Set Backs. || PURPLEPHONE

{[- Set Backs -]}

"J-Just hear me out- P-Please!"

Scott frowned, his head pounding and throbbing like nothing else. He felt sick. Really sick. What kind of a hangover was this?

"Vincent, I-I'm begging you, please!"

Scott groaned, clapping his hands over his ears. What the hell was going on? Why was everything so loud? He pulled his gluey eyes open, but he couldn't see a thing. Everything was blurry.

He heard a sharp gasp from across the room, followed by a whimper, "P-Please don't do this... Please. I'm so close. So close to being free at last..."

"Shut up, mutt," A voice snarled. "You should have thought of that before you screwed my boyfriend."

Wait a moment. That voice. Scott knew that voice. That voice was... was...

He shot up straight in the - he was in a bed? - clutching the sheets to his - bare?! - chest. The pain in his head hit him like a whip cracking on his skull, and he had to pause with his hands clutching at his hair.

There was a hiss from across the room, as if in pain, and Scott blinked his foggy eyes and looked over. As the blurriness cleared, the scene before him unfolded. Oliver was pinned to the wall, looking nothing short of terrified out of his wits. Vincent was the one pinning him there. Scott couldn't see his face, but he did not seem happy.

That was when Scott saw a sliver of silver pressed against Oliver's throat. A bead of dark red blood trickled over it, dropping off the edge of the knife onto the floor. Oliver squeaked in pain, fright or a combination of both.

"Vincent!" Scott shouted. His voice sounded weak and hoarse. "Vincent, what are you doing?!"

He saw Vincent stiffen, becoming rigid. "Stay out of this, Scott," His voice was deep and threatening. "I'll deal with you next."

"B-But...!" Scott spluttered helplessly, "But you could hurt him, Vincent! Y-You might even... even kill him!"

Vincent's eyes widened a little, Scott's naivety beginning a fluttering in his chest. Shaking it off, he narrowed his eyes again. "I'm sure you'd hate that."

"Well... well of course I would, but I'd hate even more you having to live with the knowledge that you ever killed someone," Scott insisted, his voice taking on a kinder tone.

Vincent paused, the knife discontinuing to dig into Oliver's throat. The fluttering in his heart returned. He took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes once more, "Shut up, Scott."

"I'm jus-"

"Shut up, Scott!" Vincent growled. He pulled the knife away from Oliver's throat and threw it across the room. Scott yelped and ducked as it swung past him and landed like a dart in the wall.

Oliver sunk to his knees immediately, clutching his hands to his neck and spewing out prayers. "Gracias, Dios, por hacer de Scott despertar y salvar mi vida. Gracias, Dios, por lo que me permite seguir viviendo. Gracias, Dios, por dar una puta como yo una segunda oportunidad. Gracias, Dio-"

Vincent suddenly swung up his leg with a fit of anger, kicking Oliver in the head. Oliver crumpled, the light disappearing from his emerald eyes as he fell limply forward.

Scott gasped, clapping a hand over his mouth, "No... Oliver..."

"He's alive," Vincent said calmly, giving another kick to Ollie's limp body for good measure. "He's like a cockroach. Impossible to kill."

Vincent finally turned to face Scott. His face was ominously expressionless. "Get out of bed."

"Vincent... what... what happened last night?" Scott breathed, looking down at himself. He realised the button on his pants was undone, and his fly zipped down. "What the...?"