Hello, and welcome back.

xxx

...And that was all. From there forward, there was nothing; only spotty memories of white lights and people in masks.

Mitch looked up as Scott inhaled and woke. He rubbed his eyes, sat up in his place by the side of the bed, and gave Mitch a sleepy smile. "Why aren't you asleep?" He consulted his watch, "It's 2:00AM."

"Couldn't." He adjusted the position of his arm and turned his body toward Scott, wincing as his hips rotated so he was partially on his side. "I was just thinking."

"What about?" Scott leaned his elbows on his knees.

"The night. When this happened." He gestured at his bandages, which were concealed under his hospital gown, "Or, remembering, I guess."

Scott sobered and bit his lip, then carefully asked, "How much of it do you remember?"

"A lot."

"Like what?"

"I remember you guys trying to help me. Feeling like I was drowning in my own blood." His face darkened with shadow, and his eyes focused on something past Scott's face as he thoughtfully bit the inside of his cheek, "I remember that it was raining. I heard somewhere that when you're afraid like that, like I was, your brain captures every detail. Flashbulb memories, they're called. I remember Kirstie's lipstick color. Which hat you were wearing. The way the blood made shapes on your chin where you wiped it with the back of your hand."

He felt sick, "Do you remember that bastard? I swear I wish I could fucking kill him." Scott suddenly was seething in anger, "How could anyone be so hateful? Just because other people are living in a way they don't like."

"Mmm." Mitch hummed thoughtfully, not really able to hate the man the way Scott did. He felt a bit detached, almost like it didn't fully hit him yet; a man tried to murder him because he was gay. Because of his voice. It was surreal. He remembered that too: the man's expression of hateful, sick purpose. Maybe he was already prejudiced against people like him, and the drunkenness had filled him with anger, and influenced him to act.

"It was my fault."

Mitch frowned, "What?"

"All that hate, all the rage he had toward you. Because of your voice. Because of assumptions he made," Scott bit his lip, fighting back tears, "You ran into him because I was being stupid."

"No. I don't want you to think that way. There was nothing we could have done."

"If we'd just kept walking you'd be fine. We would have gotten to the damn restaurant, gotten some Chipotle, and that would be it. If it didn't happen, we'd be home making some stupid youtube video or something."

"Tuesday's tomorrow. Right?"

"It's Monday morning Isn't it.? Yeah, I guess."

"Are you gonna make a Superfruit video?"

Scott rubbed his forehead. "Do you want to?"

"I don't know. I look like shit. Maybe you could? Tell everyone what's happening?"

"No, I don't wanna make one without you. Superfruit isn't Superfruit without both of us."

"Yeah. I just thought. Maybe we owe it to them? The fans?"

Scott touched Mitch's hand, "I don't think they'll mind if we stop for a while. You need to get better."

Mitch nodded, his eyes falling to the big, strong hand over his tattooed one. He felt safe when Scott was beside him. When he was touching him. The warmth and security of that hand, and Mitch felt like everything was going to be all right. With Scott beside him he knew he could be strong. He could get through this.

A picture flashed in his head, another memory. A tall, broad body being shot instead, the blood that ran into the water on the ground being Scott's instead of Mitch's. It was a memory of a thought that he'd had, almost the same instant he'd fallen onto Kirstie's lap. He remembered even feeling a shred of relief in that moment. If he wouldn't make it, at least he'd saved his friends.

"Why are you crying?" Scott squeezed Mitch's hand.

"I don't know." He laughed and wiped the tears with the back of his free hand, "I guess because I'm glad it wasn't you that got shot. Or Kirstie. I can deal with this, but I don't think I could deal with it if it had been you."

"Really? It should have been me. I wish it had been me. It hurts more to see you like this than it would if I'd been shot."

Mitch just smiled tearfully up at him. Scott looked so beautiful in this light, with his rugged features, shaggy stubble, and strong jawline. His blue, blue eyes were glistening with tears of his own, filling them with a kind of light. "I love you Scott." He said quietly.

"What?" He looked up, his brow creasing in a puzzled frown.

"I'm so glad you're here, and I wouldn't want anyone else here with me. You're the most amazing person."

They'd often joked around, saying they loved each other as they goofed together. Laughed together. But now, Mitch seemed completely serious, his eyes set dead straight on his, his expression one of determination. Scott wanted to say it back so badly. Did Mitch mean it? "I love you too, Mitch." He said with equal certainty.

Then there was a moment of frozen silence, both of them holding the gaze. Was it real? What now? Mitch's eyes finally fell to Scott's lips, his face almost glowing with beauty.

So Scott leaned in, a fraction of an inch at a time. It was slow, with plenty of time to back out if it didn't feel right. But both of them wanted this so badly. Mitch just lied there, waiting, wanting, those eyes moving back to meet Scott's, and a smile slowly warmed his face. God, he had a beautiful smile.

"Can I kiss you?" Scott whispered softly.

For a moment, Mitch only looked at him, analyzing the question, then nodded slowly. His hand hesitantly went to meet the side of Scott's face. Blue eyes met brown, and time stood still. There was no more pain, no more struggle to breathe, no more beeping monitors. Just them, trapped in each other's gaze.

Scott closed his eyes for a few moments and just felt the warmth of his soft touch, then leaned in. Their lips touched with almost feather light, gentle pressure at first, as if they were cautious, carefully exploring each other's boundaries. Then the kiss deepened. Mitch's hand moved to his hair, his fingers combing through his blonde locks. He could feel Scott's warm breath against his cheek as he exhaled, forgetting completely about the breathing tube between their faces. It just felt so amazingly perfect. So meant to be.

Mitch let out a sigh, which ended up in Scott's mouth. The blonde laughed into Mitch's and they pulled apart, both smiling. They connected again as quickly as they pulled apart, this time abandoning the innocence. Mitch's other arm wrapped around Scott's broad shoulders, and Scott moved from the chair to sit on the mattress, his own hands finding Mitch's thin form. He could feel the muscles in his arms moving under the skin as Scott helped him rise from the pillow to meet his chest with his own, holding him tightly against his body. Those familiar breaths, which they both knew almost as well as their own, now were being shared more than they ever thought they could be. They could smell each other, even taste each other, feel each other's heartbeats through their clothes. Mitch's heart was pounding furiously, in syncopation with Scott's. They both beat together, their hearts as close together as was humanly possible. They were almost touching.

Then, at the same instant, Mitch recoiled in pain and the monitor alarm went off.

"Are you okay?" Scott pulled away.

Mitch was panting, his eyes closed and his hand against his ribcage. "Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, just," He took a ragged inhale, "I think I moved too much."

Scott touched the hand where it was clasped over the wound, "How much does it hurt?" He imagined that hole gaping open, pouring blood again, and his own chest ached in sympathy, "What can I do?"

"It's fine. The nurse will be here in a second. The alarm went off."

"Kay," Scott moved back to the chair and leaned his elbows on his knees.

A nurse came in after a few moments, her face a mask of concern, "What happened?" She circled around the bed to kill the alarm, her scrub pants making a brushing noise as she walked. She looked exhausted, her day-old ponytail slightly askew, as if she'd been napping, but she kindly touched Mitch's shoulder.

"It's fine. I just moved too much," Mitch didn't exactly lie. He gave Scott a look, but a smile was hidden in his eyes, "Must have strained it."