Dead Set. || PURPLEPHONE

The Best Policy.

"So, what was last night about?" 

Scott looked up at Vincent, who was standing in front of a mirror across the room, his back to Scott. He'd finally taken to his hair with a brush and was currently attempting to get all the tangles out. 

"What do you mean?" Scott's tone was almost bored. He knew exactly what Vincent meant. He didn't want to have this conversation. Not here, not now. He'd barely got his mind around what went on last night. He chewed on his lip, one knee pulled to his chest and the other leg stretched out. 

"Well..." Vincent hissed as the brush got caught in a particularly large knot, "Ow, ow, ow... Well, you went and talked to your psychologist sister and suddenly you don't even want to touch me anymore. And don't blame it on needing some space because if there's one thing I've learnt from you it's that you're either cuddling someone or wishing you were cuddling someone." 

Scott sighed, falling backwards onto the bed, "I don't want to talk about it, Vincent."

"No? Come on, hon. I know something's troubling you. Big time. I'm here to talk to you. You can't be in a relationship if you don't talk about everything. The bad things, the good things, the plain embarrassing things..." Vincent pulled the hairbrush all the way through his hair, which was finally starting to look silky again, "I'm not going to ask you again, but... Would you rather worry about it by yourself, or talk to someone?" 

Scott sighed, running his hands down his face exhaustedly.  He didn't want to say it. He didn't want it to be true. He didn't want any confirmation of the fact that his boyfriend could be unstable. Although... he supposed that relationships are supposed to be based on trust. On respect, and... on honesty. Maybe... Vincent could give some closure to the rumour. Somehow disprove it.

Scott sighed. Curse his stupid heart. 

He rolled onto his side so that he could see Vincent fully. "Last night," he started, and then hesitated for just one second, taking a deep breath, "Last night Linda told me you might be a psychopath." 

Scott saw Vincent stiffen for a terrifying half-second, before he started laughing. He put down the hairbrush, turning around to face Scott. "That's what all of this is about? You think I might be mental? You're such a nerd, Scott. I'm not a psychopath." 

"Mmmgh," Scott whined, "She said psychopaths never know if they are or not..." Scott groaned, getting to his knees on the bed, "I'm so worried about you, Vincent. What if you're not okay? We'd have no idea until it's too late. Until you do something..." Scott frowned, his shoulders slumping, "Something you regret. Or worse, Vincent... Something you don't." 

Vincent's eyes widened. "Geez, does it really worry you that much?" He walked over to the bed, sitting next to Scott, crossing his legs. He offered a gentle smile, "Scott, I'm really flattered that you're so worried about me. Is there anything I could do that would make you less worried?"

"I don't know," Scott bemoaned, "It's all so confusing, Vincent. There's no way of knowing that you are, but there's no way of knowing that you're not. I want to know the person I'm in love with, Vin. I don't want to find out... he's someone else."

Vincent's smile disappeared, "Oh." He looked down at the sheets, "Okay. Well, then... The question you have to ask yourself is... Does it matter?" He sighed, looking up at Scott, "Scott, if I was a psychopath, would you really stop loving me?" 

Scott's eyes widened, "Oh, Vincent, of course not." He hesitated for a moment, before leaning forward, into Vincent's arms, "That's not what I meant to say. I-I... I'll love you no matter what, Vincent. Through thick and thin. For better or for worse." He smiled slightly. "I guess... I'm just scared... that you're not... who I think you are."