Gone (Scomiche)

I Love You

I remember the first time Scott told me he loved me. How could I forget, honestly?

He had admitted it first when we had been dating for about four months. We'd known each other for practically our whole lives and we had said we loved each other as friends countless times, which other boys found weird, but we didn't. It was just a thing we did. But as soon as we started dating, we didn't say "I love you" anymore because we knew it took on a different meaning.

It was a cloudy Monday morning in July and I didn't have any plans for the day. I was in my pajamas which consisted of some old sweatpants (which I was planning on getting rid of) and a white beater tanktop that clung to my chest and stomach. My hair was probably sticking out every which way, but I didn't care, I had just woken up. And of course, I was singing Beyoncé while dancing around the kitchen like an idiot. I grabbed the bread and popped two slices in the toaster and then danced my way over to the fridge. The jam wasn't anywhere to be found, so I searched, still dancing with my head in the fridge. I hadn't heard Scott enter the room. I didn't know when he had, but I found the jam on the door of the fridge and just as I turned around, popping a sweet dance move, there he was. Leaning against the wall. I stopped dead in my tracks and I heard the refrigerator door close behind me.
As to what I said, it probably went a little something like this: "I can feel your halo, halo, halo. I can see your halo, halo, h...ello there Scott. How long have you been standing there?"

Instead of answering, he stood there, one shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms, smiling. He shook his head a little before saying, "I am so in love with you."

I literally dropped the jam jar like they do in the movies. We both heard it crack, I'm sure, because it was the only sound in the apartment. Otherwise there was nothing. Nothing. I tried to move my mouth, but nothing came out. It's not that I wasn't expecting an "I love you" at some point it was just that... that... I dont know. It wasn't just an "I love you" it was a "I am so in love with you". And those were two very different things. I quickly finger-brushed my hair and stared at him.

He laughed a little. "You don't have to say it back."

He bent down and picked up the jam jar. It had a large crack in the thick glass, reaching from the bottom to three-fourths up the jar.

Somehow I found my voice, but I still couldn't say much. "I... I... I... I..."

He set the jam jar on the counter and grabbed the toast that had just popped up from the toaster.

"Ow, ow, hot, hot, hot," he said as he grabbed the toast and set it on a plate. Scott opened the jam and searched for a knife to spread it with, totally ignoring my stammering. He found one and started to spread the jam on a piece of toast.

"Scott... I..."

"Really Mitchie, it's okay, you dont have to say it back. It's just how I feel." He told me, almost shrugging with his voice like it wasn't a big deal. Well let me tell you, it was a big deal. I loved him, too.
He took a bite of toast and walked by me, ruffling my hair with his free hand. "Thanks for the toast."

Scott went back to his room, leaving me standing there, not knowing what to do and feeling guilty and stupid. Why hadn't I said it back?

After a few moments, I spread some jam on the other piece of toast and slowly ate it, but I wasn't hungry anymore.

Scott came out a few minutes after I'd finished my toast, whistling to himself. I was leaning on the counter, reevaluating my life choices when he entered.

"Hey Mitch, what do you want for your birthday?" He asked as he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

"I love you," I blurted.

He laughed and shut the fridge. "Mitch, don't say it just to say it. I know it's a big thing to say and I want you to mean it. Don't just say it because I said it. Now what do you want for your birthday?"

"But I'm not!" I argued.

He sipped his water. "Okay, okay. You're not."

"Seriously!"

"I'm being serious," he laughed.

I groaned and stomped my foot.

"Miiiiiitch whaaaaaat dooooo youuuu waaaaaant foooooooor yooooour biiiiiirthday?" Scott whined. "Seriously, it's in a few days, I need to know."

I debated whether or not to answer him because I was upset. "Anything Beyonce," I sighed, giving in. "And some new sunglasses."

"What about Beyoncé lenses on sunglasses so you're always staring at Beyoncé?"

I cracked a smile. "That sounds perfect."

He pumped his fist in victory. "I'll get on that."

It turns out he did 'get on that' by buying me new sunglasses and taping pictures of Beyoncé to them as a joke. He also got me a phone case with Beyoncé on it. But back to that night.

The day went by pretty slowly and finally it was time for bed. I crawled into bed at ten and stayed on my phone for an hour or so. It had started to thunder and lightning outside and I hated thunderstorms. Scott helped me get over my fear eventually and now I love them, but back then I couldn't stand them. I laid wide awake, shaking slightly with each loud boom. The door creaked open when it started to pour. The light spilled into my room and I could see the shadow of Scott.

"Mitch?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Are you doing okay? I know you hate thunderstorms."

I didn't answer, but my hand shook. He sighed and shut the door. I could hear the soft footsteps approaching my bed.

"Do you want me to stay in here tonight?" He asked.

I nodded, not sure if he could see or not.

"Okay," he said, probably seeing me through the dull glow the night was giving off. He crawled in beside me and took me in his arms. I shook less, but I didn't completely stop.

After a while of silence except for the rain, I whispered, "Scott?"

"Hm?"

My heart was beating incredibly fast.

"I love you."

He hugged me closer and murmured quietly, not being rude or pretentious, just sweet as always, "I know."