"What are we?"

Party?

Vincent looked outside, sighing. The weather had only gotten worse. Rain had been nonstop since yesterday, and with the morning chill, it was almost unbearable to go out. It matted up his beard, and the water stung his face. But, as much as he would've liked to stay inside, there was work. Work came first.
Only one problem.
He didn't have a coat. Or a heater in his car. Both issues that would've been avoided had he not been rushing out of Scott's apartment the night before.
Vincent looked over at Scott's jacket, neatly rested on top of a recliner chair. He walked up to it, lining the fabric with his fingertips. Vincent felt down the stitching and sighed. He wish he could've stayed.

It wasn't often that he got out, if ever at all. He didn't really have friends. He had acquaintances, business partners, coworkers... but not really friends. Well; there was Henry. But Henry had his own life. Henry grew up in Utah, he had a family here. Vincent-... William, was a different story.
He missed his home.
He missed his parents.

Vincent closed his eyes, shaking his head. Now was not the time. Now, he needed to find a solution to his temperature issue. Or, rather... he had a solution. He just didn't like the sound of it.

Henry always did nag him about buying a new jacket.

———————

Was the drive always this long? It couldn't have been. Right?
Vincent tried to focus on the road, he did. He really did. His fingers tapped and squeezed on the steering wheel, nails digging into the soft leather.

Why did Scott need so much cologne anyway?

Vincent shifted to tug on the collar of the jacket, the sleeves feeling far too big on him. Of course they were. Scott was tall. So tall. So-

Vincent slammed on his breaks, not even noticing the red light he was approaching until opposing traffic sped by him. He gasped and fell back against his seat, staring down at his steering wheel. Scott's cologne attacked all of his senses. It clouded his brain. He couldn't see. He couldn't think. Vincent waited, still, trying to steady his breathing.
He couldn't think about anything except for Scott.

Scott.

What are we?...

Suddenly, the cars behind him started blaring with horns, and it dawned on him that he had been stopped at a green light. Vincent stepped on the gas, extremely grateful that he was only a few minutes from the pizzeria.

Pulling into the parking lot beside the restaurant, Vincent shakily turned the car off. He leaned back into his car seat, taking a moment to catch his breath. He held up his hand, the dark red coat sleeve almost taunting him. Vincent bit the dead skin on his lip, praying to not draw any more blood than he already had these past few days.
It wouldn't hurt to indulge himself just... a little bit... right?
Vin thought for a moment, then anxiously pulled the fluffy coat collar up to his face. He closed his eyes and let the scent flood all of his senses.

Scott was always so good to him. Even when they fought, play fight or not, Scott was easy on him. He checked on him later in the day, things would be good again, and banter would resume. But things had been different lately. Things were always different when they were alone compared to what people saw, but recently... it was really different. Their back and forth-s were becoming less and less, turning to something more genuine. Honest conversations, holding each other, pulling away when someone else walked in, thinking of Scott constantly... did Scott think of him, too? God he hoped he did. They were friends, right? Friends think of each other.

Vincent tightened his grip on the collar of the jacket, ducking his head down to hide his face in it.

Did friends do this? He... didn't think so. Not from what he knew. Him and Henry certainly did not do this. But Scott said they were friends. Scott held his hands and looked him in the eyes, and told him they were friends. Did friends hold each other that way? Vincent let out a small hum at the thought of the way Scott held his hands. He missed the rough texture of the bandages on his own scarred skin.