Chapter Text
“You better hurry and come back soon, Mitchy,” Scott pleaded, voice muffled through the low quality of the phone speaker. New and better technology, his ass. Mitch cradled the phone to his ear, against his shoulder as he fumbled with his bags, cursing lightly under his breath. “I miss you..” he teased.
“Yeah, I miss you too, cutie,” Mitch teased. He shifted the grocery bags to one hand, trying not to drop his phone, while he reached in the leather bag slung around his other arm for his car keys. Being on the Sing Off competition, Pentatonix had been staying in a hotel together with a lot of the other contestants, and due to the limited number of rooms and the multitude of people, (and a relatively low budget), Scott and Mitch had been forced to room together.
But Mitch wasn’t complaining. There had been a brief, and relatively dark, period of his life where Mitch had lost Scott’s light as the older boy had gone off to college. There had been short and inconsistent iChat messages, but other than that, they hadn’t communicated much. That was until Scott had called Mitch one fateful night in a hurry, urging and begging the dark haired boy to reunite the Trio and audition for an acapella singing competition show called ‘The Sing Off.’
And now that they were in the throw of it all, Mitch had found something to be passionate about, had performed in front of thousands of people, reignited his friendship with Kirstin, made new friends with Avi and Kevin joining the trio, and had spent long nights holding deep conversations with Scott, and testing the boundaries, the limits, of their newly ignited relationship. He felt his face grow red with embarrassment at the memory of Scott’s strong arms around him as they fell asleep in the double bed, legs intertwined. Everything was thrilling and new and beautiful.
So now, here Mitch was, returning his groceries to the car, groceries that Scott had sent him to fetch since the blond hadn’t been feeling too well this week. Still fumbling with his keys, he almost didn’t notice the group of men walking up to his car, loud and boisterous and reeking of alcohol. He could feel his heart rate quicken, blood rushing as the group of men (there were about four of them) cross the sidewalk, wander through the parking lot, and stop by Mitch’s car. Why were they here? Mitch could feel his mouth go dry, fear striking his heart.
“Hey,” one of the men said, a tall brunet.
“Scotty, I gotta go,” Mitch said hastily. He barely heard Scott’s little ‘okay hun’, before he hung up on him. If they wanted trouble, Mitch would have to be ready to give them whatever they wanted or call the police.
One of the men, a blond, leaned against Mitch’s car. He felt surrounded now, and his heartbeat began to race even faster. Oh God, don’t make me have a panic attack right now. “You’re Mitch, right? From Pentatonix?” The brunet said.
He nodded hastily, his mouth becoming dry. It was dark outside and he hadn’t been able to get a good look at their faces yet, but now that he allowed his eyes to meet theirs, he recognized them and he felt his body still with relief. The four men were fellow Sing Off contestants, belonging to one of the many large and all male college age acapella groups in the competition. Mitch hadn’t talked to them much but they had seemed friendly enough when he first met them. But this didn’t mean he would let his guard down.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m Mitch,” he replied quietly, head raising to meet their eyes. When they didn’t reply, and instead just looked at each other exchanging quick glances and laughing, Mitch replied more deadpanned and angry, “Do you all need anything?”
One of the men (boys? They couldn’t be much older than twenty, and Mitch was only eighteen himself) chuckled more heartily and leaned down to face Mitch better. The smaller man braced himself. It wasn’t that he was scared that they were going to hurt him, it was just that they were all so tall and masculine, and Mitch felt small and vulnerable and extremely uncomfortable, especially since they all seemed drunk as hell.
“Yeah, we just wanted to say we like your little band y’all put together,” one of them said.
“It’s really cute, what you do,” another replied. “Especially since you guys think you have a chance at beating all of the big groups out.”
Mitch could feel his teeth grind. “Well, I didn’t ask for your input on our band, but thank you anyway,” he replied bitterly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my hotel. My friend is waiting for me.”
The brunet who had first spoken grabbed his wrist as he turned around to leave, and Mitch felt himself jolt with surprise at the strength of the taller man. A sharp pain shot through his arm. “Nah, nah, wait a minute, man. We just wanna make a few things clear with you, wanna ask you some things.”
Mitch set his jaw, his eyes blazing, glaring at the man as he attempted to pull away. “What do you want?” he practically spat out.
One of the men whooped as if Mitch’s anger was something to laugh about. These men didn’t know him at all, but from what they had possibly observed Mitch was definitely one of the more reserved members of the group, so his fiery attitude was probably a shock to them.
“Okay, let’s get this straight-” the brunet (clearly the leader of their little posse), leaned in close to Mitch, too close. He heard the murmur of the blond, ‘well he’s certainly not’, and the laughing of the other men and suddenly he felt like he was back in high school again. He remembered the bullying, the shoving, the teasing, the nasty rumors, the days he would come home with a bloody nose or black eye. His heart hammered in his chest, his thoughts consisting of ‘run’ and ‘I need Scott.’
The brunet nodded. “Yeah, so what are you gonna do when your little group goes home? It’s cute and all to watch you guys try and compete with the rest of us, but it’s bound to happen eventually.”
Mitch could feel the tightness in his chest increase, his heart dropping into his stomach. Pentatonix had done relatively well so far, but with every performance came the crushing pressure of knowing that if Mitch messed up he, and possibly the rest of his friends, would be stuck in Arlington, Texas (possibly forever) and would never achieve their dreams, which inhibited him from performing as full-out as he wanted to. And if Pentatonix didn’t end up winning…
“I-I’m not sure,” Mitch said shyly. His voice sounded small and scared, and he was again reminded of how weak he felt back in high school. “I haven’t really thought about what happens after this…”
One of the men, wearing a baseball cap, faked a sympathetic pout. “Aw,” he mocked. “Well isn’t that just adorable? So naive. But seriously, you should reconsider all your options.”
The blond nodded. “I’m not gonna lie, y’all are talented. But everyone is talented in this industry, and your voice isn’t all that special. The blond has got an incredible voice, I’ll give him that, and the bass and beatboxer are amazing. The girl’s a bit weak, but she’s hot, so she’ll be okay. But what about you?”
Mitch felt his heart stop for a second, mouth going dry. What would he do if all of his friends became successful and he didn’t? He didn’t believe he really had any other talents besides singing, and it really was the only thing he took pride in at the moment. But what if his singing wasn’t as good as he thought, and as good as everyone made it out to be?
The men took it as their cue to leave when Mitch continued to stand in silence, shocked and horrified, the groceries nearly slipping out of his arms, which had gone slack. His body was frozen with fear and he could hear his heartbeat pick up pace, his breath becoming audible. He was shaking, and he wanted to scream and cry and shout and put those men- no, boys- in their place because they were wrong, they were so wrong, what the hell did they know?
But what if they were right? Hissed the evil voice in Mitch’s head.
He managed to get everything put away in the car, sitting in the driver’s seat with shaking hands, the only sound interrupting the silence his ragged breaths. Tears threatened to fall, and he let them, warm and watery on his cheeks. He would cry now, and save Scott from the onslaught of his tears when he returned to their room.
***
Thankfully, Mitch managed to get back to the hotel without passing out from exhaustion or swerving off the road with anxiety. It was rather late though, and the hallways were eerily quiet as he walked towards room 404. When he arrived he shuffled his belongings to get his key, knocking softly before entering so that a sleeping Scott wouldn't be too alarmed. He could feel his breath rattling in his chest, still shaking with all of the pent up emotion and anger threatening to erupt out of him. He choked back his sobs as he entered the room, closing it softly behind him.
“Mitch?” came Scott’s groggy voice, muffled with exhaustion and a stuffy nose.
“Hey, Scotty,” Mitch whispered, his voice wavering. “I got you the NyQuill you wanted. And some Ben & Jerry’s.”
“Half Baked?” Scott asked.
Mitch nodded and set the bags on the desk, sitting beside Scott on the bed. The blond looked up at Mitch through blue eyes bleary with sleep. “Mmm,” he murmured. Mitch felt his heart pang, realizing Scott hadn’t let himself sleep until he knew Mitch had got back safely. “What kept you away so long?” he reached over lazily to grab Mitch’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly.
“I-” Mitch began, but Scott interrupted him, his voice alert and worried.
“Mitch you’re shaking…” Scott observed as he held Mitch’s hand in his own. “Oh my god, are you okay?”
All of the emotions, the anxiety, the fear, the rage, boiled inside his stomach, and he wanted to throw up. He couldn’t let Scott know about what had happened, but not telling anyone about his fears would leave him sick to his stomach with worry. His only option then was telling the blond how he felt, or at least asking him what he thought about the previous conversation in the parking lot.
“Scott, what are we going to do if we don’t win? What if we go home next week?” Mitch’s voice was small and timid and shaky, barely able to get the words out as he continued, “am I even a good enough singer to make a career on my own?”
A moment of silence passed by dreadfully as Mitch blinked back tears furiously, a hand over his mouth to stifle his soft sobs. Scott immediately shot up, his exhaustion from the lack of sleep and his cold suddenly gone. He grabbed Mitch’s shoulders suddenly but gently, his eyes wide with an emotion Mitch couldn’t quite place his finger on.
“Mitch what the hell are you talking about?” Scott’s voice was raspy and pained when he spoke and it made Mitch’s heart skip a beat. “You’re...you’re incredible, I, I don’t have words to describe how beautiful, how absolutely gorgeous and ethereal your voice is…”
Mitch shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks. Scott’s grip on his shoulders became tighter, both of their emotions climaxing. “No...stop telling that, just to make me feel better,” he replied, voice shaking with uncontrollable sobs. “You know you don’t have to lie to me, I’m not stupid Scott, I know I don’t have much going for me, I get hardly any solos, they know, everyone knows, I can’t...I can’t do this Scott!”
“Who knows what, Mitch?!” Scott practically yelled back, voice hoarse. “What the hell’s gotten into you to make you think this? Are you even hearing yourself right now? How could you-”
“Scott! Listen to me! What are we gonna do if we go home, huh? We can’t last as a band, not if we don’t win. Kevin and Avi will go back to their old jobs and you and Kirstie will probably become big stars or something...but what...w-what…” Mitch sobbed out. “I can’t...I can’t go back to Arlington. Not like this.”
“Mitch, you’re not going back to Arlington,” Scott attempted to reassure him. “Not without me, I’m never leaving you. That’s a given,” Scott continued, giving his shoulders a firm squeeze. “And we’re not gonna go home. We’ve done so well, and everyone is so proud of us. Can’t you see that we can do this? Can’t you see how proud everyone is of us? How proud I am of you?”
Mitch wanted to stop crying but the more he thought about stopping the more emotion seemed to seep from him, pent up anger and exhaustion and fear overwhelming him and overflowing from him. He could feel himself shaking, his sobs racking his body. Scott realized this too, moving his gentle and strong arms from the brunet’s shoulders to instead wrap around his shaking body. The blond’s embrace was so warm and comforting, Mitch could feel his sobs slowly die down as Scott began rubbing a gentle hand across his back. Without thought, Mitch buried his head into Scott’s shoulder, his tears soaking the soft fabric of the taller man’s shirt.
“Mitchy…” Scott whispered, craning his head to kiss the smaller man’s forehead. “Not a second goes by that I’m not completely in awe of you. You know I love you, you’re incredible. You’re,” Scott paused to shake his head with a soft smile. “You’re amazing. From the moment I first saw you performing when we were little kids in community theater, I knew you were a star. You shone so brightly and ever since that moment I’ve been so enamored with you. Every time I hear your voice, I can’t help but stare, you captivate me and you inspire me, and god you’re my everything. And I-” Scott’s voice began to break with emotion, “it hurts when you doubt yourself so much, Mitch. It hurts me that you don’t believe in yourself the way I believe in you.”
Mitch’s cries had stopped a while ago, his silence directed at Scott, intensely focused on the blond’s words. His heart was skipping beats, his face flushing. There was no way Scott, who was such a bright and positive presence in his life, whose smile lit up the whole room, whose voice and charisma demanded the attention of everyone, could see Mitch as his inspiration. And yet every word Scott managed to croak out was entirely true, Mitch could hear the passion and the raw emotion in his voice.
“I just don’t want to fail...Scotty,” Mitch whimpered. “I’m just terrified to fail. I can’t afford that.”
“Neither can I,” Scott replied. “But we won’t. I’m sure of it.”
“How do you know?” Mitch asked, voice soft.
Scott smiled and held Mitch a little tighter, allowing a warm and extremely comforting feeling to encapsulate Mitch’s body. “Because we have you in our group.”
Mitch felt his heart thump a little faster. Tears welled in his eyes again, but this time from happiness. Never before had he ever felt so loved, so safe, so protected, than when he was with Scott. He prayed silently that this man would never let him go, that they'd always be able to talk together like this, and to hold one another this close.
“And you know,” Scott continued, voice gentle and soothing. Mitch closed his eyes, listening to it like it was a melody. “You didn’t have to come. You could’ve gone to college. But you joined us, and oh my god, I am so thankful, so blessed, we all are, to have you here with us. I can’t imagine this group, Pentatonix, without you Mitch.”
Mitch let his chest rise and fall slowly in response, letting out a ‘hmm’ of understanding. “I love you,” he whispered, nuzzling his face closer into Scott’s neck. In response the blond leaned back into the pillows, so that Mitch was laying with his head on the blond’s chest. Scott began to run his fingers lazily through the brunet’s hair and Mitch could feel sleep suddenly grasping at his mind like a hungry animal.
He almost didn’t hear Scott whisper back “I love you so much,” as he drifted into a gentle and comfortable sleep, the words of the men from earlier that night almost forgotten.
If Scott Hoying believed in him, and was sure he was gonna turn out okay, Mitch knew everything would turn out just fine for him. For all of them.