Time After Time

Time to Talk

The cold morning crept in, and gradually collided with the afternoon. When Mitch finally awoke, it was around 2PM, and he had no idea how he’d found his way back to his bed. He could hear voices mingling together from the living room, and he clutched the blanket tighter to his small body, shivering from the cold. He pressed his head deeper into the pillow, trying to muffle the sounds of speech, yet he could still hear the soft mumbling. He sighed and pulled the blanket over his head. He felt like a small child again, playing in a fort. He was safe inside his cosy cocoon, and no one and nothing could hurt him. His brain provided him with vague memories of the night before, and he felt suddenly nauseous. They knew that he wasn’t eating. They all knew. But only Kirstie knew why, and he trusted her not to tell the rest of the group. She was nice – she wouldn’t break promises like that. Mitch quickly began to feel more afraid – what if she had told them? Oh, God, Scott would never love him if he knew the truth. Mitch felt his brown eyes fill with tears. He couldn’t lose Scott – the blonde was all he had. If Mitch didn’t have Scott, he’d be alone with no job and no home. Mitch knew that he could find a new way to earn money and he could find a new house, but his heart wouldn’t be in it. Home is where the heart is, and Mitch’s heart was most definitely with Scott. He was completely in love with the baritone, and there was nothing he could do, say, think or feel to get it to stop, which left him terrified. He felt as if he was just counting down the minutes until Scott got bored and ditched him for someone better and, let’s face it, everyone was better than the feminine countertenor. Anyone who said otherwise was clearly only lying to try to make Mitch feel better.

The bedroom door opened, and Scott walked in, snatching the brunette from his murky thoughts. The taller man walked over to the bed, and sat down beside his boyfriend. He pushed the blanket down, stripping the countertenor of his protection, and his face fell when he noticed Mitch’s tears.

“What’s wrong?” the baritone questioned quietly, brushing a few stray strands of hair from the brunette’s face. Mitch shut his eyes tightly, wishing that the older man would just disappear. He didn’t want to talk now. In fact, he didn’t ever want to talk. He just wanted to stay wrapped up in his bubble where he didn’t have to think about what was wrong and what was hurting. He knew that he would think of it anyway, but at least there were other things he could think of in his cocoon. He opened his eyes slowly, but tried his best not to look directly at the man who was looking down on him. Out here in the real world, he felt exposed and vulnerable. He wasn’t ready to face any of this shit yet. He just wanted it all to go away. He didn’t know how he was supposed to explain that to Scott, though, who had worry in his baby blues, and concern etched onto his perfectly structured face. He stared up at his boyfriend dumbly as tear drops strolled slowly, lazily down his cheeks. He was so exhausted – even his tears were tired. He wanted a way out of this situation, and easy way to make everything okay. A small part of his brain suggested something that he’d vowed never to try again. Just the thought of how his friends would feel made the countertenor cry harder, his chest heaving as he gasped.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out as Scott pulled him upright and clutched the smaller man to his chest.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, baby, I just wish you’d talk to me,” Scott whispered into his boyfriend’s ear. Mitch could hear the tears in Scott’s voice, and he felt instantly guilty. Once again, he’d managed to upset the person that he was supposed to make happy. Surely he’d be beaten for that – there was only so much of Mitch’s bullshit that Scott would be able to take, right? The countertenor cried harder and tried to fight his way from the blonde’s grasp, but Scott was too strong. Weakened by the lack of food and the constant crying, Mitch gave in and gently rested his head on his boyfriend’s chest, hearing Scott’s racing heart. Scott was shaking slightly due to the fear that had gripped him and that only strengthened the brunette’s feelings of guilt. Mitch knew that he was a useless boyfriend, but Scott didn’t seem to realize, and that irritated Mitch. He knew that he couldn’t lose Scott – it would destroy him – but he also knew that he was destroying Scott. He didn’t want to be selfish – he wanted to put Scott out of his misery. He’d have to end this pitiful relationship, even though he didn’t want to, because Scott wouldn’t listen. Scott was blind to Mitch’s flaws, and Mitch’s flaws were going to crush them. At that moment, it suddenly hit him that Scott knew of Mitch’s flaws, but he didn’t care. All the baritone cared about was Mitch. Was that why Scott was so worried? Was Scott genuinely so worried about Mitch that he’d been breaking down due to it all? If that was the case, then why wasn’t Scott talking about it? Why wasn’t Scott asking for help, reaching out for support? Why was he keeping it all locked up inside if it was hurting him that much? Maybe he was keeping it a secret because he didn’t want to hurt Mitch. Suddenly, the brunette realized how much sense hid thoughts were making. Maybe he had been trying to judge Scott unfairly. It seemed that he did truly care. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, and they held one another for a moment, until another realization hit the countertenor.  

Mitch wasn’t asking for help. Mitch wasn’t reaching out for support. Mitch wasn’t talking. Mitch was keeping it all locked up inside even though it was hurting him so much. He was such a hypocrite. How the fuck could he expect Scott to be open when he was shutting himself off from the baritone?

“I’m sorry,” the brunette repeated, staring up at his boyfriend’s red rimmed eyes. He reached up and brushed away a few of Scott’s tears, “This time, we need to promise that we’ll do this together.”

“Do what?” Scott asked, frowning.

“Talk.”