Stitches ~ Scömìche

Tripping Over Myself

Authors Note
Does anyone else find it weird you can add your own story to your own library?

~Jo

Kirstie stopped the car at a nice house.

"Here we are Mitchie," He winced at the nickname but Kirstie didn't notice. He thanked her and got out of the car.

"Hey Mitch?" She called. He turned. "Call me if you need anything please." He nodded and walked up the pathway to the house. He drew a deep breath and knocked on the door. He heard a commotion from inside and a tall man opened the door.

"Hi," Mitch said trying, and failing, not to sound timid. "I'm looking for Scott Hoying." The man smiled.

"Scott!" He yelled. "Someone's here for you!" He turned back to Mitch. "Do you want to sit down or something while we wait?" Mitch nodded.

"Thank you." He stepped into the house.

"Sorry about the mess," The man apologized. "Having a five year old son destroys the house more than you'd think." Mitch cracked a smile. "Coffee?"

"Yes thank you." The man smiled as Mitch sat down at the table and handed him a mug of steaming coffee.

"Cream?"

"No thank you, this is just fine." Mitch didn't touch the drink at first just watched the steam. He hadn't had a cup of coffee in four years.

"What is it Alex..." Scott trailed off when Mitch turned. "Mitch?" He asked like he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Hi," Mitch said and all of a sudden Scott was crying and hugging him.

"How?" Scott asked pulling back for a minute. Mitch shrugged confused by the question. "How are you here?"

"Kirstie." Mitch said simply looking over at Alex who was beaming at the both of them. Scott shook his head, laughing and crying all at the same time.

"How are you alive?" Scott finally asked. Scott had continuous physical contact with Mitch as if he were afraid Mitch would just disappear again.

"I honestly..." He paused trying to remember anything from that house. Once he was at the hospital Mitch had picked through his brain choosing to forget everything, every now and then bits and pieces came back to him, sometimes he forced himself to relive days at a time, but for Mitch these flashbacks were better than remembering. "Don't know." He finished. Scott frowned.

"You don't know?" Alex stood from his chair, interrupting the conversation.

"I'm going to pick up..." Alex paused glancing from Scott to Mitch. "Our son." Instead of Mitch's face falling like Alex expected it to, Mitch beamed.

"Am I aloud to meet him?" Mitch asked. Alex nodded digging around for his eyes before finding them and waving before walking out the door to his car.

"What kept you alive?" Scott pestered. Mitch bit his lip getting a wave of memories. A letter he wrote in black paint, thinking of Scott in hard times.

"Black paint." Mitch said finally. "I stayed alive because of black paint and a poor decision."

"Elaborate please," Scott asked throughly confused.

"I wrote letters to myself, to you, wrote little reminders, in black paint," Mitch paused. "And instead of running when I first had the chance I stayed. He," Mitch paused against "Just looked like he needed someone and I was the only someone available."

"Who's he?" Scott asked leaning closer.

"I..." Mitch trailed off. "Cannot remember his name, but he was the one who... Took me." Scott nodded.

"Mitch," Scott sighed. "It is so great to see you, I am so happy your alive and well and here, I am so glad that you're here. F*ck, I can't believe you're here. Please tell me you are not a f*cking dream!" Mitch smiled.

"I am not a f*cking dream." He said simply. "I'm pretty sure I'm real." Scott started laughing and crying all over again, expressing his gratitude for Mitch's presence over and over again.