To Love (Mpreg, Scömíche)

Chapter 3

Four weeks since I was taken into the Carrier Clinic.

Four weeks since my diagnoses of an infection and RTD.

Three weeks since coming home.

Two weeks since returning to work.

One week since the infection has been cleared from my system.

Yet, nothing feels the same. Scott and I don't go out anymore, after work we come home, order take out and watch TV. This isn't Scott's doing either, it's mine. He always asks me if I want to go to a new club, or go have breakfast with friends, but my answer is always no. He is always disappointed, but accepts it. He just settles down beside me on the couch and chooses something on Netflix.

We don't talk about it, because I keep pushing it off. I don't want to talk about it, even though I know I have to. I can feel my old insecurities starting to nibble away at me, my anxiety tearing at me, and depression pulling me down. I don't say anything to Scott, not wanting him to worry, for he always does when I get like this, for he also knows that he's the only one that could ever get me to open up.

"We should go out tonight. It's been ages, and Tyler has invited us to a party he is hosting tonight. It's going to be full of YouTubers we know, and it will give us something else to do other than work and laze around here," Scott pleads leaping onto my bed, and cuddling up against me as I scroll through my favorite shopping web site aimlessly after a day of rehearsals.

"If you want to go, then go. I don't know if I'm ready to head out yet," I reply not bothering to look up at him from the screen.

"Come on, it's been four weeks. A week since the infection has officially been kicked out of your system, and you're not on a Transition right now, so why not go out and have some fun? Plus, Dr. Moore said that it's important that you don't lock yourself away. She said to continue doing what you normally do. Just because you have RTD now doesn't mean you should stop living," he argues as he kisses my side lightly.

"I know what Dr. Moore said, but I'm still not going," I snap making him groan.

"Alright, I tried being nice," he sits up and grabs my laptop from me closing the screen before placing it on my nightstand. He settles back down in front of me his long legs crossed beneath him and eyes focused on me as his hands rest gently on my knees, "Talk to me. What's going through your head."

"That I want my laptop back," I snap trying to move around him to grab it, but he snatches me easily holds me in place by grabbing my shoulders. He leans in so that our foreheads are touching, his blue eyes shining into mine.

"Come on, drop the sassy wall, let me see what's hidden beneath. I know something is wrong, you're not you. You're moping around the house, the smiles you give are fake as hell, and I know you're not replying to the texts you're getting from friends. Todrick texted me yesterday asking if you were okay, or if he did something to piss you off. Esther pulled me aside today at rehearsals wanting to know if you were doing okay, because you were so quiet. Come on, Mitchie, you're worrying everybody here. Talk to me," he pleads rubbing our noses together as he rubs my arms.

"I don't mean to worry everybody, I'm doing okay really. I just...I'm struggling to adjust. I feel vulnerable and insecure, Scott. It's like when I first found out I was a Carrier all over again. I could be on stage and be hit with a Transition, what if I throw up or pass out? What if something happens when we're around friends that don't know? When I go to parties how will I explain that I can no longer drink? What if something happens in front of the wrong person, and they put it together and try to hurt me? I just...It feels like I have no control. At any time I could be hit with a Transition, maybe it will be just a headache and some cramping, but it would still happen. I just....I wish I was normal. Hell even in the Carrier world I'm weird with stupid RTD. Maybe, Jessa was right, maybe it would be better if I weren't a Carrier at all. I mean the group wouldn't have to worry about losing me for a show if I'm suddenly hit with a bad Transition, you guys wouldn't have to worry about helping me hide my secret, you wouldn't feel so protective of me, I wouldn't be such a burden or freak..." I babble as tears run down my cheeks and sobs start to shake me. I have more to say, but now I'm crying so hard that I can't even breathe properly let alone continue speaking.