Chapter Text
In the silence, Mitch gives a small chuckle. “Y’know what’s funny?”
Sammie doesn’t look away from the sunset, answering without hesitation. “What?”
Mitch takes a second to get his thoughts together, looking over at Sammie. “I’m, like, the strong one, right?” When Sammie’s unreadable expression turns skeptical, he rephrases. “I mean, like, muscular.”
Sammie looks like he has a comment to make, but holds it back, so Mitch continues. “I’m the, what… physically strong one, but you’re the actually strong one.”
Sammie’s eyebrows raise in surprise, forgetting all about the sunset for a moment as he turns to look at Mitch. “What do you mean?”
Mitch is frowning a little in thought. “I’m all muscular, but you actually… yeah, whatever.” He pulls the knee closest to Sammie to his chest, suddenly defensive.
Sammie gives an almost indiscernible nod, concern leaking onto his face along with the orange sky. He fidgets with the hem of his skirt, turning his eyes back to the sunset, though his thoughts are still on Mitch.
Mitch’s red ears are barely hidden by the golden haze as his face contorts into a defensive rage. He wishes he could be more open about this. It’s whatever. He’ll do better tomorrow or something.
“I can hear you angry-breathing,” Sammie says quietly, breaking the silence. Mitch worries about him, sometimes. Sammie can be so… unemotional? It’s concerning.
Mitch gives a half-assed scoff. “Yeah. And?” He’s never been good at banter. Especially not while anger bubbles in his stomach. He doesn’t know why this happens so much. He just wants one nice evening where he doesn’t blow up with rage.
Sammie shakes his head a little, which Mitch notices despite the anger clouding his vision. “I wish you would talk to me more.”
Mitch can feel the anger clawing at his heart. He talks to Sammie plenty, doesn’t he? What’s this evening hangout supposed to be? They’re talking plenty. Mitch, trying not to blow up, doesn’t answer. Sammie doesn’t bother to repeat himself or elaborate.
They sit there like that, on the hood of Kiara’s car that Sammie drove because Mitch was too stubborn to. In the middle of a field they probably aren’t allowed to bring cars into, staring at the fleeting, now pink-ish purple-ish sunset behind a distant wall of houses and trees. Sammie gives a small, inadvertent sigh. Mitch jumps a little. His rage is bubbling away, quickly as it came.
“Sammie?”
“...Yeah?”
“...'M sorry.”
He doesn’t ask what Mitch is sorry for. It doesn’t really matter.
“It’s okay.” After another moment of awkward silence, Sammie shakes his head and lets out a harsh laugh. “Our conversations are so weird.”
Mitch lets his knee fall from his body, legs spread on the hood again as Sammie sits criss-cross. He smiles. The sunset is almost gone now. “It’s been a long fucking day.”