Set Backs. || PURPLEPHONE

Pancakes And Memories.

Scott stumbled out of the bathroom, his mind a blur. Curse Vincent and his ridiculously attractive ways... Though, part of him was glad Linda had interrupted. If Vincent had continued like that...

On the end of the bed were some neatly folded clothes. Scott frowned at a faded red shirt. Is that...? He picked it up and let it unfold in his hands "Oh my gosh. I haven't seen this shirt since I was eighteen!"

"Seen what?" Vincent looked over at the shirt Scott was holding, "Is that... a phone?"

The shirt in question was a worn red shirt, obviously a favourite as the fabric was thin from being washed a lot of times. In the middle was a white picture of a crude-looking rotary phone. "When I bought it online," Scott explained to Vincent,  "I thought it was a Pokémon-ball. I really did. And when it arrived, I got a rotary phone instead."

Vincent laughed, "That's classic. Is that where your obsession with phones began?"

"Probably," Scott grinned, pulling the shirt over his head and looking down at it. It was covered in small stains. So many memories... He picked up his boxers and slid them up underneath the towel, then dropped the towel. He felt Vincent's eyes on him as he grabbed a pair of plain grey tracksuit pants and put them on.

"You ever get self-conscious about your body?" Vincent asked suddenly.

The question surprised Scott, he turned around to blink at Vincent, "Well... doesn't everyone?"

"I never did," Vincent said, "I was always comfortable in my skin."

Scott scoffed, "Well, of course you did. I mean, look at you. Your body's amazing."

"And purple," Vincent pointed out, "If you think I didn't get bullied about that when I was little, you're crazy. Plus, I think your body's amazing."

Scott blushed, "What? This thing?" He gestured to himself, "Ha. I appreciate the flattery, but I know you're joking."

"I'm not," Vincent said, "You're too hard on yourself.  Apart from that scar across your chest from Foxy - which, in my opinion, only makes you look more attractive - you've got nothing to be self-conscious about. Plus..." His gaze flickered downwards again, "It's not like you've got anything down there to be embarrassed about."

Scott flushed and rolled his eyes, "You just had to sneak in a comment about that, didn't you? I knew you would. Don't get any ideas. What made you ask the question, anyway? It's... kind of personal."

"Because I pretty much only ever see you in long sleeves and long pants - even during summer. And you slept in your clothes last night. It's like you're trying to hide yourself," Vincent commented, then shrugged, "Just a theory. It doesn't matter. You keep getting ready, I'll meet you out at the car."

Vincent walked out of the room, leaving Scott staring at the bed in shock. He... He totally called it. He's more observant than I give him credit for.

Scott walked out of the bedroom, swinging past the kitchen to grab two pancakes and smother them in maple syrup before rolling them up like pancake cigars. He walked out to the driveway where Linda and Vincent were waiting.

"Ready to go?" Linda asked.

"Mhhm!" Scott's voice was muffled by the half pancake in his mouth. Gawd, could his mom cook pancakes. He stuffed the other half into his mouth as soon as he'd swallowed the first.

"Awesome!" Linda said, "Then let's go!" She hopped into the huge white four-by-four like a child going Christmas shopping.

Scott hopped into the passenger seat, and Vincent into the back.

"The shop I wanna take you guys to is the first shop from the east entrance, so that's where I'm going to park," Linda explained, "We'll be there in around ten minutes. You'll know when we're there." She started up the car and pulled out of the driveway.

Scott looked out of the window, all the streets going past were so familiar. He loved and yet hated coming back to his parents' house. Every building gave him memories. Memories of the time his neighbours set their house on fire. The time he found a stray cat and helped return it to its owners. There was the old park he used to play at - all good memories there. His primary school. Mostly good memories. The house that held his first party at 16, when he got as high as a kite from some joint the kids were passing around.

He remembered staggering home at 3am, the drugs just starting to wear off. He opened the door to find his whole family awake, scared to death that he'd gone missing. Linda loved describing the shade of sickly yellow his face was as he leaned over, vomited everywhere, and then passed out. He was grounded for a month, but he didn't complain. Never (ever, ever) again.

The high school he went to... ugh. He'd rather forget those years. He still remembered the small, thin, blue-eyed boy he'd fallen in love with way back in grade nine... Naturally, at that time, he hadn't called it love.

Just... intense admiration.

Unfortunately, he must have showed it more than he thought, because the rumours spread faster than wildfire. 'Scott's never kissed a girl'. 'Scott's making goo-goo eyes at the kid from 10-B'. 'I saw Scott drawing him in class!'

Then came the day when the little blue-eyed boy had come up to him and kicked him hard in the stomach, "Stop making me look bad in front of my friends, asshole."

The scenery changed, from parklands to city buildings, and soon the car went down a small ramp into a carpark. Scott blinked himself out of his thoughts and looked around at the crowded parking lot.

"Here's a park!" Linda careened the car into the car space so quickly that Scott had to grab onto the seat for dear life.

Taking the keys out of the car, Linda opened the door and jumped out happily, "Perfect. Now come on, fellas! A world of  dresses awaits!"