Song is Topics by NeverTheLess
Vikk's P.O.V.
It was early in the morning, maybe just past 9 and I had just gotten up. I was exhausted, I had been recording all night and had only managed to snatch up a couple of hours of sleep.
When I looked in the mirror I could see black bags, although minor, hanging underneath my eyes. Mitch was downstairs, I had heard him get up earlier that morning from our bed because he had woken me up even though he had tried to be quiet.
I remember waking up in the even earlier hours of the morning, probably around 7 and Mitch was just creeping out of my arms ready to start the day and he had accidently knocked me gently, stirring me out of my sleep. He had kissed me gently before motioning for me to go back to sleep, which I did gladly because of my lack of sleep.
Mitch had known how late I stayed up too, he had come to me at about 3 in the morning begging me to come to bed, but it had taken me another hour before I had actually gone up to bed.
I trudged down the stairs tiredly, feet making stomping noises every step I took but I wasn't fully aware of the noises I was making until Jerome poked his head around the corner and laughed at my tired state.
"Come on, I know you're tired but it doesn't call for that much noise." He reached out his arm and I took it gladly as he led me into the kitchen to have some late breakfast.
It took a while but after a few minutes I was seated at the kitchen bar with a mug of hot coffee in my hands and a bowl of cereal in front of me. I was much more awake than I had been before after the caffeine had hit my system and I was gladly talking with Jerome, a small smile etched on my face.
I hadn't seen anything of Mitch just yet, he was probably upstairs recording or editing.
I headed back upstairs to start recording but instead of hearing Mitch's voice yelling at something or just talking while recording, I heard his quiet voice singing while a piano played in the background.
I knew Mitch could play the piano, I had heard him enough times to know he was actually amazing at it.
{Cue Music}
God, You've got to save us
We hide behind the faces that we make to disguise
The things that we're ashamed of
And all the ugly things that make us close our eyes
They make us close our eyes
Why do we close our eyes?
There was a small pause for a piano solo and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, I knew he had depression but he never really opened up to me about it, so I left it.
We avoid the topics
We make the kids have secrets
When they are exposed
And everyone else knows
We'll say we never knew it
That they had a problem
'Cause if we would have known
We surely would have solved it..
I cracked the door open and I saw Mitch, his arms and head resting on the piano, facing away from me and tears streaming down his face. His body jolted as he sobbed and I felt my heart leap into my throat, tears threatening to spill over.
"Mitch?" His head whipped around and I saw his trembling lip, shaking limbs and the tears falling from his eyes, and his aura of complete despair and sadness. I picked my way over to him, wrapping him into a hug and he pressed his head into my chest, visibly shaking and shivering and crying too.
I was half standing and it was getting uncomfortable for me to stand and support Mitch, so I tried to pull him off the seat and onto the ground where we could rest properIly. I could still feel him sobbing and I tried to wrap my arms around him, letting him rest his head in the crook of my shoulder, where it was more comfortable.
"Why didn't you tell me about this? I want to help you... You know that, right?" He shook his head, tears still falling.
"I don't trust myself enough to tell people." His head still in my shoulder I started to run my hand up and down his back, trying not to cry myself.
"You trust me don't you?" He didn't move, his fingers starting to scrabble at my shirt collar and trying to find something to hold on too.
I was still sensing complete despair coming from him and I moved myself around so he could rest more comfortably on my chest, placing my hand on his forehead to feel his temperature. He was far too warm and I moved around to take his sweatshirt off to cool him down, but he flinched and curled over.
"Mitch you're too hot, I need to take your sweatshirt off." Finally he allowed me too and I pulled it off carefully, noting how all of the skin on his arms were flushed red and almost radiating heat. Even though he was extremely warm, he still refused to let go of me, tears still rolling down his face.
In the position he was lying I could no longer reach his back so I ran my hands up and down his side, stopping at once when Mitch flinched and I heard a tiny whimper.
"Mitch?" He shook his head, the tears starting up again.
Slowly and carefully I lifted his t-shirt and then froze, seeing the red line, 20 or 30 of them at least, running up his sides. All of the lines were made by a tiny blade and all of them were new, some of them still seeping tiny amounts of blood and staining his shirt.
"Mitch no.... I didn't think you'd go down my path." His eyes, still mostly filled with tears looked at me, in disbelief.
"You... you didn't?..." I nodded, pulling up the side of my shirt to expose the thin white lines, most of them years old, running up my hip.
"Being a teenager wasn't fun for me." Mitch reached his hand out, gingerly touching the scars and his wide as he felt the raised skin.
"They don't fade?" I shook my head.
"These are years old now, I doubt they'll ever fade." I knew they stood out against my dark skin being a much lighter colour but I mostly ignored them, as they never showed even if I was shirtless because of their placement. "See what this does? I don't want you to go down the same path... fight."
Still with tears in his eyes, he nodded.
"I can't do it alone." I smiled.
"I know, and I'm not going to leave. I'm here to help."
