immune ↛ scömìche

03

this heart was paper thin
but it will never break again
if i had a heart | todrick hall

Mitch Grassi's POV

Scott was quiet throughout some of the car ride, which surprised me. He was usually loud, from what I've gathered of him.

"You alright there, blondie?" I glanced at him cautiously, then looked back to the road. He looked up suddenly, then at me. "Hm? I'm fine, don't worry," he smiled, looking back out the window, staring at the large amounts of greenery and tall trees, and sometimes he'd look to the empty and black road. We were approaching our third hour of driving, and I was still tired. I never was all the other times, but I blamed it on just my lack of sleep the night before. "Are you sure? You're awfully quiet—"

"Mitch, if I say I'm fine, then I'm fine," he interrupted, not even looking at me. I nodded, staring at the road as my cheeks became pink, but not because of embarrassment.

***

"Can I play music?" the silence was interrupted by Scott. I shrugged, "Sure. Go ahead."

He attached the aux cord to his phone and began searching for music. I waited, rubbing my eye. I could basically feel my tiredness becoming worse. It hasn't ever gotten this bad.

He played a song that I couldn't decipher the name of, but he said it was by some band called Panic at something. The guy's voice was amazing.

This is gospel for the fallen ones
Locked away in permanent slumber

"Interesting," I commented. I saw him slightly smile with a nod from my peripheral vision.

I heard him mumbling, and I was about to ask what he was saying, but the guy singing suddenly sang "if you love me, let me go" pretty loudly and it surprised me. He laughed at my shock, and I glared at the road ahead of us as he did. "Jerk," I muttered.

"I somehow knew this wouldn't be your type of music. What is it? Beethoven?" he teased. I glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "You want to know what I listen to?"

"I do, yes."

"Techno, and lots of it. Drake, SOPHIE, Lana Del Ray. I don't listen to that dog shit," I muttered. He started laughing, "Dog shit? Mitch, Beethoven was a music composer. I'm not talking about the dog."

I felt myself fluster, staying silent. "Just continue with your emo band," I said quietly.

"They're not emo. Punk rock, Mitch. God, you're cute," he chuckled.

Why. Why. Why. Why me? Why.

"Emo. Punk rock. Same thing," I murmured.

"Whatever you say, Mitchie," he shook his head.

"Oh, Scott. Here," I said, throwing him my phone. "Call Avi or Kevin for me."

He nodded, scrolling through my contacts. "Jesus, you have like nine hundred people in this thing. Ooh, a guy with the heart emoji? How unfortunate for me," he fake frowned. Or at least I think so. I sighed, "I need to get rid of that," I muttered. He looked at me, "What?"

"Nothing, just get Kevin or Avi," I said.

"Alright, fine. Oh! My name. Why does it have the knife emoji? Mitch, is there something you're not telling me?"

I smirked just to fuck with him, and he stared at me with big eyes. "I will open this car door and jump."

"Calm down, blondie. Kevin or Avi! Go."