Scent (Scomiche)

Connecting With Others is Hard in General

"Yeah, I believe that was the last time I saw you."

"It was, yeah. Anyway, I started going to this little bakery called Scott's Scones because I missed the pastries that I would always get at the coffee shop I worked at, needed to stress eat with my new job and everything. Became pretty good friends with the owner, who is now downstairs, spent a lot nights there with him. Then his house started on fire because his dumb husband was smoking, almost killed his daughter along with him, but luckily she survived, and is now also downstairs. So he died, meanwhile Scott's house was a wreck, so they lived with me, eventually Scott got his own place and now he lives there with Lindsey. I still go to the bakery, but I'm broke because I got fired from the bank and work on a by-the-hour pay from Target. However, it's Christmas and I figured maybe you'd enjoy a visit, so I decided to stop on over. Actually, Scott convinced me to."

My dad takes a few seconds to process everything, but what he ends with is, "I really like your friend Scott."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Well, I'm sorry you lost your job, but I'm sure you'll find something better than Target."

I roll my eyes and go to stand up. "Okay, yeah, thanks Dad. I hope you enjoyed your late Christmas dinner."

"Mitch, wait," he pleads as I'm standing. "I'm trying to connect with you, I just don't know how."

"Let me know when you figure it out," I say and shuffle away from him and downstairs. I walk right past Lindsey who's laying on the floor in the tiny family room outside my bedroom. When I open the door to my bedroom, I find Scott lying there, pleasantly reading his book. He glances up at me when I come in.

"How did it go?"

I don't answer and instead walk right past the bed, around to the other side, get into it, and shove my face in my pillow.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

I move so my mouth is off of the pillow but the majority of my face is still on it. "Wanna know what I got from that conversation?" I mumble.

Scott shuts his book and sets it to the side. "Hm?"

"That he really likes you. I told him a summed up version of the past eight years of my life. He told me, after that, that he really likes you." I move my mouth back onto the pillow and groan.

"I am pretty likable," Scott laughs. Then more seriously, "Mitch, it's okay if this trip isn't how you wanted it to be. It's okay to go home after this and never want to see your dad again."

I flip on my side. "Right now I just want to sleep."

"Okay." He turns off the lamp and slides down and takes me into his arms, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

I don't want to jinx it, and I definitely don't want him to stop, especially when I can feel his muscles pressing into my back, but I feel the need to say something. "Scott?"

"Hm?"

"What..." I pause, debating if I really want to ask. "What are you doing?"

He places his chin on my shoulder so he's hovering above my ear. "Spooning you."

I laugh a little. Somehow he can always make me smile. "I am aware of that."

"Then what's the prob?"

I shake my head. "Nothing," I settle on. "Nothing's the prob."

I can feel the air flow out of his nose that signifies a satisfied smile, then he places his head back down on the pillow behind my head. Whether this is because he misses Christian or he actually wants to cuddle, I don't care, because right now my best friend and the person I've had a massive crush on for over a year is holding my body close to his.