Blink

Intensive

"—eed anything?" Scott knows the voice, like really knows the voice, but can't quite figure out why right at the moment.

"I need his parents to get here before anyone asks for permission to do or not do anything else," Mitch snaps. Fingers tighten where they're threaded through Scott's. They feel good. "I'm going to fuck it up and make the wrong decision."

'I trust you,' Scott tries to say, even if he has no idea who or what Mitch is talking about. He can't stand how sad and stressed Mitch sounds.

What comes out is a sigh that's too quiet for even Scott himself to hear. That's...disconcerting. Kind of like how he can't really feel his own body right now.

"He trusts you, Mitchy," says Kirstin. And fuck, Scott should really have known her voice anywhere. In his defence, she doesn't sound like herself. She sounds subdued, like she's sad or frightened. He really wants to hurt whoever made her sound that way. "But I meant like a magazine or some more ibuprofen or something. I can't actually make their plane fly any faster."

"I'm sorry, Kirst. I'm just so—"

"Anxious and worried that you want to throw up and Scott can't just fix it for you this time? I know, hon. I understand."

Scott's glad someone understands, because he's pretty lost. Why can't he fix what?

It's quiet for a while. Scott's just about drifting off again when Kirstie suddenly says, "You should tell him."

Who? What?

Mitch seems to know, because he huffs impatiently. "There's nothing to tell."

"Riiight." At least Kirstie's sounding more like herself now; she's broken out the tone she usually saves for when one of the other four of them is being particularly stupid. Scott's pretty sure he's still winning their unofficial count of how many times they've each earned it.

Second place is solidly Kevin. This right here could be Mitch pulling ahead of Avi for third.

"He doesn't feel the same way, Kirstin," Mitch says, and oh, he sounds so defeated. Scott wants to fold him up in his arms and make everything hurting him just go away. Mitch lets go of his hand, but then starts running his fingers over the back of it instead. "There's no point in rehashing it and putting a strain on our friendship again."

Scott's eyes are closed—they just won't open for him—but he's pretty sure he can hear Kirstie rolling her eyes.

"The last time you talked about it, you were seventeen. You know, back when both of you had your heads even farther up your own asses than they are now. Things change."

"Not this."

"You almost lost him, Mitch," Kirstie says, more quietly now. "You don't think it's worth the risk?"

Mitch doesn't answer her, but his fingers continue tracing over Scott's.

Scott's never been so confused in his life.

Blink.