Mitch?" Scott normally didn't interrupt him when he sat with his eyes closed and his head in his hands, but he felt it was necessary.

"Hmm?"

"Your parents are coming. They want to know how you're doing." He tried to break it gently.

"Christ. Can't they leave me alone for a fucking week?"

Scott winced like a kicked puppy. It hurt him to hear the pain-induced rage in that beautiful voice. It didn't sound like him. "Hey. Are you okay?" He tried to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

"Please. I can't right now."

"Mitch. Let me help you. What you're doing, it can't be good. Please let me get you your meds."

"Fuck off." The way he said those words, with such fury, they hit Scott's heart like knives.

"You want me to leave?" He offered.

Mitch gave no response, so Scott stood and put his hands in his pockets. Mitch was so angry all the time, and the romance they'd shared just a few weeks ago, those magical nights of shared sleep, the kisses in the dark, the tender forehead kisses and warm embraces, those were gone. Scott felt hated. It was the polar opposite of what his life with Mitch should be, and it hurt him so deeply, he was nauseous. What would he say when he found out he'd betrayed his trust and consulted the Grassis? What would happen to their relationship? Would he ever be forgiven? It was so unfair. Scott found himself thinking his deepest, darkest fears, and they all involved losing Mitch.

He didn't know what else to do, so he went to find shoes, gathered his wallet and keys, and left for a drive. He had to clear his head before the tears that swelled behind his eyes came in a torrent. Once outside, he slammed his forehead against the steering wheel, the emotions coming one after the other, blotting out his senses. Each one was more painful than the last. Confusion. Helplessness. Betrayal. Guilt. Anger. Crippling anxiety. Misery. They wouldn't stop.

So he did what he knew would help, and dialed Avi's number.

"Hello?"

Avi's voice was instantly comforting, and Scott controlled himself enough to speak evenly, "Hi. I just wanted to talk to someone."

It didn't work. Somehow, the bassist could sense the heartbreak, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He lied. He didn't really feel like spilling it. He felt like this was something he had to keep to himself. He just needed to say pointless things, "How are you?"

"Good. Fine. How's Mitch doing?" He was so kindhearted, and his gentle tone almost made Scott tell everything. Horrible. He hates me. He is hurting so much, he's not himself. He's lashing out at everyone, and I don't know what to do. I just feel so lost.

But he didn't. "Fine. He's still getting over it, but what do you expect?"

"I guess. Can I do anything?"

"Yes. You wanna grab a drink?"

Xxx

They both ended up at a nearby bar and the two sat together, beer bottles in front of them and the air heavy with tension. Of course Avi could tell something was wrong, and he tried to get it out of him for a good while before settling for what little Scott admitted.

"Things are tough. Mitch is different now, and I am having a rough time getting used to it. I guess I just wish things could go back to the way they were." He picked up his beer, but set it down again for the umteenth time without sipping. For some reason the need for the pain to go away wasn't as strong as the need to stay sober and deal with it.

"I get it. Things will get better." Avi sympathized. He was wearing that old beanie he was so fond of, a plaid button-up over a plain tee, and some dark wash jeans. His hair had grown quite a bit, and Scott realized he hadn't seen him in a while, "Where is he now?" Avi asked, sipping from his bottle.

"Home. Sleeping, I guess." He rubbed his eyes, "I probably shouldn't have left him there, but I had to get out of that house."

"It's really cool of you to stay with him like that," Avi smiled, "Sometimes I'm jealous of how great friends you two are."

Oh yeah. Avi didn't know about their relationship. Scott thought better of mentioning it; that aspect of their lives could change as soon as Mitch found out about what he'd said to his parents. Instead he smiled numbly, his eyes glossed as he imagined the fight they'd have, "How's songwriting?"

"I haven't been writing much. Mario wanted to do another cover, so that's fun."

"Mmm," Scott didn't register what he'd said. His mind was far away. He couldn't shake the feeling that he shouldn't have left Mitch alone. What if something had happened?

"You sure you're okay? You're awfully distant tonight, and you haven't touched your drink." Avi put a hand on his shoulder, bringing him from his thoughts, "Scott, I wish you'd tell me what's wrong." His eyes were fixed on his, his earnest features etched with concern, and he seemed like he was genuinely empathetic.

Suddenly Scott's text tone went off.

He slid it from his pocket, then put it back again when he saw who it was.

"Who was that?"

"Mitch," He folded his arms on the table.

"Aren't you gonna answer it?" Avi sipped from his drink again.

He didn't want to. Mitch had hurt him with his words, and he wasn't sure he was ready to face the never ending anger again. But he pulled the device from his pocket and opened the text, the guilt finally getting to him.

I need you.

What the hell? Another speech bubble popped up,

Can you call me?

Scott was miffed. What could he need? He sure didn't need him half an hour ago.

Please

"I need to make a call," Scott rose from the table and made his way past other people until he was outside. The air, though warm for November, had a little bit of a bite to it. Somehow it filled him with foreboding, "Mitch?"

"Scott?"

The cold hand of fear gripped his heart. The voice on the other end of the line was scared and small. He sounded different. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the quality of the voice on the phone scared him.

Something was very wrong.

"Can you come home?"

Scott was already making his way toward the car, "I'm coming. What's wrong?"

"I did something bad, Scott. Please hurry."

Scott couldn't breathe past the lump in his throat. He started the car and backed it out of the parking lot with record speed, "What's wrong, Mitch? Tell me."

The line went dead.