Chapter 25 (Cry For Me)

Mitchel

Nothing was the same. He could feel it with his entire body and sense it whenever he talked to him. He watched as he grew to resent him with every day that passed. He pulled away whenever their hands grazed against each others. He avoided his eyes whenever he could. The worst part was that Mitchel couldn't atone for what he did.

One day, he tried for the last time to speak to him. He was standing by the stove when he saw him sauteing some onions. Mitchel inhaled a deep breath before easing up to him.

"Hey, Kras," Mitchel said and placed a gentle hand on the small of his back. Immediately, Christian pulled away and glared at him with a scowl.

"What?" He demanded. "I'm cooking." Mitchel stepped away, his body wilting at his cold words.

"Oh," he replied. "Sorry, I just-"

Christian let out an annoyed sigh and turned to him. "What do you want?" He interrupted. Mitchel swallowed and folded his fingers. He didn't really know what to say. Christian was clearly irritated but he knew that saying "never mind" and leaving would only anger him. Even Clinton had noticed how irritable he was towards Mitchel, but it was clear that he thought he deserved it.

The harsh downturn of his brows and his cold eyes made his heart squeeze. All he wanted at the moment was to fix things with Christian. He knew that it wouldn't be easy but trying was better than simply giving up. He was his best friend and bandmate- they had to move past their issues. That's why Mitchel said, "tell me what I need to do."

Christian didn't miss a beat when he said, "you need to go away." The statement stung more than he thought it would. Mitchel bit his lip and watched as Christian turned back to his onions. He swore quietly when he saw how they were starting to smoke.

"See what you did?" He asked and scraped at his pan. Mitchel frowned and pushed on anyway.

"I mean it, Kras. Tell me what I can do for you- anything, Christian, I'll do anything for your forgiveness!"

Mitchel was clutching onto his arm again but he hadn't even realized that he'd moved.

"Don't you understand?" Christian demanded as he jerked his arm away. Mitchel's touch was like poison against his skin. "I want you to die!" He shouted. Mitchel stepped away. At first, he thought he'd heard him wrong. The words echoed in his head and froze him in his place as the weight of the words took root within him.

Christian still had that same vile scowl on his face, the one that he'd come to see every day. It tore at his soul to know that Christian was only cold towards him. He was loving and kind to everyone else in the band- the scary part was that Mitchel only really cared about what Christian thought of him. He could take it if Jesse or Pat or the backup drummer despised him. But Christian? No. It couldn't happen.

"I-I don't understand..." Mitchel whispered mostly to himself. And then Christian turned on him. He raised his hand and slammed it against the cupboard that was behind him, just inches from his face. The slow whine that escaped his throat surprised him but Christian didn't appear to be phased at all. The sound of the impact filled the kitchen and sent him in a bit of a daze. When he flinched, Mitchel could have sworn he saw something flash behind Christian's eyes: satisfaction.

"Why aren't you listening? I hate you, Mitchel! I fucking hate you!" Christian shouted, and the look in his eyes was one that Mitchel would never be able to forget. His face was inches from the other man's and they were so close that he could smell the scent of his hair which was still slightly damp from when he washed it. Heat radiated off of his skin and warmed his face.

"No, wait," he desperately pleaded. But he wouldn't listen. "Shut up, Mitchel!" Christian hissed, his lips pulled back in disgust. "You're a shitty person, a sad excuse of a human being." Christian pushed his hand away whenever he tried to take his wrist.

Salty tears covered his face like a thin mask. His eyes were bloodshot from all of his crying. "Never talk to me again!" Christian shouted. "You murdered Molly! What kind of idiot would beg for my forgiveness?" He demanded.

"Christian, wait!" He cried. "It was an accident! I'm sorry, Christian, I'm so sorry," Mitchel pleaded. And then the image of Molly's corpse flashed from behind his eyes. Her eyes flew open as she screamed and he stumbled back as Christian came back into his view. The man who towered over him gave him a look that was a mixture of disgust and pure hatred.

The pang in Mitchel's gut and heartfelt like the wound of a knife. Christian's words only twisted and pushed the blade in harder. "I'm done pretending, Mitchel. I've hated you since that day- no, for a long time before that." He spoke slowly so that Mitchel was able to hear every word and syllable he spoke. "I never loved you and I never will. Fuck, I can't even pretend to like seeing your ugly face anymore!" Christian continued to throw insults at Mitchel as his knees gave out and he helplessly collapsed onto the ground, a sobbing and shaking mess.

+++

"Mitchel? Mitty, baby, wake up."

Mitchel's eyes fluttered open to see his best friend's face above him as he lightly shook his shoulder.

"Christian!" was all that Mitchel was able to wail. He knew was a mess. His pajama shirt clung to his sweaty skin, tears streaked his cheeks, and his nose ran. At least he knew that his hair wasn't tangled. Still, his hair would have been the least of his problems.

He let Christian pull him into his arms and hug him tightly as he quietly sobbed. His touch felt somewhat foreign after his dream. He couldn't bear to look at the younger man. The bitter words he spoke in his dream still echoed in his head and the image of his angry face was burned into his brain.

"Shh, don't cry, Mitty," Christian soothed as he rubbed circles into his back. "I'm here, I'm right here," He repeated to him. Still, Mitchel couldn't help but tense under his touch. Sure, he was relieved that it had only been a dream, but wasn't it true that dreams were derived from reality? Didn't that mean that some of the events had the potential to be reality? Mitchel didn't want to think about that but he couldn't help it.

(I hate you!)

"Don't go," Mitchel managed to say in-between his sobs. His entire body shook in his arms and he wished that for once he'd stop crying. He couldn't imagine how weak and dependant he appeared to be. He wanted to be stronger but it was hard.

"I'm not going anywhere," Christian gently replied. As Mitchel's tears stopped falling, Christian asked, "Was it the spiders?" He was referring to the terrible nightmares Mitchel previously had that involved a large number of spiders of all shapes and sizes. Usually, he was able to wake himself up from those dreams. In this one, he was stuck and forced to see it all.

Mitchel shook his head against his chest instead of replying. There was no way that he'd tell him what had occurred. All Mitchel needed was to know that Christian wasn't going to leave. He had to be sure even though he already said he wouldn't. People lie all the time. Sometimes words aren't enough.

"Do you want to tell me what it was about?" Christian tucked a few strands of his messy blond hair behind his ear and Mitchel couldn't help but feel a small tinge of comfort in the action. Still, he shook his head.

"Was it about your parents?"

"No."

"Clinton?"

"No."

Christian shifted Mitchel in his arms so that he sat on his lap in bridal style. It was a comfortable position that made Mitchel want to fall asleep in the shelter of his arms.

"Was it about me?" He asked after a while. He tilted Mitchel's face upwards with two fingers so that he could finally meet his eyes. That night, they were dark green and glowed from the light that streamed through his curtains. Mitchel usually slept in his own room, but since Clinton's accident, he felt much safer with his best friend. The reason was inexplicable but Christian allowed him to do so anyway.

When he saw the younger man's expression change, he knew he could tell what the answer was when he looked into his swollen red eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere," Christian repeated. "I won't leave you."

Mitchel looked away and rested his head on his best friend's shoulder.

"And you can't leave me either, Mitchel," Christian said slowly. His fingers were on his face again. They gently guided his head so that their eyes met once more. "Promise me you won't leave me, Mitchel," Christian whispered and his eyes softened. Mitchel chewed on his bottom lip and nodded. He'd never seen Christian appear to be so vulnerable and genuine- not even at Molly's funeral.

Mitchel knew that it was just a dream, but he wanted to ask Christian if he was faking it. He yearned to know if he really did hate him, but he didn't ask. Instead, he lay in Christian's arms and listened to the steady beat of his heart.

Christian

Christian wiped the tears on Mitchel's face and smoothed what was left of his hair. He hated to see his best friend in pain, hated it even more that he almost never asked for help. Mitchel was so independent, but he wasn't alone. He knew that Mitchel thought he was, and that it was impossible to convince him that he wasn't.

For a long time, he'd been watching Mitchel crumble. Whatever had happened in his dream was almost like his breaking point- and it worried him. No one else noticed how Mitchel would stare into space for long periods of time. No one noticed how the lines in his face got deeper as if he'd aged another five years. His voice wavered as he spoke and the confidence that had taken him years to build crumbled in a matter of weeks. Mitchel was just as precious as he was beautiful.

He was a glass ornament dangling from a tree, and he was hanging onto the end of the branch. It would only be a short amount of time until he finally let go. Soon, He'd fall to the ground and shatter into millions of pieces. He wanted to help Mitchel, to reassure him that whatever happened was just a dream, that it would stay there in the world of dreams.

But he couldn't. Not without knowing exactly what happened. He wouldn't dare lie to him, not after all that he'd gone through. The thought that Mitchel had put him through his own personal hell flashed in the back of his mind, but it was gone as soon as it came. He wondered how he was able to be so forgiving towards Mitchel. It was blatantly obvious that Clinton wondered the same thing. But it was simple: he didn't know. He just... was. Mitchel was his moon and he had a feeling that he was Mitchel's sun. They completed each other and would do just about anything for one another- Mitchel had made that very obvious.

Christian laid back down with Mitchel still wrapped around him. He clung to him as a child would with their mother, but it was somehow different from the way Mitchel did it. Any time they touched, Mitchel held onto him as if he were going to leave him. He knew that Mitchel held onto him even when they weren't touching. He didn't mind though. The thought was comforting and for once, Christian felt like he had a purpose. He felt needed.

He stared up at the dark ceiling and listened to the sound of Mitchel's steadying breathing. Despite Mitchel's steady breaths, he could still hear the heartbreak in his sobs. It echoed throughout the room with an eerie tone that send chills through his bones. Whatever it was that Christian said- or did in his dream was enough to make Mitchel cry. His heart ached at the thought of doing so. No matter what, he'd protect Mitchel. No matter what, he'd do his best to help him hold onto his branch for as long as possible. That was his purpose.

"I love you, Mitchel," Christian said quietly. It was the first time he'd said it and fully meant every word. He loved Mitchel more than anything in the world. He loved him as more than a best friend- he loved him as a companion. Moments after he spoke, he felt Mitchel begin to shake in his arms as he started crying again.