It's a shorty, but.. here.

———-

For Mitch, it all happened too fast. For Scott as well, but he would never admit to that. It seemed like one day they were just friends, then the next, they were lovers, no in between.

Mitch remembered watching scary movies with him, only because Scott loved them so much. He would hide his face in the crook of Scott's neck, curling into his body, when the scenes got too scary, or the blood and gore got to be too much. His hands would spread across his waist, he would grip onto Mitch just a little tighter, holding...protecting...him. Mitch's lips would be so close to his neck, he couldn't help but kiss along his jawline. It would drive Scott crazy and he would groan in pleasure. He loved having that kind of control over him.

Scott would often ask how someone as cute as Mitch, could end up with a guy like him. Mitch would just laugh it off, because to him, he always wondered how he got someone as perfect as him.

At the time, it didn't make sense that they were together, but they just kind of let it happen. They let it happen without thinking of the consequences that could come if things didn't work out. They let it happen without thinking, and that was the problem. Now though, it seemed like that was the driving force of keeping the two of them on the edge. Mitch wasn't good for Scott, Scott wasn't good for Mitch.

Mitch remembered how nervous they were when Scott first kissed him. Shaky breaths, fidgety fingers, uneven heartbeats. He thought everything was going to go wrong, but the second Scott's lips met his...it was a different story. His fingers instinctively intertwined with blonde hair, and all he could think about was how much he had wanted to kiss him. How he could kiss him forever and it would never be enough. At the time, it was all impulse. Every touch, every kiss felt innate. Now though, it seemed as if it was all wrong. Everything about it all was just wrong. It wasn't right for him, and it wasn't right for Scott.

Mitch remembered the drunken nights of slurred speech and unbalanced feet. Scott usually had to help him walk. Arms wound around his waist, lips on the back of his neck more often than not. He was the only one who could understand Scott's incoherent speech, translating for everyone he managed to bump into. When the two of them would finally somehow reach home, the slamming door was nothing compared to the aggressive movement they would make to get close to each other. Scott would pin him against the wall, kissing him feverishly, while he would struggle to get the fabric between them off. It was a mess and at the time, it was those nights that made him realize how much fun it was to be with him...how passionate the two of them were. Now though, it seemed as if it was obnoxious. It was everything he didn't want and everything Scott didn't care for.

But before Mitch could blink, it was all over. All of the movie nights, all the nervous touches, all the drunken kisses. It was all over before it really began and that killed Scott. It pained Scott to watch his tear stained cheeks turn red from crying so much and it pained Scott to watch him press his fingers into his temple, trying to contain the headache before it spread through his whole body like a disease. And it pained Mitch to watch him get on his knees, begging him for another chance. He didn't understand what went wrong, but then again, neither did Mitch. It was as if their little paradise was ripped out from right underneath of them and neither of the two were prepared for it, falling flat on their faces. It just...dissolved. They both knew it. Whatever had brought them together in the first place was gone, and they didn't know how to get that back, whatever it was. He in all honestly hated that he gave in to it, without a fleeting thought, until it was too late. Too late to fix their relationship, way too late to fix their friendship. Under the surface, even though it was hard to see, he knew it had to end, he just hated to be the one to end it.

But Scott just wanted him to stay for one more night. Maybe even more than one more night. He just needed to hold Mitch. He didn't want Mitch to leave, and all he could choke out was, "Please."

And it pained Mitch the most, to say, "No."