Mistake

Stars

{A/N

Ahhhh it's been one week and school is whipping my ass. Sorry this chapter is late, I just couldn't find a time this week where I had free time and wasn't exhausted. Sorry!!!!}

Mitch didn't end up making it through all his classes like he had hoped.

Art was fine, he was so hopped up on caffeine that he could some-what do his job, yet he was still lacking the focus he needed to actually finish something presentable. He ended up just sketching people's feet from under their desks while they worked, and he couldn't commit to anything more than their sneakers. It was a fun exercise for him, but it wasn't anything worthy for anything other than just solely practice. Ms. Jennin didn't mind, she knew how spaced out and ill Mitch was. She kept an eye on him all class, wondering if she should just send him back to bed or not. Mitch knew he wasn't contagious, and insisted on staying. By the end of the class Ms. Jennin had given them a new assignment that was right up Mitch's alley. Paint a sky, at any time of day or night.

Mitch loved painting skies. He preferred painting night skies, ones with thousands of bright and shining stars. It reminded him so much of Zach. It was relaxing, it was home, but it was so far away. Zach was so far away and sometimes if he painted the stars just right it felt like they're back on Mitch's roof and watching the stars twinkle by each other's sides. Sometimes it made him happy, sometimes it made him cry, but either way Mitch was excited to work on the painting.

His next two classes though, didn't go so well for him. They all involved heavy thinking that his brain was just not capable of at that time. English/Literature was the worst for him, not only the subject but the teacher. With his other class he was able to slack on notes, space out the whole time because his professor knew something was up, but this professor wouldn't let up, even though he knew Mitch wasn't in full health. He was an older man, a traditional man, and because of that he didn't like Mitch from the very beginning. Mitch wasn't straight, and it went against the professors beliefs, so even though Mitch was one of the best students in his class he just wanted to make Mitch's life a living hell. Mitch was a great person, very polite and no reason to be hated but he just wouldn't have it. He graded Mitch's exams harder than anyone else, picked on him for answers, embarrassed him when he didn't know them.

Mitch thought after that high school, teachers would change and this wouldn't be a problem but he was wrong. So, after Mr. Smitt's class ended, he'd had enough. He was tired, physically and mentally. and His fingers felt like they were breaking off at how many notes he'd been to take, his head absolutely throbbing, and he felt hot. Not the good kind, no, he felt like he'd been dropped in a volcano and he knew he was sick again and he hated it. He knew he'd have to skip tomorrow's courses for sure and he hated it. He was mad at himself for letting himself drink so much, knowing it would make him sick but he did it anyways. Overall, he was just done, and didn't even want to try to go to his very last class. Math.

Just the word alone made Mitch want to throw up his expensive breakfast, his stomach churning. So, he didn't go. He just couldn't make himself do it, and he didn't want to, so he found himself on the sidewalk that lead back to his dorm while all his other classmates had just began class. He would feel rebellious if he didn't feel so shitty.

The rain that had been falling while he was in his classes had, thankfully, ceased. It was almost like God felt sorry for him and wanted to do something to make it up to him. He already had it bad enough, ill, confused, exhausted. He was so thankful that it wasn't raining, he knew the rain would only make him sicker. It was muggy and rain definitely threatened to fall, but he made it back to the dorm without a single raindrop on him, dry to the bone which was so rare. He'd usually have to shower right when he got home and put on dry clothes but he had gotten out unscathed. At least something had gone well for him.