The Mute Fighter | 3

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I slowly pulled away, leaving Mitch to lean out to recapture my lips, but I put my hand on his cheek. "Wait" I said breathlessly.

"I meant what I said" I insisted, though I felt like a whiny helpless girl. Mitch nodded his head to my words, but leaned closer towards my face.

"I mean it, Mitch" I repeated, he hummed and slowly wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled my head down towards him. His lips were back on mine, where they belonged and I had no power to stop it.

I was weak as hell, I didn't have it in me to stop it. I wanted this. Fuck.

Hours later we were asleep in his bed, we hadn't taken it further than kissing. I wasn't that helpless. I slept in Mitch' shirt, my own was stained with a little blood and not at all comfortable to sleep in. So, Mitch was shirtless again. Not that I complained.

My head was on his bare chest as he slept, I began to trace my finger along his tattoos, I wanted to know every story behind each piece.

I was brought out of my daze when his hand began to run up and down my back, I couldn't help but smile a little as I looked up at him.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked down at my hand on his tattoos. He then looked at me, he slowly leaned down and pressed a kiss to my temple before pulling me further up.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled his head into my neck. I could hear him inhale deeply as his face hid in my neck and hair.

"Why is it that you don't speak?" I whisper quietly as I continuously run my hand through his hair. He froze at my question and I slowly stopped my movements.

I fucked up. I just knew I had. I waited for the outburst and even for him to throw me out. But it didn't come. I reopened my eyes as I felt him move out of my arms and his arms left my body.

"I'm sorry–" I started but he gave me a small smile. 'There was an accident four years ago. It was my father and I" He signed.

'My father is in a coma now and has been since' He signed. I nodded and kept quiet as I thought he would continue, but he didn't.

"What does your voice sound like?" I ask after a while. Mitch moves and reaches over me to get his phone, he opens it as he leans onto his elbows.

A minute later he shows me a video of a very, very young Mitch and Oliver. I hear their voices. Mitch was 14 at the time, I smiled a little as North filmed Oliver and Mitch moving around as they pretended to fight.

"Guys– look at West, he's losing it" Mitch had called out and a laugh escaped his mouth, it was like music to my ears. His voice, his laugh, it made me smile and laugh a little along with the others in the video.

I glanced up at Mitch only to see him bite his lip, his face showed anger and pain. The sight made my smile fall, I pressed the side of his iphone and the screen turned black.

"Your voice and laugh...it sounded beautiful. It's a shame I wasn't there to hear it" I half whispered and lifted his chin to make him look at me.

'It's not beautiful. It's the voice of a kid not knowing what was going on' Mitch signed and scoffed. "What do you mean?" I ask him, but he pulls away fully.

He gets out of the bed and walks towards his closet, pulling a new pair of pants and shirt. 'Get dressed, I'm taking you home' He signed as he grabbed his phone from beside me and then his keys.

I chuckled dryly before throwing the duvet off of me, I put on my pants and yanked his shirt off, I put my own on and found my jacket before walking past him.

"Don't bother. I can walk" I retorted and slammed the door after me. I stormed down the stairs and exited the house. It was three in the morning. I started walking home and scoffed a little in disbelief.

No way I would let him throw me out and then drive me home. No, just no.