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toastybagel-fanfiction · 4 months ago

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behind the glass chapter 12 alternate opening

hey y'all!!! so i completely rewrote the beginning of chapter 12 before posting it but i kept the old opening in a different doc so i could post it on here. enjoy!

“I used to think about this all the time…” Vincent stood in the living room, turning around, taking in every little detail. “Our own house.”

“You mean apartment?” Scott chuckled, standing beside Vincent. “It’s not really anything special. It’s kinda shitty.”

“I don’t care about that.” Vincent’s have trailed across Scott’s shoulders, wrapping his arm around Scott and holding him close. “It’s special because we live here together.”

“You’re sweet,” Scott replied with a smile, melting into Vincent’s touch. “I’m glad you like it; I don’t think I’m ready to let it go yet.”

A black cat scampered out from between two boxes, hesitantly batting at a flap of cardboard hanging off of a box.

“I could live here forever, Scott, until the end of our days- until we’re old and gray.”

“Is that from one of your songs?” Scott looked up at Vincent, playfully poking his nose.

“No, but I might use it as inspiration.” Vincent’s eyes had flickered over to an empty spot on the floor beside the couch. “Would you mind if I got a piano?”

“Not at all. Would you mind if I got a liquor shelf?”

“I thought you didn’t drink after…” Vincent trailed off, looking down into Scott’s eyes. “You know, after high school, you told me that you didn’t want to drink anymore.”

“Things change.” Scott glanced down at the college sweatshirt that Vincent was wearing. He gently ran his fingers over the embroidered letters. “We’ve changed. Sometimes, I need a nice distraction, and drinking does that for me.”

“As long as you’re responsible about it-” Vincent gently tilted Scott’s chin upward. “Drink as much as you like. I don’t want you to become dependent, though; I lived with alcoholics my whole childhood and it’s not pretty.”

“After that one party…” Scott’s head was empty. He didn’t have memories of being drunk, only memories of paying for it the morning after. He wasn’t sure which night was the worst. “I don’t want to drink so much that I lose control, but I also don’t want to be sober forever.”

“It’s not that bad,” Vincent replied with a shrug. “I hardly drank while I was across the pond, and I still enjoyed my time there.”

“I never left Colorado. I don’t know if I ever will.” Scott took a step back. “I’m glad you had a good time, Vince.”

“You still haven’t told me what you’ve been up to.” Vincent lowered his voice.

“I went to school and didn’t like it, so I dropped out and stayed with Michael for a while.” Scott avoided looking into Vincent’s eyes as he stepped to the side, idly peeking into a few boxes that were stacked against the wall.

“Then?” Vincent insisted after a moment of silence.

“Then, I got a job at Freddy Fazbear’s and moved here,” Scott hesitated, feeling the sting of regret in his chest as he watched Vincent nod in reply. “It was boring without you around.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.” Looking up, Scott met Vincent’s eyes. “That’s it.”

“Scott, please…” Vincent reached forward, delicately taking Scott’s hand. “Promise that, someday, you’ll tell me what you’ve really been doing these past few years.”

Scott took a step toward Vincent.

“I’ve already told you-”

“I know.” Vincent was softly smiling as he let go of one of Scott’s hands to lay a hand on the side of his face. “Whenever you’re ready, I want you to tell me everything. I don’t care how long I have to wait.” Vincent paused for a moment, taking a breath. “I know you’ve been thinking about something. I see it every time you look at me.”

“I’m not ready.”

“That’s okay.”

Vincent pressed his lips against Scott’s for only a moment before pulling away and wandering into the kitchen. Hearing plates clatter together from across the room, Scott sat down on the couch and simply observed his surroundings. The stacks of boxes towered over him now. He couldn’t imagine fitting all of Vincent’s stuff into his tiny apartment.

Did he want Vincent to move out?

No, of course not. Scott couldn’t stand to live alone anymore. If Vincent hadn’t been planning to return to Colorado, Scott would have already moved out of his apartment and started knocking on Michael’s door, begging for a place to stay. Living with Vincent was the best option that Scott had, and he knew it.

He stood up and paced across the room, pushing the swinging doors open and leaning against the tile wall.

“Vincent?”

Vincent set down the dish in his hand before he could lift it into the cupboard, turning around to face Scott.

“Yeah?”

“If I told you the truth, what would you say?”

The doorbell rang. Jeremy could hear it from outside of the apartment as he stood beside Scott on the porch.

“I’m not ready,” Scott muttered.

“You need to go home, Scott. You’ve been missing for weeks.”

“William was right; I don’t think I can look Vincent in the eye, not after what I did.”

Jeremy’s eyes flickered over to Scott.

“Are you gonna tell him?” he asked, turning his head.

“I don’t know.” Scott shifted his weight between his feet, the wooden planks creaking. “I mean, I’ll tell him where I was, but everything else…”

“Yeah.”

There was a moment of silence. Jeremy rang the doorbell again.

“Could you stick around for a few minutes after we go inside?” Scott glanced toward the window, which was completely covered with a thick curtain. The fabric stirred as if someone passed by it.

“Sure, I can.”

“Thank you.”

The door clicked as it opened, Vincent stepping in front of the door before freezing in shock.

“Scott…” Vincent uttered, as if he had nearly forgotten how to say it. “You- You’re alive…”

Vincent stepped forward, beaming as he wrapped his arms around Scott.

“You’re ali-”

He was cut off by a soft yelp, pulling away to find Scott’s hand cupped around his bandaged shoulder.

“He just got out of the hospital,” Jeremy explained somberly. “I found him with a stab wound in his shoulder.”

Vincent knelt to the ground, grasping Scott’s hand and staring up into his pained eyes.

“Where was he?” Vincent’s eyes didn’t leave Scott’s. “Who stabbed him?”

Jeremy gently nudged Scott’s shoulder.

“Scott?” He muttered. “Do you want me to tell Vincent what I saw?”

“No-” Scott shook his head, staring down at Vincent and his disheveled hair and the old t-shirt and sweatpants that Scott had rarely seen him wear. Grasping onto Vincent’s hands, Scott could practically feel the grief radiating off of him.

“It was William Afton, wasn’t it?” Vincent shot a concerned glance at Jeremy. “He tried to kill you.”

“He tried to kill me…” Scott mumbled emptily, unsure if he believed his own words.

“Did he do anything else?”

Shaking his head again, Scott broke eye contact with Vincent.

“When he first got admitted,” Jeremy added. “They said that he was dehydrated and that he had a mild chemical burn in his throat.”

“Chemical burn?” Vincent’s gaze flickered from Jeremy to Scott. “Did he try to poison you?”

“I- I don’t know-” Scott choked out, his heart beginning to beat erratically in his chest. “I don’t remember anything else-”

“Hey,” Vincent squeezed Scott’s hands tightly, lowering his voice and attempting to quell his own anxiety as well as Scott’s. “Hey, I’m sorry. I won’t ask you any more questions.” He looked up at Jeremy with a sympathetic gaze. “Maybe we should wait a day or two before we talk about this.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” Jeremy took a step back. “Will you guys be okay if I go home until then?”

Scott nodded, attempting to take slow, steady breaths even though his heart refused to stop racing.

“Thank you, Jeremy,” Vincent replied, pulling himself to his feet. “Thank you for bringing Scott home. If there’s anything you need, don’t be afraid to ask.”

“It’s not a problem, really; I’m just glad that I was able to bring him home.” Jeremy patted Scott on the back before turning around, glancing at the couple once more. “See you guys later.”

With a wave of his hand, Jeremy was walking down the stairs of the apartment complex, his footsteps gradually fading away.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” Vincent murmured, still holding tightly onto Scott’s hand to ensure that he truly was there. “This place felt so empty without you, Scott.”

Vincent led Scott through the open apartment door, closing it behind them as they stepped further inside. The apartment was dark, the only light source streaming in from between the curtains on the windows. When he flipped the light switch, Scott almost expected the apartment to be a cluttered mess.

It wasn’t. The apartment was clean except for a few throw pillows and a blanket that had fallen on the floor. It was just as Scott had seen it before he left for William’s house.

“Home, sweet home, right?” Vincent joked, reaching out to playfully punch Scott’s shoulder but quickly pulling his hand away. “If I had known you were coming home, I would have cleaned up a bit.”

“It’s alright.” Scott turned toward the bedroom door, noticing how the room was still a mess and the bed hadn’t been made. “It’s the same.”

“Yeah,” Vincent replied hesitantly. “It’s been kind of uneventful these past few weeks. I haven’t done much besides…” He trailed off, watching as Scott walked past him and stared up at the decorations on the wall. “...looking for you…”

Taking a seat on the couch, Vincent’s eyes were locked on Scott, watching as he looked around the house as if it was completely foreign to him. Eventually, Scott noticed Vincent’s staring and looked back at him.

“Oh, sorry,” Scott mumbled as he sat down beside Vincent with a sigh.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“I don’t know.” Scott’s voice began to quiver. “I’m sorry for disappearing, and for leaving you alone, and for…” He took a shallow breath. “...for everything.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Vincent reached out, hesitantly brushing his hand against Scott’s back. “You’re safe here; everything is okay.”

“This is all my fault.” Scott glanced down at Vincent’s clothes before turning to apprehensively scan the entire apartment. Vincent had been devastated, and nothing had changed in the weeks that Scott was absent. “I did this to you.”

“It’s not your fault-” Vincent attempted to console Scott, realizing that his words were falling on deaf ears. “Scott, I need you to listen to me.”

“I’m sorry…” Scott whimpered, curling up against the armrest of the couch and burying his face in his arms. “I’m so sorry.” He gasped for air as he sobbed, recoiling every time Vincent tried to comfort him.

“Come to bed, Scott,” Vincent asked later that night, kneeling beside the couch. “Please come to bed with me.”

“I don’t know if I…” Scott trailed off, his left hand idly touching his right shoulder. “If I should…”

“I promise, I won’t hurt you. I just need to know that you’re still here with me.”

That was it. Scott knew that Vincent didn’t trust him. It was understandable, too; Scott wouldn’t trust Vincent if he decided one day to pack up and disappear in the middle of the woods one day. Why did he expect to be forgiven so easily-

“Scott?” Vincent gently tapped his knee, trying to get his attention. “Do you want the bed to yourself?”

“No- I-” He stammered, nearly forgetting what Vincent had just said. “I can sleep with you. That’s okay.”

“Want to change those bandages before we go to bed?” Vincent rested his hand on Scott’s arm. “I can help if you need me to.”

“Would you?” Scott reluctantly asked, remembering with a shiver the first time he saw the wound clearly. He never made an attempt to see it again.

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