Never Enough Until You ( Scomiche )

Journey Completed

A/N: HELLO HELLO THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER AND IT'S MORE THAN 8000 WORDS OF SHIT AND SMUT THIS IS NOT A DRILL HAVE A SNACK AND WATER BY PENTATONIX

Not a lot of things to say.. well yes, but I'll see you at the end LOL 5am ONCE AGAIN, I'm still buzzing from the album, Scott's reply to me, and the whole studying time that has started again. A little trivia for y'all, I thought you might find it funny: I used the words cock and dick 198 times during this story. Truly a clean story, am I right?

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The first thing that sets in is fear. Sheer, irrational fear. Of saying something wrong, of doing another mistake. Of stumbling on my own feet and crashing over everything that ever meant something to me.

The feeling is so overwhelming that I let it consume me for what seems like forever. I call in sick from work and I stay in my apartment for three days, not feeling like talking to anyone, just thinking and thinking. My phone lays abandoned next to me, soon running out of charge without me even noticing. It's not like I care that much. No one calls.

Mitch doesn't call.

The fourth day there's a knock on my door, and I wish I could lie and say that my heart doesn't skip a beat as I run to open it, butterflies flying in my stomach as I wonder what will be the first thing that will come out of Mitch's mouth - absolutely sure that he's at the door, tired of missing me how much I've missed him, ready to fix whatever is broken between us.

Lauren is at the door, food bags in her hands. She barges in like she owns the place, assailing me with questions about my health, about Mitch, about too many things that I really don't want to talk about - but I let her in anyway, pretending to listen when in reality I'm just swallowing down the lump in my throat.

By the end of day five I'm standing in front of Mitch's door, one fist raised, ready to knock any second, but not finding the courage to do so. The fact is that I have no idea what the fuck I should tell him. He said that I had to figure out what I wanted, but how am I supposed to do it? I just want him. I want this weight between us gone, I want everything to go back to how it was. Is that so hard? Is it wrong from me to hope so?

I stand still in front of the wooden door for what feels like forever, before going back to my place. I can't just show up and demand to talk to him without a plan, this wouldn't work with him. I need to think clearly before trying to fix this mess between us - because if I don't, I might lose him. And I'm not going to take that risk.

It takes another three days to gather enough strength to dial his number - too afraid of saying the wrong thing, or getting distracted by the happiness of seeing him again to risk going over his place. Phone calls make me anxious as fuck, but it's better than facing my problem. I fidget with the blanket I'm wrapped in as I wait for him to pick up the call. Ring after ring my heartbeat increases, and the fear that maybe he's not going to answer begins to make its way into my brain.

The sigh of relief that leaves my mouth as I hear his hesitant, 'yeah?' is loud enough that I'm sure he heard it, but I couldn't care less. He answered the phone. Suddenly the clouded sky seems much more brighter.

'Mitch. Hi.' I awkwardly say, realizing that every single thought that I had in my mind is now gone, replaced by the swirl of butterflies in my stomach - all of this because I'm hearing his voice after eight days. Eight long days without a word between us, this is a new low. 'Uh..'

Wow Scott. You spent days trying to find the perfect way to start a conversation and fix this mess and this is the best you can come up with?

'Speak. And make it worth it.'