Scomiche One-Shots

Forbidden

A/N: This was a completed piece in my drafts from like 4 months ago and I decided to publish it just so y'all could have something to read. LOVE YOU ALL!

Scotts POV:

     My eyes shot open when my bedroom door opened and I let my eyes glance towards the glowing red numbers sitting on my night stand. 3:42 A.M. I shuffle a little and reach over to flick my lamp on.

     Mitch pulls the door closed behind him and I can see it immediately. He's been crying again. His cheeks are raw from all the tears he wiped away and his gorgeous brown eyes are rimmed with wet lashes.

     I scoot my weight to the other side of the bed and lift the covers without a word, silently telling him to join me. It takes him less than ten seconds to find the perfect position against my side. I always loved how well we fit together. It was like we were made for each other.

     I take a deep breath and let my eyes fall shut. I wanted to ask him what was wrong this time, but he would start crying again and I didn't want to ruin the peace that seemed to be filling the room. I didn't have to debate long though, because he spoke first this time.

     "I'm sorry. I'm so, s-so sorry to do this again." I could feel him starting to shake a little and it only took a few seconds to feel his hot tears running down my bare shoulder.

     "Don't ever be sorry for not being okay." It had been a rough few months for Mitch and I knew that. He was having some trouble with depression, which I could understand completely.

     Everyone thinks being a celebrity made you immune to sadness, or that it somehow meant you weren't allowed to have any problems, but that wasn't true. I think we have some of the worst problems. We're always under the spotlight; always expected to be perfect and to please everyone, but that isn't how things work.

     Ever since Pentatonix really blew up, Mitch had been struggling. I helped him as much as possible, but it's hard to fight the demons in your head.

     Tonight seemed to be worse than the usual nights though. Mitch didn't stop trembling for well over an hour and it was breaking my heart. I sigh gently and shake my head. I refused to let him suffer tonight.

     I sit up against the headboard and tug him sideways into my lap, securing my arms around him tightly and making sure there's as little space between our bodies as possible.

     I smile gently when I feel his arms slipping around my neck and when I glance down, his eyes are already watching me. Even with tears in his eyes, Mitch was the most beautiful human I've ever laid eyes on.

     I duck my head down and set a few soft kisses to his face before letting my forehead settle against his.

     "It's okay to not be okay, Mitchy. I'm here for you, and you never have to apologize for needing me." I smile a little and then pull my face back so I could let my eyes lock with his. "I need you, too. I don't know what I would do without you. We have each other, okay?"

     His shoulders relaxed some and the faint line of a smile was showing on his lips. We had always been this way. Mitch and I were very codependent, and I don't think I would have ever been this successful without him.

     "You always know what to say to calm me down," he says. I could tell he was relaxing some, and could also tell he was exhausted.

     "Get some sleep, Michelle. Don't worry about anything tonight." We lay down again and I let my arms pull him closer to my chest. Mitch is silent and still for so long that I assume he's fallen asleep, but I was wrong again.

     "You're my best friend." His words send a jolt of pain through my body but I make sure not to show it. He didn't need anything else to worry about.

     It's not long before I can tell that he's actually asleep, and I let my eyes scan his face without hesitation or the fear of him seeing. Mitch was the sweetest, most beautiful person I had ever seen.

     He was my best friend though, and I shouldn't have the thoughts I have about him. I shouldn't think a lot of things about my best friend that I do, actually.

     I shouldn't think about his beautiful he is. I shouldn't think about how kind he is, and how endearing it is to me that he doesn't realize it. I shouldn't be mesmerized by the curve of his jaw or how his dimples show when a true smile tugs at his lips.

     I shouldn't let my eyes trace along his sharp collar bones and wish it were my fingers instead, or better yet, my lips. I shouldn't zone out at the sight of his impossibly plump lips and wonder how it would feel to kiss them over and over until he was smiling again.

     I shouldn't love the way he fits so perfectly into my side, or the way that our bodies connect like puzzle pieces when we hug, or how no one else's hands seem to fit with mine just as effortlessly as his do.

     I shift onto my back and slip my fingers through my messy blonde hair. Mitch was my friend. Mitch had been my friend for my whole life and I had no right to try and jeopardize that with romantic feelings.

     We worked perfectly the way we were and I didn't have any right to ruin it. Mitch was a goddess and could have anyone he wanted, and that wasn't me. I was painfully aware of the fact that I needed to get over myself.

     My feelings for Mitch had been a constant thing for the past two years. We won the Sing Off and then were thrown into so much at such a young age, and through it all, our friendship had only intensified.

     He was always there for me, and I was there for him, and we were inseparable. We had the rest of the band of course, but the connection wasn't the same.

     I never used to believe in soul mates, but I couldn't deny that he was mine. Maybe not romantically, but he was still my soulmate. No one else would ever have the connection that we shared.

     So no, I shouldn't risk that connection.

     I shouldn't be hopelessly in love with Mitch Grassi.

     I couldn't feel this way about my best friend.