kiss the boy | scömìche

chapter eighteen

I've given myself the feels from the ending I have planned

Enjoy :)

~Ansley

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Mitch wakes up in Scott's arms.

He smiles softly, but knows he has to get up, gently lifting Scott's arm from his waist and slipping out from under him.

Mitch walks into the bathroom, carefully closing the door and locking it. He quickly strips and gets in the shower.

Scott wakes up to an empty bed.

He doesn't move, missing Mitch and wishing he was back in his arms — the small man was very huggable.

He smiles softly as he hears the sound of the shower running and forces himself to get up, trotting over to Mitch's desk. His fingers trail over the words he and Mitch wrote the night before, chuckling slightly as he spots a spelling error that was a result of their tiredness.

He feels an immense amount of pride for successfully writing a song, and a pretty darn good one at that. Scott is almost certain that the recording company Mitch works for will be happy with the song.

They better be.

The sound of the shower shuts off and Mitch exits the bathroom with nothing but a towel hanging loosely off his hips to cover him. Both Scott and Mitch freeze, eyes locked and cheeks bright red. It takes everything Scott has to not check Mitch out and keep his eyes on Mitch's brown ones.

Mitch is the first to break out of their trance, bringing one arm around to cover his bare upper body and using the other to grab some clothes before he disappears back into the bathroom to change.

It's then that Scott realizes he has nothing to change into, and he doesn't want to keep his current clothes on. After all, he slept in them — Scott and Mitch were so tired they didn't bother to change. Cursing quietly, Scott waits for Mitch to emerge before asking.

"Hey, do you have any clothes I could borrow? I slept in these."

Mitch smiles amusedly and nods, pulling out the biggest clothes he can find. Scott returns the smile gratefully and takes the clothes, going into the bathroom to change.

As soon as he's gone, Mitch releases a breath he didn't know he was holding and collapses on the bed as he tries to bring his breathing back to normal.

+++

Scott, dressed in Mitch's clothes that surprisingly fit, insists on taking Mitch out for breakfast that morning, grabbing Mitch's hand and tugging him out the door when Mitch refuses. Mitch laughs but cooperates, falling into step beside his tall friend. They walk in a comfortable silence, ignoring the due date of Mitch's song looming over them and trying to relax. After all, they had practically worked all night on the thing.

They collapse in the chairs, slightly out of breath from racing the last few feet. Mitch's cheeks are flushed and his eyes are dancing happily, breath coming out in little puffs. Scott smiles fondly at him, and Mitch returns it.

"Hello! My name is Cira and I'll be your server today. Can I get you anything to drink?"

The moment is ruined by a bright-eyed waitress, her pen poised over her notepad and ready to write. Mitch lets his eyes linger on the pen and pad before ripping his eyes away and turning to Scott. Scott understands and smiles at the waitress. "We'll both have a coffee, please. Thank you." The waitress returns the smile and quickly jots their order down on her notepad, Mitch's dark eyes watching her movements. He feels a hand grab his from under the table and give his fingers a reassuring squeeze, and he smiles gratefully up at Scott. Scott just winks, and Mitch bites back a blush.

"Alrighty! I'll have those out shortly!"

Cira gives them one last smile, her bright green eyes sparkling, and disappears into the back.

"So, what do you do when you're at a restaurant alone?"

Mitch raises an eyebrow and Scott blushes slightly, becoming panicked. "Was that rude? I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to be rude —" Mitch cuts him off by smiling and shaking his head, writing an answer on his notepad.

No, it's not rude. I usually just write my answer on my notepad. I mean, there's no point in trying to hide it.

Scott nods. "Yeah, I guess." The pair is silent for a few moments, and Mitch shifts uncomfortably under Scott's gaze. The slightest hint of a smirk plays on Scott's lips as he studies the boy sitting across from him.

"We should play the Get To Know You game."

The Get To Know You game.

"That's what I said, yes."

How does one play this Get To Know You game?

"It's quite simple, really. I ask you a question, you answer, you ask me a question, I answer. Got it?"

Yep.

"Fantastic. I'll start. What's your last name?"

Grassi. It's Italian.

"Yeah, you do look Italian. Your turn, Mr. Grassi."

What's your last name?

"Hoying. Scott Hoying."

I like that.

"Thanks, babe."

Babe?

Scott reads the note and winks, smirking at Mitch's red cheeks. "My turn. How old are you?"

22.

"Ooh. That's old."

I will hurt you.

"Sorry, sorry. Your turn."

How old are you?

"You can't keep copying my questions, Mitchiemoo."

Watch me.

"Fine. I'm 23."

Ha. I'm younger.

And back and forth they go. Asking questions, getting answers, and finding out all of the things best friends should know each other. By the time they leave the breakfast place that morning, Scott knows that Mitch has a sphynx cat named Wyatt that is currently at the boarders, he loves Spongebob, and he used to sing before he stopped talking, and Mitch knows that Scott has always wanted a pet but is too lazy to take care of one, he also loves Spongebob, and has attempted to write a song many times before but failed miserably.

When they get home, it's crunch time. They have approximately three hours before Mitch has to have the song at his work. They have to finish the chords and perfect the lyrics. Easy, right?

Wrong.

Two and a half hours later, they're not done. Mitch panics and sends his boss a text.

Mitch: What would you say if I told you I only have the words for the song done?

Ben: I'm sorry, Mitch, but we have to drop you.

Mitch swallows the lump in his throat and blinks back his tears, shaking fingers quickly typing out a reply.

Mitch: I understand. Goodbye, Ben.

Ben: Bye, Mitch. It was nice working with you.

Scott is watching him with eager eyes. "What did they say?" he asks quickly, his excitement fading when he sees the tears in Mitch's eyes.

They dropped me.

"Oh, Mitchiemoo," Scott whispers, pulling the small man into his chest. A bit of Scott's heart breaks as Mitch's small body shakes with sobs, and he instinctively strokes his hair and rubs comforting circles on his back.

"It's alright, Mitchie. I'll buy this song from you and we'll finish the transaction for the other song. Everything will be alright."

A lyric from their song they wrote together pops into his head, fitting the moment almost perfectly.

And don't you forget, the only thing that matters is your heartbeat going strong.