"Sam." I breathed, my voice still raspy from all of the gasping and heaving. My throat felt as though desperate hands had clawed at it from the inside out. Breathing hurt, but at least I knew that I would never take it for granted again. Speaking felt even worse.

I tried my best to stay a glass half-full kind of guy, but right then it was becoming very tedious. Oh, who the hell was I kidding? I was the half-empty kind.

Sam came over to where I was attempting to stand. He didn't talk though, he just silently put an arm around my shoulders to keep me from swaying so much. I was still very dizzy, my body clearly not thrilled to accept the fact that I had almost choked to death.

Yet, I couldn't bring myself to think that this was fair. Sam was the one who took a beating. I was simply the pansy who couldn't escape the grasp of a single person.

So, I forced my vision to stop swaying so much, and I wiggled out of Sam's arm, looping mine around his back in return.

He didn't fight me like I expected him to, and instead leaned into me. We both wobbled back to his car, my eyes focused intently on the ground with the hope that I wouldn't accidentally trip and die.

When we parted in front of the hood, I suddenly felt very lonely. I never thought I would miss Sam, but I think that I did. He was only parting so that he could climb into the other side of the car, but I still felt like I needed to keep my arm around him. I just wished that I could have kept him safe.

I brushed the thought off and got into the car.

The sun was at it's lowest point, causing heavy shadows to be cast by the smallest of objects. I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but I also wasn't sure if I even cared.

Things felt so abnormally calm. Was that what that cliché saying always meant? The calm before the storm? As much as I wished to believe that it was after, I knew that there would be more to come. Possibly even something worse.

As Sam turned the ignition and gently pulled the car back onto the respected side of the road, I couldn't bring myself to look at him fully. I was scared of how hurt he have been. It seemed so selfish, but I just wanted to get to guaranteed safety before worrying about the damages. Just in case something else came up, I needed to focus on our surroundings. I could look at Sam after.

And it took only a few minutes of a comfortable, yet painful, silence before the car came to a halt in Sam's driveway. This time, I wasn't basking in the life of a rich kid, because I was far more focused on securing the life of said rich kid.

When I got out of the car, I met back up with Sam, stringing my arm under his to help keep him balanced. He didn't seem to mind it as we carried on up the steps where he then proceeded to unlock the front door.

We stepped in, him locking the door again from the inside and making his way around the house. I followed suit, letting him guide the way. Unlike last time, we weren't headed for the living room, instead entering a room on the opposite side of the house.

When he flicked on the lights on, I could see an overly large bathroom - complete with an intricate bathtub and vanity. But I decided to ignore it for the time being, assisting Sam as he sat down on the closed toilet lid.

I opened my mouth to ask him where he kept his first-aid items, but he seemed to already know what I was going to say. He pointed to a large drawer. I went over and opened it up, sifting through, pulling out somethings that may come in handy.

After having done that, I went over to Sam again, finally forcing myself to fully meet his gaze.

And when I did, I flinched.

There was blood. So much blood. Some of it was dried, and some of it was still flowing. I knew that I couldn't possibly help him just by gawking at his pain. So I took a white washcloth, running it under hot water. My hands were shaking softly, but I did my best to still them before any further action.

When I turned back to him, he was still sat and waiting patiently for me. I walked back to him and carefully began to dab his cheek, trying to keep my touch light and my hand steady. When he flinched, I quickly jerked my hand away.

"Sorry." I whispered, forcing myself to be more careful.

And after sometime of me just gently pressing a wet cloth to his face, I had managed to clean off all of the blood without further damaging him.

Then came the harder part: cleaning the actual cuts.

Now that there wasn't blood obscuring his face, I could fully see what they had done to him. The fading bruises from days ago where now red and purple all over again. A scrape ran deep under his left eye, only making his eye look more gruesome. There were bruises on each side of his jaw, one was also cut open. The most subtle one of them all, was the one blooming out from the bridge of his nose to the circles beneath his eyes. Any harder, and it could have broke.

Still, I couldn't help but take the opportunity to fully study him. More than just the bruises. I didn't know why, but once I started, I couldn't stop.

The subtle bump on his nose, the shape of his eyebrows. The way his lashes were still incredibly visible despite how blonde they were. The stretched out heart-shape of his lips, pressed into a relaxed line. His messy curls, framing his face in a cacophony of unsung melodies. In that moment, I suddenly realized how deeply I was even thinking about him.

But when I noticed him start to bite at the bloodied and enlarged scab on his lip, I forced myself to quit staring.

Tentatively, I dabbed some peroxide onto a fresh, clean washcloth before meeting Sam's gaze, trying to convey the fact that I was about to place it onto his cuts.

He nodded, giving me confirmation that I could begin. With slight hesitation, I pressed it into the one on his cheekbone.

He bit into his lip a little bit harder, his eyes scrunched slightly at the corners. So he can handle taking the beating, but not getting the beating cleaned? Interesting.

Sending him an apologetic look, I continued with what I was doing. After successfully cleaning all of his opened cuts, I stepped back and went through the drawer to see what kind of bandages he had.

Once I found the right kind of patch, I looked back at Sam only to see that he was still watching me intently. There was something weird in those hazel eyes of his, causing my heart to suddenly beat a little too loudly. Why did he make me so anxious sometimes? I wondered if he could hear my heartbeat, too.

Shaking the feeling off, I got close again and began opening the bandage. When I went to apply it to his jaw, Sam moved a bit under my touch, causing me to pull back.

"Don't move, I might hurt you." I told him, not wanting to accidentally apply too much pressure due to his movements.

However, when I went in to put it on again, his head pulled away. I frowned, wondering why he suddenly began squirming so much. I brought my hand away from where I had it sat on the unharmed part of his cheekbone, looking at Sam with curious eyes.

"I said, stop moving." I warned again, trying to put at least a little bit of threat into my voice. Although, I was pretty sure that I didn't succeed in the slightest. It was hard to threaten someone who still drove home after getting the shit beat out of him.

I would be lying if I said that he didn't exceed my expectations as a person.

Sam had been fairly nice to me ever since Friday despite our history, and he didn't hesitate to allow me into his home. He even apologized for something that was more than just partially my fault. Plus, there was the way he reacted when I was being dragged out of the car. Overall, he had done nothing other than try to help me.

Wow, I couldn't believe how much I resembled a damsel in distress. I was considering getting tied to some tracks, where I would sit and let the train run me over.

Ignoring the weird turn that my thoughts were starting to take, I went back to Sam. "Will you stop moving?" I asked before getting ready to bandage his cuts for the millionth time.

But he seemed to have a different idea, his head pulling away to look at me. "Maybe I don't want to."

That was the first thing he was willing to say? After all of that?

I swore, if he created an argument at a time like that, then I was going to add a few bruises to his ever-growing collection.

"Why is that?" I asked, unamused by his antics. I was trying to clean him up and be a decent human for once, but he was just making things increasingly more difficult.

"Because I want to look at your face."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh!

He wanted what?

Did I hear that correctly? No, I mustn't have. No way, José. My ears must have been so clogged full of bullshit that I was beginning to imagine some very bizarre things. Wait, why would I even imagine Sam saying something like that?

I think I was just tired. Yeah, tired. That was it.

But Sam simply stared at me, a slight quirk to his lips. Was my face hot? No. Yes. No. Maybe...

Oh god, what a turn this took.

I wasn't sure if I was breathing correctly, but I was sure that if he couldn't hear my heartbeat before, he could definitely hear it then. There was something so sure in expression, paired with that same look that he had always bestowed upon me. The one that I was never able to understand before.

"You want to what?" I finally managed, chocking on the words.

Sam only smiled softly at me, lifting his hands up from his lap. He carefully placed one on my cheek, the other resting on my shoulder. His eyes were studying my neck, probably tracing the lines of the bruise. I hadn't even seen it yet. I was too focused on making sure that Sam was taken care of first. Hell, I had even forgot about the pain in my throat.

When his eyes met mine again, there wasn't a second of hesitation before he brought our heads close and our lips together.

I, on the other hand, definitely hesitated. I mean, it was Samson Warner. My archenemy. And he was also a boy. I was never interested in boys before. Then there was the problem of the bruises on each of us. That was his fault.

So someone please explain to me why I gladly ended up kissing him back?

My heart was in my throat as we grew even closer. I could taste a bit of blood from where he had been messing with his lip, but I didn't really care like a rational person would have. In that moment, all I wanted was to get closer to him. Being the one who was taller due to the fact that Sam was still sitting, I had control over the kiss. His head tilted back when my fingers ran through his hair. God, it was even softer than I could have ever imagined.

His hands moved away from my face, to my hips, pushing me close to his chest. I obliged, gasping in air between kisses. Even though it still hurt to breath, I couldn't care less. There was nothing more I wanted to do. In that moment, I couldn't even think about the possible repercussions.

We continued on like that for a little while, before Sam finally pulled back to look at me. When he began to bite his swollen lip again, I took the opportunity to lightly brush my thumb across the soft surface.

"You need to break that habit." I whispered, slightly breathless after everything that just happened.

He suddenly burst out laughing, holding me close to him as he did so. When he finally regained his composure, Sam noticed the reluctant look in my eyes. His arms carefully wrapped around my shoulders, bringing my head to rest within the crook of his neck. I didn't protest even though I probably should have, letting him dictate my actions. His touch was so light against my skin, that it didn't even hurt despite how sensitive it was.

"I don't know what's happening." He whispered, his voice husky and raw from all of the yelling earlier.

"What do you mean?" I asked rather dumbly.

"Everything." Sam began chuckling softly, as though hysterical from the long day. I didn't dare move a muscle. "But specifically this. We hated each other a few days ago, but now I honestly just want to hold you. As embarrassing as that is to admit."

I closed my eyes. I just wanted to be held. I was never someone to enjoy touch. I had always been kind of secluded when it came to physical affection since I would always freak out when people touched me. Knowing that I didn't feel that way right then was equally as embarrassing for me, as it must have been for him.

Even my own mother hadn't held me in forever.

Yet, being engulfed in Sam's arms like that was one of the best moments of my entire life. Dramatic or not. I didn't care about what happened earlier. I didn't care that he was a boy. I didn't care that we were supposed to hate one other. I liked that kiss, and I liked that embrace.

"Maybe that's how things should be." I finally said.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, using the same words that I had a few seconds ago.

I smiled against his skin. "Radical and embarrassing. We do whatever feels right in the moment. And embarrass ourselves in the process." My face was burning, and I was glad that he could see it.

He laughed a bit into my hair, the both of us content to remain that way. And we did, for a little while.

But just like all good things, I was forced to pull away and face the marks on his skin.

"We need to talk about this." Sam said, implying the newfound colors on his face.

I sighed heavily, stepping back and running a hand through my already messy hair. I very much did not want to address that elephant in the room.

"I know." I groaned, not knowing what to make of everything. It just kept getting more bizarre.

"I don't know what the hell happened." His body was tense, and his eyes deep with emotion. "They are hellbent on bringing you into this, and I'd be lying if I said that it didn't scare me. I think I..." He trailed off.

I wanted to ask him to finish that sentence, but something about the way that his expression seemed to close off told me not to. I forced myself to sort out a few fragments of my scattered thoughts so that I may be able to create proper sentences to say aloud.

"They said you needed money." I said quietly, unsure of whether or not I should say anything at all.

Sam sighed, biting his lip again. "I know. It's complicated."

"I already know most of the story, you might as well tell me the rest."

"Alright." He agreed, thankfully without further protest. "Um, so what kind of ended up happening was that I became the delivery boy. It's fucked up, I know, but I needed to get him away from my parents. During a trip, I was with one of their guys and he was driving. The moron crashed the van, sending all of our drugs down into a river a few towns over. I think he was high."

I threw my head back, closing my eyes for a moment. That had to of been some of the most ridiculous shit I had ever heard. Could I possibly be any worse for itself?

"I know, it's stupid. The man I was with turned all of the blame onto me. Since most people already didn't like me, I've now got to repay them for all of their lost merchandise."

"That's such bullshit." I frowned.

"Preaching to the choir." Sam nodded. "I was told that if I give them extra money, they will officially leave me alone forever."

I opened my eyes skeptically. "And you believe them?"

After a pause wherein Sam chewed on his lip thoughtfully, he said, "I think so. If they don't, then I'll threaten the police or something."

I stared at him for a moment. Samson Warner was falling apart in front of me. His skin was marked with the hits he was willing to take all for the safety of his parents. His eyes were filled with determination, like I was in some sick version of Undertale. And he still managed to make my heart beat a little bit faster.

I didn't know where this was coming from, since I had never so much as looked at Sam in a good light once. Not until this whole thing began. I thought he just made me weirdly anxious, but now I think I'm attracted to him. And that look Sam had always given me... was that attraction all along?

Oh God, this just kept getting worse.

"I need to drive you home, it's almost time for your parents to get there."

I nodded, not saying anything while I waited downstairs for him to change into a clean shirt.

When I finally took a second to see myself in the mirror, I jumped.

It wasn't that my hair was a mess, since it always was. I usually just left it the way it was when I woke up. It was that my neck was an irritated array of colors. Purples, yellows, pink, reds, you name it. My skin had it. I lightly traced my fingers over the jagged line, wondering if I could even attempt to pass it off as a hickey gone wrong. I knew I couldn't.

My parents weren't going to be too thrilled.

I didn't think that I was thrilled either.

•O•O•