Hold My Heart (Scomiche AU)

1: Late

Scott was late. Ridiculously late. His eyes had lazily squinted open at exactly 8:05, and it had taken him another minute and a half to process the fact that he was most definitely not going to make it to his 8 AM lecture on time. It only took him two and a half seconds to fly out of bed in a panic, frantically attempting to pull on some semi-acceptable clothes and squirt toothpaste onto his brush at the same time. It took him another six minutes to get out of his apartment, his hair a mess and his left shoe still in his hand as he flew out the door at 8:12. It was then, at twelve minutes and forty-three seconds past 8 AM on a Tuesday morning in October, his limbs flailing in every direction and appearance completely askew, that Scott Hoying first met his next-door neighbor.

Mitch Grassi, as it happened, was also unbelievably late. He could've sworn he set an alarm for 7:00, and yet, when he opened his eyes in the morning, the first thing he saw was the bright red 8:00 glaring at him from his nightstand. It took him one second exactly to process this information and to roll out of bed, tangled in his sheets and flailing every which way, desperate to get presentable and make it out of his apartment as fast as humanly possible. And so, at twelve minutes and forty-three seconds past 8 AM on a Tuesday morning in October, it was in a state of complete panic, with wide brown eyes and a sweater that was only halfway on, that Mitch met his next-door neighbor for the first time.

Scott was just locking his door when he caught the movement of his neighbor in his peripheral vision. He'd been curious for a while now. His neighbor, who had moved in almost a year earlier, was about as elusive as a next-door neighbor could get. After a year, Scott had yet to see his face or learn his name, much less get to know him in any more detail. He was in a rush, and he knew he really should have been running down the hallway at this point, but Scott couldn't keep his curiosity from getting the best of him as he slowly dropped his keys into his pocket and turned to his right, finding himself facing a man who quite possibly looked more of a mess than Scott himself. He was short--quite a bit shorter than Scott--and he had deep brown eyes and dark brown locks that fell across his face in bangs, the sides of his head shaved down to the roots. He was skinny--very skinny--and his flat stomach was on display as his sweater hung awkwardly around his neck, only one arm in its sleeve. Pretty, Scott thought, but an absolute mess.

Mitch could practically feel his neighbor's eyes on him as he locked his door. He knew exactly what his elusive neighbor's voice sounded like--his voice was so incredibly loud that Mitch could hear almost every conversation the man had in his apartment. He had yet to lay eyes on his neighbor, though, and when he did, Mitch couldn't quite process what he was seeing. The man was a complete train wreck. He had blonde locks that lay in a sort of wave on his head, though random strands were sticking out in every direction. He was tall--much taller than Mitch himself--and had the prettiest baby blue eyes Mitch had ever seen. His shirt looked like it might be on backwards, and he was carrying one shoe in his hand, the other on his foot with its laces untied. Cute, Mitch thought, but a complete disaster.

It took a total of twenty seconds of the boys studying each other before they both collapsed in laughter, a few tears leaking from Mitch's eyes as he doubled over in the middle of the dingy hallway of their apartment building. They were both getting later by the second, but neither seemed to care as they were overtaken by fits of laughter, clutching onto the dull gray walls of the hallway for support.

Scott was the first to calm down, after almost a full four minutes of side-splitting laughter. "You look absolutely ridiculous," he said, somewhat breathlessly, laughter still dancing in his eyes and a wide grin still adorning his face. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes from the other man, his eyes greedily drinking in everything from the teary eyes to the adorable dimples.

Mitch took a deep breath, trying to calm his giggles, as he looked back at Scott with a smirk. "Look who's talking," he shot back, a hint of sass in his voice. "I can't tell if you got hit by a tractor on your way out or if you're on a walk of shame after a very rough night."

With that, the two were in stitches again, uncontrollable laughter shaking both bodies violently. It was Scott, again, who managed to calm himself first. "Believe it or not, it was neither. I was just in a bit of a hurry," he explained, his mouth softening into a fond smile as he watched the smaller man hiccup in an attempt to regain his breath. "I woke up at 8:05 for my 8 AM lecture."

Mitch let out another giggle. "I hate to be a bad influence, but I think it might be more effective to just ditch at this point."

Scott looked at his watch and cursed softly under his breath. It read 8:23. "As much as I would love to, I doubt my students would appreciate me leaving them hanging the day before their midterm," he said, scrunching his nose in distaste at the idea of having to cut off this conversation, which was significantly more entertaining than daunting hours of Introductory Statistics Q&A sessions he was about to suffer through in his next two lectures and his office hours.

"Ah," Mitch said, a look of understanding passing over his face as he started down the hall towards the elevator, Scott right on his heels. "I thought you looked too old to be a student. What do you teach?"

"Statistics," Scott replied as they entered the elevator, both reaching for the button at the same time. Scott laughed slightly, pulling his hand back and allowing Mitch to push the button for the elevator to go down. "So, I have a valid excuse. Why do you look like you got hit by a train this morning?"

"Late for a meeting," Mitch said dismissively, "But I've accepted that there's no way I'm going to make it at this point. I'm just out for the coffee, now."

Scott nodded in understanding. "What do you do?" he asked curiously.

Mitch grinned. "Are you into music?" he asked, apparently ignoring Scott's question.

Scott's eyebrows furrowed slightly, but he nodded nonetheless. "I'm a total music geek," he admitted, just as the elevator reached the lobby of their building. The two men stepped out.

"Ever heard of Mitch Grassi, the producer?" Mitch asked with a smirk.

Scott rolled his eyes. "I'd have to live under a rock not to know who he is."

Mitch grinned. "I guess you do live under a rock, then," he said, laughter in his voice. They were almost out of the building now. Mitch stopped walking and held out his hand to Scott. "Mitch Grassi. It was nice to meet you."

Scott's eyes widened in shock, before a huge grin spread across his face. "Scott Hoying. Nice to meet you, too."

"I guess I'll see you around, Professor Hoying," Mitch said with a wink and a smirk, letting go of Scott's hand and walking confidently out of the building, leaving a starstruck Scott standing stock-still in the lobby, staring after him until he turned the corner.

It took almost a full minute for Scott to snap back into his senses and look at his watch again. "Shit," he groaned, propelling himself out the door and down the street at top speed. There was no chance he would make it to his lecture on time, but he was determined to at least make it to his office and send out an email to his 8 AM class before 9:00--he absolutely could not, for any reason, be even a second late for his 9 AM lecture.