The Fragility of Hope (Mavi)

Chapter 19

When he woke again, he felt much more alert than he did before.

He was aware of the fingers laced through his own, the deep set pain in his bones and chest, and a very tired Mitch Grassi on his phone, slumped in the chair Scott was once sitting in however long ago.

"Hey," Avi croaked, smiling tiredly despite how awful he felt. It felt good to speak, though it still hurt his throat. The sound of his voice made his own chest rumble -- he hadn't felt that rumble in a very, very long time.

Mitch looked up from his phone and even though he had awful bags under his eyes, his eyes lit up as soon as he saw Avi. "Hey," he said with a smile, locking his phone and putting it in his pocket. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," he admitted. The simple words couldn't have been truer. Every single one of his muscles ached, his chest was heavier than it had been in months, and god damn was his throat dry.

"Yeah," Mitch frowned. "They took you off your morphine because they were afraid you'd get addicted."

Might be a little too late for that.

"Makes sense," he grumbled, but cringed when he tried to pull himself up.

"No no no," Mitch hushed, placing a hand on his chest and shoving him back down to the bed. "You're not gonna want to move for a while. You had, like, a mini seizure or something, and got your stomach pumped."

And then everything came rushing back to Avi -- about why he was here, and what he was probably putting everyone through. But for some reason, it didn't make him as guilty as it did before. It just made him sad, more than anything. "Sorry."

This time the guilt was here, but not because he was putting everyone through this. It was because he had to lie to Mitch.

The tenor just smiled and Avi knew that it was a little bit fake, albeit beautiful. "Just don't do it again, yeah? Promise?"

Avi didn't have the heart to make a promise that he couldn't keep, so he shifted his eyes away from Mitch and back down to the blood pressure tester that was clamped onto his index finger instead. If Scott had asked him that when he first woke up, then he'd agree instantaneously, without any doubt if he'd be able to keep it. But now that everything hurt and he was embarrassed and still fucking depressed... he'd much rather be dead.

He could only imagine the havoc he'd caused in their fanbase. No one told him how long he was out for, but he was sure it was long enough that people had started to worry. "Should I ask about the tour?"

Mitch shrugged and adjusted himself in his seat. "Canceled, indefinitely."

"Oh."

They were very awkwardly quiet, and it was too much for him, so he had to keep the conversation going (no matter how much he didn't want to). "What did you, ah, tell them?"

When Mitch shrugged again, Avi knew that the emotional turmoil in his head was probably worse than he was letting on. "We just tweeted that there were some personal emergencies happening. Everyone is more concerned than annoyed, really."

There was that guilt again. "Oh. I'm sorry."

Mitch nodded and let his eyelids droop. "Okay."

Mitch obviously didn't forgive him, but Avi didn't blame him. He wouldn't ever forgive himself, either. Especially for...

"Mitch," he said with a foggy voice. "About the letter..."

Mitch tensed his shoulders and his grip slackened in Avi's hand just the tiniest bit. "Don't," he whispered.