the book of fluff (that usually isn't)

insecurity

trigger warning: self-hate

Mitch took a deep breath in an effort to stop the tears from flowing before he bent down and picked up the broken shards of the glass he'd just dropped with shaking hands. "God, Mitch, you're so fucking stupid," he mumbled angrily to himself, dropping the glass in the trash and not even caring when one shard sliced his palm open. "Scott will never love you once he finds out what a fucking clumsy whore you are. You're such a fucking idiot, you should just fucking kill yourself." His tears had begun to flow, and he rubbed his eyes hard with his uninjured hand in an effort to stop them as he ran the cut under water. "Scott wouldn't miss you, he hates your ugly ass. How could he love you when you're such a disgusting piece of shit? No one would miss you. No one gives a flying fuck about you. You're so fucking stupid, thinking they care about you. You're nothing but a worthless slut who deserves to fucking die." He sniffled and removed his hand from under the water to wrap it in a paper towel, watching the red of his blood seep into the white of the towel. "Fucking idiot," he mumbled to himself, quieter than before. "You deserved that."

When Mitch's hand finally stopped bleeding, he rubbed his eyes again before trudging up to his room to shower. He stripped out of all of his clothes and turned on the shower, but it was soon forgotten when he caught sight of his reflection. Tears filled his eyes again almost instantly, and he poked at his stomach with distaste. "Look at you. You're so fucking fat, Mitch. Scott will never love you," he whispered, squeezing his stomach. "No fucking food for you." His gaze flitted up and made eye contact with his reflection, and he physically recoiled. "Disgusting. Go die." He turned away so he couldn't see himself anymore and finally stepped into the shower.

He hardly focused on what he was doing, as most of his attention was devoted to tearing himself apart. A steady stream of obscenities and insults left his lips, and his tears mixed with the shower water.

Mitch was still muttering to himself when Scott got home. Naturally, the blond was immediately concerned when he saw the dried tears on Mitch's cheeks. "Mitchy?" His worry increased at Mitch's lack of response; Mitch was too caught up in his self-deprecation to hear him. Scott bit his lip and set his keys in the dish before he made his way over to Mitch and cupped his cheeks. "Mitchy?"

Mitch jumped, and his eyes abruptly focused, though it took a moment before he registered the sight of Scott. He flinched slightly and pulled away to stare at his lap. Scott frowned and sat beside him, reaching out to take his hand. "What's wrong, baby? You've been crying."

"No, I haven't. I'm fine." Mitch's voice was weak and pathetic, and he flinched again at the sound of it. Shut the fuck up, you useless whore. No one wants to hear your ugly ass voice.

"Hey," Scott soothed, running his thumb over Mitch's knuckles. "You know you can tell me anything, darling, I promise I won't judge you. I want to help."

You don't deserve me. "It's nothing, Scotty," Mitch whispered, and he even managed a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes. Yeah, that's right. Don't fucking burden me with your stupid problems. That won't make me love you, either.

Scott knew Mitch better than that. He shook his head and scooted closer, reaching out to take his other hand as well. "Please don't lie to me, my sweet angel. It's okay if you don't want to talk, but I need to know if something's bothering you so I can try to fix it. I hate seeing my precious flower so sad."

Mitch sniffled and pressed himself against Scott's chest, burying his face in his neck. Fucking weak. Scott softened and wrapped Mitch in his arms, gently holding his head where it was. "Talk to me, princess."

"I..." Mitch took a deep, shaky breath, reminding himself that this was the real Scott, the one that (he hoped) loved him. "I guess I've just been a bit down on myself lately," he admitted timidly, squeezing his eyes shut in a fruitless attempt to quiet his mind. Great. Just fucking great. Do you want me to hate you? Because that's what you're doing. God, you're such a fuck-up. Can you do anything right? Maybe if you weren't such an attention-seeking whore you wouldn't be so repulsive.

Scott frowned immediately. "Aw, baby... Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful mind?"

"Th-... There's a voice. In my head. And it's..." Mitch hesitated, swallowing hard. "It's yours." Scott, clearly surprised, started to say something, but Mitch shook his head and buried his face deeper into Scott's neck. "You're the one telling me that I'm worthless and ugly and stupid and it- it hurts more. R-Right now you're telling me that you'll never love me because I'm such an attention whore a-and it scares me because I don't want it to be you, I- I don't want you to see me the way I see myself."

"Oh, Mitchy," Scott whispered, and Mitch couldn't help but lean into his gentle touch. "I love you. So much. You are so strong and so beautiful and you inspire me every day. There is nothing you could do to change that. So tell that Scott in your head that he's wrong. Whenever you need anything, I'll be here, because I love you and I want you to be happy more than anything."

Mitch let out a soft, pathetic sob, and he crawled fully into Scott's lap, curling up against his chest. Scott lovingly cradled Mitch close, rocking him gently and murmuring a string of sweet nothings. "Scotty?" Mitch whispered timidly, peeking up at him with tears glistening in his brown eyes.

"Yes, love?"

"I-... H-He's so loud, p-please make it s-stop..."

Scott frowned and nodded. "Alright, princess. I got you," he murmured soothingly, scooping Mitch up in his arms and carrying him upstairs to their bedroom. Mitch wrapped his arms around Scott's neck and buried his face in his shoulder, trusting him to do what he needed.

Scott pressed Mitch down on their bed and kissed him slowly. Mitch scrunched Scott's shirt in his fingers and kissed back, his eyes slipping closed immediately. Scott slipped his hand up Mitch's shirt to rest on his warm stomach, and Mitch shrank instinctively away from the touch. Fatass. However, Scott just ghosted his lips down Mitch's body and kissed where his hand was. "Beautiful," he murmured, and the Scott in Mitch's head faded.

This went on for what felt like hours. Scott would touch an area on Mitch's body, the Scott in Mitch's head would hiss in his ear, and the real Scott would tell him he was beautiful. By the time Scott finished, Mitch was completely naked, and tears streamed down his cheeks as he listened to his Scott's words. The Scott in his head was gone, replaced by his Scott, the real Scott. He felt far from beautiful, but maybe he wasn't as disgusting as the voice said he was.

Scott moved back up to be level with Mitch and pressed a kiss to his jaw. "I love you," he whispered against his skin. "More than anything in the universe."

"I love you too," Mitch murmured back timidly, his heart racing in his chest.

Scott pulled back just enough to meet Mitch's eyes. "May I make love to you?"

"Please do," Mitch whispered, and Scott caught his lips in a passionate kiss.

+++

The only thing Mitch could feel was love.

Scott's warmth was all around him, filling his senses and consuming him from within. Mitch loved it. Mitch loved Scott.

After they made love, Scott wrapped Mitch in his arms and pressed repeated kisses to his hair, murmuring an endless stream of sweet nothings. Mitch closed his eyes and savored the intimacy, so unbelievably grateful he had Scott to pick up his broken pieces. He didn't fully believe every word Scott said, but he wanted to.

"I love you," Mitch mumbled, burrowing deeper into Scott's arms. "I don't know what I'd do without you. I'll try to believe you."

"Thank you, baby. I want you to love yourself, and I'll stop at nothing to make sure you do one day. And I don't know what I'd do without you." Scott kissed Mitch's forehead. "I love you too."