Scömìche One Shots (*PG-R*)

Temporary High (Part 2)

"SCOTT!"

Scott flinched and jolted awake, his heart racing as his sore eyes scanned his dark room for the source of the voice. He heard a few more quick raps on his door and sighed, mumbling a quick "come in" before shoving his face back in the pillow. He peeked up after an unexpectedly long silence to see Mitch's thin silhouette leaning against his doorframe, the light from the hallway illuminating his outline.

"How long were you gonna make me stand out there?"

"Sorry" Scott breathed, finally beginning to recover from the shock of being woken up so suddenly. "Was napping."

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm. Keep the light off."

He could tell that Mitch had left the door a crack open by the faint glow he could sense even through his closed lids. He didn't mind. Mitch was here and probably needed either help or company and he was ready to provide him with both. He felt him crawl into the bed and get under the covers, laying sideways next to him before tentatively placing a hand on Scott's upper back and rubbing softly between his shoulder blades.

"You okay, Scotty?"

"Mhm."

"You've been asleep for a while."

"Mhm."

"It's 6pm."

Scott slowly flipped his throbbing head to the side so that he was facing Mitch. "Really?"

Mitch nodded. "You've been out for a long time, I was getting worried. You didn't order food or set up a movie. I texted you a few times but you didn't respond. Don't do that to me again."

"Oh," he mumbled, his body relaxing under Mitch's touch as he continued massaging between his shoulders. "Sorry. Didn't mean to."

"Mhm. No problem." They fell into a comfortable silence, and Scott was thankful that the room was still dark. His eyes were open now but since he was slipping back into consciousness, he was also beginning to remember the events from earlier this morning and he didn't want to look at Mitch, or for Mitch to see him. He could feel how swollen his eyes were from the combination of crying followed by nearly five hours of sleep and he wasn't in the mood to make up lies about what he was upset over.

"Okay," Mitch mumbled, clearing his throat. His hand stilled and instead of rubbing, he began gently patting the same spot on Scott's back as if he were a small child who needed comfort. "So. I need to talk to you."

Scott's mind began to wander but he stayed quiet, not sure what Mitch needed. He could be talking about anything, but that introduction wasn't the one Mitch usually used when he wanted to ask Scott to go clubbing with him. He gave into his mental exhaustion and relaxed, too tired to exert himself.

"Are you sleepy?"

"Mhm."

"Okay." Mitch paused for a moment. "We can talk later. I didn't mean to bother you."

"Wait." Scott grabbed for Mitch before he could get out of the bed, his muscles still heavy with sleep. "Stay. You can talk to me. Always. What's up?"

Mitch nestled back under the covers and Scott could practically hear the gears in his mind turning. Minutes passed and he didn't say a word, and Scott began to worry. "Mitch? What's wrong? Please talk to me." He rolled onto his side too so that they were facing each other, their bodies only a foot away from each other.

"I want...um. I want to talk to you, Scott. But..." He pulled the covers higher so that they fell around his shoulders. "But I'm nervous. I'm scared."