Mitch POV
I laid in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Scott laid beside me, his hand intertwined with mine, his eyes also fixed on the ceiling. Neither of us had spoken a word about last night, but I knew it was heavy on both our minds.
I hardly remember anything after Scott told me he loved me. Somehow we'd gotten back to the apartment and I'd fallen asleep, but it was all just a big blur in my memories. I couldn't tell if Scott had slept last night or not because I was afraid to look at him.
I was afraid I'd see pity in his eyes or worse, disappointment. He rolled over onto his side and in my peripheral vision, I could see him examining my face. I didn't want him looking at me like that when I felt so incredibly weak. I wiggled my hand free of his and then turned onto my side, my back now facing him.
"Can we please talk about this?" he asked, his voice sounding tired as he traced meaningless patterns lightly across my back. He probably hadn't slept. And it was my fault. As usual.
I didn't answer him. I honestly didn't feel like talking to anyone about anything at the moment.
"Alright then," he murmured.
I felt him get out of bed and walk around to my side. I stared at the wall behind him, my eyes purposefully avoiding his. He sighed.
He held both his hands out to me. "Come on," he urged. "Time to get up."
I didn't move.
"I'm not going to let you lie around and mope," he said, "Now get up. It's time for breakfast."
His voice seemed almost cheery, a complete contradiction to how it'd sounded a minute ago. It momentarily made me forget about everything that had happened. I grudgingly reached out and took his hands and he helped me gently to my feet.
He wrapped one arm around my waist once I was fully upright and supported most of my weight on the short walk to the kitchen. I appreciated this as each movement I made was still extrememly painful. He helped me sit down in a chair at the table and turned his attention toward the nearly-empty pantry.
"Hmmm..." he hummed, scanning the limited options for food. "Whatcha in the mood for?"
How was he able to act so normal?
I shrugged.
"Pancakes?" he asked, picking up a box of generic pancake mix.
I nodded, not really caring. He squinted his eyes as he looked at the small print on the back of the box. I watched his lips move slightly as he read the instructions quietly to himself.
"Fuck it," he announced playfully after a few seconds. "I'll just wing it."
I almost wanted to smile. Scott could not cook. This would be entertaining.
He poured the powder from the mix into a glass bowl and then stared at it, bewildered. A small giggle escaped my lips at his obvious confusion.
