Disgrace (A Scömìche Fanfiction)

Chapter Twelve

"Scott, please wake up," I whisper, tears still spilling out of my eyes, "this is all my fault. I never should've . . . I hope you'll forgive me."

Suddenly, I see Scott's beautiful blue eyes flutter open. "Mitch?" he says weakly. A wave of relief crashes over me and I nod. "Scott, I'm so sorry," I sob, and Scott gently pulls me down to kiss him. As soon as he pulls away, his eyes close again and his breathing becomes more ragged. "Scott, we have to get you to the-" I feel my voice break. "-to the clinic." I gently grab his hand and try to pull him up, but I'm not strong enough. Wincing in pain, Scott gets up.

As soon as he's on his feet, he stumbles and I rush to catch him. He leans on my side as I lead him through the halls, and I try not to show that I'm about to collapse from his weight. "Hang on, I need to-" I catch my breath, leaning against the wall. "-I need to rest for a minute." Scott glances at me concernedly. "You alright? I can walk by myself," he says, and I shake my head, my eyes closed. "No, no, it's fine. We're almost there anyway."

Eventually, my knees give out, and I collapse in the floor. Scott hurriedly grabs at the wall, and he manages to save himself before he falls. "Mitch, you don't have to-"

"No, Scott, I'm . . . I'm fine. You're hurt more than I am, I'm not important right now." I shakily get up, ignoring Scott's worried looks. I grab his arm and drape it around my shoulder before continuing along.

We stumble into the nurse's office. I plop down next to him, catching my breath. "And what brings you back here on this fine, fine day?" the nurse says, watching us skeptically. I sigh, not in the mood to think of a lie. "Gordon and his goons beat Scott up for holding my hand," I say halfheartedly, and the nurse's expression immediately turns even more sympathetic. "Let's get you cleaned up," she says gently, taking Scott's hand and leading him deeper into the clinic.

I stay where I am, putting my face in my hands and biting my lip to keep from crying even more. This is all your fault. Scott probably hates you now, the voices hiss, and I wince slightly. I bring my knees up to my chest and push my eyes against them, savoring the cool darkness.

"Mitch?" a gentle voice says who-knows-how-long later. I hastily wipe away my tears and look up, forcing a smile. It's a shirtless Scott. His wounds have been cleaned and he has fresh white bandages wrapped around his torso. I bite back a blush and glue my eyes to his face. Now is not the time to stare, Mitch. "What- what happened?" I stutter, gesturing weakly to Scott's torso. He glances down and I spot a slight blush rise to his cheeks. "I have bruised ribs," he mumbles, not meeting my eyes. "What's wrong?" I ask gently, and Scott sighs, plopping down next to me.

"I'm sorry, Mitchie."

"For what?"

"I wasn't able to protect you. I'm a horrible boyfriend."

"Scott, the only thing they did to me was make me watch you get hurt."

"I know. I couldn't stop them from hurting me, and you were hurt. I'm sorry."

"You really think I would be mad at you for that?"

"Yeah."

"Scotty, you're the one that should be mad at me. I shouldn't have let them hurt you. I totally understand if you don't want to be with me anymore."

Scott brings me into his arms, and his bare skin is warm against mine. "Oh, Mitchie. It wasn't your fault. And no, I don't want to break up with you," he murmurs against my hair. "You . . . you don't?" I say softly, looking up at him. He smiles slightly, shaking his head. "No. I've said this once before and I'll say it again: Mitch, you're both my best friend and my boyfriend. You're the first boyfriend I've had that I really, really, really liked. You're perfect."

To be continued.....