Just for Show

21. Wedding Day

21. Wedding Day

Mitch entered his photography class a couple of minutes late, one Monday, junior year.

He took the seat next to his estranged friend from middle school, shooting him his quick smile of greeting, as he did every Monday.

But Scott's face was stony, and he looked past Mitch towards their teacher, who was explaining something that Mitch was certain Scott already knew.

After the lecture, the class broke into their individual work. Scott began to fiddle with his camera, unmoving from his place at the table.

"Is it broken?" Mitch asked. He didn't typically make conversation with the blond. It wasn't that he didn't like him, but simply that he didn't want to get too close to someone who was so frequently the target of his group of friends'... antics.

Scott's eyes snapped upwards and narrowed. He clenched his sharp jaw, giving a small nod.

"Lemme see..." Mitch said, growing more confused by Scott's behavior by the moment. The blond was typically quite calm and polite. He reached forward for the device, and Scott snapped his arm out of reach.

"Don't touch," Scott hissed. "And leave me alone."

Mitch put his hands up in defeat. "Fine. But I can probably help you..."

Scott scoffed. "When the fuck have you ever helped me?"

Mitch watched the taller boy leave the room with the camera in hand.

Mitch awoke with a start at the vivid clarity of the dream.

No, not a dream. A memory. A crystal clear memory. A crystal clear memory of the last words that Scott ever said to him in high school.

And yet, Mitch had shaken off that interaction so quickly, as though the other boy didn't matter.

And then, it clicked.

That was likely the Monday after Scott was thrown in that basement.

It all made sense, now. And it all would have made sense much sooner if Mitch had just tried a bit harder.

But Mitch hadn't cared. He hadn't cared one bit.

When Mitch left the bathroom in his suit the following day, he was met with wide, blue eyes in a pretty suit that matched his irises perfectly.

The eyes stared at him, unblinking, and Scott remained silent.

"You okay?" Mitch asked as he snapped himself out of the trance that Scott's pretty features had left him in.

Scott shook his head. "You..." he cleared his throat, fiddling with the buttons on his jacket. "You look handsome. Everyone is going to feel extra bad for me today, thinking that we broke up with you looking like that."

Mitch smiled. "My suit doesn't match my eyes in a downright unnatural way, Mister Could-Be-A-Model-Easily-If-He-Just-Tried."

Scott placed his hands in his pockets, and Mitch took a moment to survey the orange embroidery along the chest of his jacket. It was stunning.

"Weird that you and I have the same name," Scott replied, raising an eyebrow. Mitch couldn't help it as he broke into laughter at the flirtatious compliment.

"Ready, friend?" Mitch asked.

Scott nodded with a gentle smile. "Ready."