3. If I Need Some Other Love, Then Give me More than I can Stand
Mitch knew that he should find Kirstin. He knew that he should attend the party that he had come here for.
He knew that he looked absolutely ridiculous, sitting alone at the bar of a strip club, for crying out loud.
But he couldn't stop watching Scott move around the bar. He couldn't stop making note of similarities between the blond man in front of him and the one in his mind.
Physically, they were absolutely, one-hundred-percent identical. Their bodies were exactly the same size, with the same musculature. His jawline was an exact replica of the version in Mitch's mind, lined with just enough stubble to look like a mirror image. And those eyes were perfectly the same. Blue and piercing.
In terms of personality, Mitch could already tell that the similarities were much more scarce. This version of Scott walked around with a confidence of which Mitch's version would have never dreamed. He was friendly and seemed at-ease with himself, talking expressively and with an easy smile, even in the face of something that would make many people want to disappear.
Both versions were funny. Mitch could tell this much already. Scott spoke with a banter that reminded Mitch of the one in his mind, and he wondered how that was possible. And both had eyes that held a warmth that was comforting, despite their icy color.
"So what brings you and your little girlfriend here to an all-male strip club?" Scott asked during a lull in traffic. He held up a bottle of whiskey and raised an eyebrow in a nonverbal question, and Mitch nodded, accepting another drink.
Mitch felt a lump in his throat as he thought back to the day he met his version of the man in front of him.
----
"That's a cute picture of you and your girlfriend, or whatever..."
"She isn't my girlfriend," Mitch replied, his eyes narrowing at the man who was quickly becoming his enemy.
"Whatever. Anyway... don't hang it up."
----
Tears pricked the back of his eyes and he could only pray that the man in front of him wouldn't notice.
"She isn't my girlfriend..." Mitch spoke uneasily, unnerved by yet another similarity.
"Oh. That explains why she disappeared, then," Scott smiled softly.
"She's my best friend. We're here for a birthday party... somewhere..." Mitch continued, looking around.
"Do you always hang out alone at parties?" Scott asked, crinkling his nose, and Mitch's heart melted.
"Not always." He felt a sudden burst of an embarrassing level of confidence, he was sure, and he silently thanked the whiskey. "Just when I find someone I would rather talk to."
Scott appeared to light up at the comment. "Oh yeah? Who might that be?"
"My man, of course," Mitch responded with a smirk, referencing Scott's comment from earlier.
Where the hell did that bold statement come from? Mitch had no idea. But Scott was the one who said it first, not him.
It was received well, at least. Scott laughed. "Sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I just didn't want to see that guy hit on you anymore."
"No, trust me. I'm thankful." Mitch felt himself smiling genuinely for the first time in quite some time. "Wait... why not, though?"
Scott appeared to mull this over for a moment. "Because he's not worthy of your time or energy. He's a scumbag. And you're clearly better than him." He said the words like they were nothing more than a simple fact.
YOU ARE READING
Bent.
Fanfiction(Sequel to Unwell.) Mitch is trying to move on from what happened in the psychiatric hospital. Or is he?
