Mitch was a very.... Skittish person.
He always had been, and probably always will. He can't help it, it's not his fault every time there's a loud clap of thunder he practically jumps out of his tan skin. It's not his fault he can't wear headphones in public because he's too scared something will happen and he'll only realize when it's too late. It's not his fault he doesn't sleep very well because every little noise wakes him up. He's a very, very light sleeper and that doesn't mix well with the campus dorm he lives in next to loud, rowdy young adults. It's not his fault. He can't help it, so he doesn't try. He accepts it, and lives with it.
You could say he's paranoid, but he doesn't like to think of it that way. The word is so..... Degrading. It makes him sound weak, and he doesn't like that, even if he is rather small and not a very strong person muscle-wise. He prefers something less de-humanizing, like skittish. His friends don't understand, though he barely has any. But that's okay, he has all he'll ever need in his little homey dorm: his grey, hairless cat, Wyatt, and all the art supplies he could dream of. Not to mention the wifi on the campus was incredible. Lucky for Mitch.
When he decided he wanted to major in Art, he haphazardly applied to many schools without realizing how far away from home they were; he was desperate to get away from home anyway, so when they accepted him to a highly-ranked school all the way in the heart of Seattle he was surprised, but happy non-the-less. He was ready to get out of Texas, to leave all the memories of his childhood he didn't want lingering around behind him. Texas, don't get Mitch wrong, is an amazing state in itself, but not for him. It held too many memories he'd rather not relive, too many things that still haunt him.
So when he packed everything up that he needed, he barely took anything other than fresh art supplies. Everything else he owned reminded him of too much, and he couldn't bare to look at them anymore. Each teddy bear he had smelled a bit too much like his mother; they all had a faint smell of alcohol. Well, it wasn't exactly faint. They reeked of vodka, all the way down to the little stitches holding the furry fabrics together. Each bed spread he ever owned all smelled the same. And so did his clothes, and his furniture, and everything else in that house. He wanted a fresh start, and that's what he got. Seattle was a state of opportunity for him to get away, and it's what he needed. He was able to get out of the little apartment he shared with his mother, and he couldn't have been happier. Now he doesn't fear that his mother will come into his room drunk at night, he doesn't have to worry because she's so far now. His own little home doesn't smell of whiskey. It smells fresh. And Mitch couldn't be happier about it.
The city life excited him, but he barely got out of his dorm unless it was to go to his courses. Though it was exciting in the new world he entered, you know, bright lights and the big city, he was just too skittish to enjoy. The yelling on the streets, the honking of car horns, the bypassing of loud planes overhead... it could get too much at times for Mitch and his persona. But that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy it. He does, and he likes the way he enjoys it better than actually going out. He watched life from his window.
He often peered out his window, often to find it blurred with rain, but he liked that even more. The rain distorts reality, makes it look more like a cartoon rather than real life. The people are morphed into blurry blobs that could belong in a comic book, the buildings only blurry blocks of color. It was Mitch's favorite show. He looked over the wall enclosing the campus, and he watched the city folk bustle about almost every day.
He liked to observe them. He liked to see what the blobs do. He often saw the blobs in a frantic hurry, most with smart technical devices held to their ears, trying to get somewhere as fast as they could. It amused Mitch.
He knew those blobs always grumble about how much it rains, but Mitch loved the rain. Something about the blissfully dreary skies, the calm beating of small droplets against his window just put him in a relaxed mood. And on the off chance it wasn't raining, Mitch would be tense and uncomfortable until the rain began to pour again.
He enjoyed walking across campus in the rain, which he got to do practically everyday. Though he usually got rather damp, it calmed him down before the stress of classes, assignments, numbers... Just school in general. You could call rain a coping mechanism for him. He loved the way the dark grey clouds cover the sky as far as his big brown eyes could see. He liked the darker colors, he couldn't help that either. He always grew up in a room with dark blues and reds, and that could be why the dark sky comforted him.
Now, Mitch had some very bad memories in Texas, but some aren't so bad. He remembered as a child sitting in his dark room, coloring in his cheap coloring book with crayons he stole from his teacher, lit up under the little kitty lamp he had. Momma wouldn't let him turn the lights on after ten, so he always stayed up with that little lamp and colored until his fingers were numb. That was when he knew he wanted to be an artist. Right there, in that darkly colored room as a small child.
The dark gave him peace, and as soon as he moved into his dorm, the first thing he did was paint the whole room a soothing, deep red. He just liked it. It inspired him to draw, paint, anything he could get in the palm of his hand. In fact, after hanging up a few of those old coloring book drawings, he created one of his favorite paintings. That he hung up, too.
But, I feel we are getting off topic. Let's go back to the beginning, before we got into Mitch's life story.
Mitch: he's skittish, and when the dorm a couple doors down boomed loudly with a loud bass and beat, Mitch practically leaped into the air, his heart pounding uncomfortably against his rib cage, skipping a beat for a few seconds. His lungs forgot how to function for a moment, his whole body cowering with a nervous pit in his tummy. He jumped up from his place where he was nestled on his small office chair, immediately ditching the project he was working on at his small oak desk, searching the apartment frantically for his small, grey bundle of calm. Consider Wyatt another coping mechanism; the cat always seems to calm him. During storms, during the fireworks at Fourth of July, and through these loud parties that happened much too often.
He soon found him huddled under his bed, staring at him through the dark with glowing yellow eyes. Wyatt blinked at Mitch. He sighed in relief seeing the cat, and patted his knees and called for him, luring him out of his small cave and into his arms. Mitch took him up with open arms, gathering the small animal in his grasp and holding him close to his thumping chest.
Wyatt was a smart cat, he knew when Mitch got startled. So, he nuzzled his wet nose into Mitch's bare neck, purring and kneading against him and showing him all the love he could. Mitch could feel himself beginning to breathe more evenly as he sat on his bed with the cat in his arms, burrowed into the thick blankets. He kept his room as cold as possible, and these blankets keep him warm. He didn't really know why he did it, but it felt nice to have the cool air hit his face every time he walked through the door. Another comfort thing.
As soon as he calmed down, and realized he was in no real danger, he sighed and dropped his head against the wall in frustration, a loud 'thud' resonating through the cold room. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to focus now, not with the booming music and the loud cheering and banter from the room a few doors down. He hated parties. Always had, always will.
He was so close to finishing, too. His painting was almost done, and he needed it done by Tuesday, and it was Sunday. His teacher wouldn't be too happy if he didn't finish because of the frat party going on at, what was it now? One o'clock?
He knew he should go over there and tell them to turn down the music, maybe be a little quieter for the rest of the building, but he soon remembered that usually everyone in the building attended those parties, and they probably wouldn't turn down the fun for the one introverted kid actually trying to finish his work, unlike the rest of them who procrastinate and usually get bad grades. Why would they, anyway? It's not like Mitch makes himself known. He stays away from people as much as he can. Would they even recognize him?
Still stroking the hairless head, he thinks. It wouldn't hurt to try, would it? The worst that could happen was they say no... Or they are super drunk, or they're partying too hard to even realize he's knocking on the door, or they try to drag him in, or the try to....
Mitch took a deep breath and calmed down. He had to try, and he knew that. He needed to finish this assignment, needed to make his teacher proud. He had powered through too many of these loud events, and this was his last straw. He needed to at least ask them nicely, and hope they understood. He built himself up, something he often did when he needed a boost to do something. He repeated over and over in his brain, that it would be okay, and finally he was ready. He stood on shaky legs, Wyatt mewling unhappily as he was shoved gently off Mitch's lap and onto the cool hardwood floor.
Mitch calmed the buzzing in his brain, the painfully annoying thoughts, before realizing his torso was bare. He liked to feel the cold air on his body, and if he could he would always be shirtless, but now he knew he needed to put something on. He picked up a sweatshirt from the floor, sniffed it a bit just to make sure before he slipped it over his head, letting it fall around his shoulders and eat him up in its large size. Mitch was very small, and he liked to feel even smaller by buying larger sizes. It was comfortable to him. He liked being able to sink into it when he got nervous. He took another deep breathe, and made his way to exit the apartment.
The hallway was even louder, stinging his sensitive ears, and he could see that under each door the lights were out in every dorm except one, dorm 278. He knew this meant that everyone on that level was there, probably partying like a normal person but Mitch never liked parties. They scared him. Too much loud noise. Too many strange faces.
So when he stalked toward the source of all the ruckus, he felt his stomach twisting and flipping in his body, uncomfortable, almost like he swallowed a rock. A big rock. His throat was beginning to grow cottony, dry and scratchy. But he kept on, thinking about the painting currently sitting on his desk and begging to be finished. He was so close.
And soon he was in front of the door, and his eyes drifted down to the small crack at the bottom. He could see bright lights of all color flashing, pulsing with the music. Mitch could already feel his head throbbing at it. It was bright and aggravating, and the door wasn't even open yet.
He tentatively raised his hand, feebly knocking a few times. They seemed to diminish into the loud drum and bass, almost non-existent it was so quiet. He knocked again, louder, praying that someone would hear, but also wishing they wouldn't. He was still unsure about this whole thing.
Someone must have just passed the door and heard the banging, and soon the door was flung open and an intoxicated man stood before Mitch. He was shirtless, a SnapBack covering the blonde mop on his head, a letterman jacket with the schools name printed on the sleeves wrapped snuggly around his waist and a cup in his hand. His eyes were a dazed yet striking blue, and he was having a hard time standing on his two feet, towering over Mitch's shorter body. His eyes were something Mitch hadn't really seen before. Mitch never really got a good look at blue eyes in person. Mitch didn't see very many people, and this was so rare that he stared for a moment before he realized something.
Mitch recognized him. He was in one of his courses. He was that kid, the one that barely payed attention, talked to his friends during the professor's lecture.... Mitch didn't like him. He disrupted valuable learning time that Mitch could have been taking advantage of, but sometimes he got caught up in the quiet conversations he would have with his friends.
They often talked about parties, when the next one would be, going out and seeing friends. Mitch always wished he could be a part of that, but he knew deep down that that life wasn't for him. He was just too.... Sensitive. In fact, this was the first party he'd even come close to and the thought scared him, but what scared him more was trying to speak to the man before him. Mitch didn't really do communication very well. He never learned.
He smirked down at Mitch, blue eyes dazzling with amusement. Maybe he wasn't as drunk as Mitch thought at first. That look in his eyes just seemed so sober to him.
"So, finally showing up, are you?" He asked, and surprisingly his speech wasn't slurred, in fact it seemed as if he hadn't even been drinking at all. He held his liquor well, Mitch concluded.
Mitch took a deep breath, his lungs filling with air but he couldn't speak right away. It got stuck in his throat for a few seconds, his words trapped in a little bubble of air pleading to rise to his mouth. He realized that this was the only time he'd spoken to someone on campus that wasn't a teacher. Shit. Bad choice, Mitch.
Mitch had never been good with his social skills. In school he was picked on for hanging out with the teachers during recess. He just always enjoyed their company better, their level of maturity was something Mitch had adored. The immaturity of the children picking on him didn't sit right with Mitch; he liked sitting with his teachers and watching them drink their coffee as he drank his little bottle of water, and watch them grade the papers. He liked his teachers much more than those bratty kids. He was just never taught how to make friends, and unlike some people, it didn't come naturally for poor Mitch. He barely ever had friends, and when he did his lack of social skills and how 'odd' he was ended up scaring them off before they could ever get close.
"I-uh-I was wondering if... If you could maybe... Turn the music down a little?" His voice was squeaky and unsure, his fingers tapping nervously in the palms of his connected hands. He was very, very nervous. Speaking wasn't his forte in the least.
"Sure, kid. But are you sure you don't wanna join us?" His voice was soft and mellow and it sent chills through Mitch's toes and through his fingertips. Mitch had expected him to have a hazy voice, something much more deep and menacing judging by his size. But no, his voice was something that could almost lull Mitch to sleep. He cleared his throat, trying to hide his surprise.
"No... No thanks but I'm t-trying to get things done s-so if you could-"
"Look, Mitch, it's really fun. Come on, join us. You'll have a great time. Why don't you let loose? I never see you outside of class. You must be so bored," Scott's eyes were glimmering with promise, pleading him quietly. Mitch had to advert his eyes, those eyes were piercing through his entire being. With Scott's smooth and gentle voice, Mitch almost wanted to believe him. The way he spoke so soft, even though the booming music behind him was so loud, made Mitch want to join him..... Almost.
Mitch also wondered how Scott remembered his name. The only time they were ever in the same room was class, and Mitch always sat quietly. He never spoke until he had to. He sat silently working until his fingers were aching and his head was thumping, but he never spoke. And if he did, he waited until after class when it was only him and his professor. But Mitch didn't dwell long, Scott was observing him and waiting for an answer, blue eyes almost luring the words right out of Mitch's mouth before he had a chance to filter them and think properly.
"Don't you ever wonder what a college party is like? Come on, let up. Trust me," Scott held his free hand out toward Mitch, and Mitch reveled in how big it was compared to his. It even looked smoother than Mitch's rough, calloused hands. Mitch was so used to using his hands that they had just become more ragged, picking at his nails and things of that sort, and seeing Scott's smooth skin almost made him want to take his hand, just to feel his undamaged skin against his damaged hand.
Mitch was torn. Of course he'd thought about these parties, who hasn't? He often thought he was too weird, too abnormal to ever be at one. He just wasn't the social type, and that's just what parties are: social events for meeting new people. Not Mitch's thing in the least. The last time he talked to someone, it was his teacher and all he asked was if he could be excused to use the restroom. Even then his voice was merely a whisper. This was so far out of Mitch's comfort zone, but he couldn't help but wonder.
It could be fun. All the parties in the movies he watched on lonely nights looked so fun. Mitch's life was the same thing, day after day and while he loved it, sometimes he yearned for a change. Something to make things a little more different, something to keep his days from all blending together in a mush of bland schedules.
Mitch wanted to just say 'Screw it!' and join in, but the more rational part of his brain knew this was more than that. Was this really the way he wanted to meet people? Drunk, and probably wouldn't remember it tomorrow? Sure he'd had something to drink before, but never in a social setting. Never with people around. But that's what these are for, right? Doing things you usually don't? Mitch wanted to do something different. He was tired of being the odd one out. He was tired of hiding in the shadows and he knew if he didn't take up this opportunity it could slip through his fingers and he'd probably never get one like this again. His whole life was leading up to this.... To him breaking out of his shell. And Mitch was ready. Well, not quiet ready, but he was as ready as he'd ever be again.
So he took Scott's hand.
But, he began regret it as soon as he was pulled in. The lights were overwhelmingly bright, the music rattling his bones and down to his core. He could feel himself beginning to panic, the bodies that danced together inched too close to him and the smell of alcohol and regret was overwhelming. His heart was almost beating with the bass, and the bass was picking up speed. His breathing began to shallow out, each puff of air only simpering into the hot air and it felt like he was choking.
Mitch wondered why he did that. It was such a horrible mistake. He didn't belong there, he never would. What was he thinking? Change isn't always good, Mitch learned quickly.
Scott noticed the small boy wrapping his arms around himself, sinking himself as deep into his hoodie as he could go and backing away from all the people having the time of their life. Scott immediately felt his stomach sink in realization that he had made him do something he didn't want to. He felt bad for dragging him in here, where he obviously wasn't comfortable. It sobered Scott up pretty quick, although he was never really that drunk. He was a compassionate man, and he hated when people were sad or anxious and he felt bad for doing this to the boy who was soon shaking with nerves. He felt his heart tug for the boy, knowing how he must have been feeling.
He reached out to him, pulling his small body away from the larger crowd of people and into the kitchen that was secluded from the rest of the dorm by one steady-standing wall. The kitchen was empty, lit by a small little light from under the oven, empty cups strewn across the one row of counters the small dorm sported. The atmosphere in the small room was much different from the main lounge, even though the music was still very audible and the lights were visible. It was still calmer than the raging ocean of people.
He could see the boys narrow shoulders releasing the tension, watching as the boy took a deep breath and leaned against the counter. Mitch had always caught Scott's attention, something about the shy and quiet boy always intrigued him. He barely ever spoke, so seeing him at the door made Scott feel very surprised and oddly a little validated. And now looking at him, he was so beautiful it was almost insane. The boys head was bald, but it just suited him. It almost looked other-worldly. He had never really had a good look at him, the back of his head always turned to him as he paid close attention to class, but he was able to catch his name. Mitch. Scott knew his work was amazing, he'd seen a few of his paintings when he stood to walk by his desk. He was such a talented person and Scott really fancied driven people, but now seeing him there and in front of him... It was odd, in the best way. He was happy to finally meet the boy, and hopefully befriend him.
"I'm sorry for dragging you in, Mitch. Do you want something to drink?" Scott offered, trying to make it up to Mitch for doing this to him. Scott's tipsy brain didn't realize what he did until it was too late. He just felt bad, because he knew Mitch was introverted, and had probably never been to a party before, much less such a big one like this.
"Um... I-I guess. W-What do you have?" Mitch tried to hide the shyness in his voice, but he didn't do very well.
Scott lead Mitch over to the counter, where an assortment of liquor bottles sat. There was a wide variety, most kids brought there own to contribute to the group, causing an overload of bottles that would probably never get used, flooding the counter over. Some were open, and some were still sealed. Some were almost empty and some were full. Scott watched as Mitch looked at the drinks, messing with a string on the edge of his sweater. Scott could practically hear the gears turning in the small, hairless boys mind. His eyes were dark with thought, his hazelnut irises masked by dark chocolate swirls.
Soon Mitch was reaching a dainty hand out to a bottle of scotch, which had Scott widening his eyes in shock and smirking in amusement. He didn't picture Mitch as a drinker, but he was full of surprises, Scott learned. This boy was special.
Scott took the half-empty bottle from him, pulled off the top and poured some into a red solo cup. Mitch took it in between his fingers, quietly thanking Scott before sipping the drink. He coughed a bit, his nose scrunching up cutely, but other than that he was fine. Scott was rather impressed with Mitch and his ability to down such hard alcohol and barely flinch. Scott wasn't even aware of the smile that had creeped onto his face as he watched Mitch.
They stayed in the kitchen for a few more minutes, and they both had more drinks. Drinks turned into shots, and by the time they had two or three cups and two shots of hard liquor, they were both feeling it big time. Mitch more than Scott, because he was such a light weight.
Mitch was slurring his words, speaking gibberish. He was aware of his surroundings, of his actions, but it was quickly slipping away as he became more and more drunk. He had never felt so alive, buzzing and practically vibrating in his place. His mind was swimming and his vision was getting a bit blurry, almost like slow motion, but it was worth it.
He finally felt like one of them. He felt like a normal person, one that does social things and actually has people to talk to. He felt like he was fitting in, though he'd only spoken to Scott. He felt good, and for once, like he was doing something off from what he'd usually do. At this time he'd usually be watching Netflix or cuddling with Wyatt, but now there he was joining a party. He felt so free. Mitch was beginning to feel the liquid courage. He felt less and less scared of the people around him, which was so unlike him, and began to venture to where the group of people were, Scott following behind. Scott wasn't as drunk as Mitch, yet he was still pretty buzzed, it took a lot to get him actually hammered. Scott was pleasantly surprised when he turned to fill his cup and when he turned back around, saw that Mitch was stumbling out of the kitchen and towards the strobe lights. Scott was happy for Mitch, watching him break away from his shell. He was already beginning to see a side of Mitch he'd never seen before; carefree, almost if not outgoing.
He was aware but buzzing as well, warmth spreading through him though he was shirtless. He followed Mitch and watched as he began to actually dance. Well, it was more like swaying sexily to the beat, but so was every one else so he fit right it. Well, he didn't exactly fit it. He looked much different from everyone, a lot smaller than all the other muscular frat boys. He looked so fragile, but he was doing his best.
Scott downed one more drink, and then things really began to get hazy. He was drunk now. As he began to dance too, there was a fair amount of distance between him and Mitch, but after a few songs Mitch could feel Scott's warmth around him, and he melted into it, carefree and not thinking about the consequences. It felt nice to be surrounded in warmth when he lived his life in the cold.
They danced closely for a while longer before Scott actually touched Mitch, placing a hand on his hip to steady himself, but ended up leaving it there. Scott really didn't think much of it, his brain was intoxicated, but Mitch did. The area Scott touched flushed with a tingling feeling. Mitch looked down to see Scott's hand wrapped around his waist, his hand so large and fingers so long that the tips of his fingers almost touched his belly button. It felt nice... Comforting. Something he'd never do sober, but the alcohol was hazing everything and it no longer mattered. Mitch was beginning to see the appeal of social drinking. It was fun.
Soon both of Scott's hands were on Mitch's waist. Scott ditched his drink just to hold onto the boy, swaying with him, almost feeling the need to protect him. Their bodies were pressed together. Mitch was welcoming the warm embrace, the closeness something so foreign to him, yet so nice.
The last time he'd been held like this, he was a senior in high school. It was a terrible year for him, but when he got his first boyfriend, things looked up.
He was the boy of Mitch's dreams. He didn't judge Mitch for his social problems, didn't shun him because he was shy. He actually liked it, and they hit it off so quickly Mitch was almost surprised. His first friend.
His momma always taught Mitch to stay away from boys, not to trust them, not to get too close.... But he was willing to break the rules for Zach, though in the long-run he regretted it.
They spent their nights on the roof of his house, watching the stars, trying to count them all. Zach promised Mitch one day he'd bring him one of those stars. He said he'd wrap it up for his birthday in a small package with a little blue bow, and bring it to him. Mitch held that promise close, but when the summer came that promise was obliterated. That boy was in his fathers car when it flipped on the free-way. He died instantly.
Maybe that was why Mitch shied away from people. He was never sure, but he thought about that boy for years. He missed him. Though he hid the relationship from his mother, he knew that his Momma really liked the boy.
Sometimes, Mitch watched the stars, just like old times. He closed his eyes often, and dreamed that Zach was still with him, still making those impossible promises. And that was the reason Mitch enjoyed painting the night sky; they remind him of Zach, reminds him of that star he promised.
Mitch never got the star.
But he got the affection of another man, and that was worth everything to him. Zach took his innocence, and he wouldn't have had it any other way. He loved Zach. They were so close, that when Zach left he took a huge chunk of Mitch with him. Mitch was devastated, and it took months for him to even leave his house. That was when he really began to listen to his mother when she told him not to date people. He promised her he would never love again. But when he got the acceptance letter, he got himself together quickly and moved himself out here, and into the middle of Seattle.
That was why Scott's touch was so foreign; he was used to Zach's hands. Zach's hands were rough and calloused like Mitch's, and Scott's were the opposite. But... It wasn't bad. Scott's hands were comforting. Mitch liked it. Mitch let himself melt back into Scott's chest, and soon his arm was wrapped around Mitch's mid-section. Scott's arms were surely bigger than Zach's, they were only seniors and Zach had yet to grow any real muscle before his life was taken. But Scott's arms were big, his biceps almost three times the size of Mitch's. Mitch felt.... Protected wrapped in his arms.
He felt caged in, but it was okay. Usually being confined in any way made Mitch queasy, but this was different. It could have been the alcohol. Surely it was, but he was liking the way Scott held him close to his bare chest.
They danced for a bit longer before they were both getting tired and sweaty. The night was still young for the frats, but Mitch wasn't used to being up this late. He slithered drunkenly out of Scott's inviting arms, stumbling back into the kitchen, the safe place. He immediately missed Scott's heat, but it was okay.
Scott was quick to follow him, feeling somehow attached to the boy. For all those days he spent looking at Mitch in class, he was making up for by staying by his side all night. He was making up for lost time.
Mitch didn't mind, his mind felt like it was sloshing, like his entire body was under water. He felt so out of body, but it was so pleasant in a odd way. He was tingling all over, the lights blinding him behind his eyelids but he didn't mind. The music only fueled him on.
He didn't know what he was doing, but he had clung onto Scott at some point once they had made it safely to the kitchen, holding him close and cherishing how it felt to have actual arms wrapped around him after going to long without any contact. He was used to blankets wrapped around him, not arms. And he liked it. He knew he shouldn't, he knew he'd regret it, but he was living now.
They danced in the kitchen, giggling drunkenly and stumbling around. Mitch was sure he'd never had so much fun in his life. They messed around for a while, playing drunk hide and seek, though in the kitchen they could barely hide and ended up quitting before they even got half way through.
Things were settling down. At least they were, the party outside the wall was still raging on, but Scott and Mitch were calming, sitting in a state of post-drunk, post-energy state. It was mellow and quiet, at least their minds were. The music was still loud and thumping.
Mitch hopped onto the counter, giggling quietly at nothing, but nothing just seemed so funny to him at the time. Scott soon joined, and they were both laughing so hard tears poured from Mitch's eyes. He gasped, only to get his breath caught in his throat and laugh even harder, covering his eyes, his shoulders shaking with joyous laughter.
Scott was startled at first. In his drunk-ish state he thought Mitch's tears were of sadness, not laughter. He grew quiet and concern consumed him. Was Mitch okay?
He stalked to Mitch, sliding in between his legs without realizing what he was doing. It all sort of felt like a dream, his languid motions. He reached up to slowly cup his cheeks, causing Mitch's hands to fall and reveal Mitch's flushed cheeks and happy tears. Mitch quieted, not sure what was going on. Scott's touch felt like fire against his skin, burning yet passionate. He was confused, and maybe getting slightly aroused by the strong eye contact Scott was holding.
Mitch was quiet as Scott worked to rid his cheeks of tears. His thumbs swiped away the wetness. When he was done, he let his hands simply rest on his cheeks rather than pulling away and stepping out from between his legs. He didn't know why, but since Mitch wasn't rejecting it he thought it was fine.
Mitch could've sworn he saw Scott's bright blue eyes darken. They were bright like the sky back in Texas, airy and light and everything fun, but now they looked like a whirlwind of dark blue and navy. They were storms, spinning with desire and in a drunk daze, Mitch leaned forward.
Mitch leaned forward because Scott's eyes were beginning to look so much like Zach's. Full of promise, full of life. Mitch felt like he had Zach back for a few moments as Mitch's lips brushed teasingly against Scott's. Zach loved when Mitch teased him, and so did Scott. And that made Mitch finally press their lips together, his lips soft and supple against Scott's.
Scott was a bit confused, but definitely not complaining. Drunk Mitch was so different from sober Mitch. Much less vulnerable, less apologetic. He was more confident and Scott loved the feeling of Mitch's lips cushioning his own. They felt like little clouds, airy and light. Wispy and delicate as they began to slowly move together, their mouths making soft noises that echoed in their ears despite the loud music only feet away from them.
Despite their drunken state, the kiss was not sloppy at all. It was like every move was coordinated to perfection. Mitch wanted to make this last... This feeling of having Zach back for a few moments. He knew it was silly, comparing Zach to Scott who he barely knew, but this was his way of coping with it, feeling more whole. Mitch knew he'd regret this, but he didn't want to stop. And neither did the alcohol. It let him float along, carefree and not thinking about what regret tomorrow would hold.
Mitch felt a tightness in his stomach for the first time since his night with Zach. His tummy was raging with angry butterflies, and his mind the same. He was so drunk that everything, every feeling was increased tenfold. It felt like his tummy was churning in lava, burning with desire. Every touch sent shivers rippling up his spine.
And Mitch was beginning to get excited. As their tongues met, his world shrunk into just the two of them, drunk minds and surprisingly sober actions that just seemed to feel so right.
Mitch held onto his jaw, feeling it move as Scott kissed him over and over, sending pleased goosebumps up and down Mitch's arms and legs. It was quite possibly more intoxicating than the alcohol in that moment.
Scott's hands slipped under Mitch's hoodie to grip onto his hips tightly, as if he let go Mitch would disappear. As they made out heavily in the kitchen, the party kept going but they couldn't hear the music, the cheers of the men and women. They could only hear each other's heart beats, their own deep breathing and the sweet sounds their mouths made together.
Scott's hands began to drift from his hips, and gently trailed down until his hands entered the back pockets of Mitch's black jeans, pulling him even closer and hearing Mitch's low moan as they met in the middle.
This didn't remind him of Zach like the kiss did. Now it was just... Scott. Him and Scott, and now Zach had left his mind. For the first time since he left Mitch.
Scott was the first to pull away, staring down at Mitch's swollen lips that were parted to take in deep breathes. Mitch's eyes trailed down to Scott's lips as well.
"Want to go to the bedroom?"
And Mitch agreed.
But even in his drunk state, he made a promise to himself that this didn't matter. It was one night, and one night only. This was no strings attached, no feelings afterwards. And even though Mitch wanted a friend of some sort, he promised himself to cut Scott out of his life after this. Mitch didn't want himself to meet a new friend by fucking them. He wanted a real friendship, and he knew if they did this then they could never be normal friends after. And Mitch was okay with that because tonight opened his eyes and made him see that there was a world outside of his dorm, and he was okay meeting new people. He wouldn't need Scott after this. He'd make plenty friends now.
Mitch promised, but not all promises are meant to be kept.
{A/N
Welcome back to the new and improved (hopefully) first chapter! I hope you guys enjoyed this!
This is actually the longest chapter I've ever written and I'm excited to redo this book! Thank you for reading. Feed back would be nice, too.
Did you guys like it?
Love you all!!}