#mitch-tober

As soon as the elevator doors opened, you quickly ran inside, trying to balance the two coffee cups in your hands without spilling anything. And as you pressed the number of your destination about ten times, the man next to you quirked an eyebrow. 

“Stupid thing.” You mumbled and the man coughed, making you look at him. “I already pressed that button.” 

Your eyes went wide, mostly in embarrassment and you looked away quickly. Not wanting to look him in the eye. Way to start off the day by making yourself look like a nutjob in front of a co-worker. Maybe you should've just taken the stairs. Although your body would highly disagree because of your poor stamina. Maybe you should take use of your gym membership like you always said you would. 

“You new here?” He asked and you nodded as the doors closed. Your eyes were focussing on the numbers of the elevator floors. “That obvious huh?” You tried to make a joke out of it and laughed nervously, but it quickly faded when you read his unamused expression. His eyes were an amber color, standing neutral yet stern and his hair was in a messy cut as it fitted his scruff beard. His face basically described someone saying 'really?' annoyed with their eyebrows scrunched, and you looked away at the elevator doors as the stranger did the same.

You sighed while mumbling in your breath and the stranger scratched the back of his neck, before silence took over. Just 3 minutes in an elevator with a handsome man with uncomfortable tension in the air, and you’ll be up, no problem. 

As you heard the pings of the floors that passed, you noticed the man eyeing you from the side. Something that made your nerves go up since you thought he was judging you by the second. It’s always been bothering you, that everytime people would look at you, you’d assume they’d think the worst of you. Luckily, the man seemed to notice, and he turned his head to the elevator doors again, scraping his throat.

“Sorry if I seemed rude.” 

You looked at your side, your eyes meeting his shoulder so you looked up, noticing the height difference. “Oh, you weren't rude, I’m clumsy. Guess I’m just kinda paranoid since it’s the first day. I’m not late, I just want to make a good impression. And as you can see I don’t handle elevators well. God, I don’t even know why I’m in here, I could've just taken the stairs but I didn’t want to meet my superiors while being all sweaty. Although I already feel like I’m soaked right now. Jeez, it’s hot in here.” Your hands were starting to get sweaty when you rambled to the stranger, and he still had his eyebrows raised a little. Inside you could mentally slap yourself. Of course that would be his reaction. If a random girl would suddenly ramble shit, you’d be like ‘what the fuck is going on’, no surprise that his reaction would be the same.

“It’s totally fine, don’t worry too much about it, alright? We’re almost up.” He caught you off guard as he gave you a genuine smile. Something that made you feel relieved that he answered calmly and this time you were the one scrunching your eyebrows up in confusion. Most times you weren’t this hyper, yet people still gave you looks that asked you to kindly fuck off. So this was new.

“So you need to be on the 9nth floor as well?” The stranger asked and you nodded slowly. “Yeah, I have a meeting with my superiors and other co-workers, you?”

“Same, so your superior must be Stan Hurley too, right?” You nodded and looked at the cups in your hands. “Yeah I brought him coffee, I hope it gives off a good impression.”

The man next to you looked at the cups as well, and you didn't realize he was really close to you. “You’re playing a dangerous game, what coffee did you get for him?”

“I got myself latte espresso with steamed milk, and I got Stan a Red Eye.”

The man beside you seemed to be impressed, making you feel relieved that you made the right order. “That’s his usual, how did you know that?”

 “His biography was on google,” You shrugged and he had an amused look on his face. “Wow... That’s actually smart.”

“Yeah, I felt like a stalker though. Anyway, everything to make a good impression.” 

“Can’t disagree with that.”

Both of you laughed and It actually felt nice to have a conversation with a stranger like him. Even though you kept thinking they would judge you, it could just be a friendly ear who might just become a friend. 

Maybe this first day isn’t gonna be as bad as you thought after all.

That’s until you heard a rattling sound and you felt the elevator slow down.

It was like the elevator jolted up before shutting down completely, and both of you snapped your heads up to the noise. The lights were still on, everything seemed normal but the one thing that made you know something was up, was that you couldn’t hear the sounds of the shaft moving. 

“What just happened?” You blinked and looked around. “I dunno?” The man took three steps forward, until he reached the buttons and inspected them as his face went close. “I think the elevator stopped?”

The words he spoke were enough for you to make a red light pop up in your brain, and you chuckled anxiously. “You’re kidding, right?”

He pressed the button to the 9th floor, but nothing happened. The only sound you could hear were scraping sounds, as if the elevator wanted to go up, but stuttered. The stranger turned around, his face in a confused look, and your heart felt like it stopped as your breathing hitched.

“No, no no no. Oh my god.” You mumbled as he tried it again for the third time, yet no luck. And the red light formed into panic in your head. “Try something, try pressing the open door button instead of the floor button?” He did what you suggested, again no reaction and you felt like you were getting dizzy, like anxiety knocked on your door.

“Why won’t it open? Are we stuck? Oh god.”

You started to feel light in your head, and dizziness started to form.

“Woah woah, easy easy alright. It’s probably just some malfunction, I’m sure the problem will be fixed soon.” The man was suddenly in front of you, holding your upper arms to keep you steady and your eyes darted around as you felt your chest tighten. “I am claustrophobic, I don’t even know why I took the elevator. Oh my god I’m gonna faint.”

“No, don't faint. If you’re gonna faint I’ll just have to faint as well, and that’s not gonna be fun for anyone. Just look at me alright? Focus on me. Look me in my eyes.” 

As the words rolled out of his mouth, your eyes moved to his, and you noticed there was a sweet and understanding look on his face. The lighting of the elevator also made his face brighter, his amber eyes now looking more like a honey color, making your breathing slow down a little bit. Yet, the tightness in your chest didn’t fade. 

You didn’t even feel the stranger take over the coffee cups and place them on the ground.

“Everything is gonna be okay, alright? I'll see if there is some way to connect ourselves to the maintenance downstairs, who can help us.” His eyes moved along the lines of the numerous buttons, and eventually settled on the yellow bell. The alarm button.

He gave you one more look of reassurance before turning around to the yellow button. He pressed it, both of you waiting in anticipation, and you started to feel as if the elevator doors were closing in on you, as if you were huddled in a tight little space. 

“Just look at the floor, not the walls… Just look at the floor, not the walls...” you mumbled to yourself as you looked at your feet. Everything looked like it was a little blurry as black spots appeared in your vision, and a ringing sound suddenly reached your ears. Shivers ran down your spine and you kept mumbling the same sentence over and over again on a loop. 

You probably looked like a lost kid now, and in truth, You were. Well, you felt like one.

“Alright, it gave a signal to the people in the building. These people know what to do, they’re trained to know what to do if an elevator gets stuck. We’ll be out in no time, and even if it’s worse than we thought, they’ll contact an elevator service technician to get us out.” The voice was dragged out. You couldn’t even hear the last words he spoke as the sounds around you were replaced with a high pitched sound. Black spots that were present just now, were starting to get bigger, and the pressure in your head felt larger. It felt like you were faltering. 

Your hands reached out to try and grasp something as everything went fully black, but it was too late as you fell on the floor, your side burning as you went.

“Holy shit!”

The last thing you remember is laying on the ground, wanting to open your eyes, yet everything stayed black.

-

“Look at me, you’re okay.”

“Hey, you’re okay.” You heard a voice say and your sight slowly reappeared as his face came into sight. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

You heard him chuckle a little, and as your sight was vividly clear again, you could see a look of worry on his face. “What happened?”

You coughed, your headache fading and you looked around to see you were still in the elevator, unfortunately. You hoped you were able to redo this day and choose to go with the stairs. Even though you wouldn't have had a conversation with the strange man if you’d taken the stairs, you wouldn’t have been in an elevator that was stuck.

“Elevators suck.” You mumbled and the man laughed at your retort. “Yes, they do.”

You then noticed he was crouching in front of you, and you thought he must’ve guided you to sit down slowly against the wall of the elevator, after you fainted. 

“That fall was pretty nasty. Are you hurt?” He checked your face quickly for any bruises or scratches from the walls, and you then felt a sting in your side. Like it was burning.

“Only my side, I think I fell against the railing at the button section.” You lifted your shirt up a little, and as you shifted your hips, you saw a purple-ish bruise. You groaned, remembering that you would go to the beach with a friend of yours on the weekend, knowing the bruise would be  noticeable.

He looked at your side before sitting down next to you and he inspected the bruise as your breath hitched.

“It’s not that bad luckily, although I’m afraid you will have to carry that for a couple of days" 

The stranger smiled lightly and that’s when you realized you hadn’t even introduced yourself. It’s nice to know someone on the first day of work, but it’s better if you know a name to pronounce them.

“By the way, you never told me your name” You questioned in yourself but apparently you talked out loud. Probably because of the aftershock of fainting, you were still trembling. 

The man held out a hand for you to shake and you happily obliged. “I’m Mitch.” 

You looked at him again, seeing a different view of him after he said his name, and you smiled. Mitch suited him.

“Y/n.” 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl." He winked and had a grin plastered on his face. "Get out of here with the cheesiness." You playfully said to him, slightly swatting his knee and you felt heat radiate from your cheeks. Looking down again to try and cover them up with your hair, although he undoubtedly already noticed.

The two of you sat there in silence. A sigh escaped your lips as your eyes wandered to his form. Since there was a meeting, He wore an all black suit, something that wasn’t really casual, it was rather fancy. And it was then you noticed it looked good. He looked good. Like, really good. His side profile was in your view as you looked at him, and you didn’t even realize you were starting to zone out, until Mitch started speaking and snapped you out of your trance.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you actually faint?” You thought about the day everything started. It required some digging in your memories you had buried, but thinking about it now, it all came flooding back.

“That’s a long story.” 

You didn’t know if he wanted to hear it, since you were afraid you’d ramble the whole bible to him. Anytime when people would show interest in the subject, you’d explain it to them, but then they would wander off or pretend they cared. You could easily see it in their faces. 

But he had a slight smirk on his face and chuckled.

“Well, we have all the time. I’m listening, I promise.” He folded his hands on his crossed legs, and kept looking you in your eyes. Making you look down, before you opened up to him. 

“When I was 8, I was playing hide and seek with other girls from my class. It was hosted by a classmate from school at his house, and the whole class came. And so we decided to play hide and seek inside the house. I decided to hide inside the closet. But when I sat there for minutes, no one came. I was pumped because I wanted to win, but after half an hour, no one came. I waited and waited for three hours. So eventually I shouted for help, tried to pry my way out of the closet but it wouldn't budge. No one heard my cries, because it turned out they went outside. I felt like I was trapped, like there was tightness in my chest, I couldn't breathe. And as I kept crying, after 3 hours and 20 minutes, an adult heard me and freed me.”

He didn’t have to be Einstein to know why you couldn’t get out of the closet, and Mitch felt bad as he saw your expression sadden as you told your story. All the memories came crashing down on you again, and it felt like you were in the exact same place and moment like you were when you were a little kid. You thought you were ready to open up to people, yet everytime you would talk about it, it felt like you were trapped again, your voice cracking. Maybe you overestimated yourself, maybe talking about it was still relatively hard to process.

As you looked slowly at your side, Mitch was in the same position as he was before, only his gaze that lingered on you was a little more sad. Like he had empathy and you immediately coughed. “Sorry, that was depressing, it happened 16 years ago, I feel stupid for still being hung up about it. Sorry-” before you could finish your sentence, Mitch interrupted you and shuffled a little closer.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty for telling your story, and you shouldn’t feel sorry for feeling sorry for yourself. As a kid it’s traumatizing to go through something like that. Of course that would stick with you.” His words were well thought out, like there was a tone of understanding, yet something was still gnawing at you.

“I just feel ashamed. There are people who have gone through way more shit than I did, and I still act like the world is ending.”

"Just because someone else may have it worse, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to feel sad sometimes. Everyone has fears, it’s inevitable. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

He leaned in, and for a second it looked like he was trying to reach for your hand, but he hesitated at the last second. He subtly pulled his hands away, placing them back on his knees and you decided not to pay too much attention to it. “Have you got any?” 

“Yeah, mine is terrifying,” he let out a laugh, putting emphasis on ‘terrifying’ while wiggling his eyebrows and biting his lip. 

“And what may that be?” 

He didn’t answer, instead he just looked in front of him, as if he was thinking really hard.

“Well?”

“Well, I’m afraid of…" He lingered on his last words before squinting his eyes. “...spiders?”

His words were dragged out and you snorted. “That sounded really convincing,”

Mitch’s posture changed as if he was caught in the act, and he sighed with a tiny bit of guilt in his face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry, thanks for trying to reassure me, it’s been a while since someone did that for me.”

The thought of him trying to cheer you up a bit, was a small gesture, yet it felt like opening a christmas gift. Even though he hardly knew you, he cared. And it seemed as if that thought hit something within you, making a tear slip and roll over your cheek.

As much as you tried to hold it in, hold it together, more tears followed and you bit your lip, inhaling deeply to try and contain yourself. 

Why was it so damn hard to just keep it together?

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just, I feel like I haven't cried in weeks and all my bottled up emotions are spilling out right now. I'm starting a new job in a new town, so I haven’t really had anyone to talk to or hold either or whatever, so- what are you doin-” Before you knew it, warmth surrounded your body as Mitch’s arms were around you, and you could smell his cologne as your eyes went wide. “Oh- oh okay...this is-”

“-Shh, shut up.”

“Okay...”

Your surprised look faltered as your eyes closed, and your arms wove around his body to hug him back, your chin resting on his shoulder. This was exactly what you needed, to hold someone close and to just vent out whatever you buried deep inside of you.

“Hey Mitch?”

"Yeah?" 

“Thank you,” You whispered and smiled through your tears. “For listening.” His hands were on the back of your head, playing with your hair as you heard his voice vibrate throughout your whole body.

"Of course." He held you close for a little longer before he decided to break the contact. “You’re sweaty, ew.” His playful tone made you snort, and when both of you pulled back, he wiped away some stray tears that were still sitting on your cheeks. 

The two of you sat there in silence. Just savoring this moment. 

You then noticed something in the corner of the elevator, and as your eyes diverted to it, you saw the two coffee cups sitting neatly on the floor. You were glad that Mitch had put them on the ground just before you fell, because if he didn't, it would've spilled everywhere and ruined your outfit. Facing your superior with a big stain in your blazer, would totally not give the right impression, and having to go to the ER for burn wounds, wasn’t really a fun trip either. 

You reached out for the cups and grabbed yours, surprised that it was still warm, and you took a few sips of your latte when you crawled back to the spot next to Mitch. He watched as you took a few sips, and you then looked at the other cup in front of you, and asked if Mitch wanted the Red Eye. "Uh, well, yeah it would be nice, I guess, but what about Sta-" "-It's fine, really. I mean, it's getting cold and I don't think giving a cold coffee to your superior is a way to make a good impression." You gave a little smile, grabbed the cup out of the cardboard cup holder and handed it over to him.

"Thanks." He grabbed the cup from your hand and immediately took a big swing. Something he regretted after, since his face scrunched up and he coughed a little after he swallowed his mouthful of coffee. "Oh, wow. That's- that's really strong. Now I get why his blood pressure is always sky high." 

You cracked out the loudest laugh yet this day, and looked around once again in the small room. “I hope for you there aren’t any cameras in this elevator to record that, otherwise you’d be the one playing a dangerous game.” He chuckled at the sentence you used against him, and laughter once again filled the air around you. That’s until everything went silent, and you knew he was gonna say something more serious.

“I don’t understand why those girls did what they did when you were 8, you’re a really kind person.” 

Both of you took another sip of your coffee. Some foam of your latte on your upper lip and you rubbed it away with your tongue.

“Yeah well, they never really liked me. No one really did. After all, I was just an energetic hyper ball that would ramble everywhere I went. It’s not as bad as it was before, but sometimes I just freak out and then I’m 8 again. Just scared shitless, I guess this is just my way of coping when I’m nervous.”

“I like that about you.” His eyes went to yours to make eye contact, and you happily looked back.

“You do?”

“Yeah.” 

Well that’s a first.

He had a cheeky grin and licked his lips. 

“You’re not like other girls.”

“Okay shut up, you ruined the moment.” Even though he had a playful sound in his voice, you gave him a light push to his shoulder and you both laughed. That’s until the cheeky grin changed into a knowing smirk.

“Moment huh?” The little shit was enjoying this. He was enjoying seeing you flustered and you swallowed hard, looking everywhere except his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Heat spread across your cheeks again. “There is something.” 

Biting his lip, he scratched his jaw and looked at your form, grinning widely after he noticed something and you frowned.

“You stopped trembling.”

You looked down, indeed seeing that you weren’t trembling and your face that held confusion, didn’t change one bit as you looked around. The fear of the small space didn’t even reach to you the past couple of minutes, and you then faced Mitch again, gaping at him like a fish.

“How did you manage to do that?” He simply shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee.

“What can I say? It’s my charm, the ladies love it.”

He shot you another wink, and you felt something in the pit of your stomach. Not a feeling that wanted you to throw up, but the feeling in your stomach you haven’t felt in years. A nice one. It was like your stomach was doing twists and rolls, in a good way.

He seemed to notice your state after the wink, and the little shit almost had a grin like the cheshire cat. Having to contain yourself not to smile as well, you rolled your eyes and snorted.  

“Well, I’m not like the other ladies” 

“Shut up.”

Right after both of you cracked a laugh again, you felt another jolt of the elevator, before you could hear the shaft and your eyes shot up. It indicated that the maintenance manager managed to fix the problem,  “Mitch, I think the elevator moved again.” You told your companion but all you heard was him groaning. 

“Mitch-” You looked at your side and your mouth went wide as you saw a small stain on his pants. Turns out he held his coffee in his hands as the elevator jolted, and a few hot droplets landed on his pants.

“Shit, are you okay?” You held in a laugh and he nodded as he burst out laughing too.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a small stain.”

“Shit, uhh.” you felt the need to help him, but you knew a coffee stain was most likely permanent. “I can make it up to you. Let me make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me?” He had an amused look on his face, and the both of you stood up from your seating position. He looked at the stain on his thigh, and he then looked back at you.

“Yeah, I know a stain like that probably won’t come out, I can pay you back, or-” 

“-I know a way for you to make it up to me” Your eyes that diverted when you were thinking about ways to fix it, now shot back up to look at Mitch, and it felt like your eyes were glued to his face. “What did you have in mind?”

He rubbed his hands together, smiling.

“We should go out sometime.”

“We should?"

“Yeah,” Now it was your time to smirk, your eyes standing playful as you cocked your head. “You sure you can handle my energetic ass? You know I’ll probably ramble the whole bible to you.”

“Yeah I know,” He grinned, “and I’ll happily listen.”

That’s the moment when you both heard a pinging sound, indicating you were at your destination, and at the same time, both your heads turned around. 

“We’re here, floor 9.”

The doors of the elevator opened, the both of you wanting to walk out, but at that moment, you were stopped by a voice.

“Mitch, Y/n, where have you been? The meeting ended already, I- Mitch, you have a stain on your pants.” A man stood on the other side of the elevator, and you recognized him as Stan Hurley, your new superior. His voice was not mad, but you could easily hear the irritation in his voice, and see his unamused face. Before he could say anything more though, Mitch was quick to explain everything to him about the elevator being stuck.

Stan’s irritated face expression slowly turned into an understanding one, and he then looked at you. “Sorry to hear you both were stuck, but happy to know you both can get to work now. Hurry up.” Before both of you could say anything further, he already walked away. But Mitch said something just before.

"By the way, Stan, your taste in coffee is horrible."

Stan, who was now walking down the hall, turned his head around to shoot Mitch a look of confusion before turning back around. And you laughed at Mitch’s retort. 

So far, you've been having an amazing time. Mitch enjoyed not quite having to worry about work, though the thoughts were always still lingering in his mind, and tagged along happily on everything you’ve planned so far. This morning, instead of eating breakfast from the resort’s buffet like you had every other morning so far, you decided to go eat brunch at one of the many café’s you’d seen lining the bustling streets.

The entire morning, just the same as the previous days, you and Mitch were unable to stop smiling. It gave you so much joy when the sunlight glinted off your rings, listening to the babel of the customers around you as you dug into your food. That was something you were going to miss when you left; how delicious everything tasted. In fact, you would miss everything about this city and it’s offerings. Its beauty, the kind people who lived here, the pure amazement that never left you. But all good things eventually came to an end, didn’t they?

You were finishing up your meals when it happened. At first, the screaming went unnoticed in the chatter, but as the gunfire bled into the sounds, you began to panic. You dropped your glass, which had once been filled with a mimosa, as the bullets splintered the wooden beams that held up the awning you were under, Mitch taking your hand and pulling you into the restaurant.

He knew you should’ve gone somewhere else. Somewhere safe. He knew he should’ve listened to his gut when it nearly screamed at him to take you somewhere else - anywhere else. But he couldn’t stop himself from agreeing, simply wanting to please his wife-to-be at the time. Mitch was regretting taking you to Buenos Aires, but not as badly as he would be soon.

With his rough hand clasped in yours, Mitch tried to lead you away from the gunfire, pushing past the restaurant patrons and skirting around tables and fallen chairs. The safest spot for the both of you that he had seen was behind the bar, and right now, that was his end goal. He tugged on your hand gently every few seconds, making sure you were right behind him. Thoughts of the last time something like this had happened, the exact reason why he was hesitant to go on a honeymoon in the first place, flashed quickly through his mind. He couldn’t let that happen to you, too. He wouldn’t. He didn’t know what he would do with himself if you died…

And, as if his thoughts conjured reality, Mitch felt a tug on his hand, your weight slowing him to a stop. Quickly, he turned, praying that nothing bad had happened to you. Oh, how wrong he was.

You stood in front of Mitch, paralyzed amidst the chaos with eyes as wide as saucers. It was like you had yet to realize what happened. But Mitch knew. He knew what happened as soon as the crimson color he hated with every fibre of his being started to stain the white blouse that you had carefully chosen to wear that morning, spreading like a wildfire that ate up every good thing in his life without a second thought.

It was seconds after your eyes caught onto the blood that you collapsed, gravity pulling your hand from your husbands.

“No. No, no, no, no,” he pleaded. “No. Not you, too,”

He fell to his knees, too, before helping you roll painfully onto your back. “Just-just hang on for me, honey, okay?” He nodded to himself before wrapping his hands around your wrists, pulling you to safety behind the bar, willfully ignoring your groans and winces of pain. Propping you up against the underside of the bar, he immediately pressed his hands to your stomach, eyes as wide as yours had once been.

“Mitch…” you whispered, resting a hand on his. “Mitch, baby, look at me.”

His eyes snapped to yours, heart stuttering at how sickly you’d manage to turn in a matter of moments. Your eyes were sullen and tired, darkening in comparison to your paling skin. The rise and fall of your chest was noticeable and panic-inducingly slow. Mitch wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Not yet. Not ever.

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered, feeling your breathing becoming more and more labored as the seconds passed. “I-I know that you were- were scared to do this, and now look at me…”

“Hey, no, don’t say that. You’re gonna make it.” He promised, but you both knew he was lying. Whether it was to assure you or himself, he wasn’t sure.

“Mitch…” your voice was fading. You were fading. “Hold me. Please.”

Quickly, your husband nodded, retracting his bloodied hands from your wound and shifting so that you were sitting on his lap, one arm around your shoulders so the other could keep the pressure. Your legs splayed out before you, you relished in the way Mitch cradled your body to his.

He looked down at you through a wall of tears, watching the wistful smile form on your face as you held up your pinky. The action caused a laugh to bubble up in his throat before he cleared it, doing his best to blink the water from his eyes. Removing the hand from your wound, Mitch intertwined your pinky fingers, feeling the crack in his heart deepen with every moment.

You shook your hand, smiling as you choked out, in a raspy voice, “‘Till death do we part, baby,”

Mitch’s breath caught in his throat at your words, still bringing himself to deny that, in every sense of the word, were dying. Lifting your intertwined fingers to your lips, you pressed a final kiss there, and so did Mitch. It was your own way of promising things to one another, a bond that neither of you would break, no matter the cost.

You felt yourself slipping away, fading from life, more and more every second. As you did, you wondered what would happen next. Was it like sleeping? Would you get to choose what happens? Could you get the chance to move on, or would you be able to watch over Mitch? Oh, God, what would happen to Mitch? There was no coming back from this, not for him. You’d spent four blissful years together, and only eleven of those nearly 1,500 days were you married.

Every inch of your body felt tired, replacing the searing pain you felt just minutes ago. This was it for you. It took every ounce of energy for you to keep your eyes open, to keep looking at the love of your life. At Mitch, cradling your body as he tried his best to hold himself together with his pinky locked in yours.

But, at some point, you just couldn’t. Your body was catching up with itself, slowly shutting down. Your fight was over, and there was nothing anyone could do to save you now. Your eyes fluttered closed and your breathing slowed, but before your final moment, you were given a last gift from your lover. A featherlight kiss pressed to your lips, as light as the one to your intertwined pinkies. The final goodbye was all you needed to slip away, once and for all.

Mitch heard your last breath fall from your lips, watched your eyes close moments before, and your chest stop moving moments after. With your pinkies still entwined, Mitch allowed himself to fall apart, sitting on the floor of a shot-up café, cradling you in his arms and refusing to let go.

‘Till Death Do We Part.

Forever taglist: @simonsbluee @reeseswritings @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @queen-asteria04

Mitch Rapp taglist: open!

“I’m not ill.” You muttered, stirring at the tea in your mug gently, and Mitch only snorted in response, your eyes narrowing on him as you turned to look at him. “I’m not.”

“Sure, sure.” He nodded, leaning back against the counter, raising his one mug to his lips as you tapped the spoon against the edge, before placing it down on the counter. You hummed, the sound cracking a little as you did, and he smirked into his cup, you could tell by the crinkle at the sides of his eyes. “So, you’re drinking what exactly?”

“Uh, tea.” You smiled falsely, picking up your mug possessively and snatching it closer to yourself when he leaned over to take a look inside, and you shot him a false glare. “With lemon. And a little honey. And no tea.”

“So, you’re having hot honey and lemon?” He grinned, eyebrows raising once again as he teased you, and you scoffed, sitting down at the counter. Sniffling as quietly as you could, Mitch nudged the tissues over to you from the end of the counter, and you ignored the gesture, because ignoring it made you hope your threatening sickness would go away. “You know, nobody would blame you if you just took a day off. Or a few. You work hard.”

“Oh, and let you keep working, so you get an edge on me?” Taking a sip of your drink, you winced, the hot water already hard for you to swallow as the back of your throat had begun to swell up, even without the added heat you were hoping would soothe it. “I don’t think so, Rapp. I want to hold my reputation here.”

“I think you’ll be able to cling onto it, anyway. Besides, isn’t it our reputation? We’re supposed to be a team.” He pouted falsely, legs carrying him across the took, sitting next to you on the stool at the counter, and you huffed. Everything had already seemed exhausting today, simply getting up and getting yourself ready had been a chore. Leaning over, you rested your cheek against his shoulder, sighing as the muscles flexed a little under your face, face slipping to rest closer on his chest as his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

Your cheeks warmed a little, the smell of cologne leaking off of him, but it wasn’t fresh. No, this was a subtle smell, the special aftershave that he reserved only for days when he knew he wasn’t going to sweat it all straight off on a day of training, but it tended to linger for days. You allowed yourself a few more minutes, his fingers smoothing up and down your arm softly, a comforting act that you wanted to sink right into, and let yourself remain in all day, all week, or for however long he would have you.

“I seriously think you should go back to bed.”

“I seriously think I should go for my run.” You scoffed, the moment cracking as you refused to let the tickle in the back of your throat become anything more than that. You were an assassin, you were a badass, you didn’t get sick. A slight chill wasn’t going to bring you down, if a bullet didn’t, then the flu wouldn’t either.

“You’re going to go for a run? Is that about proving that you’re not sick?” You stuck your tongue out at him, the stretch of the muscle pulling on your sore throat, and as you pushed yourself up from the counter, taking a final large chug of your herbal remedy. Standing up and letting the ache in your knees fade away, you stretched them out a little, a few subtle movements on the spot as you tried to break action back into stuff muscles.

“No, I’m going for a run to stay in shape.” Lifting your arms up and over your head, your neck rolled from side to side, a series of loud clicks sounding out, and your jaw dropped a little at the unexpected noise. His brows rose, and you shook your head at him. “It doesn’t mean anything. I probably just slept funny.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.” You mocked him, rolling your shoulders and he simply watched you, twisting a little more in his seat. The first of the recruits were filing in, eyes still lidded with sleep as two began to clatter with pots and pans, the dull throbbing headache you’d woken with not feeling comforted by the sounds, and you huffed. “You and me. Sparring, later. It’s been weeks, and you’re probably getting rusty.”

“I’m getting rusty at sparring like you’re getting sick.”

“I don’t like you very much.” Your eyes narrowed on him, stepping backwards in two large reverse lunges, stretching out the muscles of your thighs as you did, and Mitch hid his chuckle in his coffee.

“Tight yoga pants. Nice.” The voice wasn’t Mitch’s, and it certainly wasn’t Stan’s, and he would never make a comment like that either. Standing up straight, fast as a bolt of lightning, your head whipped around. The ache seemed to be gone, the flaming heat of embarrassment coating your cheeks once again. You gaped, staring between the recruits who’s eyes were now wide, gripping his cup, halfway to his mouth, and he seemed frozen. “I, uh-”

“‘I- uh-’ shut up. You just earned yourself extra laps.” You scoffed, and the recruit only nodded, waling away in fast steps as the one cooking eggs at the stove snickered at his friend’s embarrassment. Turning back to Mitch, your brows still risen high and your lips parted, Mitch only shrugged, but there was a frown sitting on his face now.

“He’s not wrong.” His eyes scanned down you, frown becoming a teasing smirk once again, and you grabbed your phone from the counter, tucking it securely into the pocket on your hip once you’d untangled the wires of your headphones. “Nice.”

“You’re a pig, and I hate you. I’m leaving.”

“Enjoy your run.” He waved, standing up himself, long enough to dispose of the rest of his coffee in the sink and place his mug there, clearing yours away. The sight was the last you caught of him and the two earliest recruits, before turning your back. The sun had already come up, an early rising morning but the air was still holding a chill. It was enough to make you shover once the door was open, but soon enough, once your feet started pounding the dirt and you started to sweat, it’d be perfectly temperate.

Recruits were milling around the place, already, beginning to wake up into their mornings and get ready for a day of training. You remembered being one of them, setting your alarm for half an hour before the sun ever rose just so you’d be able to get a little privacy at the showers. You and one other had been the only women in your group when you’d arrived, and she’d dropped out only a few weeks in, unable to take the pressure.

It was the same time you’d met Mitch. One year later, arguing before the sun ever came up over the horizon as he arrived halfway through the recruitment group year, over who was going to get to shower first.

You didn’t miss the queues you were seeing now, steam rising up from inside of the building as the men and women huddled outside, towels over their arms and wash-bags in their hands.

The farm had always been beautiful in the mornings, there were times on your days off that you’d gotten up early enough just to sit on the porch and watch the sunrise, coming over the tops of tall trees and spilling golden light over the countryside. Despite everything that happened here, and everything that it made people into, it was still beautiful. There was something unnerving about the contrast, seeing the beauty a place could hold but the horrors it had seen.

The rooms were marred, the pathways were scared, and hidden behind every beauty was a tragic tale, that all brought forth the serene obliviousness of the rest of the world.

The trail you were following faded away into the woods, and once you knew that you’d finally cleared the sights of everyone else, that you were alone for one of the fleeting moments you were ever able to grasp. The trees were shadowing overhead, a degree lower than the open air of the rising sun, and your brisk walk came to a steady stop. The rapid and beating drum of your running playlist was beating away in your eardrums, a lower volume than usual as not to aggravate your headache, which only seemed to be getting worse instead of going away.

Now, you took time to really stretch. Every muscle was aching and sore, the same way you felt when you had worked a long day in the ring with recruits trying to teach them the unpredictability of sparring, or how you felt on the plane after returning from an assignment which had given you a real beating. The only issue was, when you felt like this, you usually ended up with a friend. Slumped out on the couch with Mitch, who felt equally as crappy, and you had a buddy to sulk with.

Now, you simply felt like you were falling behind, like you were going to be left in the dust. Everything you had worked so hard to prove about being here, about demanding respect from the same male recruits who felt it appropriate to make comments about your yoga pants or your sport bras or the way you threw a punch was going to be undone. You hated the feeling of falling behind, and getting sick just wasn’t an option.

Your hands were on your hips, and you were stretching weakly, legs flexing up behind your back as you stared at the trail ahead. Four miles, all around, through the bumpy and uneven countryside, marked with the fences and bands painted to guide you. Your usual route, and yet suddenly it was feeling overly daunting.

Chasing the thoughts away, you set off, starting the journey with a slow jog as you forced yourself to pick up the pace, building up to a speedy run as you broke into your exercise for the day. Your heart was pounding, deep breaths that filled your lungs to the maximum with the clean country air, and you were already feeling better as you left the farm further and further behind. The way you felt was exhilarating, a thrill you were constantly chasing, bursting through you and lighting up every nerve.

You felt so much better, and so you picked up the speed. Less than a mile in and you were already beginning to fill like yourself. There was a stinging in the back of your throat that came from the deep and panting breaths of a good run, and there was an ache in your body as you pounded away, treading uneven ground as you trained. There was a layer of sweat on your skin as you worked, breaking yourself into the day, and leaving behind whatever funk you had somehow managed to wake up in.

Every step felt liberating, and every breath felt refreshing. The shock of cold air in your lungs was like dropping straight into a bucket of ice water, enough to wake anyway up and shake them out of a sleepy haze.

Soon, the one-mile marker was on the horizon, every step taking you closer and closer, the trees melting into a green blur as you went, getting closer and closer to the tall marker that signified your progress so far. You were so close, everything in your sights was set on it, a point to prove to yourself, as well as everyone else, and then, everything as a new kind of blur.

Your leg cramped, the exertion obviously too much, and the sudden gasp you took in as the pain shot all the way up to your hip and all the way down to your ankle wasn’t refreshing at all, it was painful, like sandpaper on your throat. As you tumbled, your arm got caught beneath you, another painful and loud popping coming from your shoulder as it was pressed during your roll, much like the unhealthy sounds that your stiff neck had made that morning.

It wasn’t until you were laying in the dirt, slightly off the rack in the leaves and the twigs and the bugs that you realised what had happened, staring up at the green shades in the canopy as you processed the incident. Everything hurt, there was a stick digging into your lower back, and your head was still spinning. The throbbing behind your eyes had only gotten worse, specks of sunlight flittering between the leaves were now irritating to your eyes and so you screwed them shut, letting go the breath you’d held onto as a groan.

Maybe the soreness in your throat was from swelling, because as you pressed at it now, there was tenderness around your tonsils and under your jaw that made you wince as you pressed at it.

And, okay, maybe the ache in your body and the heavy panting was the exertion of your body trying to heal itself back up, when you’d clearly ended up run-down in some way. It was probably the stupid recruits all sharing a cold and passing it onto you. Or, maybe, it had been falling into a fountain during a firefight in Verona two weeks ago. It was really an unknown.

So, that meant that the sweat you felt wasn’t from your run at all, but instead, it was sticky and uncomfortable and clammy, and now it was making the dry and flaky mud of the forest floor stick to you as lay a mile out from the farm, utterly exhausted, filled with pain and barely able to stand back up, twigs and leaves digging into your lower back.

Alright, so, you were sick. Fuck.

It was a while before you gained the motivation to move again. Laying there, on the forest floor, openly considering the consequences o just becoming a part of the woodland scenery, before the aching you had subsided enough to allow you to find your feet once again. The jerk of your fall and the effort you’d put into the run had come to form big regrets. The sun was higher in the sky now, you weren’t sure how long had passed but it felt like an eternity, and you still had a mile to trek back just to get to the farmhouse.

Your feet were dragging against the floor, the adrenaline completely drained away, now simply leaving you to feel not only the exertion of the run and the fall, but also the general aches and pains that came with being sick. Several recruits passed you by on your way, your cheeks warming further each time at the assortment of odd looks, smirks, or both that you received as they took in your defeated state, and your slow walk along the edge of the trail in the wrong direction.

When the clearing in the trees became apparent and the open fields of the farm were back within your vision, which seemed like it was starting to grow blurry, you could already hear the ruckus of the day. Gunshots made you flinch as your head throbbed, target practice taking place off the edge of the tree on the other side, and you were more than glad you weren’t assigned to that detail today.

Your legs were barely able to hold you as you dragged yourself up the three steps of the porch, supporting all of your body weight on the bannister as you climbed. By the time you had the door open, the couch was looking more and more appealing, and your eyes focused right on it. You didn’t even bother to kick off your shoes, dropping straight down onto the couch, yet another groan leaving you as you took the weight off of your stressed joints and pained muscles.

“Oh, pumpkin,” You jumped, the deep and raspy voice you hadn't expected to hear was close, booted footsteps on the creaky hardwood floors, and you rolled your head to the side. Fluffy brown hair that was almost black in this lighting, and bright eyes, a smirk on his face, quickly falling away when he took a moment to scan his eyes over you. “Jeez, what happened?”

“I fell.” You pouted sadly, and he mocked the expression, leaning over for a second to pick a twig out of your hair and drop it to the floor, and you sighed as you watched it go, staring at the piece of wood laying on the floor. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you’re sick, so I sent my group to go and do a run. Twice. Then find Stan.” Sitting up a little further against the cushions instead of being slumped, Mitch handed you a warm mug, steam still curling out of the top. Floating on the top of the clear water was a slice of lemon, and your lips curled up at the sides.

“So, you were just waiting for me to come back? If you say I told you so, I’ll kick you.”

“I told you so.” He grinned, jumping backwards out of the way as you reared your leg up at his ankles, stubborn despite the pain you had, and he chuckled at the scoff you gave off. Blowing at the steam on the top of the mug, he took a seat on the arm of the couch, nimble fingers raising up to tuck loose threads of hair behind your ear. “Besides, we’re a team, and if you’re not feeling so good, I gotta’ take care of you. That’s the deal, remember?”

“That’s the deal when I get stabbed, or something. It’s just a cold, I can take of myself.” You sipped at the edge of the mug, hot liquid almost burning as it went down, but the honey within soothed your throat, even if it was a little too sweet.

“Yeah, well, I like taking care of you. In all forms.” Your cheeks warmed again, and you blamed it on the steam still billowing up into your face, letting the mug linger on your lips a second longer than necessary as you tried to think of a response. The silence filled in, and he took the initiative, continuing to speak anyway as he broke the building tension. “I do prefer it when you don’t get stabbed, though.”

“Yeah. I prefer that too.”

He snorted, letting you take another sip of your drink, before he was standing up once again. As soon as it was lowered from your lips, he plucked it from you, placing it down on the side and ignoring your protests, offering two large hands out to you instead. “C’mon, let's get you cleaned up. Stan will have your head if you get dirt on his new cushions.”

Slipping your hands into his, you knew he was right, and you let him pull you to your feet, taking a lot of your weight from you as his arm slipped around your waist once you were steady. You considered fighting it, you considered being stubborn again, but there was no judgment with Mitch. You didn’t have to prove you were good enough or hold up a reputation, he appreciate you for everything you had, and that was what made you such good partners.

So, you sank into it, resting against his side and folding against him, taking slow steps in tow with his own, eyes fluttering a little in exhaustion, and he guided you along. It wasn’t a route you didn’t know, you could do this walk blindfolded, but you were more concerned about tripping again. Your ankle and arm were still sore, you were pretty sure something - or multiple somethings - were bleeding, and you just wanted to get back into bed. Your nose was getting more and more blocked, sniffling becoming the norm as you struggled to breathe that way, and the tickle in your throat was becoming more like a nagging pain.

He reached above the door, the location of your key during the day, knowing you all too well, and unlocking it. The perks of not being a recruit and sticking around the farm meant a private cabin and a private bath, no more queueing up rain or shine just to wash off.

Navigating you straight through to the bathroom, he sat you down atop the counter, quick hands tight against your hips to lift you, and with your mind not quite working at its usual capacity, you couldn't stop the gasp you let out as he did. One you would usually be able to hide. It only made him smirk as he turned away.

Twisting on the taps at the bath, you watched him plug the tub, before turning to rifle through the medicine cabinet over your sink. “You know, it’s rude to go through a ladies private things.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really think there’s anything in here you’ve got hidden from me.” He pulled back with your eyebrow pencil, his brows shooting up a little as he stared at it, and then at you. “Except maybe this. I thought your eyebrows just, y’know, did that.”

“I tint them now.” You teased, and he nodded, face still the portrayal of curiosity, before putting the pencil back inside. The tinkling and crinkling of various bottles and packets continued, before he found what he was looking for, a victorious cheer under his breath, and he pulled back with it. Steam was beginning to curl up into the room, fling the air with moisture, and the wet heat was already starting to make it easier to breathe.

As though he had read your mind, Mitch sealed shut the bathroom door, making sure the steam was locked inside, making your bathroom into a makeshift sauna, before uncapping the bottle he had located. Sprinkling a few droplets into the bathwater that was building, the somewhat minty smell of olbas oil began to drift around the room.

“I forgot I had that,” You let your head fall back, eyes sliding closed, and you finally had a chance to take in a deep breath, lungs expanding more than they had all day as the varied essential oil blend began to soak into the air. Your airways were already feeling clearer, and the warmth was helping to soothe your muscles and joints, enough so that you were able to use your toes to kick off your shoes, flexing your toes and wiggling them inside of your socks. “I could just sit here all day, this is so nice.”

You had lost your filter entirely, every thought you had was threatening to spill from your mouth, and you had to clamp your lips shut to resist that urge. “That would be nice, but we still need to get you cleaned up.” Mitch chuckled at the groan that you let out, and you raised your head just enough to watch him switch on the cold tap, cooling the bathtub down as it was almost filled, with nothing but boiling hot water. “How’s your head?”

“Pounding. Feels like my eyes are gonna’ pop out.” He winced at the somewhat graphic description, before turning back to the cabinet, and producing a box you did remember owning. You popped out two of the tablets, taking them with a sip of water from the cup beside your sink, and hoping they’d kick in soon.

Your eyes had fluttered shut once again, the squeaking of your taps as they were shut off and the silence that replace the sound of running water was only a momentary break. A burst of sweet-smelling bath bubbles that you recognised, and the swishing of Mitch’s hand within the water to mix it. When you peeled your eyes open again, it was with a snap, Mitch’s hands sitting on your waist, one normal and one a lot warmer, damp from the water, inching your shirt up a little until his fingertips were brushing bare skin.

“What are you doing?” your voice was a cracked whisper, and you were too shy to care, your heart beating erratically inside your chest as his thighs pressed to your knees.

“Helping you.” His tone was equally as soft, but a lot sweeter and more assured, inching your top up a little higher for you. Raising your arms, you let him peel the material away, throwing it to the hamper in the corner, and your skin rose with goosebumps under his gaze. One hand skimmed down to your ankle, lifting your leg so that he could peel off the sock on your foot, repeating the action on the other side, and you swallowed thickly, hoping he couldn't sense your nervousness. “Relax, sweetheart. You’re all stiff.”

Busted.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I mean, we’re partners, and we’ve been on a lot of undercover assignments together. In fact, I’ve seen a lot more than this, before.” He smirked to end his sentence, lifting your arms to sit on his shoulders as his hands went back to your waist.

You never registered him lifting you from the counter, your mind was too busy spinning wildly, thinking back through every case you’d ever worked together. As his fingers hooked into the edge of your yoga pants, tugging them down and away from your underwear carefully, your hands followed his shoulders, balancing yourself down until he was peeling them from your ankles, and standing back to his full height.

It clicked, you knew exactly what he meant, and splotches of heat began to blossom all over your face and chest, every inch of skin that was exposed. The coloured lights of the strip club, the eight-inch heels that had clicked your feet and left you with blisters for weeks, the smell of tobacco and weed and the overly scented cologne Mitch had worn. The taste of sticky cheap lipstick and body glitter-

“You said you didn’t see anything that night!”

“Well, I lied!” His outburst was just as abrupt as your own, pink forming on his pale cheeks to match your own flushed feeling, but he was much better at dealing with it. “I saw, like, a lot. Pretty much everything. But, I don’t want you to feel embarrassed around me.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a little bit late for that now.” You turned your back on him, but let him offer his hand, stepping over the edge of the tub and into the water, sinking down until you were seated with your back against the edge of the tub, eyes sinking shut once again. You heard him move, taking a seat beside the edge of the bathtub, but not before he had grabbed the cup from beside the sink.

Filling it up with water as his hand dunked in beside your leg, he mumbled a warning, your eyes closing, and a second later, he was tipping warm water over your head, soaking your hair and washing away the dirt that had been beginning to grow itchy on your skin.

You let yourself be encompassed by the quiet, not having the strength or the will to break the moment just yet. Selfishly, you wanted to milk it. You anted this attention, you wanted this intimacy, and you anted it all with him, so you were allowing yourself these few moments, as his fingers worked through your hair, humming a sing under his breath and rinsing out the shampoo and conditioner, to relish in how it felt to be doted on by Mitch Rapp.

He helped you to clean your hair, and handed you a sponge full of body wash to clean yourself down with slowly, simply brushing back your hair from your face and sitting beside you, until the water was growing cold and you were no longer comfortable. With a reach of your arms, he helped you from the tub, and he helped to dry you down. Averting his eyes but not without making a joke, so that you could wrap the towel around yourself.

Through the closed bathroom door, heat and steam escaping as the water drained, letting cold sink in to fill the absence of warmth, he handed you a fresh set of fluffy pyjamas. When you were dressed in the cosy items, hair combed and dried, and skin cared for, he was sitting on your bed, jumping up to his feet when you emerged.

His shoes were toed off, you noticed them now sitting beside the bedroom door, and he had pulled the curtains closed, A fresh glass of water from the kitchen was on your bedside table, and he had already folded the sheets back to expose the mattress that was practically screaming your name.

“Y’know, I figured you’d have left by now.”

“Where am I gonna’ go, huh? I got nowhere more important to be than right here.” His voice was sweet and words sweeter, and the question you’d been dying to ask but had resisted for fear of breaking the moment just couldn't be held back any longer.

“Why are you taking such good care of me, Mitch? It’s just a cold.”

He smiled, the kind of rare smile he only ever wore when it was the two of you, alone, and even then, it was saved for special occasions. You didn’t know that this qualified as one. Stepping closer, he brushed the hair from your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and you leaned into him. As he moved to rest his cheek against the top of his head, the scrape of his stubble along your skin made you shiver, and you wrapped your arms loosely around him as you were awarded a hug. “Gotta’ take care of my girl. It’s my job.”

He had lingered for a while before finally speaking, and your breath was shaky as you released it, squeezing him a little tighter as his hand smoothed up and down your back, before letting him go, long enough to pull back, and catch his seemingly nervous gaze. “That’s a boyfriend’s job.”

Instead of the panic, or fear, or laughter, or anything else you’d expected, he gave you a bright smile, like he knew something you didn’t and he couldn't wait to share it with you. It was the same face he got when he wanted to show you a cute video he found online, or when he brought you back a souvenir from assignments you didn’t go on with him, or when it was a sunny day that you both had off, and you had fun plans already booked. “I know we haven’t exactly put a label on it, but there’s no pretending. We both know we’re a lot more than just partners and friends. You’re like my better half, my best friend, and you take up, like, ninety percent of my thoughts.”

You leaned forwards, resting your forehead against the tip of his nose, and his hands were still sitting on your waist, squeezing lightly as you tried to process your thoughts. Deep down, somewhere, you’d always known it was true. He didn’t exactly hide how he felt, Mitch may be a hard-ass on the outside but he had a heart of gold and nothing but love to give on the inside, and you weren’t exactly shocked by his words.

“Your silence is a ‘wow, you’re totally right, Mitch’ kind of silence and not an ‘I’ve been playing with you this whole time, dumbass’ kind, right?”

You laughed, nodding against him lightly and he gave a breathy laugh in relief, cuddling closer to him until your chin could hook over his shoulder. “You know, it’s not official until you make a move.”

“Yeah, well, later I’ll make you some soup, and when you feel better, we’ll talk about that move.” He shuffled, pulling you back toward the bed, and letting you clamber under the sheets. He followed, crawling in beside you as his head found a place beside yours on the pillow, and you were unable to help the smile on your lips. “I’ll take you to dinner, somewhere nice, not the farmhouse surrounded by recruits. I’ll get you flowers and everything.”

“That sounds nice.”

He let you get closer, arm slung over your waist, and your eyes closed, embracing yourself in his warmth. “Yeah, and afterwards, I’ll bring you home and blow your mind. I like to think I could make you feel real good.”

The two of you have actually known each other since you were little. Being royalty of neighbouring kingdoms and your parents liking each other instead of being rivals, pushed you together, but you two had never liked each other. Well, that’s not entirely true. When you were little you were the best of friends, but when you were teenagers, that friendship had turned to dust. For some reason the two of you just didn’t click anymore. Every time you talked it turned into some sort of argument or disagreement, which only made the hatred you had for each other grow. 

Maybe it just wasn’t destined to be.

✧─── ｡ﾟ★: .✦ . :★. ───✧

You were walking through the rose pergolas to go to your favorite spot, with Mitch right behind you, when he decided to speak up, and ask the question you realized you didn't quite have the answer for. “Why do you hate me so much?” He looked straight ahead, your gaze not leaving the roses either. “I don't hate you, I despise you.” Your answer made Mitch scoff, and he rolled his eyes. He was expecting an answer like that, yet he hoped for a proper conversation. 

As the two of you walked past a little pond where you loved to sit at and walked up the steps to the lookout spot, you heard him mumble something under his breath. “This is the stupidest thing I've ever had to do. I don’t even want to marry you..” You turned around and looked him straight in the eye. “Can you stop moaning? Just so you know, I'm doing this for my kingdom. If the choice was up to me, I would not have suggested marrying you,” When Mitch was just about to answer, you interrupted him. 

“Your brother though, he is quite the gentleman. Nothing like you.” You whisked your hair over your shoulder, turned around and walked away towards the edge of the little lookout spot. A proud smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

For a moment it was silent. Only the chirping of birds, splashing water from a fountain and the soft sounds of the village you were looking over were able to be heard. That was until your peaceful atmosphere was rudely interrupted, again, by the last voice you wanted to hear.

“If you adore my brother so much, why don't you marry him? He’s more husband-material anyway.” He suddenly stood behind you, and you froze at his voice, not realizing he’d followed your tail. If it weren’t for the focus on the splashing water and sounds of chirping birds, you were sure you would've heard him strutting behind you. “Maybe he’d grant you every wish you desire, princess.” The arrogance was clearly evident in his tone, and you didn’t even have to look over your shoulder to know he crossed his arms like his usual moody form. The nickname wasn’t new for you either, he usually called you that, wanting to let you know you were spoiled, but you didn’t seem to care. You were a princess after all.

You let out a deep sigh, inhaling scents of the nature around you before turning around slowly. “Dear Mitch, that’s not how marriages work for people like us, unfortunately.” You could practically hear him roll his eyes. 

Before he could say anything more though, you decided it was enough, so you walked away and circled around his body. Mitch shot question marks your way as you paraded around him but he didn’t follow this time. Instead he just watched as you made your way back to the palace. “Lovely talk as usual!” He yelled at you and you turned your head while still walking away. “I wish it was, yet it really wasn’t. Goodbye future husband.” You grinned as your head turned back around, hair dangling with every step you took, and you wish you could see his face right now. Calling him future husband probably upsetted and annoyed him, but you knew there was no way both your parents would call off the engagement. You knew he didn’t have a choice, and you didn’t have one either.

✧─── ｡ﾟ★: .✦ . :★. ───✧

The next day arrived sooner than expected, unfortunately. Yesterday when Mitch annoyed the shit out of you and made sure you knew he did not want to marry you, was actually not as bad as you thought it was. Well, aside from the constant bickering. But after all the engagement shit you’d had in the past couple of weeks, that day was actually a day where you were able to relax. 

That didn’t count for this day, though. Today was the day that you, Mitch and both of your parents had to make all the agreements and plans for the future, most essentially the benefits of this marriage for both kingdoms. The kings and queens were set on the fact that you two were going to marry, with or without your approval. And since you two have known each other since you were kids, they thought you two could profit from the marriage as well. Little did they know...

The hours of sitting still in a room and not actually having a say in any of the things your parents were discussing, was the most dreadful experience of your life. And you weren’t being dramatic. Even Mitch had the same bored and unamused look on his face as you had. At least there’s one thing both of you could agree on.

It wasn’t a surprise you immediately went back to your favorite spot in the garden, just to stare at mother nature. The sunlight that shone through the leaves, shone bright on your face and you sighed. You could stay here forever. 

“Figured you’d be here.” A voice said from a distance away and your eyes snapped open. You felt irritation fuel, something that just happened automatically whenever you would hear his voice. 

“Why on earth would you require my presence, it’s not like I require yours.” He simply ignored you and rolled his eyes. He then walked a little closer, standing next to you, and leaned against the railing as well. It’s funny that you two were in almost the exact same spot as yesterday.

“Let me try that again, differently.” He cleared his throat. “Nice weather isn’t it? It explains why you’re here again.”

“Yeah, the same weather when I was in the embrace of a liar.”

He chuckled. “Good one. Did you make that up just now or do you have a whole book with lame insults?” You didn’t respond and instead, closed your eyes again. “What do you want? Figured you want to be as far away as possible from me, considering we spent hours in each other’s presence. Get to the point.”

You could feel Mitch's eyes on the back of your head. If he would look any longer, you might say he’d burn holes. He coughed, sounds of paper filling the air, and you didn't even notice the papers he had brought with him. You frowned, turning to look at him and he grabbed something from his pocket - a feather and a bottle of ink.

“I think we should go over our own conditions for this marriage. I think it's only fair that we ourselves also have some, besides the ones that our parents made.” Before you could say anything he already opened the little bottle and grabbed the feather. “Alright, I guess.”

 He stood next to you and looked out over the village, feather in hand as the paper lay on the cement railing. You looked over at him, his fluffy, brown hair moving as his arm moved, to write the title. Knowing you shouldn't look that long, your eyes wanted to move away to a tree or sky, but the longer you looked, the more you felt drawn to him. You didn't want to admit it, but the hatred you once had towards him did fade a little over the past years. The anger that was within you was still present, but not as boiling as it used to be. His voice just reminded you of the same voice that told you pretty lies. 

“So, condition number one,” he cleared his throat, your eyes still glued to his face. “No inappropriate touching. This thing stays professional.” You managed to snort out a laugh, cackling as the man beside you stopped his movements of his hand on the paper, and gave you an unamused glance. 

“Why would you make a rule about that? Scared you're going to fall for me after we share the bed?” You mocked him while you leaned against the railing with your side. Even though the old times were gone, it still brought joy to poke fun at him. It was almost as if nothing changed. Almost.

“Not scared, I just know you.” He cocked his head with a sly smirk.

That’s true, he did know you, maybe even a little too well. Something that wasn’t in your favor, but you managed to play it cool. “Don’t worry, it ain’t gonna happen soon.”

“Alright, well, looks like you can’t take this seriously as usual, so we’ll just continue this another time.” He laid the paper down on the railing, with the bottle of ink on top. He put his hands in the pockets of his pants and you stood there in silence. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“Alright, I’m still gonna ask it. You better give me an answer this time, Y/N.”

“Should I?”

“Well, you kinda owe it to me”

“Owe it to you? I owe you nothing, Mitch."

“I just don't understand why you hate me. I don’t remember what went wrong between us. And would falling in love with me be so terrible?” 

“Don’t know. Don’t want to talk about it.” You managed to muster, but he wasn't pleased with that answer. And as you tried to walk away, he managed to grab your arm. He didn’t apply too much pressure, but it was still strong enough so you could not pry out of his grip.

“I know you know. You say you despise me, yet something draws you to me. And I also know that somewhere along the line, you stopped hating me. Maybe you never hated me, maybe you just convinced yourself you did. You just try to bolt off every time I try to talk it out.” 

You looked at him, staying silent. You didn’t want to admit it, but maybe he was right. Maybe you did overreact on the ‘hating you’ part, but you did have a valid reason if you really had to explain yourself.

“Look, I know you never stopped caring. It’s not like you. And in the meantime while you try to convince me you don’t, know that I'll always care about you, even when you think I don't. I know I haven’t always been the most endearing, but I have no clue what I did wrong for you to hate me so much. As much as I want to hate you too, I can’t. I could never hate you.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“This,” you pointed between Mitch and yourself. “Please just, don’t.”

“Why?” He looked at you with pleading eyes. Silently begging you to tell him.

“Why?” You repeated after him, but with a tone that made sure he knew that you couldn’t believe that he didn’t know what he did. 

“Y/N…Tell me why. For god’s sake, we’re getting married! Aren’t we supposed to work on the issues we have with each other now before it’s too late?”

“Fine,” You took a deep breath and looked at the ground. Honestly you were just tired. Tired of holding a grudge against him, even though what he did nearly broke you.“The royal ball, 6 years ago.”

“Yeah? What’s with it?”

“When we were kids, we made a pact. remember?” Mitch was quiet for a few seconds, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

“yeah.”

“We promised we’d be together forever, soulmates for life...”

“...Then at that ball, when we were 17, I saw you with her, dancing with her. Kissing her cheek like you always did to me. Curling her hair around your finger and holding her close. I wasn’t jealous at first, I would always be happy for you, but you chose the one girl that made me feel like I was worth nothing, and you knew. You fucking knew. Yet you chose her.”

“I wanted to ignore you, hate you for a few days. Perhaps a few weeks, let you come to me to talk about that night, but you acted like nothing happened. Something just grew inside me, eating me up. Hatred formed like a fireball in the pit of my stomach. Those few weeks turned into months, and those months turned into years.” You let out a dry laugh, done with explaining the moment that hurt you for the rest of your life.

He looked at you with big eyes. “Y/N…” He sighed, empathy evident in his voice. “At that time there were some complications between our kingdoms. Of course I wanted to dance with you that night. I was supposed to dance with you, but my dad wanted me to have other options if the issues between our parents couldn’t be fixed. I didn’t want to do it, but you know how my father is. My intention was never to hurt you, I’m sorry...”

You stared at him. No expression evident on your face. You were processing everything he just said. It wasn’t his fault, if maybe you had just talked to him this would never have happened. “I’m so sorry, Mitch. I- I didn’t know...I’ve been so cruel to you for these past years and every time you tried to talk I just walked away-”

“-I know, it’s okay. Even though we never talked it out until now, we found a way to fix it.” He opened his arms and embraced you in a hug. You missed his hugs so much. His warm, loving and tight hugs. It felt like the world around you disappeared for a moment and the only people who were there were you. “Mitch?” “Yes?” “I guess falling in love with you wouldn’t be so terrible.” He let go of you with a genuine smile plastered on his face. For a moment you just looked at each other in silence, before you decided to break it.

“So, what about our own conditions for this marriage?”

“To hell with it” 

Before his life was upturned for the first time, Mitch loved the Christmas season. The lights, the presents, the simple feeling that the holiday instilled in everyone. He was always so happy to visit his grandparents and see all of his cousins and relatives, to share his new presents and listen to them rave about how tall he’d gotten since last year. But after his parents died, he never celebrated the holiday. Then he met you. He met you and he saw how elated you seemed to get simply at the idea of the holidays approaching, even if they were still months away, and he fell in love with it all over again.

One of your favorite parts of the winter season was the cold. When the temperatures drop overnight, cooling down the apartment as you slept, and the contrast between the rest of the apartment and how warm the blankets grew from your body heat over the hours. The pure bliss you felt when you recoiled from the cold, only to curl into Mitch’s warmth, and fall asleep under the covers all over again.

In fact, that’s how you woke up this morning. Two days before Christmas, and it was later recorded as the coldest day of the year in Washington, you woke up to the crisp winter sun nearly blinding you, and the atmosphere around you was freezing to the touch. As you shifted in the bed, rolling over to meet the face of your peacefully sleeping boyfriend, you couldn’t help but smile.

Gently, you pushed some hair from his face and sleepily whispered, “G’morning, love,”

The man shifted, slowly coming back to consciousness with a large breath in. A lazy smile stretched across his face when your eyes met his amber colored ones, and there was no taming the butterflies in your stomach when he pressed a lazy kiss to your palm and said, “G’mornin,”

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve.” You told him, watching his face contort slightly as a tired laugh escaped his lips.

Nodding slightly, he said, “Merry Christmas Eve Eve indeed.” Stretching, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer, pressing his lips to your head as he mumbled, “What’d you wanna do today?”

“I dunno,” you said. “I still have to get some gifts for my nieces, and in case you didn’t notice, our cabinets are extremely barren right now.”

You felt him nod, squeezing your hip lightly before peeling back the covers and sitting up, shivering from the cold air that clung to his body. You groaned when you felt it, too, reluctantly sitting up and stretching as Mitch padded out of the room to adjust the temperature in your home. You stayed sitting in bed, trying to gather enough energy to follow the man and make some coffee and food.

The silence didn’t last long, when Mitch called out to you. The subtle confusion in his tone reverberated in you, wondering what he needed. Pushing the blankets off your legs, you trudged into the living room where Mitch was, only to be met with the best and worst thing you’d ever seen.

On your balcony lay 2 feet of snow, pushed against the door and covering the entire surface of the landing. A smile split your features, and, barely turning to Mitch, you told him, “Go get the broom,”

He did as told, and, after opening the balcony door and narrowly avoiding some fresh snow from hitting your bare feet, you got to work. It was hard because of the overnight buildup, and at some point, Mitch helped you into every piece of winter gear you owned to push all the snow between the railing and onto the ground below without getting sick. Looking out over the now-cleared balcony, you noticed that the roads had been in the same condition your balcony was.

As you pulled back and looked inside, Mitch was lowering himself onto the couch and flipping through the channels on the TV. You stepped back indoors, shedding yourself of the layers and dropping onto the couch next to him. He stopped at the local news channel, watching carefully as the reporter spoke.

“-The snowstorm hit late last night, leaving most roadways blocked. It is reported that nearly half the city residents are stuck in their homes, and even more so are left without power.” The man said. “Police are advising residents to stay in their homes unless absolutely necessary, and to not operate any vehicles on the roads until the snow is cleared. For now, all citizens are being asked to stay inside and enjoy their day off.”

That was all that you needed to hear. As he moved on and the next topic was introduced, you and Mitch shared a look. This was a day that, frankly, no one was expecting, but you were grateful for. Despite the fact that you were supposed to go out and finish up your present list, you were happy to spend the day inside.

At first, neither of you knew what to do, except make breakfast and have some coffee. Mitch was the better cook between the two of you, but you tried to help as best as you could, even though Mitch eventually kicked you out of the kitchen to decide what movie to watch after you ate. After you settled back on the couch, he made you both some hot chocolate, which was your favorite. Only Mitch knew the perfect way to make hot chocolate, and by now, it was the only one you would drink.

He handed you the mug as you turned on Netflix, sharing the blanket with him. Settling in, Mitch wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his body as you flipped through the movie selection, and he wasn’t even surprised when you chose to watch The Nightmare Before Christmas. You always watched it the night before Halloween and around Christmastime, claiming that it was a movie meant for both holidays, though he tended to disagree. This time, though, he was simply grateful to listen to you sing along to the soundtrack and quote most of the lines, deciding that this was the best way to pass the time.

Somehow, most of the day seemed to pass by quickly, filled with laughter, hot chocolate, and Christmas movies. At some point, as Home Alone 2 played in the background, you played a game of Monopoly. Despite how giddy you were to play, you always took board games seriously, especially since you were the youngest of four children and somehow always lost. So, it was unsurprising when you broke up with Mitch three times during the game, along with claiming that Mitch had been cheating. Ultimately, you won, but that was only because you flipped the board and scattered all of the pieces and cards everywhere.

Just as you slid the game back into its rightful place in the hall closet, something happened. The apartment became shrouded in darkness, the end credit music from the movie cutting off abruptly. The power had gone out.

With a sigh, you closed the closet door and headed into the bedroom, stripping the bed of its blankets and pillows to bring to the living room. You knew how thin the walls in the apartment were, and you were sure that they would do little to keep the cold outside. Mitch looked at the blankets and pillows in your arms with a raised brow, and you simply shrugged and said, “The heat’s out. I figured we could make a fort or something here.”

And, after minutes of convincing Mitch, you did. Mitch helped you pin the spare sheets from the closet onto the wall, stretching them out to be taped onto the coffee table. It took a lot of effort, but after a while, you were cuddling into Mitch under the covers of a bed made of blankets, laughing about a story he had told.

“There’s no way that’s true,” you argued.

“It is! I swear on my life, it happened.” He insisted.

“So you’re telling me that, at the age of 12, you and your friends stole shopping carts and rode them down a hill?”

“Yes!” He laughed. “We thought it was a great idea, at the time, but of course, we lost control and Dave ended up breaking his arm.”

You shook your head, still laughing slightly. “God, you were such a stupid kid,”

“I was,” he agreed, “but I’m not as stupid now.”

The day carried on into night and the power was still not restored to your home, but you didn’t mind. Under the covers, yours and Mitch’s body heat provided enough warmth to keep you both safe and happy. Hours and hours passed, the two of you sharing stories and reminiscing on the silliest of things. And somehow, after God knows how long, in Mitch’s arms, wrapped up in warm blankets to protect against the cold atmosphere around you, you fell asleep. And tomorrow would start nearly exactly the same way as today, but as long as you were with Mitch, you would never mind.

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