History Lesson Part 1

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Hello Lovely Readers!  If you have read my first Scömìche story Downstairs, you will know I write the naughty words and smut.  I'll let you know when to skip ahead if it's not your thing!  Enjoy! :)

Chapter 1 - Mitch's POV

History lesson...

Hi I'm Mitch.  So I'm not the most wealthy person.  I never finished school, and I've had a string of menial jobs that were unfulfilling.  The only thing that keeps me sane is music.  I live in a small fishing town with a population of under 5,000 people.  Work at the moment means packing fish into boxes.  The attire is something out of an outbreak movie, white rubber boots, plastic rain coat, hair net and gloves.  Attractive right!  Nope. 

I have a small apartment that has everything a person of 24 years needs.  The shower works and the hot water runs as long as you want it to.  And the laundry is open 24/7, you just supply your own detergent.  Thank the Lord.  When I come home from work, getting rid of the smell of fish means a long hot shower and keeping my work clothes separate from the ones I wear to the limited night spots in town.  The kitchen is small, but functions and I know how to cook, so I can look after myself without too much trouble.  Besides anyone can use a microwave and pizza is my favourite food.

I don't really go out by myself though.  The small number of places to go, plus the added issue of hooking up with people you know too well, makes it hard to get myself out there at this point in time.  It doesn't help that there are so few people I can actually hook up with in such a small town. 

I'm gay.  I've been out for 5 years.  Everyone of my acquaintance, friends and family know and don't treat me any differently than they would anyone else.  My family object to me coming over as soon as I finish work, more than they would object to my sexual orientation, if in fact they did.  I was lucky it made no difference.  When I told Mom, she was more upset about me having no one to love, more than not having a daughter-in-law somewhere down the track.

The management at work are great.  They do look after their staff, we get lunch provided for us, but the money could be better.  I want to get out of here and live somewhere, where I have a pick of more than just Bears and the occasional Twink who're experimenting. 

It's not all bad though, my place in the line means I can listen to the music coming over the radio which plays all day.  The channels don't change very often, and my taste for EDM and alternative music is mainly fed by watching clips online in the evening after work.  But there is this one classical music channel that the Boss's wife sometimes plays when her son is on it, that I love.  Connie is so proud of Scott.  He is a classic pianist and is a member of an orchestra that performs regular concerts.  He is also now involved in making soundtracks for movies.  I've never seen him, but he plays beautifully.  The way Connie raves about him, you'd think he walks on water.  Apparently he can sing too.  My modest achievements in this area include singing with the local choir and messing around with my friends trying to be a band in Kevin's parent's garage.

Kevin, you'd never meet a more generous and kind person.  He and the rest of our group are the reason I've stayed in this town as long as I have.  Kevin works for his father as a crabber.  He plays the cello, saxophone and piano.  He can also beatbox.  He is the bomb!  Avi plays guitar.  Kirstie the drums.  I can play keyboard and I'm OK with a bass but we are all really good singers.  Kirstie is stuck at one of the local supermarkets, she's a check-out-chick.  Avi went into law-enforcement like his Dad.  He's the youngest Deputy on staff and looks totally cute in uniform..  His father is always trying to get Avi to shave and cut his hair though.  But I like the long hair on him.  The beard is cute too.  I tell him regularly not to give in to pressure.  I think if his Mom didn't like it too, he would be clean shaven and wear a crew cut.  Eeewwww.

We mess around most weekends trying to write music and get something together that we can present at our bar.  Kirstie loves Karaoke, so we often do that when we're drunk.  It's a confidence thing.  We think we're good, but we haven't taken that next step toward getting our own music out there.  Who knows, maybe it will happen.  I have the feeling we're just killing time until one of us finally leaves.  I hope it's me.  I've nearly saved enough for a ticket out of town with the idea of moving to a larger city, finding an apartment and working in an industry that isn't so smelly.  Mmmmmm that would be nice. 

My dream?  To make it out of this town, to be somewhere I love, with someone I love, doing something I love.  Tall order I know, but I want it all.  I want that feeling you have when you are with the perfect person, that someone who loves you unconditionally and wants you to be happy.  I dream about it regularly.  And no it's not someone tall, dark and handsome.  I like blondes, dirty, bleached, natural, ash or copper streaked.  Especially the guys that look totally baby faced even with stubble.  They remind me of someone I used to spend the summer with. 

Rick was adventurous and he had the most infectious laugh.  We'd spend hours at the beach, checking out rock pools and skipping stones.  I know he was out of my league and I never saw him at school, so he must have gone to the snobby school on the hill.  I wonder what happened to him.  He's probably somewhere living the dream.  The only memento I have of Rick is a small scar on my palm where we became blood brothers and a small photo I keep in my copy of Great Expectations.  

It's been so long since I've had that flutter you get in your stomach when you see someone and think 'Oh he's fine.'  I miss the comfort of having someone hold me close.  A connection deeper than just surface appearance.  I'm never going to find something like that in this town.  Just keep working and saving until you can leave Mitch.  That's all that's keeping me going.  I rubbed my palm, it's a habit I have when I'm daydreaming or thinking about song lyrics. 

That night I went to sleep thinking about the last summer I spent with Rick, the last day we had and the kiss.

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