Need (Scomiche)

Nine

Here's some angst for your Monday. If you like it, definitely leave plenty of comments!! Enjoy!

-

It's not an art show.

When Scott leads him through the doors to the event he had convinced Mitch was his friends art show, Mitch feels guilty.

It's a full-blown fashion gala, instead. There are designs spread out among the pristine white room, models gathered in groups, and designers taking advantage of the bar. Mitch's heart is pumping erratically, the sight before him something from his dreams. Scott did this - he did it all for Mitch. He planned, probably bought ridiculously expensive tickets for this surprise event, took Mitch to dinner. and even made sure Mitch didn't look like a fool in front of designers and models by planning his outfit. And Mitch had upset him instead, said they should skip the event that Scott had wanted to surprise him with.

"Scott," Mitch says quietly, shuffling closer to him and following as Scott heads directly to the bar. They had some wine at the restaurant, but only a glass or two each. "Scotty, please. I'm sorry."

Scott ignores Mitch, orders a drink first, but eventually turns around. He's attempting to glare down at Mitch, but his eyes seem too soft, and his expression is too sad to look angry.

"I didn't know..." Mitch says. He doesn't want to cry, but he feels the familiar sensation in his nose, in his throat, blurring the edges of his eyes. "I didn't... I never would have. I'm so sorry," he whispers. "This is amazing - everything." He voice breaks off, tears welling in the corner of his eyes. He's going to cry at a fashion exhibit, and he feels ridiculous.

Scott frowns, reaching to rub at the tears, pressing Mitch close to him. He kisses his forehead. "It's okay. We can talk later." Scott holds him. "It was important to me to make this night special. I want you to enjoy this. We can handle everything else later. Please don't cry."

Mitch bites at his lip, nodding and rubbing his eyes. He turns in Scott's arms, lets his eyes scan the room. It's breathtaking. Mitch notices some important people, too. Although the brands seem more niche and this is no New York Fashion Week, Mitch still recognizes that some of these designs are pricey and hard to find. There are models littered throughout the crowd, too. Mitch thinks he can even recognize some of the designers standing proudly by their work.

His heart still feels a bit heavy, lowered down toward his stomach with guilt of how he'd hinted they skip this event that Scott had known Mitch would really enjoy - that Scott had chosen specifically for Mitch. He hadn't known, of course, but he doesn't think it excuses his actions.

Mitch tries to have a good time, though. He gawks at the beautiful designs and the models strutting around, listens intently as designers talk to small groups about their creative process. It's truly overwhelming, being here. He wishes Scott's warm hand on his back, arm around his waist, was less of a reminder of how he'd messed up.

Scott is polite, though. He seems to be trying to momentarily ignore what happened earlier, encouraging Mitch to get closer to the designs and designers. He even urges Mitch to talk to one of the fashion designers. Mitch is a mess when he does, but it's an experience he'll never forget - one he never would have had without Scott.

Eventually, the crowd dwindles down and there's not much time before the gala closes. Scott takes Mitch's hand, leads him out to their car.

"Thank you," Mitch starts during the ride home. They've been driving for a while, and Mitch is grateful to have had some time to think. "Really. Thank you so much. That was so... thoughtful."

"I thought you would like it." Scott hums.

"I'm really sorry," Mitch says quietly. "I never meant to hurt you. I didn't know this was so special. I made an ass of myself."

Scott sighs, "I know you didn't mean to." They're pulling into the parking lot of Scott's apartment complex. Scott turns off the car once they're parked, but he doesn't move to get out. "It just scares me," he says. It's so quiet, barely a whisper.

Mitch unbuckles his seatbelt, reaches over the center console to take Scott's hand. His other winds up cupping Scott's jaw, turning his head until their gaze meets. "Baby, why?" Mitch runs his thumb along Scott's cheek, an attempt to soothe him. His heart cracks at Scott's broken expression, notices the slight flinch when they meet each other's eyes.

"I don't want this to just be about sex. It started that way - sex, the cuckolding, y'know? But I don't want it to be that. I'm in this Mitch. I-I'm fucking in this. I'm in it for you. Fuck. You are everything. You're beautiful and kind and smart and I love you." Scott breaks away from Mitch's touch, rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. Mitch thinks he hears a sniffle, and it breaks his heart.

"Scotty," Mitch breathes. "You're so much more than sex to me, I promise. I wasn't - I never meant to make you feel like this. You mean so much to me, you have to know that."

Scott closes his eyes, breathing in and out slowly to calm himself. He whispers, "I just get so scared."

"I'm so sorry," Mitch says. His voice is small and broken. He's doing all he can to hold back tears. "I care about you so much, I'm just no good at showing it. I don't even deserve you." Mitch sighs, his fingers digging into his thighs where they rest. He wants so desperately to touch Scott, comfort both of them with touches as he tries to soothe him with words, but the image of Scott brushing him off just moments earlier is ingrained into his brain. "You're the most amazing guy I know, and it just - I always want to be with you, touching you, talking to you. I'm drawn to you, everything about you. You're so fucking important to me. I wish I was better at making you feel that way." It's Mitch's turn to sniffle. His chest feels so warm, like he's going to burst.

"Mitchy," Scott breathes. He finally turns his head back to meet Mitch's gaze, eyes puffy, red, glossy.

"Please - you have to know." Mitch takes a deep shaky breath when he realizes how desperate his voice has gotten. He blinks slowly, lets his eyes shut. He's so scared, giving so much of his heart so quickly to Scott. Then he wonders if it's been a quick process at all, thinks that maybe he's been giving Scott pieces of his heart every since he met the beautiful boy sitting in the driver's seat, that maybe his chest feels burning how because he's finally completed Scott's collection, given him all of it. "I'm in this just as much as you are. In this for everything, for all of you."

Scott lets out a little choked sob, and Mitch's eyes open, and Scott gives him a beautiful smile, just turns up the corners of his mouth.

"I believe you," Scott whispers, tears running down his cheeks. Mitch smiles, full of hope and adoration. Scott reaches over the console, takes Mitch's hands and pulls him as close as possible, bending forward slowly. Their lips are only inches away, breaths ghosting along parted mouths. Scott huffs a small laugh. "Sorry I'm all snotty."

Mitch giggles tearfully, shakes his head and laughs more when their noses bump. He presses forward, they kiss softly, sweetly, and Mitch sighs happily. He's in awe over how quickly something as simple as Scott's touch seems to cure his earlier emotions, make his chest feel full.

Eventually, Scott pulls back, presses their foreheads together. He's still got tear tracks running down his cheeks, and Mitch can't wait to take him inside, press a cool washcloth over the evidence of his crying.

"Let's get inside," Mitch says quietly. The car is cooling, a slight chill setting into his bones. He wants to go inside, cuddle into Scott's warmth after the heavy conversation they've had.

Scott nods, begins to lean back. Mitch goes to, but he's stopped with a big hand on the back of his head. Scott presses his lips so gently to Mitch's forehead. "I love you."

Mitch smiles, his chest burning.

He thinks he loves Scott, too.