Memory [Scomiche]

Ch. 1

"Get. Off. Of. Me." Mitch growled. "No." Scott persisted, choking on his tears. "I'm sorry. You have to take your medication."

"I hate it!" He screamed, his bellowing turning into sobs. "I know." Scott soothed, placing his hand on Mitch's thigh.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie. They've been putting you through hell with this medication, and it doesn't even help. But we can't give up."

"We?" Mitch glared.

"Yes." Scott said firmly. "I am with you in this Mitchy, and I will be until you can remember what time it is."

"W-who's Mitchy? Since when do you call me that?" Scott sighed. "Since forever, lovely."

"Oh. Really?" "Yep." Scott nodded.

Mitch groaned in exhaustion, and threw back his head. "Why'd it have to happen to me, Sandra?"

Scott didn't bother to correct him, he'd grown used to the nickname. "I know, I know, It's so unfair baby."

"You know," Mitch started, wiping his eyes. "Of all the people with- whatever I have, only five percent get symptoms before sixty five."

Scott grabbed his hand, trying to push away his thoughts.

He can remember that, but not my name.

"It's called Alzheimer's, Mitchy. But yes, it's horrible." Mitch made an attempt to sit up, but fell back with a groan.

"You promise it's better than last time?" "Pinky swear." Scott reached out his finger, and Mitch's reluctantly wrapped his own around it.

Scott took the bottle of medication, and pulled out three.

"Look, see?" Mitch gazed at the pills with a look of disgust. "They're all weird looking." Scott couldn't help but giggle.

"Yeah, they are. But isn't yellow your favorite color?" Mitch stuck his nose up in the air. "Pretty yellow. Not that disgusting rat dung."

Scott took the water bottle from the counter and handed it to Mitch, along with the three tablets.

Mitch swallowed the first.

Then the second.

Then pretended to take the third.

Mitch gave him an innocent look, and Scott grinned. He enjoyed these few moments where Mitch was himself. Before he turned thirty seven.

"C'mon." Scott picked up the admittedly feces smelling pill from the carpet from where Mitch threw it. Mitch rolled his eyes and pushed the pill in the back of his throat, swallowing hard.

Almost immediately, there was a sound from the door. Mitch squealed with fear.

Scott looked down, thinking of a time when he could watch horror movies with Mitch. His paranoia had gotten worse the past few months.

"Don't worry." Scott softly grabbed his hand, and guided Mitch to the door. "Who is it?" Scott called.

"Your favorite straight girl!" Kirstie sounded cheerily. Scott smiled, but his face fell when Mitch whispered in his ear.

"Who's that?"

"She has the doggie, remember?" Scott said hopefully. Mitch slowly nodded.

"Oh, yeah. The Obama one." "Olaf, but close. You're doing well." He encouraged. Mitch's lips formed a tiny smile.

Scott swung the door open, having to look down to get a clear view of Kirstie. She was incredibly short, as even Mitch was taller than her.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging Scott tightly.