Mistake

Skittish

He knew those blobs always grumble about how much it rains, but Mitch loved the rain. Something about the blissfully dreary skies, the calm beating of small droplets against his window just put him in a relaxed mood. And on the off chance it wasn't raining, Mitch would be tense and uncomfortable until the rain began to pour again.

He enjoyed walking across campus in the rain, which he got to do practically everyday. Though he usually got rather damp, it calmed him down before the stress of classes, assignments, numbers... Just school in general. You could call rain a coping mechanism for him. He loved the way the dark grey clouds cover the sky as far as his big brown eyes could see. He liked the darker colors, he couldn't help that either. He always grew up in a room with dark blues and reds, and that could be why the dark sky comforted him.

Now, Mitch had some very bad memories in Texas, but some aren't so bad. He remembered as a child sitting in his dark room, coloring in his cheap coloring book with crayons he stole from his teacher, lit up under the little kitty lamp he had. Momma wouldn't let him turn the lights on after ten, so he always stayed up with that little lamp and colored until his fingers were numb. That was when he knew he wanted to be an artist. Right there, in that darkly colored room as a small child.

The dark gave him peace, and as soon as he moved into his dorm, the first thing he did was paint the whole room a soothing, deep red. He just liked it. It inspired him to draw, paint, anything he could get in the palm of his hand. In fact, after hanging up a few of those old coloring book drawings, he created one of his favorite paintings. That he hung up, too.

But, I feel we are getting off topic. Let's go back to the beginning, before we got into Mitch's life story.

Mitch: he's skittish, and when the dorm a couple doors down boomed loudly with a loud bass and beat, Mitch practically leaped into the air, his heart pounding uncomfortably against his rib cage, skipping a beat for a few seconds. His lungs forgot how to function for a moment, his whole body cowering with a nervous pit in his tummy. He jumped up from his place where he was nestled on his small office chair, immediately ditching the project he was working on at his small oak desk, searching the apartment frantically for his small, grey bundle of calm. Consider Wyatt another coping mechanism; the cat always seems to calm him. During storms, during the fireworks at Fourth of July, and through these loud parties that happened much too often.

He soon found him huddled under his bed, staring at him through the dark with glowing yellow eyes. Wyatt blinked at Mitch. He sighed in relief seeing the cat, and patted his knees and called for him, luring him out of his small cave and into his arms. Mitch took him up with open arms, gathering the small animal in his grasp and holding him close to his thumping chest.

Wyatt was a smart cat, he knew when Mitch got startled. So, he nuzzled his wet nose into Mitch's bare neck, purring and kneading against him and showing him all the love he could. Mitch could feel himself beginning to breathe more evenly as he sat on his bed with the cat in his arms, burrowed into the thick blankets. He kept his room as cold as possible, and these blankets keep him warm. He didn't really know why he did it, but it felt nice to have the cool air hit his face every time he walked through the door. Another comfort thing.

As soon as he calmed down, and realized he was in no real danger, he sighed and dropped his head against the wall in frustration, a loud 'thud' resonating through the cold room. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to focus now, not with the booming music and the loud cheering and banter from the room a few doors down. He hated parties. Always had, always will.