Mitch was gone; he was going home to visit his parents. Scott had to stay behind for this stupid meeting. His pencil bounced quickly against the table, as his feet to the floor. He tried to follow the producers as they rambled on.
Blah blah blah music.
Blah blah blah singing.
Blah blah blah records.
Scott glanced around the table at his friends. Avi and Kevin were interjecting eagerly. Kirstie scribbled their notes, she was their savior. This time Scott begged her to take extra detail to Mitch's part so that he could give it to him; she agreed.
Scott still didn't understand why Mitch could be absent and he couldn't, or maybe it was a trick and he could, but nonetheless there he was. They probably all knew that he never paid attention, and to be absent would result in a catastrophe.
Scott's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he quickly retrieved it. Apparently he had missed two messages, one from Mitch and one from Dianne.
Mitchy: Heyya Scott! Still at the meeting?
Scott smiled.
Scott: Yeah, but I'm not paying attention, whatcha got?
Mitchy: Doesn't even surprise meXD I don't really have any news, just missed you and wanted to check in.
Scott: I miss you too, but I'll see you in a few days:)
Mitchy: Yeah, I should go, see ya xx
Scott: see ya xx
Scott closed their conversation and opened the text message from Dianne.
Dianne: Hey babe! Free to hang after your meeting?
Scott: no
Scott huffed, shutting his phone. He loved Dianne, he really did, he just couldn't see her right now. It sounds like the perfect time, the apartment is empty, but he doesn't have the energy to deal with her. Dianne cares a lot, almost obsessively. She always wants to be close and if Scott tells her he's not in the mood to be so close then she just gets closer persuading him to talk about it or get his mind off of it. Sometimes Scott doesn't like to bother with things, or he just needs times to work things through for himself. Although he's tried to explain this to her, it makes her feel bad, making him feel worse.
Soon thereafter the meeting ended, and Scott shuffled outside to meet the Uber he arranged. He nearly fell asleep on the ride home, but after the short eternity he arrived at his apartment building. He crashed through the door and veered right to his bedroom, threw off his coat, and collapsed.
Scott had no energy but no desire to do nothing. Doing nothing is actually quite hard for him, and it's impossible to do alone; because of this he just stayed, splayed out across his bed, unwilling to move. It was only four o'clock when Scott woke up from his nap. He trudged into the kitchen and made some scrambled eggs and burnt toast, but he didn't care. Sitting at the table he silently picked at his food. The minutes passed by slowly as he tried to waste his time, skipping from phone games, to social media, to YouTube. After what felt like hours of refreshing Twitter and quitting Flappy Bird he resorted to sleep.
Scott's night consisted of tossing and turning and tossing and turning, every position unbearably uncomfortable. When he finally fell asleep for more than twenty minutes a horrible nightmare ensued. Scott woke up in a cold sweat. He bounded into Mitch's room, landing hardly on the bed, bouncing the ruffled sheets on the opposite side of the bed. "Sorry Mitch, I didn't mean to wake you so harshly, but I'm glad you're up. I had a horrible nightmare." Scott proceeded to explain the whole dream in immense detail without breathing. The pillows and sheets lying next to him listened silently.
A few states away, Mitch was restless. He laid on his back, staring into the dark abyss of his ceiling. He missed Scott, and being in his childhood bedroom was salt in the wound. He took advantage of the pitch black and tried to imagine his current room in the endlessness that surrounded him so that he could sleep; for when morning reared its head this room would remind him of so many memories, making him feel weak and alone.
