Chapter Text
Victoria Chase believed in appearances.
Lipstick flawless, heels sharp, smile sharper — you keep the mask on and nobody can touch you. That was how she survived Blackwell.
But Nathan Prescott had a goddamn talent for ripping masks apart.
She found him pacing the far end of the parking lot, hood up, movements jerky, restless like he’d put a fist through his own car if nobody stopped him. The glow from the lamppost cut sharp lines across his face, and for once he didn’t look like a Prescott — he just looked like a kid about to come undone.
Victoria should’ve walked past. Should’ve gone back to her dorm, taken off her heels, and let him self-destruct alone. But instead, her mouth opened and ruined it.
“You’re gonna fucking wear a hole in the pavement,” she said, arms folded tight across her chest.
Nathan whipped around, eyes blazing. “What the fuck do you want, Chase?”
“Excuse me?”
"I didn't ask for company," he snapped, voice too loud, too rough. "So if you're here to make fun of me, fuck off."
Victoria arched a perfect brow, refusing to flinch. "Wow. Real charming. You always greet your friends like this, or am I just special?"
"Don't call it that."
"Friends?"
He glared. "Special."
Victoria smirked, ignoring the twist in her chest, "You're seriously losing it, Prescott. Pacing the parking lot at midnight like some edgy Batman reject. It's pathetic."
"Fuck you." He shoved both hands into his jacket's pockets, trying to contain his anger as he leaned on his car. "Like you don't live for this shit. Acting like you're too good to care, but here you are."
"Maybe I was just trying to be decent for once." Her tone sharpened. "My mistake."
Nathan let out a harsh laugh. "Decent? Don't make me fucking laugh, Vic. You wouldn't know decent if it—"
"Careful," she cut in, eyes glaring. "Finish that sentence and I'll ruin you."
He scoffed. "What, with a hashtag? A Facebook post?"
Victoria's smirk twisted, brittle. "At least I know how to control my image. Better than melting down in public every other day like a psycho."
The word landed like a slap. Nathan froze, jaw twitching before looking away as he tries to compose himself. As if he could.
"Wow," he said after a long beat, voice low and venomous. "Psycho. Real fucking creative. Bet you feel clever as hell."
Victoria's stomach knotted. She hadn't meant it like that. Not really. But her pride wouldn't let her back down. "You think I'm scared of you blowing up?" she snapped. "News flash: I'm not." I'm sick of covering your ass while you drag everyone else down with you."
His eyes went wide, then narrowed to slits. "There it is. Queen Victoria. Always cleaning up my mess, just so you can feel better than me."
"That's not what I—"
"Bullshit." He stepped closer, his anger vibrating in the air. "You get off on this. Playing savior, acting like you care. But you don't. Not about me. Not about anyone. Just yourself."
The words cut sharper than she expected. Her throat burned, but she forced out a dry laugh. "You've got some fucking nerve. At least I try. Atleast I keep it together instead of walking around like a goddamn ticking time bomb."
Nathan's face twisted, raw. "You think I like this? You think I want to be—" His voice cracked. He looked away, fists clenched. "Fuck." He cursed as he could feel his eyes tearing up, blurring his vision. He looked away, avoiding her gaze. He can't stand looking pathetic and stupid in front of other people. As if he already didn't look like it.
For a moment, the anger flatered, and she saw it — fear, loneliness, something fragile beneath the Prescott armor. It made her chest ache in a way she hated.
"Nathan..." Her voice softened, as much as she hated it. Her hand was about to reach for him, maybe she went too far.
"Don't." His head snapped back toward her, eyes wild. "Don't you fucking dare pity me."
She straightened instantly, walls slamming back up. "It's not pity. It's called being human. You should try it sometime."
He barked out a bitter laugh. "Spare me the Hallmark bullshit, Vic."
"You know what your problems is?" she shot back, stepping forward now. "You push everyone away and then act shocked when you're alone. It's pathetic."
"My problem?" He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "You wanna talk about problems now, huh? You're fake as fuck, Chase. You spend all your time playing queen of Blackwell, but underneath? You're just as empty as the rest of them."
The word hit harder than she wanted to admit. Fake. The one insult that always slipped under her skin. Her vision blurred with heat, but she kept her chin high. Neither of them spoke for a long beat. The only sound was Nathan's shaky breathing, and Victoria's heels clicking against the asphalt as she shifted, restless yet still holding her ground.
Then, finally, she broke the silence. "Maybe if you stopped lashing out at the one person who actually gives a shit, you wouldn't be so alone." The words slipped out before she could stop them. They hung in the cold air like a dare.
Nathan stared at her, stunned, then he laughed bitterly. "Yeah. Sure. Victoria Chase, my guardian angel. What a fucking joke."
Her throat ached. "Fine. You don't want me here? I'm gone." This time, she turned sharply on her heel and didn't stop. The click of her heels echoed across the lot, each step harder than the last, like she could stomp down the sting in her chest.
Behind her, silence. He didn't call after her nor followed her. Good, she told herself.
Let him rot.
But her chest was tight, her throat hot more than she wanted to admit. She hated how badly she wanted him to say something. Maybe, give her a reason to stay.
She was at the sidewalk beside the school's property, halfway to the school's gate when the low growl of an engine broke the quiet.
Headlights cut across the road, and there it was — Nathan's red Chevrolet truck, sleek and red, rolling to a stop right beside her. The window slid down, and his face glared at her from the driver's seat, pale unde rthe streetlights.
"Get in," he barked.
Victoria scoffed, clutching her purse tighter. "Fuck you."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Already covered that. Get in."
"I'm not—"
"Jesus Christ, Vic, just—" His voice cracked sharply around the edges. "I'm not letting it end like that. So either get in the fucking car, or I'll drive alongside you the whole way like a fucking creep."
Victoria froze, staring him down. He was serious. The dumb bastard actually would do such a thing. With a sharp sigh, she yanked open the passenger door and slid in, slamming it shut beside her.
"Happy now?" she snapped.
Nathan didn't answer. He just put the car in park, leaned back in his seat, and exhaled like he'd been holding his breath the whole time. The silence stretched, thick and electric.
Victoria crossed her arms, glaring straight ahead. "You're insane."
"Yeah," he muttered. "Takes one to know one."