Unwell.

1. All Day, Staring at the Ceiling

Author's Note: I gave you a whole day as a break from me, but I'm baaack. This one is different for me because it is more Mitch-centric. Don't worry, there's plenty of Scott and you'll see why. 

This fic is based HEAVILY on the song "Unwell" by Matchbox Twenty. Not sure if you all know it, but feel free to do a search of them if you don't know them, because their lyrics are some of the best I've heard.  Anyway, chapter titles will be lyrics from "Unwell". Enjoy!

1. All Day, Staring at the Ceiling

"Welcome to hell," a tall blond muttered, sitting at the edge of the bed on the far side of the too-white room.

"We'll leave you to it," the kind nurse offered gently, ignoring the man on the bed and handing Mitch a pillow and blanket before showing herself out.

"Gee, thanks," the smaller man returned the inappropriate greeting, laying his blanket on the closer of the two beds before jumping up to sit on its edge. His feet dangled haphazardly and he looked around the room.

Institutional. Blank. Too bright. And it looked like no one had lived here for years.

"What's your name, roomie?" the blond asked as he leaned forward, his eyes searching the newcomer.

"Mitch. Mitch Grassi."

"Nice to meet you, Mitch. I'm Scott."

"Nice to meet you, too. How long have you been here?"

"What?"

"How long have you been here?"

"Oh... not long."

The blond fell silent, and Mitch took this opportunity to survey his face.

He was attractive. Like... abnormally so. In fact, at first glance, the man was everything that Mitch had always looked for in a man. Tall, blond, blue-eyed, and muscular, with just a bit of scruff lining his sharp jawline. Someone who could throw him around a bit.

Mitch felt himself blush at the thought.

Peaking out beneath his t-shirt was a tattoo sleeve. Intricate flowers wove themselves around his bicep, accentuating the muscle there.

Mitch was mortified to find himself licking his lips just as the man looked back up at him. The blond smirked.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer."

"Oh, really? We're using lines from 1992 now?"

"Yep. Like what you see?"

Okay, first glance was exactly where the similarities between this man and the man of Mitch's dreams ended. Mitch scowled.

"I'm just kidding around. What are you in for?" Scott asked, and his smirk shifted into something softer.

Mitch shrugged. "My parents think I'm nuts. A danger to myself and others. You?"

"Same, I guess."

Mitch raised an eyebrow. He would have to dig deeper into this a bit later. "How old are you?"

"How old are you?" Scott replied.

Mitch laughed humorlessly. He really wasn't sure if he liked this guy. "You're weird. I'm nineteen."

"Of course I'm weird. We're all weird here. And anyway, I'm twenty."

"Well... I guess they put us in here together because they thought we'd get along? Maybe we can help each other?" Mitch offered.