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Mitch walked contently down the dark sidewalk, every few minutes a car passing although he paid no attention. He walked passed stores and diners, cute little barber shops and once a gas station. There were street lamps, some of them broken and some of them flickering.
He sighed as wind blew on his side. It was very nice outside, not too hot, not too cold. Simply lukewarm outside.
He wore ripped black jeans and black platform boots, a high sleeve black shirt and a few rings on his hands.
He preferred shorter shirts so he could show off his tattoos.

He continued walking, wondering how long it would take this time. He chuckled to himself as he thought about the last time he did this. Leaving.
Mitch's life wasn't normal, but that doesn't mean it was bad. He was happy, he had a roof over his head and food on his plate.

But that doesn't mean he has to stay, right? Who doesn't like adventure.

And although he had a good/abnormal life, he craved more then just a roof over his head and food on his plate. He liked attention. I mean, don't we wall? But there was something weird about the way he wanted attention and how he got it.

He only wanted attention from somebody specific. And he would get it by leaving. He liked getting in trouble and having to earn people's trust back.

He like being able to earn trust. And once someone trusted him and they drifte apart, he'd act out, loose their trust, and want it back. 

And the specific someone I'm talking about, is himself.

He has two sides. He has his normal side, and his fucked up side. He'd gotten himself under control, he'd finally feel normal and happy. Then his fucked up side would leave responsibility behind and his normal side, once back, would freak out.

"How could I be so stupid!?"
He thought one time when he sold his grandmothers car for five hundred dollars.

His grandmother was dead. So technically it was his car.

"I have to regroup." He would mumble when he realised how he was acting. He would have to trust himself again to go out in public, people's houses, diners, stores.

And he liked earning his trust back because that meant he would always be more careful; a lot more polite and likeable. He was less risky when he earned his trust back, and with Mitch, less risky the better.

He continued walking; trying to process everything in his entire mind. Why was he acting so strange, why was he doing stupid stuff, what was the matter with him?
Let me tell you. A part of his head got messed up after he and his best friend, kirstie, got in a car crash. Kirstie was fine, but Mitch smashed his head on the wheel, causing him to get brain damage.

And then he acted weird. He would have these weird days where adult hood didn't matter and he needed to do something crazy. But not too crazy.

Maybe just breaking something with a hammer...like a vase or something. Or throwing a rock at a glass object. Stealing sunglasses. Breaking something at a friends house and pretending it was like that when he saw it.

He needed to fulfil his crazy side. And now he was trying to calm down.

He'd just thrown his 8th cell phone that year off a building. He was now walking along a sidewalk at three-am waiting for something to happen because he knew something was going to happen.

He could feel it.

He was living with his best friends, but he managed to sneak out of the house at one in the morning without anyone noticing...
Or so he thought.

I turned into a dark alleyway, not caring if this was possibly dangerous. He felt the need to walk through. He continue until he was out and back on the side, only on the other side of the building he was walking by.

"Mitchell!" Someone shouted. Mitch rolled his eyes and looked around for the voice.

"Yes?" He replied. The tall and frustrated blond was walking toward him.

Took him long enough...

Mitch though.

"Where the heck have you been!? We've been worried sick!" Mitch just rolled his eyes and allowed Scott to grab his hand and walk back to his car which was parked a little ways down.

"Sorry?" Mitch said. Scott huffed, "is that a question?"

"Is what a question?" He responded, Scott just shook his head as he let out a sigh. He gestured for Mitch to get inside the car as he open the door to the front seat.

Mitch pouted, but obliged.

"Is she mad at me?" Mitch asked quietly as he felt his head stop spinning, reality finally going back to him and filling his senses.

"She's worried." Scott gave, his short and frustrated answer making Mitch's eyes fill with tears.
Scott didn't seem to notice the entire persona chance because he kept driving, irritated and tired since it was now five in the morning.

"P-please stop being mad at me." Mitch whispered, rubbing his face with his sleeve to get the tears away. Scott frowned and reached his hand out to grab Mitch's.

"I'm not mad at you, angel. I'm just worried. You get in the moods and we freak out because we don't know what you're gonna do...or what you plan to do."

Mitch just closed his eyes and struggled to keep the sob from coming up his throat.

Scott gripped on the steering wheel harder, making his knuckles turn white. Not cause he was mad, but because he was trying not to cry.

Mitch moved his legs against his chest, put his arms on his knees and put his forehead down and resting on one of his arms.
Isn't that what a lot of people do when they're upset? Just create a tiny dark hole for themselves anywhere at anytime and nobody questions it because they know.

"Mitchy, please. It's fine, it's okay. This is just something you have to deal with and we're here for you and we understand." Scott comforted.

Apparently Mitch didn't realize that he already started sobbing.

"Mitchy?" Scott tried.

"I try so hard to-"

"Mitchy, I know-"

"I don't like doing these things, I just loose control-"

"Sweetheart, we understand-"

"I just end up doing dumb things and I-"

"Baby, I know."

Mitch stopped sobbing, minus little hiccups and sniffs and looked up.
"I like that one." Mitch said. Scott glanced over at the red eye'd and tired looking man.

He furrowed his "eyebrows".
"Huh?" Mitch rubbed his eyes with his sleeve.

"Baby. The nickname. I like that one." He said again. Scott smiled and reached out to grab Mitch's hand again. Although, Mitch held onto Scotts hand with both of his small hands.

Scott knew he couldn't help what he did, it wasn't his fault...but he was just worried.

Mitch began to doze off, no surprise there, and Scott smiled.

Mitch mumbled something in his sleep that anyone else would miss.
Except for Scott. Because he wouldn't miss Mitch's words for the world. 

And he replied.

"I love you too...baby."

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