Pentatonix One Shots

I'll Be Yours

The dim light from the television was shining through the living room of the apartment and Mitch was curled up on the couch with a tub of ice cream in his hand and Wyatt snuggled up to the brunette, fast asleep beside him. He was trying to pay attention to the screen, but he couldn't keep himself focused. It was only seven in the evening and he was already fed up. Being single on Valentine's Day was just the worst. It didn't help that all of his friends were out on dates and so had abandoned the countertenor, leaving him with only old re-runs of shows he’d almost forgotten about. He sighed and scrolled through Twitter on his phone and sighed when he saw that it was pretty much dead – everyone seemed to have a date but him. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he tossed the phone down next to him and brought his legs up onto the couch, folding them underneath himself slightly. His shifting caused the sleeping Sphynx to stir, stretch and then mewl at his owner, annoyance clear in his expression. Rolling his eyes, Mitch reached beside him and petted the angry looking cat, who quickly curled back up again, settled down for another nap. Mitch took a mouthful of ice cream and grabbed the television remote – there had to be something more interesting on than whatever it was that was currently flying around the screen. A few minutes into his search, he realized that he wasn’t really looking. He quite frankly didn’t care about what was on the television – he just wanted something to do. Or was that someone to do? Mitch didn’t know and he couldn’t really be bothered to think about whether or not he cared. He was so bored. He considered getting up to pour himself another glass of chardonnay, but decided against it – it was too much effort to move Wyatt, get up, walk into the kitchen, grab the bottle, pour the drink, go back to the couch... There were way too many steps in that, and he was actually pretty comfortable where he was. He checked his phone once more, and then slipped it into the pocket of his jeans. Leaning his head back, he decided he’d rest his eyes for a moment or two, and then he’d go and get himself a drink.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was pitch black and he was startled the sound of a slamming door. Slightly drowsy from sleep, he glanced around the room and saw a shadowy figure stumbling helplessly through the apartment. Fully awake within an instant, Mitch clambered to his feet and approached the person quietly. The individual did not notice the countertenor until they were face to face, and then he averted his gaze down to the floor. Mitch frowned.

“Scott?”  At the sound of Mitch’s voice, Scott crumbled to the floor in a flood of tears.

“He broke up with me. He fucking broke up with me on Valentine’s Day!” Scott cried out as Mitch lowered himself to the floor and wrapped his arms around the baritone. The brunette was both shocked and perplexed – how could anyone be so thoughtless as to end a relationship on Valentine’s Day?

“What the fuck? Why?” Mitch said, managing to suppress most of his anger.

“He thinks I was cheating,” Scott said, crying harder now. Mitch was swiftly growing more and more annoyed.

“You weren’t, though, right?” Mitch found himself asking. He couldn’t comprehend why he’d let those words slip from his mouth, but he’d let them out. He held his breath, expecting Scott to be made. Instead, Scott just sifted awkwardly.

“No, but...” the blonde began, mumbling quietly. Mitch frowned and raised an eyebrow.

“But?”

“I’ve wanted to – I mean, maybe not. I guess I- No – Well, I like someone but I just – Just forget it,” Scott stammered. Mitch remained silent for a few moments, trying to figure out what his best friend had said.

“You wanted to be with someone else anyway?” the brunette said finally.

“I don’t think he likes me,” the baritone muttered, staring at a wall to his left. He couldn’t bear to look straight ahead; he didn’t want to see Mitch’s face.

“Most people would kill to date someone like you, y’know?”

“What makes you say that?” Scott sighed.

“Well, you’re attractive, you’re friendly, you’re famous – you’re basically the ideal man!” Mitch said, grinning slightly. Scott let out a hollow chuckle.

“I don’t think he’d want to be with me.”

“I’m sure you’re wrong. Why don’t you go and call him in the morning and tell him how you feel?” the countertenor suggested. His heart was beginning to ache. He’d carried these secret feelings deep down in his chest for so long, but he’d accepted that Scott would never see him as more than a best friend, and so, instead the brunette had decided that, as long as Scott was happy, then he was happy too.

“I might as well just tell him now,” Scott said, his voice emotionless, his expression unreadable. He looked so blank, almost as if he was trying to numb himself from any rejection he may receive.

“Are you sure? You might not be so desperate in the morning,” Mitch’s voice was kind, and he rested a hand on his friend’s leg. He’d support Scott no matter what the baritone chose to do.

“I just don’t want you to hate me,” the blonde murmured, bursting out into tears again. The younger man wrapped his arms tightly around the other man, trying his very best to soothe the sobbing man.

“Why on earth would I hate you?” he found himself whispering, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Because it’s you. I love you,” Scott’s voice was nothing more than a barely audible whisper, but, in the late night silence of the apartment, Mitch heard him clearly. He pulled back slightly, but only enough so that he could just about make out Scott’s features in the dark. He gazed into his best friend’s crying eyes.

“I could never hate you,” he breathed, leaning towards the other man and gently pressing their lips together. It was awkward, neither man too sure of where the other was, but, when Scott kissed back, their lips moved together with passion. Mitch held the back of Scott’s head as Scott snaked his arms around the brunette. When they broke apart, they were grinning widely, blushing and panting as they laced their fingers together. Using his free hand, Mitch pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed the button, allowing the screen to illuminate the dark room. The clock told him it was 11:55 PM. He turned the phone towards Scott, and smiled.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Scott,” the brunette thought for a moment, and then continued, “This is probably too soon, but... I’m yours, if you want me... I’ll be yours,”

“How could I say no?” Scott smiled. He didn’t care about break ups, or exes or anything else. He had the man he’d wanted for years. Scott leaned towards Mitch and their lips met briefly once again, “Happy Valentine’s Day, boyfriend,” the blonde whispered, and Mitch captured Scott’s lips in a sweet kiss.