A/N: Please don't make a drinking game out of this fic because you will die. Also, I may or may not have plans on hopefully expanding on this so stay tuned!
A/N 2: There's a bit of ~sciencey~ stuff near the end that I'm not 100% is completely correct so if I'm wrong in my facts, please let me know & I'll edit this story accordingly!
Victor held the phone in his hand, mulling it over as if it was a foreign object to him and he was curious as to how to use it.
Monster to monster.
The words he had said to Ruby replayed over and over in his mind, about as many times as the words she had said to him.
I ate my boyfriend.
He smirks to himself and opens his phone and scrolls through his contacts to find her name. Ruby Lucas. She had entered in her full name when she put her number in. Whale pauses for a moment before editing to change it. Red. No. He erases the name; he didn't want to list her as something every body else called her. Ruby, Red, hey waitress. Something unique. Monster. Save changes. Better. He exits out of the contact list and rotates the phone in his hand again.
Monster to monster.
I ate my boyfriend.
A sigh escapes his lips as he moves to lie down on the couch, putting an arm behind his head. He's been staring at his phone, flipping it over and over in his hand, for what seems like hours now. Upside-down, rightside-up, backwards, frontwards. If phone turning was a sport he'd have the gold medal andhave an entry in the Guinness Book of World Records. Did Storybrooke residents even qualify to be an entrant in the Guinness Book? Technically they didn't even belong to this world, so probably not.
I ate my boyfriend.
Monster to monster.
Victor opens his contacts again, scrolls to her name. Monster. If he had a nickel for every time he's repeated this process, a penny even, he'd probably be the richest man in Storybrooke. Storybrooke, story book. How was he just now making this connection? He exits out of his contacts and throws his arm over his eyes. He wishes he knew what this feeling was. Why he couldn't bring up the courage to write a simple text. When he had gotten home, he had taken his phone out of his pants pocket, effortlessly got to her name and opened a new text message, and then froze and sat down on the couch as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say to her. Thank you? I'm home and alive? Wut r u wearing?
I'm a werewolf.
I ate my boyfriend.
Monster to monster.
The phone in his hand is resting right against his ear as it makes a noise that sounds like a siren in the pin-drop silence of the room and Whale is so startled he falls right off the couch and onto the floor. He winces as he hits the ground. The drop from the couch to the floor wasn't a big one, but since he had had an arm behind his head as he went down, his upper arm and elbow had hit the floor before the rest of his body did. He was positive that was going to hurt for a while. He glances at his phone. Seven percent battery. Good. In pain and having to make a mad dash from the floor of the living room to his bed in the bedroom, which is where he kept the charger. Well, he didn't keep the charger in his bed. He kept it on his bedside table, but that had to be an obvious assumption, right?
He plugs his phone in and lets out the breath he doesn't realize he's been holding. Monster to monster marathon runner. Almost a haiku, Victor was sure of it. Not that he had any plans of writing poetry. That would be stupid. Maybe Ruby likes stupid. His eyes never leave the phone on his nightstand as he removes his pants and dress shirt. The phone has become a crutch and he realizes he must leave it for more than two seconds while he runs through his before-bed routine.
She gave us a chance to start over.
I wanna take it.
You should too.
Monster to monster.
He crawls into bed, his back against the headboard and legs outstretched in front of him. He picks up the phone and scrolls through his contacts. Monster. Whale thought that maybe a break away from staring at the small screen would clear his mind. Fresh breath, clean face, empty bowels, why couldn't he have a clear head to go with the set? Ruby. Ruby. Red. Red. Monster. Monster. I ate my boyfriend. It was an endless cycle. Did this happen to normal people every time a friend stopped them from jumping into ice cold waters? He'd like to know how they stopped it.
The clock on the wall tells him it's after midnight. So do the numbers in the corner of his phone. It's probably too late to send any kind of text messages, but he can't bring himself to exit his contact list this time so he's left with just staring at her name on his screen. New text message. [thanks again for saving my life] No. Backspace. [how many boyf-] Backspace again. Too soon. He pulls the blankets over his legs and sets the phone in his lap for a few moments before picking it up again. This is the one. [hey monster, about to go to bed thought i'd send you a line. i was thinking about that gregory guy. did you know gregor mendel was a famous scientist who studied pea plants and that his work led to the discovery of genetics? coincidence?] Send. Then, as if it was an afterthought, he typed again. [thanks for using your werewolf speed tonight]Send. Satisfied, he set the phone back on the bedside table, turned off the light, scooted down to lay on his side and finally rest his head on his pillow.
His eyes have just closed when he hears a beep. He snatches his phone from its resting spot so quickly the charger falls out. He hastily plugs it back in before opening the new text message. [hey monster, i'm sure gregory is a popular name. who knows, maybe mendel is too. our guy looks nothing like a scientist. though to be honest, you're the only scientist i know and you're mad. so i guess you could say our guy looks nothing like a mad scientist.] [i'm sure you would've done the same for me if you had werewolf powers. monsters unite! sleep well, frankenstein.]
Victor reads both text messages over a dozen times each, willing himself not to smile. Smiling feels weird and foreign on his lips.
You're the only scientist I know and you're mad.
He can practically hear the words pouring out of her mouth. How is it that he spent all night trying to compose two texts and she had replied to him in under two minutes? Perhaps their brains worked differently. She was a werewolf with werewolf speed, that could possibly mean that her brain worked faster than most. Yes. That had to be it. Reply. [am i really mad though?] [you too, red] Less than a minute passed before his phone beeped her reply. [all the best people are.]
You're mad.
All the best people are.
Monster to monster.
He sets the phone back on his nightstand, leaving her last reply unanswered. There's that foreign feeling again, only it's not just on his face. It's spread down his chest and into the deepest pits of his stomach. Maybe he'll ask somebody about it in the morning. For now he brings the covers up under his chin and falls asleep, a smile glued to his face.
Maybe there's still some stuff you can fix.