Set Backs. || PURPLEPHONE

Guilt.

((I have been waiting to write this chapter since the start of this book seriously this is relieving so much author tension right here *deep breaths* probably gonna be a very long chapter or a two-parter))

Scott was lying on his back, staring despondently at the ceiling, stuck in the depressed part of his cycle of his third day since the club. He'd been that way for a good few hours now, after having his last spaz attack when Linda called to ask whether or not he planned on meeting up again any time soon.

Out of the corner of his mind, he heard the doorbell ringing. He shrugged it off. He was probably hearing things again. He kept hearing things recently. He didn't like it.

The doorbell rang once again.

He rolled over onto his stomach, groaning into the couch cushions. He didn't want to see people right now. He wanted to forget the rest of the world existed.

This time, the ringing of the bell was accompanied by loud knocking on his door. Someone really needed to see him.

"Fine!" Scott snapped out loud to nobody, feeling himself getting riled up again. He pulled himself off of the cushions of his faded orange couch and onto his feet. He had almost put on a dress today; it was only the cool temperature that had convinced him to stay in his pyjamas instead.

He dragged himself over to his front door and undid the lock, swinging it wide open. He blinked at the person he saw standing there, surprised. "Oh."

Ollie strangely looked as - if not more - awkward as Scott did. He rubbed the back of his neck, his green eyes eventually flicking up to meet Scott's, "Uh. Hi."

"Hey, Ollie..." Scott swallowed faintly. What does one exactly say to someone they haven't seen since they slept together?

Before any other attempt of conversation could be made, however, Oliver launched forward, pulling Scott into a hug, "I'm so sorry I didn't come around sooner. How are you?"

Scott smiled, feeling the will to cry bubbling up deep inside his chest and trying to force its way up his throat. There were no words to describe how much he had really needed a hug right now. He wrapped his own arms around Oliver, simply happy for the comfort. "I'm doing okay."

Oliver broke away again, "Muy bien. I'm glad."

"Do you wanna come in...?" Scott asked, stepping back from the door to let the Mexican pass.

"If... If you want me to..." Oliver stepped inside, and that awkwardness seemed to return.

With half-formed words and nervous laughs, the two men walked into the living room.

Oliver sat down on the couch across from Scott. All was silent for a good few minutes. Scott picked at a stain on the coffee table. Oliver stared down at his knees.

"...I..." Oliver started finally, "I know it doesn't help, and it doesn't justify what I did, but... I want you to know... I wouldn't have done it if I knew you were drugged."

"What?" Scott tilted his head in surprise and confusion. That was random. "Drugged?"

Oliver looked up at Scott in surprise, "Don't you know what happened Friday night?"

"Well- yeah... We... We... But I..." Scott trailed off. It was true; he couldn't remember anything after taking that drink, and in all honesty, surely he never would have slept with Oliver in his right mind. "I was drugged?" That changed everything. That explained everything.

"You didn't realise?" Oliver's green eyes examined him, filled with concern, "You must be so confused..." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Scott. I... I was angry, I was drunk... I just wanted to blow off some steam... I didn't think about the possibility that you were drugged. I thought you just genuinely wanted..." He trailed off.