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shimmerwindow · 2 months

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I Never Really

Part Fourteen

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: None

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Tag List: @jazzyfigz @dont-go-home-without-me @poochiesworld @stardustcatcher @83rkblogs @jaketsguitar @dannys-dream @gretavanfan @do-it-jakey-baby @gvfpal @ignite-my-fire @gardensgatekeeper @torniturntomyarrow

You weren’t sure if it was the morning sun creeping in through the windows, or the chattering next to you that woke you up. You turned over, feeling drained but light as a feather, and Sam was there. The night before came back in pieces, slowly, one by one as your hungover mind could process them. You were in Sam’s bed, in his house, staring at him while he slept. And he was talking in his sleep. It was all nonsense mumbles, but his face contorted as if he was having a regular conversation with you.

The urge to be closer to him was something you could not fight. You pulled a bit closer to him, draping an arm over his waist under the covers. He stirred, mumbling a few more words before going quiet, one eye cracking open to look at you. A smile formed across his face almost immediately upon seeing you.

“Did I wake you up?” You whispered.

“Yeah, but I’m glad you did.” His voice was cracked and sleepy, barely more than a mumble.

“Good morning.”

“Morning, sunshine.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight to his chest and letting out a contented sigh. “How’re you feeling?”

“Hungover.”

“Me too.”

You would have laid here with him until the house crumbled around you if you could. His warmth, the scent of his skin, the feeling of his lips softly pressing a kiss to your forehead, it was purely divine. A high you’d never thought you could reach, nor deserved to. You still didn’t feel worthy, when he tilted your face up with a finger on your chin to kiss you. There was no way you were lucky enough to be able to watch those amber eyes close and those soft, pink lips turn up into a smile before they met yours.

You were in and out of sleep for who-knows-how-long, your positions changing, but never breaking contact. Even in sleep, you needed his skin against yours. The sound of the front door loudly closing behind someone was what finally shook you from your dozing, likely the last passed-out partygoer finding their way outside.

“You want breakfast?” Sam mumbled into your ear, his body cradled around yours. “Or, I guess…” he grabbed his phone from the nightstand, flashing it at you to show you the time was nearly noon. “Lunch?”

“Breakfast-lunch?”

“Blunch?”

You giggled, nuzzling yourself closer to him. “Yeah, I’d love some blunch. But I think most people call it brunch.”

“Let’s go. I’ll make you something.” He rolled over, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat much,” you warned, taking note of the nausea that washed over you occasionally.

“Eat as little as you want, I won’t be offended.” He looked down at you with a grin, offering his hand to help you up.

He led you downstairs, grabbing you a blanket from the linen closet, practically demanding you make yourself comfortable on the couch. You stared at the beams in the ceiling, listening to the rustling and rattling of him in the kitchen. As the scent of food started to waft into the living room, you were struck with a deep calm, and an intense hunger you didn’t think you could feel after how much you'd drank.

It was cozy here. Despite the coldness that old houses tended to harbor, there was a distinct warmth to it that you couldn’t quite place. Maybe a combination of everything, you guessed. It must have been the welcoming environment, the decor, and the fact that you always felt whole here. The house seemed empty, to your knowledge, but it still held the bright energy of the party the night before – and it wasn’t just the empty cups and cans strewn about every surface.

“Where is everybody?” You called to Sam.

“Josh is out, he texted me earlier. Daniel is MIA. Jake is here, or at least his car is.”

There it was again, that knot of anxiety that would sprout up any time he was around. You tried to push the feeling away, skirting around it in your mind, focusing on the outside world instead.

“D’you like eggs?” He asked, over the sizzling sound of the stove.

“Depends if you’re a good cook or not.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He peered around the doorway at you. “I was born to cook.”

“That so?”

“I was born with a whisk in my hand.” He disappeared back into the kitchen, returning later with two plates. He danced over to you to the beat of whatever song was stuck in his head, handing you a plate with a flourish. “Your blunch.”

Any remnants of nausea chased itself away, looking down at the feast he’d made for you. It looked delectable. Everything you liked, and all of it was done picture-perfect.

“You made this so fast,” you commented, taking it from him and scooting yourself into a sitting position.

He sat down next to you, and gave you a proud smile. “Course I did. I’m hungry.”

The two of you ate in silence – it was too good to be interrupted with words. The occasional stunned glance and point of your fork was all you needed to communicate.

When the dishes were empty, piled in the sink for someone else’s part of the chore list, he wandered over to his piano in the connected room. “Wonder if this will make my headache better or worse,” he laughed. “Do you mind?”

You were looking at him over the back of the couch, his hands extended towards the piano. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t suck.”

“Guess you’ll have to be the judge of that.”

He started up a soft, slow melody, something you’d never heard before. It was quieter than you’d expected. The most you knew about piano was randomly poking at the keys, you didn’t know it could sound like this. You laid back down on the couch, breathing deeply and trying to cement this moment into your mind. The ceiling was no longer unfamiliar to you, you realized.

You hadn’t noticed how dull your world had become until now, when everything was filled with so much color. The sun shone brighter, the paint on the walls was more vibrant, your blood coursed under your skin with a renewed vigor. Like you were finally emerging from a dark night, the sun was returning to your sky. Your eyes slipped shut, lulled into a deep sense of relaxation by his gentle playing. You hadn’t even realized the music stopped until you felt the back of his hand graze across your cheek.

“You must be tired. I should get you home.”

You checked your phone, sighing as you realized there were only a few hours of daylight left. You hated these short days.

“I don’t wanna go.”

“I know. I don’t want you to go, either.”

“My clothes…” you looked down at yourself, still clad in the clothes he’d given you.

“I’ll get them to you. I’ll see you soon.” He brought you your coat and your shoes, which had somehow ended up in different rooms, and you followed him out of the house.

“Heard there’s a storm coming in,” he mentioned, pointing out the dark clouds looming on the horizon.

“Thank god I’ve got nothing to do but sit at home.”

“Let me know if you get bored,” he smiled down at you. “I’ll trudge through a snowstorm to get you.”

“Uphill both ways, too?”

“Over an active volcano and across a frozen lake. It’s a terrifying journey.”

You rubbed your fingers together in his car, desperately trying to warm up against the frigid air as he drove off. It was quiet between you for a bit, though you could feel the tension of words building behind both of your mouths.

“So…” you began, a thousand words crashing to the front of your mind all at once.

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes inquisitive. That feeling burst through you again, a bolt of pure electricity so intense it made you jump a bit. It was him. He was here with you. He shared the same feelings you'd been hiding and fighting for months.

“So what now?” You asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What are we…what’re we doing? What do you want?” It sounded so silly, coming out of your mouth, such an open-ended question.

“What do you want?”

“I…” you paused, trying to find words that would not come.

“I mean, I’d love it if we were, like…” He didn’t finish, but you could fill in the gaps just fine.

Your head was spinning, and it wasn’t just from the lingering hangover. You’d really never thought it through this far. It had been such a pipe dream in your eyes, to even be this close to him, that you’d never considered what you would actually do if the feeling was mutual. “I need time.” You didn’t want to say it, but your mind won out over your heart. “I need to focus on school. Next year is my last. I can’t fuck it up.”

The light seemed to fade from his eyes, just a little bit, in a way only you would be able to notice. “I get it. I should do the same.”

“But I don’t want to just drag you along for another year. I…” I love you. “I care about you. I want you to be happy.”

“I’ll be plenty happy as long as I get to be near you. I don’t need anything more than that.”

You almost didn’t want that to be true. It was impossible for you to process that he really could like you that much. After all the convincing of your own mind that he barely cared about you, this was a jarring switch.

“You know, I really didn’t think you liked me that much.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Did I not make it obvious enough?”

Looking back now, he so clearly had, but you’d been too caught up in your doubts to realize it. “I think I was too busy convincing myself that you didn’t like me.”

“Well, if it’s not clear yet, I do like you.”

Every admission of those words was just as shocking as the first.

“Isn’t this nice?” He added as he pulled up to the dorms, throwing the car in park. “We’re actually just talking for once.”

“It is nice.” There was a long pause between the two of you. Neither of you wanted to part. “I should go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Would you mind if I…” he leaned a bit closer to you, wrapping his arm around the back of your seat. He didn't need to finish his sentence, and you agreed wordlessly, cupping a hand around his cheek.

You kissed him, and it felt so different. It was so delicate, the way he wrapped his fingers around your jaw. His skin was soft under the touch of your fingers, you could feel the slightest hint of stubble when you brushed your thumb across his jawline. Everything felt so real, but it was so hard to believe this was your reality.

“You don’t have to ask every time you kiss me,” you said softly when he pulled away.

“Is it so bad to be respectful?” He grinned. “I just…lo–” His mouth clamped shut, stopping the word, but your body stiffened either way. “Like you. A lot.”

Clearly, both of you would need time to adjust before you could hear that word from your lips.

“I know.” You looked him over, tracing your eyes over that flawless jawline. “Alright. I need to go.”

“Yes, go, go.” He waved his hand at you. “And go take care of that too.” He pointed at your bandaged hand.

You sighed, staring down at the gauze wrapped around your palm. “It’s gonna be such a bitch to deal with this. I wish I could just slap a band aid on it.”

“Hoping it heals nice and fast. Glad it wasn't any deeper, at least.”

“True.” You were making idle talk now, coming up with any excuse to not leave his presence. “Okay, I’m actually gonna go this time.”

“Alright. Take care of yourself. I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Same to you,” you smiled. “See you soon.”

You gave him one last kiss before you hoisted yourself out of his car, bracing against the wind and snow until you made it inside. He waved at you, and drove off, out into what was shaping up to be quite the blizzard.

Finally alone in your room, you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself. You went about your usual motions in a daze, turning on the lights and lighting a candle, before sitting in your bed. Staring at your hands, watching your fingers shake, nothing felt real. Like you were a blade of grass that had been ripped from the ground and thrown to the wind, you had nothing holding you down anymore.

The soreness in your body was a poignant reminder of the night before. That, and the way your hand throbbed if you focused on it a bit too hard. He really harbored a deep, genuine care for you, you thought. He’d been so gentle and thoughtful when he was patching you up, and even the sex just felt different than anything you were used to.

Your room no longer had the cold, dark, empty feel you were so used to. It was brighter, warmer, filled to the brim with the love that poured out from your heart. Even as the light started to fade from the sky, things still felt more vibrant than they had in a long time. You couldn’t bring yourself to do much more than sit around for the remainder of the day, listening to music and scrolling mindlessly on your phone, barely absorbing anything you saw. You were too busy thinking about Sam.

Sweet, sweet Sammy. You were a bit anxious, but excited, to see how this all would play out. Who would say that four-letter word first, the one he almost said in the car earlier? What would happen the next time you saw him? You sighed, falling back and allowing your head to hit your pillows. You needed time to adjust to this, to really comprehend that he wanted you. You needed time to focus on yourself, and that was the hardest part.

Worries started to swirl in the pit of your stomach. You had to hope that he would be willing to be dragged along for an entire year and a half. And you had to hope you would actually be able to focus on your degree, the thing that was most important to you right now. This coming semester, and the year after it, were essential. You needed everything to be perfect if you wanted to continue on to a Master’s some day, like you planned.

And there was still the issue of Jake. You groaned and ran your hands across your face, cursing your past self for being so stupid. If you hadn’t been so touch-starved, so eager to fall into the first set of arms that were offered, you wouldn’t even have to worry about this right now. You’d need to start preparing for how you would go about telling Sam. It would be uncomfortable, maybe even catastrophic, but it would need to be done. You refused to live inside a lie, not forever.

The storm outside began to worsen, wind whipping through the screen on your window and making the building creak and groan. You were finally able to pull yourself out of bed to shower once the light had almost fully left the sky, and snow was packed against your window sill. But before you could, you needed to deal with the gauze on your hand.

Gingerly, you unwrapped it, letting the bloodied bandage fall into the trash. He was right, it wasn’t very deep, but it was long, spanning half the width of your palm, across the lines creased into your skin. It would absolutely leave a scar, a permanent reminder of your first night with Sam. It was fitting, and poetic, in a way that almost annoyed you.

When you returned to your room after your shower, there was a text waiting for you, from Sam.

thanks for coming (lol) last night. i had a great time, hope you did too. miss you already

You giggled to yourself, sitting in bed and hovering your fingers over the keyboard, a wave of giggles hitting you every time you re-read his text. You were so hopelessly in love it was ridiculous. You tried to think of a good way to reply as you taped a band-aid to your palm, which had begun to bleed a bit again during your shower.

i had such a great time :) thanks for making me come (lol)

LMAO

hope u have a good night!

you too miss eclipse

You put your phone down, struck by the urge to scream, or throw something, but in the best way possible. A grin was stuck on your face for the rest of the night. It felt so good to finally have someone like him. It stung a bit that he was so close, yet so far away, but knowing he would come over at the drop of a hat was more than enough to sate you. It was not perfect, but it seemed like things were finally, finally looking up.

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