Endgame (Scömìche)

9. Perspective

Scott makes it through their set that night on autopilot. He's trying to postpone thinking, even going as far as avoiding Mitch in the brief backstage moments between songs, simply to keep it together.

As soon as they're off stage for the final time that night, Scott's focus shifts. Now all he wants is alone time with Mitch. He's still in stunned disbelief, convinced that he if he can just talk some sense into him it will all be fine. But Mitch is nowhere to be seen. No-one saw him leave and the only reason Scott hasn't yet called the police or something stupid is because of the one text he's recieved that says 'I'm okay. Talk soon.' And that's it. Scott doesn't know what to do with himself. Esther finds him much later, pacing backstage, hands running through his hair, long after everyone else has left.

"Es!" he exclaims, striding towards her, "Have you seen..."

"No, I'm sorry," she says cutting him off. She steps forward and takes his hand in hers. "Scott, listen, Mitch is, um, he's staying somewhere else tonight."

"What? Where is he?!," Scott demands.

"I honestly don't know, he just sent me a text to say he's safe and that he'll be back before we move on to Portugal."

Scott looks utterly crushed.

"C'mon, come back to the bus and get some sleep. Everything will look better tomorrow, I'm sure"

----

A short time later, as he's led in his bunk, staring at the ceiling, Scott catches sight of the photo that Mitch pinned there just yesterday. He puts his hands over his face. "I'm a fucking idiot," he whispers under his breath.

He jumps as he feels his phone buzz against his chest. Fumbling to read it, he's sees a text from Mitch. His heart lurches.

Mitchie > Hey. R u awake?
Scooter > yes!
Scooter > r u ok? where r u?
Mitchie > w/ Mama Maldonado. Hotel.

Scott breathes a sigh of relief, even if he only answered the second question. In his panic he'd forgotten about Angelica. Despite Mitch's insistence that she join them on the bus instead of staying in a hotel by herself, he's not seen her tonight.

Mitchie > can we talk? now?
Mitchie > I need to see you
Scooter > yes. omg yes. where?

Scott's fighting with the curtain, stumbling out of his bunk and stepping into his jeans before he's even got a reply. As he pulls on a t-shirt, his phone buzzes again with a hotel name and room number.

----

Scott knocks on the door, waiting anxiously. He hears various latches clunk - click and then the face of Kirstie's Mom appears in the doorway, about a foot and a half lower than his expectant eyeline was resting.

"Hi Scott."

"Hi Angelica. Is um, is Mitch here?" It's slighly surreal and Scott feels weirdly like he's 16 again.

"He's on the balcony honey," she says pushing the door wide open, "come on in, I'm just heading back to the bus," she smiles warmly at him.

Scott hesitates. "Uh, I should walk you back, Angelica, it's late."

"Nonsense, it's barely ten minutes away. I'll get a cab if that would make you feel better?"

Scott nods and Angelica leans towards him, placing a hand on his chest. "It's gonna be okay honey."

Scott takes a deep breath and as he hears the door shut behind him, he makes his way through the room and out onto the balcony.

Mitch is standing, leaning against the rail, looking out at the nighttime cityscape.

Scott halts. He wants nothing more than to run to the other man but he's frozen, terrified of making a wrong move.

"Hey," says Scott timidly.

"Hey," replies Mitch turning his head. He sounds tired, but his voice is warm.

"Um, how are you feeling?"

"Better," Mitch nods slowly, "More me." he turns around, his back against the railings.

Scott takes a few hesitant steps across to Mitch and stands there, inches away from him. Scott's arms hang limply by his sides, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Mitch reaches up, cupping Scott's face and tilts his head so that the two men are staring straight into each other's eyes.

"Mitch..." Scott starts, before he's cut off.

"Scott, let me speak; I've got a few things I need to say."

Scott nods his head and swallows. Mitch moves his hands down to Scott's chest, not breaking eye contact.

"I'm sorry," Mitch says.

Scott looks hopeful, but confused, not really sure exactly what part Mitch is referring to here.

'About the Tinder thing. It was... innapropriate."

"No, Mitchie, I overreacted, I should have never..."

"I know, but it hit a nerve, didn't it? You know, I always knew that type of thing got under your skin, even when we weren't together. But I kinda liked it; I could see you were still into me. "

"I hated it," Scott says, looking slightly ashamed, "I always did. But I didn't think I'd have to pretend to be the supportive best friend with that anymore. You're mine." He falters. "At least I thought you were."

"Oh my god, I am yours, Scott. I am completely and utterly yours," Mitch says, placing his hands back on Scott's face. "And I am so so sorry I freaked. I wasn't thinking clearly at all. Angelica slapped a bit of perspective into me," he looks embarrassed.

Scott's looking at him with eyes wide open, brimming with tears. "You're... we're... You fucking scared the shit out of me Mitch. I thought I lost you."

"No, no baby. I'm here. I'm here and I'm yours. I'm so sorry, it was a shitty moment of self-preservation; retreating into my shell, hiding."

"Not from me though. Not. From. ME," Scott says through clenched teeth, bringing his hands up to finally embrace this beautiful, stupid, beautiful boy. "Mitch, there is literally nothing we can't face together. I mean that."

"I know. It's just... we've never fought before and it's my biggest fear; that we"ll fight and wear out our friendship. And I literally don't think I can live without that. I mean, you're always there for me; I was going through it back there and you were there, like you always are, without question, without judgement, being exactly who I needed you to be. I can't fuck that up. I just can't." Tears are streaming down his face now.

Scott wipes the tears away with his thumbs and presses his forehead to Mitch's. "Listen to me. We're gonna fight sometimes. That's normal. One of us would need to be a total doormat for that not to happen. And I think we both know that ain't either of us. But we'll talk and we'll kiss and we'll make up."

"When did you become such a fucking adult?," Mitch laughs and sniffs, wiping his eyes and nose.

Scott looks at Mitch, deadly serious. "We need to do the kissing part of the making up now."

Mitch takes a deep breath in and nods, moving closer to Scott. As their lips meet, Mitch feels comfortably light headed. At peace. Home.

----

Well, it's a short one, but I figured Y'all might kill me if I left that hanging too long... (and I couldn't bear it either!) More fun & fluff to come. I'm not gonna do that again. Ouchie.