"I've gotta say, this is all your fault," Scott said, turning on his best friend.
Mitch didn't respond. He was freezing, his cheeks flushed and snow settling repeatedly in his hair. He would have brushed it off, but he'd given that up long ago. Now it was all he could do to keep walking.
"We're in the middle of nowhere," began Scott. "Our car won't start. My phone doesn't work, and you've conveniently forgotten yours at home."
Mitch's leather boots were soaked through and the laces hung limply down, caked with snow. He stumbled along, either too cold to talk or feeling awfully put down.
They walked on in silence, the road slathered with wet snow, sheets more coming down on the freezing pair. It really wasn't Mitch's fault, but in the moment, Scott needed to blame someone. Sure, it had been Mitch's idea to explore, but he had no idea that the roads would be that terrible. They were miles and miles away from anything, and their car wouldn't work, either from lack of gasoline or the cold.
Scott bit his lip. Mitch looked so small and terrified, breathing on his hands and barely stepping on. And the tenor was just taking everything Scott flung at him, keeping quiet, feeling like it was all his fault. "I'm really sorry," Scott said. "I didn't mean it. Its just as much my fault. I-"
"I j-just want to find someone, or s-something," Mitch stuttered. "D-do you really think it m-matters who's fault it is?"
Scott stopped. It did seem horribly mundane to blame it on someone when Mitch was thinking of survival. "You're right, we should-"
"C-can you just stop?" asked Mitch, his voice barely a whisper in the howling wind. The tenor's whole body shook and he yanked his thin sweater tighter around his small form.
Scott knew that he shouldn't use up his energy on trying to apologize, but the words still stung.
After what seemed like hours, the two finally stopped at a patch of ground without snow, under a thick grove of trees. The ground was still frozen solid, but it was the best they could find.
Mitch collapsed the moment they were sheltered, pressing up against a tree for warmth and hugging his knees.
Scott sat on the other side of the clearing. He was still hating himself for making Mitch feel so awful. He looked at the little tenor, who was shaking with cold. Who wasn't even looking up. Who seemed even smaller than usual. Who was silent. Scott almost cried, because Mitch was usually there, laughing, and singing broadway. And hugging him, Scott, who'd shunned the tiny man just when they'd needed each other most.
"Do you th-think we'll d-die?" asked Mitch quietly. He was at the point where he couldn't move, even if he wanted to.
"No," Scott answered. In fact, he wasn't sure. "We're going to wake up and be at home. Someone's bound to find us."
Mitch laughed, a sad little hopeless laugh. "A-are we?" He was shivering all over.
"Yeah," Scott said, shivering a bit himself. "If we stay together, we'll be warmer." He moved over to Mitch and pressed against him.
Mitch nodded slightly in consent.
They stayed that way for a while more, the snow falling all around their clearing. Some was even drifting in.
Eventually, Scott realized that they weren't going to make it much longer without getting help. He looked over at Mitch, who was slumped oddly against him.
Mitch was slowly losing consciousness. He struggled to keep his eyes open.
Scott grabbed Mitch, shaking him. "Don't go, come on," he said, scared to death. He knew that if Mitch passed out, it would be over.
"Scott…" Mitch's voice was less than a whisper, so weak that Scott could barely hear it.
"I'm here," Scott said, firmly, ignoring the deathly cold. He wasn't surprised when he felt himself begin to cry.
"Hold me." Mitch's eyes fluttered open and closed rapidly. He was trying his best not to drift away.
Scott closed his eyes in despair, tears freezing on his cheeks. "It's okay, hold on."
But Mitch wasn't done. "Because…" his voice faded and he took a deep shuddering breath, concentrating on keeping his eyes open. "Because if this really is the end, I want you to be the last thing I see."
That tore Scott's heart out. He held the little tenor's limp form in his arms and pressed his face into the other's shoulder. When he finally looked up again, Mitch's eyes were closed, snowflakes settling in his dark hair.
The world spun to a stop. "Don't die," Scott whispered. The cold caught up with him and he started shivering. "You can't. Not now. I never got to tell you… I love you, Mitch. I'm still holding out for you. Please, wake up." Scott gently pressed his lips against the tenor's, wishing for one last chance.
Scott vaguely remembered a car, stopping. The snow was still raging down, and the red jeep was driving slowly. A girl stepped out, having seen the two lying in the middle of the storm. She must have called an ambulance.
When Scott fully woke up again, he was in a clean white bed. Not his, but he was warm again, and nothing else mattered to him in that moment. He saw the sinister machines, and finally realized that he must have been in the hospital. Slowly, images and memories came flooding back. He tried to get up, but someone pushed him back down. "Avi?" Scott asked faintly, seeing the beanie cap.
"I knew you were too tough to give up," Avi said, his deep voice clouded with emotion. There were tears welling in his green eyes.
"Where's the others?" asked Scott, feeling the panic of the last few hours. "How long have I been here?"
"It's about two in the morning," Avi said. "We got a call at ten."
Scott slowly processed that. It was still light when he faded away, so they must have spent hours in the freezing, forlorn clearing. "Is Kirstie here?"
"She's with Mitch," Avi said, worry in his eyes.
"Is he okay? Did he wake up?" Scott asked, a million thoughts racing through his head.
"He's fine," Avi said. "I haven't seen him in a while, but they said he'd live."
"Can, um, can we see him?" stammered Scott.
"Sure," Avi said, helping his friend out of bed.
They walked down the pristine corridors, a nurse tagging along. Her hair, pulled back into a tight ponytail, bobbed with every step she took. When they finally reached the door, she rapped loudly.
A worried Kevin appeared in the doorway, letting them in. But not before hugging Scott tightly. "Good to see you. You know, see you looking alive."
Kirstie, Esther, and a brigade of hospital staff stepped quietly away, clearing a path to the bed.
Mitch was curled up and looking smaller than ever. His hair was in complete disarray and his dark brown eyes were open just the tiniest sliver. But they were open!
"Mitch!" Scott exclaimed. He nearly hugged the tenor, but held back. Mitch was looking very fragile.
Mitch opened his eyes a bit more, and a small smile formed. "I love you, too."