"People aren't perfect, Mitch. You should know that everyone has secrets and demons they'd rather keep hidden. It's easier, less painful when they're gone."
Those were the last words Mitchell Hughes heard from his mother before she died from lung cancer.
♡
"C'mon Mitch, let's go. This place creeps me out." Jason whispers quietly, nudging the pale, brown haired boy softly.
Mitch stares wearily at the weathered gray stone. With a heavy sigh, he follows Jason over the wrought-iron fence and back the three blocks to his home.
♡
He doesn't like being babied. Mitch is almost thirteen and that's a teenager by everyone else's standards. He's the youngest and smallest in the seventh grade, with dusty brown hair that never lays flat, dirt brown eyes, and a scrawny build, standing at 4'10. His father tries too hard to also be a mother, but men can't really be women or a mother. No matter how many cookies they bake, or how many awkward conversations about girls the two share, Mitch's father can't fill the mother shaped hole in his heart.
♡
Jason admires the posters hastily tacked onto Mitch's bedroom walls as Mitch sits cross-legged on the bed. Of course, they're of bikini-clad women leaning suggestively on expensive cars. His mother got a few as a joke and even though he hates them, Mitch can't take them down. They talk about cars, about school, about Penny Lane, the prettiest girl in the grade. Jason notes the emotionless tone to Mitch's voice when they get to talking about girls.
Mitch really isn't sure about his sexuality. Sure, there's Penny Lane who has really nice caramel brown eyes and shiny mahogany hair, but there's also Adam Dalhberg and his super cute dimples and thoughtful green eyes. He wants to be straight, his grade isn't totally accepting of gay people. When Ty came out, a few boys from the ninth grade taunted him mercilessly until he transferred schools. Mitch knows he's about as straight as a circle, maybe he's bisexual like Grace, who currently has a boyfriend.
Jason and Mitch are caught up with mindless gossip, grades, anything and everything. They're wallflowers, they're the background in the portraits, the music in restaurants. They know everything but share nothing. That's the way it goes for a while.
♡
Mitch slips his navy backpack onto one shoulder before meeting with Jason to walk home. He's "popular" now, ever since he became emotionally closed off to people and handsome. The girls swoon at his cool persona, not to mention being the senior every girl wants but can't have. A group of giggly freshman stare wistfully towards the two striding through the doors of the local high school, daydreaming about Mitchell Hughes.
"I gotta go to the library, I'll catch up with you tomorrow. Good luck on your date, man." Mitch says, winking playfully at Jason.
With a roll of his eyes and a light punch on the shoulder, Jason turns at the cross-section. Mitch makes his way to the public library, a place with lots of secretive nooks and crannies that the sexually-active band geeks seem to enjoy. He walks to the back where the only light source are two lamps and the beanbag chairs sit haphazardly on the floor. Mitch sinks down into his favorite one, an old, burgundy, hole-y thing that he used to read fairytales with his mother in. He sticks his hand underneath the dilapidated thing, searching for the hole where he hides the book of fairytales. Mitch flips to his favorite one, Beauty and the Beast, and a light smile graces his pale face.
An hour passes by before he hears the muffled thwump of another person in the other beanbag chair. He looks up to find a lanky boy with an uncommonly large nose and doe brown eyes examining him curiously. His first reaction is anger, this is supposed to be his spot, his secret sanctum. If he's considered Superman to people, then he should have a Fortress of Solitude also. His second reaction is not as aggressive. It's a public library, others should be allowed to share it. However, finding this particular section is impossible. It's a winding labyrinth of shelves and corners, only he and his mother knew where the beanbags were.
Apparently not, he thinks as this stranger pulls out a pair of tangled headphones and plugs them into the headphone jack on his phone. Mitch notices irritatedly that the boy has his music quite loud and he can hear it from a good half-foot away. With an even more irritated sigh, Mitch taps the head-bobbing music listener on the shoulder.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes, you can. Could you please turn your music down?"
"Sorry, that's one thing I can't do. However, I'll share my ingenious taste in the glory that is music and offer you an earbud."
Mitch is suddenly reminded of Augustus Waters, and he pushes that thought back where all of the other unnecessary thoughts clamber for more important spots in his mind. The stranger, Mitch nicknames him Augustus in favor of the complex book character, offers him an earbud and without hesitation, takes it and places it into his ear. Brendon Urie's melodic croon fills his head and the fairytale book drops to the floor.
♡
this is gospel, for the fallen ones
locked away in permanent slumber
assembling philosophies,
in pieces of broken memories
the gnashing teeth, and criminal tongues conspire against the odds
but they haven't seen the best of us yet
if you love me, let me go
if you love me, let me go
'cause these words are knives and often leave scars, the fear of falling apart
and truth be told I never was yours, the fear, the fear of falling apart
this is gospel, for the vagabonds, never-do-wells, and insufferable bastards
confessing their apostasies, led away by imperfect impostors
don't try and sleep through the end of the world, don't try and bury me alive, 'cause I won't give up without a fight
if you love me, let me go
if you love me, let me go
'cause these words are knives, and often leave scars, the fear of falling apart
and truth be told, I never was yours
the fear, the fear of falling apart
the fear of falling apart
the fear, the fear of falling apart
the fear of falling apart
♡
Mitch listens to the song once, twice, five times and still, "Augustus" doesn't switch songs. He doesn't care though, he can play it as much as he wants because the song has wormed its way into his mind. Even though the music has stopped, it still plays on in his head. He knows this stranger knows him because this song reached deep into those unimportant thoughts and pulled out one. The fear of falling apart.
He searches the stranger's face for something he can recognize and then he sees it. Jerome Aceti. The quiet blind boy. A long white scar runs down the side of his face, marring the smooth tan flesh.
"I know, Mitch. There's some secrets you can't hide. I know you're gay, I know your mother died, I know-"
"Stop. You don't know anything."
"Oh, but I do. People aren't perfect, Mitch. You should know that everyone has secrets and demons they'd rather keep hidden. It's easier, less painful when they're gone."
Mitch is speechless. Then, Jerome leans in, taking Mitch's face in his slender hands, and kisses him.
It's rough. Jerome's lips are chapped and sloppy and Mitch can't help it when all of his senses are saying this boy is dangerous. Yet, he kisses back. Mitch wants to feel something after not feeling in a while and Jerome Aceti is just so imperfect that it makes his heart do backflips. He knows that Jerome is right about him. He knows that Jerome has more complexities than Mitch can ever know but as they kiss heatedly in this small, unimportant place in a public library, Mitch knows that Jerome will be worth it. They're both birds with broken wings, learning to fly. Mitch knows that if he falls apart, Jerome will piece the broken shards back together and make him whole. And somewhere, deep down, that fear of falling apart disappears.
oneshot written by bajancanadians
