Love is a Three Letter Word [You]

II

"He does post some mighty fine selfies, I must say," Vincent stopped scrolling through Instagram for one lone second just to take a sip of his tea. The store was closed. He had nothing to do but repair first edition books in the basement like any other day, but instead of doing that he was drinking tea and staring at Diedrich. He wasn't going to get involved, or even invested, but he kept finding that his thoughts went back to that tall muscular man. 

That tall muscular man who had a boyfriend. 

Good news: he isn't turned off by guys. Bad news: he has a damned boyfriend. "I don't approve," Vincent muttered, looking at the picture of the two together. "He isn't right for you," he sighed and locked his phone, putting it on the far end of the table and tried his best to ignore it. 

"Aleister isn't even a sexy name. Who names their kid 'Aleister.'" Vincent grumbled. "If I'm being honest, which I usually am, the guy just looks like a tall drink of rich privilege." Vincent finally placed his cup down and began working on the book he'd been trying to fix for the past three hours. But one thing led to another and he always ended up back to Diedrich. Which ultimately led him here. Where is here? 

The window of Diedrich's humble abode. A nice sized apartment that the man clearly couldn't afford but was living in to impress someone. Or multiple people. Vincent stared in through those giant windows from across the street. Did this guy just not care about people seeing him? Did he not own any sort of blinds? Like, really now, dangerous people exist in this world. Or are you too muscular to care? 

Oh. So he was a writer, not that he had much time to write. He must've opened his laptop about fifty times in the last thirteen minutes. He kept going back to his phone. Were the people he was texting that important? And yet he hadn't even bothered to tweet out about the cute bookstore clerk. Vincent would be offended if it wasn't for the small fact that this male did have a boyfriend. Actually, no, he was still offended. The boyfriend was a dick. With a name like Aleister, he really couldn't be anything else. 

Speak of the devil and he just might appear. A car door slammed and the walking privilege knocked on Diedrich's door. He wasn't three steps into the humble abode before he shoved Diedrich right up against the wall. Are you really going to let him treat you like that? Come on, you have muscles and were trained in martial arts, most likely, fight back. Or, is this some kind of kink fantasy these two enjoy? For the record, Vincent would be able to satisfy that much better. He was skilled in the art of rope tying. 

Vincent shook his head, wanting to look away but unable to. He already knew this was an invasion of privacy on multiple accounts. Vincent was a stalker. He admitted that fact to himself long, long ago. He wasn't hurting anyone. He didn't take pictures or anything. He just watched. It was fine (not really, but nobody is perfect). 

Diedrich and Aleister were clearly arguing about something but the walking privilege bucket continued to push himself onto Diedrich. Eventually Mr. Handsome gave in and...oh, so Diedrich is a bottom. Does he like being a bottom? Must not be satisfying with a guy like that doing anything. Vincent shook his head in disapproval. 

The entire interaction was short-lived (in more ways than one) and Aleister walked right out without much thought. You call this a relationship? Vincent let out a long sigh. He held his face in his hands for a second or two. Diedrich, you can't be satisfied with a guy like him. Be real with yourself. You need a romantic. 

And, for the love of God, buy yourself some curtains. If you're going to jack off after that horrible encounter, no one can blame you for that since Aleister clearly only cares about his own enjoyment, but honestly, do you want the world to find easy blackmail material? Vincent shook his head again and decided it was time to go back home. He couldn't stand much more of this. Diedrich was an open book with no concern for the future. That was refreshing, in its own way, but Vincent couldn't help but be worried.