It started out as a beautiful morning. Mitch had gotten a good nights sleep, and he woke up with a smile on his face, ready to tackle the day. It was sunny, and looked so pretty outside.

He should've known it would turn out to be one of the worst days of his life.

Lauren called him first, with a catch in her voice asking for him to come to Scott's. He dropped everything and immediately went. He walked into the apartment without knocking, like he always did, and found Lauren crying on the couch. As soon as she noticed him she tried to hold back the tears, tried talking to him.

Mitch understood most of what she was saying, while his thoughts traced back to this morning. It was cruel irony now, one that would have him laughing if his heart wasn't breaking in two. He barely kept himself upright, his chest tightening and his eyes burning.

"Where is he?"

With a trembling hand, Lauren pointed to his room. Mitch took a deep breath, forcing his emotions down. It wouldn't be fair to Scott, not when this was happening to him.

"He wants to be alone." Lauren said, furiously wiping her eyes.

Mitch just shook his head, steeling himself for what he was about to do.

"No, he doesn't." He replied, walking back to the bedroom.

When he opened the door, he saw Scott sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. Mitch ignored his gruff plea to be alone, shutting the door behind him. He looked the same, but different. His ever-present charm was gone, replaced with helplessness that made Mitch want to scream at the unfairness of it all.

Instead, he walked up to Scott, hovering at his side. He was so unsure of what to do. He placed a hand on his shoulder, and was surprised by the jerk of his body. It took Mitch a few moments to realize Scott was shaking. Sure, Mitch had seen Scott cry plenty of times, he was the more sensitive one, but as intensely as this? Only two other times did this happen, and Mitch could recall it all. Once when his mom died, the other when Scott slipped the engagement ring on his hand, where it sat now.

"Scott." He sighed, not knowing what else to say.

This time, he heard the sobbing, and couldn't help but let the tears fall from his eyes too, unable to control it any longer. He climbed on the bed, sitting behind Scott, wrapping his arms around his waist, pressing himself into his back, holding on for dear life. Scott covered one of Mitch's hands with his own, and they sat there for what felt like hours, crying. His tears soaked the back of his shirt, while he felt Scott's fall on his arms.

Mitch didn't know how long they stayed like that before he moved. Gently breaking his grip, Scott turned to face him, his eyes red and cheeks wet. Mitch was sure he looked the same. They stared at each other for a few moments before his raised his hands, running his fingers through Mitch's hair, then wiping the tears. He was staring so intently, like he was trying to memorize his face. He leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.

"It's the same cancer my mom had." He said in a rough voice. "Stage 4. They don't know where it's spread yet, but it's in my bloodstream."

Mitch shook his head, his entire body shaking as he clung to his arms. "No." He whimpered, refusing to believe it.

Scott sighed, kissing his forehead, the moving to his cheeks to kiss the tears away, but it didn't work. He couldn't stop crying. Mitch threw his arms around him, pressing his face into his neck. Scott just sat there, holding him tightly, knowing they had a limited amount of time to hold each other this close.

"I won't let you die." He said stubbornly.

Scott huffed out a laugh, rubbing his hand up and down the smaller mans back. "That's the kind of God-complex that gets people in trouble."

Mitch resisted the urge to hit him, pulling back and giving him a distressed look. "I don't know what to do." He said helplessly.

Scott sighed, wiping away the tears with more success this time. "First, we're going to get married. Today. Now. I don't care if you're in a backwards cap with basketball shorts or a suit. I want you to be my husband."

Mitch took a deep breath, nodding his head. "Then what?" He asked.

Scott intertwined their fingers, bringing his hand up to his lips for a kiss. "I don't know." He admitted, fear creeping into his voice that he had been trying so desperately to keep down. "I don't know how much time I have, or if by some miracle I get to live a long time. What I do know is that there are probably a bunch of family and friends outside because I'm sure my sister called them all. We need to tell them to go get dressed for a wedding."

Mitch let out a teary laugh, running his hands through his dark hair. "I'm gonna need you to do something first though." He stated matter of factly.

"What's that?"

He sighed, looking into his blue eyes, that looked even more blue next to the red surrounding them. "I need you to say something so Scott-like that I'm torn between kissing you and slapping you." Mitch smiled.

Scott laughed, and Mitch could see that smirk of his and he knew he was in for it. "You better take some time off work, because there's a good chance I won't let you leave our bed for a long time once you become a Hoying."

Mitch shook his head, unable to resist kissing him deeply and swatting his arms at the same time. Scott let out a muffled protest against his lips, then pulled away with a smirk.

"Grassi-Hoying." Mitch corrected him. "Mitch Hoying sounds ridiculous. And what makes you think I'd let you keep me prisoner in our bed?"

"Because you love me." Scott shrugged, confident in his words.

Mitch sighed, taking him in and memorizing who he was, ego and all. "I do." Mitch responded, voice laced with sadness as he gripped Scott's face. "Very, very much."

Scott's face softened, smiling down at him, all jokes aside. "And I love you." He murmured, kissing him softly before standing up and reaching out a hand.

Mitch reached up, allowing him to be pulled up. As they walked out to the crowd, hand in hand, Mitch took a deep breath, anchoring himself to Scott's side, where he would stay until his dying breath.