The Pact (Scömìche)(completed)

31 In his own words

"Yeah, I guess. I didn't really handle it that well."

"But that's not the album version. You sang 'Can't you see how much I love you' not both of you."

"You're only the second person to hear the original lyrics."

Deep calm enveloped him, the sea once again rolling gently and the storm blown over. Sometimes it was best to take the risk, open your heart and live your truth. Scott looked down at the piano keys. There was nothing more to say.

"Thank you," Mitch said after a pause.

Scott frowned. "For what?"

"Being honest and letting me in. Now move, I'm gonna play something." Mitch got up and nudged Scott away.

"Okay, okay, I'll go and get us another drink."

Scott returned to the sound of Mitch accompanying his peerless singing. He stood inside the door, bottle in hand, and listened. He needed this again, much more than he ever realised. The five members of Pentatonix never stopped admiring the skills each person brought to the group, but Mitch and Scott were, before their split, the ones most enamoured of each other. And everyone adored Mitch's vocal range and control.

"You sound amazing."

Mitch stopped playing and smiled bashfully. "You think so?"

"Of course, always." Scott came over to the piano and handed Mitch a glass of wine.

"It's been forever. Your party was the first time I'd sung in months."

"Don't you sing in the shower at least?" Scott frowned. Since when had Mitch stopped singing? It was something they'd always done, with or without an audience.

"Let's do something together." Mitch smiled, but Scott saw it didn't reach his eyes. He filed it away for later, and slid onto the stool beside him.

"Room for another one, let's go."

They began with one of their old Superfruit songs, occasionally stumbling over the words in Scott's case, playing chords on the piano and gradually relaxing. One song turned into an impromptu medley, with Mitch easily slotting into every song that Scott started. Mitch got up to refill his glass and stood by the piano while Scott played on, belting until his voice cracked, then downing more wine and belting again.

Soon the wine was finished, and they went back up to the living room with the empty bottle.

"Another drink?"

Mitch shook his head. "Thanks, but I'm good. I should be going." He smiled, and Scott could only nod in return. He ordered a cab and hid his disappointment as best he could.

"Okay, let me get your jacket."

He returned with the green velvet jacket. He watched Mitch's narrow shoulders as he shimmied into it, and inhaled his cologne. Always the same woody rose mix, and only detectable at close quarters.

Mitch turned to him at the door with a brilliant smile, bag in hand. "It's been a wonderful evening." He paused, and Scott held his breath. "Could we maybe get lunch next week?"

Scott caught the smallest hint of uncertainty, though his entire demeanour radiated calm confidence. Okay, I'll go by his voice and ignore the rest. At least until I get better at reading him again.

"I would love that. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I'll be in touch. Goodnight."

Scott went back to the kitchen and started clearing up. He couldn't stop smiling.