No Good at Goodbyes

Chapter 3: Three Weeks

Author's Note: Sitting in a virtual training right now, so you get a nice early chapter today :) Keep your thoughts (and votes heh) coming!

Chapter 3: Three Weeks

Kevin pulled up to Scott's house a week later, having become increasingly uneasy with each passing day since his conversation with Mitch.

He knew that he was among the last people Scott would want to see, but he had to lay eyes on the blond, just once, to make sure that the man was alright.

That his brother, his family, was alright.

Nobody answered as he knocked. He waited, eyeing the cars in the driveway. He knocked again, louder this time.

He grew impatient quickly, pulling out his phone and finding Mark's number.

He heard a ringtone blare from inside, followed by a muffled "shit... sorry, babe," from Mark.

"I know you're in there!" Kevin called, unable to contain his frustration anymore.

The door swung open a moment later, revealing an angry Mark Manio.

"Leave him alone. Why is this so hard?"

Kevin was shocked. He had never heard Mark be so... upfront. He looked tired, his face etched into a permanent grimace. He looked completely different from the happy and sweet man that Kevin had grown to love over the years.

Kevin pushed through the front door anyway, etiquette be damned.

Mark protested loudly as Kevin searched a few rooms, finally laying eyes on Scott after a few moments. Scott stood from his place on the couch abruptly in surprise, backing away from him.

Kevin felt his heart shatter into tiny shards at the sight of his old friend. His blue eyes looked like they had been rubbed raw, blood vessels inflamed within them, and surrounded by deep blue circles, as though he had been punched in both eyes. His hair was a mess, knotted and slightly greasy.

His face was gaunt, as though he had lost an alarming amount of weight in two weeks.

And he was pale. So very pale.

"Kevin, let me talk to you... please?" Mark asked, gripping the larger man's arm. Kevin had difficulty peeling his eyes away from the sight, as though he was watching a trainwreck in slow motion.

"Okay," Kevin finally complied in a whisper, following Mark into the kitchen.

"This isn't good for him. You need to leave him alone. Please. I'm begging you," Mark started, sounding desperate.

"Has he been sleeping? Eating?" Kevin asked, ignoring the comment.

Mark glared at him for a moment, before allowing his eyes to soften. "Minimally. He's hanging on by a thread."

"Let me talk to him."

Mark shook his head. "You're going to be the death of him, Kev. Both of you. No. All four of you. He's trying desperately to hang on, but I actually think he's getting worse. And if you want to help him so badly, why aren't you defending him?"

"Defending him? From what?"

Mark rolled his eyes, scoffing. "There's no way you haven't seen it."

Kevin crossed his arms across his chest, urging the younger man to continue. "He's getting all of the blame. All of it."

"...why?"

"I don't know, Kev. Because fans have created this conspiracy theory that he's a monster? That he chased you guys out because he's a horrible person to be around? That you had had enough of him?"