defect ➵ scömìche

sixteen

Scott Hoying's POV

MITCH WAS ABLE TO COME back today, and I was ecstatic. Kirstie, Avi, and Kevin were, too, but I think I was a lot more excited than them, probably because we're going on a possible date today if he feels up to it, but I'm still happy he's okay. But I had to talk to someone to stop this from happening again eventually, unfortunately.

He was tired, as I expected, and so I helped him into his house, my arm around his waist as he laid his head on my shoulder. He was very out of it, as he mentioned dying his hair blond like mine. I chuckled at the colors he wanted to dye it. Purple, blond, blue.

"Blond is pretty. Your hair's blond. I wanna be blond!" He frowned. "But you're beautiful with brown hair, too," I mentioned. He looked up at me with the prettiest smile, his dimples showing. "You think I'm beautiful?"

"Yes, Mitch," I blushed. "Anyways," I said, avoiding anymore of that subject, since I wasn't a big sap. "Are you feeling okay?" I inquired.

"Hm? Oh, totally. Yeah. I'm feeling just dandy," he grinned back at me, but didn't look at me as he collapsed onto his couch, closing his eyes. "I'm tired. My side hurts!"

"I know," I said quietly. "The doctor said not to take any medication for now. Do you want to go sleep?"

"Yes," he mumbled, staying on the couch. "Do you wanna go to your bed instead?"

"Mhm," he mumbled incoherently. I didn't know if that was a yes or a no, so I walked up to him and lifted him up by his chest, carefully avoiding touching his wound that was still in the process of healing. As soon as I fully picked him up, he smuggled into my chest, and my blush only got redder. I walked down to his room, trying to remember where it was from when I was last here, and eventually remembered. I kicked the door open a bit, and when I laid him down, I was about to leave, but an unsatisfied Mitch called me back. "Stay," he mumbled. I opened my mouth and closed it like a fish, a little surprised, but coughed awkwardly. "Uh, what?"

"Lay down," he elaborated. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" I frowned. "You're gonna get hurt somehow—" an interruption, "If I do get hurt alone, then what do I do?"

I contemplated it, but sighed. "Fine, fine."

I took my sweatshirt off for more comfort and threw my shoes off before crawling in the bed with him. I laid there, a little awkwardly, and then Mitch looks up at me with furrowed eyebrows. "You okay?"

"Yes," I lied.

"No," he muttered, cuddling into my chest. "Put your arm around me," he instructed. I bit my lip, contemplating it, and then he sighed, grabbing my arm and doing it himself. His curve felt really nice, and I say that as non creepy as I can. I was very cautious, trying to avoid his side as best as I could, but with my arm around it, that was kind of hard. "Mitch," I said. "Hm?" He mumbled.

"Does your side feel okay? I can move my arm if it hurts."

"No, it feels fine. I feel fine. Just relax, Scott," he said, not even looking at me. I sighed and nodded, "Okay."

***

I woke up to a sudden gasping noise — when, I don't know — and I opened my eyes to see Mitch biting his lip and clutching his side. "Fuck, fuck," I kept rambling to myself as I reached for the lamp on his side, turning it on. "I need to pull your shirt up," I said and he didn't respond, nodding. I did it, and I stared at the wound carefully. Nothing seemed to be bad, except the fact it was more red than usual. "I'm calling the hospital, okay?" I declared and he didn't respond again.

Once I dialed them with my phone from the bedside table, my heart was beating faster than usual. They answered, and I immediately started talking. "Someone I know was stabbed some time ago and he woke up gasping and clutching his side. What do I do?"

"Sir, is it red?" The woman asked calmly. "Yes," I sighed. "It's nothing serious, it's typical in stabbed patients. Just apply small amounts of ice to the wound. Ask him if it stings, burns, or feels like he's being stabbed again."

"Mitch, does it sting or burn?" I asked. He nodded. "Does it feel like you're being stabbed again?" I inquired again. He shook his head. "Just burning and stinging," I said. "That's good. Do as I said, sir."

"Okay, thank you," I shut my eyes, running a hand through my hair. I got up, and he looked at me, "Where are you going?"

"To get ice. Apparently it needs to be applied."

He nodded, and I finally left for his kitchen. Wyatt came running out of the bathroom and purred at my feet. As I entered the kitchen, I looked at the gap between the fridge and wall, and I instantaneously frowned, remembering that's where he was stabbed. I looked down at the ground, and it seemed as if nothing happened, as if he wasn't stabbed.

I avoided looking there as I grabbed a rag and filled it with some ice, squeezing it to make sure it doesn't fall apart. I went back to Mitch eventually, and he seemed more calm, but still in pain. I laid next to him and checked it out again, and I pulled his shirt back down and applied the ice to his side. He jumped a bit, but slowly relaxed.

"This is okay, right?" I asked. He nodded, "Thank you, Scott," he smiled sheepishly up at me. "I'm also sorry for this."

"Don't be. I'm glad I can help," I mumbled, making sure I didn't drop the ice. He looked up at me again, the smile still on his lips, and then he leaned into me and pecked my lips for just a mere second, and I don't think I ever wanted anything more than to have his lips back on mine, but I didn't let it happen.

***

a/n;; short. late as hell. but it's here!! and i was sort of hating this chapter for the last 10 days bc i didn't like it so i rewrote it like five times with different outcomes ugh but this is cute right? i hope lol