Time After Time

Fear of Repetition

Scott had been sitting in his room all morning, cross-legged on his bed with his journal resting in his lap and his cell phone in his hand. He'd called Kirstie a couple of hours after he'd woken up as he had no idea what to think or feel. He was angry. But he wasn't angry because Mitch had read the note - no, that was embarrassing, but Scott wasn't mad about it. Scott was angry that Mitch was apologizing. Scott was angry that Mitch was telling him to stop crying. The blonde couldn't always comprehend Mitch's bizarre train of thought, but it was one of the many things he liked about the shorter man. Despite being annoyed by the other man's message, Scott was touched by the gesture, and relieved to know that Mitch did care about him, even if he didn't show it. He's just sad, Scott told himself. But Scott hated knowing that Mitch was sad. It made him uncomfortable - only he and Kirstie knew of how Mitch had been during their high school years. Scott was terrified that he could end up losing the countertenor altogether. Not wanting to even consider the possibility, Scott reached for his headphones. He needed some form of music to block out his thoughts, even if it did remind him of his friend.

After a while, Scott pulled off his headphones and listened to the silence before shifting his position so that he could stretch out his legs. Pressing a button on his phone, he checked the time. It was almost midday, which caused Scott to sigh. Another day was going to waste. He read over the note that Mitch had left a few more times, allowing his mind to wander a little, until he was snatched from his thoughts by the sound of the front door opening, and then closing. Mitch. Scott leaped to his feet, sending his notebook flying as he dropped the phone onto his bed. He hastily ran to Mitch's room, and stood in the doorway repeating the word, "fuck," as if it were a mantra. Mitch had left. Scott rubbed his face with his hands, exhaling deeply before his breathing quickened. Panicking now, the hyperventilating blonde felt tears prick in his eyes. He was supposed to be keeping Mitch safe and instead he let the countertenor run off to fuck knows where. Scott's mind was suddenly filled with the endless possibilities of what could happen to Mitch. He could get beaten. He could be murdered. He could be leaving to kill himself. Gasping for breath, Scott's cheeks were covered in a familiar shining liquid as his brain convinced him that his best friend was never coming home. Leaning on the walls for support, the blonde made his way back to his own room, barely able to see through the mist of tears.

Throwing himself onto his bed like a moody teenager, Scott found himself unable to halt the scenes that were playing through his mind: Mitch throwing himself from a bridge, Mitch crashing his car, Mitch stepping in front of a car, Mitch hanging himself, Mitch swallowing a bunch of pills, Mitch, Mitch, Mitch. All he could think of was Mitch. Scott couldn't live without Mitch and the countertenor knew that. Five years ago, Scott had driven Mitch to the hospital after a bad breakup. Five years ago, Scott had promised to protect Mitch, no matter what. Five years ago, Scott had, through tears, told Mitch he couldn't live without him. Five years ago, Mitch had tried to end his own life.

Scott couldn't remember how he had been the one to find Mitch unconscious on the bathroom floor, but he had. Ever since that day, Scott had been terrified to allow Mitch too much freedom, but had let the countertenor have the freedom anyway out of fear of upsetting the younger man. He didn't know how to treat the other man anymore - he'd never asked out of fear of looking stupid. He had no idea how to act around Mitch; all he knew was that he wanted to protect the brunette. He couldn't bear to imagine losing his best friend. The pain still swam from his eyes, gently dancing down his cheeks as his breathing gradually returned to normal. He cried silently, his head resting in his hands, until he was snatched from the swirling mess in his mind by a loud noise.

His phone began to play a song Scott knew, but couldn't place in his startled state, but it brought him back to reality. The blonde picked up his phone, and saw that he had a new text from Kirstie. An almost paralyzing fear took hold of him – what if Kirstie had found Mitch’s body? Biting his lip, he read the message.

Mitch is okay. He’s at my house :)

Relieved, Scott burst out laughing.