“Tell me you love me.” 

Blue eyes turned up to meet his. Vulnerability graced every feature of a face that was an extraordinary combination of man and child. His body stood tall and broad with maturity, his teeth gnawed at his bottom lip with childish tendency. 

A conundrum. That’s what he was. 

It made him smile. 

“You, my friend, are drunk - and everyone loves you” 

“Whaaaaat!? Psshh… no I’m not! and yeah they do, huh!”  His face fell a bit. "Except my best friends... and you."  

The slur made the inebriated bundle of energy in front of him sloppy and a tiny mist of the other man’s saliva made its way to sit on Mitch's cheek as he spoke. 

Mitch didn’t even bother to wipe it away. He also didn't know how to respond to that. 

“You know that isn't true."

He watched Scott tilt his head as he looked at him. He also watched as his body leaned a bit with it. 

"Skeeter, you are pretty much a weeble right now, only difference is you might actually fall down.” He couldn’t help but laugh as the other pouted dramatically, hand immediately moving to his hip and his eyebrows furrowing. 

“You oooobviously don’t know what you’re….” he tilted slightly too far to the right and had to adjust his feet quickly to avoid falling. He burst into giggles as he caught his balance. “Ok maybe a little.” 

It had been too long since he’d seen Scott let loose this much. There were a lot of things that had been broken over the years he’d known him and it pained him to watch the man weighed down with too many thoughts, a whirlwind of feelings and way too much to keep him distracted. 

Distractions are normally a good thing, but not for Scott. Scott could literally smother himself in distractions. He’d always had an issue with letting his troubles and emotions build and build, buried beneath busy schedules, tours, lyrics and arrangements, until he’d all but melt down into nothingness when he just couldn’t take anymore. 

Those were the times that he’d find Mitch again. No matter where they were in the world, no matter what was going on, he'd always come back to him. 

“C’mon. I think it’s time to take this party back home.”  There were too many eyes, too many ears around. There was always someone looking to take advantage of his friend in one way or another, and he was in no state to be left alone.

“You know you’re a party pooper” He giggled. “I said poop! Pooper!” 

He couldn't help but laugh. This is the Scott he missed. However childish his actions sometimes were,  he was still his best friend. 

And so much more… 

~~

“Boys are dumb!!” Scott called out as they stepped through the doorway of Mitch's apartment.

“Spoken with true eloquence.”

“No matter how I say it, it means the same thing! Boys are still dumb!” 

“Thanks” 

“Not YOU!” 

“Last time I checked I was definitely a boy.” Mitch was quite enjoying this conversation as he hung his keys on the hook by the door. Scott had been full of happy fun random on the long drive home. They sang together along with the radio and laughed, just like old times. 

“Well yes, you very much are, but no. You’re just… you’re Mitch.” 

Mitch wasn't sure he wanted to think any further on that sentence.  “Also last time I checked Mitch isn’t a gender. Although that would explain quite a bit...” 

“Don’t be a douche bag - you know what I mean! You’re just different.” He followed Mitch like a puppy on a leash straight to the guest room. 

"Alright Confucius, can you change by yourself or are you going to break your face if you try?"

Scott was already trying to toe off his boots, but obviously that was not going to work. He ended up falling, thankfully onto the bed, in a fit of giggles. 

Mitch just raised an annoyed eyebrow. "Mommy did not sign up for this." 

Scott was giggling but lifted his foot. "I need help. Laces are hard. I'm hard. I feel like an upside down turtle." 

"TMI, Screech." He walked over and grabbed the boot that hung in the air and put it against his stomach so that he could unlace it. He tried not to look at the blue eyes that were staring him down. 

He removed the first boot and after a moment was able to get Scott to lift the second. It finally joined the first on the floor.

"Can you get your PJs on by yourself?"

Scott just kind of stared at him.

"Alright, alright, up and clothes off." 

Scott smirked and got to his feet, having a bit of difficulty getting his shirt off. Mitch had to help get his arm unstuck and then his head. 

"You...  are a hot mess." Mitch laughed a bit as he watched Scott try to figure out the buttons on his jeans. 

"Why are there two? Who thought that was a good idea!?" Scott mumbled as he tried to figure it out. 

"As amusing as this is, the Queen is tired and would really like to go to bed soon. Move over." He moved forward and pushed Scott's hands out of the way as he went about undoing the buttons on Scott's jeans. 

"Are you trying to seduce me?" 

Mitch forced himself not to look up. He knew if he did it would stir up things that needed to be left alone. But the lower octave, the dip in Scott's voice, the playful lilt that shot straight through his chest and right between his legs, was oh, so tempting. 

"I'd prefer for your boyfriend to not smash my face in, so no." 

He heard the frustrated growl and had just managed to get the second button undone when Scott's hands pushed him away. 

He turned away to give Scott some privacy as he rummaged through his bag for his PJ pants.

He only stayed in the room to make sure his friend didn't have any more issues. He busied himself relocating the large boots and placing them against the wall so Scott wouldn't trip over them if he woke up during the night.

"Does he even know you're here." 

"Fu¢k him. I don't give a shit what he thinks or what he knows." 

Mitch knew he didn't mean it. Scott loved Alex.. at least, he better fu¢king love Alex for all of the shit he put all of them through for him. 

"You can turn around now." Scott said quietly before climbing into bed. 

Mitch turned to look at him. He hated the dark look that Scott now had. He also felt way too vulnerable under the cerulean stare that refused to look away. 

He sat on the edge of the bed next to him, pulling the blankets up and tucking the blonde in. He moved his hand over his own head, shifting the beanie he'd worn that night around a bit. 

"You're different." He was back to their earlier conversation. 

“I’m not different.”  He wished he was, but he wasn’t. He was just as much of an asshole as the next guy. He’d broken a heart or two and he’d had his heart broken on as many occasions. 

Nope, he wasn’t different at all. 

“But you are!!” Scott sat up again. The bundle of drunken energy didn’t react to the sigh Mitch let loose, instead he only seemed to get more and more animated in an attempt to get his point across. 

“You’re not a gender. You’re like…. Genderless!!!!"

“That’s nice. The compliments just keep on coming.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. 

“Or…  just ..you’re above all of it. You know what I mean!?!” Scott's smile faded as he gazed at Mitch, suddenly becoming serious. “You… you’re not like all of the other countless assholes out there. You're not like him.” 

Mitch shook his head shifting a bit on his spot on the bed. “You call me an asshole all the time.” 

“Yea, but I never really mean it." his voice softened into a near whisper. The jest left his voice again. 

Mitch pushed at his shoulders, partially to lighten the mood and partially in an attempt to get him to finally lay down and go to sleep. “I know you don’t.” 

Scott went to say something but it was muffled by a yawn and Mitch didn’t understand a word of it. It brought a chuckle from deep within his chest.

“Whatever you say, Scortland.” He pulled the covers over the other man yet again, hoping this time would be the last. His own eyes were beginning to droop. 

But Scott was watching his every move again. Something sat unsettled behind his eyes. Mitch knew there was something else he wanted to say, something that he needed to say, but Mitch couldn’t imagine being much help with advice as tired as he was. All he wanted to do was turn off the lights and say goodnight.

But he knew he couldn’t. This was Scott, and when Scott needed him … well…

“Tell me…” 

Nothing came in response for a moment. Then, after a few seconds of hesitation, stormy blue locked onto him and he instantly knew he wouldn't like where this conversation was going to go. 

“I want to take it back.” 

He wished he didn’t know what Scott was talking about, but he did. They’d been through this too many times to not know. Every time Scott brought it up it broke his heart all over again.

“We’ve talked about this.” 

“I know, but-” 

“Scott-“ He had to silence the other with a finger over his lips. He couldn’t help but let the moment linger – the quiet hanging there between them. The finger removed itself slowly, leaving two men staring at each other with so many things that needed to be said that never would be. 

At least… tonight they wouldn't. 

“Please. I want a chance to fix it. I wanna take it back! I didn’t even mean it!” 

“You did mean it, and it was the right thing to do.” Mitch had replayed that night over and over in his mind about 100,000 times. So much had changed after that, and he always wondered if he or any of their friends would ever be the same. 

“No.“ The blonde got quiet and shook his head. He looked away from Mitch as he turned on his side, his back facing the other man so he couldn't see his defeated face or the tears that started to build. “You always say it was, but it wasn’t. I was wrong and you know it.” 

Mitch wanted to rebut but he couldn’t think of anything that would make Scott feel any better about the situation, nor could he find words to prove his own statement, so he just decided to let it end there. He stood, squeezing Scott's shoulder for a moment before going and shutting off the lights. 

He didn’t see the wince Scott reacted with when he touched him. He didn’t see the tears that followed the darkness. 

“Night, Wembley."

He didn’t hear the tiny pieces of Scott's heart break… joining the other tiny fragments he’d already ruined. 

He didn’t hear the whispered, “I’m sorry” as he closed the door behind him. 

As tired as he was, it took ages of staring at the ceiling and more than a couple of tears for Mitch to actually fall asleep.