Speak to Me. (Scömítche)

Chapter 17

POV: Mitch
It was hard to stop shaking in the hospital lobby. I was tired of waiting for news about Scott, and I was having a hard time wrapping my brain around tonight's activities.
I told Avi and Kevin about Scömítche. I cut Kirstie's hair. I felt bad about cutting Kirstie's hair. I came home. Avi gave me a panic attack over the phone. I broke the law by speeding. I got a glimpse of Scott's beaten body. I found out the truth about what happened. I punched Travis in the face. And now the stupid nurses won't let us through to see him. They won't give us any updates or anything. And now I'm reviewing my day.
Everyone in the waiting room looked either tired or completely destroyed.
Dang. I wonder how I look. I've been pulling my hair and rubbings eyes for hours.
Kevin was on the phone with Scott's parents. He talked calmly into the phone, like nothing bad has happened at all. Avi was tweeting and posting on Instagram about what had happened. Well, he skipped most of the details. Just that Scott got hurt. His phone was blowing up with worried fans commenting "get well soon" and whatever else. Kirstie wasn't here. I had called her earlier, but it went straight to voicemail.
The lobby looked plain and bland. Chairs surrounded the wall all the way around, and couches were placed in the middle. People were sleeping, crying silently, doing things on their phones, or reading the magazines spread out here and there. It was actually pretty interesting to look at some of them.
I was surprised when a fan who was crying nearby looked up and her eyes lit up. She smiled shyly and waved. She had to of been younger than ten.
I waved her over with a tired smile on my face. She walked over cautiously, and stopped in front of me.
"Your Mitch, from Pentatonix!" She whisper-shouted. I nodded and gave her a hug.
"What's your name?" I asked. I patted the seat beside me. I liked fans a lot. Most are so nice and sweet to us. This girl was a child. She looked like a stuffed animal.
"Samantha. But people call me Sam," she stared at my nose or something. She didn't look me in the eyes.
"Is someone hurt?" She asked me after a long silence. She made eye contact with me for a minute. I looked down at the ground.
"Scott is. Something happened, and they won't tell us what. But we promise. We'll be back making videos and doing concerts soon." She frowned.
"What happened to him?" She asked.
"I don't exactly know. I wasn't there. Why are you out here?" I wanted to cheer both of us up. I probably made it worse for her, but I couldn't think about Scott. Now while I'm oblivious to his condition.
"My brother is in surgery, getting a new pair of lungs. He has been waiting for forever to have them. I think he's resting. I'm not allowed in. He likes you guys to, by the way. Oh! I know this is probably air to ask for, but can I take a selfie with you? If you don't feel up to it, it's okay," she began to bounce a little in her seat. I just wanted to punch her cheeks, she was so cute. Of course I said yes. Even though I look bad.
"Sure. I'll do you one better, to." I posed for the picture, and I grabbed the pen and one of the magazines on the coffee table closest to me.
"What's your brother's name?"
"Eli."
"Alright. Dear Eli," I read aloud as I wrote.
"We're sorry to hear about your surgery. But we are excited to hear about your lungs! Good things happen to those who deserve it most. Come and see us on tour soon! We would love to meet you! Love, the members of PTX." She squealed when I gave her the ripped piece of paper from the magazine. Her sadness had disappeared. Mine had to for a couple moments.
"Your welcome, Sam. Tell him I said hi." She nodded her head really fast and gave me a quick hug.
"I have to go. But thanks again. This will make him think it was worth it." She walked away with a skip to her step. I had never really interacted with a fan who was sick. Or if I did, they never showed it. I thought it would be cool to hear their story.
-
I don't know when I had dozed off, but I woke up to Avi shaking me awake.
"Mitch. A nurse has info about Scotty." I shot up like an arrow. This was what I was waiting for.
A nurse in yellow scrubs came out with a clipboard. She stopped in front of us.
"Are you three direct family for Scooter Hoying?" She never looked up from her clipboard. I stood up to answer.
"No. But I'm the boyfriend, and they are the closest he has to brothers," I pointed at an exhausted Avi and a sleep-deprived Kevin. I'm surprised they had stayed awake so long.
"Can I have your names, please?"
"Kevin Olusola, Avi Kaplan, and Mitch Grassi," I said. She nodded.
"So he's doing alright. He's all hooked up. All we can do now is wait for him to wake up. He had been drugged pretty bad. His back also had multiple bruises. Those are being treated now. I'm ashamed to say that only direct family are allowed in at the moment. But you can return tomorrow. Should I add any names to the list?" I was relieved yet worried and pissed off. Why only family? That sucked.
"Kirstie Maldonado, Ester Kaplan, his parents and sister," I said. She put her hand on my shoulder, and made eye contact with me for the first time. I didn't need sympathy. If she even tried, there would be another punched face tonight. But she just smiled and walked off. I didn't question, but I still wanted to punch. Avi held me back, though.
"Let's go home and come back in the morning." I nodded, even though I really didn't want to leave. How could I?
"Alright."
-
Kirstie finally picked up the phone at two in the morning. I was lying in Scott's bed, taking in the smell of him, when Kirstie finally abashed to get back to one of us.
"Mitch?"
"Kirstie? Why weren't you at the hospital? Didn't you hear what happened?"
"I did. Avi called, plus #GetWellSoonScott is trending on Twitter. I'm sorry, but my driveway is blocked."
"By what?" I asked.
"Paparazzi. They saw you leaving my house. How many times have you said that Scott was your boyfriend in public? Because that's all they are asking about," she whispered into the phone.
"Um, twice? But how could they already know? Please don't say anything, Kirst. I'll make it up to you," I pleaded. She scoffed.
"As if I'd be the first one to crack," chuckled.
"Pfft. Whatever. Anyways, they wouldn't let us in. Just meet us there tomorrow. Alright?"
"Alright. I'm so sorry, Mitchie. You okay?"
"No. I'm really not. But he'll wake up soon."
"Okay. G'night."
"Night." The phone call ended there.
-
A/N: Hope you liked this. Samantha will be in the next chapter to. She is a small part of the story. But anyways, it's the weekend tomorrow, and I have really nothing planned. So free time. Free time=writing.