My phone buzzes and I cast a casual glance towards it, thankful for the interruption. I drop my pen and flex my fingers as I reach for it, smiling automatically as I spot Sam's name.

His erratic texts are endearing but I cringe at the last message, my fingers sweeping out a reply in seconds.

No one wants to see your 'guns'.

I roll my eyes at how fast he sees my message, the tell-tale dots appearing as I wait for his reply.

I scoff but smile anyway, not having to think too hard to respond.

You were mistaken

There are three raps against my door and I ignore them, knowing who's there already.

I laugh openly and hear the door creak open slowly.

"Oh...you could have told me, idiot." Sam calls out, closing the door behind him. He saunters in and grins when he spots me.

"It was more fun this way." I say, shrugging my shoulders and Sam gazes at me in discontent.

"The weather is really nice, you wanna head out to our spot? I'm sick of looking at words and attempting to read them." He suggests, ignoring my comment and getting straight to the point.

I glance out the window and notice that Sam couldn't be further from the truth if he tried.

"It's sunny." I state, looking back at him with a raised brow.

He laughs at my expression but sighs deeply, shaking his head at me.

"Most people find warm weather appealing, most people don't like the rain. This classifies as nice weather to normal people, Elias." He says, gesturing to the window wildly and I frown.

"I disagree."

Sam snorts and nods.

"You would, the rain matches your entire way of being." He mutters, glancing down at my deep blue shirt and black jeans. I don't see anything wrong with them.

I sigh dramatically but nod absently, agreeing to humour him. I take off my wide framed glasses and replace them with contacts, blinking rapidly before everything becomes clear again. Sam grins widely and throws me a deep green shirt. I catch it and hold it questioningly.

"Put it on!" He remarks, laughing at my expression again and I can't help but notice his abnormally good mood. I choose not to bring it up.

"I'm already wearing a shirt." I state, gesturing to my shirt and Sam shakes his head adamantly.

"I like you in that shirt." He says simply, before turning and walking into the hall. I watch him go, puzzled and glance down at my shirt again. I roll my eyes and toss the spare top onto my bed. I'm not going to change my outfit just because Sam doesn't like it. What a toss-pot.

I smile to myself as I grab my phone and jacket, pleased that I'm asserting my own opinions. I'm not going to change my shirt just for Sam.

_

Sam is lounged on a precariously low-lying branch whilst I sprawl out on my jacket. I glare at the sea green shirt which covers my torso and reveals to the world my non-existent will power.

My eyes flicker over every few seconds as Sam shifts in his spot. I attempt to turn my attention to my book, reassuring myself that Sam surely can't be so clumsy that he'd fall out of a tree.

"I know you're uncomfortable, why don't you just get down?" I ask plainly, not looking up from my book as I hear him shift again. Sam sighs melodramatically and I still don't bother glancing up.

"I'm going for that vibe, you know? That effortless, elegant, elongated..."

"Now you're just listing words that begin with E." I mutter, turning my page and Sam throws a grape at me from the pot he's holding. It lands just to the side of me and I chuckle, throwing it back and hitting him square on the forehead.

"Why'd you have to be like that?" He huffs, sitting up and I watch him more closely now, the words in my novel forgotten.

"You threw it first!" I exclaim indignantly and he shakes his head.

"No! I mean why'd you have to be so..." He trails off, gesturing with both hands at me in general. He wobbles but rights himself quickly.

"I don't understand." I say slowly and Sam slumps against the branch in defeat, looking far more himself.

"How come you can pull off the cool, mysterious vibe without even trying? It's not fair! You and your stupid anime legs can bugger off." He mutters and I laugh, stretching out my legs a little further.

"No one's here to see you, Sam, it's just me. I don't know why you're trying so hard." I murmur, still half-smiling at his grumpy frown.

"I'm not trying hard! Maybe I'm working on a new look." He says and I roll my eyes. Sam has these new 'schemes' every other day it seems.

"I am a fan of the look you have now." I say, my voice wavering from my prior indifference and Sam peers over.

"What look?" He asks, glancing down at himself and the bright red t-shirt he's wearing.

"The Samuel Rivera look. You know, being yourself? Plenty of people seem to adore it, I don't know why you'd want to change." I mutter almost bitterly, reopening my book at the place I left off and Sam falls silent. I try not to question it, but a silent Sam is almost unheard of. I peek over the top of my pages to see him gazing at the top of the tree with a thoughtful expression.

Sam's opinion of other people seems to matter a lot in everyday life, but I never knew quite how important the opinion of others was to him, on the subject of himself. I wonder to myself, if that should be counted as conceited or just self-aware. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt, I think to myself as I resume reading.

After an impossibly long moment of silence, which I savour and commit to memory, Sam shifts again and promptly falls from the tree. I wince at the crash of sound, but more so at the sudden throbbing in my elbow and my shin. My eyes dart up immediately, my body reacting before my mind can and my book is long forgotten, strewn onto the grass as I hoist myself up and to the aid of the clumsy idiot.

"I knew I shouldn't have taken my eyes off you." I murmur as my eyes scan his body in a swift but thorough manner.

"I didn't expect anything less, you're growing careless, Elias." Sam chirps, although his voice is strained and I scoff.

"You have the audacity to call me careless?" I reply, my eyes wide. Sam pauses and nods, admitting defeat and holding out his hand to me. I grab it and pull him up, making sure he's steady before crouching down and checking out his shin.

Sam moves to step back but I hold his legs firmly in place as I scan over his graze. Thankfully not bleeding. Perhaps I should invest in a medical degree instead? It seems as though it would come in exceptionally handy and I've already had more than enough experience.

"Uh, Eli? What're you doing?" Sam asks, breaking my abstraction and I glance up at him, confused.

"Checking out your shin?" I say, standing up slowly and Sam nods almost imperceptibly.

"Uh, thanks." He remarks, still holding his elbow out in an awkward fashion. I turn my attention to it and gingerly try and stretch it out, my own elbow tightening in pain. I bite my lip, trying to keep my facial expression passive.

Sam whimpers slightly and my eyes shoot to his, concern weaving into my features.

"Does it hurt?" I ask tentatively and Sam hesitates before shaking his head 'no'. I sigh and nod, expecting his reaction. It must hurt slightly, although I'm so very glad he's not experiencing the real thing.

"I don't think it's broken, but it'll swell and bruise up nicely. We should ice it." I remark swiftly, turning on my heel to scoop up my jacket and my book before returning to his side. Sam is still stood in the same position, watching me carefully as though a very important thought has just crossed his mind.

"Sam? You need any help or are you alright?" I ask, breaking him from his thoughts and he nods eagerly. I forcibly keep my body where it is, my fingers itching to reach out and help but recently Sam has complained that I baby him and I don't exactly disagree. I clench my fingers tightly around the spine of my book, waiting for him to walk over.

He makes his way over slowly and we walk back to our dorms, stopping for ice on the way.

"Sorry I'm so clumsy, Eli, you must be really sick of having to take care of me, huh?" Sam blurts, laughing bitterly and I shake my head.

"Don't be sorry, it's who you are. I wouldn't help if I didn't want to." I admit and Sam sighs heavily.

"I wish it wasn't." He grumbles and I hum questioningly.

"I wish it wasn't who I was, I'd much rather be like you." He elaborates and I laugh at the idea.

"You'd rather be the unapproachable, grumpy and uncharismatic one of the duo? No, Sam, you drew the longer end of the metaphorical stick." I reply and Sam scoffs.

"That's not how people see you!" He argues and I merely raise an eyebrow at him. His shoulders slump slightly and he grimaces.

"Okay, so maybe people think you're scary," He admits, "But if you didn't wear so much black and tried to smile every now and then..." He trails off and I scoff.

"I do smile! I just don't see the point of forcing one when I don't genuinely feel the emotion behind it." I explain and Sam mutters under his breath. I only catch a few words, poetic and snob being two of the nicer ones.

"See, this is why people don't like you." He murmurs and I laugh in agreement.

"And you thought you wanted to be like me." I say, smirking at him and he sighs, giving me a look.

"I just wish I wasn't so fucking clumsy." He remarks eventually and I give in, knowing he's looking for reassurance of some kind.

"You can't change that I'm afraid, you're just going to have to make do with all the other charming characteristics you possess." I say, stuffing my hands in my pockets and Sam smiles faintly.

"I wish you weren't so sarcastic." He grumbles and I look up, meeting his gaze with my own.

"You know that wasn't." I say firmly, not leaving room for argument and Sam blushes slightly, shoving me with his side.

"Fine, I wish you weren't so charming." He insists and I laugh, throwing my arm around his shoulders and tentatively drawing him closer, watching out for his elbow.

"Now that's just an outright lie." I announce and Sam chortles but makes no attempt to move away.

"Can't argue with the truth, I suppose." He says merrily and I slowly pull my arm away so he can open the door. He fumbles with the keys only once, which is perhaps a new world record, and heads to his kitchenette to find something to wrap the ice in.

I let my fingers drift to my own elbow, wincing as the pain increases suddenly. After a moment or two it dulls considerably and I relax, allowing myself a moment to collect my composure. Most of the time, Sam's injuries hurt more than my own and this one is no exception.

Sam returns, his hands awkwardly holding snacks and the ice and I help him out, insisting the ice should stay put.

"Why?" Sam whines, "It doesn't even hurt, I swear! The ice is just uncomfortable and drippy." He continues, sounding far younger than he is.

"Please Sam, it'll reduce the swelling!" I argue back, but Sam just pouts.

"No, you're keeping it on, it's for your own good." I insist, knowing that for once I won't be shammed by Sam's pout.

Sam grumbles audibly, shifting around and purposely being irritating just so that he can persuade me otherwise. I keep my gaze firmly away from him and exercise extreme restraint on my temper. He doesn't know any better, but I really need my left arm for my English exam tomorrow.

"Sam, please! Just do it for me." I plead, meeting his lovely brown eyes and for a second he looks shocked, not expecting whatever emotion he has received from me. He nods slowly and shifts so that he's sat more comfortably, his left arm propped up onto the sofa arm and the ice beneath it.

I exhale slowly and sink into the cushions, feeling bad about speaking to him like that. I glance over at Sam who is looking very guiltily towards his lap, his fingers fidgeting with the zip on his hoody. He's going to apologise, I can feel it and I can't stand apologies when they aren't necessary. He hasn't done anything wrong.

He opens his mouth to say something but I beat him to it.

"Don't." I say, my tone perceptively softer and I turn my attention back to the cooking channel, which Sam adores and I merely tolerate, although I'm unsure as to whether Sam is aware of the fact.

I see Sam nod out of the corner of my eye and my hand finds his, encasing it with my grasp, quite of its own accord. I give it a gentle squeeze and he squeezes back.