mute  ↣ scomiche

mute ↣ scomiche

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Scott looked into his eyes, almost begging him to speak. Then he heard a whisper, very faint and not much, but enough to give him hope. - tw; being mute, illness, slight sadness
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#284
mitch
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〝he sighed, not speaking, and after some time, i heard his breathing slow down to a regular pace, and i couldn't tell if he was asleep. "mitch?" i said. he didn't answer, so i assumed he was. "i don't hate you," i whispered, then looked up to the pitch dark ceiling. "i think i might actually hold a big liking for you." 〞 mitch grassi can freeze time, and he wants to know what a snowflake looks like before it melts, so he does what he can do; freeze time. unfortunately, he didn't focus on the snowflake and rather on the blond stranger roaming the los angeles streets, bumping into somebody that was completely still and muttering a string of words mitch couldn't comprehend. [completed scomiche short story]

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