reflection | scömìche

chapter three

this is so bad

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Mitch jumped awake at the sound of the shouts of his fellow men on their way to breakfast. He hurriedly dressed and fixed his hair, then cautiously crept out and looked around. When he didn't see any sign of Scott, he relaxed and followed the crowd to the mess hall, his arms finding their way around his stomach.

He timidly joined the line of loud and rambunctious boys and got his food, flinching at the strange looks everyone was giving him. He sat down in the corner away from everyone and silently began to eat, cringing with every bite.

Mitch was scared. He didn't know what to expect — he knew he'd probably be killed the second he set foot in battle, and he was so weak he would fall behind in training. He wouldn't be surprised if he got kicked out and sent home, but in a way he didn't want to. He knew his father would be furious, and he probably wouldn't be able to walk for a week.

Eventually, a loud bell rang and the boys got up, cleaning up their food and trailing out of the hall. Mitch supposed he had to follow, so he did, chewing the inside of his lip nervously.

The soldiers-in-training stopped in a big field. Mitch froze as he saw Scott at the front — he wasn't wearing a shirt, and his muscles rippled as he moved. It took everything Mitch had to not drool over him, and he had to force away the naughty thoughts creeping into his head.

"Alright, everyone! Get in lines!" Scott commanded, and instantly the men obeyed. Mitch was small, obviously, and none of the men wanted to be in front, so he was forced up in the very front line. Scott's icy gaze rested on Mitch, and his lips curved into a smirk. "Ah. Mitch, was it? I remember you," he said, and Mitch blushed at being addressed, nervously playing with the hem of his shirt. "You seemed a bit flustered yesterday, yeah? Why is that?" Scott asked, making his way over to Mitch and stopping directly in front of him. Mitch's breathing hitched and he glanced up at him, his gaze flickering to his lips. "Um, I- I don't know, s-sir." Scott smirked wider and crossed his arms over his chest. "Really? You don't know?" he echoed, a hint of teasing in his voice. Mitch subconsciously bit his lip and looked down at Scott's chest, barely keeping himself from touching him. "Y-Yes, sir."

Scott noticed, and he lifted Mitch's head up so the boy was forced to meet his eyes. "Your eyes are wandering, Mitch." Mitch flushed bright red and shrunk away from him, holding himself tighter. "I'm s-sorry, sir," he said timidly, but Scott just smirked and stepped away from him. "It's alright. Hopefully your athletic skill will make up for it."

+++

It didn't. Mitch was a complete failure, so much so that Scott had yelled at him twice. He was on the verge of tears by the time he made his way back to his tent that night. He didn't go to dinner.

Mitch laid down on his bed and curled up, burying his face in his pillow. He tried to cheer himself up by imagining someone's arms around him, but his mind kept flickering back to Scott, and his fantasies shattered. He sniffled quietly and forced back his tears, pulling the covers up to his chin and trying to fall asleep.

He was jerked out of his half-asleep state by someone unzipping his tent. His heart jumped fearfully and he quickly opened his eyes, scrambling up to press himself against the opposite end. Scott rolled his eyes and crawled into the tent. "Oh, relax. I'm not going to hurt you." Mitch relaxed a bit, but he just wrapped his arms around himself and watched him warily. "Wh-What are you doing here, sir?" he asked timidly. "I wanted to see you," Scott answered with a shrug, plopping down in front of him. Mitch frowned, tilting his head. "Um, why?"

"Because."

Mitch hesitated, but he nodded and fell silent.

Scott tilted his head as he stared at him. "Are you gay, Mitch?"

Mitch jumped at the question and blushed, nervously playing with his fingers. "Um, n-no, sir."

Scott raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't lie to me, Mitch."

Mitch flinched and whispered a small, "Yes, sir. I- I'm gay."

Scott stared at him for a moment, but he nodded. "Well, Mitch, I am too," he said, and Mitch looked up, surprised. "You are?" Scott smiled a bit and nodded again. "Yep. And you, my darling, have caught my eye." Mitch blushed deeply as Scott leaned in close and nibbled on his earlobe. "Now, I believe we both know we'll get in trouble if people find out, so I'll tell you what. If you don't tell my secret, I won't tell yours," he murmured, trailing kisses down Mitch's neck. Mitch's eyes fluttered closed and his head tilted to the side to give Scott better access, his breathing sporadic. "O-Okay..."

"Good boy," Scott whispered. He pressed a final kiss to his jaw before he pulled away and smirked at him. "Goodnight, Mitch." With that, he turned and crawled out of the tent.