Chapter Text
I. Beginnings.
Scott looks terrible and it's not just the lighting. His skin has a greyish cast to it and his normally sharp blue eyes are dulled by pain. Every time he lifts the microphone to his lips his hand trembles a little bit more, and the way he leans against the stool behind him wasn't part of the rehearsal script. He keeps missing notes or coming in late, and his voice sounds unusually weak. Mitch is so used to seeing him fight through his illnesses so this is all really different, and if he's being perfectly honest, more than a little scary.
He can tell the others are on the same page as he is from the quick glances they keep stealing his way. But they have two more songs to get through before the intermission so there's an unspoken agreement to press on and. . . and then what? They'll cross that bridge when they get to it, but Mitch can't imagine Scott going back out there in his condition.
At least these two songs, “Say Something” and “Run to You” are both more subdued and led by Kirstie and Avi. Scott's voice sounds more strained with each passing second and Mitch doubts he could handle anything more than background vocals right. He's struggling.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mitch watches closely as Scott lowers the microphone to breathe deeply, but even that seems more difficult than it should be. He bends down to retrieve his water bottle only to have it slip through his fingers the moment he straightens up again. That's when it clicks.
Something is really wrong.
But it's too late. Before the thought finishes processing in Mitch's mind, Scott goes down. It happens so fast that anyone who blinked would have missed it. He sways once and then he just collapses as if he's a puppet whose strings have suddenly been cut. He falls hard and fast, making no attempt to catch himself, and his head hits the stage floor with a sickening thud.
They all stop singing instantly, and in the split second of silence before the crowd reacts, Mitch is almost certain he can hear a piece of him shatter. The cries of concern drown his voice out as he calls out his friend’s name and stumbles on shaky legs to go to his side.
“Scott!”
He's not moving. He's so unnaturally still that Mitch's brain, desperate to protect him from the reality, wonders if it's really him. Scott's never this still, not even when he's sleeping.
“Scott. Hey, can you hear me?” Kevin reaches Scott at the same time as Mitch, dropping to his knees and placing his hand on Scott's shoulder. “Scott?”
“Scott?” Dimly, Mitch can hear the concerned murmur throughout the arena, and someone backstage must have turned on all the lights because everything is suddenly brighter. But except for the voices of his friends crowding around him, everything else seemed faint and muffled, like he's lost in a tunnel, and he can only see Scott who still isn't moving.
“Scotty,” Kevin repeats, a picture of perfect calm. The only thing that betrays him is a slight tremor in his hand as he reaches down to pat Scott lightly on the cheek. “Hey, man. Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?”
“What’s wrong, what happened?” Kirstie demands wildly as she and Avi join them. “Did he trip? Did he-”
“He just passed out,” Mitch says hollowly. He can’t his eyes off of Scott’s face. He’s so, so pale. He didn’t know someone could be so pale without being dead.
Oh god.
“Is he-” He chokes on the rest of the question, fear threatening to swallow him whole. A team of medics swarms them and he finds himself being pushed out of the way, further away from Scott. Panic swells up inside of him and he can’t breathe.
“Mitch,” Kevin is holding onto him, arms strong and sure. “He’s breathing. He’s breathing.”
“What’s wrong with him then?” Mitch fires back, shaking so hard that he’s confident Kevin is the only reason he’s still in one piece. “Why wouldn’t he wake up?”
He passed out. People pass out all the time, don’t they? But why? When it’s really hot. They’re inside though, so why else? When they’re incredibly tired. That is far more likely. They’ve all been exhausted and sick because it’s part of the program. A necessary evil. Show business. And the show must go on, right? So why isn’t he waking up? As far as Mitch can tell, he’s still unconscious.
“Mitch, I promise you that I saw he was breathing,” Kevin tells him quietly. He’s directly in front of him now, blocking the medics and Scott from his view, but somehow he doesn’t panic further. “But now I’m worried about you. Now it’s your turn to breathe, okay?”
Breathe. So easy to say, yet nearly impossible to do. His vision is starting to get fuzzy at the edges and his chest is hurting like it does when he has a panic attack. He can’t have a panic attack right n ow. Scott needs him.
Pull it together, Mitch. His inner voice isn’t bold and confident like it usually is. It’s small and stupid and scared and he hates it. He hates the tears that are crowding in the backs of his eyes, blurring his vision even more. He hates the muffled sounds of everything around him. Hates the tightening in his chest that’s only getting worse.
He looks over Kevin’s shoulder to see that Scott still hasn’t moved, though now the medics are shifting him onto a gurney. Avi is saying something about the hospital, which honestly sounds like a foreign word to him right now because what? Scott can’t be going to the hospital. Scott is the only one who really knows how to help Mitch through his panic attacks. He can’t-
This isn’t about you, Mitch.
No. No it’s not. It’s about Scott. But they’re so connected that everyone who knows them jokes about how difficult it is to tell where one ends and the other begins. Joined at the hip. Inseparable. Scott once said he couldn’t go thirty seconds without Mitch and though it was meant as a joke, it was closer to the truth.
It’s been way longer than thirty seconds.
“Mitch, please.” Kirstie’s voice is tearful and it jerks Mitch back away from the edge of completely losing his sanity. “We need you. They’re taking Scott in now. They- they’re leaving and we need to follow the ambulance. Please. Scott. . . he needs you too, Mitch.”
Mitch nods, feeling very much like a bobblehead doll. “Okay,” he breathes at last. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Kevin repeats, eyeing him closely.
No. It’s not okay. The only way it could possibly be okay would be if Scott was right next to them right now and they were singing and the crowd was singing along with them instead of being asked to leave amidst a flurry of activity both on and off the stage. But Scott. . .
Scott isn’t here. Mitch shoots to his feet so fast that his head spins. “Scott,” he gasps. “Where-”
Avi is staring backstage, unblinking and so still that Mitch isn’t so sure he’s aware of them until he speaks. “They took him,” he says quietly. There’s something in his tone though, something that holds them back for a heartbeat before they try to follow. They stare at him, waiting. It comes to fast and seems like an eternity all at once. “I heard one of them say something about his heart.”