When the Music Stopped

Part 1

No matter where Scott and Mitch were, music had a constant presence in their lives.

Naturally, it followed them when they uprooted their entire lives to chase their dreams. The first thing they did when they pushed open the door to that very first barren apartment in the heart of LA was dig out Scott's bluetooth speaker from the mess of boxes and turn it up loud. Everything from Beyonce to the greatest 90s jams echoed off the walls of the tiny apartment as they helped each other unpack their belongings and settle in. After that, anytime they moved somewhere new they upheld this tradition, so much so that Scott didn't even bother packing his little speaker in a box anymore. Having their furniture and personal artifacts made the unfamiliar places livable, but it was the music that made the place seem like home.

Both being very creative beings, music also fueled their inspired headspaces. They both believed that the quality of their work is a result of their environment, and music was a vital piece to that. When they worked on plans for new Superfruit videos, Mitch like to play ambient electronic soundscapes. He could get lost in his creative headspace with the noise rolling in the background and let the inspiration flow. Likewise, Scott had a favorite genre for his creative headspace, but he drifted more towards soul and R&B. The powerful vocals would resonate in his chest, and he would use that energy to power through the day. The music they listened to was always a good reflection of what was going on in their own unique minds.

Of course, music was also the very foundation of their careers so it stands to reason they would be engrossed in it professionally as well. It was wasn't uncommon for wisps of lyrics to float through the doorways of their respective rooms as they tried out different variations. The tinkling of piano keys would flutter in new melodies and heads would bow together over a computer as they worked out complex harmonies in their score writing software. When the whole group would gather in their home, the space would simply come alive with the powerful music.

Music played during the lows of their lives. The time they were dropped from their label, they drowned out the doubt in their own minds with upbeat anthems. They studied iconic artists and went into creative overdrive to salvage their situation. It was the steady tempo thrumming through their ears that helped them stay calm and get inspired during a scary and uncertain time.

It also played when they celebrated the highs. The time their album went number one on the billboards they cranked it through the sound system in the house. They laughed and sang and dance obnoxiously to their own songs until neither had a voice left and both collapsed on the couch in euphoric satisfaction. It was this music that marked the moment they truly made it.

Even in the quiet moments between the big stuff, the music played on. It was heard in the quiet humming as Mitch wandered down the hall towards his room. It came in Scott's random outbursts of choruses as he moved around the kitchen making lunch. It came in the tapping of fingers and mindless humming as they sat at the counter. It came in the ease of their harmonies as they belted Broadway show tunes for their lives. No matter where they were, it seemed that the music would follow.

Until it didn't.

The day Scott was diagnosed was the second worst day of Mitch's life. When he heard the news he'd all but shut down. Thankfully someone else had been there to pay attention to all of the important details because Mitch's brain was struggling to catch up with the whirlwind of phrases like inoperable brain tumor and grim prognosis and worst of all: 6 month life expectancy.

Scott had been shockingly stoic through the team of doctors' entire briefing. He listened carefully to his options and asked for a day or two to think about it and talk to his family. Only when they returned to their home did his facade crumble. He sobbed as he lay on the couch, head in Mitch's lap. Mitch sat quietly, too numb and exhausted to do much else besides card his fingers through Scott's hair and murmur comforting words more to himself than anything. Hours later, when neither boy had anymore tears to shed, Scott's hoarse voice broke through the rare quiet. "Mitchy, you know I love you so much, but I don't think I want treatment."

"But Scooter..." Mitch trailed off meekly. He thought that for a brief moment he could argue with Scott. He was young and if Mitch could convince him to get treatment they could have a few extra months together. But Mitch quickly realised his efforts would be futile. Those extra few months, and even the ones they were already promised, would be miserable for Scott if he got treatment. This was Mitch's strong, ambitious, larger than life Scott. He knew Scott would rather have 1 month of experiencing the remainder of his life to the fullest than a whole year of doctor's appointments and treatments. If this is what Scott wanted, Mitch was damn well going to make sure he was here for whatever little time they had left. So he gave up the argument before he even started.

"Okay. Okay. If that's what you want, then I will be here for you."

The music didn't stop all at once, but rather, it slowly fell quieter in the most melancholy decrescendo anyone had ever experienced.

After all the necessary announcements had been arranged and all their friends and family members had been hugged, they tried to keep things as normal as possible. Mitch aquicised when Scott asked to play Beyonce on the weekends simply because it could bring a rare smile to the blonde's face. For the first few months they could even sing and dance like old times without the inevitable hanging over their heads.

And then the migraines began.

Much to both of their dismay, they discovered that with the migraines came an intense sensitivity to noise and light that was borderline debilitating. It took a little experimenting and a ton of patience on both of their parts, but eventually they found that if they played a select handful of pastoral classical pieces on a low level it was tolerable. Once they figured that much out, Kevin made it his personal mission to skim thousands of classical libraries for new selections, and visited almost weekly to share them with Scott. He also wanted to have an excuse to make sure Mitch was taking care of himself too, but Mitch didn't need to know that part. As always, they simply adapted and the music was still there.

But then Scott started to get weak.

Unpredictable numbness in his legs soon restricted him to a wheelchair most of the time. He absolutely despised the "blue monstrosity" as it had been dubbed, but after he'd collapsed in the hallway and Mitch had to call Avi to help get him up again, they both agreed it was a necessary safety precaution. On the good days Mitch would hear Scott emerge from his room and hoist himself up on the piano bench to play a few sweet quiet chords, and Mitch could tell by the look of peace that crossed his face that those few little chords gave him a much needed reprieve. So Mitch joined alongside him whenever he could, and together they relished in the brief moments of relief that the music brought.

Even so, Scott's mind, body, and soul eventually grew tired of fighting, and the good days became fewer and farther between and the chords became less frequent and far softer. Soon Scott was spending more time sleeping and resting than he was awake, and Mitch could tell that their time together was quickly dwindling. Desperate to cherish however long they had left, he refused to leave his best friend's side, even if Scott was sleeping. He traced is fingers in random patterns across his back, memorising the way his form felt beneath his fingers. He studied his peaceful face to remember the way his faint freckles splayed across his nose. He inhaled deeply to engrave the scent in his mind. Every night, he would sing lullabies from their childhood until Scott drifted away from the pain that consumed his time on Earth.

The day Scott died was the day the music stopped, and the silence was deafening.