Chapter 9.5

“I’m not gonna-” The followup words could not be dislodged from his throat, and a explosive “Fuck you!” was all he managed, his chest tightening once the words were spat. “Why would you say that? Why the fuck would you say that?”

“Because you explicitly told me to warn you when you start doing this,” she snapped back, and his face fell; were he a dog, his tail would be between his legs. “Because I’ve witnessed this many times before? I know how you get, right before you realize how badly you want someone. You telegraph hard.” She sharply inhaled through her nose, exhaled through her mouth, then took a step forward and crowded into his space. As he stood frozen, she reached up and smoothed some of his hair, then cupped his cheek. The instinct to lean into the touch was strong, but he staved it off. She tried to get him to look at her, but he refused and opted to stare at the wall instead. Sighing, she pleaded, “Just stay in here for a bit and cool off. For me? And we can talk about this later?”

Were he able to drive -technically he could- he would have stolen Jodie’s car and taken off. But then go where? To a bar, where he’d be unable to drink unless he wanted to risk relapsing? Back home, where signs of Avi had sprung up everywhere? To Toby’s, which was looking more and more like the inevitable option every day that passed; the loneliness became stronger with each passing day, messing with whatever willpower reserves that he hadn’t yet drained.

His eyes squeezed shut and he gave a hard nod, then unceremoniously dropped onto the sofa when Jodie left the room. He tried to deny the points that she made, but her track record was flawless when it came to these assessments. Generally she waited a while before saying something, and at that point he’d be in much too deep. By addressing it sooner rather than later, Mitch understood that this was an act of mercy; now he could prepare better, possibly quell this before it became a rampant wildfire, scorching countless acres in its wake.

He considered that this thing could be nothing more than a byproduct, the amalgamation of his strained emotions which manifested as desire during a strange period of his life. Wouldn’t be the first time. And it wasn’t as though he could act on it, on account of what was presently out of order.

Besides, there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with being attracted to someone. Mitch handled being Louis’ tag team partner for over a year, despite the occasional passing fantasy of getting railed by him. And Avi was certainly attractive, how could he not appreciate the way that he always smelled like spearmint and spice? Or how his ass belonged in a museum for preservation? Or the full lips and soft smiles that so often graced them? It was a biological response, no more or less.

Biology, however, didn’t explain how his knees went weak over reassurances or compliments, or the cravings for Avi’s undivided attention at any give opportunity.

“Oh my god I’m fucked.” He ran a hand down his face and went completely horizontal on the sofa, body deflating as though all of his bones had been removed from it. An undetermined amount of time passed as he stayed in that position, and he cursed himself for leaving his phone in the locker room. However, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he’d leave the office to get it, he wasn’t ready to show his face in public. 

And god forbid he bumped into Avi. He would rather die.

Eventually, the office door opened, and Louis’ head poked in. “Hey man,” he greeted warmly, his damp long hair and the smell of cheap shampoo indicating that his match was already over.

“Hey Loulou,” Mitch responded without bothering to mask his wariness.

“You uh, wanna skedaddle?” Mitch went to open his mouth, but before he could, Louis continued with, “Jodie said it was cool.”

“So she asked you,” Mitch deadpanned.

“Hey, I’m just the messenger. And maybe cabbie.” It wasn’t the first time that Louis served as the middle man during their spats, and it wouldn’t be the last. Grateful for the courtesy and not wanting to drag him down any further, Mitch only requested that his phone be retrieved before they leave. Louis, being the good friend that he was, hastily obliged.

When his phone was back in his possession, Mitch stood up and stretched. His bones felt denser than usual, aching from either depression or the inactivity or a combination of both. “Take me home?” He quietly asked.

“I’ll take ya home alright,” Louis kidded, full of faux insinuation as he put his arm around Mitch’s back, careful to avoid the bad shoulder. Though the gesture was small, it made suffocating weight bearable. Mitch laughed and allowed himself to be pulled into the side hug, grateful that Louis’ orbit was a familiar comfort that he could always rely on even when everything else fell apart.   

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