Scent of Love (Scomiche fanfiction)

Selfish for the night

A/N

Just to warn you, this is NSFW, but not too explicit, either. Proceed with caution:)

Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat. In, out. Again.

"Scott!"

One-two, one-two. Calm down. He's there, you made it.

"Scott! Please, wait up!"

He heard him, Mitch was positive he did. And yet, he wasn't turning around like he was supposed to, wasn't dropping everything and rushing over to where Mitch was standing awkwardly beneath the departures board, bent in half, hands on his knees and panting.

His movements ceased altogether, though. He froze upon hearing Mitch's voice and, to his own bewilderment, the boy discovered it was enough of an encouragement for him to take another deep breath and shout at the top of his lungs, "Final call for the passenger Scott Hoying! Get your ass over here right now!"

The man still had his back turned to him but his head tilted slightly to the side, enough for Mitch to catch a fleeting glimpse of a half-smile that spread briefly across his lips. Mitch was suddenly very aware of his heart pounding against his ribs, but whether it was from all the running he had done or that hope-inducing smile, he wasn't sure.

Straightening up, he bit his lip as he allowed himself to observe Scott's internal struggle. He watched him run his hand through his hair and shuffle his feet almost as if he was in a hurry. He saw him falter when the security guard pointed at his watch and belt, probably telling him to take them off before he would be allowed to proceed through the security gate. Finally, he watched as the blonde reached up to unbuckle his belt, fingers tugging clumsily at the leather. Before he managed to pull the belt out of the loops though, his hands came to a halt. A few seconds passed and instead of tugging at the belt to take it off, he was buckling it again. Ignoring the security guard's questioning look, he reached out for his phone and tablet that he had already managed to take out of his backpack, and tossed them back inside.

Mitch saw his lips close around two syllables of what he assumed was a word of apology for the commotion he had caused, and soon he was turning to face him, eyes narrowed and expression unreadable. He couldn't help but swallow, hard. What was he going to tell him? Why did he even come here?

"What?" Scott simply asked, and suddenly Mitch realized the man was already standing right in front of him. His backpack started to slide down his upper arm after he had flung it rather hurriedly over his shoulder and for some reason, Mitch kept his eyes fixed on the backpack strap, hugging the man's bicep.

Scott cleared his throat, wordlessly demanding an answer, but all Mitch could do was raise his shoulders slightly and let them sag not long after.

"I'm in a little bit of a hurry, in case you didn't notice," Scott said flatly. "I hope you didn't make a scene just to give me that indifferent shrug."

Mitch had to make a conscious effort to tear his eyes away from the distraction that was Scott's dangling backpack, and focus. Why did he tell Scott to wait? What was he trying to accomplish?

"Alright then. Let me rephrase the question." Scott pulled at the strap of his backpack, readjusting it on his shoulder. "Why did you come here?"

"I don't know."

He might have sounded aloof or even indifferent, but all he did was tell the truth. He had come here on impulse, definitely hadn't thought it through. Had he done that, he would have probably stayed at home and, quite possibly, regretted it for the rest of his life.