Time After Time

The Dawning of Control

With his head in his hands, Mitch was sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to silence his thoughts. He was such an idiot - he'd almost given himself away. He was terrified that Scott may have heard the heartfelt confession that had slipped accidentally from his lips as they’d cried and so, in response, the brunette had locked himself away in his room. Before he’d left the taller man, he'd managed to drink his coffee, and had forced down half of the pastry he'd been given, but didn't want to be around the blonde any longer in case he was confronted. He threw himself backward onto his bed out of frustration, letting out a grunt of annoyance as he did so. He hated his inability to behave like a normal human being around his best friend, but he hated being apart from his best friend even more. Rubbing his face with his hands, the countertenor sighed. His head was filled with the grey mess again, but it was more confusing this time. It wasn’t a ball of sadness like it had been previously; it was a ball of fear. He couldn’t bear to lose Scott.

The weight of the meaning of his thoughts hit him like a ton of tricks.

The break up didn’t matter anymore. The break up was bad, yeah, of course, but that wasn’t why he was so fucking miserable. No, he was miserable because he had been shutting Scott out, and now he’d allowed himself back to the blonde, he didn’t want them to be apart. He allowed himself to think back to his previous relationships, and deduced that really, he was pretty good at recovering from heartbreak. He was also, however, good at pushing certain people away. His head, full of whirring confusion and terror, began to throb as he tried to piece together his thoughts and emotions. Feeling was confusing. Maybe it’d be better to just... not feel, Mitch told himself as he sat up like a puppet and began walking over to his dresser. He opened a drawer and began to feel underneath some of the clothes before he regained control of himself and snatched his hand away. “How stupid... How fucking stupid are you?” he hissed, shoving the drawer shut and backing away. He stared at the dresser as if it were a monster, his eyes wide as he ran his fingers roughly through his dark hair. He instinctively ghosted his right hand over his thighs, fully aware of what lay beyond his jeans. He didn’t trust himself alone in his room, but he didn’t want to face Scott. Allowing a loud sigh to escape his lips, he decided to take a nap. He pulled off his red shirt and ran his fingers gently over the bruises that still remained before slipping into his bed and pulling the blanket over his body.

When he awoke an hour and a half later, he was confused. He didn’t know why, though, which only made it harder for him to comprehend anything. He stared at the ceiling above him and allowed himself to think back to when he and Scott were younger, before they were teenagers. He could recall how they were inseparable and how much fun they had. He could also remember the moments he dreaded, the times when things hadn’t gone the way Mitch had planned. In an ideal world, Mitch would’ve been a heterosexual, masculine man with a beautiful girlfriend and a great life - with the added bonus of no scars, of course. Trying to picture himself as a masculine man caused him to laugh. Trying to picture himself with a woman made his skin crawl.

Mitch thought back to how amazing Scott had always been, the way that Scott had always been there for him – even when the brunette didn’t deserve it. He knew he was lucky to have a best friend like Scott, someone who would always help him and would be there for him. Fuck, the blonde had even saved Mitch’s life... Scott had saved Mitch’s life more times than the countertenor would ever allow himself to admit to anyone. Mitch’s eyes filled with tears as he thought of his past. He knew that he couldn’t keep himself away from the baritone any longer. If Scott knew how Mitch felt and cared as much as he claimed to, then surely the blonde wouldn’t be cruel enough to reject the younger man. Mitch could only hope that his best friend would spare him the pain and just not mention his slip of the tongue. Wiping away the stray tears, Mitch sat up and began to climb out of bed. He reached for his shirt and pulled it on before heading towards the door. As his hand reached the doorknob, it dawned on him.

In an ideal world, everything would be exactly the same, except the blonde would love Mitch in the same way that he loved Scott.