defect ➵ scömìche

eleven

Mitch Grassi's POV

MY HEAD STILL HURT LIKE hell, so I assumed it was trying to heal. There were no signs of Scott, all until I heard ferocious knocking at my door around three in the morning. I was obviously pissed, because most people sleep during that time, and I was most definitely one of them.

"What the fuck," I muttered to myself. After I opened the door, Scott looked down at half asleep me, without a shirt on and clearly frustrated. "Hi," he smiled, making me even more mad. "Why the hell do you suddenly appear at three in the goddamn morning but can't come back tomorrow or better yet, yesterday at a normal time? Now? Of all times, you chose now?" I ranted.

"Yes," he simply responded.

I sighed, moving out of the way. "Come in, douchebag."

He smirked and walked in as I started to go back to my room. "Do whatever, I'm going back to sleep."

"Okay," Scott mumbled, sitting on my couch. I then went back into my bed, hoping that I wouldn't snap too badly at him in the morning, if I ever got back to sleep.

*

I didn't fall back asleep. Instead I kept wondering about why Scott was here at three AM, so I decided to go back to where he was (living room) to see why, but before I did, I threw on a big sweater to cover myself a bit. I tiptoed, just in case he was asleep, but I wasn't sure if he was, because he was sitting in the corner of the couch, his knees up to his chest, his eyes closed, and his light eyebrows furrowed.

"Scott?" I said quietly. He opened his eyes immediately, clearly startled. "Hi."

"Hi," I said. "Sorry I was being snappy."

"I see why you were. You looked more asleep than awake, and I came here at three. It's my fault," he waved it off. I shrugged, "Don't worry about it."

I plopped down next to him and ran a hand through my hair. "So," I said. I checked the time on my phone that I grabbed on the way down: 4:30 AM. "What did you do for the past hour?"

"Try to sleep. But I can't."

"Why?" I asked. "Not tired?"

"Yeah," he nodded. His cold facade is coming back. I sighed, "Okay. If you don't mind me asking, why are you here at 3? What happened?"

He looked down to his hands in his lap, "Uh, nothing."

"Nothing? So why didn't you go to Kirstie's?" I inquired. "Because she would've screamed at me," he shrugged.

"Well I screamed at you, too, so that's invalid," I stated.

He sighed, "Fine. Do you want to know why I disappeared?"

I looked to him silently, nodding a little.

"It's because I'm in some deep shit, Mitch. Someone... someone died - so I originally left because I couldn't stand Los Angeles, but then the asshole who refuses to leave me alone came to beat the shit out of me, but luckily I knew self defense so I beat his ass. Anyways, what I'm trying to say is that there are crappy people coming my way, and they're ready to pounce on me anytime I'm in private, alone. Never mind how I got into the deep shit, but I didn't go to Kirstie's because they know who she is, and I'm worried, okay? Oh shit, it sounds like I came here so you'd be their target, huh? No, I didn't, I came here because I have nowhere else to go. I'm sorry."

I kind of just stared at him, processing everything. To say the least, I was surprised and a little scared. He seemed to hate the fact he came here, but then I awkwardly coughed. "Um, Scott? Not to make things worse, but they do know who I am."

He stared at me, "What?"

"Uh, someone, like, came up to me while I was looking for you, and kind of hurt me, but it's alright," I shrugged it off. He looked furious, or concerned - I couldn't tell because of the dim light - and he groaned. "Seriously? Oh fuck, what did they do to you?"

"Uh, it's just the back of my head. Nothing serious," I assured. He immediately got up and went behind me, probably to look at it, and I looked down so he could see better.

He exhaled slowly, "Shit. I need to go," he said right after looking at it. "Why?" I asked.

"I want to beat the guy's ass for touching you, that's what," he looked stressed. "Scott, calm down," I stood and was about to touch his shoulder, but he gripped my wrist in his hand and sighed, "This isn't okay."

"Scott, just stay here for tonight, okay? You're clearly mad, and you need to calm down - not by driving at night, who knows what could happen because of that? - You need to just calm down," I took my wrist out of his grip. We were a lot closer than I thought, but I ignored that. "Okay," he shut his blue eyes and then opened them, "I'll try."

I nodded, smiling up at the tall blond. "Good."

***

When I woke up properly in the morning around ten, I got up immediately to check on Scott in my living room. He was up, but this time, he wasn't wearing that god-forsaken hoodie. No, he wasn't even wearing a shirt. He was shirtless. That is not a good thing. Nope, nope, nope. I tried my best not to stare at his muscles, or him in general, but I failed when he said my name. "Mitch," he laughed. "You can look at me."

I looked up at him, and instead of sitting like before, he was standing. "H-hi," I mentally smacked myself for stuttering. "Hi."

His voice was a little raspy, like he just woke up, and it was not helping my situation any.

"You look like a tomato," he pointed out, making me glare at him with my cheeks still red. "Gee, thanks. Everyone loves being called a fruit, especially me," I said sarcastically. "You're welcome," he smiled at me. As I looked at him, my eyes trailed down to his chest again, and I frowned when I saw a few scars. I stepped closer, examining them, and looked up at him. "What were these from?"

"Nothing," he shook it off. "It was years ago."

"Years ago, huh?" I mumbled. "They look like months or even weeks ago."

"Years," he repeated, probably not wanting to talk about it, so I shrugged it off. "Okay. Anyways, are you hungry?"

***

a/n::

hehehhehe scott shirtless is my life source. btw sorry for the short chapters.