When morning arrived and Mitch was alone in his bunk with a splitting headache, he welcomed it. Being dumb the night before earned him this, and although Louis’ bedside manner was pleasant, he lacked any caretaker experience whatsoever. Neither water nor asprin were provided, and it left Mitch with a nice cross to carry. At the very least, he could better sell the food poisoning lie.
There were several texts that awaited him. Basil and Darius would be arriving together in the next hour or so, Jodie checked in on him, and then there was something from Avi. Mitch didn’t bother to read the latter, and opted to only respond to Jodie’s message, letting her know that he survived the night.
Unfortunately, it was almost a guarantee that Avi would be unavoidable when Mitch wanted nothing to do with him; having a mild hangover while racing through a soundcheck on an empty stomach was as good a crux as any. And when Avi at last arrived, he came armed with a coffee and a greasy brown paper bag. Mitch eyed him from his peripheral vision without any greeting, curious as to why he didn’t sip from the cup while silently praying that something wasn’t about to happen.
“Got these for you,” Avi finally approached after hovering around in the background for a short while, as if he waited for all of that time to be acknowledged.
“Thanks,” Mitch mumbled, his eyes fixed on his pink guitar since he was physically incapable of eye contact. He didn’t reach out to accept them, so Avi set the bag and the cup down on the shoddily constructed stage that Mitch perched on the edge of.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“I’ll leave these here?” Avi suggested, and Mitch nodded sharply.
“Great, yeah. Thanks.”
“Uh, I also-” clearing his throat, Avi continued with, “I have the wig that-“
“Don’t worry about it.” That got Mitch to look at him; he was ready to snap that he was busy until he spotted Avi’s smile falter. It put his heart into a vice, and he softened up. “I’ll grab it later.” Digging through the bag as a form of performative appeasement, he pulled out a garlic bagel -his absolute favorite- and silently cursed while moving the wax paper out of the way to take a small bite. It was a little cold, but still good. He didn’t have the first clue as to where Avi even managed to obtain that since the closest place that made them was over 15 minutes away in Wickburg, and it would be insane to go all that way for just a bagel.
“So…Jodie said your band’s gonna be playing?” Aw fuck, they were still conversing. How did Avi not get the hint that he wanted to be left alone?
“Yup. I’m going to do my best to not embarrass them.” Mitch plucked at a few strings, then continued to discreetly fidget by continuing to tune.
“You won’t,” snorted Avi. “You’re too good.”
“You’re very sweet to say that,” sighed Mitch, needing to take a break while his hands began to tremble. “Mind if I ask you to scram so that I can focus?”
“Oh! Of course, I’m sorry.” With his head ducked in embarrassment, Avi at last took his leave; although Mitch swore that he wouldn’t watch, his eyes never left Avi’s backside.
The night before had no significance. Neither did the very specific bagel at his side, despite the amount of times that he put it over in the past.
Appetite thoroughly killed, he left the breakfast offering alone and did his best to ignore playful comments about how it was too early in the day to be tinkering with the sound equipment. “I’m a professional!” he eventually snapped with far more tension in his voice and body than intended, but it seemed to be the trick to keep everyone away from him for the time being.
He needed a goddamn cigarette.