Chapter Text
Coffee didn’t actually do anything for Scott—he didn’t even like the taste of it—but he tended to just get a cup anyway because he found it easier to focus on his work in places that weren’t his apartment, and he didn’t want to walk in and sit down at a café without looking like he had another reason to be there.
A new place had just opened up down the street from his and Shelby’s apartment, some “BEST café.” Scott couldn't be the judge nor jury on whether or not it lived up to that name considering anything he get from there tasted like week-old ash, but it did seem to be doing well with the human population. Either way, it had an interior that was suitable enough for Scott to focus on his work.
He’d joined a band a few months ago: “Gem and The Scotts,” named as such due to both him and one of his two other band mates having the first name of Scott. Their fan base—which was actually quite decently sized for being so new to the scene—differentiated between the two of them by calling him by his newly chosen last name, “Smajor,” and calling the other Scott “Impulse;” he really wasn’t sure where that nickname came from, if he was being entirely honest, but it stuck nonetheless. The lead singer was Gemini, or Gem, who could, at times, strike a bit of fear into Scott’s long dead heart anytime he was late to practice.
He was the band’s bassist and lyricist, and right now he was sat staring at his laptop’s screen trying to figure out whether or not a lyric on vampires was a little too on the nose. One part of him argued that their fan forum already had way too many “Smajor’s a vampire!” posts on it, and he really didn’t want to feed into it more lest they figure out they’re actually right. However, the other half of him thought it was a tad bit funny. Also, he lengths some of the more serious ones went to try and prove their theories reminded him of his dearly departed.
A notification snapped the staring contest he was having with the laptop screen. His phone buzzed again with another text as he opened to his messages with Shelby, who was currently quite spry over seeing her book on display in one of the local book stores.
Scott put down his phone and began packing up, set on grabbing a copy of Shelby’s book. He knew how hard she’d worked on it and that she was truly proud of it. He also just wanted to support his friend as her author career took off. The sidewalks of New York were moderately busy, and the streets were perpetually packed with traffic no matter the time of day. Despite having lived there for a few years now, Scott could never get used to the absolutely wretched smell that permeated through the thickest of crowds, some cross between a dead skunk and cat pee. He wrinkled his nose slightly, but continued forwards nonetheless.
The book store wasn’t too far away, thankfully. An overhead bell swung softly overhead as he pushed the door open, the cool air of the building hitting him like a truck when compared to the mid-afternoon sun of autumn. Sure enough, as he stepped into the building, his eyes had no problem finding Shelby’s book, which was proudly on display in the center of the store floor. He calmly walked past it, picking up a copy as he made his way towards the isles to simply peruse. He liked to humor himself with literature, and there were many more books to choose from nowadays then there were back before his slumber. He never tended to pick much up—he was quite the picky reader—but he found it enjoyable to do such a mundane task.
He was in the fantasy isle, looking at the blurb of one of the many, many books when his eyes fell upon the person at the other end of the isle. If he had a heart it surely would have stopped for that brief moment.
The person at the other end of the isle looked just like his Avid, startlingly so.
Every detail, down to the over-the-top, somewhat redundant, fanciful garb, reminded him painfully of his hunter. The stranger’s hair was brown with peppered, gray streaks throughout—like Avid’s had been when the week before he departed; their hands trembled and shook just slightly as they removed a book from the shelf, one of the ones Sausage had written when he was still mortal. The stranger stared at its cover, as if lost in thought, their red-purple eyes fixed on the author’s name.
Scott pulled his eyes away from the stranger when their eyes removed themselves from their fixed position. It was rude to stare here, Scott reminded himself (though he found that cultural norm quite perplexingly stupid). He continued on his errand, but allowed himself one last look back at the stranger as he was about to exit the aisle.
It seemed that the stranger found his eyes drawn to Scott as well, judging by the way their head snapped back to the book they were inspecting which such alarming speed.
Scott tried not to read too far into it.
“Shelby, I’m home!” Scott called, closing the door behind him. The afternoon sun streamed into the shared apartment, illuminating a few floating specs of dust. Shelby popped her head over the edge of the couch, Drift following suit. “Hi Scott!” She beamed, “Whatcha got in the bag?” “I bought a copy of your book for myself.” He replied, setting down his laptop bag on the kitchen island. “You’ve worked hard on it for many years now, I’d like to support you as your career takes off, etcetera etcetera.” He sat down in the armchair adjacent to the couch, crossing his legs as he did.
Shelby and Drift sat next to each other, sharing a plaid throw blanket. They made quite the cute couple, in Scott’s opinion. He was also glad they were out of the mutual pining phase that had lasted literal decades—having to watch that in real time was *excruciating.* Nonetheless, they got there eventually. “Speaking of writing, how’s your newest project coming along?” Drift asked, resting her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “It’s been alright. I’ve actually found some inspiration in Avid’s old journal—he apparently had quite the affinity for making music.” Scott sighed, “I do wonder what he would’ve sounded like…” A pause. “Anyway, I found something in his journal that I’d like to share,” he said, retrieving the old, leather-bound book from his bag. He flipped open to a certain page and handed it over.
The two younger vampires stared at it for a long minute. “…Is this about you?” Shelby said, her voice raising just slightly at the end into a question. “Damn I knew he was down bad, but I didn’t know it went to *this* extent.” Drift added, but the smile on her face revealed that she was only joking. “I think it’s quite sweet.” Scott chimed, “if you ignore all the murder and stuff.” “You’re such a romantic”. Drift teased, looking up from where she was reading over Shelby’s shoulder to roll her eyes at Scott. Scott heaved a dramatic sigh, “It’s truly my only weakness…” he said, pressing a hand over his heart in faux theatrics.
And in that moment, there came loud ring from Scott’s phone. Scott grabbed and unlocked it to find two text notifications.
Scott looked at the time and, surely enough, it was already three. He stood up and started grabbing his bags, “I was not watching the time..” he muttered to no one in particular, “I’ve got to get to practice. I’ll see you two at the show tonight?” “Yep! Break a leg!” Shelby replied. “…Why would I do that?” “It’s a figure of speech used in theater, it means good luck.” Drift replied. Scott gave an amused exhale, “Sounds a bit counterproductive, but sure. I’ll.. ‘break my leg,’ I suppose.” Shelby and Drift waved goodbye as he closed the door behind him.