Dead Set. || PURPLEPHONE

Clearing the Air.

Vincent leaned against the wall, his pale eyes scanning over the dining area. Scott had disappeared off to go talk to Kayla, and out of the people that remained, Vincent trusted none of them. The Mexican bastard, the homophobic emo, the silently-judging-you Dad, the overprotective Mom, and the psychologist in tights.

"Why so serious, amigo?" Oliver walked over, leaning against the wall beside him. "You should be enjoying yourself!"

Vincent groaned, rolling his eyes, "What do you want? I don't have any money."

Oliver chuckled,  "Ahw, come on, don't be like that. I don't understand where all your hatred for me comes from. I-"

"You want to know where it comes from? You're trying to steal away my boyfriend, you dog. You have been from the start. You're smitten. It's disgusting," Vincent spat. "You're about as revolting as a prostitute."

Oliver fell silent then, his face falling. He looked away, and Vincent instantly knew he'd crossed a line with that last remark.

...

...Was... Oliver okay? He looked like he was about to cry.

"Look," Vincent turned to face him, "I didn't mean that, I'm sor-"

"It's okay," Oliver cut him off suddenly, holding a hand up. "You're right. I am as revolting as a sex worker. There's no need to apologise for that." He took a deep breath, and something in him almost seemed to change. He didn't seem so light-hearted anymore. "I don't know why we act like this. You of all people should know that sometimes... Sometimes you meet someone, and... you don't really mean to fall in love, but it just happens."

Vincent nodded, just slightly. Yeah, he certainly knew what that felt like.

"But..." Oliver looked at him, "I don't understand why we have to act like children, fighting over a toy. I don't want you to see me as a threat, hombre. I don't want us to be divided by our jealousy. I want us to be brought closer by..." He paused, waving his hands as he thought of the English words for what he was trying to articulate, "I want us to appreciate and embrace our love for him."

"What do you mean?" Vincent asked, "And before you say it, no. No matter how hard you plead, I'm not going to make this a three-way relationship."

"That's-That's not what I meant," Oliver shook his head. "Look, Vincent. We're grown men. You know the old saying... If you love someone, let him go. If he doesn't come back to you, he was never yours in the first place. Scott wouldn't be happy with me, and to take him away from you would only end in three broken hearts. I don't want that to happen. I don't want to cause you pain like that. I've always known that. I might joke around, usually, but I can be serious, too. And jokes aside, I have never, ever had the intention of taking Scott away from you."

"Where are you getting at?" Vincent raised his eyebrows impatiently.

"If you prove to me that he's happy, I have no reason to interfere," Oliver straightened up. "Look: it's really no secret that I'm in love with him. You know that, I know that, he probably knows it too-"

"I doubt it," Vincent mumbled, "He's always naïve with that kind of stuff."

Oliver shrugged, "Doesn't matter. What I'm getting at is that I don't need to be in a relationship with him, as long as I know that he's happy. That's enough for me. So... This is what I mean when I say I want us to be brought closer by our love for him. Listen. I want to hear about it. If he gets sick and falls asleep, and he's the cutest thing you've ever laid eyes on, I wanna hear about it. If he surprises you by cuddling you on the couch while you're watching TV, I wanna hear about it. If you two are alone, and you experience the most mind-blowing, passionate night of your lives, I wanna hear about it. Anything that proves to me that he really is happy with you."

"Uhh..." Vincent shifted a little, "That seems a little weird..."

Oliver scoffed, "Oh, shut up. Every man loves to brag about his boyfriend or girlfriend. Don't tell me you haven't ever bragged about him to someone before."

Vincent blinked, then laughed nervously, "Eheh... you got me there..."

"Exactly," Oliver smiled, "Just treat me as the person you brag to. It doesn't have to be anything weird or personal, nothing creepy. Just every once and a while. And, personally, I'd get Scott's permission beforehand, but that's up to you."

"Okay," Vincent nodded, "Alright. This is all really weird and you're crazy, but alright. If I ever feel like bragging, I know who to brag to."

"Great," Oliver turned properly to face him, sticking out his hand, "So I suppose this means we're all clear? No more stupid rivalries? Scott's a person, not an object, and he's already chosen who he wants. It's our place to respect that decision."

Vincent raised an eyebrow, but smiled, taking Ollie's hand and shaking it, "Okay then. No more letting jealousy get in the way of the person we love."

"Good," Oliver let go of Vincent's hand and shoved his own hands into the pockets of his jeans. He made to walk away, only to pause, looking back at Vincent, "And I wouldn't be so harsh on prostitutes. Some of them don't have a choice."

A small, good-natured smile, and Oliver was gone.