Time After Time

A New Day

When the cold morning flew in, a groggy Scott rose from his bed, yawning. He could vaguely recall hearing Mitch come home late the previous night, so he tiptoed around his room, gathering items that he then used to clothe his tall frame and he finished his outfit with a carefully selected snapback. He quietly opened his bedroom door and made his way into the living room, where he audibly gasped at what he saw. Awkwardly chewing on his bottom lip, Scott stood still, all too aware of what the sight implied. Mitch was sprawled across the couch, face down and sound asleep. If it weren't for the uncomfortable position in which the countertenor was sleeping, he would have seemed almost peaceful. However, Scott knew that Mitch, in his slumber, was anything but at peace. He let his mind drift, allowing himself to imagine what Mitch may have been told this time, by this man, but the thoughts made him feel uncomfortable. He hated picturing situations. He didn't want his brain to visualise every single way that someone can break up with another human being, especially not when Mitch was involved. He didn't want to know what had been said to Mitch, but, at the same time, he did. He wanted to know so that he could feel a little more at ease.

Pulling himself from his racing thoughts, Scott began to creep towards the younger man, and felt his heart shatter and break for the fragile form as he did so. He knew that when Mitch awoke, he'd have to do everything he possibly could to distract the countertenor, whose fingers were tightly gripping the cushion that his face was resting upon. Scott knelt down in front of where his best friend slept and watched with a concerned expression as he saw Mitch's face screw up in pain. Scott moved his large hand to his own face to wipe away a tear that had fallen from his blue eyes. Knowing that Mitch was in pain hurt him too. He knew that, due to the events, the dark haired man would push him away, would shut him out and that left Scott feeling useless. The only thing that the blonde wanted to do was to help the smaller man, but he'd be lucky to be allowed such an opportunity.

Sighing deeply, Scott climbed to his feet and, casting another glance back at Mitch, he made his way into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. He was hungry, and he knew that Mitch, when he awoke, would be ravenous. The countertenor loved food, and would be especially starving if he had spent most of the night unable to sleep as he was crying. As Scott prepared their breakfast, he felt his eyes begin to leak again. All he wanted to do was to protect his friend, to keep him safe. Closing his eyes, Scott focused on his breathing, not allowing his thoughts to stray from inhale, exhale. After a couple of minutes, he felt composed enough to open his eyes and so he continued to chop the fruits that he had in front of him. Deeming there to be enough fruit, he divided them equally into two bowls and then placed them in the refrigerator. The tall man then grabbed his keys, before creeping through the apartment, past the sleeping Mitch, and leaving. The short journey to Starbucks was spent listening to his iPod, Beyoncé's voice playing though large white headphones as the blonde was terrified of allowing his imagination to run the way it wanted to again - wild, free and full of upsetting images. He bought two coffees and two pastries (gluten-free for Mitch) and made his way back home.

Upon his return to the apartment, he noticed that the couch had been vacated and the pillows had been scattered across the room. Nothing appeared to have been broken, luckily, but the older man was almost certain that they had been thrown intentionally. Mumbling to himself, Scott darted into the kitchen and set out both men's breakfasts before taking a deep breath and calling out to Mitch.

"Mitch! I've got you breakfast," Mitch's bedroom door opened and the brunette walked out, shoulders slumped, cheeks tearstained. He wandered into the kitchen as Scott took his place at their small dining table and the shorter man sat down robotically on his chair. He ate slowly, taking minuscule bites as Scott watched with a sad smile. "I'm sorry," the blonde tried, but Mitch didn't even look up; he kept his red-rimmed eyes focused on the food that was set in front of him. Scott nodded to himself and ate his own breakfast, unsure of how to act. He was all too aware that this could potentially go on for weeks and he didn't know if he could bear it. Scott, after only an hour of being awake with his now-silent best friend, already felt alone.