she gives into sleep, followed by an "I love you" so soft that I can barely hear her. Every time, it's my name that leaves her lips, not his.

Still, it's not the same. She's different, we can both feel it, and I hate that he is having this effect on her. I hate that he is ruining my perfect, flawless Tori and turning her into someone I can only recognize if I look hard enough. And as she's sleeping in my arms in the bed she's shared with him, all I think about is how stupid I was to ever let her go.

The texts say that "It's not fair."
That's code for "He's not there."
And I'mma flirt with this new girl.
And I'mma call if don't work.

Sometimes she goes on these two-week stunts when her morals kick in and she's telling me what we're doing is wrong. She goes back to him "for good," keeping him close so as to not be tempted by me. Each time, I know this temporary. I know she'll be calling me again, feeling neglected and ignored, as soon as Ryder leaves for his next "business trip." So I spend this time playing the field in an effort to find a spark with someone, anyone else. I hardly ever sleep alone during these times but it still doesn't distract me from the fact that my girl is somewhere with that fucker under her, looking for something he'll never be able to give her.

So we fuck till we come to conclusions,
All the things that we thought we were losing.
I'm a ghost and you know this,
That's why we broke up in the first place.

By the time he gets on his plane, she's halfway to my apartment. It's only 9 but she knows I'm asleep already. She brings her fist to knock on the door hesitantly before I crawl out of bed and drag myself to the door. She charges for me, catching me off guard and consequently throwing off my equilibrium. I'm holding on to the door frame as she tightens her hold on my torso, clutching the back of my t-shirt. I kiss the top of her head so as to calm her and it seems to do the trick.

I walk her into my apartment and let go of her momentarily to close the door. Before I even take my hand off the knob, she turns my around and presses me to the door, claiming my lips with her own with the ferocity that reminds me of why I love her. My hands are on her hips and she's pulling the front of my shirt, leading me to the bedroom she knows just as well as her own. I know it's wrong but I couldn't deny her if I tried. I fall on top of her as we crash onto my bed. A slip of the tongue draws a gasp from Tori's lips, compelling me to go even further, harder, and faster.

Our bodies part to lift the t-shirt over my head and I withdraw a hand from her hip to begin unbuttoning her shirt. I perform this action with such an agonizing slowness and I love the way it's killing her. A low growl forms at her throat as her frustration with me finally reaches it limit and she flips us over, legs on either side of my hips. She draws her arms from her sleeves and plants a hand on either side of my head. My hands travel from her hips up the curve of her torso and back down again, feeling the familiar smooth skin beneath my fingertips. I find the edge of her leggings, running a finger along the border before peeling them off.

She pulls away and looks at me. Our eyes are open for the first time since I let her in. She sat only in her black undergarments that were so small but accentuated so much. Her lips are parted as she catches her breath, chest heaving. Her hair is a tangled frame of curls. Her face is pale and seems devoid of blood flow in all places but her cheeks, which glow a warm red tint. She is a mess and I love her and she could not be more beautiful than she already is. I reach up and hold the back of her neck, bringing her closer before leaning in to press a soft kiss on her lips. I traced a path from her lips to her neck to her chest, prompting her to snap her eyes shut and chew at her lip.

I fiddle with the clasp behind her, deftly snapping it open before helping it off her. Flipping us over, I teased, prodded, and pinched before going to work, using my tongue to swirl around her chest. She giggled, intertwining her fingers with my hair. I dropped a finger between her legs, my index finger slowly tracing over the wet area. She pressed her hips to me, desperate for more friction. I moved to find her clit, moving my finger while applying more pressure, eliciting a moan to escape her. I rubbed her slowly at first before quickening my speed, stroking her faster and harder. I began my descent, kissing my way down her stomach. I reached the edge of her underwear and took hold of it between my teeth. She grinned before letting her head fall onto the pillow. I alternated between each thigh, placing gentle kisses on each before diving in to her center.

My hands found her hips, adding a little pressure so as to hold her down. I pursed my lips, only millimeters from her, and exhaled lightly. She squirmed, her legs tightening around me. I grinned before letting my tongue peek out from between my lips, lightly grazing her. I heard her whine above me, knowing she was getting as impatient as I was. Finally, I dragged my tongue from the bottom up. Tori gasped sharply, followed by the softest of moans. I traced a zig zag pattern, pinballing down her slit; left, right, left, right. Her breathing became more ragged and she pulled at my hair. I hummed into her center and sent her over the edge. Her light moans turned into a my name scattered between a mix of profanity, and her grasp on my hair tightened. Her back arched off the bed as she raised her hips.

I crawled up her body, licking my lips, and closing the gap to meet her soft ones. She clawed at my boxers before pulling them down herself. She rolled her hips in an intricate movement, her center gently grazing my length. The contact forced a sharp intake of breath on my end. I wanted her. I opened my eyes to see that devilish smile on her face before wiping it away with my lips, tongue teasing hers in a battle of dominance. I lined myself up before delving in, acknowledging neither one of us were patient enough for a slow start. She pressed herself closer to me, raising her hips to meet mine. We breathed each other's names before both reaching our end points.

I collapsed on her before rolling over to lay beside her, panting and struggling to find composure. She grabbed my discarded shirt from the headboard and pulled it over her head. She came closer to me and laid her head on my chest, throwing an arm around my waist. She craned her neck and kissed me. It wasn't a heated kiss full of lust but a passionate one. Not one that said "I want to fuck you so bad" but "I love you and I know of no better way to tell you but by doing this." We gave each other one last peck before pulling away, settling my head on the pillow and settling hers on my chest.

"I love you, Tori Vega," I whispered, pressing my lips to her forehead and stroking her hair. "More than anything on this godforsaken planet."

"I love you too," she replied and cuddled further into my chest, fitting perfectly into my side.

"We could do it, you know."

"I thought we just did," she said sarcastically.

"You know what I mean," I said, "We could try again. I swear to God, if you gave me that chance... I wouldn't fuck it up again. All I want to do is make you happy, Vic." I rubbed my eyes as they struggled to stay open.

She nodded. "You do make me happy, Beck. You have no idea."

I leaned my head on hers and held her in my arms. Before giving into sleep completely, I muttered one last thing.

"I never stopped loving you. And I don't think I could ever love someone else the way I love you."

It's late night Thursday.
I know that you heard me.
But you don't want the same thing.
Well two can play that game.

And so we fall back into the cycle. After my post-sex confession, she stays away from me for a least a month, a personal record for her. I, however, spend quality time alternating between the bottom of the bottle and my living room couch, taking the rejection harder. I couldn't even step foot in my bedroom; the memories were too fresh and her scent still lingered on my sheets. I begin a new pattern during this time. Wake up at two, drink all day, pour my feelings in a text to her, and promptly proceed to delete it before my drunk ass makes the mistake of sending it.

Drink. How could you give up on me? Delete.
Drink. You have no idea how fucking jealous I get when I see you with him. Delete.
Drink. I wish you would stop pretending that I didn't try. Delete.
Drink. You can't just fuck me whenever you want and go back to your fucking Hollister model when you feel guilty. Delete.
Drink. I miss how you kiss me after sex. Delete.
Drink. Why can't you just give me another chance?. Delete.
Drink. I don't know who I am without you, Tori. Delete.
Drink. Deny it all you want, but I saw you smile in your sleep every time we did it. Delete.
Drink. You know he's doing the same thing we're doing with some cheap Hollywood whore. Delete.
Drink. I love how you look when you crinkle your nose. Delete.
Drink. I can't listen to the radio without thinking about you. Delete.
Drink. I can't do anything without thinking about you. Delete.

So I'm chilling with my girlfriend.
But she's not my real girlfriend.
She got a key to my place but,
She not my real girlfriend.

A week after, I'm with Jade. She's been chasing after me since high school and I can't find it in me to reject her one more time. Why not finally give her what she wants? That, and I know Tori has always hated her and I know seeing me with Jade will piss her off. Jade spends every day in my apartment. She introduces herself as and tells everyone she's my girlfriend, but I never even asked her. She even changes my relationship status online but I don't say anything because at least Tori will see it. She won't shut up about how I haven't introduced her to my parents and raids my texts as if I'm hiding something from her. But it doesn't matter because Tori hasn't spoken to me since that night. She didn't even say goodbye, she left while I was asleep.

When she's not around, she keeps my phone active with her constant and incessant text messages asking where I am, who I'm with. I hate it but it's better than being alone with my thoughts. When we fuck, she says my name but it doesn't sound as sweet when it's not coming from Tori's lips. I hate it but it's better than being holed up in my bathroom, eyes shut, hand moving, thinking about Tori on top of me. When she tells me she loves me, I say it back but I don't mean it, not even a little bit. I hate it but I know if I didn't, she'd just leave too.

So we're done? Is this the real shit?
We used to hold hands like field trips.
I'm a jerk but your dude is a real dick.
I read his posts on your wall and I feel sick.

A month passes, and we still haven't spoken. I finally leave my apartment for something other than work and end up at a cafe I found in junior year. I sit at a table translating my thoughts on a napkin, trying to find words for my final goodbye. Instead, I find myself leafing through the bookshelves in the back of the cafe, picking a book about Marilyn Monroe that you chose every time we came in for a latte. It sits on the table as I try to write again, her eyes staring intently up at me on the cover. You always praised her for her mysterious allure. I figure it really did a number on you because a few months after, you left and became a mystery all on your own.

I think of our days at Hollywood Arts. Running around the city late at night, holding onto each other as if we'd lose each other if we ever let go. The bell on the door rings as I write, failing at catching my attention. In the midst of scribbles and words with strikes through them, I meant everything I said to you that night survives as the only legible thing on the crowded napkin. I hear your voice and I convince myself it's my mind playing tricks on me. I hear it again and my eyes leave the paper, scanning the room. I catch a glimpse of brown hair and my body seems to sink into its seat. You stand at the register, looking over the menu with him at your side. I feel a burning sensation in my chest and my throat seems to contract. I hear your voice again as he speaks to you.

"Where'd you find this place anyway? Seems like a dump." It's actually a really nice cafe. 4 stars in the travel guide.

"I found it in high school. Senior year, maybe?" It was junior year.

He scoffs under his breath. "Senior year. Back when you used to run around with that Oliver kid. You ever end up seeing him after graduation?" We dated for three more years after graduation.

"Not once." We fucked in your bed, Ryder. Twice. And it was amazing.

I keep my eyes down as I listen. You take a seat near the window. I take this opportunity to leave before you can see me. (But we both know much I wanted you to see me.) But before I make my exit, I slip the napkin between the book cover and the first page before returning it to the bookshelf. Hood up and my classic denim jacket on, I went by your table undetected. I even passed by the window you were sitting next to. The rest of the day, I wondered if you noticed me walking past. I wondered if you recognized my hair, my boots, or my jacket. I wondered if you spotted the keychain you gave me hanging out of my pocket, or my rusty car keys. And I never stopped wondering.

A month after, Jade drags me to Cat's birthday party at some club in West Hollywood that Cat had rented out for the night. No part of me wanted to see you again but I knew Jade would never let me hear the end of it. You always thought I looked nice in a suit anyhow. Before we leave my apartment, I scan Cat's Facebook invite page and hover across your name before clicking on it. I've made a solid effort to avoid your page since we broke up. I browse through your pictures and find Ryder's comments on each one. That's all mine or Babe, you're so sexy or Can't wait till I get home from New York ;). Just reading them made me feel nauseous.

We go there. The Wicked Witch of the West is on my arm. Her black dress is so tight that you'd think her skin and the fabric had separation anxiety issues. She probably wore it for me, thinking it would make me want to fuck her and somehow, in her head, that would translate to love. We sit in a booth, Jade loading up on Ciroc and me itching to go home, lose the tie and cuff links, and go to bed. There are too many people, I don't enjoy her company, and I'm still a little drunk from loading up after finding a pair of Tori's earrings in my medicine cabinet. Then, I see them walk in together. Her dress is mid-thigh length, lacy, and probably could double as a corset for a midget because it's that tight and it's that small. Her hair falls in effortless waves down the length of her back and her fingers are laced with his. Ryder strolls in without a tie around his neck, probably thinking he looks fashionable but really he looks like a '70s Ken doll.

I readjust myself in my seat, looking for anything to distract me. All I could think about in that moment was how much I wanted to see that dress on my floor and those heels crossed around my back. I shut my eyes tight and excused myself from Jade's presence. I grabbed a glass of scotch at the bar before heading out the back door. The breeze hit me like a slap in the face as I took a seat on the curb, the scotch burning everything in its path as it flowed down my throat. I reach into my pocket to take out a cigarette and hold it to my lighter before a pair of slender fingers reach down and take it. My eyes travel upwards.

"Victoria."

Her plump red lips meet the cigarette before she inhales the poison. "Beck," she says before stepping onto the curb, long legs lingering, and propping herself up to lean on the wall of the club.

"Fancy seeing you here."

"You too. You've managed to stay under the radar lately. I just didn't expect to see you here with Wednesday Addams over there."

I snort and shake my head, taking another swig from my glass before standing up. I loosen the tie around my neck slightly and inch over to her. Her outlined eyes look up to my own, her lips curving into a smirk. Without breaking eye contact, I reach up to take the cigarette from her hands to put it to my own lips. I inhale, taking in as much as possible before turning my head and exhaling, the smoke creating a fog around us.

"What do you want, Vic?" I lean my head down and our noses are touching. Her hands find my hair, her long fingers and sharp nails raking through it, her alcohol-laced breath grazing my skin, and her body pressing closer and closer. She bites her own lip before claiming both of my mine in a delicate kiss. It's been so long that I wouldn't control myself if I could; my hand moves to draw her hips to mine, rediscovering her beautiful assets in the process. She pulls away minutes later and by then, the hem of her skirt has moved at least two inches north, her lips are nearly swollen, and she is sandwiched between me and the wall.

"Did that answer your question?" her long lashes graze her face as she looks up at me innocently. "If not, I'd be happy to explain it again."

"I'd be happy to oblige," I said, still catching my breath.

"I'll come by. Tonight, maybe, if I can get away from him."

"You know where I live."

Fuck this.
Are we dating?
Are we fucking?
Are we best friends?
Are we something, in between that?
I wished we never fucked and I mean that.

She gives me one last kiss before turning on her heel and strutting back into the club, winking over her shoulder before shutting the door.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into.

But not really.
You say the nastiest shit in bed and it's fucking awesome.