Seeing Through (Scomiche)

Chapter 7

A/N: You guys are the best. Thanks for all the views and the kind words and the comments for last chapter! 

I'm sorry if this is not what you expected. I'm also sorry if it's not my best work - I rewrote it countless times, but I had some rough days and this is the result. I will edit eventual mistakes as soon as I can.

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Scott woke up in the middle of the night feeling a weight on his stomach, holding him in place. His head was pounding, his stomach felt funny, and he needed to pee. Still dizzy from the alcohol he had ingested, he disentangled himself from the sheets and headed to the bathroom, not quite awake. He then went back to the bed, eyes half closed, barely noticing his surroundings, or the fact that he wasn't wearing any clothes. He felt a shiver and got under the covers, holding the warm body next to him without even thinking, and drifted back to sleep. 

It was almost noon when Scott woke up again. He opened his eyes, groaning loudly at the rays of sun creeping from the windows that were hitting his face. He turned on his back, and smiled when he felt the arm that was holding him shifts slightly. He felt like shit, and like every morning after a night out at a club, he swore to himself that it was the last time he had drank that much, because he could barely remember the whole night. What he DID remember, felt like a dream. 

Then, it all came to his mind. He sat up in bed suddenly, and regretted his stupid decision the second after. He stood up and quickly ran to the bathroom, barely making it in time before empting the content of his stomach. Even after flushing the toilet and washing his mouth, he felt gross. He wished it was just a collateral effect of his previous drinking, and not the guilt, that was making him sick in his stomach, but when he stood at the door that connected the bathroom to his room, looking towards his bed, he felt like puking again.

Holy shit it was not a dream. Oh crap.

He ran his hands on his face, unable to watch Mitch a second longer. Mitch. Naked. In his bed. There was really no mistaking things now. Besides, he could easily remember how his lips had felt, how amazing that boy's tongue was, and how good it had felt sliding inside Mitch, the sound of his moans, the bite on the hand that Scott had used to cover his mouth to prevent him from screaming..

He felt a blush creeping on his cheeks as he took a step forward, pulling the sheets to cover Mitch, who had his back completely exposed to the cold air. A back full of scratches, lovebites, even some bruises. A back that had Scott's mark on it. His mouth salivated as he remembered other details of the night and he had to force himself to back away from the bed.

Coffee. I need coffee. And maybe some holy water. 

He ran out of the room and went as far as the hallway before he remembered that he was not wearing clothes. He mentally cursed himself. He setted his mind in having just the solubile coffee they had in the cabinet, needing something to calm himself and understand what to do. But first, he needed clothes, at least boxers. He could go inside his room as quietly as possible and take some clothes out of the closet, but he didn't want to take the risk to wake Mitch up, Mitch, that was in his room, naked, because holy fuck they had slept together. He still couldn't wrap his mind around that.

Ok Scott, relax. Breath. Fuck no how can I breath I slept with Mitch. What was I thinking? What was he thinking? What should we do now? Our friendship will be ruined forever. Oh no oh no oh no. 

He had to take a deep breath before he could put himself in a full panic attack. He already felt his ears shutting, the body feeling numb although he had started to shiver. He motioned to the couch, cringing as his eyes finally took in the mess that was the living room. Their clothes were everywhere, every piece just reminding him over and over the huge mistake they had done. An amazing, exciting mistake, something that - he was sure about it - he would never be able to not dream about.