Disclaimer: I'm just a huge fan of the guys. I in no way think that this is how their lives should play out. I just love their friendship and hope they never read this, because I would simply die of embarrassment. :)
Chapter 1: When You Try Your Best, But You Don't Succeed
To say that Scott was tired was an understatement. Have you ever felt like your feet were stuck in mud? Each step he took was painfully difficult. He dragged himself up the stairs and was met with warm brown eyes under a cocked eyebrow.
"Welcome home," Mitch said, nonchalantly. He crossed his arms over his chest. Scott could feel the judgement.
"Thanks," Scott muttered and walked past his friend and roommate. He wasn't in the mood for this.
"Who was it this time?" Mitch asked as he followed. Scott's evident fatigue and sadness was irritating Mitch more with every passing moment. Why was he doing this to himself?
"None of your business," Scott replied, monotonously. It was meant to have a bite to it, but he didn't have the energy.
Mitch sighed and Scott turned to look at him. Scott's eyes were red, and underneath them were black and blue circles which had slowly darkened over the past several days. Mitch was convinced that if he were to press on the skin there, Scott would flinch as if he were bruised.
"Can I ask when the last time you slept was, at least?" Mitch asked with an edge to his voice. Scott knew that this meant he was skating on thin ice with his friend. He would have to appease him if he wanted to be left alone any time soon.
"I got some sleep last night, don't worry," he replied. The look on Mitch's face indicated that he knew this was a lie. Before he could respond, Scott had shut the bathroom door and the shower turned on.
Mitch slid down the wall beside the bathroom door and put his head in his hands. He wanted to scream. His best friend was quickly spiraling, and it was terrifying to watch. Scott was strong. Scott was sweet. Scott was beautiful. Scott wasn't... this. This was a shell of a person. This was a stranger. This wasn't the man that Mitch grew up with.
Scott was his anchor. He was the voice of reason. The amount of times that Mitch relied on Scott to pick up the pieces of his broken heart was almost comical to think about. Hell, he had just cried in Scott's arms for 48 hours straight not three weeks ago. They didn't move from the couch for what seemed like eternity, with Mitch sobbing into Scott's chest, clutching him for dear life. The sweatshirt that Scott had given him to wear came down to his knees and was definitely ruined with the remnants of Mitch's tears and snot. But Scott didn't care. He held on to Mitch for dear life, stroking his hair and whispering how stupid Beau was and how perfect Mitch is. Mitch fit perfectly there, resting against the tall blond. He felt safe. Part of him felt as though Scott saved his life in those moments.
This was frustrating. Mitch always allowed himself to be so vulnerable with him. Why couldn't Scott do the same? He had always been like this. He would hide his hurt, when they were dropped from their label, when he broke up with Alex, when he had his fight with Toddrick. Mitch could see his pain, but he couldn't figure out how to break down the wall that separated them.
Mitch's mind turned to Mark. This was all his fault. Mitch could feel his face turning red with anger. They had welcomed him with open arms into their family. He had been convinced he would be the Best Man in Scott and Mark's wedding. That thought always sent a small shockwave of pain through his heart, but he always overlooked it.
Scott and Mitch hadn't lived together in a few years. When they had become serious with their respective partners, they bought their own homes in LA. They weren't terribly far from one another, but they certainly weren't close enough in Mitch's opinion. In Beau's opinion, Scott could never be far enough away. Beau's distaste for Scott became more and more evident as their relationship progressed. Mitch was never able to put his finger on the problem. When he would ask, Beau would become frustrated and say things like, "He's just... too much. Drop it."
That should have been his red flag to leave.
One week earlier...
Mitch could hear the rain rapping against the windows. He hated being alone during storms. The thought of the power going out made him wrap his cardigan tightly around his middle and shiver. Tea. Tea was a good idea...
His jumped when his doorbell rang. Who in their right mind would be out in this weather? Abandoning his tea kettle, he went to the door and looked through the window. He couldn't open the door fast enough when he saw who was on the other side.
"Are you out of your mind? You're going to get killed out there!" he exclaimed as he pulled his best friend through the door. Scott's clothes were soaked through and he was shivering. His eyes were bloodshot. He remained quiet. Mitch began to panic.
"Let me get you something to change into. I'll get you some towels. And some tea. Or coffee? You should probably take a hot shower. I have more blankets in the other room..." He rambled and scurried back and forth from his kitchen to the living room where he had haphazardly thrown Scott on the couch.
Five deep breaths later, Mitch was able to calm himself down and returned with a change of clothes (he tried not to think about the fact that they were Beau's) and a towel. He took Scott by the hand, led him to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and kissed his silent friend on the cheek before leaving, shutting the door behind him.
Fifteen minutes later, Scott joined Mitch at the kitchen table, and quietly thanked him for the tea that was clearly meant for him. They sat quietly, the occasional sound of sipping or a teacup hitting the table being the only noise.
"I caught Mark cheating," Scott said after several minutes, his eyes blank and distant. Mitch's face fell. He knew it had to be something to do with Mark, but he was hoping it had been a mutual decision to break up, at least.
"Idiot." He couldn't help himself. His blood was boiling. Scott looked down and Mitch could see tears threatening to fall. He reached out and grabbed his best friend's hand.
"It was Mason. In my own house. They thought I was going to be gone longer, but my meeting was cut short due to the storm coming." His voice broke with the word "storm", and so did Mitch's heart.
"What did you do?"
"They both looked at me. I froze. I don't even know how long I stood there. But then I just turned around and left. Next thing I knew I was at your door. I'm sorry." Tears were running down his cheeks now. It was the only indication that he was crying.
Scott had been at Mitch's house ever since. They had taken some of Scott's things from his house when they knew Mark wouldn't be home. Mitch had texted Mark to get out of Scott's house, but he seemed to be dragging his feet. There was also the fact that he kept trying to call Scott. Mitch had taken Scott's phone and blocked Mark's number after a few days. Enough was enough.
Part of Mitch was worried that Scott was going to see Mark during the nights in which he wouldn't come home. Scott was always quiet when he would return. Hickies scattered over his neck and collar were the only indication of what he had been doing.
The bathroom door opening snapped Mitch back to reality. Scott emerged in sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He looked thinner.
"I'm going to ask you one question and then I will leave you alone if you are honest with me," Mitch said as he stood up. Scott faced him, quietly waiting.
"Is it Mark?"
Scott let out a dry laugh. It sounded foreign. It was hollow. Angry. "No."
Scott walked into his bedroom and shut the door, leaving Mitch feeling oddly relieved, and terrified at the same time that his friend was becoming more and more distant each time he left.
Please leave comments. I would love to know what you think of my word vomit.
