Chapter 15 (The power we hold)

TW: blood, violence?

Mitchel

"Oh my god, Mitchel, it is you!" Molly huffed, her breath coming out in small clouds. She stood a few feet away from him. Mitchel reluctantly sat up, opening his eyes and letting them adjust to the new lighting. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting on the bench, but the sun had traveled across the sky and looked like it was just about ready to head to the south.

His best friend's girlfriend stood before him with her hands on her hips, a thin layer of sweat over her brow. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a light pink visor resting on her head. It took Mitchel a moment to realize that Molly was out on a run.

"Oh, hi," He said weakly and did his best to clear his throat. Molly took one look at him and it was all she needed to raise her brows, a surprised expression forming on her face.

"Are you okay? Jeez, you were crying, Mitchel, weren't you? Is everything okay- oh my god, your hair!" Molly stepped closer and leaned down to help him scrub the stray tears off of his face.

Of course, Molly was on a run. Why wouldn't she be? With his luck, just about everyone Mitchel disliked was bound to come strolling into the park and see him, only to make fun of his tears and mock his hair.

Molly was just about the last person he wanted to see. He hated her before, but ever since that morning, the emotions he harbored for her were immeasurable compared to what he felt then. Christian had already told him how he felt about him and Molly. He would never love Mitchel as long as she was around, and there was nothing he could do about it. He could only continue to watch from afar, staring at the happy couple with glazed eyes as if they were a Disney couple, a match made in heaven.

He couldn't ruin that. He couldn't ruin Christian's happiness. He didn't care about Molly, but Christian cared about her, and that was that.

Molly sat down next to him, pausing her music and placing a friendly hand on his knee.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" She asked. Mitchel shook his head, sniffing a little and averting his eyes. It was embarrassing, really, that she'd caught him crying. But what did he expect, going out on a walk and shedding so many tears? He probably looked like hell.

The sun slowly glid behind a cluster of bluish-purple clouds; its unmistakably bright glow dulling and greying the sky. The spring sunsets were always the prettiest compared to the winter: the bright red sky demanding to be seen under dark blue clouds.

Even though it was early April, the dewy spring air still dropped to cold temperatures in the evening even though they were in L.A. Mitchel could feel it then, the cold nipping at his exposed arms, and the woman he sat next to seemed to notice.

"Hey, come on, Mitchel. You don't have to talk about it, but I'm here." She offered him a small smile. Mitchel squeezed his hands into fists, pressing them at his sides. He didn't know what to do. He had no obligation to let out how he felt to Molly- she was only Christian's girlfriend. But she was also a friend. She tried to be his friend. He could have gone home, but for some reason- maybe it was a point of weakness in him- he nodded slightly.

"Yeah," He said."I think I could talk for a little while." Molly let out a relieved laugh and stood, helping Mitchel up as well.

"Come on", she said, "lets at least get out of the cold."

+++

The two of them walked to Molly's apartment in silence. They said something here and there, but there was a slightly uncomfortable point in time where they couldn't think of anything to talk about until they were inside and closing Molly's door. She headed to her kitchen to get Mitchel a bottle of water, telling him to make himself at home while he made his way to the couch.

He'd never been in Molly's apartment before, but everything about it seemed to be familiar: the way the blankets were folded, the shoes that were lined on the wall as soon as you walked in. Everything had a hint of his best friend on it, from the type of air freshener that Molly used to the boxes of Nuggs in her recycling bin.

(No, Mitchel did not look through her recycling, it was simply left in his line of vision)

Molly came back to Mitchel and tossed him the bottle before he thanked her and set it on the table. She then sat down next to him (but not too close), her hands resting on her knees. She didn't coax anything out of him, didn't pester him with questions. She just sat in silence and let Mitchel gather his thoughts.

It took him the entire walk to her place to decide whether or not he should tell her about what happened. If he didn't, his little trip to her apartment would have been for nothing. However, there was a lot that he just couldn't bear to say aloud. He couldn't tell her just how much he loved his best friend even though he treated him unwell just that morning. He couldn't tell her that they had sex, and most definitely couldn't tell her how Christian had rejected him so harshly. He just couldn't do it.

Finally, Mitchel decided that it would be best to tell her at least a little bit. He could tell her a half-truth. He could describe how he felt but make up the reason why he cried. He could leave Christian out of the story completely, and even have a little fun with it.

So, he started with his hair.

"The braids reminded me of Jordan," He said.

Lie. They reminded him of Christian.

"She used to braid it often, you know."

Truth.

"I mean, yeah, I could have gone back to just having my hair out, but it wouldn't feel right."

Truth.

"And I got tired of it, you know? I just wanted a change. That's why Jesse cut his," He said.

Truth.

Mitchel looked at the woman he hated oh, so much. He offered her a small smile and took a long sip from his water bottle. He watched as she looked at her perfectly manicured nails, tucked a few stray strands behind her ear, glancing out the window at a swooping bird.

Molly was beautiful, he realized. She was beautiful and he'd never even noticed it. How could he not have? He was so focused on Christian that he'd never really looked at Molly with a clear mind.

And that was it. His mind was clear. He could see clearly and think clearly, and take everything in as it was. Molly was beautiful inside and out and Christian loved her.

His smile grew a little wider and he took a sip of water to hide it. Molly looked back at him.

"So why were you so sad?" She asked. It took all of Mitchel's willpower to contain his laugh. He folded his free hand's fingers into a tight fist and clenched it on his thigh. He almost choked on the water.

"Mitchel?" Molly asked, slightly leaning forward.

He couldn't help it. He laughed. It was abrupt and quick. Water dribbled from his lips and Molly raised her eyebrows, leaning away from him.

"You have no fucking idea," Mitchel mumbled. He let out a little giggle and tossed his bottle across the room on the hardwood floor. The half-empty plastic bottle made a disappointingly unsatisfying thud before rolling under the small dining table that stood adjacent to the couch.

"You have no idea how much Christian loves you, and you take him for granted. He pays for your nails, for your food, for your clothes. He does everything for you and you don't even realize it!"

Molly's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She reached forward, saying, "of course I do, Mitchel! What are you talking about? What does this have to do with-"

But Mitchel interrupted the petite girl, jerking his arm away from her before she could lightly place her hand on him. "Don't touch me!" He snapped, his tone a little sharper than he'd wanted it to be.

He didn't know what was going on. All of a sudden he was angry. His emotions were all over the place, and it was exhausting to try and keep them under control all of the time. For once he just wanted to feel how he felt without consequences. Was that too much to ask? Was it too much to take it all out on his best friend's girlfriend?

"Christian loves you unconditionally and you'll never realize it! What the hell did you do to deserve it? You're not as perfect as everyone makes you out to be! So what if you're pretty and smart? So what if you're also vegan and go on runs and-" Mitchel stopped abruptly and bit his lip. The woman that sat in front of him looked at him with wide eyes, hurt and confusion were written all over her face. He wanted so badly to slap that expression off of it.

A dull pain settled into the skin of his fingers and he realized that he'd been picking at them. Liquid crimson ran from the sides of his fingers and cuticles, welling in thick pools before slowly dripping down his fingers. He bit back a surprised gasp and shoved his hands under his legs.

"Mitchel, you need to calm down, okay? I need you to breathe. Christian told me about your anxiety and I just want to help, okay?" Mitchel took a sharp breath before jerking his head up to stare daggers at Molly.

"The fuck do you know about it?" He asked. "That's another thing that I hate about you. You think you know everything, but guess what? You don't." He forced a small laugh. "And you'd be pretty damn surprised about the things you don't know," He told her.

Molly stood up, her hands firm on her hips.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She demanded. Mitchel stared at her with defiant eyes.

"You're gonna wish you never knew it," He sneered and leaned back on the couch.

"Cut the crap, Mitchel," Molly replied. Mitchel gritted his teeth. "Fine," He said simply. "I've known Kras forever, and there was not one day that I didn't love him."

As soon as he said it, he felt a strange wave of relief wash over him. He'd been keeping that secret for years, and for the second time that day, he told someone. He felt light and strong and like he was finally in control.

It was evident by her expression that Molly wasn't picking up what he was putting down. "I've wanted to be with Christian since we were fourteen, and to this day, I still want him." he elaborated.

"Wait, what?" Molly asked. "You like Christian?" It only took a moment for her to fit the puzzle pieces together, and her expression darkened. "You liked him the entire time? Does he know? Is that why he kissed you so much?"

"Of course he fucking knows," Mitchel snapped. "And that's not even the best part," He said, pulling off his shirt. "He says he loves you so much, yet it hasn't even been 24 hours since he fucked me," He finished, tossing his shirt onto the coffee table that stood next to the two of them. Molly's water bottle was knocked over and spilled, but the both of them didn't bother to care.

The small woman's eyes widened as she took in the sight of his bare chest, a series of deep red marks covering his chest, waist, and hips. "You're not serious," she breathed, not taking her eyes off of him. Mitchel stood and towered over her, an angry smirk on his face.

"You'd better believe it," He spoke, stepping forward and spreading his arms. Molly backed away until her legs hit the kitchen counter. Mitchel still stood over her, not even ten inches away, pinning her to the counter.

"After you left yesterday, he got right to kissing me and feeling me up. And then at night, I went to his room. I didn't even have to ask, he was practically waiting for me to get there," He cooed, his mouth only inches from her ear.

"No," Molly said, shaking her head. "He'd never do that. He said it himself, he'd never do that to me," she rambled. Mitchel let out a low chuckle. "How pathetic," He said. "You had to force it out of him? Did it ever occur to you that he'd lie to you? Well, I've got the marks to prove it." He grabbed ahold of her wrist and forced her fingers to trace the marks on his skin.

"This," he said and pulled Molly's stiff hand to a hickey on his collarbone, "is what he left after the third round," He told her. "I'm sure you already know what he sounded like, right?" He asked, a large smile stretching the skin of his face. When Molly didn't reply, he pulled her hand upwards to wrap around his neck. He smiled devilishly as he let out a series of exaggerated moans and groans, his mouth inches from her ear.

Molly yanked her hand out of Mitchel's grasp and pushed him away. He stumbled and almost fell as Molly yelled at him to shut up, tears running down her face.

He hadn't realized that she'd been crying, but the sight sent chills over his body. He hadn't realized how satisfying it would be to see her cry. As her tears fell to the floor, a familiar sound rose in the back of his head. With every step he took closer to the small brunette, the sound got louder and louder.

Finally, he squatted down to her level, watching with a blank face as she cried into her hands.

"Why the fuck are you crying?" He asked. "You have everything I can't have, you ungrateful bitch."

When she didn't reply, Mitchel sighed in annoyance and grabbed her chin, jerking her face up so he could see her clearly. The song blared in his head and he could no longer hear his thoughts. He couldn't hear the sound of Molly sobbing, and for the first time in a long time, he hated the sound of his song. It was ruining the moment.

"Look at me," He couldn't hear himself say. His voice came out soft and sad, and it was enough to make Molly search for his eyes with resentment. Mitchel clicked his tongue.

"You're so melodramatic," He said. "How do you think I feel? The love of my life rejected me for you," He said.

The irony was that Mitchel didn't even know how he felt. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel. Did he even feel anything at all?

It was as if his brain shut off. People often talk about how they have body experiences, often when something traumatic happens. That's what happened to Mitchel. It was as if he watched what happened from afar. Maybe he watched it at a movie theatre, eating buttery popcorn and licking the salty remains off of his fingers.

It was as if it were a movie. Molly lashed out. She pushed him away and threw wild punches at him even though she was weak from the shock. Mitchel allowed himself to take a few hits, just to see how it felt

(spoiler alert: it felt like nothing).

Molly scrambled to her feet and yelled at him. Mitchel yelled back. Molly threw whatever she could find at him. A vase. A book. A mug. Glass smashed on the floor, barely missing his head. She reached in her drawers with full intention to injure him. She threw a few forks. A plate. And then a knife. It nicked his shoulder. He picked it up without much thought and lunged at her. She was out of options.

And Mitchel was numb. He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't stop himself. Molly had no chance. Her fate was decided as soon as she saw Mitchel in the park. As soon as she approached him and he agreed to follow her home.

Her heart bled red just as Mitchel's did. She bled on the kitchen tiles. Her red blood covered Mitchel's fingers and bare chest. He stared at her blankly, his song, Red Blood playing in his head.