Chapter Text
Sometimes, being near the Ranch broke Scott’s heart. As he watched two men raise animals and farm together, his mind would wander back to days of Hobbit holes and poppy flowers. Days when he felt loved and cherished, even against the world’s design. As though he was worth destroying the rules of the very world around them. Worth living and dying for, protecting even when the very nature of going red would have made Jimmy more likely to attack than defend.
And when he would see Jimmy throwing his head back in laughter at something Tango said, Scott’s breath would catch at the beauty of it all. A moment later, just as he was enjoying the sight, his heart would shatter at the crushing realization: that used to be him. He used to be the reason for the spark of joy in Jimmy’s eyes.
But for all that he longed for the past, Scott couldn’t truly begrudge either of the other men their happiness. Because they were loved. Jimmy was loved.
And Scott wanted nothing more than to see his husband loved and happy.
Even if it wasn’t with him. Even when it hurt Scott so deeply.
That’s why the chest that appeared outside of his home with a single poppy inside surprised him, doubly so when he read the small note signed by both Jimmy and Tango.
After all, why would he expect to receive a gift from anyone? Let alone his husband and the man’s soulmate? There was a surprise to finding such a sweet note signed by two men that should, for the sake of their relationship, avoid or even abhor Scott. Which apparently, they didn’t. Apparently they instead seemed to care for Scott.
And what a thought that was. That someone would care.
This whole game was supposed to have built in partners, someone who would keep you company throughout the difficulties of the death game. Somehow, Scott had messed that all up right from the start.
Cleo had been a very dear friend, the two deeming each other soulmates in the absence of their own at the beginning of this death game. A continuation of a promise from lifetimes ago to team with each other in the event they lost their partners. But even she had begun to drift away when Martyn had begun trying to mend things between them. After all, he had put in such an effort to show her the devotion that she had envied from other soulmate pairs, Scott couldn’t blame Cleo for her desire to feel wanted. After all, wasn’t that what he desired now?
But Scott had spurned his own soulmate, pushing away his former alliance with Pearl, not wanting to feel the pull in his soul that took away the choice of their teamwork in Last Life. He adored Pearl, but the way their souls were now stitched together destroyed the autonomy and individuality that had made their partnership work so well in the past. If anything, the way Pearl had deteriorated without Scott worried him more, implying that it was only a matter of time until he too was so obsessed with his soulmate and their pain that he began to harm them just to feel anything.
And now Jimmy and Tango had sent him a gift. As though Scott’s thoughts had been prayers, heard by some deity above. The words “Ranch tonight? Dinner at seven? - Jimmy and Tango” scrawled on the note tied to the single poppy that had caused his breath to catch the first time he read them. Every once in a while, throughout the afternoon, Scott had held the flower close to his chest, feeling the thudding of his heart as he tried desperately to stop the hope spreading in his soul.
Cleo visited once for a chat during that afternoon, causing Scott to hide the poppy and note in a spare barrel that he had, not wanting to reveal the item to her, like a protective dragon with a hoard. Like it would only stay precious if he hid it away. As though sharing the existence of it would ruin it in some way. He knew Cleo would remind him of their situation and warn him to be careful. He knew that she would be right. That didn’t change the fact that he wanted more than anything for the note to truly be some kind of extension of either friendship or flirtation. In the quiet of his mind, he could only dream that it would be a flirtation.
Still, Scott cleaned himself up as much as was possible in the middle of a game like this. Making himself presentable for the slight chance that this flower meant what he hoped. As the time drew nearer, he set out for the Ranch, staying quiet and mostly out of sight on his way over, not wanting to get caught up in conversation and be late.
Seeing the entryway of the ranch coming into view, Scott gripped the poppy stem tightly and took a deep breath to prepare himself. Especially since he could see the shapes of two men near the gate, waiting for someone to arrive.