Set Backs. || PURPLEPHONE

Winter

((Thank you so much, @Sociopathi-- wAIT ToastyButtSlice -- for this AMAZING fanart.  Look at that adorableness awwww I just wanna hug him <3 that's actually pretty much exactly as I imagine him.))

Scott lay on his back on the couch again, wondering if Oliver had lied to him.

It had been more than three days now and yet... the depression hadn't gone away.

The other symptoms had  recessed, he supposed. He no longer saw things move out of the corner of his eye or heard his phone going off when it wasn't. He had stopped throwing up, he'd become less clumsy... the worst part was that the irrational anger had gone away too. Now there was nothing to distract him from feeling awful.

He guessed it was better now. He no longer sat staring at the floor wondering if it was all even worth it, or if he should just make it stop. Now he just had a dull ache deep inside his heart.

It was weird, but most of all, what he wanted right now was a hug. That was all. Didn't matter who, didn't matter why. He contemplated calling Linda, but getting her all worried and driving all the way over here just for her company seemed a little harsh. Anyway, he knew she'd never let him go after that. She'd start trying to give him psychiatric advice, force him to go for 'check-ups' every now and then to make sure he was doing okay. Linda might act like she didn't care, but she cared alright. Sometimes too much.

Plus, she was refusing to talk to him after he went off at Mike for dating her. Well, he wasn't going to apologise. It was gross! Not only was Mike Scott's best friend, but also his ex. Now Scott couldn't even look at his phone without getting bombarded with Facebook photos of Mike and Linda cuddling and kissing. It brought to mind lyrics of some song he'd heard once. "Okay. We get it. You're both a happy couple. Why else go to the trouble? Of posting it ten times a day?" Not to mention, now that she had a boyfriend, Linda had gone back to wearing skin tight leggings and crop tops. Eugh. The thought of Mike ogling her was insurmountably disgusting. Linda could do better.

Scott let out a long sigh and pulled out his phone. He considered turning on the music. Music usually helped him feel better and forget about the deep hole in his heart. Then again, every time Grace Kelly came on, he was brought to the brink of tears again, remembering his old boyfriend and how much he still loved him.

He still couldn't bring himself to go to work, which he knew was really immature of him, but the idea of seeing him again was absolutely terrifying. It would be so awkward! How does one just go around talking and working with their ex like nothing had happened? Not to mention how to Fazbear Fangirls would react to their fight.

He wanted to explain to Vincent that he'd been drugged, but he was pretty sure it'd make no difference. Drugged or not, Vincent still had every right to be hurt. It... was kind of Scott's fault for leaving his drink unattended.

Scott rolled off of the couch and walked into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and looked through it. Why was there never anything in the fridge? He felt like he literally just bought groceries. He looked down at himself. He was wearing warm pants and his purple hoodie. Who cares if he was wearing his pyjamas underneath? It was still good enough to go out in.

He swung past the kitchen counter to grab his wallet, and then headed out the front door.

It felt good to be outside. Being well into January now, the air was crisp and cool - a kind of coldness that seeped in no matter how many layers you were wearing. Scott didn't mind though. He liked the cold. There was something about Winter that was so captivating. The sky seemed clearer, the air seemed fresher. A squirrel darted across the frost in front of him, and it made him smile. He was a sucker for small critters. 

It hadn't really snowed that much since the huge snow at Vincent's house (he winced at the bittersweet memory). There had been the occasional flutter of snowflakes on his windowpane, but nothing exciting.

The local corner-store was actually quite a while away, but Scott figured he needed the exercise, and hey, it distracted him from being upset. Actually, on the spur of the moment, Scott decided he'd go one better and go order a coffee at the café half a kilometre down the road. Then he could buy a croissant or a pie or something.

The café was a super nice place. It had these little heater things built under the tables, so you could warm your feet while eating, which was a genius invention on a cold Winter's day. Scott was famous for having really cold hands and feet. As a kid - and even, admittedly, as a teen-, he used to hug friends and family innocently before pressing his freezing fingers against the poor victim's back. The amount of people he'd gotten to yelp or hiss from that one prank was countless. The reaction never got old.

He ate his breakfast in silence, looking out the fogged up window to the street outside. He reached out and drew a little smiley face in the fog.

After he'd finished his coffee and pastry, and left the waitress a generous tip, he started on the long trek through the frozen ground back home.

He was glad he'd gone out on this trip. He felt completely refreshed, as though he could take anything the world threw at him today. The sadness deep in his heart hadn't gone, of course, but it had been buried deep inside of him.

A few cars drove past lazily as he walked, but other than that, he was completely undistracted. It was peaceful, and calming. He watched his breath fog out in front of him and smiled. Cutting through the frosted grass towards his house, he stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets, only to pause abruptly when he got to his front door, his eyes widening.

He tilted his head curiously and swallowed, considering just turning around and walking away, before finally settling on speaking up, "Vincent? What... What are you doing here?"