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Summary
Auston frowned a little and glanced down at where Mitch was still holding him. He felt… hot. All over. Hot and… scratchy. Was that the right word? No. Tight? Like his skin was stretched all over him. Like something important was going to happen that would either be really good or really bad, but he wasn’t sure which one it was going to be.
“Mitchy--” he started as he took a half a step back. That was about all the room Mitch would give him.
“I’ve been trying-- for weeks-- months-- maybe even longer--” Mitch muttered, without looking at Auston. “You’re just so fucking stupid--”
“I have to go to the restroom,” Auston blurted out.
Mitch stared at him like he’d grown a second or third head. “What?”
“Yeah, I mean. I probably have diarrhea or something. I might be in there a while.” Auston continued, eyes wide and wild. “You don’t have to stay.”