'05 Ford Mustang

20

Scott sped his way home while Mitch laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, emotionless. He couldn't come up with a good excuse for his actions, a lie, an apology. Nothing. And what might seem like 'not a big deal' to a lot of people, was a big deal to the two of them. They said there wasn't going to be any sex until they said they loved each other. Mitch completely disrespected Scott's wishes, wouldn't even stop when Scott said to. Mitch was so caught up in what he want, what made him feel good, he wasn't even thinking about Scott.

Mitch knows that if Scott ever treated him like that, invading his body, touched him, kissed him, when Mitch pleaded for him to stop, Mitch would be furious. Mitch would've hit Scott, yelled at Scott, said something to upset Scott. Scott didn't do any of that to Mitch.

Scott's one to want to clear his head before talking to someone about something serious, especially something that hurt him. Mitch is one to go straight to yelling and pointing blame. To scream and make the other one feel guilty. The two were obviously very different.

Mitch hates it when Scott is mad at him. Hates it. To be fair, Scott isn't mad at Mitch much and doesn't get mad easily. Actually, take that back, Scott gets more upset than mad, especially when he was betrayed or hurt. Scott gets confused, confused as to why someone who says they care about him would ever hurt him because Scott is one to never want to hurt the ones he cares about, not purposely and never intentionally. Scott hates making anyone upset but is also one to go to great lengths to protect people he cared about.

It's been an hour of Mitch laying in his bed, the clothes from their midnight date still on and his hair a mess from pulling at it and tugging it in all different ways. It's now 2:06 and Mitch has yet to move from his spot since one o'clock. Mitch knew he has to eventually get up, get ready for bed. He definitely wasn't going to school tomorrow and he was definitely sleeping in and drowning himself in wine and chocolate tomorrow.

Mitch seems to be playing the victim, staying home from school, drinking, eating unhealthy foods, laying in bed till he knows he has to get up. And, truth is, he was. He was playing victim, he just didn't know it. He was acting like he's the one who has a right to be hurt, he's the one who needs to lay in bed and cry, he's the one who needs to do the yelling at someone else to get his frustrations out. He's not.

Scott, on the other hand, went home and immediately went to bed. Scott was ready to clear his head and rest and take his mind off what happened. He wasn't ready to sit there and dwell on it, he wasn't ready to cry about it, to point blame, to yell, to do anything. He just wanted to sleep. The one who should be the victim isn't the one acting like one. He's the one using some common sense, clearing his head before he starts to even think about it. He's the one acting like an adult.

Mitch eventually got himself out of bed at 2:38 and started getting ready for bed, for sleep. He didn't even take a shower, he just took a makeup wipe and took off his makeup, throwing it on his bathroom sink and turning the bathroom light off. He pulled the covers back and slid underneath them, clutching his duvet to his chest.