The Pact (Scömìche)(completed)

5 The impossible

Scott walked around with Esther, excitedly pointing out all the things they'd planned over the past six months. He showed her the photo booth, the mobile cocktail bar with uniformed mixologist, the photographer, the catering set-up and lighting. She cooed over everything, and he felt absurdly proud of himself.

"See, I told you. It's absolutely fantastic, and you did it all. Now, I see Mario and Candice over there, so go mingle, be the perfect host."

"Okay mom, see you later." Scott squeezed her hand and returned to circulating and checking everyone had enough to eat and drink. He had a brief meeting with the catering manager, deciding when to bring out desserts. The quiet efficiency of the waiting staff impressed him. His kitchen was made for events like this, not endless take out and salads for one.

Once the grilling was done, staff brought out fresh fruit, pavlovas, chocolate cakes and chocolate dipped strawberries and other things Scott didn't recognise, but he supposed Esther had ordered. The music grew quieter, and then almost inaudible. With a frown, Scott went over to the DJ. It had all been going so well.

"What's happening, is there a problem?"

The DJ shrugged. "Sorry, somebody made a request and I'm having trouble locating it."

"Well hurry it up, can't you play something else while you look?"

"I guess I could," the DJ said. "But I think they're gonna play for you instead."

Scott whipped around, following the DJ's glance.

Under a flaming torch, four microphones waited. The guests fell silent as Kevin, Avi, Kirstie and Mario took their places. Esther appeared and led Scott to the front of the crowd. He clamped his other hand over his mouth as Esther put one arm around his waist, and then signalled to the singers.

They began with a couple of throwbacks to the Sing Off days, then transitioned into a medley of Pentatonix hits that had people singing along. Next came Beloved from Avi's latest album Silence and Stars, and Time to go, a song that Scott had written for Kirstie's Broadway debut. They moved on to Hold up the sun and Carry me home from Scott's first solo album. The crowd listened with rapt attention.

Scott was transfixed. Tears ran down his cheeks, and Esther produced a white linen handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it into his hand. He had known his heart couldn't take it, and he gladly accepted this gift of joy. He didn't deserve it, and he couldn't ask for more.

The crowd burst into applause, whooping and cheering, until Avi held up his hand for quiet. His deep, mellifluous tones rolled around Scott's ears.

"Before we sing happy birthday to this old man over here," he paused for the laughter to die down, "we have one more song. For old times' sake. Scott, this is for you, with all our love."

Scott sniffed and dried his eyes. What more could they have up their sleeves? He barely noticed Esther leave his side, he was so focused on the singers. Avi gave them their note, Kevin laid down a beat, and the song began. Wait, was that Nature Boy? And then, the impossible happened.

Another voice joined them. Pure, crystalline, ethereal, it floated over the other voices, layering diamonds over golden a cappella harmonies. If Scott had been speechless before, now he felt as though he was going to collapse. His stomach clenched, his knees wavered, and when a chair appeared behind him he dropped onto it. He couldn't stop shaking, both hands over his mouth to keep himself from screaming. Esther stood behind him, her hands warm and steady on his shoulders. Scott was rooted to the spot, breaking into pieces, exploding into a million shards and floating away. He couldn't see him, and yet somehow... but it had to be a trick, a recorded track. Mitch wasn't there, he couldn't be.

Mitch appeared from behind the photo booth with a radio mike. He walked towards the others, singing that beautiful, terrible song, his voice lifting Scott and killing him at the same time.

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return."

Time slowed and Scott watched Mitch sing and smile. How could this be? Mitch wore an open-necked white shirt with extravagant cuffs and glittering cufflinks. It hugged his trim frame and was tucked into high-waisted, wide black trousers billowing down to silver boots. Scott could see the tattoos on his hands, and the numerous chunky silver rings that adorned his slender fingers. And his hair was short, and Scott didn't know what to do except watch. He stared at Mitch when the song ended to rapturous applause, and saw his mouth curve into a little smile as he looked directly at him.

The caterers brought out a huge, three layered cake with forty candles on top, and placed it on a table in front of Scott. A tear trickled down his cheek; he didn't wipe it away. His friends sang happy birthday, and it was beautiful, and he didn't know what to do. The song ended, and Esther whispered in his ear.

"Make a wish."

Scott sat, suspended in a bubble. Everyone else receded from view. Nothing else mattered. There was only the cake, the candles, and Mitch. He didn't know what to do. The candles burned bright, but all he saw was Mitch. Nothing else was as hot, as brilliant, or as dangerous.