Chapter 15.5

Going on a year sober made Mitch a certifiable lightweight. He didn’t hate that two glasses of whatever he sucked down -some take on a Long Island- already had him warm and fuzzy. The world felt a little softer, like a vintage Polaroid photograph or an old vinyl that occasionally popped.

Memories resurfaced of conversations from meetings and reading material he’d been handed, reminding him that alcohol was still a drug and that he shouldn’t partake in it. Some people would claim that he failed. Those close to him would talk to him with that dreaded sympathetic tone, because oh lord he was relapsing! But he smoked pot on a daily basis and was already addicted to things such as cigarettes and coffee, the latter being perfectly acceptable in society. Furthermore, he made the decision to stop at two drinks. He did that on his own. But no one would congratulate him on an incredible feat of self control.

He wanted to feel good, just once. Was that so much to ask for? The last few weeks, few months-

The entirety of 2018 had been an absolute shitshow with no breaks. Aside from a few stolen sips of Toby’s wine and the night of binging after Calvin’s confession, he managed the bulk of it without touching hard drugs or alcohol. Not a single person offered their congratulations, only their relief; and not for him, but for themselves, that they were the ones to reach a benchmark by not cutting ties with an addict. He got it, he did, but he was exhausted. And right then, that fatigue didn’t exist.

He conversed freely with people that he knew and barely knew alike, without all of the shyness and self-doubt that typically prevented him from doing so. He laughed long and hard, and all of the tension that’d been stored in his body eased out of him as though it was never there to begin with. It couldn’t be like this all of the time, he knew that much. There wouldn’t be another drink consumed that night, ideally never again, but maybe he was capable of a little self control. Maybe he wasn’t as helpless and pitiful as everyone wrote him off to be.

Mostly, he needed to stay clear of Jodie, which wasn’t difficult since she was busy with socializing. She didn’t need to be saddled with the concern of his well-being, and he didn’t need her bringing down his buzz. Everyone could be a winner tonight if he remained vigilant. And when he finally heard her voice nearby, he got to his feet and wove between the crowd to escape. 

Turning a corner, Mitch found himself in a dimly lit room that he was unfamiliar with. There were tons of props in it, most likely the storage area. Shoved towards the back were a few pieces of furniture strewn about, such as a couch and a dining table with chairs, which Rod and a few people played cards at. Perhaps it was a staff lounge for when the summer camp was in session?

Spotting that the couch was empty and craving the highest form of relaxation, he ambled over to it with as much poise as he could muster. However, he didn’t make it far without bumping into a chair he hadn’t noticed before, and stumbled over it. Stupid heels, stupid dress. His eyes squeezed shut as he braced himself for collision with the floor, and was shocked when instead he found himself seated and safe.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” There was a hand on his arm which slid to his lower back, and that oh, was Avi’s voice fraught with concern and right in his ear. Mitch shivered. He was on Avi’s lap. How the fuck did he get there? 

“How the fuck did I get here?” he tittered while scrambling to sober up as quickly as possible. He hadn’t factored in Avi.

“I think you tripped?” Avi responded. “Are you-“

“Please don’t tell Jodie,” Mitch cut him off in a panic, grabbing both sides of Avi’s face in desperation. The surprised look that was reflected back reminded him that Avi also didn’t know about that part of his past.

“I won’t,” Avi nodded slowly, registration over what exactly was being requested of him becoming evident. “But maybe just chill out for a moment?”

“OK,” agreed Mitch. He still considered going over to the couch, but Avi hadn’t let go of him so he didn’t move. The hand at his back rubbed small, reassuring circles, and he leaned into it. And while he made an effort to not openly gawk Avi when they were within close proximity of one another, his attention fell upon the red and white ballcap on Avi’s head. His eyes drifted lower, landing on the ridiculous denim vest that barely fit around Avi’s shoulders, the seams crying for relief. He reached out and tugged at one of its buttons, asking, “Are you supposed to be the Pokemon boy?”

“Ash Ketchum? Yeah,” Avi grinned.

“Fuck, you’re adorable.” Mitch burst into a fit of laughter, and slung his arm around Avi’s neck to steady himself. “Everyone here brought some kind of weird psuedo-sexual nostalgia, and you chose-” He motioned at all of Avi. “This.”

“What, are you saying that a 10 year old boy can’t be…you know what, I can’t even finish making that joke without being put on some sort of list.” Avi started to crack up, which only made Mitch laugh harder. He curled in on himself, grabbing hold of the front of Avi’s shirt in a futile attempt to settle down.

“You freak,” he playfully shoved at Avi’s pec. “This is an 18+ party, no kids allowed. Go change into something slutty, you’re making us all self conscious.”

“Says the MILF hitting on the 10 year old,” Avi teased back. “By the way, great Morticia.”

“Thanks, I totally don’t have the tits to fill it out. You do, though. Wanna swap costumes? I look way more like a little boy than you do.” He removed the wig and placed it on top of Avi’s hat, adjusting the acrylic strands of hair so that they weren’t in his face.

“No you don’t,” snorted Avi as he allowed Mitch to continue smoothing the wig out. “You’re too like…” He paused, then his voice dropped an octave, hovering just above a whisper. “A hot rockstar type guy, y’know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Mitch shook his head. Avi stared up at him with something unreadable: bemusement or disbelief? As if he wasn’t aware that Mitch looked like a scrawny birdperson. Somewhere between the initial panic about being found out and the uproarious laughter, the hand on Mitch’s back moved and then resettled; this time, Avi kneaded the space between Mitch’s waist and hip. 

Being drunk, he may not have even noticed at all if Avi’s other hand hadn’t gone right above his knee, but now he’d become hyper aware of every single bit of movement. His skin was grazed against, the contact so light that he only registered it due to the fishnet going taught for a split second. He looked down and watched as the hem of his skirt’s slit touched the knuckle of Avi’s thumb, and a few millimeters of fabric now eclipsed his nail. 

Mitch’s breath hitched, and he prayed that it went undetected.

Heart in his throat, he still wanted clarification on what Avi meant, but words refused to leave his mouth. He was still touching Avi’s chest, and he needed to pull away but everything was too heavy, too magnetic, and he couldn’t move. Avi still stared up at him all thoughtful and whatnot, which only added to the gravity’s pressure. Like Avi was the sun itself, and Mitch was an outer planet: too far away for to receive warmth for sustenance, but helpless to do anything other than to be in his orbit.

Avi’s lips looked so, so good, Mitch noted; slightly parted, tongue poking out enough to moisten them, then darting back inside. 

He became witness to the physical deterioration of his very own mind. What a privilege to have. 

It had to be the alcohol. Avi had a girlfriend. Avi wasn’t an option, would never be one. “Uh, Charlie-” Mitch blurted out, and Avi’s eyebrows scrunched at the sudden turn in conversation. “I-I never asked, did Charlie have a good time in Vermont?”

“Oh!” Avi’s eyes went wide, then he cleared his throat. “Yeah, she did. We’re…we’re still working stuff out. Still talking it over.”

“That’s great. You’d, um-” Mitch swallowed hard; Avi gave him nothing further to work with, and the room was much too hot to maintain coherent thoughts. “You’d probably have to move out of Jodie’s if she did move here, right? Get your own place?” He wanted to slam his own head into the nearby wall. Why was that where he went? Why was he so bad at holding a simple conversation?

“I guess. I didn’t really think about it, but that makes sense.” Avi spoke with intent now, each word seemingly mulled over.

“I’d really miss you. If you moved out.” Mitch let out a helpless laugh, his mouth operating on its own accord.

And then his brain caught up with what he said.

If Avi responded, Mitch didn’t hear it. He excused himself to go to the restroom, uncurled from off of Avi’s lap and rushed away as fast as his wobbly legs could take him. While he hurried through the crowd, his vision blurred from the tell-tale threat of a cresting anxiety attack. He hadn’t even noticed that he kicked the heels off at some point. If Jodie caught him, she’d immediately know that he was completely out of his mind.

He’d been so good for so long, and now this. What a dumbass.

PREVIOUS | NEXT