reflection | scömìche

chapter nine

so i'm going to start not censoring the curse words now oop

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trigger warning: homophobic slurs

Mitch felt a bit better the next day. He was able to get up without crying out from the pain, which was a great improvement. He bent to press a soft kiss to Scott's forehead, brushing his hair out of his closed eyes, and whispered a soft, "I'll see you at training, sir."

Scott woke up alone. He frowned and felt around for something to hold, but when he didn't sense Mitch, he opened his eyes to look around. He sighed as he realized Mitch left and decided to get ready for the day.

When Scott arrived at the field, Mitch was already there. However, he wasn't alone. There was another man there, and he was pestering Mitch, a smirk on his lips. Scott furrowed his eyebrows, being able to hear some of the things being said. "So, why are you here, slut? You're weak. You're not good enough for this army. Your gay ass is going to get everyone killed," the man said, shoving Mitch back. Mitch stumbled, but he quickly regained his balance, avoiding the man's eyes. "Leave me alone, John," he tried, but his attempt was weak. John just laughed and shoved him again. "Why should I, fag?" Scott tilted his head, frowning more. This was John?

"What's going on here?" he demanded, marching up the hill to see them. Relief washed over Mitch as he heard the familiar voice, but fear flitted across John's face and he quickly stepped away from Mitch. "He was harassing me, sir," he said quickly, pointing at Mitch. Scott raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his shoulders, staring coldly down at John. "Really? Because that's not what it looked like." John may have been tall, but Scott was still taller, and he definitely had way more muscle; he looked very intimidating, and John couldn't help but shrink away. "I assure you, that's what it was, sir. He called me names, and I'm sure he would've started beating me up if you hadn't come along," he rushed out, but Scott just scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I've known Mitchell here for longer than you've been here, and I can assure you that he would never hurt a fly."

"That makes him weak, sir."

"He is not weak. You are not to talk bad about him, understand?"

"But sir—"

"I wouldn't be picking fights with the general of the army, John," Scott growled, his eyes darkening.

John rolled his eyes, but he walked away.

Scott watched him go for a moment before sighing and turning to Mitch. "You okay?" he asked, his voice nothing like what it was before. Mitch mustered up a smile and nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you," he murmured. He wished he could hug him, but the rest of the future soldiers were coming and he didn't want to be caught.

After a long day of training, Scott approached Mitch when everyone else went to their tents. "Do you want to come to my tent with me?" he asked, and Mitch nodded quickly. "Yes, sir." Scott smiled at his eagerness, but he took Mitch back with him without another word.