"What are we?"

Cigarettes pt.1

Vincent sheepishly stepped into Scott's apartment, a lot more carefully than last time. Though hours had passed since the incident, his body still felt weak, and he really didn't need to embarrass himself any more in front of Scott than he already had. He was tired. It was always a struggle bouncing back from a day like this, a thick feeling of dread constantly washed over him, but was easier to deal with at home. He wished he was at home. Though, when Scott offered, all he could think about was...

Vincent looked up at the taller man and let out a small sigh. It was him.

It was always him.

"So- uh... I guess you'll sleep on the couch,"

"Mhm."

"... Yeah. Alright, cool. Let me grab you a pillow and a blanket..." Scott trailed off, mumbling to himself. He shifted away from Vincent, instead opting to walk into another room that Vince hadn't yet been in.
Scott's bedroom? Probably. Vincent bit his lip with curiosity, staring at the small gap in the door that Scott had left.
Would it be strange for him to let himself in?

Yes.

Did he approach the door anyway?

...Also yes.

Vincent gently pressed at the door, peeking through the opening. He couldn't see much from where he was, aside from Scott's bed and a shelf on the wall. His bed was smaller than Vincent's, ironic considering the height difference. Overtop laid a large blue plaid comforter, dark blue sheets and pillows complimenting the color of the blanket nicely. He did think it was odd for someone who liked red so much to have such a blue room, though.

The scent of his cologne- that damned cologne, wafted out of his room. It was stronger than anywhere else in the apartment. It would be sickening if it were anyone else. Vincent leaned in, eyes lidded.

God, he was tired.

He wondered what his body would look like next to Scott's in bed.

"You need clothes?"

Scott's sudden voice, and the closeness of it, made Vincent jump back from where he was standing. He looked up as Scott approached the crack in the door, the other man studying him for a moment. Had he known Vincent was watching?
"I- uh..."

Vincent thought about his situation. He was at Scott's house, no- correction. Apartment. Just yesterday they had been dancing together, holding each other and swaying. Now he was standing in this man's living room, flustered and dazed. A year ago he would have killed for this opportunity; so why was he getting cold feet now?
Against his better judgement, Vincent swallowed and said, "No. I have some in the car. I'll go grab them, I.... Should've probably already done that. I-..." he looked up at Scott, his sentence trailing off. "... yeah."

"... yep."

It was quiet for a moment, then Vincent awkwardly grinned and gestured to the front door. "I'll be right back."

"Sounds good."

".. yes."

———

Vincent sat back in his car, groaning out loud.

What was the matter with him!?

He has everything handed to him on a silver platter, and he retreats back to his car. Vincent slumped over and put his head on the steering wheel, cursing at himself.

Moving forward like this was a lot more difficult than he had envisioned.

He wasn't sure what exactly he thought the first move would be.

Perhaps a night of passion that, in a perfect world, would've lead to a relationship.

But Scott wasn't like that. And the world they lived in definitely wasn't perfect.
Vincent couldn't say he was particularly unhappy, but... He looked back up at the apartment building in front of him, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

This was a lot.

He fumbled and reached for glove compartment to his right side, pulling out the small box of cigarettes he had sitting inside. Vince rolled down his window, breathing in the night air through his nose. It felt good.
For once, it felt good to be away from Scott.
Vincent laid a cigarette in his mouth, cupping it as he lit the end.
The thought scared him.

He drew from the cigarette, closing his eyes. He was trying to quit, but that was much easier said than done.

A lot of things recently seemed to be easier said than done.

He didn't know how long he had been in the parking lot, but he managed to make it halfway through his cigarette before there was a gentle knock at his window.
Vincent already felt like he knew who it was.
He looked over, and just like he thought, there he was. Scott was changed into more casual clothes now, blue jeans and a nice fitting white t-shirt. Vincent fumbled to put out his cigarette, crushing it in the cup holder to his right.
Not that it would do much good, as Scott had definitely already seen him smoking.

Vincent anxiously rolled down the window, Scott taking a step back to avoid the smoke clearing from the car.

"You're smoking." Scott mumbled,  waving his hand. 

Vincent stammered for a moment, then nodded. 

It was silent for a bit, Vince unsure of what to say. He felt like he should apologize, but he didn't know quite what to apologize for. 

"... What's wrong?" Scott's voice sounded different than usual. Tired. 

Vincent shook his head, looking down at his lap. He didn't want to get into this. Not again.

"Is it... Am I doing something wrong?"

Vincent's eyes widened and he looked up at the taller man. "What?"

"Am I doing something wrong?" Scott restated, a little more confident this time. 

"No- No, of course not. No." Vincent stammered, feeling awkward looking up at Scott through the car window. "I just-..."

What exactly could he say that he hadn't said already? What point could he make that they hadn't already talked about? He didn't know. Or maybe there just wasn't an answer.

"This is all moving very fast. I mean-..." Vincent let out a defeated sigh. "Is this okay?"

"I-... I don't know."

"Mm..." Vincent let out a quiet hum, looking back down at his lap. The last thing he wanted to do was sound like a broken record. But he wasn't sure what else to do. "I want... this. All of this. It's just that..." He sighed, shrugging. "This isn't how I imagined it going."

"How did you imagine it?"

"... I don't know." 

Vincent looked over as his door was opened, Scott standing in front of him. God- he... He looked so... 

"Come on." 

Vincent hesitated. "M-my clothes-"

"Vincent, the car stinks like cigarettes. You're getting a shower, and I'm getting you clothes. Come on," He said again, this time offering Vincent a hand. 

Scott's eyes met Vincent's, and he couldn't help but take it. 

It was always him.