The Real Scömìche

Scott

I squeezed Kirst as tightly as I could without hurting her.

"It'll be okay. It'll be okay..." She whispered into my shirt, comforting even the worst of nerves I felt. I smiled down at her blonde head and gently pulled away from her embrace.

"Thanks, Kit." I said to her, quietly. "You always know what to say..."

"Oh, stop," She grinned up at me in mock modesty. I laughed.

"Love you, babes." I said, giving her a quick hug. She mumbled something into my arm, squeezing my torso tightly for a moment.

"Stephanie, where's my-" Mitch called, wandering into the kitchen, stopping when he saw my serious expression.

"Uh, Mitch," I patted the space next to me. "Sit down."

"What's up, Scotlandia?" He half joked, faltering as I didn't even smile. "Scott, if you're breaking up with me just say it, cause I don't think I could deal with it being dragged out."

"What? No, of course I'm not breaking up with you, babe." He sighed in relief, straightening his fringe.

"Good." He bit his lip. "So? What's wrong, Skeet?"

"Uh, well, okay. There's no easy way to say this, but, uh-"

"Spit it out, Scooter." I took a deep breath.

"Okay, Mum is... She, she has cancer." He breathed in very deeply, trying to keep it steady, but I could already see that his beautiful eyes had clouded over with tears. I bit the inside of my cheeks, willing my own eyes not to spill, but I was too late. A single, fat tear rolled down my cheek, matching the one running down my boyfriend's face.

"Did-did you t-tell Kirst yet?" Mitch said shakily, wringing his hands. I placed my hands on his, keeping them still to make sure he was calm and nodded.

"Before she left earlier." Mitch bit his lip and nodded.

"Okay. Good. She...deserves to...to know." I grimaced at him.

"Look, take some time," I said to him. "It's no good us just crying, she wouldn't want that. And besides, she's, she's not actually gone..."

Yet.