*heavy breathing* I'm excited. I'm excited. Someone hold me :D Anyway, here it is! Um, there are triggers all over the place for physical abuse, so I'll put --> When it's a trigger chapter, and.... XXX for smutty/suggestive chapters. Love youuuuu~ ;) Btw, I know the rating for the story is R, but I honestly don't know how far it might get but hey. Yolo.
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Scott picked furiously at his sleeves, why was buttoning the sleeves of a flannel so damn difficult? He finally gave up and tugged on a light blue muscle shirt, throwing a Snapback on before heading out his front door.
It was picking at the back of his mind. He didn't want to think about it, as the topic deeply unsettled him. His mother had often fought precognitive dreams, and she warned him that he might encounter the same. Although, it had never been more than strange senses of Deja Vu every now and then. There was a man in my dream, and although he was bisexual this man wanted to make him lean in that direction more than anyone ever before. He had midnight black hair, thin and swept to one side behind his ear. Dark stubble covered his jawline and chin, shaven to absolute perfection. Hues of bronze regarded him with a blank expression, but it couldn't hide his pain. Scott saw right through him; his fears, his hopes, his dreams. He was speaking to the blonde, but Scott heard no sound. Instead, he watched his perfect lips move, outlined by his facial hair. Plump and smooth, they were almost too hard to resist, even in the dream realm. Scott quickly pulled himself from that memory, before the tightness in his pants would continue. Shit. Who was that guy?
He looked so...sad. What did it mean? What was it trying to tell me? Was he to meet him, or impact him in some way? Scott's rough hands worked endlessly on the shrubbery around his humble abode, smiling while did so. It really was such a good place; parents left it to him after they moved to Canada. Although, there is this really nice woman across the street from Scott named Mrs. Grassi. Scott came over sometimes and she makes schnitzel and roasted bell pepper pastas. She seems to really love exotic foods. After finishing and taking a quick shower Scott's long feet moved hurriedly towards that house smiling and tucking a gift back behind his back. The blonde's hand lifted, knocking a pattern that let her know it was him. Voices were muffled, several, and it was rather confusing; he thought she lived alone?
His lips split into a wide grin as the door opened, revealing the wrinkle - covered woman that Scott had come to love. "Scotty, boy! Come in, please!" As the young man walked in, he couldn't believe what he saw.
The man from his dream. Sitting right across from him. With that exact same fucking look on his face.
He was frozen for a second, not sure what to do before the other squirmed uncomfortably under his hard gaze. No pun intended. "Um, this is my son, Mitchell Grassi," Mrs. Grassi said slowly, already knowing why I was so smitten with him. Later, she pulled me into the kitchen before firing up the ovens to cook. "My Mitch was in one of your dreams, wasn't he?" Scott nodded slowly, fiddling with his hands. "Mitch has a son, Matthias. The father, Travis Bush....." The kind lady trailed off, leaving the younger one wanting more. But he knew it wouldn't be wise to push it.
"U-Um....I'm not sure what it means, but--"
"Newbie! Newbie!" The blonde whipped around as a naked boy, around the age of 4, ran toward him at the speed of lightning. He knelt, taking the boy into his awaiting arms to lift him until a distressed, soap - drenched italian appeared in the doorway. "Matthias Gordon! I told you not to leave the tub," he says sternly, but not harshly, holding his arms out expectantly. Scott obliged, and couldn't help but stare a bit at the Mitch's bum as he made his way back to the stairs. Definitely better than a dream.
"His husband abuses him," Mama Grassi (which was his nickname for her, other than Nan) spoke like there was fire on her tongue, spitting venom with every syllable. My mouth dropped open; how could anyone even think about hurting that angel?
"Travis gets drunk often. Too often," the woman sighed and lead Scott back into the living room to sit him down. "If you saw Mitch without a shirt...." She collapsed her head into her hands and began sobbing harder than the Hoying had ever seen her cry. By impulse, he moved to her side and rubbed her back, speaking softly in an attempt to calm her. "M-Mitch stays with him because....because he's afraid of what Travis might do if he.....he...."
"Shh, shh, it's going to be okay. He's an intelligent person, nan. I mean, he used to do 6th grade calculus in kindergarten--"
"How do you know that?" I whipped around at the confused looking beauty in the hall. his sleeves were rolled up on his bright red jumper, hanging lowly over his tight black jeans. "I-I...."
"Honey, don't you remember me telling you about this nice young man?"
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*still breathing heavily* *still breathing heavily*
I actually got interrupted tons. But here. *eye rolling* I'm excited, yo. Scott it psychiccccc ;))
YOU ARE READING
Savior | Scömíche {DISCONTINUED}
FanfictionScott is psychic. His mom had warned him of it, and he had learned to live with it... Until Mitch Grassi re-enters his life. //Art credit to @practicallyptx on Instagram//
