I'm Sorry (Sequel to "No Feeling")

Chapter 9

Scott POV

I watched Mitch slowly munch his breakfast bowl. It was some healthy breakfast quinoa thing. It was so different from the Mitch Grassi I knew that used to eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

He looked up, catching me staring. He blushed slightly and looked back down again. 

I frowned; he was still slightly shaken from the incident.

I cleared my throat, "Um, are y-you okay now?" I asked stammering.

He glanced up at me and a funny look came over his face. "Fine," he said in a cool tone. He went back to eating. 

I was taken aback by that response to make Mitch so cold all of a sudden? We were making progress. For a few minutes, he trusted me without question, and now this?

A long stretch of silence followed. 

Suddenly, Mitch looked up to me. He gasped, as if he'd forgotten I was there. 

"S-Scott?" He asked in disbelief, his eyes roaming around the room. "W-what are you doing here?"

What did he mean 'what was I doing here'? 

"We're having breakfast, Mitch," I said gently, confused and slightly scared of the current situation.

He paled, shaking his head frantically. "No! I- You- You left! And you didn't come back!" He took on the persona of a 5 year old. "You left, you left, you left!" He yelled.

He got up as if to run away, and collapsed, heaving on the ground.

I sprang up immediately, crouching next to him, placing my hands on his shoulders gently.

"Mitch?" No response. "Mitchell?" I shook him once, and his eyes flew open. 

The familiar warm, brown orbs stared at me. They were hollow and cool, distant. I don't know how I didn't see.

"Mitch, talk to me. I know you're in there," I said desperately, trying to coax something, anything out of him.

Finally, his eyes came to focus on my face, followed by an expression of downright confusion.

"Um... Wh-who are you?" He asked timidly, shying away from my touch on his shoulders.

I stopped cold, "Mitch, I'm Scott. Are you okay?"

Slowly, his eyes showed recognition at my name. "Oh, the collaboration and breakfast and-" his face paled.

"-Mitch?" I asked worriedly.

"Scott, I-" He slumped back onto the floor. 

My heart dropped.

"Mitch? Mitch!" I yelled, scrambling for my phone.

With shaking hands, I dialed 911.

"911. What is your emergency?" Inquired a clear, feminine voice. 

"U-um, m-my friend collapsed, um, he's not answering me, and he's not moving!"

"Okay, sir. Do you mind telling me your address?"

I huffed, running my hands through my hair, momentarily forgetting where I was. My mind floated back to my previous conversations with Mitch.

"Um, we're at the London West Hollywood, room 914." I managed to spit out. "Please hurry!"

"Alright, sir. An ambulance will be there in 2 minutes. Hold on, sir." She said. Hurriedly, I muttered a 'thank you' and hung up the phone.

I slid my index and middle finger down Mitch's jaw to his throat, where I searched for a pulse.

It took a while, but it was there, albeit faint.

Grasping Mitch's hand, I squeezed it. "Please Mitch, please hold on. I just got you back, Mitch. I-I need you to hold on. For Marleah. For Kevin. For me. Please?"

I whispered sweet nothings into his ear, trying to hold myself together but failing miserably. 

I desperately wanted to move him to the bed, but I was scared to death to move him even the slightest.

I sighed impatiently, staring at the clock. It had only been a minute since I hung up. 

Running a hand through my hair, the other one clasping Mitch's hands, I blew out a puff of air. I wanted to tell Mitch everything.

"Mitch," I started to the ashen face. "Mitch, I love you. You don't think you've known me that long, but you've known me almost my whole life. 

"Your Junior year, I asked you to be my boyfriend, but I was absolutely awful to you. I'm so sorry. But, after I moved, I got married, but throughout the whole thing, the only one I ever thought about was you.

"I couldn't sleep at night knowing what I put you through, knowing I never made it right. But, I'm here now, and I just need you to stay with me, okay? Please, please stay with me," I begged fervently.

I was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.

"EMTs!" A loud, masculine voice shouted.

I rushed to the door, pulling it open for the uniformed men. Gently, they placed Mitch on a stretcher and wheeled him away.

I dashed after them, following the ambulance in my car.

When we reached the hospital, I sat in my car, watching as they wheeled him into the E.R.

Quickly, I got out, pulling out my phone. There were calls I needed to make.