12. And I Don't Know Why You Couldn't Just Stay with Me
"Scott, the name?"
"It's Noah."
His heart felt like it weighed half a ton, and he swore that it was struggling to beat.
How did Fake Scott know?
"That's great. I hope that he's good to you. That's all that I care about."
"He's good to me, so far. We'll see. It's obviously new."
"Good. Let's go back out there. I'm still hungry," Mitch said, quickly. He needed to leave the situation before he broke down in tears.
How could this man put so much effort into saving him, just to leave him with nothing?
He didn't have Scott Hoying. He didn't have his Scott.
He had nothing.
Then, it hit him, their final conversation in the hospital.
----
"Thank you. Thank you for accepting this. Thank you for letting me get fixed again."
"A promise... is a promise."
----
The promise. Now it all made sense.
----
"If he stays, I stay," Scott growled.
Mitch's arms fell to his sides in shock. "What?"
"If Scott Hoying stays, you won't get rid of me. I'll drive you insane. I'll hurt him, and you'll have to watch every second of it. I swear to God, Mitch, don't underestimate me."
----
Scott had found a final way to rid Mitch of Scott Hoying. He drove him away with Avi, and then he left, because Scott Hoying was no longer a threat.
It wasn't until they were at a party two weeks later that Mitch had the misfortune of meeting Noah.
The man had a swagger about him that made Mitch want to dig his nails into the skin of his cheeks, scarring the man's handsome face.
Whoa. Mitch stopped himself. Go easy.
"It's nice to meet you, Mitch. Scott's told me a lot about you," Noah greeted warmly as he shook his hand.
"All good things, I hope," Mitch smiled through clenched teeth, eyeing the blond who looked downright scared.
"Of course. He says you're an incredible singer, and that you're hilarious," Noah replied, his smile never faltering.
Apparently, the guy was an idiot, if he couldn't pick up on the tension in the room. Mitch downed his beer and excused himself without another word.
Mitch looked over his shoulder as Kirstin approached.
"He's actually nice, you know," Kirstin said, warningly. "And you were a bit rude."
"I'm sorry that I didn't throw a parade for the guy who stole something from me, Kirst."
She shook her head. "Please don't go into this weird, possessive place again. He isn't yours."
"Yeah, you never fail to remind me."
She walked away with one final glare in his direction, and Mitch eyed a sickening sight across the room.
Noah was smiling goofily at Scott, inching closer to him, and he cupped Scott's cheek, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb before kissing him, gently.
It was so sweet, Mitch could throw up.
He groaned, earning himself a sympathetic pat on the back by Kevin.
"Distract me. Please," Mitch whined.
"That's gotta be tough, man. I'm sorry. But hey, moving on is a good thing. It's healthy. And Scott said you were doing the same?"
"Scott took a moment of weakness and ran with it without even asking me what was going on," Mitch muttered.
"So you didn't find yourself a handsome man when you were in the hospital?" Kevin asked with a teasing smirk.
"I kissed a guy once, Kev. Because Scott told me to."
"He... what?"
"My Scott."
"Oh. You're calling it that, again?"
Mitch glared at him. "Don't call him 'it'."
"Okay, okay. Well, it sounds like you're mad at the wrong guy. Noah's a good dude."
"Great. That's just what I want to hear. Tell me more about the man that the guy I love replaced me with."
"Mitch, don't snap at me."
The tone was stern, and it snapped Mitch out of his anger, effectively.
"You're right. It's hard," Mitch muttered. Kevin nodded, understandingly.
"I'm sorry, bud."
Watching Scott's eyes light up, watching this man make him smile, watching him touch him was physically painful as the night went on.
He was fighting back tears with all of his might, but he knew that it was a losing battle.
He knew that it was only a matter of time before they spilled over, like a bucket under a leaky faucet.
So, he drank.
Was his intention to become so drunk that Scott would have to help him to get home? Absolutely not. Was it poetic justice, watching Noah say goodbye to him at the end of the night, disappointed that he wasn't taking Scott home with him? To do God knows what?
Mitch gagged.
"Whoa. Easy. Almost there," Scott muttered, with Kirstin in tow.
"I'm sorry we ruined your night, Scott," she said, and Mitch rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, sorry we kept you from getting laid," Mitch said with laughter in his voice, but the words were slurred and bordered on hysterical.
They paused in front of their apartment as Kirstin unlocked the door. Scott stood silently with Mitch's arm around his shoulders, his hand clutching Mitch's waist to keep him upright.
He could easily let go and allow Mitch to fall on his face. But he wasn't. Here he was, Saint Scott again.
Mitch scoffed.
"Something funny?" Kirstin asked with a warning tone as the door opened.
"Yeah. Just thinking about how Scott can't seem to stop saving me. Getting annoying yet?"
He wondered if the other two had even understood his words. His mouth was having difficulty forming them.
Scott brought him to his room, still silent, and eased him to a seated position on the edge of his bed.
He turned towards the dresser, but flew forward again, catching Mitch as he fell face-first towards the floor. The blond cursed under his breath as he sat Mitch's limp body back up.
"Is he better than me?"
"Mitch."
"He's better than me, isn't he? He's perfect for you. He's so handsome. He's strong, and he's confident, and if he's in your classes that means that he's smart like you. And he can take care of you. I want to take care of you. But you won't ever let me. You never let me take care of you."
"Mitch, stop."
"Have you slept with him?"
Scott's eyes narrowed. "That's none of your business."
"So... you have."
Then the tears started.
Strong arms wrapped around him in a familiar embrace, and he unraveled in them.
He didn't care how pathetic he looked, anymore. He had nothing left to lose.
The first thing he registered the next morning was that his skull felt like it was shattered into several thousand pieces.
The second thing was that his heart felt heavy.
The third was that he was in a terribly awkward position, half-seated, and still in his clothing from the night before.
And the fourth thing he noticed was the body that was laying against him, and the arms wrapped tightly around him.
Vanilla and cedar.
"I'm sorry," he muttered as he sat up, feeling the body behind him stir.
Scott sat up beside him, rubbing his eyes.
"You probably don't feel so well. We have to stop drinking ourselves into oblivion for the other one to take care of."
Mitch appreciated the lame attempt at a joke to break the tension, but he wasn't in the mood.
"You didn't drink yourself into oblivion. You got roofied. And I did a better job, anyway. You left me in my jeans, and we fell asleep sitting up," he quipped, pressing his palms to his eyes.
"Sorry, your highness."
"I forgive you... but in reality, I'm sorry. I'm very sorry."
"Mitch-."
"Wait. I know that when I say sorry, it probably doesn't mean much nowadays, because I keep screwing up, because I'm just kind of nasty and annoying a lot of the time, but I really am sorry. I didn't mean to get that emotional. I'm... embarrassed."
"You don't have to be embarrassed around me."
"Why do you stick around?"
"I was afraid that you would get sick-."
"No. I mean, why do you stick around me in general? I'm miserable."
Scott shook his head. "No, you're not."
"I am, though."
"Well, I don't think so. I think you're sweet. And funny. And I think you're smart, and I like spending time with you."
"Go on."
"Wanna know what I don't like?"
Mitch's stomach lurched. "Not really."
Scott laughed. "Well, I'm going to tell you. I don't like how hard you are on yourself. I don't like how you always seem to feel like you're losing control, and then when you try to get it back, you aren't very nice. I don't like that you don't see all of the good things about yourself that everyone else sees. And I don't like that you self-sabotage. Oh, and-."
"I don't think I can handle another 'and'," Mitch replied, his eyes widening.
"-and I don't like that you will always take my breath away, no matter how hard I try to stop it."
Scott ran his hands through his hair, looking slightly aggravated.
"You make me feel out of control, and that scares me," Scott finished, staring at his hands in front of him instead of making eye contact.
"You make me feel the same," Mitch replied, and a weight seemed to be lifted with the words.
"I'm just... trying to give you the space to heal."
"What if I don't want space?"
Scott groaned. "You may not want it, but you need it."
"So I have to watch you? With that guy? While I 'heal'?" Mitch asked, placing air quotes around the last word.
Scott shook his head. "No. Maybe not."
Mitch felt hope bubble in his chest. Maybe Scott would leave Noah. "Then what?"
"I won't bring him around you."
That was certainly not the answer Mitch was hoping for.
"I think... maybe it's best if we... take a breather from one another?"
Scott turned to look at him, and Mitch saw something in his eyes that he had never seen.
Distance.
"I think I'm gonna be sick."
Mitch ran out of the room in the next moment, and made it to the bathroom just in time, allowing his broken heart and hangover to rear their ugly heads at once.
He heard the sound of voices in the living room, followed by the sound of his front door shutting.
Then, he cried until his tear ducts hurt.
The sun was setting when Kirstin finally came to check on him. The mattress dipped next to him, and he groaned.
"Can I get you anything?" Her tone was soft.
"Can you get me a different brain?"
He looked up at her, praying that he wouldn't start to cry again.
"I'm sorry, baby. I really am. I know you're hurting. I know that you've been hurting. I wish I knew how to help you."
"You can push Noah off of a cliff and convince Scott to love me again," Mitch deadpanned, but his voice was hollow and Kirstin's eyes glimmered with tears.
He felt dead inside.
"He's trying to give you time, Mitch. He sees that you're becoming too attached. He doesn't want you to replace one unhealthy thing with another."
"He could never be as unhealthy for me as a hallucination. That's just stupid."
"He isn't, at least. But your feelings for him could be. You're grasping onto him in an unhealthy way, babe. It's common for people with Schizophrenia to-."
"Fucking hell." Mitch couldn't take it anymore, and sat up. "Neither of you are my shrink. Did Dr. Chastain order him to stay away from me?"
Kirstin looked at him, wordlessly.
"Did she, or did she not, tell Scott to stay away from me?"
"Not in so many words, Mitch. But-."
"Then that shouldn't matter."
"You asked him about his sex life last night like his answer was going to determine if you threw yourself off of a bridge, Mitch. Not. Healthy."
"Well, he got what he wanted. I won't bother him anymore. I'm done. And I'm done with this conversation. You can go."
Kirstin eyed him sympathetically before leaving without another word.
"Everyone always leaves, after-all," Mitch whimpered, clutching his knees to his chest, thinking of his Scott again.
----
"Scott... please."
"You broke your promise," Scott whispered. "You promised me, just like everyone else... and you broke it."
Mitch sat silently next to the broken man, unsure of what to say. He was ashamed.
"Everyone always breaks their promises," Scott whispered. "Everyone always leaves."
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