This is so freakin cliché. I know, I know, I'm a terrible person for taking so long to update. I'm really trying to do better, but I'm having a lot of trouble finding motivation to write. I'm reading so many amazing stories with beautifully written chapters, and I just feel like I could never be that good. Like I'm not good enough to be writing, I guess? I know that's a crappy excuse, and a horrible mindset to be in, but I've never exactly been good at being nice to myself.
The scalding hot water beats onto my back, relieving some of my tense muscles and making me sigh. I stare down at the steam billowing around my feet and think about Scott. I wonder if he's grounded. Or hurt. If his mom is still punishing him. What if she did disown him?
She couldn't. But I bet she would. Would she?
I really don't understand what could be running through her head when she walked in on us. I don't understand how the first emotion I saw was hatred. How could she hate something that felt so... right? She has no idea how amazing I was feeling at that moment. I felt wanted. Important. But in a whole other way than I usually feel it. Scott payed attention to my feelings, always making sure I was as comfortable as possibe. He was hesitant and caring. No one has ever made me feel that way. And she was repulsed by us.
I also don't understand why I'm so upset over this. It feels like my long lasting relationship just ended, not a random make-out session. I should just be scared for Scott. But my pain is deeper and I can't place where it's triggered from. Her reaction? Being shoved into a wall? Scott's sadness? The hatred in her eyes? I just can't grasp it.
We haven't know each other for that long anyways. But after thinking about it... yes we have. Since I moved here, a little more than eight years ago. That's about as long as my parents have been married.
I breath in the steam for a bit, then I grab my little blue razor and my raspberry scented shaving cream. I start absent mindedly shaving my stomach, doing the math in my head. If I was just turning eight when my parents got engaged, and we moved when I was ten- I feel a sharp, yet faint, pain and look down.
A tiny nick at the top of my hip bone shines an angry red. I watch as around it pools dark crimson, and just as it forms a small bead, it gets clipped by a drop of water and slides down my leg. Deluded by water, the light pinkish trail makes it all the way down to my ankle, then branches out in the lines of my skin. The lines are precise, pretty, almost, but it brings tears to my eyes at my acceptance to the pain.
I grab my shampoo and slowly massage it into my roots. More thoughts about Scott and his mother, more stabbing aches of grief piercing my entire chest, and then it hits me. My sadness morphs into anger as I think about the bitch, what I would just love to say to her. Horrible scenarios of what could happen if I say these things rush through my thoughts, but I blink back the tears and the images. I'm really going to do this.
~~~
Every organ in my body drops as he and his luminous blue eyes trudge through the large doors of the choir room, his adorably huge feet hardly leaving the ground with each step. Hot, unexpected tears well up in my eyes at the large, purple bruise under his eye. It looks awful, barely starting to heal after a day or two. The edges are just now starting to fade to green and yellow, giving a sickly tint to the otherwise even and pale skin of his face. In addition to the bruise, dark circles sit below his eyes. He looks as though he hasn't slept a wink since we last saw each other.
I jolt from my plastic seat and speedwalk over to him, trying as hard as I can to go as unnoticed as possible. His eyes lock on mine from the opposite side of the room and he picks up his pace towards me, his gaze never leaving mine. The tear in my left eye falls when our chests collide, both of us hugging as much of the other that we could. I discretely wipe away the tear that threatens to fall, snaking my arm over the back of his neck. I can almost smell his devastation mixed with his Old Spice cologne, the emotion simply radiating off of him in waves.
We sway back and forth as I fight back the tears that are far too quickly building. I can feel my pupils' eyes on my back but I really couldn't care less. I purse my lips and barely arch my back to look at him in the eyes. The icy blueness generates a feeling like I'm being pulled into a lake of frozen emotions. It's like all the myriad shades of blue swirl together to form a whirlpool of apprehension. We silently agree not to let us be awkward after what happened. We don't need words. Yes, he is undoubtedly still scared, and so am I. But we both know what's coming.
"You're going to do something... I can tell." His voice is raspy and soft, worn after days of yelling and crying.
"I am," My eyes are unfocused in the direction of the wall over his shoulder. I'm nervous, but this has to happen.
"What?" I look back up at him and curl the corners of my lips up slightly.
"Are you doing anything after school today?"
~~~
As it turns out, Scott has to babysit his little cousin. He, being the sweetest person to ever live, invited me to help, even with the consequences that could undoubtedly occur. As he opens the front door to his house for me, a soft burst of warm air engulfs us, filling my nose with the familiar scent. Little tiny footsteps are off in the distance, and I crane my neck over Scott's shoulder to look for the source.
I little boy with blue jeans and itty bitty red sneakers shuffles over to us.
"Scotty!!" He squeals, jumping into Scott's arms. Scott lifts him effortlessly and throws him into the air, then swiftly catching the boy. This causes him to giggle hysterically. I put my hand over my grin as I watch Scott wrap his arms around the small body tightly, pressing his face into the little white t-shirt.
"Hey, Lando!" The joy in his voice makes my heart swell. The boy, who I'm guessing is named 'Landon', turns his flushed, round face to me.
"Scotty, who is that?" He asks innocently.
"That's my friend Mitchy. He's gonna stay here for a bit and play!"
"Um, Scotty?" Landon leans in to Scott and puts his hand over his mouth, as if he's going to tell Scott a secret. He whispers, not so quietly, "Is that a boy, or a girl?"
I bust out laughing and Scott's face turns bright red. He puts his free hand over his eyes in embarrassment.
"He's a boy, Landon..." he mumbles. I only laugh harder.
"Oh. Okay." Landon is completely shameless as he pushes out of Scott's hold, landing his feet on the hard wood flooring. He runs off somewhere, staring at me the whole while.
"I am so sorry." He says, barely above a whisper. I look up at him, with his hands over his face to hide his blushing cheeks.
"Girl, it's not the first time." I chuckle, still highly amused. He groans loudly in humiliation.
"Okay fine. Let's go find Landon before he destroys the house..."
We find him on the ground in front of the fridge, eating a cup of cream cheese with his fingers. How could a child, so small and innocent, get into trouble so quickly? It was literally no more than 30 seconds!
"Landon!" Scott scolds, as I silently giggle. He shoots me a look when I snort, annoyed that I find his struggles so hilarious. I cover my mouth with my hand, trying desperately to stop laughing so hard, but I have to turn away before I start crying.
"Hi!" Landon squeaks, waving with a cheese covered hand. This only makes me laugh harder. Until he gets up... and touches my shirt.
"Oh my God!" I grab the hem of my shirt and gasp. A whole entire dot is on my new black Acne sweater. I saved up for this shirt for weeks, and now it's ruined!!
Scott chuckles and places his large hands on Landon's shoulders. "Come on, Lando, let's wash your hands. What did I say about eating out of the fridge without permission?"
Landon looks down at his little feet and shakes his blonde head. "I'm sowwy uncle Scotty...", his tiny sweet voice loosens my anger a little bit, but I look back down at my shirt and it returns.
"I mean look at the mess you've made." Scott scolds, but softer now. "Alright buddy, let's go."
I roll my eyes to the ceiling and sigh loudly. I could scream right now.
"Mitch... it's literally a microscopic dot." Scott's voice says from the hallway.
"You don't understand." I groan.
"No I don't, I don't own any five thousand dollar shirts."
"But it's from Acne..." I whine.
"I have no idea what that is supposed to mean."
~~~
"How do you do it?" I question, my gaze on Landon's sleeping form amongst the grey bedsheets of the guest room's bed.
"Do what?" Scott's voice is filled with love for the two year old boy, I mean I wouldn't blame him, the kid is adorable. But he's a handful.
"You have so much patience. And tolerance for... mess and... gross things." I cringe, trying not to look at the washed-out stain on my sweater.
"I'm used to it. And I think it takes a certain type of person to deal with kids." He put a single finger to his lips as we tiptoe out the door.
"I could never do it." I decide as he quietly slips the door shut. "I feel like one more hour I would have exploded, and that even with your help."
"No, trust me, I do feel like I'm gonna explode," he explains, "but I just hold it in better. And I don't have a total resting bitch face the entire time."
I gasp. Do I really? "I don't mean to..."
"I know Mitchy, I was just teasing." He puts his arm around my shoulders as our bare feet pad down the stairs. I tense, but I take a deep breath and remember it's just Scott. We turn a corner and he speaks again "So, do you want to watch a movie or something? It's not late yet, so if you want to text your d-"
We freeze at the loud crunching of keys in a door that sounds from ahead and watch as its opens. Connie is standing there, the soft afternoon light accentuating her features as they turn angry.
"What... did I say... about staying away from him?!" Her face turns red as she huffs in between her words. Her fingers are curled like talons. The flush on her cheeks is the burner underneath me, heating up my water, setting it off to a boil.
Scott's arm doesn't move from around me. I can sense his fear, but he doesn't back down. I stare at the mess of a woman.
"Mom, there is nothing wrong with me being with him-"
"I told you there is, and my word is final! What about me?! Your mother?!? You weigh your own selfish desires over your mother?" Steam billows over my edges, the bubbles threatening to spill over at her words.
"N-no! M-mom-"
"He already rubbed his abnormalities off on you, obviously! But you would go and rub your disgusting perversions onto my young, sweet nephew?!" At these words, my water is flying and practically pouring over my edges, burning my skin and blistering my heart.
Oh, hell no.
~~~
Thoughts?