*****Hey everyone! Sorry this chapter took so long to upload, I've been really busy recently, and this one's quite a doozy. A HUGE thank you to everyone reading and writing reviews and supporting my writing! Hopefully you enjoy!****
[Scott's PoV]
He ripped open the door to Mitch's bedroom, his mind simultaneously racing with worst-case scenarios, and completely unable to form a coherent thought. When his eyes fell on Mitch, Scott felt all of the breath leave his lungs in a rush.
Mitch sat on the bed with the covers flung aside and his knees drawn up. His hands were pressed over his ears and he rocked back and forth slightly.
He screamed again, his eyes pinching closed tightly, and Scott jerked into motion. In a heartbeat he had rushed to Mitch's side, dropping onto the bed. He felt numb with shock, unable to feel anything except the pit where his stomach should be.
"Mitch? Mitch it's me, what's going on?" Words tumbled from his mouth as his hands fluttered about Mitch uselessly. "Mitch, please, can you hear me?" Scott tried again, and he lightly grabbed Mitch's wrists, trying to ease them off of his ears
"Mitch, it's me, it's Scott. I'm here." Scott was panicking. Mitch's screams had stopped, but he shook violently, continuing to gasp and cry. Scott's thoughts were blown to hell, and he knew that Mitch needed help, but he had never felt so helpless. Finally he reached out, encircling Mitch's fragile body with his arms.
Mitch jerked, struggling for a terrible moment against Scott's grip.
"Please Mitch," Scott tightened his arms, tears now spilling from his eyes as he began to pray to every god he knew, begging them to bring Mitch back to him. "It's me Mitch, I'm here. Please, please, be alright. It's all gonna be alright, just, please Mitch, please answer me."
Scott clutched Mitch to his chest, feeling him trembling in his embrace. He had no idea what was happening, but he knew something was seriously wrong. Mitch seemed petrified with fear, and was acting if Scott wasn't even there.
"Mitch," Scott's voice cracked, "I don't know what to do, and I feel so useless. Tell me how to help you Mitchie." He sucked in a breath, but felt Mitch's shaking beginning to calm. "Mitch?" He bent down, trying to see his face.
"That's it," he decided, "I need to, to call someone. You might need a doctor, or-" Scott began to stand, pulling himself away from Mitch, but was stopped short when something caught his arm.
"No!" Mitch cried suddenly, his fingers wrapped tightly around Scott's forearm. He finally looked at Scott, staring up at him with wide, glassy eyes. "Don't go," he said, his voice a barely audible rasp.
The rush of relief Scott felt swell inside of him made him begin to cry anew. He hesitated for a moment, still wanting to run for the phone, but a final glance down at Mitch changed his mind. He looked so scared, so broken, and Scott knew he couldn't leave him. He sank back down beside Mitch, gasping softly when he fell into his arms. Mitch buried his face against Scott's chest, still trembling slightly.
"Mitch?" Scott tried again, "Are you alright?" But Mitch didn't respond, he only let out a quiet sob and pressed harder against Scott.
"It's okay, I got you." Scott's hands travelled over Mitch's body, smoothing his hair, stroking his arms, trailing his fingertips down Mitch's spine. "I'm not leaving you, okay? You're gonna be alright."
For what felt like centuries, Scott held Mitch, gently rocking and soothing him until Mitch slid into a fervent sleep. Scott stayed with him, his heart and mind still reeling from the shock of it all, until, exhausted and warmed by the heat of Mitch's body, Scott let himself drift off.
[Mitch's PoV]
When Mitch woke the next day in Scott's arms, he finally realized how much he loved him.
He had relied on Scott, missed him, cared for him, needed him, and wanted him for so long, but he never expected to fall in love with him. He didn't think he was capable of really loving anyone, and he had promised himself that he wasn't going to fall for Scott. Now, however, as he lay wrapped in Scott's warmth, listening to the drum of his heartbeat and feeling Scott's chest expand and contract against him with each breath, he knew. He knew that he could stay like this for the rest of his life.
"Mitch?" Scott stirred suddenly, starting to sit up. "Mitch, are you awake?"
"Yeah," he admitted, wishing they could just fall back asleep and ignore the world for a little while longer.
Scott pulled himself up enough to look down into Mitch's face, leaning over him as relief flooded his bright blue eyes. He reached out, stroking Mitch's face hesitantly. Mitch closed his eyes, wanting to memorize the feeling of Scott's fingertips caressing his cheek.
"Mitch," Scott breathed, and Mitch arched into his touch as he leaned closer, their lips ghosting only inches apart. Mitch's eyes flew open when Scott pulled away, disentangling himself from Mitch as he sat up on the edge of the bed.
"Mitch," he said again, clearing his throat, "I was so worried, I… Listen, what happened last night?"
What happened indeed? Mitch sighed at the loss of contact, sitting up and rubbing his temples groggily. He focused on recollecting the events of last night. Mitch jumped when images of his father and Caine filled his head, their distorted, nightmarish shapes fresh in his mind. He could almost see his old home, feel his father's bruising hands and Caine's demanding lips, hear all of his old roommates telling him that they couldn't take it anymore. He remembered being unable to breathe, not being able to escape the nightmare when he awoke.
"It was a, uh, a kind of panic attack," he managed finally. "I used to h-have them in high school." Mitch let his eyes wander to Scott, who now faced away from him, running a hand through his pale blond hair.
"I'm so sorry," Mitch went on, "I keep freaking you out. I haven't had an attack like this in… in a long time. I'm sorry that I scared you." Mitch wrung his hands anxiously, growing panicked by Scott's silence. "Scott," his voice wavered and he drew a breath, trying to remain composed. "What is it? Please, I'm sorry I worried you." Tears began to well up in his eyes, but he couldn't' stop talking. He had to fill the terrible silence, unable to bear its crushing weight. "Scott I know I'm a fucking mess and I keep causing you so much fucking trouble but please, please talk to me."
Scott did, still not looking at Mitch as he muttered, "I didn't know you had panic attacks." He turned, dark circles stamped under his soft, ocean-colored eyes. "I told myself," he continued, "that I was going to get over you. That I was not going to keep pining after you and keep my distance." Scott covered his face with his hands, shaking his head slowly.
"But last night," he looked up, one hand drifting up to cup Mitch's face ever-so-softly, "I considered jumping off the fucking balcony, but I couldn't do it. Then I heard you scream, and my heart stopped. I started to think of anything and everything that could've happened to you, and I was so scared, Mitch."
Mitch realized he was holding his breath, and let it out slowly, terrified that if he spoke now, he would somehow ruin this fragile little moment.
"And when I found you last night," Scott stared into Mitch's eyes as if he was seeing through Mitch, gazing past his skin and into his soul, 'Not knowing what to do, or what was happening, I knew that I could never get over you. You mean so, so much to me, and even if I don't want to feel that way, I can't change it."
Scott's hand trembled against his skin, and slowly, still afraid of scaring him off, Mitch reached out, wrapping his arms around Scott gently. He pulled Scott against him, one arm encircling his neck while the other clutched the back of Scott's head. Scott relaxed, hugging him back tightly, his face buried in Mitch's neck. Mitch bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut when he felt Scott's shoulders shaking.
Scott pulled back after a while, placing his large hands firmly on Mitch's shoulders as he cleared his throat.
"Mitch," he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, "I'm sick of this. I want to know more about you, and I know you don't want to talk about your past, but please, I want to know."
Mitch looked up into his pleading gaze, then down to where his hands were folded in his lap.
"Mitch," Scott squeezed his shoulders as he shook his head helplessly, "I am in love with you." Mitch's eyes widened, but Scott continued before he could speak. "Completely, hopelessly in love with you. And when I promised you that I'd never leave you, I meant it. I love you so much its killing me. I love you, and that's why I don't mind that you treat me the way you do, but damn it Mitch, I hate not knowing anything about you. I want to help you, and I won't know how unless you trust me."
"Scott," Mitch continued to stare at his hands, not letting himself look at him, "Don't say that, you shouldn't… You shouldn't love someone like me." His heart ached, Scott was so sweet, so fragile, he didn't deserve to be stuck with such a train wreck. He had always assumed that Scott would leave him like everyone else he had let himself care about, but now he saw that Scott was different. He was so kind, and so unbelievably caring. Scott would put everyone else before himself, even someone who had hurt him, someone like Mitch.
"Maybe I shouldn't," Scott's hands slid down Mitch's arms tortuously slow until they found his hands, "But I do. I know that you've gone through some terrible shit, but keeping it to yourself will only make things worse. Listen Mitch," he took a deep breath, "I've done everything you've ever wanted, and I'll keep doing it for as long as you'll let me, but we can't go on like this, with you only needing me when you're too drunk to walk and ignoring me in the morning." His voice cracked, "And I know that I'm not good enough for you, and th-that you must think s-so little of me-"
"No!" Mitch cut him off, unable to bear the pain in his eyes. "Scott, you mean the world to me," he cradled Scott's face in his delicate hands, "I don't 'toss you aside' after I've, well, you know, it's just that once I sober up I hate myself for what I'm doing to you, and I try to distance myself because I don't deserve you. Scott i-" Mitch struggled to breathe evenly, stopping himself before he said something he wouldn't be able to take back.
"You say you love me," he continued, "But you wouldn't if you knew… what you want to know. My past…" he trailed off, "Scott, I'm a mess, a total piece of shit. Trust me, you don't really want to know."
Scott reached up, holding Mitch's hands to his face shyly. "Do you really care about me?"
"Of course I do, Scott," Mitch breathed, "You're kind, and funny and an amazing singer, and you deserve someone perfect, not a broken, useless alcoholic." He pulled his hands away, rubbing his eyes with a sigh. "Go find someone who deserves you Scott. Someone sweet and kind who makes you laugh. Find them and love them and forget all the shit I've dragged you through." Mitch stood, wanting to get himself out of the room as fast as possible. He had been running for years, and the demons at his heels were growing far too close, their razor sharp claws reaching out to him in the pale hours of the morning, waiting to catch him off guard, to remind him of all the things he was running from.
"No!" Scott leaped up, darting around Mitch's bed to block his way. "We're not doing this anymore!" he yelled. "We're not getting so close to being honest with each other and then running away. I'm not letting you run from me anymore Mitch."
Mitch's eyes widened at Scott's outburst, but he let him lead him back to his bead. They sat, Scott's sweatpants brushing against Mitch's mostly-bare leg.
Mitch stared into Scott's pleading gaze for a long time before he sighed in defeat. "You wanna know my story Scott?" He asked with a sharp laugh. "Well, alright."
