Home Is // Scott x Mike // My Own Private Idaho

Chapter Two

     Scott's home was as big as Mike always imagined. Mike often said he wanted to live in a big house, but he knew deep down that it was a lie. He wouldn't fit in there, let alone find a way to get comfy. The fact that this place was both huge and perfectly stable made Mike shutter. It had been months since he entered a house this large.

     There, in the hallway, on the carpet, was bags. Mike shrugged it off, considering Carmella was still packing. And he was right, because as soon as the thought had left his mind, she came into the room. Mike envied Carmella on every level.

     "I thought you left." Scott said, almost rudely. It made Mike wince, despite that Scott wasn't referring to him. Scott was the only person who couldn't criticize Mike. Mike simply couldn't handle that much pressure. Not from the guy he loved, anyway.

     "I'm working on it." Carmella barked back in a thick Italian accent. When Mike had first met her, she barely spoke English. It was a wonder that she ended up with Scott, with the whole language issue. 

     "Well, work harder." Scott's words were hardly even a mumbled, but Carmella caught it. Mike knew she had, because her pace slowed and her demeanor changed, just like that. He thought that Scott was being too harsh, but given the severity of the situation, shown clearly by Scott's foul attitude towards her, Mike also knew that Scott could be doing way worse. 

     Mike followed Scott into the living room, which was very nice, even considering the fact that Mike's job allowed him to see many of nice places. Or maybe Mike thought it was nice because it belonged to Scott. But he also knew Scott hadn't decorated this, or even remotely recommended this. Scott didn't have an ounce of an etiquette taste, despite how strenuously he tried. Mike knew not just what Scott had first hungered for nearly four years before this, but he also knew that Scott was not far off from that boy who was so astray from his upbringing. 

     "Make yourself at home." Scott told him, gesturing to the couches. Mike took a seat, still leaving his friend in an array of silence. He liked to remain ominous when it came to Scott, or at least he did now. He didn't want to get too comfortable then be stipulated to leave again. Mike couldn't deal with that right now. Not after all the trouble Scott had caused.

     "Mike, I-" Miked was quick to cut Scott off. No, Mike had never been the indignant type, even when he probably should have been, but Scott was going to be the death of him. But tonight, Mike could not hold back. He had every right to be cross.

     "I love you, Goddamn it! I love you and you treat me like shit!" Mike vociferated. He was angry and confused and in love, and all Scott could do was drag him to his big, fancy house and try to apologize. The amount of pain Mike could gather up to let out through his tears weren't nearly enough. "I love you." He cried again, this time indistinctly. Despite that, Scott slowly approached the disconsolate boy before him, and remembered that that's all Mike was. A boy. A boy forced into the life of a hustler to make ends meat, and here Scott was, being his rich, misogynistic self. 

     Scott sat next to Mike, holding him, the way they did that night they spent outside. Mike, although he was disinclined to do so, let his head rest in the crook of Scott's neck, breathing in the scent of Scott's no doubt 200 dollar cologne. Mike had missed him; that's for sure.

     "I love you too." Scott all but muttered. He felt Mike stiffen beneath him, but then relaxed, a soothed sigh releasing from his nose. Scott had always been in love with Mike, but would have denied it, even if he was out to ruin the Favor name. But now, there was no name to ruin. It was just Scott, and while for a moment that got to Scott's head, today, and for many days after, Scott decided, all there was left to do was live.

     "No, you don't." Mike cried. Mike was still crying, which was a pain in Scott's heart. Scott never did enjoy knowing that he was the mainspring for Mike's sadness, and had an inclination to take it all back. This inclination began the day of Bob Pigeon's funeral, the day Scott and Mike stared into the eyes of one another, both yearning to bring back what had happened nearly two weeks before. A time before Scott was twenty one, and a time before Scott left. When the hustlers were all happy, or as happy as you can be as a hustler.

     "You don't know shit, Mike Waters." A soft chuckled escaped Scott's lips, his hand reaching up to stroke the thick strands of Mike's thick, messy blonde hair. Mike nuzzled further into Scott, his sobs subsiding. He seemed soothed, and Scott realized what was happening. Mike was about to fall asleep again. 

     Mike did fall asleep. And so Scott carried him up to his room, and placed him delicately on his bed. Scott was determined to give Mike a place to stay, whether Mike hated him or whatever it was he felt for Scott these days. But one thing was clear in Scott's mind; Mike still loved him, which was enough.

     The bed shifted under the two men's weight, Scott's eyes carefully gazing the sleeping body before him, as if his stare would wake him up. Mike's chest shifted up and down in a slow pattern, and his eyes flickered a few times under his eyelids. He was twitching, the way he always did when he had an attack. Scott noted each small movement, the ones that he remembered happening when he would hold Mike as he slept. When Mike was like this, he was no longer a love interest to Scott. Mike became a child. A sick child, that Scott needed to care for. However, Scott never voiced these opinions aloud, because Mike was no child. He was nearly a grown man with a condition, but that didn't stop Scott from taking care of him, or at least holding him. 

     The more Scott watched his sleeping friend, the more he missed him. He missed everything. Literally and mentally. Mike had gotten thinner, Scott had noticed. He also got more timid. Mike always expressed a lack of being fully there, or even enthusiasm, but Scott used to bring all that out in him. But here Mike was. Black and white. Filtered. Sad.

    Scott sighed. This was going to be an interesting journey. Maybe this time, they'll end up in France, or Germany. But not Italy. Scott refused to go to Italy.