sing | scömìche

okay

It was late that night when Scott returned - so late, in fact, that most people would consider it early the next morning. He was obviously limping and his movements seemed to cause him great pain.

Mitch woke up at the sound of the door oping and immediately called a soft, "Scottie?" Scott jumped and winced at the pain in his ribs, leaning heavily against the wall as a wave of dizziness crashed over him. "Yeah?" he called back, his hoarse voice cracking from the effort. Mitch frowned and got up, carefully creeping over to him. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly, reaching up to cup Scott's cheek. Scott's eyes closed and he leaned into Mitch's touch, his breathing soft and weak. "Yes." Mitch hesitated, but took a step away from him. "Okay," he murmured uncertainly.

Scott nodded slightly and forced his eyes open again, trying to take a step. However, his legs gave out and he fell to the floor. Mitch's eyes widened and he rushed to Scott's side, falling to his knees beside him. "Oh my God, Scott, are you okay?" he rushed out, worried something was seriously wrong, but Scott simply nodded painfully. "Yes," he whimpered, trying to get up again, but he immediately cried out quietly in pain and stopped moving.

"What happened?" Mitch asked with worried eyes as he carefully helped Scott up and began to lead him to his bedroom. Scott didn't answer, not wanting Mitch to think he was a horrible person that didn't deserve to live.

He was, but still.

"Scott?" Scott still didn't say anything.

Mitch sighed, but dropped it. He gently pushed Scott down to sit on the bed, kissing his forehead and beginning to carefully unbutton his shirt. Scott's heart jerked and he quickly moved away from him, crossing his arms protectively over his chest. "No," he choked out, furiously blinking away the tears coming to his eyes at the pain. Mitch frowned and began to walk towards him again. "Scott, I need to see what's wrong—"

"No." Scott shook his head almost frantically, stumbling over his own feet in his haste to get away. Mitch opened his mouth to say something else, but Scott fell against the wall and shook his head even more as tears began to leak out of his eyes. "No. No. No." The pain was almost unbearable now. He felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out.

"Okay, Scott. I won't take your shirt off," Mitch said hesitantly and quietly, not wanting to startle him. Scott whimpered again, but relaxed, wiping furiously at his tears. "C-Can you p-please l-leave, s- Mitch? J-... Just for a second?" he asked weakly, and while Mitch had to admit he was a little hurt, he nodded and smiled gently. "Of course. I'll be out in the living room if you need me." And with that, he turned and left the room.

+++

An hour or so later, Scott still hadn't emerged.

Getting worried, Mitch eyed the closed door to his bedroom and debated going in or not. There was no sound coming from inside, so Mitch knew Scott could always be asleep, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

With a sigh, Mitch gave in and knocked carefully on the door. "Scottie?" He really got worried when there was no answer.

He hesitantly pushed open the door and edged inside, glancing nervously around. "Scottie?" he repeated, but instead of an answer, Mitch heard the sound of soft sobs from the bathroom and was immediately concerned. He followed the sound of the sobs to find Scott sitting naked under the shower, blood streaming down his sides and down the drain from long, jagged cuts on his chest and back. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks and his knees were held tightly to his chest, luckily hiding any parts that Mitch shouldn't see.

Or unluckily. Depending on how you see it.

Scott didn't seem to notice Mitch, too lost in his pain and misery. Mitch stood staring for a full thirty seconds, his eyes raking over Scott's body, before he snapped out of his trance, the fact that Scott looked like he had been whipped finally registering in his mind. "Scott?" Scott jumped out of his skin at the sound of Mitch's voice, pushing himself into the corner and sobbing louder. Mitch's heart cracked a bit in his chest and he hesitantly edged closer to him, his hands held out in front of himself to show he wouldn't hurt him. "Scott, honey, what's wrong? What happened?" he asked softly, but Scott refused to answer, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and holding his knees tighter. Mitch bit his lip worriedly. "You should get out..."

Scott sniffled. "C-Can you look away?" he asked weakly, and Mitch forced himself to obey even though he wanted to stare forever. Scott quickly turned the water off and stepped out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it tightly around his shoulders. He made a small noise so Mitch would know he could look, but didn't say another word. Mitch turned around and frowned at the sight of him, walking over to hug him gently. Scott tensed at his touch at first, but realized and hugged him back. He did his best not to make a noise of pain.

Mitch pulled away after a moment and stood on his tiptoes to kiss Scott's cheek. "I should get you cleaned up," he said softly, but Scott shook his head, closing his eyes against the tears that still flowed down his cheeks. "I don't have any bandages," he croaked, and Mitch's heart broke at how broken he sounded. "I'll be fine." Mitch sighed but decided to believe him, starting to go to the closet to get him some clothes. However, Scott whimpered and stopped him. "No. I'll do it." He quickly opened the closet, got some clothes, and closed it again before Mitch could see anything else inside.

After Mitch closed his eyes, Scott slowly and painfully got dressed, then reached pathetically for Mitch. Even though his body ached with every move he made, he refused to show up it, wrapping his arms around Mitch and burying his face in his hair. "Goodnight, Scottie."

"Goodnight."