kiss the boy | scömìche

chapter five

Scott sighs, getting up off the couch and resuming his pacing. Kirstie sighs too from her perch on the counter, her hazel eyes watching him walk back and forth, back and forth.

Kirstie feels herself get dizzy, and she places her hand on the counter to steady herself.

"Calm down, Scooter. I'm sure he's fine."

"What if he's not, though? Kirst, he can't speak. What if someone takes advantage of him because they know he can't scream? What if he's seriously hurt but can't call for help? What if —"

"Scott. The man has been able to take care of himself for twenty-something years. I'm sure he's fine —"

"You said that already."

Kirstie sighs again, pushing herself off the counter and resting a comforting hand in her friend's back. He looks at her, his blue eyes shining with worry. Kirstie brings him into a hug, tucking his head in her neck. He's way taller, though, and is forced to bend awkwardly in order to do so. Kirstie pays this no mind and gently pats his back, trying to calm him down. Scott sighs against her skin, slowly wrapping his arms around her too and straightening up. He's so much taller, however, that her feet lift off the ground slightly. She lets out a squeak of surprise.

"Put me down, b*tch!"

Scott chuckles softly, doing just the opposite. He throws the smaller girl over his shoulder, her feet dangling in his face. His lips curve into a smirk as Kirstie bangs against his back, trying to get him to put her down. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I —"

"Hate is a strong word, Kirstin."

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I ha—"

"Fine then. Be that way."

Scott dumps the girl onto their couch, dusting off his hands as she struggles to sit upright again. Scott stifles a laugh as she glares at him, her short blonde hair falling in wisps about her face. He just smirks, and she huffs in annoyance.

A loud buzz interrupts the glaring contest. Scott immediately glances at his phone, rushing over to it to see he has a text.

From Mitch.

Fingers shaking with excitement and worry and fear and relief all at once, he quickly goes to read it.

Mitchie: come meet me at the park? I feel like I owe you an explanation

Scottie: of course. I'll be there in 5

Scott shuts his phone off, stuffing it in his pocket and grabbing his coat, already halfway out the door. He ignores Kirstie's confused look, shooting her a quick "Bye!" before he's gone.

+++

Scott quickly scans the crowd for the familiar head of brown hair and warm brown eyes. He spots Mitch sitting on a bench all by himself, furiously writing away in his notebook. Scott feels a rush of happiness come up from his stomach, and he tries not to smile too widely as he jogs over to the silent man.

He plops down next to Mitch, a small smile on his lips. Mitch jumps, startled, but he relaxes only slightly when he lays eyes on Scott. He offers a weak, tired smile back, handing Scott his notebook.

Hi, Scott. It's been a while. I'm very sorry I cut you off, but I had to. I don't know how much I can tell you, so here I go.

I don't know if it's obvious, but I'm gay. And a couple years ago, I had a boyfriend. His name was Nathan Smith. And that sounds really boring, but he wasn't. God, he wasn't. I loved him so much. I honestly thought he was the one I was going to be with forever, the one I was going to marry. But then, he started verbally abusing me. At first, it wasn't too bad. Just a simple "Maybe you should change. That shirt makes you look fat," here, a quick "Can you shut up? Your voice is annoying," there.

Yes, I was able to talk once. Still can, actually. I just don't want to because of Nathan.

Anyway, he eventually broke off the relationship. I was devastated, of course, but soon I realized he wasn't that good for me. I hated myself for a while after that. Sometimes I still do. But because of him, I stopped talking.

Now, he's back. He promised he'll be better, so I decided to give him another chance. Deep down, I still loved him, and I think I always will.

So that's where I've been. Please don't make me talk now that you know I can.

Scott's eyes widen with each word he takes in, feeling his heart break for the small, silent man next to him. He hears sniffles and realizes that Mitch is crying, and his heart breaks even more. "Oh, Mitchie," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around the small boy and bringing him to his chest. Mitch makes no move to pull away or to hug him back, just hiding his face in Scott's chest. "I won't make you talk if you don't want to," Scott whispers, rubbing comforting circles on Mitch's back. Mitch pulls away to give Scott a weak but grateful smile.

Thank you.

Suddenly, Mitch sits up straight, his warm brown eyes darkening with fear as they dart around the park. He lands eyes on something and panic flits across his face. He fumbles with his notebook, quickly scribbling something and showing it to Scott.

I'm sorry, I have to go. If I don't get back to you soon, don't try to find me. Goodbye, Scott.

As soon as Scott finishes reading it, Mitch takes off, and as quick as Scott first saw him, he's gone. Scott curses loudly, already missing the silent man. While he can't — well, won't — speak, he is still good company. Sighing, Scott gets up and starts to walk home, kicking rocks along the sidewalk glumly.

Scott lets himself into his apartment, sighing again as the lock clicks once more. He plops down in the couch and curls in a ball, letting his thoughts run wild.

Why was Mitch scared?

Is he scared of his boyfriend Norman, or Nathan, or whatever?

Why would he go back to his old boyfriend if he was verbally abused?

Why didn't he start to talk again after he broke up with Norman?

Why?