Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey, queen. I’m going out for a bit. Want anything while I’m out?” Mitch asks, strutting into Scott’s room.

Scott looks up from where he’s lurking on twitter, liking fan’s comments and sending them into a frenzy, and has to do a double take when his eyes land on the goddess that has graced him with his presence. Mitch looks positively gorgeous, like sex, and Scott wants to ravish him immediately. He shifts slightly on his bed, feeling all the blood in his body rush down, down, down until he’s lightheaded and trying hard (ha) to look like he’s not ten seconds away from jumping his friend.

“You’re going out like that?” Scott quips, trying to sound normal, but his voice cracks half way through. He can feel the heat rising up his neck and hopes that Mitch doesn’t notice that either.

To be honest, his outfit isn’t that much different than normal. Black jeans, fancy shirt, high-heeled boots, but ever since Scott realised that he loves Mitch more than is strictly acceptable for best friends, he’s been seeing him in a completely different way.

From the way Mitch’s hair falls across his forehead and Scott’s fingers itch to brush it back, to take his face in his hands. From the way his jeans cling to his legs and Scott wants nothing more than to feel the skin underneath, to see if it’s as soft as it looks. From the way he pouts his lips at the camera when he takes a selfie and Scott wants to taste, wants to take his bottom lip between his teeth and bite.

He shifts again at the thought and wishes Mitch would just leave already so Scott can take a cold shower.

Mitch looks down at his outfit in confusion. “Yeah, why?”

Scott clears his throat. “No, no reason. You look great, babe.” He tries for a genuine smile, but even he can feel like it doesn’t look right on his face.

Mitch arches a perfectly formed eyebrow. “Okay, weirdo. Don’t wait up.” He blows a kiss to Scott and leaves. Scott waits for the front door to close behind him before taking a deep breath and flopping backwards. He scrubs his hand across his face and groans.

He really needs to get a grip.

--

“So, what have you got planned for Mitch’s birthday?”

Scott’s been on the phone to his mom for five minutes and already the conversation has come round to Mitch. As per usual, he supposes. Scott’s mom loves Mitch, and ever since he confessed his feelings to her, she’s been pushing him to be honest and tell Mitch how he feels.

Easier said than done though.

Mitch is currently on a date, a third date, and the last thing Scott wants to do is mess up a good thing for his friend. Mitch deserves happiness, and if Tom – or was it Tim? Bobby? Shane? – makes him happy, Scott is not going to get in the way of that. It doesn't matter how much he wants to let the green-eyed monster loose, he’s not stupid.

“I don’t know, Mom. Hadn’t really thought about it, I guess. He’ll probably want to spend it with friends. I’ve barely seen him the last few days.” Scott tries to stop the tears welling, tries to stop the lump in the back of his throat from forming, but he misses his friend.

Ever since they filmed the La La Land melody, things have been different. Mitch has spent more time out of the house. More time away from him and damn, if it doesn’t hurt. He has friends other than Scott and a life that Scott isn’t part of. If Mitch is happy, Scott can at least pretend to be happy, and he’s going to get that tattooed on his forehead until it sinks in.

“Oh, baby. I’m sure he’d rather spend it with you though.”

Scott scoffs at that. Yeah, like that’ll ever happen. Between Luke, Austin and his billions of other friends, Scott’s lucky if he sees Mitch before he goes to bed. His texts and snaps go unanswered, his calls go to voicemail. He’s ready to give up. Scott’s not about to demand attention when it’s quite obvious Mitch doesn’t need him.

“Why don’t you do something nice for him? Order him his favourite food, light a few candles…”

“Mom! Mom,” Scott cuts in, “Stop trying to force us together. I love him, yes, but he doesn’t feel the same way. Can I remind you he’s on a date right now? With someone who isn’t me?”

“Technicality. That boy loves you. I’m sure of it.”

“Well, I’m glad someone is.” Scott loves his mom’s optimistic view of things, but you’d think after fifteen years of friendship, Mitch would know by now if he’s in love with Scott. It’s neither here nor there if Scott only worked out his own feelings a few months ago. Details.

His mom starts to talk, but Scott tunes her out when he hears the front door open and giggling voices float up the stairs. Shit, he’s brought Harry – Richard? Connor? – back. This cannot be happening.

“Mom, I’ve gotta go,” he cuts in as she’s talking about something she saw on the news the other day. “I forgot I’d promised Nicole I’d pop round.”

“Oh, okay, Scott. Give her my love. Speak to you soon. Love you.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

He hangs up the phone and edges towards his open bedroom door. The voices get closer and closer. Scott pops his head around the door and freezes when he sees Mitch is pushed back against the wall, his date attacking his neck. Mitch’s eyes are closed and the look of pure ecstasy on his face makes Scott blush. It conjures up images of Scott being in that position, body flush against his friend’s, hands roaming. He goes to step back into his room, but Mitch opens his eyes and they go impossibly wide when he realises they have an audience.

“Shit, Scotty. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were home.” He pushes his date off him and attempts to straighten out his clothes. “We’ll go somewhere else.”

“No, stop. Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming back here. It’s okay. I’ll go to Nicole’s. I said I wanted to meet Noel anyway.” He goes back into his room, cursing himself for being seen. Grabbing the first jacket he lays his hand on and slipping into a pair of trainers, he gathers up Wyatt who was dozing on his bed and his phone and steps back into the corridor.

Mitch and, dammit, Scott really needs to pay more attention when Mitch mentions his date’s name, are standing next to each other, looking sheepish, and if Scott is correct, Mitch also looks a little sad.

“I’ll just see you tomorrow, I guess,” Scott queries. Mitch nods enthusiastically.

“Yes. Yes. Me, you, day together. We haven’t seen each other properly for a while. I miss you, hunty.”

Scott bites his tongue to stop himself from screaming “I’ve been right here, waiting” and nods his agreement. “Right. Tomorrow. Have fun.”

Once he’s outside and sat in the driver’s seat of his car, Wyatt sleeping on the seat next to him, not a care in the world, Scott bangs his head against the steering wheel a few times. He looks up at the house and sees Mitch’s bedroom light turn on. Shadows pass in front of the window and Scott closes his eyes. Tries not to imagine exactly what is going on right now.

With shaking hands, he turns the car on and backs out the driveway, intent on putting as much space as possible between him and Mitch.

--

It’s the evening of Mitch’s birthday and Scott is nervous. He’s finally taken his mother’s advice and has planned a meal for him and his best friend tonight, intending to tell him once and for all exactly how he feels. Now, if he could just stop feeling like he’s going to pass out, that would be great. He’s changed his shirt twice in the last hour because he keeps sweating through them and he really doesn’t want to have to do that again.

Scott checks his phone for the umpteenth time. He’d text Mitch at noon to tell him not to make any plans and to be home for seven, but hasn’t had a reply. He hopes it’s just because he’s having a good time with Nicole and Kirstie and not because he’s blowing him off. Again. The disaster that was wine night the week before is still smarting, and Scott doesn’t think he can take being pushed aside anymore.

Channelling his inner-Beyoncé and belting out Flawless, Scott takes the plates out the oven that he’s been warming and puts them on the side. Reaching into the cupboard, he pulls out a couple of wine glasses and takes the bottle out of the fridge, taking both to the dining table and setting them in their places, tweaking them slightly until they’re exactly right.

He riffs and taps his feet as he takes out containers from the bag of food that was delivered, dancing on the spot as he spoons out heaps of gluten-free noodles and vegetables (ugh - the sacrifices he makes to ensure Mitch’s happiness) onto both plates. Grabbing the matches off the side and slipping them into his back pocket, Scott picks up the plates and takes them to the table. He checks the time on his watch and sees that it’s a couple of minutes to seven.

“Okay, Scotty. Time to face the music.”

He lights the candles in the middle of the table, and then dances his way over to the light switch, switching it off and turning back to survey his work.

Hmm. Not bad. Could be better, but Scott is rarely a romantic. He had to beg his mom to not laugh at him when he asked how to go about doing this and the embarrassment he feels is still strong enough that he cringes whenever he thinks about that phone call.

Walking down the stairs to the front door, he sits on the bottom step and waits.

Chapter Text

Scott can remember the exact moment he realised that his feelings for Mitch were leaning more towards the ‘I want to rip off all your clothes and make sweet, nasty love to you’ rather than ‘I want to drink wine and sing Beyoncé songs with you’. It felt like it had been brewing for a while in all honesty. Years, if Scott really wanted to pick a timeframe for it. Burying his feelings so far down that even he couldn’t find them.

He had been scrolling through the ‘Scömìche’ Tumblr tag for hours, boredom kicking in as he waited for his turn to shoot on their latest music video.

Normally he left the Tumblr browsing to Mitch, content to laugh at the things Mitch showed him, but never wanting to delve very far down the rabbit hole. He tried that years before and it scared him – fangirls are crazy. But Scott had been bored and lonely; Mitch busy shooting his part and the rest of the band nowhere to be found, so he tucked himself up in the corner of the empty warehouse they were using.

He’d gotten tired of Twitter and Instagram quite quickly, and Snapchat was only fun for so long when you were on your own, so Tumblr it was.

Flicking through the tag, bypassing post upon post of capslock screaming under gifs (yes, queen, Mitch is perfect) and photo-shopped images (damn, people are scarily creative) that made him blush, a video caught his eye. There was no title or photo of what it could be, just a link. Curiosity took over and before he knew it, YouTube was opening and whatthehell?

Titled ‘Heart-eyes Hoying’, someone had painstakingly taken the time to trawl through hours upon hours of Pentatonix videos and Superfruit videos and had included photos and quotes from other people about his and Mitch’s friendship, making it sound and look like Scott had been in love with Mitch for years. Sweat prickled under his shirt and across his forehead. He felt a blush creep up his neck onto his face. His heart beat uncomfortably faster against his ribcage.

Once the video had finished, he frantically pressed replay with shaking fingers, and watched again. He could remember some of the clips, but honestly, he couldn’t remember the look he had on his face at the time, so he doesn’t know what this ‘heart-eyes’ thing is they are referring to. Just remembers feeling happy and light, surrounded by some of the people he loved most on the planet. And then the moments he doesn’t remember flashed across the screen and huh.

Restarting it again, Scott put himself in the shoes of an outsider, someone who doesn’t know the ins and outs of their friendship, someone who isn’t privy to his innermost thoughts. His eyes bugged out of his head when it dawned on him.

Shit, it really, really did look like he was in love with Mitch.

Scott started laughing hysterically, the idea completely foreign to him. Surely he would know if he was in love with his best friend. After all, Scott was in a relationship. A very happy, stable relationship with a gorgeous, blonde-haired hunk who was his world and who he loved very much. Who he could very much see in his future until they were old and grey and grandparents to little, blonde grandchildren who they doted on.

There were more videos underneath; ‘Scömìche Moments #1’ and ‘The best of Scömìche’, and before Scott knew it, he had pressed play and watched them all. The same clips appeared over and over again. Panic welled in his chest and he needed air. Lots of air. Pushing up onto shaky legs, Scott fled the room, ignoring people shouting at him that it was his turn next and not to go too far.

Slamming through the fire exit into the parking lot at the back of the building, Scott leant against the wall beside it, eyes closed, taking great, gulping breaths that did nothing to stop the images flicking across the blackness of his eyelids.

Imagined grabbing Mitch and kissing those perfect, pink lips, pressing him against the wall and kissing down to his neck, biting and sucking and marking him as his own. Imagined stripping Mitch out of his designer ripped black t-shirt that begs to be ripped further, flinging it across the room and touching the smooth skin that has been revealed. Imagined lifting him so Mitch’s legs were wrapped around his waist and thrusting against him, taking him against the wall, hard and unrestrained, swallowing his groans with kisses, Mitch’s nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure overwhelmed him.

Scott groaned and scrubbed at his face, smudging his makeup. Nicole was going to be so mad, but Scott couldn’t bring himself to care right then. Not when he could feel how hard he was at the thought of sex with Mitch, pleasure humming under his skin, fingertips tingling at the need to grab onto Mitch the next time he saw him.

The door he came through opened and Scott had jumped to arrange himself into something resembling sane, though he knew he looked anything but.

And like the world had conspired against him, Mitch had popped his head around the door frame, completely oblivious to Scott’s breakdown, and smiled at him. All white teeth and squinty eyes like he hadn’t seen him for days rather than an hour.

“Hey handsome. Your turn,” Mitch had said, eyes flicking up and down Scott’s body, eyes twinkling like he liked what he saw, like he wanted to eat Scott, taste and bite and devour. Maybe Scott had been projecting. He couldn’t tell.

“Okay. Thanks.” His voice broke at the end and Mitch frowned.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Scott rushed to say, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that his world had turned upside-down and he wasn’t sure how to act around his best friend anymore. Wasn’t quite sure what was appropriate and what wasn’t.

They had always been tactile, from the very first day they met each other. Hugging whenever they were within reach of each other. Kissing cheeks and foreheads and shoulders. Never shying away from showing how much they meant to each other. Cuddling on the sofa after a long day. Undressing in front of each other with ease because they’d done it so many times before. Scott always thought Mitch was beautiful; was even more beautiful when he was half-dressed and walking around with confidence in his step and his head held high. But had never thought it was because he was in love with him!

Mitch stepped towards him, hands reaching out, and Scott edged away. Hurt flashed across Mitch’s face and that would not do. Even if Scott’s world had changed, he wasn’t about to hurt his best friend in the process, couldn’t let Mitch know what he’d realised only thirty minutes earlier.

He reached out and pulled Mitch into his arms, tucking Mitch under his chin and squeezing tight. Trying to absorb some of Mitch’s sanity because there was no way Scott would be able to hide it forever. They had known each other far too long for something that big to stay a secret. Scott could only hope that he wouldn’t hurt too many people if it ever happened.

“Hey, hey.” Mitch pulled away as far as Scott would let him. “What’s wrong, daddy? And don’t lie to me.” Scott remembers shaking his head, hoping that Mitch would understand that he wasn’t ready to talk about, not then, not ever. The absolute last thing Scott wanted to do was ruin the best friendship he’d ever had.

Just as Scott was about to open his mouth and say he’d tell Mitch later, putting off what would inevitably be either an awkward conversation or him trying to come up with lie after lie to throw Mitch off-track, a tech had popped her head around the door and asked if Scott was ready.

“Yeah, sure, Sam. Thanks,” Scott said, detaching himself from Mitch and reaching to adjust his hair. He turned to Mitch and asked, “You coming?”

Mitch smiled, bright and open. “Of course, queen.”

--

They never did get to talk that night.

As soon as the shoot was finished, they all piled into cars and drove to the nearest bar, intent on celebrating and dancing the night away, to which Scott was grateful. Within ten minutes of being in the bar, Mitch had caught the attention of short, brunette man, who Scott decided straightaway was never going to be good enough for him, but was really glad that he was out of Mitch’s scrutinising gaze.

And if he was a little bit jealous the whole night at the sight of his friend dancing and laughing with this new person, only Scott would ever know.

Chapter Text

Scott stabs at the noodles that are now a rubbery mess on the plate in front of him. He glares at the candles that have long since burnt themselves out. The playlist he put on that was supposed to last for the time it took to eat their meal has started repeating for a third time, and Scott is done with this disaster of an evening.

He checks his phone to make sure a message hasn’t magically appeared in the last five minutes, but no, nothing. Not one single word from Mitch as to what the hell is going on or where he is.

He should be surprised that he’s been stood up, but he really isn’t. They’ve been drifting apart for so long that nothing Mitch does any more surprises him. Wine night was cancelled because Mitch forgot and was hanging out with Luke. The trip to the cinema was postponed because Mitch had promised to help Kirstie look at wedding stuff. The previous week’s Superfruit didn’t happen because Mitch was hungover and slept it off at Austin’s. If it had happened once, Scott could’ve quite easily forgiven him. He, himself, has forgotten things in the past, but Scott always made sure he called, or at least, sent a text, and he always tried to make up for it.

The thought that he’s losing his best friend grips like a vice around his heart, squeezing tight, so tight that the pain of it makes tears well in his eyes and his breathing hitch in his chest, but Scott doesn’t want to cry. He’s not going to cry over his best friend anymore. He doesn’t deserve anything. If Mitch doesn’t want to be his friend anymore, Scott isn’t going to force him. He just hopes he’s happy.

Standing from his seat, Scott scoops up both plates and calmly walks into the kitchen. He stops at the threshold and sees the takeout containers, spies the corkscrew on the side, the cake he’d bought especially for that evening, birthday candles stuck in haphazardly.

One moment Scott’s fine. The next he completely loses it. He throws the plates so they crash against the fridge, watches as noodles fly out in every direction, plates cracking down the middle. It doesn’t help. He walks back to the table and grabs a wine glass, smashing it to the floor with all his strength. The glass shatters into millions of little pieces, the same thing his heart does in his chest.

A sob catches in his throat, choking him. Another claws its way out of his chest, and before he knows it, he’s leaning over the table, sobbing harder than he’s ever cried before. Tears drop onto the surface of the table beneath him and he’s powerless to stop them.

He collapses to his knees, the pain lost against the unadulterated wave of sadness and pure loneliness that hits him in the back, taking all of his breath away in one go, and suddenly he's choking, drowning in tears, and the one thing that could save him isn't here.

--

It’s been a week since Scott attempted to woo Mitch with a birthday dinner and have it fail spectacularly. A week in which he’s thrown himself into writing and arranging the new Pentatonix album, sometimes with Kevin, sometimes Avi, spending longer than even Ben in the studio, playing the piano and drowning himself in music. He’s barely been home, only stopping long enough to shower and change clothes, preferring to sleep on the sofa at the studio, trying to limit the amount of interaction he has with his best friend.

It’s been hard to stay away, Scott’s body automatically wanting to seek out Mitch when he needs comfort, even though Mitch is the source of all his current problems. His mind can’t seem to differentiate between Mitch, his best friend, and Mitch, the person who is breaking his heart without even realising it. He keeps reaching for his phone to send a snap or a text, and he has to keep stopping himself. He just needs a break. He needs to do everything he can to keep it together, just until he comes up with a solution.

When the band had stopped by the studio a few days after Mitch’s birthday to record a couple of tracks, Mitch had skipped to his side, dropping onto the sofa next to him and resting his head on Scott’s shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, hunty. Where have you been hiding?” Mitch said, looking up at Scott with sad eyes.

It’d taken everything Scott had to not break down and tell him everything, tell him how much he loves him, how much he’s been hurting lately, how he wishes that Mitch felt the same, but he had been saved by Ben asking for Mitch to get into the booth to record his parts.

Watching his best friend get lost in the music, Scott’s mind had drifted back to that night.

After he’d picked up his bruised and broken body and dried his face, Scott had cleaned up the house, sweeping up broken glass and cold noodles. He’d dumped it all in the trash, hid the candles and deleted his playlist, removing every trace of his pitiful attempt at making Mitch happy. He picked up his gifts to Mitch – a bomber jacket he’d seen on the Balenciaga website that he knew Mitch really wanted, a pair of black ankle boots to replace the pair he’d worn out from wearing so much, and a Cartier love necklace to go with his bracelet that he was only going to give him if their dinner went well.  

On his way down the hall to his room, he put two out of the three gifts on the end of Mitch’s bed for him to find when he eventually remembered he lived with Scott, taking the necklace with him into his room. Moving aside clothes in the bottom of his closet, Scott pulled out a small, discrete wooden box. He opened the lid and felt tears well up when he saw all the memories he’d collected over the years.

There was old photos of him, Mitch and Kirstie from high school, ticket stubs from cinema trips and concerts, and a small pressed flower that Mitch had slipped into his locker after Scott had told Mitch he was gay. There was the letter ten-year old Mitch had written to him asking if Scott wanted to go to the park with him the weekend after they first met. There was something from every year of Scott’s life with Mitch and it was too much.

Scott placed the necklace gently inside the box and pushed it back into his closet, as far back as he could put it, covering it with an old blanket and stacking more boxes on top.

And there’s where it would stay. He could return it, could use the money for something else, but the thought of taking it back made him feel like he was giving up, and even though it felt like his world was crumbling beneath his feet, Scott was still holding onto some hope that one day Mitch would feel the same way.

“Scotty?”

Scott shakes himself out of his head, surprised to find himself sat on the sofa in the studio, blanket tucked around his shoulders. He distinctly remembers being at the piano but he’s been losing blocks of time all week, so far inside his own head that he’s fairly certain he can’t remember what day it is anymore.

He looks up at the doorway to see Kirstie standing at the threshold. Her face is pinched with worry, arms crossed over her chest. She looks small and unsure as she takes a hesitant step into the room.

“Hey, love,” Scott greets quietly, voice croaky from not being used for a while.

“Are you okay?”

She walks over to stand in front of him, looking down at him. The concern on her face deepens as her eyes look him over, takes in his rumpled, stained shirt, the purple bags under his dull, cloudy eyes.

He shouldn’t tell her; doesn’t want to drag sweet, innocent Kirstie into a fight between her two best friends, a fight one party is completely unaware they are having. She doesn’t need the stress of his problems on top of planning her wedding and recording this new album. Scott doesn’t want to burden her, make her feel as though she needs to pick sides when as far as Mitch is concerned, they are still on the same team.

When he doesn’t answer, Kirstie sits down on the edge of the sofa, turning her body towards him. One of her soft hands takes one of his and holds tight; warm and comforting and gentle. She brushes his knuckles with her thumb, sending a shiver down his spine from the simple gesture. He watches as it sweeps back and forth, refusing to raise his head to look at her, to see the pity he knows she’s feeling for him.

“Is it Mitch?” she softly asks him.

He nods.

“Did he hurt you?”

He nods again, lump forming in his throat, threatening to choke him.

“Can I hug you?”

Scott finally looks up at her, startled at her question. She’s never once asked, always just pushing her way into his arms. And then he sees the tears falling down her cheeks. She’s nervously biting her lip as she waits for his response. God, the last thing he wants to do is bring someone else down to his level. He feels like he’s cried an ocean the last few months. He doesn’t want it to spread to his friends.

Opening up his arms, he huffs as Kirstie falls into his embrace, chuckling weakly. She sniffles against his chest and buries her face in his shoulder, and Scott wants to cry again from the familiarity of holding someone smaller in this position, even though it's not really who he wishes it was.

They cling to each other like a lifeline, letting their tears fall freely.

Chapter Text

“Scott, you can’t sleep here again tonight,” Kirstie says matter-of-factly the following evening as everyone packs up to go home after another long day in the studio. They’re off to the side away from the others, picking up empty wrappers and Starbucks cups. Kevin and Avi are talking about the arrangement of another track they want to try out over by the soundboard and Mitch is sitting on the sofa, tapping away at his phone, giggling at something. Scott remembers when he used to be the cause of those giggles. His heart thumps painfully in his chest.

Kirstie coughs softly to grab his attention again. Scott sighs heavily at her, moving his glasses down his nose so he can rub at his tired eyes. He knows she means well and he’s grateful that she been making sure he’s been alright throughout the day after he cried himself to sleep in her arms the previous night. After a day of concerned glances and soft touches whenever she’s been close enough to reach, though, Scott wants to be alone. He also wants a shower, some clean clothes and his own bed for a change.

“That’s okay, Kirstie. I think I’m going to go home tonight.”

He sees her glance across the room at Mitch before her eyes settle back on his face. She looks unsure about his decision, but instead of fighting she just nods and pats him on the arm.

“You know you can call me if you need me?”

“Of course I do, love.”

“I mean it, Scotty. I know I’ve been a bit neglectful lately, what with the wedding and stuff, but you’re still one of my best friends.”

Scott shakes his head at her. He gets it. This wedding is going to be the best day of her life so of course she’s been concentrating on that, and then with this new album, none of them have really had time to just sit and talk like they used to. Yes, he misses his friend, but Scott does know that she’s always a phone call away. And maybe he’s as much to blame for the distance. He’s been so preoccupied with keeping himself together that he’s started shutting people out.

It’s only been a week since Mitch’s birthday, but it feels like much longer.

“I know, Kit. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much to help out with the wedding.”

“That’s not what I meant, babe, and you know it.” She shakes her head sadly. “I’ll tell you what; me and you, girls’ day tomorrow. We have the day off and we need to sort out a suit for you. Come round to mine and we’ll look online, drink tea, and watch Disney movies all day.”

“Only if the dress code is onesies.” Scott points at Kirstie and she starts giggling.

“Duh.” Her phone rings and she pulls it out her pocket. “Oh, Jeremy is waiting. I gotta go. Just come over whenever tomorrow, okay?”

Scott nods and pulls her into his arms. “Thank you. See you tomorrow.”

She leaves with a small wave and instantly, Scott can feel his mood deflate. He scrubs his hand across his face again before turning to ask Mitch if he wanted to call a car, but he’s already gone.

--

Scott’s been home for five minutes before he decides he doesn’t want to be there any longer. Mitch wasn’t home when he got back, looked like he hadn’t been there for a couple of days, and Scott can’t help but wonder where he’s been sleeping. He shakes the thought away before it sends him into a spiral. He was already nervous about bumping into Mitch alone; he doesn’t want to create drama when he doesn’t need to.

Pulling his phone out his pocket quickly, he sends a text to Kirstie, ‘Hey, any chance your guest room is free tonight?’ before darting into his room to pack a bag with his toothbrush and a change of clothes. He can shower when he gets to Kirstie’s.

His phone pings. ‘Sure babe. Come over whenever. The door will be open. X’

Scooping up his bag and keys, Scott leaves his room, intending on going straight back out the door, but he stops when he passes Mitch’s room. The door is slightly ajar and he can’t help but open it further.

It’s dark in here, curtains drawn against the late evening light outside. The sheets are all crumpled up at the foot of the bed and the presents Scott left there the week before are gone. Scott looks around the room. The card he left with the gifts is up on Mitch’s bedside table. He walks over to it and picks it up, opening it to read what he wrote inside.

‘To my bestie, have the best birthday ever. You deserve the world and I hope I can give it to you one day. All my love, Scotty x’

Scott really hopes he’ll still be able to do that someday. Hopes that he’ll get over whatever this is. He has to keep reminding himself that no matter how he feels, Mitch is still first and foremost his best friend. His favourite person in the world, and no matter what, Scott can’t live without him. He doesn’t want to live without him. They’ve been in each other’s lives for far too long to end up like this. They need to fix it, and they need to fix it fast.

He exits the room, pulling the door shut behind him with a soft click.

--

Scott’s just coming out the bathroom, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. He finds Kirstie sitting at the end of the bed, playing with the cord of the hoodie he laid out to put on over his pjs. She can’t possibly know that it’s one of Mitch’s oversized ones, can’t possibly know that he picked it up on his way out the house because it still has Mitch’s scent on it. The pitying look on her face, however, suggests she knows exactly who it belongs to as she traces the embroidered lettering on the front.

When she notices him standing nervously in the doorway, she tilts her head to the side and gives him a small, sad smile. Scott smiles back, though he knows it looks forced, can feel the ache in his cheeks from trying to keep it in place for longer than a few seconds.

“So, this is how tonight is going to go,” Kirstie starts, looking at him sternly and Scott knows that he isn’t going to be able to hide any longer. He feels the panic rise in waves across his body, can feel the thin sheen of sweat on his skin and the blood rushing past his ears, but tries not to let it show. “You’re going to take these blankets to the sofa, while I get wine and ice cream out of the kitchen. And then you’re going to tell me exactly what’s going on. Every single thing. I think you need to talk to someone, and although I’m probably not the best person for the job, I’m willing to listen.”

“Kirstie,” Scott breathes out, walking towards his friend, and opening his arms to her when he’s close enough. She stands up and falls into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist. Pushing against the lump in his throat, Scott says, “You are the best qualified person for the job. I just don’t want to be a burden.”

She pats his side when she pulls away. “Let me be the judge of that. Now, go on. Blankets. I’ll be there in a second.”

Scott nods and scoops up the blankets and hoodie off the bed, following his friend out of the room and heading towards to the large, corner sofa. He moves a few cushions around and sets the blankets to the side, one for each of them. He pulls the hoodie on over his head, taking a moment to lift the collar to his nose and inhaling the scent still embedded in the fabric before spreading his hands down the front to straighten it out.

Taking a seat, Scott looks anxiously around the room, running his hands through his hair. Is he really going to do this? No one, well, no one other than his mom, knows about his feelings for Mitch. Not even Mitch, who he’s used to being in sync with, has any idea what’s going through his mind. Does he really want to tell Kirstie? He needs to tell her something because she’s not going to let it go now. Not now when he’s here after telling her he was fine only a couple of hours earlier.

“Hey. Where’s Jeremy?” Scott asks, amazed that he managed to forget that Kirstie does, in fact, live with someone. He takes the spoons and a glass of wine out of Kirstie’s hands so she can sit down without spilling anything.

“Oh. He went out with some friends tonight. We were supposed to be going out to dinner, but you texted and I told him we’d reschedule.” She shrugs it off like it’s no big deal and starts arranging blankets around them until she’s settled against his side, looking at him like she’s waiting for him to start.

Scott feels guilt stab him in the gut alongside the anxiety and it makes him feel nauseous and dizzy. This is why he hadn’t told anyone, especially Kirstie. She has a whole life outside the band and he’s intruding in it with his stupidity. Not only that, she’s best friends with both of them. They are the Trio. The original three. It’s supposed to be them against the world, fighting stereotypes and breaking the mould, and Scott’s expecting her to listen to him moan and whine about Mitch without it affecting anything.

“Shit, Kirstie. I’m so sorry. I should’ve thought before I asked to come over.” Tears well up in his eyes and he chokes around a sip of wine.

“Hey, hey, Scooter. It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s okay.” Kirstie starts stroking a thumb under his eyes to catch the spilling tears. She smiles comfortingly at him. “It was just an ordinary dinner. Your feelings are way more important to me. And to Jeremy. He told me to tell you you’re welcome here as long as you want. Okay?”

Scott nods, throat sore from trying to stop the sobs erupting out of his chest. Pulling away from Kirstie for a moment, he rubs at his face with his sleeve, sniffing to clear his nose. Kirstie gives him a disgusted look before handing over a box of tissues from the side of the sofa. He laughs sheepishly.

“So, what’s going on, Scott? Why are you so sad all of a sudden? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

Scott hums in agreement. He can’t ever remember feeling like this. Not even after breaking up with Alex the year before. He can’t remember ever having this mind-numbing depression that leaves him exhausted no matter how much he sleeps, that leaves him feeling despondent one moment and on edge at the next. It’s getting ridiculous. If it was happening to anyone else he’d tell them to see someone about it, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Not yet.

He looks at his friend, sees the openness in her face, her willingness to listen to him no matter what he says. He draws on it to build up the courage to speak.

“I’m in love with Mitch.”

Chapter Text

It surprises him how easy it is to say the words out loud. Scott always thought that would be the hardest part. He feels relief. It’s instant and freeing and he’s able to take a deep breath afterwards, one he can feel in his toes. The weight on his shoulders eases a bit, enough that he can feel the tension in his back relax.

When he focuses back on Kirstie’s face, she’s grinning. Like won the lottery smiling. Like won ‘The Sing-Off’ smiling. Like they’ve won another Grammy smiling. It startles him. Why is she so happy about this? He definitely isn’t. All it’s done is ruin his friendship. He frowns at her until she stops and just looks confused.

“Why are you frowning? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No!” he shrieks at her. “No, it’s definitely not a good thing. Why would it be a good thing?”

“Because it’s Mitch! Your best friend. The person who you tell everyone is perfect and gorgeous, and you’re always in your own little bubble when you’re together.” Kirstie picks her wine glass up and takes a sip before gently putting it back down. She turns her whole body towards him and takes his hands in hers. “Sweetie, how is this a bad thing? You’re literally perfect for each other.”

Scott whimpers, closing his eyes against the feelings thrumming through his body. While he can agree that they’d be perfect together, he can’t bring himself to feel the same excitement she feels. All this feeling has done is cause trouble, ruin his life, his home, his friendship. He feels Kirstie squeeze his hands and he looks back up at her face.

“Scotty?”

“He doesn’t feel the same,” Scott whispers, not realising he’s closed his eyes again until Kirstie cups his cheek in her hand.

“Have you asked him?”

He starts shaking his head hard at her, knocking her hand away. No way. That is not happening. Mitch is already avoiding him and they’ve only spent a few hours in the same room as each other in over a week, and before then time spent together was sporadic at best. There is no way he’s going to spill his guts to his best friend. He would really fuck up his friendship then. Nope, no way, not a chance in hell.

Scott’s still shaking his head when Kirstie takes his head in her hands, effectively stopping him in his tracks. He can feel how wide his eyes are, can feel the panicky breaths he’s taking, the cold sweat prickling his skin. His vision focuses again back on Kirstie as she kneels up next to him on the sofa, putting her forehead against his.

“Scotty. Scotty. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Breathe,” she says quietly to him, stroking the side of his head where her fingers rest. He breathes deeply, matching each breath with Kirstie’s until the panic subsides. “Hey. I’m going to get you a bottle of water. Wine isn’t going to be good for you at the moment. I’ll be right back.”

She climbs off the sofa, dashing into the kitchen. Scott can hear the fridge open and close and within seconds she’s back at his side, pushing a cool bottle of water into his hands and waiting patiently while he drinks half the bottle in one go, spluttering as he tries to swallow too much at once.

“Right,” she starts, “Let’s try this again, and please don’t freak out. I’m not saying you have to tell him right this second, or ever if you don’t want to, okay?” Scott nods and Kirstie takes it as her cue to continue. “Why haven’t you talked to Mitch about it?”

Scott takes a moment to think of an answer. Where does he start? The fact that he doesn’t want to ruin his friendship, or what’s left of it, possibly alienating the most important person in his life? Or does he say that it’s blatantly obvious that he isn’t as important to Mitch? Mitch hasn’t exactly been reaching out to him recently. Or does he go down the self-deprecating route and tell her he doesn’t think he’s good enough for Mitch? That no one is ever going to be good enough for Mitch?

He can’t think of an appropriate reason for not telling Mitch that won’t make Kirstie look sad, or make himself cry again. Even trying to think of something hurts. Every doubt he’s ever had about himself, every insecurity rises to the surface until he wants to climb into bed and never come out again.

He shrugs as his answer and buries his face in his hands, pushing so hard against his eyelids with his fingers that stars burst in the darkness behind them.

“Okay. Okay,” Kirstie says, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. Scott leans into it, appreciating the gesture. He absolutely adores Kirstie, and even though it feels like he’ll never be happy again, he’s thankful for her companionship. “Let’s get you into bed, okay? It’s been a long day and we still have our movie day tomorrow.”

Scott smiles. It’s small and barely lifts his cheeks, but it’s a smile. She beams back at him.

--

“No, Mom, you don’t need to come and stay for a while. I’m fine.” Knowing his mom won’t be able to see, Scott rolls his eyes.

“You keep saying you’re fine, sweetie, but I’ve seen the text messages to your sisters, and the Instagram posts, and now even my Twitter account is blowing up with fans asking if you’re okay.”

Scott shudders at the memory. The pap photos of him walking through LA, snapback on over greasy hair and his clothes a couple of days old. He’d only popped to Starbucks for a quick fix while Kirstie and Jeremy were out, but he saw the flashes out of the corner of his eye. He’d hoped they wouldn’t get posted, that the media would deem him not popular enough, but they’d been posted anyway, and then one fan spotted them and tweeted them. Soon enough, they were all sharing the photos, and his mentions had blown up with people demanding to know if he was okay, if he was ill, if he was dying. It got boring and tedious after a while, so he’d put his phone on silent and stayed away from any social media.

Even Mitch had text Kirstie to ask if he was okay, which made him happy for all of thirty seconds, before he realised that he hadn’t asked Scott if he was okay. If he needed proof he was being avoided, that was it right there.

For the last few weeks, he’s been alternating sleeping at Kirstie’s, Nicole’s and the studio, not wanting overstay his welcome in any one place, but he could only get away with staying at the studio for one night at a time before Kirstie turned up in her pjs to drag him away with a frown on her face and “I have a perfectly good spare room. Why you think the studio is better is beyond me.” She was a force to be reckoned with when she was determined to help.

“Scott?” He’s jolted back into the present by his mom’s voice coming through the phone.

“What, Mom?” He snaps, instantly regretting it. He sighs and rubs at his face before trying again. “Sorry, Mom. I’m just a bit busy at the moment.”

He turns in place, surveying the crowd of people in the disused parking lot. They’re shooting a new music video today, the first one for the new album and he’d rather be anywhere else but here, which is a first for him. Normally he acts like an excited puppy on video shoots, bouncing around the set until someone drags him to the side to stop him from breaking something. But Scott can’t bring himself to enjoy it.

The song is amazing; one of his favourites, but it’s a slow song with haunting melodies that he can hear Mitch singing in his head every second of the day.

Scott’s looking over the crowd when he spots Mitch at the back. He’s with Nicole, heads bent low together as they talk. Every now and again, Nicole glances over at him, but doesn’t indicate that she’s seen him watching. When Mitch looks at him though, he stops talking, standing up straight and tilting his head appraisingly. It makes butterflies flutter in his stomach, and not in a pleasant way.

“Scott, what is going on with you?” his mom asks.

“I’m just a bit stressed, what with the new album and all, and we’re shooting a video today, but one of the cameras broke so they’re trying to fix it before it gets dark.”

“And the Mitch thing?”

Scott sighs again. Sometimes he hates that he tells his mom everything. It always comes back to bite him in the ass.

“Hmm. Ongoing.”

“Oh Scotty. Please don’t let this go on for much longer. If he won’t talk to you, you need to talk to him.”

“I know, Mom. I know.”

“Scott, I’m sorry to interrupt but we need you,” Kirstie says, walking up to him and laying her hand on his arm in an apology. Scott looks up to see everyone waiting for him. He nods to acknowledge them. He inadvertently locks eyes with Mitch and he feels a shudder run through his body at the blank look on his face. When Kirstie taps him on his arm to get his attention, he startles, but quickly gathers himself.

“Okay, Kit.” He smiles at her when she nods at him. “Look, Mom. I need to go. I promise you I’m okay. I love you and I’ll call you in a couple of days.”

“I love you too. Look after yourself.”

He hangs up the phone. Steeling himself for a long afternoon, he walks back towards the group of people waiting. He doesn’t lock eyes with Mitch again.

--

Scott is freaking out.

How the hell did this happen?

He specifically remembers asking Esther to book him a single room, but here he is, riding an elevator up to a room - a room he’s sharing with Mitch.

Granted, it’s only two nights whilst they’re in New York doing promo work for the new album, but they haven’t spent longer than a few hours in each other’s presence for weeks. The thought of being in the same room as his best friend, alone, sleeping, getting ready at the same time, is enough to make him nauseous. He knows someone needs to make the first move, but Scott thinks if he tries to speak right now, he’ll probably vomit all over the ugly carpet under his feet.

Scott used to love spending all his time with Mitch. Couldn’t get enough of it being just the two of them. After touring they used to lock themselves away for a day. Just Scott and Mitch hanging out, being domestic; cooking real food and sleeping in their own beds, taking naps on the sofa when they were supposed to be watching a movie, playing with Wyatt and getting Starbucks.

He feels himself go soft at remembering how relaxed and happy Mitch used to be around him. And now Mitch looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

No, Scott, don’t even think about crying .

“So, erm, how have you been?”

Scott snaps his head up, so sharp he feels the pull in his neck, and sucks in a deep breath. Mitch’s body is tilted towards him, even though he’s not looking anywhere near Scott’s face.

“Okay. I guess,” Scott answers around the dryness in his throat, “You?”

“Same.”

An awkward silence envelopes the pair. The elevator pings as they reach their floor, the noise echoing in the void. Mitch struggles to get a hold of his suitcase, cursing as it tilts to the side.

“Here, let me.”

Scott reaches a hand out to take the case from Mitch, something he always used to do, chivalry ingrained in him. But when he touches Mitch’s hand, he jolts back like he’s been burned, fingertips tingling where he grazed Mitch’s skin. He clears his throat, hand to his mouth. His eyes dart up to Mitch’s face. Goosebumps erupt over his body when he catches Mitch’s gaze. Neither attempt to break it, content with looking into each other eyes.

A moment passes.

“Scott?”

Chapter Text

“Scott?”

“Yes?” Scott responds softly, scared to raise his voice above a whisper. They stand there looking at each other, Scott eyes drinking in the person before him. It’s been so long since he’s been this close to Mitch and the proximity is making him dizzy. He feels a blush creep up his neck and a sweat breaks out across the back of his neck, but Scott won’t be the person to look away first.

Before he’s able to get an answer, the doors of the elevator start sliding shut again and the moment is broken.

“Shit,” Mitch exclaims, pushing the door open button as Scott darts forward to stop the doors with his hand.

When they open back up, Scott looks expectantly at Mitch, but Mitch shakes his head sadly and walks past him into the corridor, lugging his suitcase behind him. Scott sighs and follows, but stops Mitch with a hand on his shoulder and takes the suitcase from him, adjusting his own backpack across his shoulders to compensate.

“Thank you,” Mitch whispers.

They reach the door to their room. Mitch opens it with his key card and lets Scott through first, closing and locking the door quietly behind them. Scott lifts Mitch’s case onto the bed closest to the bathroom and slides his backpack from his shoulders, dumping it on the second bed. Mitch settles on the edge of the bed, playing with the ring on his thumb.

Silence settles over the two once again, but it isn’t awkward this time. They’ve done this routine a million times before and it’s as familiar to them as singing. Get to the room, unpack the essentials. Mitch will take the first shower as he’ll take longer to get ready afterwards, whereas Scott can just jump in twenty minutes before they’re due to leave and still be ready before Mitch has even decided on what outfit he’s wearing. Scott doesn’t expect tonight to be any different.

He starts pulling his wash bag out, and it’s only when he’s shaking out his clothes that he realises Mitch hasn’t moved. He turns to find Mitch is already looking at him.

“Hey,” Mitch says when he realises he’s been caught, the tops of his cheeks turning pink.

“Hey,” Scott responds, sitting on the edge of his bed directly in front of Mitch. He leans forward resting his elbows on his knees. Mitch looks nervous, almost like he’s scared of what Scott is going to say or do, so Scott keeps his mouth shut and settles for taking in Mitch’s appearance.

Mitch looks exhausted; deep, purple bags under his eyes, spots breaking out around his hairline. His lips are cracked like he’s been chewing on them, collar of his t-shirt stretched like he’s been tugging on it (and Scott recognises this t-shirt, knows it drapes perfectly across Mitch’s small frame). He looks like he’s running on empty, eyes dull and skin pale, swaying slightly on the edge of the bed.

Even though it’s no excuse for the way Mitch has been treating him lately, it settles something in Scott to know he’s not been completely immune to the distance, to know he’s possibly been missing Scott as much as Scott has been missing him.

It makes him want to pull the smaller man into his arms, cuddle him against his chest and insist he talk, tell him what’s been going on lately, and once upon a time, he would’ve, but Scott still hurts, still feels the hole in his chest where his heart used to be and the sickness in the pit of his stomach at the thought of losing Mitch completely.

“What time do we have to meet the others for dinner?” Mitch asks.

Scott looks at the time on his watch, sees that they still have a couple of hours until they have to be anywhere.

“Esther said to meet in the lobby at 8. You could take a nap if you wanted; you look like you’re going to pass out any second.”

“You always know how to make a girl feel special,” Mitch fires back, lips lifting up at the corners like he’s trying to stop a smile from forming. Mitch stands, turning and lifting his case to put it on the floor at the foot of the bed. He slides his shirt over his head, revealing smooth skin that begs to be touched.

Scott feels himself blush, ducking his head and chuckling. This he can get on board with; bantering back and forth like there isn’t something hanging over the two of them.

“Yeah, well, if those bags under your eyes get any bigger you’ll be able to carry your phone in them.”

Mitch scoffs in disbelief, clutching his hands against his chest, before laughing, so loud and deep Scott worries that their neighbours will be able to hear it.

--

Two days in New York pass by so quickly, Scott feels like he’s going to get whiplash. The last few months feel like they lasted a lifetime and forty-eight hours have passed by like nothing.

It was fun and (almost) pain-free and, although Mitch went back to avoiding him during the day, sticking to Avi’s side during interviews and cab rides between places, he came back to the room the same time as Scott, laughing hard at Scott’s lame jokes and teasing him for messing up his words as he was talking.

It felt like old times, made Scott feel lighter than he has in a long time, which is why he crashes so bad when they get home and he finds that nothing has really changed.

Their driver pulls up in front of the house, letting the two of them out the back and helping them pulls their bags out the trunk. Scott thanks him and drags Mitch’s case behind him as they walk up to the front door. Mitch unlocks the door and lets them in, locking it behind them.

“Hey, do you want to record a Superfruit episode later? Only we haven’t done that in so long that I think the fans are starting to wonder,” Scott asks, nervously running his fingers through his messy hair. They haven’t been alone together in this house for so long. Scott forgot how much he missed it being just the two of them.

“Hmm.” Mitch looks up from where he’s been typing on his phone. Scott can see the exact moment the wall rises back up, can see how Mitch can’t meet his eyes and looks seconds away from bolting out the door.

“You know what?” Scott starts, anger starting to brew under the surface, “Forget about it. I’ll just send a tweet again.”

Scott walks away from Mitch, leaving his case on the floor and heads towards his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Fuck him, Scott thinks, leaning against the door and smacking his head against it. He’s not going to be treated like a doormat any longer.

No more tears, no more pining.

He’s moving on.

--

“That’s all they really waaaannnnntttttttt, some ffffuuuuun-uuunnnn,” Scott sings as he sets his shot glass down on the bar in front of him. “Another please?” he asks the bartender, before turning to Kirstie. “This is fun, isn’t it? We’re having fun?”

Kirstie rolls her eyes at him. “Oh, yes, tons,” her voice drips with sarcasm and Scott frowns.

“Well, I’m having fun. So much fun. I don’t feel sad and I. Am. Over. It.”

“Scotty, you’re not feeling anything other than the eighth shot in a row. Please, slow down. I can’t carry your drunk ass back to the car by myself.”

“I’m good. I’m good. Want me to do the ‘drunk test’? What is it? Stand on one foot and recite the alphabet backwards?” Scott hiccups, starting to push himself off the barstool, losing balance for a second before grabbing the edge of the bar, Kirstie jumping off her seat to steady him. “Whoa.”

“Hey, Scotty, I think it’s time to go home.”

Scott stands there for a second, eyes focusing in and out before he lifts a hand to his stomach that’s doing backflips, nausea welling up inside. He takes deep breaths until it subsides and blinks his eyes until he can see Kirstie clearly.

Home? Where is home now? He thought home was wherever Mitch is, but he got that very wrong. But who cares anymore? Certainly not Scott. Scott is over it. Over him. In fact, he’s got his eye on a very handsome gentleman that’s been eyeing him up at the other side of the bar all night.

Kirstie follows his line of sight, sighing loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Okay, Scotty. Definitely time to go home. My home. Where I can keep an eye on you. Come on.”

She grabs his hand in hers, tugging him towards the door.

“Okay, Kit. Let’s go home,” Scott agrees easily enough, sleep pulling at his body, guy already forgotten. He could do with some rest. “Girls, they wanna have fun.”

--

Scott decides that if he’s paying for this house, he’s going to actually start living here again. He can only put up with living out of a suitcase for so long before needing the comfort of home, the comfort of his own bed and his own company. And if he’s going to confront Mitch about his behaviour eventually, it will be in their own home, without any audiences, where Scott is most comfortable.

After another video shoot for Pentatonix, Scott opens the front door, exhaustion pulling at his body and eyes struggling to stay open. He rubs his arm across his face before pulling the key out of the lock, pushing it shut behind him with his body as he juggles bags and belongings.

He didn’t even bother waiting for Mitch this time, knowing that it’s a waste of time and a lost cause.

Making it to his room, Scott dumps all the stuff in his hands on the bed. He kicks off his shoes, moving towards his closet to hang up his jacket when he looks down, eyes drawn to the blanket-covered box that he last looked at all those weeks ago, and was the start of the worst time in his life.

Scott moves to kneel down, to pull it out and look at all the stuff, maybe clear out a few things, when he hears the front door open and loud voices enter, before it closes behind them with a click. This is not happening again.

The voices get louder and louder until they’re right outside of Scott’s open doorway.

“Oh, hey. I didn’t know you were coming back here tonight,” Mitch says, glancing at his friend, who has his arm wrapped around Mitch’s waist.

“Clearly,” Scott snaps, anger brewing under the surface.

Mitch arches his eyebrow in surprise. “What’s with the attitude?”

Scott grits his teeth to stop himself from saying something he’ll regret, clenching his hands into fists at his side.

“Hey, I’m just going to go. Okay, Mitch?” the friend says, obviously uncomfortable with tension between the two.

Not taking his eyes off Scott, Mitch responds, “Okay. I’ll call you later.”

Once the door closes, Mitch crosses the threshold. “What’s going on, Scott?” he asks calmly, though Scott can see how rigid his shoulders are, like he’s ready for a fight.

“We need to talk.”

Chapter Text

“We need to talk.”

Scott walks over to the end of his bed and takes a seat, patting the empty space next to him. He looks up at Mitch expectantly. He can feel the anger still thrumming through his body, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself. This conversation isn’t going to work if Scott loses his temper.

This is it. Scott has no idea if this will fix anything or if it will break them so badly that they can’t recover from it, but the only way he’s ever going to be happy (or anything close to it) is if they talk and find out what the hell happened to cause this distance between them. Scott knows what’s going through his own mind, but as in sync he is, or used to be, with his best friend, he’s not a mind reader.

And Scott really wants to sort this out, wants to go back to the relationship he used to have with Mitch before he realised he was in love with him. It was fun and it was easy. It was the best thing in Scott’s life, better than the band even, and he wants it back, needs it back. Honestly, he blames Tumblr for this whole mess. If he hadn’t been searching through the Scomiche tag in the first place, maybe this would never have happened.

They used to be inseparable, never one without the other, and now there’s this giant wall between them. Scott can feel it even as Mitch sits next to him, pressed up against him like he needs to the closeness just as much as Scott does. An involuntary smile pulls at his lips, and when he glances out the corner of his eye at Mitch, he can see it reflected on Mitch’s face.

“So, what’s going on, Scott?” Mitch asks. Scott shrugs his shoulders in response, making Mitch sigh. Scott looks down at his hands, picking at the skin by the side of his thumb. Mitch closes his hand over Scott’s, stopping him from making it bleed. “Okay. This isn’t going to work if you don’t actually answer me.”

“Okay.” Scott takes a deep breath and turns to look at Mitch. “Okay. Do you remember the La La Land medley?”

Mitch looks at him like he’s grown a second head, eyes squinted and lips pursed.

“Scott, I’m not likely to forget it anytime soon. I still have fans sending me gifs every day. What does that have to do with anything?”

“I just think that ever since then…” Scott clears his throat, “…You’ve been avoiding me.”

He looks up at Mitch nervously. Mitch looks stunned, and confused, like he hadn’t even noticed, like it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“And like, I get if the kiss was a bit uncomfortable for you. I do. It must’ve been weird doing it, even if you did agree to it, but it hurt me because I needed you. It was the first time I’d ever done that on camera and it was me coming out to the fans in a way, I guess. I needed you. And then you stopped answering my calls, and when we saw each other you couldn’t wait to get away from me. And then your birthday…”

“Wait. Stop. What about my birthday?”

Scott freezes. Does he confess? Is this where he tells Mitch about the big, romantic night he’d planned for them? Tell him about the meal and the cake. Tell him about the third present he’d bought. He can see the corner of the box where it sits in his open closet and it’s taunting him, daring him to tell Mitch everything.

“I, erm…, I’d made plans for us.” Okay, so not telling him then. Also, not a lie.

“Scott, I’m sorry. I had no idea you had something planned. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because it wasn’t important. I went to bed instead.”

“You could’ve come out with us though. I did tell Kirstie to text you and let you know where we were. My phone died quite early on in the night.”

He does remember the text, remembers opening it up but being far too stuck in his misery to even consider moving from the floor. Instead, he’d closed it and cleaned up. Dumped the presents on Mitch’s bed and went to bed. Curled up on top of the blankets, fisted his hands under his chin and cried.

“Scotty?”

He jumps as Mitch pulls him out of his head. He rubs a hand over his eyes.

“What’s going on?” Mitch asks again. “I know that isn’t all of it. You can’t lie to me to save your life.”

At that Scott laughs, laughs loud and hard. Laughs for so long, tears stream down his face and his face aches when he calms down enough to breath. When he looks over at Mitch his face is pinched into a frown.

“Oh, Mitch. You have no idea, do you?”

“No idea about what? I’m so confused right now.” His friend stands from the bed, clutching at the sides of his head. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“You wouldn’t’ve noticed if I’d moved out. I practically did, but you still didn’t text me. Didn’t call me.”

“Scott, what are you talking about?”

If Mitch wants to be like that, acting completely oblivious to what’s going on, maybe Scott should spell it out for him.

“You haven’t been here!” he shrieks, frustration evident in his tone and he can feel his face going red.

Mitch whirls on the spot to face him, shock on his face at Scott’s raised voice, eyes wide and mouth open. Scott has never raised his voice at Mitch, has never needed to. They’ve always been on the same page, and it annoys Scott that Mitch can’t see how broken they are, can’t see that they’re being ripped apart at the seams. A tremble starts in Scott’s body until he feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. He clenches his hand into fists in his lap.

“What do you mean I ‘haven’t been here?’ In case you forgot, I live here too.”

Scott scoffs. “Oh, really? Could’ve fooled me.”

“Oh my god,” Mitch whines. He scrubs at his face, making his skin red and his eyes tear up. “Stop talking in riddles and just tell me what the problem is.”

“I’m in love with you!” Scott screams at his best friend, anger dissipating when he realises what he just said.

He ignores Mitch’s surprised, “You what?” before barrelling on.

“And you just dropped me. Like I was a massive inconvenience to you. I know you have other friends, I know you have this other life without me and I don’t care about any of that. I’m happy for you. When we first moved here you were so introverted and scared about everything, and it’s been like watching a butterfly crack out of its chrysalis and I’ve loved watching it happen. But I’ve been here this whole time and it’s like you don’t see me. I’ve loved you for so long and it hurt to see you parading these other guys around every night.”

Mitch rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t every night.”

Scott quirks an eyebrow at him, but chooses not to respond to it.

“I was going to tell you on your birthday. For so long, I wasn’t going to. You are the most important person to me, my best friend and favourite person, and I didn’t want to rock the boat. Didn’t want to lose you. And then you stood me up. You started avoiding me. So I thought you’d realised what was going on and was trying to distance yourself from me. And Mitch. That hurt me so much. Did you know I’d been sleeping at the studio when we were recording the album? Did you even notice I wasn’t there?”

The silence he gets in response is answer enough.

Mitch starts fiddling with his bracelet, sliding it up and down his thin wrist.

“Right, okay.” Scott feels his whole body deflate, feels the strings holding his shoulders up cut, and if it wasn’t for his pride, he’d be a puddle of sadness on the floor. “I guess that’s it then. It’s obvious you mean so much more to me than I do to you. I should’ve guessed it would come to this.”

With tears clouding his vision, Scott stands from the end of the bed. He walks towards his closet and grabs his empty suitcase, inadvertently pulling the blanket off the box, but he doesn’t notice. He starts grabbing clothes off the rails, dumping them into the case. He opens drawers and pulls out underwear and socks, dropping those on top. He zips it up and the sound makes Mitch move towards him.

“Wait,” Mitch grabs his arm, “What are you doing?”

Scott rips his arm from Mitch’s grasp. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m leaving. I know when I’m not wanted, and I’m not waiting around for you to notice me anymore.” He pulls his suitcase off the bed. He grabs his keys and his phone, sliding them into his pockets. “I’ll be at Kirstie’s if you need me, but you won’t. I doubt you’ll even notice I’m not here.”

With that Scott leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

--

“So you just walked out?” Kirstie asks as Scott unpacks his case in her guest room.

He’d shown up at her door twenty minutes before, tears in his eyes, asking if he could stay with her until he sorted something out.

Scott sighs. “Yes. It was quite obvious he doesn’t feel the same way about me when he didn’t even acknowledge what I said.”

“Oh, Scotty. What are you going do now?”

“I have no idea, Kit. Get a new place, I guess. We were never going to live together forever.”

“That’s a lie.”

Scott turns to his friend as she folds t-shirts and pants into piles to be placed into drawers. She looks as sad as he feels, but no more. He isn’t going to cry about it anymore. He’s going to make a concerted effort to get over Mitch Grassi, to move on with his life and not look back. And the thought alone makes him feel like someone has stabbed his heart and twisted the goddamn knife, but he’s sure over time he’ll be okay. He has to be.

Chapter Text

It’s been a month since Scott moved into Kirstie’s guest room. A long month. He’s only seen Mitch for band-related events, and it’s been hard seeing his best friend look more and more withdrawn every time. So much so that Scott was ready to hang up his towel and beg for forgiveness. That was until Kirstie smacked him (lightly) around the back of the head and told him he had nothing to be sorry for, that Mitch needs to be shown what he was missing, that it wasn’t on Scott to fix this anymore. The ball was well and truly in Mitch’s court.

It’s after a long day of shooting another music video that Scott finds himself in the studio, alone, pressing keys on the piano as his ‘anti break-up’ playlist plays from his phone. He’s well aware that they weren’t ever together to start with. It seemed strange to Kirstie when she caught him blasting Adele when he was cooking, but he just shrugged her off. He may not be grieving for a broken relationship, but he’s definitely grieving for a broken friendship.

He said he wouldn’t cry anymore, not that he wouldn’t feel sad.

Christina Perri has finished singing about running round leaving scars and collecting hearts when another song starts, and he gets an idea.

Ideally, he’d have Shawn helping him for this, but he’s not going to drag his friend out of bed for a stupid idea. It’s late, far too late for him to be here still and this is going to upset a lot of people, but he can’t bring himself to care. Scott darts into the cupboard, pulling out the spare camera that’s kept in there, almost happy when a full battery symbol blinks up at him. He sets it up on the tripod, facing the piano.

He pulls up sheet music on his phone and memorises some of the chords, figuring he’ll be able to work out the rest as he goes. It can’t be that difficult. Scott knows this song like the back of his hand, and granted, he wishes he had time to learn to play it on guitar, but if he doesn’t do this now, he’ll chicken out, and he doesn’t want that. He needs to do this like he needs to breathe.

Playing through the song a couple of times, he’s happy with what he can do in such a short amount of time, so he presses ‘record’ on the camera and sings.

Let’s talk this over,

It’s not like we’re dead,

Was it something I did?

Was it something you said?

Don’t leave me hanging,

In a city so dead,

Held up so high,

On such an unbreakable thread,

He belts out the next part, letting all his emotion show, looking direct at the camera. His voice cracks, but he catches it before it gets any worse.

You were all the things I thought I knew

And I thought we could be

When the chorus kicks in, he closes his eyes as he belts out the lyrics, hands flying over the piano keys.

You were everything, everything that I wanted

We were meant to be, supposed to be but we lost it

All of the memories, so close to me, just fade away

All this time you were pretending,

So much for my happy ending.

Scott makes his way through the rest of the song, voice straining to reach the high notes, face flushed as he lets the song speak for him. He looks at the camera as he sings the last few lines, bringing his voice down to a whisper, voice cracking on the final ‘ so much for my happy ending .’

He waits a moment before jumping from his seat to stop the camera. Not even bothering to watch it back, knowing that if he sees it, sees all the raw emotion on his face, he’ll question it, so he uploads it to a laptop and posts it to his YouTube channel.

Half an hour later, Scott’s in his car, driving back to Kirstie’s where she’ll have wine and ice cream waiting again. And cuddles. He could go for some cuddles right now. Even now, after all the heartbreak and sadness, he wishes it was someone else waiting at home.

--

It’s early the following morning and Scott’s wide awake. His phone has been blowing up all night. He tried putting it on silent, but his sisters were calling and texting, and he couldn’t afford to miss them, so he made do with the constant vibrating. He doesn’t feel that tired considering he’s only slept a couple of hours, but he’s surprised he managed to sleep at all.

He hasn’t even shared the video, didn’t post a link to his Twitter account like he usually does, but people can see his channel, and they have notifications turned on for when he posts new content. All it takes is one fan sharing it, and the rest of the fandom will see it.

Scott picks his phone up off the side and settles back down, fluffing the pillows up behind his head. Bypassing the Twitters notifications, ignoring the YouTube comments, he opens up his text messages.

There’s a lot . Messages from Nicole, from Candice, Lindsey, Esther. Messages from Avi and Kevin. Even one from his manager, and from the preview he is not happy with Scott right now. He ignores them all when he sees one.

Mitch .

Months ago he’d have given anything to get something from Mitch. A phone call, a text, a bloody smoke signal in the sky. But now it just makes him nervous. Mitch has apparently seen the video. He’s obviously seen Scott’s attempts at throwing it back in his face, throwing all the hurt, the confusion, the mess he’s been in for months back at his friend.

He’s not proud of himself for airing his feelings in public. No, wait, he is. A little. It’s taken a little bit of the weight off his shoulders. And it was a good video from what he saw. Kirstie made him sit down and watch it, and between the smile gracing her lips and the tears in her eyes, he knows he created something he can be pleased with.

Scott opens the message.

Can you please come home?

His fingers hover over the keys, but he doesn’t type anything. It’s about time he gave Mitch a taste of his own medicine. Right? He can afford to be selfish right now. He exits the app and locks his phone, reaching to put it on the nightstand just as a knock sounds at the door.

“Can I come in? Are you decent?” Kirstie calls through the closed door.

“Why the hell wouldn’t I be decent?” Scott calls back as Kirstie opens the door. “This isn’t my house. I have some manners.”

Kirstie quirks an eyebrow at him, but she comes bearing coffee, so Scott ignores it, lest it be poured over his head.

“Thanks,” he says as she hands it to him, taking a sip before putting on the nightstand next to his phone that’s still buzzing incessantly.

“Has it been doing that all night?” Kirstie asks. She sits on the edge of the bed and nods towards the phone that is still beating out an ever-growing crescendo of vibrations, so much that, Scott worries for a moment that it’s going to fall off the side, but he ignores it, choosing to answer his friend.

“Yep. I had a break for about an hour before another time zone picked up on it, but it’s been nonstop since I posted it.”

“I bet. Billboard even posted a link to it on their Twitter account.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “I didn’t do it for the promo.”

“Honey, I know that. But people are talking about it. Even my Twitter has gone crazy with people asking if you’re okay.”

Pulling the blankets further up under his chin, Scott clears his throat before asking, “Has he texted you?”

Kirstie tilts her head appraisingly. Scott stares back until she sighs. “Yes. He texted me just after you went to bed and he’s texting me again this morning.”

“And?”

“I think he knows he’s messed up and that he’s sorry.”

“Good,” Scott snaps.

“Scotty, stop.” She grabs his hand and pulls it into her lap, wrapping her slender fingers around his.

Her hands look tiny in his, and it reminds him of another pair of small hands. Hands that fitted perfectly in his, fingers entwined as they explored cities, or sat on the sofa watching TV; hands that were soft and delicate as they ran along his arm when they were talking.

“You know you don’t mean that.” Kirstie’s words pull him back into the present, and he sees the disappointment on her face.

He sighs. “No, you’re right. I don’t.”

Scott reaches for his phone again and sees another message from Mitch.

Scotty, please come home.

He hands his phone to Kirstie, who shakes her head. “It’s up to you, sweetie. But please, don’t let all the hurt and bitterness ruin whatever it is that’s between you two. You’re better than this. I believe in you.”

She leaves him to his thoughts with a kiss on his cheek. Scott snuggles back down into the blankets and stares at Mitch’s words on his phone until his vision blurs and he feels numb.

--

A few hours later, Scott and Kirstie are sat on the sofa watching ‘Cinderella’ when his phone buzzes again. It’s slowed down a lot in the last couple of hours, and he’s not looked at it since Kirstie dragged him out of bed, content with ignoring everything going on outside the house.

When Kirstie’s phone pings not even thirty seconds later, though, they look at each other before Kirstie reaches for it off the coffee table.

“Erm, Scott, you might want to look at something,” she says nervously before darting from the room and coming back with her laptop. She places it on the coffee table before him and excuses herself.

Wondering what has caused Kirstie to flee, he picks up his phone. He rolls his eyes at another text from Mitch but stops himself when he sees a link to YouTube – a link to Superfruit’s YouTube channel. With shaking hands, he sets up the laptop and painstakingly copies it into the address bar.

He drops back against the sofa though when he sees the title.

“ I’m sorry.”

Tentatively, he presses ‘play’.

Chapter Text

Is it recording?...Great, thanks.

A door opens and closes on screen, and then Mitch is alone. He turns to face the camera. Half of his face is in shadow, and the other half looks so bone crushingly tired that Scott’s heart aches for him. He reaches out a hand and caresses the screen of the laptop, feeling a lump form in his throat at how sad his friend looks, how tired his eyes are, how pale he is.

If you’re not going to answer my messages, then I’m going to do it this way. And I don’t blame you for not responding, Scott, not after the way I’ve been treating you. I owe you an explanation, and if this is the only way of getting through to you…

Mitch trails off as he reaches for a water glass off camera, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip. He clears his throat before continuing.

At the moment, this video is private. Only you and I can see it. It’s up to you whether you make it public. I have nothing to hide anymore, and I need to apologise to the fans as well for being the reason why Superfruit was on hiatus, but I can do that in another video if that’s what you’d prefer.

Let me start by apologising. Scott, I am so sorry for the way I’ve acted these last few months. For making you think I didn’t care. For not noticing that you weren’t around. That’s entirely on me, and I will regret making you feel like that for the rest of my life. I can’t handle the thought that I’ve upset you, that my selfish behaviour is the reason why we’re in this situation.

I’m sorry for not spending enough time with you, for making you think other people were more important when they’re not, not at all, and for making you think I was avoiding you. I’m sorry for not thanking you for my incredibly beautiful birthday presents. It means a lot to me that you put time and thought into what to buy me. I know they weren’t cheap. And you’ve already given me the world.

Mitch smiles softly at the camera.

You’ve given me a wonderful home, a safe place to go whenever the world gets a little bit too scary. You’ve given me a career I’d only ever dreamt of; it’s through all your hard work that Pentatonix ever happened, and without it, I’d probably be working in a coffee shop right now. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course, but it wasn’t what I saw on the cards for us when we were singing and acting as kids. You’ve given me a life I never knew I wanted until it happened, and I’m glad I’ve been able to share every single second of it with you.

You are like sunshine, always brightening up my day. You are like the moon, guiding me through the darkest of nights.

I know it hurt you when I stood you up after you made plans for us that evening. I had no idea it was so important to you. It never even crossed my mind that you weren’t there because you’d planned something, and it should’ve. I should’ve noticed that. I should’ve made more of an effort. I should’ve called; I should’ve texted. I should’ve done a lot of things.

He stops speaking and the smile drops. He lifts a hand up to rub at his eyes, making the purple underneath stand out even further. Scott sighs sadly, wishing more than anything he could reach through the screen and hug his friend.

Maybe that’s us all over, though. You always put so much into this friendship, and I always give so little. You make sure I’m happy and comfortable. You protect me and make me feel safe wherever we go. You know exactly what to do to make me smile. And sometimes I don’t feel like I do the same for you. Most of the time I know I don’t do enough for you.

“No, Mitchy. You’ve always done enough.”

You are my best friend. You are my other half in everything; in work, in life, at home. You are everything to me. The most important person in my life and you have been forever, and I want it to be that way until we’re old and still making Superfruit videos, waving around our walking sticks, false teeth falling out every time we laugh.

Scott chuckles wetly at the thought, unshed tears choking him. On screen, Mitch smiles too. His eyes glisten in the half-light that’s flooding the room behind him.

And I think while I’m apologising I should be entirely, one-hundred percent honest with you about everything.

Mitch stops on camera. He looks scared for a moment, unsure, and it makes Scott’s heart stop. What could he be hiding?

I froze when you told me you loved me because never in my wildest dreams, did I ever imagine that you, Scott Hoying, could ever love me. I mean, I know you love me. We tell each other all the time or told each other, I guess. I don’t know; it’s been a while. I’ve messed up so bad, but hopefully you still do? Or maybe you don’t anymore. And that would be totally fine.

He pauses with his hand in front of his mouth, like he’s trying to stop the words. Red engulfs his cheeks as he blushes.

I’m getting off track. Sorry.

He clears his throat. Scott can see him straighten his shoulders and his chest rises up as he takes a deep breath.

Scott, I’ve been in love with you for years.

It sounds ridiculously easy, the way Mitch says it. Like he says it all the time; like he’s been saying it for years.

Scott Hoying, I am so deeply, stupidly, ridiculously in love with you. And I wasn’t ever going to tell you.

There was no way I was going to risk ruining what we had, what we’ve had since we were kids. If you didn’t feel the same way, it would’ve killed me to carry on being just friends with you. To have you be uncomfortable around me. To have you question every touch, every passing comment. There was absolutely no way that was going to happen. Not to us.

Besides, you found someone. And it went away for a while. I moved on, as much as I could. Do you know how hard it is not to love you? You don’t make it easy. I think if everyone isn’t a little bit in love with you, they are wrong.

And for the longest time, I was okay with it. I fell into a natural cycle of loving you from afar, but always wanting to me next to you, by your side through every up and every down. When you broke up, I still didn’t tell you. You needed a friend, more than anything.

We made it through the rest of the year, and it was incredible. We’d been getting closer for a while. More cuddly, more affectionate. There were more lazy days spent snuggled on the sofa, and more quiet nights in, just the two of us. You kissed me on my cheek more, my forehead, my shoulder, more and more and more until I didn’t know what to do. Did I dare tell you I was in love with you? You certainly made it seem like you were feeling something more than just friendship.

Then came the La La Land medley. We joked about trolling the fans. “Let’s make it look like we’re kissing, and when the camera circles us, oh, we are actually kissing.” And then it happened, we kissed, finally. And even if it was just for show, my heart stopped, the mouth went dry. It took everything I had to carry on like everything was normal.

But it wasn’t normal. Nothing was normal. I had kissed my best friend; my best friend who I’d been in love with since we were kids, and if it was possible, I loved you more, wanted more, but I was more scared of the possibility of losing you. So I distanced myself. Made it so if you found out, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

In the process, I didn’t realise I was hurting you.

Tears drip down Mitch’s face. Scott feels his own tears fall. He brushes a hand across his face at the same time that Mitch does.  

And I realised all I was doing was making it worse.

It needs to stop. I need to stop. I need to try to fix this because I can’t live without you, Scotty. This last month has been the worst I’ve ever lived through. Seeing you, but not being able to touch you, or talk to you, or wake up and see you. I know this month has only been a tiny bit of what you’ve gone through, and I think that thought kills me the most. That you felt this way for so long, and I didn’t notice, and you didn’t tell me.

I know I don’t deserve forgiveness, and if you choose not to, I completely understand, but Scotty, I am sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

The next move is yours.

Mitch sniffles and straightens himself. He leans closer to the camera, and Scott can see every blemish, every line on Mitch’s face. He can see how his lips are cracked from chewing on them, and how much darker the bags are under his eyes now he can see them properly. His heart thumps harder against his ribs, and it’s painful. It’s so much more painful seeing his best friend in this state than anything he’s been through the last few months.

It’s up to you what happens next. You can delete this video, and forget it ever happened, and I’ll accept that. Or you can make it public. I don’t want to hide how I feel for you any longer. I’ve wasted so much time by not telling you. I don’t want to lose another second.

What will it be, Scott?

Chapter Text

The video goes black. Scott stares at the screen, stunned at what he’s watched.

Mitch has publicly apologised. Well, not yet; he’s left it up to Scott whether or not it goes public, but either way, he’s done something that is so far outside of his usual comfort zone. Scott knows it wasn’t an easy thing for Mitch to do, but he made it look like it was. Like putting himself out there for Scott was easy to do.

“Fuck,” he whispers, rubbing his hands across his face. He drops back like all the air has rushed out of his body at once and he’s left sitting deflated on the couch.

It all makes so much more sense now. Mitch has had the same fears as Scott all along, and even though he went the wrong way about it entirely, Scott can appreciate just how scary it is to throw yourself out there. To admit that you’ve been in love with somebody who’s been in front of you for years. A person who knows you better than anyone.

There wouldn’t be a ‘getting to know each other’ period. They already know each other’s faults, they already know what makes the other person tick, what they like to do, what they like to eat, whether or not the other person snores when they sleep, or how they laugh. It’s even more terrifying if that’s possible. There’s no room for mistakes. There’s no ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know that about you, but thank you for telling me now’ excuse to fall back on if you mess up.

They already know everything .

Scott reaches over to the laptop, clicking on the link to the ‘Scomiche Moments’ video he watched all those months ago. Watching it now, knowing what he knows, he can see the look in Mitch’s eyes too. Can see the way his friend smiles just that little bit more at him, leans in that much closer when he can. Scott giggles to himself as he replays the video again.

“Scott?”

Scott jumps, having forgotten where he was in the last few minutes, so focused on what was happening on-screen that he forgot he’s sat in Kirstie’s living room, watching on Kirstie’s laptop. He looks over to the doorway to see his friend leaning against the frame.

“Hey Kirst,” he greets, pausing the video on the screen.

“So?” she asks, sitting on the edge of the sofa next to him. She’s wringing her hands in her lap nervously. Scott reaches over and takes them in one of his.

“So, Mitch apologised. On camera. On the Superfruit channel.” Just saying the words makes Scott feel warm. He can feel all the sadness and heartbreak leaving his body until all that’s left is an overwhelming feeling of love and happiness. It’s a lot to take in. He’s spent so much time being depressed, wondering what the hell is going to happen, that the feeling chokes him. Butterflies flutter like crazy in his stomach. He knows what he wants to do, what he needs to do.

“Oh. That’s good?”

Scott chuckles. “It’s really, really good.”

Kirstie smiles happily at him, eyes twinkling with unshed tears. “Then what are you still doing here?” She pushes him off the sofa.

He stands from his seat, running a shaking hand through his messy hair. He turns to Kirstie, biting his bottom lip nervously.

“Can you do please do me one favour when I leave?”

--

Scott silently enters the house, shutting the door softly behind him. He slips his shoes off at the door and ascends the stairs, socked feet slipping on the wood floors. His hand slides along the bannister because of how sweaty his hands are, which gross . When he reaches the top, he’s stopped in his tracks by the sight before him.

The room is a mess. Takeout containers on every surface. What must be every mug, cup and wine glass they own filling the spaces in between. Pillows and Mitch’s down comforter are flung haphazardly on the sofa; tissues litter the floor next to it.

“Oh Mitch,” Scott whispers.

Stepping around the mess, he creeps down the dark hall towards their bedrooms. The door to Mitch’s is wide open, the room beyond in as much disarray as the living room, curtains drawn lazily, one hanging off the rail. Clothes are strewn everywhere. It’s that that makes tears well in his eyes. Mitch’s designer clothes that are usually hung up tidily, so much more taken care of than anything else that Mitch owns (besides Wyatt), scattered across the floor without a second thought.

He gets startled out of his observations by his phone pinging in his pocket. Sliding it out, he puts it on silent before opening up a message from Kirstie.

It’s posted. Good luck. x

Sending back his thanks, Scott watches as his notifications start blowing up. They’re not important, though, not at this present moment in time. He’ll look at people freaking out later, but for now, he puts it away and turns to his door. It’s the only other place Mitch could be…unless he’s not in the house at all. He reaches for the door handle, before stopping himself.

What if Mitch isn’t in here? What does he do then? Does Scott text him? Will Mitch answer? Or will they go back to where they’ve been for the last several months?

Deciding that the only way he’s going to find out is by going in, he takes a deep breath and turns the handle, letting it swing open. Slowly, light from the hallway spreads across the room until it touches every corner.

He steps forward, footsteps quiet against the carpet, so soft that Mitch, who’s lying in the middle of his bed, doesn’t even move. It’s when he’s standing to the side of it that he realises his friend is asleep, curled up into a ball. Mitch looks so small like this; swallowed up in the blankets on Scott’s king-size bed. His face is scrunched up, not finding peace even when he’s sleeping.

Scott’s stomach clenches uncomfortably. Mitch must be exhausted if he’s fallen asleep waiting for Scott to reply. He feels guilty for leaving, for not standing his ground and demanding they talk it out like adults. Scott’s never been one to run away from his problems, choosing to face them head-on, but there’s something about Mitch that makes him want to run for the hills, and at the same time, fight to stand by his side. It’s a paradox, and Mitch is the only person who can make him feel like that.

It's almost like Mitch knows he's here, his eyes fluttering open and widening when he realises Scott's standing there watching him. He’s frozen in place, like a deer caught in headlights, and it would make Scott laugh if it wasn’t for the genuine fear in Mitch’s eyes.

“Hey,” Scott whispers, not daring to disturb the quietness of the room. He sits down on the edge of the bed. He reaches a hand out and rests it lightly on top of the blankets covering Mitch.

“Hi,” Mitch replies. He blinks twice before letting the tension drain from his body, stretching out under the sheets so Scott’s hand slides lower down his body. He makes to get up, but Scott presses firmer against the blankets, halting his movements.

“Hey, hey. Sleep. It’s okay. We can talk when you’ve had some rest. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Mitch mumbles, already succumbing to sleep. He looks much more at ease this time, so Scott feels comfortable leaving him alone. Scott tugs the blankets up higher, leaning forward to press a kiss to Mitch’s forehead. Mitch snuffles in his sleep but doesn’t wake back up.

Scott leaves the room as quietly as he entered it, shutting the door behind him.

--

A couple of hours later, he’s tidied the living room, trashed the food containers and started the dishwasher, anything to keep himself busy, to stop his thoughts rebelling against him. He’s here. Mitch is here. He’s waited for Scott to come home. It’s a good sign. Mitch didn’t bolt as soon as he sent him the video so he must be ready to talk. He must be as willing to fix this as Scott.

Scott’s sat quietly on the sofa, texting with Kirstie when Mitch finally emerges. He’s rubbing his eyes and straightening his shirt, and if it isn’t the cutest thing Scott has ever seen. It set the butterflies off in his stomach again; they’re fluttering up a storm the closer Mitch gets to him.

“Can I?” Mitch asks, indicating the space next to Scott.

Scott nods in response, not trusting that he’ll be able to form words with his heart in his throat.

He timidly sits down next to Scott, keeping a respectable distance between them that makes Scott frown. He gets it. He does. He gets why Mitch is unsure about whether or not he’s allowed to be close to Scott again. But Scott’s spent so long without his best friend right next to him, spent so much time wondering if they’ll ever be able to get back on track that the distance feels like miles. He scoots over until his arm is pressed against Mitch’s. The butterflies settle.

Mitch smiles at him. He doesn’t hold it for long, though; his bottom lip starts to tremble and tears well in his eyes, and that’s all it takes for Scott to put his arm around Mitch and bring him closer, pull him into his side. Mitch puts his arm across Scott’s stomach and nuzzles into his neck.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Scott coos softly, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s forehead before resting his head on top of Mitch’s. “We’ll be okay.”

They sit quietly together for a while. Neither of them make any effort to talk or move. They’re just content with being with each other again, but Scott knows for them to move forward they need to talk it out. To cut through the drama and the bullshit and get back to being them. To being “Scomiche” again; friendship or otherwise. At this moment in time, he’ll take anything.

Scott pulls away. Mitch sniffles as he sits up, wiping at his face in embarrassment. His face is red and his eyes puffy. Tears are still making tracks down his face as fast as he wipes them away. Scott reaches over and rubs softly underneath Mitch’s eyes with his thumbs. He ducks his head shyly before clearing his throat to ask “Did you post it?”

Mitch is a mess of contradictions. The hopeful look in his eyes, but the downturn of his mouth. The way he’s sitting, holding his head up confidently, but he’s wringing his hands in his lap nervously. The way his legs are angled that he can run from the room at a moment's notice, but he’s still pressed up against Scott’s side.

“I did,” Scott replies, keeping his voice calm and steady.

“And?” Mitch’s voice cracks.

Scott takes Mitch’s face in his hands again and leans forward, closing the gap between them. He presses a short, soft kiss on Mitch’s mouth, not even giving him a chance to respond. When Scott pulls away, Mitch presses his lips together. His eyes sparkle, and he purses his lips like he’s trying to fight a grin.

“I love you,” Scott says. “And I don’t want to lose another second either.”

He can see the exact moment Mitch realises what he’s said when his cheeks flame red and his eyes tear up as he tries to hold back his laughter.

“Oh my god. I was so tired when I recorded that.”

“I could tell, baby.” He sighs, taking Mitch’s hand in his. “I’m sorry for walking out like that.”

Mitch shakes his head. “It really wasn’t your fault. None of this has been your fault. It was all me.”

“I’m just as much to blame. If I had been honest from the start…”

“...And if I was honest years ago…Scotty, we can play the blame game for hours, but I’m the one who was avoiding you. I’m the one who hurt you. I’m the one who nearly destroyed us,” Mitch whines. He covers his face with his free hand.

No, this isn’t fixing it. They aren’t getting anywhere by doing this.

Scott gently grabs Mitch’s wrist and pulls his hand from his face. He holds both of Mitch’s hands tightly in his grip, rubbing his thumbs back and forth comfortingly.

“Hey, hey, look. Okay. So you should’ve told me years ago, I should’ve told you when I figured it out, but it doesn’t really matter now. All that matters is where we go from here.”

“Where do we go from here? I’m under no illusion that me posting a video is going to make you magically forgive me.”

“No, you’re right. You hurt me, a lot ,” Scott says. Mitch looks away, but Scott gently takes his chin and turns his head back. He looks into Mitch’s eyes. “But, babe, I love you far too much to ever let anything come between us. We’re a team, we always have been. I can’t live without you. I don’t want to live without you. So if you’ll have me, I’m ready to do this.”

Mitch smiles; smiles so bright Scott feels like he’s looking into the sun. Mitch looks like all his Christmases have come at once, and damn, if Scott isn’t proud of himself for putting that look on his friend’s face.

“I love you too, and I’m absolutely, one-hundred percent ready to do this.”

Scott cups Mitch’s face in his hands. A moment passes as he looks into the soft, brown eyes in front of him. The anticipation is making him dizzy, and his vision blurs to focus on the person in front him. It’s both too slow and too fast as he leans in.

And then he’s kissing Mitch. It isn’t one for the camera; it isn’t for anyone but them. Mitch’s lips move against his like they were made to be kissed by him. Scott can feel Mitch’s hands slide up his back, one coming to rest on the back of his neck, the other tangling in his hair. His heart starts to race and the blood racing around his body sings.

Scott feels Mitch open his mouth, and he deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue across Mitch’s bottom lip before biting down gently - something he’s wanted to do for months. He feels Mitch’s breath hitch and his body shiver against him and it makes him smile smugly against the mouth attached to his.

Mitch pulls away with a huff. “Stop smiling and kiss me, goddammit.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it,” Scott says, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Mitch’s. He takes a deep breath, hoping it will calm his racing heart. When he feels Mitch pull away he opens his eyes. Mitch is gazing at him, face soft and smile steady. Scott feels himself go cross-eyed at how close they still are.

Scott makes a decision. “Come with me a second?” He doesn’t give Mitch a chance to reply, instead, lacing his fingers through Mitch’s and pulling him up from the sofa. He tugs him back to his room, laughing at the sultry look that Mitch gives him. “Haha. No. Not for that .”

Mitch pouts, but Scott can tell he doesn’t mean it badly. Mitch still looks exhausted and Scott knows he doesn’t look any better. After the excitement of the last few days, he can feel himself fading fast. Maybe he’ll try and convince Mitch to join him for a nap later.

When they get to his room, Scott sits Mitch down on the edge of his bed. He goes to open the curtains, letting the late evening sunlight flood the room. The sky is painted pink and orange, and it’s so beautiful, but nowhere near as beautiful as the goddess in the room with him, so he turns away and walks over to his closet.

Crouching down he rummages through the boxes on the floor. Where the hell is it?

“Erm, Scotty?” Mitch calls from behind him.

“Just a second,” Scott replies, grunting as he moves stuff around. “I could’ve sworn…”

“Scott. Scott!”

He finally stops his search and turns around, freezing when he sees Mitch sitting on the floor in front of his bed, a familiar wooden box in front of him. The lid is open and Scott winces as he thinks about the endless teasing Mitch is about to dish out. The flower, the tickets, everything is laid out in front of them, and it’s not like Scott can put it down to being a kid wanting to save his favourite memories. Scott can make out the Beyonce tickets peeking out from when they saw her a couple of years ago.

He can feel his cheeks heating up, feel the sweat prickling across his forehead.

Scott wants the ground to swallow him up when he sees the Cartier necklace sitting on the top, ‘ Mitch x ’ written on the tag, visible even from the distance away he is.

Mitch quirks an eyebrow at him. He’s obviously noticed Scott’s reaction.

“Wanna explain this to me?” He sounds amused rather than curious, and Scott feels his face get even redder, if it was possible. Mitch picks up the small box, turning it over. It rattles quietly in his hands.

Scott crawls over until he’s sat in front of Mitch, crossing his legs and settling in for an uncomfortable conversation.  He scrubs at his face, pulling his bottom lip down until he’s fairly sure it’s unattractive. Mitch giggles.

“Okay,” he huffs, “Okay, so, I bought you a third present for your birthday.”

“Oh.” The smile that was on Mitch’s face drops.

“Yeah. I was going to give it to you after I told you the truth…”

“...and then I stood you up,” Mitch finishes for him. He gently puts the present back where he found it, closing the wooden box and sliding it over to Scott. “Why didn’t you return it?”

“I was hoping that one day I’d still be able to give it to you.” Scott pulls the box towards him and opens it back up. He goes to pick the necklace up, but Mitch stops him with a hand on his knee.

“No. Not yet.”

“Why?” Scott asks. “I bought it for you.”

“I don’t deserve it yet.”

Scott smiles softly at his friend. “Mitch…?”

“No! I hurt you. I broke your heart. I don’t deserve it. I don’t even deserve you giving me the time of day, but I will. I will earn your forgiveness and every bit of your love.” Mitch closes the box and pushes it to the side. He crawls closer to Scott. Scott straightens his legs out in front of him, and Mitch straddles him, resting his weight on top of Scott’s thighs. Scott’s hands rest on his waist and Mitch cups Scott’s face in his hands. “And only then will you give it to me.”

“Okay,” Scott concedes. He doesn’t agree but if this is what Mitch wants. “Okay.”

“Now, shut up and kiss me.”

Chapter Text

One year later…

Scott is nervous.

This isn’t the nervous he was before Mitch’s birthday date that didn’t happen (wow, that was a long time ago now). This is a ‘I think I’m going to throw up or pass out or die’ kind of nervous and he really can’t afford to do either of those because he’s due on stage in ten minutes.

Nicole has already had to redo his make up twice and she gave up on his hair a long time ago. “You can work the messy look tonight,” she’d said when he turned up at Kirstie’s dressing room door, face pale and bottom lip bitten sore. But she had pulled him into a tight hug and told him to relax.

That was easier said than done, though. She probably thought he was nervous about it being the last show of the tour. Normally she wouldn’t be wrong, but he’s not even thinking about that right now. He’s thinking about the person who’s just walked into the room, bright smile on his face as he looks at his phone.

“Hey, babe,” Mitch greets him, kissing him chastely before flopping onto the sofa in their shared dressing room. “Have you seen what the kids have been tweeting today?”

“No.” Scott stands from his seat in front of the mirror and sits next to Mitch so he’s pressed up against the his side. He rests his head on Mitch’s shoulder so he can see what he’s reading. There are a lot of ‘congrats on your 1 year anniversary’ tweets, more of screaming and crying and general loveliness from people. It makes him feel warm and happy. He’s fairly certain his cheeks are going to ache from how much smiling he’s doing.

And then Scott remembers what he’s got planned for tonight and the nerves come back. They twist his insides, leaving him gasping for breath and trying his hardest to hide how he’s feeling from Mitch (he thinks he’s successful, Mitch would’ve said something by now). A cold sweat prickles the back of his neck and he’s up and off the sofa before Mitch realises.

“I’m just going to… uh, yeah.” Scott presses a quick kiss to Mitch’s cheek before he practically runs from the room. He hears Mitch yell “wait!” but he’s gone and running down the corridor before the door even closes behind him.

As Scott turns the corner, he runs straight into Esther, nearly knocking her down. He catches her in his hands, but when she looks up at him, he can see the concern on her face. She places a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay, hun? Need me to do anything? Should I get Mitch?” she gestures over his shoulder with her free hand and makes to step around him, but Scott stops her and pulls her back in front of him.

“No, not Mitch!” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m fine.”

“Scott. I’m not stupid.” Esther quirks her eyebrow at him, and it makes Scott squirm. “Will you tell me what’s wrong? I know when you’re nervous before a show and this isn’t that.”

Scott sighs. He loves Esther, but he wishes she wasn’t so observant sometimes. Maybe she can help him though. He needs someone on his side and it’s killing him not to tell someone what he’s got planned.

“Okay. Come with me.” Scott takes her hand and tugs her back along the corridor, trying to find somewhere quiet where they won’t be disturbed. He pulls open random doors until he finds an empty room and pulls her inside. “Okay, so…”

--

“Is everyone having a good time?” Avi says into his microphone, low voice making Scott’s chest vibrate. Scott is sat on the steps off to the side, drinking from a bottle of water. He grins when the crowd responds enthusiastically. “Good, good, because I don’t know about the rest of the band, but I am having a great time. Thank you so much for coming to our shows and hanging out with us.”

Scott pulls his gaze away from the crowd and looks across the stage at Mitch, who is smiling and attempting to converse with a few of the people in the front row. He can see how bright his smile is from here, and Scott feels his face soften when Mitch holds his hands up in front of his chest, forming a heart with them.

God, he needs to stop with the heart-eyes thing. Scott can feel it on his face now that he knows what it is. He sneaks a peek out of the corner of his eye at the crowd by him, and he sees a few people looking at him knowingly. He winks at them and stands from the steps, making his way to the centre of the stage.

“What’s next?” Kirstie asks, bumping her hip into Scott’s as they stop next to each other.

“How about a bit of ‘Daft Punk’?” Scott responds, getting into formation with the rest of the group. His hand brushes Mitch’s as they pass and he can’t stop the blush forming on his cheeks.

Mitch giggles into his microphone. He blows him a kiss before launching into the song.

--

They’re in between the last song and the encore of the night and Scott is starting to freak out. Well, he’s been freaking out all day, but he’s reached another level entirely in the last five minutes. There are people running around, drinking bottles of water and getting their makeup retouched, pushing in-ears back in and Scott can’t see anything he’s that dizzy with nerves.

He shouldn’t be. He knows he shouldn't be. It’s Mitch! The love of his life, the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, but it feels like there are pterodactyls in his stomach rather than butterflies. He’s so hot he feels like he’s going to faint. The ring is burning a hole in his pocket and it feels like it’s too heavy, like there’s a chunk of granite in there instead of a diamond resting on a delicate band of titanium that he really hopes Mitch will like.

Mitch looks over at him, and his gaze goes from loving to concerned. He starts to walk over, and Scott has no idea how he’s going to stop himself from spilling his guts. He’s saved by Kirstie shepherding Mitch back up the stairs to the side of the stage, ready to go back on for the last two songs of the night, and he breathes a sigh of relief that his plan hasn’t been ruined.

When Scott turns around, Esther is there, patting him on the shoulder reassuringly, and whispering words of encouragement, though, Scott is having to make do with lip-reading because he can’t hear her over the roaring in his ears. And then, she’s pushing him towards the stairs. Kevin launches into ‘Problem’ and he’s pushed back on stage none too gently.

The lights are bright and burning and he’s running on autopilot by this point. He’s thankful that he could do this show in his sleep. They transition into ‘Sing’ and he’s on the catwalk with Mitch and Kirstie when the confetti cannons go off and the moment is here.

Scott grabs Mitch’s hand in his own after they bow, ignoring the look of confusion on his boyfriend’s face when Mitch goes to walk away and can’t go anywhere because Scott is pulling him back. Kirstie, Avi and Kevin are hovering somewhere in the periphery of Scott’s vision, but he’s so focused on the love of his life standing in front of him that everything blurs until they are the only people in the arena.

Looking at Mitch, he realises that he has nothing to be nervous about. He’s everything to Scott; best friend, partner in crime, soulmate . They’ve been through everything and more together; hurt each other and forgiven each other, loved each other so hard that Scott still gets overwhelmed by it. They’ve been friends for over half their lives and the past year has been everything Scott imagined it to be and more.

Mitch’s eyes sparkle as he looks back at Scott, smirk on his lips.

And without having even asked yet, Scott knows exactly what the answer will be.