“I’m not gonna-” The followup words could not be dislodged from his throat. “Fuck you!” was all he managed, his chest tightening once the words were spat. “Why would you say that? Why the fuck would you say that?!”

“Because you explicitly told me to warn you when you start doing this!” she snapped back, and his face fell; were he a dog, his tail would be between his legs. “Because I’ve been witness to this multiple times before? I know how you get, just before you realize how badly you want someone. You telegraph real hard.” She sharply inhaled through her nose, exhaled through her mouth, then took a step forward and crowded into his space. As he stood frozen, she reached up and smoothed some of his hair, then cupped his cheek. The instinct to lean into the touch was strong, but he staved it off. “Just stay in here for a bit and cool off. For me?” She pleaded. “And we can talk about this later?”

Were he able to drive -technically he could- he would have stolen Jodie’s car and taken off. But then go where? To a bar, where he’d be unable to drink due to lack of supervision? Back home, where signs of Avi had gradually sprung up everywhere? To Toby’s, which was looking more and more like the inevitable option every day that passed and the loneliness became that much stronger, messing with whatever willpower reserves that he hadn’t yet drained.

So his eyes squeezed shut and gave a hard nod, unceremoniously dropping onto the sofa while Jodie left the room. His breathing was ragged as he tried to deny the points that she made, but she was two for two with these assessments. The only consolation that he clung to was that she typically waited a while before saying something, and at that point he was always in much too deep. Perhaps this time she was just bypassing the 100% certainty factor; by addressing sooner rather than later, Mitch could prepare better, possibly even take matters into his own hand and quell this before it became a wildfire run rampant, scorching countless acres in its wake.

Of course, he considered that this thing which he was content to avoid could be nothing more than a byproduct. For all he knew, the amalgamation of all of his strained emotions could simply be manifesting as desire in strange places. Wouldn’t be the first time. That seemed realistic, he decided. And it wasn’t as though he could act on it, on account of what was presently out of order.

Besides, there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with being attracted to someone. Mitch had handled being Louis’ tag team partner for a year and a half, despite the occasional passing fantasy of getting mercilessly railed by him. And Avi certainly was attractive, how could he not appreciate the way that he always smelled like spearmint? Or how his ass belonged in a museum for preservation? Or the full lips and soft smiles that so often graced them? It was biological, no more or less.

“Oh my god I’m fucked.” He ran a hand down his face and went completely horizontal on the safe, body deflating as though all of his bones had been removed. An undetermined amount of time passed as he stayed in that position, and he cursed himself for having left his phone in the locker room. However, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he would leave the office to go find it, he wasn’t ready to show his face in public, or give Jodie the satisfaction of being right.

And god forbid he bumped into Avi. He would rather die.

Eventually, the office door opened, and Louis’ head poked in. “Hey man,” he greeted warmly, his long hair damp and the smell of cheap shampoo indicating that his match was already over.

“Hey Loulou,” Mitch responded without bothering to mask the wariness.

“You uh, wanna skedaddle?” Mitch went to open his mouth, but before he could, Louis continued with, “Jodie said it was cool.”

“So she asked you,” Mitch deadpanned.

“Hey, I’m just the messenger. And maybe cabbie.” It wasn’t the first time that Louis had been the designated middle man during their spats, and it wouldn’t be the last. Mitch elected to be thankful for the courtesy and not drag him down any further, only requesting that his phone be retrieved before they leave. Louis, being the good friend that he was, obliged with haste.

“Alright.” With his phone back in his possession, Mitch stood up and stretched. His bones were denser than usual, aching from either depression or gravity or some pathetic combination of both. “Take me home?”

“I’ll take ya home alright,” Louis kidded, full of faux insinuation as he put his arm around Mitch’s back, careful to avoid the bad shoulder. Though the gesture was small, the suffocating weight became bearable due to it. Mitch laughed and allowed himself to be pulled into the side hug, grateful that Louis’ orbit was a familiar comfort that he could always rely on even when everything else fell apart.