Anchor *scomiche*

Chapter 11 - Last Day

This seemed a BIT awkward to me so hopefully I'm just delusional, I blame covid brain. Also... the beginning of the end approaches :) 

Mitch jerked awake and looked at his surroundings. He saw that he was in his own room and groaned at the intense pain behind his eyes. He covered his face with the comforter to keep out the light and groaned again. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to be drinking for a very long time. His stomach churned and the room spun even with his eyes shut. He took some deep breaths until the nausea lessened and uncovered his head. He looked over and saw some Tylenol and water on his bedside table. The only person that would've done that was Scott and he wondered how he even thought to do it. They'd drunk about the same amount the night before, and he vaguely recalled an Uber dropping them off at home. He does not remember, however, going into his room and getting into bed. He slowly got out of bed to go check on Scott; he had to be just as worse off.

He crossed the hall to Scott's closed door and knocked softly. When he didn't get an answer, he opened the door and Scott was sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. "Scott? How are you feeling? Better than me I hope."

Scott groaned as he raised his head. "I probably look as bad as you feel. Did you take your Tylenol? I made sure to put some in each of our rooms before I collapsed." His hair was sticking every which way and there were bags under his eyes. Mitch went and sat down beside him.

"Yeah, thank you. I don't remember getting into bed, thank you if you helped me. I never drink that much, and I sure won't again, like ever."

Scott smiled over at Mitch. "Same. I wasn't as bad as you despite how I look so yeah, I did. You look green around the gills," he joked, pointing to his residual face paint. He gave Mitch an odd look like he wanted to say something else, but he subtly shook his head. "Shall we get dressed and get Starbs?"

"Oh my God, yes. I'm going to take a shower first to clear some cobwebs. Meet you downstairs in 30? We need to go get my car first." At Scott's nod he left the room and went back to his own. He'd caught the look on Scott's face but didn't want to ask about it for fear he'd be embarrassed. He just hoped he hadn't done anything to warrant it. He stepped under the hot spray and immediately started to feel human. His thoughts wandered to the night before and how much fun it had been. They had had a couple more shots before switching to water but Mitch had been past the point to having no filter, so he prayed he hadn't said anything to Scott. Maybe he should apologize just in case, but that would mean he'd have to actually acknowledge it, and he just wasn't ready. Maybe nothing happened to begin with, which is what he was going with.

Half an hour later Mitch wandered down the stairs to see a well put together Scott on the couch looking at his phone. He meandered over and sat down next to him. "Are we all feeling better?"

Scott tilted his phone toward Mitch with a smile. Apparently Mitch had taken a selfie with Scott and his three friends and posted it on Instagram with the caption '2 witches and their flying monkeys'. "I just saw this, how funny. You are an outstanding selfie taker, can I take lessons from you?"

"Shut up," said Mitch with a laugh, pushing against his arm. "You're just jealous." They sat in silence for a beat and a feeling of anxiety crept up into his belly. Not today, not today, not today...

It was the last day Scott would be here and he wanted to make it a good one. Dealing with anxiety wasn't a part of the plan, and he didn't know he was breathing deeply until Scott was talking to him. His heart pounded inside of his chest as though someone were using it as a punching bag.

"Hey." Scott grabbed Mitch's hand and squeezed it. "Tell me where you're at."

"I'm s... sorry." Mitch felt tears come to his eyes and he cleared his throat. "This is embarrassing. I'm just having some anxiety is all, not a big deal. I'll be ok, I think I'll just take something for it before we go." He went to stand but Scott held firm to his hand. Mitch interlaced his fingers with his and squeezed back. Having Scott there wasn't something he wanted to end. He knew that once he left the silence would be deafening, and he would feel alone once again. "I'm going to miss you. I've been dealing with anxiety yes, but please know that having you there for me over the month, and then now, has made it more bearable." He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked up into Scott's commiserative gaze. "No one ever prepares you when you lose someone that was a constant in your life. I just miss him. I still have my mom and I'm grateful for her, but we had some of the best conversations. And sometimes I still feel so lost or confused that I could use his words of wisdom."