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In the aftermath of the Eternal Scout ceremony, Cecil found himself only too happy to go home. Of course, he felt that way after any day of work, really. As much as he loved the station, which he did, it was still a job and he was like any other person who wanted nothing more than to go home at the end of the day.
And man had it been a long day.
Tossing his keys in the little bowl he kept near the door, he headed straight for the kitchen. Muscle memory leading him through the act of the grabbing a glass from the cabinet and the bottle of whiskey from the counter. With a frown, he noted that he was running low on the latter, but that was definitely an issue for another day, he decided as he poured himself a stiff drink.
“Bottom’s up,” he said to no one before taking a large gulp. Large enough for it almost burn on the way down. Still, better than the alternative.
With bottle and glass in tow, he headed to his living room. Placed the bottle on the coffee table before settling down on the couch with a heavy sigh. Taking another sip of his drink, he nodded quietly to himself as he stared at the wall.
It had been a good ceremony. And it was rather nice that the city council decided that they would use the eternally trapped forms of Barty and Franky as a reminder of all the wonders and terror of being scout. Certainly future scouts would benefit from a chance to look upon them with fear and pride.
Quickly he drained the last of his glass before he pouring himself another. He hoped that those two words wouldn’t always leave him feeling a bit panic, a strange pinprick like feeling starting behind his eyes. If it had been merely because of the beauty of the ceremony, which had been rather lovely, he would be fine with such a strange, emotional response.
But the heavy feeling in his chest wasn’t something that could be attributed to the ceremony. Well, at least not the beauty and wonder of it. Instead, his mind seemed to wander to that Scoutmaster, who had looked rather good with all things considered. Perhaps it had been the strange energy surrounding the entire ceremony and the children who mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, but Earl Harlan had possessed a gorgeous, almost otherworldly glow about him.
Because, Cecil wasn’t petty. He could admit that his ex was a rather attractive man. If anything, it would’ve been stranger if he thought otherwise. But, then, back when they were dating, he had never felt so disconnected from the man’s beauty.
With a shrug, he began to nurse his drink slowly, brows drawn together as he stared at a mark on the wall that definitely hadn’t been there a few days ago. Weird. Maybe he was just oblivious to little changes. After all, the heavy feeling he felt in his chest at the thought of how Scoutmaster Earl Harlan had looked when they spoke had to be proof of that.
How long had it taken him to notice that those soft blue eyes and sweet smile changing? That his smile became a rare occasion and always tense around the edges? The weird encroaching redness that had started like pink only to grow darker and spread throughout. The cool and corpse like parlour of the man’s skin.
Sure, seeing him again after so long, proved that, much like during puberty, Earl had settled into his new visage. The glossy pupils that slowly faded into a void like black at the edge worked with how he was pale enough to see the roadmap of veins and his usual brown hair. Even if he felt cold as ice when he had grabbed Cecil’s arm, it worked. Worked in a way that he would’ve never expected.
Yet, despite the beauty of the man, it wasn’t the same. Perhaps he was just being nostalgic, but Scoutmaster Earl Harlan simply did not compare to his Earl. Physically they might have been the same people, but to Cecil, Earl would always be best remembered as the sweet man who smiled at him as though he was the world. Blue eyes that seemed deeper than the ocean and warmer than the sun. The way he glowed in a suntanned way more than an ethereal manner.
Finding his glass empty, Cecil put it down rather than drink any more. He missed his Earl at times. Even if the man clearly wasn’t fit to lead the scouts the way the Scoutmaster was, the man had been a good one. A good man who’s voice made Cecil feel pleased and content unlike the small fleeting feeling of danger he had felt listening to Scoutmaster Earl Harlan speaking, that hollow tone never breaking except for when he told Cecil that they could’ve had something special.
Smiling to himself, he was couldn’t help but be pleased that even the Scoutmaster felt such a thing. Pleased and a bit silly, given that he had moved onto Carlos, who had yet to truly notice him which was rather frustrating. Not to mention there was the way he kept dividing Earl into two separate people in his mind. Certainly that wasn’t healthy.
And yet, he couldn’t imagine the man who had been dragged away to that otherworldly abyss by those children as the man he had been so excited to see at the end of the day. The one who had Cecil waiting on pins and needles for the day he would propose after he had accidentally found the engagement ring.
Brushing his thumb along his ring finger with a frown, Cecil let out a shuddering breath as that pinprick feeling behind his eyes turned into a tear like moisture. He wouldn’t really miss Scoutmaster Earl Harlan all that much, if at all. Yet, the fact that there was truly no chance he would ever get Earl back hurt just as much as when Cecil forced himself to leave him because of the Scoutmaster he had been becoming.
“Well, I think I need another drink,” he announced in a chipper voice before grabbing the bottle.
Bringing it to his lips, he took a gulp or two before sighing heavily. Hopefully, if Carlos ever finally caught onto the fact that they were pretty much destined to be together, he wouldn’t change into a near soulless shell of his former self. Not that Cecil liked to be prejudice, but a man had to draw the line somewhere.