Ambivalence

One

It had been two weeks.

And so, naturally, Mitch's attorney had called him because two weeks was far too long to simply read a few pages of predictable text and sign your name.

Mitch had done the first part. Many, many times in fact. He had read over everything that the dreaded packet held. He wasn't sure if he was looking for a hidden message, or if he thought something would change after the last time he read it, or if he was just in denial.

But there was something disheartening and equally terrifying about divorcing who you had believed to be the love of your life.

Mitch was also just busy. That was his number one excuse...he was busy.

And that was not false in any way. The poor boy was preoccupied with a number of things involving work. This week had not been an exception, and perhaps even the worst, so the brunette was literally sighing in relief when he turned his key into his door.

He had been invited to go out with friends tonight, they suggested that he should relieve the stress of his week with some drinks, enjoy his Friday night, but in all honesty it had seemed to be the least desirable option considering his other ones (movie night, a long shower, sleeping.)

But unfortunately Mitch's terrible luck from the week did not end the second he walked into the door of his beautiful penthouse in New York City, and it instead began a type of terrible on the opposite end of the spectrum.

A terrible that involved Scott Hoying standing in their kitchen, cooking, singing softly to himself, and wearing jeans and t-shirt.

It wasn't fair. It really wasn't fair.

And it was already beginning to ruin Mitch's perfect Friday night to himself, because even if Scott gave him no more than two words, he was here and that was enough to unnerve the brunette.

Mitch had been standing in the doorway becoming impressively angry far longer than he'd meant to, and Scott turned around, catching sight of his husband.

"Hey!"

"Hi," Mitch said, much softer than he'd meant to. Geez, he sounded as bad as he felt. "What's up?" Mitch asked, which was his polite way of saying "what are you doing here?"

It's not like it was completely uncommon for Scott to be here, but after the split he had moved in with one of their coworkers, Marty. Scott only came by the penthouse when he needed to pick up some more clothes, or occasions like this one where'd he just drop by because, in his words and not Mitch's, this was his house too and he was allowed to come by when he wanted.

And Mitch didn't hate it, not entirely. Because Scott was still Scott and it didn't hurt to see him. He did at least three times a week at work, albeit in fleeting moments, but it was much more enjoyable in the comfort of their home and when Mitch wasn't two seconds away from having a breakdown.

"Marty had a date tonight," Scott said, beginning to explain his presence. "And he didn't really say that I shouldn't be there, but he kind of did at the same time. Plus, this is my house---"

"---too and I'm allowed to come by when I want," Mitch joined, giving his husband a smile. "I know."

"I'm sorry. I heard about this week and how much it sucked but I thought---"

"It's fine. Really."

"Okay. Okay, good." He looked at Mitch for another moment before turning back to the stove. "I got a little crazy with this pasta and made way too much, so if you want to have some you can."

That sounded almost as good as the subject of the invitation smelled. Honestly, Mitch had planned to take a shower and then just go to bed, but he could not turn down this offer. "Yeah, that sounds good. But I'm in desperate need of a shower like you wouldn't believe, so could you possibly wait?"