DemoGrassi

twenty one

I really hate America.

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*three years later*

He's on his deathbed.

Mitch sits next to him, tears streaming down his cheeks and his hand clutching his.

"Don't die. Please. I-I'm not ready to —"

"It's okay. You can do it."

"I don't want to."

"I'm sorry, Mitch. But you'll be fine."

Mr. Grassi smiles sadly and lets go of his hand, falling back against his pillow. His eyes flutter closed and his breathing shallows. "Tell your mother I love her," he forces out, coughing weakly. Mitch frantically shakes his head. "No. Don't die on me, Father. Please," he whispers, and Mr. Grassi opens his eyes one last time. "Mitch. You and Scott have something special. Don't let him go. Hold onto him as tight as you can, and don't let him go." His eyes flutter closed again, and his breathing shallows even more.

"No! Father, no! Please!"

"I'm sorry, Mitch. Good luck. She's all yours."

And he exhales for the last time, all the life ebbing out of his body.

Mike Grassi is dead.

Mitch shakes his head again, and frantically tries to wake him up. "No. No, no, no, no, no, no. Father, you can't. Wake up. Please wake up. I'm not ready to run the country. No. Father, please." But no matter what he does, his father stubbornly remains dead.

Mitch breaks down, bringing his knees to his chest and letting his shoulders shake with sobs. He doesn't look up at the sound of the door opening and ignores the soft sobs coming from his mother and sister. He doesn't even look up when Scott comes in and rests his hand on his back. "It's okay, Master. You'll be fine," Scott murmurs, but still, Mitch doesn't look up.

Mitch is desperately trying to get ahold of himself. I mean, he knew it was coming. His father had suddenly gotten really sick one day about a year ago and had been ruling through Mitch ever since. It's surprising he lived this long.

Mitch finally gets his shoulders to stop shaking and he wipes away his tears, looking up. Everyone watches him silently as he gets up and stalks out of the room.

Scott, of course, goes to follow, but Jessa stops him. "Let him be alone for a while," she says softly, and Scott obeys, slowly sitting down in the chair that Mitch was in.

The undertaker takes Mr. Grassi's body away, loading it into a stretcher and carrying it off and out of their lives. Scott watches it, biting his lip, and willing himself not to rush after Mitch.

He's worried.

Scott has always known that Mitch didn't think he would ever be ready to rule Mr. Grassi's country, so what if Mitch decides he can't do it and does something stupid?

His worries disappear when Mitch comes back into the room an hour or so later and wordlessly holds out his hand to Scott. Scott quickly grabs it and lets Mitch pull him out of the room.

Mitch pulls him to his bedroom, hurriedly kissing him as soon as the door is closed. Scott is surprised, but he kisses back, snaking his arms around Mitch's waist and pulling him closer. He tastes the salt on Mitch's lips from his tears.

Mitch is the one to pull away, collapsing against Scott's chest as tears stream down his cheeks once more. "I'm not ready, Scott," he sobs, "I'm not ready. I can't do it. The country will fall and it'll be all my fault. And you. You. They'll take you away." Scott shakes his head, leading Mitch over to the bed to hold him tighter. "No, they won't. I won't let them, and you won't let them. And besides, you won't let the country fall. It'll be okay," he murmurs comfortingly, rubbing circles on his back. Mitch simply lets out a small wail of despair and clings to Scott tighter.

Scott slowly calms Mitch down, and Mitch looks up at him with his dark eyes, shining with tears. "I love you, Scott. So much. And I want you to know that if something happens to me —"

"No. Don't even go there." Scott's voice wavers, tears forming in his eyes.

"It's possible, Scott. So if something happens to me —"

"Nothing is going to happen to you. You're going to be fine."

"What if I'm not, though? This needs to be said."

Scott simply whimpers in reply, so Mitch continues. "I love you more than anything. You are the light of my world, Scott. If something happens to me . . . if something happens to me, I need you to remember that. Remember that, and remember me when you find someone else —"

"No. No."

"No?"

"I won't find someone else because nothing is going to happen to you."

"But —"

"Nothing."

Mitch opens his mouth to protest, but Scott shakes his head and kisses him. He cups Mitch's face, and Mitch tangles his fingers in Scott's hair.

They only break apart because air becomes an issue. Mitch presses their foreheads together, the only sound being their ragged breathing as they try to catch their breath. "Nothing," Scott murmurs, "is going to happen to you. We are going to live a happily ever after and no one is going to take that away from us." Mitch just scoots closer to him, curling into his chest and clutching weakly at Scott's arm.

"I just can't believe he's gone." His voice is soft and weak.

"I know, Mitchie. It's okay."

Mitch closes his eyes and scoots impossibly closer to Scott. "He was annoying, but I'm going to miss him."

Scott smiles sadly and holds him tighter, kissing his forehead. "It'll be okay, baby," he murmurs, and Mitch makes a small noise, moving even closer. "I love you, Scott," he whispers weakly. Scott smiles. "I love you too, Master."

Mitch curls into a small ball on Scott's lap, and Scott runs his fingertips comfortingly along his back. They sit quietly for a while before Scott's back starts to hurt. He scoots back near the pillows, taking Mitch with him, and then lays down on his back. Mitch shifts so his head is tucked in Scott's neck and his fingers laced with Scott's. Scott wraps one arm around Mitch's waist and holds Mitch's hand with the other, their legs intertwined.

Again, it's silent, the only sounds being their gentle breathing. The silence is peaceful, and Scott finds his eyes drooping closed. Mitch, however, lays awake, his father's last words ringing in his ears. He can't help but think that he's not going to be able to do it, that the country will fall. He can't help but think that Scott will get taken away.

"She's all yours."

That's what his father had said.

What if he didn't want her?