the book of fluff (that usually isn't)

would you be so kind pt. 2

so i may have gotten a bit carried away with this one

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Mitch got home late that night.

He had taken a different route than usual so he could pass the bridge. He stood at the rail for a long time, struggling to convince himself that life was worth it.

As soon as Mitch closed the door to his home, his mother began screaming at him, and he had to dodge a thrown bottle.

Mitch didn't get to sleep that night. After his mother beat him, he still had to do his homework, and even after that he was hurting too much to sleep.

The next morning, Mitch gingerly crawled out of bed as his alarm clock went off and quickly turned it off before it could wake his mother. He carefully changed out of the old t-shirt that was his pajamas and into a tight-fitted maroon shirt and leggings, then tried his best to make himself presentable, carefully putting concealer on his bruises and fixing his hair. As soon as an outsider couldn't tell he had been beaten within an inch of his life the previous night, he gathered his stuff and left the house.

Mitch tended to arrive at school as soon as they opened the doors, so he planned on getting about a half-an-hour sleep before he had to start the day. However, someone else decided they wanted to come early that morning.

Scott.

Mitch had his head down on a table at the library with his eyes closed when he sensed Scott's presence next to him, and he abruptly looked up, hissing in pain as his wounds ached. Scott frowned, reaching out to set his hand on Mitch's arm. "Are you okay?" Mitch flinched at his touch and brought his arm to his chest, holding it gingerly. "Please don't touch me," he whispered barely audibly, trembling a bit. Scott frowned more, chewing his lip. "Are you okay?" he repeated, and Mitch forced himself to nod, trembling harder. Scott hesitated, glancing around, and scooted closer. "Can I see your arms?" he whispered, hoping Mitch didn't hurt himself again. Mitch shook his head quickly, holding his arms tighter to his chest. Scott's heart broke at the fear in his eyes and he slowly moved away from him again, his heart breaking more as Mitch visibly relaxed.

Scott opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by Ben arriving and attacking him in a hug. "Scotty!" Mitch dropped his gaze to his lap, blinking away the tears blurring his vision. Scott smiled and hugged him back. "Hi, baby. How are you?" Mitch sniffled and gathered his stuff, standing up and leaving without another word. Scott's smile faded as he saw Mitch going, but Ben quickly distracted him by pressing their lips together.

What did I tell you? He doesn't care. You're just another one of his countless admirers, a petty sophomore. He'll never love you.

Mitch wiped furiously at his eyes to keep the tears from streaming down his cheeks, allowing his mind to wander to the day before in an effort to make himself feel better. He remembered how safe he felt in Scott's arms, how warm Scott's hands were against his skin, how he could feel Scott's heart thumping steadily in his chest, how sweet and gentle Scott's voice was as he murmured comforting words in his ear, how easily Mitch had stopped crying simply because of Scott's mere presence. He wished more than anything that he could experience that every day, but while Mitch was Scott's, Scott was not Mitch's. Mitch would just have to live off of that memory for the rest of his miserable days.

Mitch wanted to go home. No, that wasn't true. He wanted to go to Scott's house with him after school and sleep curled up in his arms. He was so unbelievably tired. Not just in the sense that he wanted to sleep, no — he was tired of life, tired of holding on only for someone who'd never care.