Chapter 3 (The unreachable Christian Anthony)

Mitchel 

At 12:47 am, Mitchel heard the sound of the front door opening. He sat up quickly in his bed, a feeling of nausea rushing to his head. The thought of an intruder breaking into the house passed his mind, but the thought was gone as quickly as it came. He fumbled around in his sheets, searching for his phone. When his fingers finally found it, the sound of muffled giggles echoed in the halls, traveling to Mitchel's ears. 

Clinton had gone to bed early because he was meeting a friend early in the morning. That meant it was Christian who had come home. He looked at his phone and read the time, a loud banging sound sending another jolt through his body. More giggles.

Mitchel pushed the covers off of his body and slid out of his bed. The rain had stopped, though he didn't know when. He didn't care, though. The door to his room was already open, so he slipped through the entry way, rubbing his eyes. He was tired but whenever Christian went out, he stayed up to make sure he returned. He peaked around the corner, his eyes traveling down the stairs to see his best friend and his girlfriend. 

"Shhh," He heard Molly whisper in a not-so-hushed tone. She giggled again as Christian cupped his hands around her face, pulling her up into a kiss. Their actions escalated quickly, and Mitchel felt like he should have averted his eyes.

He would have done so if it didn't feel like he was frozen in his position. Molly pulled away, her arms still wrapped around Christian's neck. His hands were in her hair, and even though he couldn't see his face, he could tell what it looked like: lips spread slightly apart, and eyes full of love. 

Christian had never given Mitchel that look, and just imagining it ripped his heart out. He'd seen Christian give his special look to a number of girls, wishing that one day he'd look at him that way. But he never did. 

Mitchel bit his lip, watching as Christian took Molly's hand, his eyes never leaving her face. When he realized that Christian was heading upstairs, he shot up to his feet and speed-walked down the hall and into his room without looking back. But he didn't go to bed. He watched as Molly followed Christian up the stairs, the both of them stopping at the top to reunite their lips. They were oblivious to the fact that they were being watched. For a short moment, Mitchel imagined that he was in Molly's position, and Christian was leading him into his room. He knew that it would just make it hurt all that much more, but he didn't care. Mitchel's thoughts were all that he had. Christian was far away, and he'd never be able to reach him, at least not like the girls did. 

And then they were in Christian's room, and Mitchel couldn't see them anymore. The door shut quickly, and that was it. Mitchel turned and flopped onto his bed. He nearly hit his head on the headboard. He laid awake for the rest of the night, and deep into the early morning. The time went by slowly, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything but think of his best friend who was miles away, yet less than fifteen feet down the hall. 

+++ 

Mitchel was out of bed after 1:30 pm. He managed to sleep at seven, and could have been perceived as dead until twelve. When he awoke, he knew that Clinton was gone, and that if his best friend were still home, he'd have to face his girlfriend. He was not sure that he'd be able to face the both of them, knowing what they did the night before. Mitchel attempted to wait until Molly was gone, but eventually his hunger overcame him. 

So, he got up. 

Mitchel did his best to walk as slowly as possible, but eventually he made it down the stairs and Christian saw him. "Mitty!" Christian called. He put down the dishtowel that he was holding, and walked across the room to him. 

Mitchel took a deep breath, then did his best to smile. All of this smiling was starting to hurt his face. "Hey," He said in an awfully fake cheery tone. Christian bought it, though, and lead him into the kitchen. "Molly and I finished eating just now but if you'd like, I can make you something." 

Across the room, Mitchel spotted the short and skinny brunette that Christian called his girlfriend. She was standing on her toes and reaching up, trying to put a glass into the cupboard. "Oh, hey, I'll get it," Christian said, sliding his arm around Molly's petite waist. He took the glass from her and placed it in before closing the door.  

Mitchel almost threw up in his mouth. "No, it's okay, I'm not that hungry, anyway." he said passively, and filled a glass with water. Through the side of his eye, he could see Molly sit on one of the stools at the island. He pursed his lips when he realized that she was wearing one of Christian's t-shirts. The cloth hung off of her shoulders, making her look even tinier than she was. 

"So did you have a good night, last night?" He asked her, mainly to make small talk. Molly nodded, leaning on her elbows. "It was great," she said, and then went on to explaining in detail, the events of their night. Mitchel nodded, adding in a few "wow"s to show he was listening. He wasn't, though. He tuned the woman out, watching as Christian finished cleaning the kitchen. 

He was, however, very aware that Molly left out the climatic (quite literally) ending of their date, after they returned home. That was fine by him. He didn't want to know the details. 

Mitchel was brought out of his thoughts when he heard Christian announce that he was going to go shower. Molly nodded, but Mitchel stood up. He didn't want to be around her any longer, especially alone. 

Mitchel didn't have anything against Molly. Really. He liked her. But at the same time, he hated her, and with a burning passion. She had what was his, though it never was. And that's what hurt the most: knowing that Molly and every other girl that Christian dated could have, and did have what he couldn't. After a while, it chipped at him, and left him very unhappy. Bitter, almost. But no one could blame him, especially with how well as he hid his emotions. It was disheartening after so many years. 

He knew, however, that Christian wasn't an object. People aren't things that you can pick up and put on a shelf. People have feelings. Wants. Needs. Emotions are what make make people human. It's what made Mitchel human. 

Having to contain such a thing as emotions was starting to drive him mad. Only being able express a friendly love towards Christian was difficult, but Mitchel did it for years. He was good at it, and knew that he'd have to keep doing it, at least until Christian felt the same. But he didn't float the same way Mitchel did, and it was starting to look like he'd have to hide his feelings forever. 

"Can I do it?" Mitchel whispered to himself. "Huh?" Molly looked up from her phone. Mitchel's eyes slowly focused, and he realized that he spoke aloud. "Was I thinking out loud?" He asked in alarm. He could feel his dull heartbeat quicken, and his hands sweat. If Molly heard what he was thinking, she'd know everything. His thoughts, his feelings- it would all be out there, and she'd probably tell Christian! And then what? What would he do? How would he feel? Surely he'd be weirded out. Just like before. And he'd start to grow distant again. God, that can't happen, Mitchel thought to himself...

Molly chuckled and shook her head. Her eyes were still bright, her face at ease. "I don't know. What's wrong? What were you thinking about?" She asked. Mitchel breathed a sigh of relief. His heart still raced, and his head felt dizzy. He gripped the island counter with his fingers. They slipped off the heavy marble from all of his sweat. 

Molly furrowed her brows. "Mitchel?" She asked. "God, your face is red! Are you okay?" She got up from her chair and felt his forehead. Mitchel was only dimly aware of her actions. His vision was blurry and he felt sick. He could hear the faint sound of Molly shouting his name under the ringing in his ears. The ring shifted and turned to something else, a tune that he couldn't quite place his finger on. It only got louder, but it never became clearer as if he could hear it under water. 

"What?" He asked, but his voice was barely audible. Why was Molly looking at him like that? With such concern? And why was this song playing in his head? All Mitchel wanted to do was rest his head on the table. Yes, on the nice and cold counter. His eyes slid shut, and he felt the impact of his head meeting the marble with a Bang!