Samuel Rivera is my best friend, he has been since I was eight years old. Sam and Eli, that's us. People say our names like that now, as if they're hyphenated and never meant to be separated. Like gin and tonic, or Ant and Dec.

Everyone who meets Sam, loves Sam. I've never been able to work out exactly what it is that draws people in, but it's definitely real because I've seen it happen. It happened to me. He is charismatic and clumsy and horribly spontaneous. If there is one thing though, that everyone knows about Sam, it is that he has the lowest threshold for pain in the world; and is subsequently terrified of hurting himself.

You would think that someone who is inherently clumsy and afraid of injuring themselves would avoid situations that could cause them harm. Sam does not follow the same logic I follow, however, which is why I am reluctantly sat at ice hockey try-outs with him.

"You think we made the team, Eli?" Sam asks hesitantly, lifting a bag of ice to my throbbing knuckles.

I take the bag from him, noting the discomfort it causes him to simply hold the ice and shrug indifferently. God, I hope we didn't.

"Maybe, although why you decided ice hockey was a good hobby to take up, I will never know." I mutter, watching Sam grin at my grumbles.

"You didn't have to try-out with me." Sam states, although we both know that he wouldn't have escaped today unscathed if I hadn't. We do everything together, whether I like it or not, but it's not entirely out of fondness.

When we were kids, Sam had fallen off the top of a slide and had broken his arm right in front of me. It was just him and I, me and my best friend. He had screamed, sobbing at the pain and had begged me to make it stop. I still remember it so vividly. Seeing my only friend at the time in such despair had been so overwhelmingly distressing to me. I swore to myself and to him that if I could, I would take the pain from him in a heartbeat. And I did.

Sam had stopped crying, whimpering only at the fact that his arm was bent awkwardly whilst my own arm seared in pain. I had clenched my jaw, my fists, anything to stop me from crying out, and I had helped my best friend get home. Sam didn't complain once as he had his arm re-broken and set and the doctors had marvelled at how brave he was. I didn't understand at the time, that I had felt every pain that Sam should have felt. My parents thought I was putting it on, trying to sympathise or get attention. I never spoke to them about it again after that.

Every day since then, I have felt the pain that Sam should feel, taken the full force of every injury so that Sam doesn't have to. I have no idea why it happens or how to stop it, not that I want to. I would do it all over again in an instant.

Since that day, we were inseparable; but not purely because he's my best friend. Being by his side is easier; if I can prevent him from getting hurt in the first place, it's less pain for the both of us. I have no idea if Sam has ever wondered why his injuries never hurt as much as they should, or if he even remembers that day he fell from the slide.

"You really shouldn't have jumped in, he was going to tackle me. I would have been fine." Sam says idly, his eyes watching my knuckles intently. I shrug again and grin at him.

"Maybe I like the action." I say confidently and Sam rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, right. You're way too overprotective." He muses darkly and I chuckle at his frown.

"Would you rather I wasn't?" I ask, my tone is light-hearted but I am genuinely curious to hear his answer. He ponders it thoughtfully before his mouth turns up into a blissful smile.

"No," He says definitively, "But it is a pain in the neck sometimes. Look what you did to yourself!" He continues, remarking on the condition of my right hand. I flex my fingers and laugh at his mother-hen mode.

"You have no idea." I mutter, thinking of all the times that my best friend had quite literally been a pain.

The door to the locker room opens, preventing Sam from remarking on my comment and he watches the coach of the team with avid attention.

"Grey and Rivera?" He calls out gruffly and Sam raises his hand.

"Welcome to the team!" He calls, reaching out to shake our hands. Sam's grin is wide whilst mine is strained. Great. I grab our bags and sling them over my shoulder as I hold the door open for Sam, whose grin is growing wider by the minute.

"This is great! Isn't it, Elias? Uni is just going to be awesome, I can tell." He says smugly and I huff but smile nevertheless. I am not known to be the most chipper individual, but Sam's mood rubs off on people and some of it seems to have got on me.

We make our way back to our student accommodation, a building which we thankfully share, as Sam chatters mindlessly. Our classes had started about a month ago and whilst Sam is studying Spanish, I had opted for English literature. We both enjoy the classes, but we prefer our very free schedules even more.

"Hey Elias? You want to.."

"Go get lunch and watch a film? Hell yeah." I cut him off, knowing what he's about to suggest and he grins again, his eyes sparkling. His skin is tanned and his eyes and curly hair are dark and rich; suggesting his Spanish background. His features are well defined and masculine and he stands at about two inches shorter than me.

"Subway?" We suggest simultaneously and I roll my eyes as Sam laughs.

I shift the bags on my shoulder and flex my sore fingers, testing out my bruised knuckles. Sam notices and plucks his bag off of my shoulder indignantly. He doesn't like being taken care of, which is essentially very ironic.

"You want the usual?" I ask as he scrolls through his phone and he nods distractedly. I grin to myself and duck inside as Sam waits outside.

Sam, without fail, always eats the same sandwich.

I manage to order and pay before he notices.

"Elias Grey! Stop doing that, I swear to god I'm not your girlfriend." He huffs, barging over just as I accept my change and I smile lopsidedly.

"You aren't? Well, that does explain the dick, I suppose." I admit as I take the bag from an uncomfortable looking employee. Sam blushes, glaring at me as I hand him his sandwich. He snatches it and dives in, not bothering to wait.

"Stop paying for me." He mutters, mouth full of sub and I sigh, glancing over to him.

"I don't care, you're the one who's making it a big deal." I admit and he huffs, still not looking at me.

"Well I care! I can pay for my own damn self, I'm not your girlfriend." He mutters and I scoff.

"Yeah, you've made that clear; but you are my best friend so you're going to have to deal with it." I say and Sam sighs over-dramatically, grinning at me this time.

"I don't like it, but I'll live with it." He says theatrically and I roll my eyes, yet again.

"How big of you." I mutter as Sam jogs up the stairs to our building. I hand him my keys automatically, knowing his will be at the bottom of his bag and he takes them without hesitation. We walk along to Sam's room, as mine is on the floor above, and settle down to watch a film. Today is a Wednesday, which means it's my choice to pick what we watch and my gaze settles immediately on my collection of Studio Ghibli films. So many choices. I purposely select Spirited Away, knowing that Sam is freaked out by No Face.

Sam sets up begrudgingly as I eat. I take slow bites, savouring the taste as I know I won't have the luxury of finishing it. Sam predictably looks over twice before I offer him the rest. He takes it happily.

I settle down, taking the controller and pressing play as Sam wanders off to make tea. Two minutes later I hear a string of curses and moments afterwards my hand is searing in pain. I'm at his side in an instant, directing his hand beneath a steady stream of cold water and I sigh in relief as the pain subsides slightly.

I hold his hand there for ten minutes, avoiding his intense gaze as I focus on willing away the pain. I love having this connection to Sam, I really do, but if he doesn't take care of the burn then the pain will only return to me.

I let go of his hand, grabbing a cool cloth and wrapping it over the angry looking skin.

"You should really be more careful." I mumble, not having the heart to yell at him. He doesn't ask for me to take his pain, it just happens.

"It doesn't hurt, I swear." He says apologetically and I laugh humourlessly.

"I know."

_

A/N So, guys, listen, before you yell at me, I'M SORRY. I know that I have another story which is still not finished, I am just the worst human bean with absolutely no self control.

BUT, I've been working really hard on this story and it's my new fave, so maybe give it a go? Also, before you read an further, this is a love story, so if you have a problem with it, then don't read it.

Cool, enjoy! Please vote and comment and all that spiel.