Black And White

Twenty Two

Mitch was sitting at the table doing homework, when his father finally walked in.

Mike tilted his head a little. "That's not your shirt..?"

"No, Sir. It's Alex's. One of my friends from the soccer team."

"Ah yes. I remember Alex. You should bring him by sometime. Seems like a nice kid."

"Sure."

Mike turned to walk into the kitchen, having something else to do.

Mitch waited until Mike was out of sight, before he lifted the front of the shirt up to his face to smell it.

He grinned, Scott's smell being very distinct to him. That familiar mix of Old Spice and... Scott.

There's no other way to describe it.

*

There's no other way to describe it.

The excitement Scott felt when he saw Mitch's shirt laying on his bed. The smile that involuntarily came onto his face when he picked it up.

This feeling... There's really no other word for it, besides the obvious, is there?

Scott shook his head slowly as he felt how soft it was. It would have to be. Mitch's skin was so sensitive... He wouldn't have it any other way.

Scott flopped down on his bed, Mitch's shirt still in his hand, as he grabbed his phone to text Mitch and inform him that he'd forgotten it at Scott's house.

Then Avi called, so Scott talked to him for a few minutes, standing up to hang Mitch's shirt in his closet somewhere.

He stared at it for a few moments, smiling at how small it was in comparison to the large shirts it was hanging beside.

Scott cleared his throat, speaking to Avi again. "What? Yeah, I'm here."

*

The next morning, Mitch was running a little late.

Not only had he woken up twenty minutes later than he was supposed to, his father used up all the hot water in the shower and he didn't have time for breakfast.

Mitch came rushing out of the house, and when he was less than five feet away from Scott's car, he dropped both binders he'd been carrying.

And of course, of course, one of them had to open and leave papers everywhere.

Mitch sighed loudly, but kept his cool, as he hurried to collect all of them before he shoved his backpack into Scott's car. "I'm sorry, babe."

Scott just shrugged, phone in hand. "It's alright. We'll still get there on time, so don't you worry your pretty little head."

Mitch closed the door, and then sighed again, resting the back of his head against the seat. "Fuck."

"What's wrong? Long morning?"

Mitch nodded once. "Terrible, terrible morning. I didn't even get my whole routine done, and I'm upset."

"What did you need to do?"

"Well I didn't eat anything. Didn't get any coffee. Forgot deodorant and chapstick." The more he talked about it, the more irritated he became.

Scott shrugged, turning onto a different street. "Let's see... In the glove box, I've got chapstick. There's deodorant in the back of my truck. And I have coffee right here. We can stop for breakfast if you'd like?"

"We're already late, Scottie." Mitch grumbled, reaching into the glove box to put some chapstick on once he'd found it.

Scott smiled at him kindly, glad to help. "I'll get the deodorant for you when we get there, okay? It's all gonna be okay, babe. A bad morning doesn't mean a bad day."