The Pact (Scömìche)(completed)

12 Coffee

Scott filled a glass with ice from the dispenser, then topped up with filtered water. He drank slowly, washing away the last trace of chocolate. Then he refilled his glass and held it against his forehead. Pressure was building inside his skull. He needed to get away and he had to stand his ground. He pressed three ibuprofen from their foil pack with trembling fingers.

"We need those napkins, it got messy with the strawberries." Kirstie washed her hands and came to stand next to him.

He swallowed the tablets. "Yeah, that can happen." He picked up the paper towel roll and offered it without looking at her. "Will this do?"

Her arm snaked around his waist. "Had enough for now? Because we can go, if you want."

He put down the paper roll and pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. "Tell me you're not checking up on me."

"And if I was, if I wanted to make sure you're okay, because I love you, what about it?"

Scott had no answer. He hated the thought that they were observing him on the sly, like he was some kind of tragic case. But he missed their old understanding more. How they had been so in tune, musically and emotionally, that any problems were obvious. How they had all taken turns to check up on someone who was struggling. How they had been family. His shoulders trembled.

"Don't cry, Scotty. You've brought us all together again, like you did in the beginning."

"I'm - we're not. Not really together." He took a deep breath. He couldn't give in to tears again. Not here, not yet.

"But we can be," another voice said.

Scott lifted his head and saw Kevin standing inside the door, holding plates. He put them down and came forward to enclose both Scott and Kirstie in his arms.

"I have prayed so hard for us all," he said softly. "Prayers aren't always answered, I know that. But sometimes we have the chance to make them reality, by our own actions. We can choose to be together."

The three friends didn't move, even when someone else came into the kitchen.

"I'll make some tea and coffee, shall I?" Avi murmured, stepping around the group embrace. "Don't mind me."

Kirstie squeezed Scott and moved away. "I never do. Where are your mugs, Scott? Out of reach of a little one like me, no doubt."

Scott laughed. "Pardon me for arranging my own kitchen to suit my own self."

The headache eased, and out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed Esther sitting next to Mitch. Scott helped Avi with the fancy coffee maker, found spoons, loaded the dishwasher. It was always best to keep busy.

Avi took the tray of drinks back outside, and Scott followed. People had changed seats, and he found himself sitting between Kirstie and Avi, with Mitch directly opposite flanked by Esther and Kevin.

"Did you make this for me?" Mitch turned the little espresso cup filled with dark coffee between his fingers, then looked up at Scott.

"Well, I knew you were living in Italy, and the machine makes anything you want, so I gave it a try." Scott fiddled with a teaspoon. "Try it."

Mitch inhaled the aroma, before sipping. "That's pretty good." He drank more, and set the cup down. "So if it makes anything, has your machine lured you away from Starbucks?"

Scott's mouth twitched. "Nothing beats a Starbucks caramel macchiato, and who has time to make fancy drinks every morning?"

"Who indeed."

"How is Italy? You always wanted to spend some time there."

"Milan is amazing. It's crazy but I felt like I had come home, once I got to grips with the language. As it turns out, you learn really, really quickly when you have to."

Scott tried not to be blinded by the brilliant flash of Mitch's smile, and found himself smiling back. "That's very true. So, are you visiting in LA? I heard you were making a movie."

"Oh, that. We just wrapped up the shoot, so much of movie making is in post production these days. I won't miss wearing that mo-cap suit. Zero style points."

"Who's your character?"

"I play an alien named Xi who helps the resistance leader." He waved a hand. "Usual sci-fi stuff, but good for convincing directors that I can act in something other than little art house projects. Had to shave my head, but that's better than wearing a bald cap."

"Oh, so that's why your hair's so short."

Scott eyed the velvety fuzz, and his fingertips recalled stroking a bare scalp, eons ago after Mitch had risked a backlash from the fans by shaving his head. He remembered holding the clippers, how they had laughed filming for their YouTube channel Superfruit, and later while sweeping the purple hair from the floor.

That episode taught them that Pentatonix fans were no longer the small adoring family they had built around them in the early days. In a group so large, opinions were bound to vary. But they had more than enough love to see off any negativity. And Scott had been so very proud of Mitch, for his bravery and experimentation.

He'd been so grateful to Kirstie, Avi and Kevin, who closed ranks around Mitch without question. They stared holes into any interviewer who dared even think about being critical, and made sure Mitch always knew he was beautiful.

The elegant, poised man in front of him was connected to the boy he'd once been, but he was also a million miles away from his origins. He believed in his own beauty. Mitch talked about life on set, and Scott half-listened, while memories tried to fight free of the box he'd locked them in.

"Filming sounds a bit like touring. Lots of hanging around and then a huge push to perform," Scott said.

"You're not wrong. So much time in your trailer, and I think I've read every novel I ever want to in this life."

"Not the same when you're on your own, is it?" Scott said hesitantly. He didn't want to push.

"No. We always had each other to joke around with on the PTX tours. It was fun." Mitch stared at his empty espresso cup, and said no more.

"Guys, I gotta run. Saskia and Lynn are back at the hotel, so I'll see you later." Avi hugged his sister and waved at Scott. "What time?"

"Anytime after six, " Scott replied.

"Anyone need a ride, this is your chance." Avi went back to the house, followed by Kevin and Kirstie. Esther collected the cups and left Scott alone with Mitch.

"Beautiful house, Scott."

"Thanks."

"I guess I ought to get going too." Mitch stood up and waited as Scott did the same. "Will I see you tonight?"

The question hung in the air. Scott watched Mitch's expression, and found he couldn't tell what emotion lay behind the glossy surface.

"Of course, we've got more catching up to do. You're still gluten free?" At Mitch's nod, he went on. "You still like wine?"

Mitch grinned. "Is the sky blue? Catch you later then." He swept past, and Scott heard Esther say goodbye.

Scott stood very still, breathing slowly. That wasn't so bad. They were talking, and they'd survived. He went back inside, kissed Esther's cheek and went up to his bedroom. He kicked off his shoes and lay on the bed fully dressed.

In some ways, he'd felt like an observer in his own house. But it went well, overall. He had thought about Mitch, making sure there were gluten free options and bringing out the real Italian coffee he'd searched for online. Despite everything, he wanted to be prepared, even when all was lost and it seemed impossible.

Hell, he even looked up how to operate the damn machine, when usually he just dropped in at Starbucks. He had spent time making sure Mitch was okay and felt comfortable. He fell asleep wondering how much time Mitch had spent thinking about him.