Time After Time

Tell it All

Mitch, who was still covered in the evidence of the food fight, could hear shuffling from beyond the door, but Scott did not respond. Resting his hand on the door handle, he internally debated with himself - should he open the door? He wanted to - and, when things were okay, he wouldn't have hesitated - but things weren't okay, and he knew that. Because Scott knew. Scott knew how Mitch felt. Letting out a breath that hadn't realized he was holding, he knocked again. He heard some more shuffling, and some quiet footsteps before the door was opened slightly.

"Not now, Mitch," the blonde sighed, beginning to push the door shut. Mitch, with the words 'it's now or never' running through his brain, began to push the door too.

"I really need to talk to you,"

"I don't want to talk," Scott pushed harder, forcing Mitch back a little.

"Scott, I need to-"

"No!"

"Please!"

"I said 'no'!" Scott shouted. Mitch felt his eyes well up. He was terrified. He'd upset Scott and now Scott would surely want to hurt him. His bottom lip quivered, his eyes began to leak but he had to say it.

"I know that you know," he whispered, "and I'm sorry." the countertenor stepped away from the door, and the force of Scott's weight on the other side caused it to slam shut.

Mitch ran into his room and grabbed his suitcase before trying to shove as many of his possessions inside the container. Kirstie had been wrong - Scott clearly hated him. Everything was ruined. The grey clouds had returned, and the brunette sank to the floor in tears. This was why he didn't want Scott knowing. This was why he'd hidden his feelings for so long. He'd ruined everything. Scott wouldn't want someone as fat and ugly and weird as Mitch. Mitch was nothing more than a useless slut. Violent sobs ran through the small man's body as his eyes poured salty liquid. He hated himself. He'd always known, deep down, that he would never be able to be with Scott and he'd been grateful to have the older man as his closest and most valuable friend. Now he'd gone and pissed all over that precious friendship and left it in ruins. He curled up in fetal position in the middle of his bedroom floor, surrounded by various items of clothing and other personal belongings that he'd been trying to pack. He had to leave, to go somewhere else, but he didn't have the strength to move anymore; all of his energy had faded into tears. He didn't know what to take or what to leave or what would happen to Wyatt or where he'd go and his head hurt. He continued to bawl, unable to halt the flood that was filling his eyes and overflowing.

He wanted an escape from his head, which was hurling insult after insult at him. He wanted to tear all the fat off of his body, and the rip his skin to shreds with a blade. He wanted to destroy, to damage. His mind was decaying, a black stormy cloud of thunder, and he wanted his body to do the same. He wanted to sew his mouth shut. That way he would never say anything stupid and he'd have the added bonus of not being able to eat. His entire body shook violently as he cried. He wanted Scott to come in, to pick him up and to hold him, but the countertenor knew that that was impossible.

Mitch, wrapped up in his sorrow to the point where he was unaware of his surroundings, didn't hear the door open, nor did he hear it close. He didn't hear the awkward shuffling, and he was unaware of the figure that had knelt down beside him. A shaking hand reached out and rested on the brunette's upper arm. The small, sobbing form was startled, and moved quickly, his head almost colliding with the figure's. He stared, eyes wide, at the blonde man in front of him, and despite his attempts, could not manage to say a word. He felt as though his voice had been cut out.

"I'm sorry," Scott whispered, biting his bottom lip.

"No, no. I shouldn't have said anything," Mitch managed after a couple of minutes silence. His tears had began to subside, and his sadness had been replaced with pure terror.

"I'm glad you did, Mitch. But, what's all of this?" the baritone frowned, a look of pure concern in his eyes as he gestured to the mess in Mitch's room.

"I'm g-going. I don't want to make it worse," Mitch murmured. Scott looked horrified.

"Stay. Please, I'll do anything," the blonde begged, the panic running through his voice.

"I've ruined our friendship, Scott,"

"You haven't, Mitch, you haven't," Scott began, tears in his eyes, "I'm the idiot here, okay? Because I should've-" the older man stopped, and took a deep breath, "I guess what I'm trying to say is... I-I,"

"It's fine, Scott, I can go-"

"I think I love you."