17 | A Boy

This is long as fvck jhdgsjdhkjsdk I couldn't break this chapter into two, pls bear w me T-T

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I don't want to fail.

I don't want to let my parents down again.

I don't want to make people pity me.

I- I don't... please...

Sam broke down, his head pounding and his throat tight. He was currently in his room, sitting on his desk, the doors and windows closed, crying his eyes out at something only he was aware of. He tried to be as quiet as possible, but it was getting harder by the second. The fact that his parents thought he was sincerely studying in his room hurt his heart even more. He heard his mom ask Kat to be quiet because it'd disturb him, and his sister actually obeyed her for once.

In between the mental crisis he was in, he heard his door click open - there was no knocking business in his house. He got himself together as much as possible, wiping his face and trying to act like he'd been studying.

"Sam, dear," his mom called out, "can I come in?"

Before he could answer, she just continued, "No, that's not necessary, just..."

He turned towards her, hoping with ever fiber in his body that his eyes weren't that noticeably red. His mom was standing by the door with a tender expression on her face. Don't cry. Don't cry, shut up.

"You've been stuck inside your room for the past few days, so I was- I am... I'm worried. You look so sleep deprived. Everything's okay, right? You did well...?"

"Y-yeah, I'm just... um-" He paused, the lump in his throat growing bigger and bigger. Stop it, don't cry, you f**king moron. "It's just the exams, I guess... I'm okay," he said, not knowing who he was trying to convince. His mom? Did he really think his face looked convincing enough? But his mom said nothing, just hummed in response and left. The door was still left ajar. After a good ten seconds, his mom came back in, and without a word, she wrapped her arms around her son and flattened his hair that was sticking out. Sam gulped, trying to drown his tears into his stomach, completely disregarding the fact that he had been drowning in those same tears mere seconds ago.

He didn't know how long his mom would stay this way, didn't know how long his mask would linger. He wanted it to be over as quickly as possible, but at the same time, he wanted it to last just a bit longer. He missed having someone's arms wrapped around him in a way that made the use of words unnecessary, because the love and care they wanted to express would just radiate off of them like bright rays of light and would seep into every nerve of his body. More specifically, he missed his mom. Her thin, fragile yet strong arms that knew its way around Sam. He saw her everyday, they talked to each other everyday, but that didn't change the fact that he hardly ever had time to properly express himself to his mother. He missed those times where he'd go to his mother's arms and cry because he fell down the stairs. Or because he was sad that his friend and he were fighting, though Sam barely had any even as a kid.

They stayed that way for what seemed like an eternity to Sam. He was able to compose himself and was able to stop crying. There was something magical about his mom - she knew exactly what he wanted and how much of it he needed. Taking a shaky breath and patting his mother's back, he said, "Mom, I'm really fine. You could use some sleep too, you know? I saw the bags under your eyes, don't try to lie to me."

His mom gave him a soft laugh, slowly pulling away from him. "Look at you, all... grown up."

In return, he did nothing but give her a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I realized that I'd made a terrible mistake in bringing you up, Sam," she confessed. "And I'm sorry for that. Seeing you like this makes me proud - my son is giving his all, studying day and night, tell me who wouldn't? But at the same time, I want you to erase the things we said to you. Your health comes first. Your happiness a close second. I don't want you to worry about failing or not being able to reach people's expectations, because what's the point of that when you're feeling empty inside?"

He looked up at the woman standing before him for the first time since a long time, close to tears again.

Caressing his cheek lovingly, she continued to say,  "I want you to know that we - your dad and I - will always love and be proud of you, okay? It's okay, it's okay if you're not able to score the best. No one wants you to become the next Einstein or the next Barak Obama. We want you to be Sam. The lovable and hardworking boy you are. Don't put your mental health at risk, Sam, it's a hard task to mend a person with a broken heart and mind. What matters is you giving your best. And you are. You're my boy, so of course you are," she said, laughing lightly at the last part of it. She took Sam's hand and gave it a light squeeze. Sam squeezed right back, trying to convey what he couldn't using words - I love you, mom.

With that, she left, leaving him all alone. He turned his chair over to face his table, trying to concentrate on studying yet again. And to no one's surprise, he couldn't. He thought of how worried June would be. Though he never showed it outside for the world to see, he knew of June's tendencies to worry about Sam to an irrational extent - well, who could blame him? He was there for Sam at his absolute lowest, and knew very well how his mind worked. June was someone who was mature and calm. To think that he'd made a person like him worry out of his guts made Sam's stomach sink into a pit of nothingness. Why did he do this? He honestly had no idea. He was too scared to take his phone and see the messages he knew his friends had left for him. He absolutely hated himself for having blocked June a day or two ago - he'd never done that before, no matter how mad he was. He didn't know what had gone over him when he did so but immediately upon registering what he'd done, he unlocked him and saw the hundred messages his dear friend had left for him. All of them showed nothing but pure love the other had towards Sam and Sam could do nothing but break down, because why does he care so much about me? What did I do to deserve someone like him?

Despite it hurting his soul and contradicting his previous thoughts, Sam had to accept the fact that even after all these years, even after seeing June express nothing but care and concern to a certain individual that was him, he was still insecure about their relationship. He was too afraid of thinking about "forever" or his "future" with June, because what if he left me when I need him the most? What if he takes advantage of my vulnerability towards him in the future? What if?

With controversial thoughts flooding his mind, Sam couldn't even think of studying. He didn't need things to distract him, his mind was enough to do that for him.

And then came Charles - Charles. The guy who he'd met so randomly and unexpectedly. The guy who'd come up to him and comforted him when he didn't need to. The guy whose eyes held genuine consideration and excitement at the sight of him. The guy who was tall, smiley and extremely friendly, all while being a shy, adorable mess in front of Sam. The same guy who was now close friends with him - someone who was probably more worried about him than June was at the moment. He didn't have the heart to ignore or block him by any means, but he couldn't help but stray away. He thought his mind was spreading diseases - diseases that were communicable - so he didn't want Charles, the precious boy he'd met a few months ago, to catch them. He didn't want to corrode him by his existence, didn't want him to know of Sam's cruel mind that kept feeding him poison.

He hesitantly searched for his phone and opened Charles's - and only his - contact to see if he had any new messages. Charles, after the first day, hadn't texted him at all and Sam didn't know why. It was selfish of him to think so, but he was immensely brought down when he thought of how Charles didn't care with sending him messages of comfort anymore. At least, that's what he thought; he wasn't aware of what the other boy was under. Maybe he wanted to give Sam some space - he was a hundred percent sure June would've thought that was what he needed and would've told Charles the same. Nevertheless, he unlocked the phone after not having done so for two days, only to see three messages from Charles. Three messages, and yet they managed to break open a new place in his heart he didn't know existed. I'm here. Please know that I'm here.

Sam again wondered why Charles insisted on sticking with him and being his friend when he didn't have anything to offer in return, because honestly, why would anyone want his friendship? People usually search for people who could be of some use, some help, right? No one cared enough about people to want nothing out of a certain relationship, as far as he knew. Even his parents weren't like that before - they'd wanted a lot of things from Sam, only few of which he could give them. But he considered Charles as exception after having been with the boy for quite some time. He didn't want anything from Sam, save his friendship, and Sam was no different. But what if all of that was just for show, too? What if he was just being the oblivious freaking idiot he was, not able to see through people at all?

With thoughts creating their own whirlpool inside his head, Sam had started to cry again, not able to contain himself. He hated how utterly weak he could be, hated how he couldn't be assured about the only relationships he considered mattered, hated every cell of his brain for feeding him the thoughts he didn't want.

He didn't know what the time was, or how long he spent sitting on his desk crying, but decided that enough was enough. He had a test to write - there was no more time left for him to waste.

With that, he started off. Since it was the last exam, he decided to give his best and make use of the time he had with him. Wiping his cheeks for what seemed like the tenth time that day, Sam slowly got a hold of himself and started working out problems. With Charles and June who'd helped him out throughout the two months, he got a good hold on doing math and currently considered it his favorite subject. There was just something - something most people chose to look past - about it that almost provided him comfort.

Ignoring his thoughts to the greatest extent he could, he continued to solve problem after problem, slowly getting immersed in it.

Suddenly, he heard a knock on his door. He was a little surprised, to say the least, as one, no one knocked on his door in his family and two, the time was what- 10pm?

Trying not to make any noise as he got up, Sam went to the door and opened it and was greeted by the sight of none other than his dear friend, Charles. What's he doing here...?

"Sam," he whispered, heaving a sigh - of relief? - as he went into the room, and captured Sam in a big, tight hug. He could feel the other boy trembling but didn't know why. They stood like that for a long time - Charles with his arms around Sam and his chin resting on Sam's hoodie-covered-shoulder, Sam slowly wrapping his arms around Charles's waist, burying his head into Charles's neck unintentionally, his chest and head giddy at the feeling. It felt funny - he felt the juices in his stomach churn in a way that made him want to squeal, but the feeling wasn't too bad. This was far from it - it felt a little too good. What's wrong with me, why's my heart pounding? Or is it his?

"You had us worried out of our minds, Sam... I hope you know that," Charles said, his voice small.

"I know..." he said, his voice thick from crying.

"Why- no, what..." he started, "what happened? Why did you suddenly just- stop talking to any of us? Not even June?"

"It was- I didn't..."

"You did. And you have some explaining to do, you know," he said, his voice sad. It hurt Sam more than it should've that his tone was sad rather than angry. He had every right to be angry at him, and yet he wasn't. Sam thought he was an absolute thickheaded asshole for having second guessed his friend's intentions. All the few memories he had with Charles coursed through his brain like a movie, each one filled with smiles and laughter from the both of them. None of them seemed like it was a lie, every one of it looked so pure and innocent. Within no time, Sam's eyes welled with tears again and before he realized it, he was crying into Charles's neck, his tears making his t-shirt wet. He'd had a long, tear-filled day and the last thing he wanted was to cry more. And yet here he was, crying, just when he thought he'd done enough of that, just when he thought his body was out of tears.

"Sam..." Charles called out, clearly anxious as to what to do. It wasn't Sam's intention to put him in the spotlight like this - despite it being just the two of them - because he knew what that felt like. But he wasn't able to hold it in, he was so tired - of making people worry, of making people treat him as something worth more than what he was, of his insecurities, of- of himself. He wanted it all to end, he wanted to wake up the next day and suddenly find out that all of his problems had been solved by an unknown angel and that he could stop being his scared, miserable self. He would no longer have anything to worry about and nor have anyone worry about him, and it would be peaceful.

Charles moved his hand up and down his back in a soothing manner, trying to stop Sam from crying. Sam eventually stopped and pulled away from Charles, wiping his face. Again. He knew his cheeks were red with the number of times he'd wiped it that day.

"I came here to help you," said Charles.

"H-help?"

"Yeah, I kinda figured you'd be like this, so I finished my work as fast as I could to help you do yours."

"Y-you don't have to, I- I'll... do it on my own, I don't want to burden-"

"Shh. You aren't being a burden to me. I'll say that as many times you want me to, Sam, because no one's forcing me to do this for you. I'm doing it out of my own will. I want to help you, I want to be your friend. I want to be someone you can rely on for anything. Anything."

Why? Why are you doing this out of your own will? I have nothing to give you in return.

"Oh, you do. See that small smile of yours? Give me that, it'll make my day better within seconds. See that little heart of yours? Let me in, and I'll be more than glad to mend it, more than glad to help you piece yourself together. You're not as useless as you think, Sam, I don't know what else to say that'll make you believe me."

"I... said that out loud..." was all he could say, too shocked after hearing what Charles had to say.

With a small laugh, he said, "Yes, you did. Don't tell me this is what you've been thinking of for the past few days..."

The way his face warmed up in embarrassment probably answered his question because Charles said, after taking a deep breath, "Okay. We'll keep this for later, yeah? Let's first finish studying first. Wait a sec, my bag's outside."

Once he was in, Sam asked, "How... how did you come in, though? Aren't my parents asleep?"

"June let your parents know that I'd come over. Oh, speaking of him..." He quickly took out his phone and started typing something to someone. To June?

"He loves you to death, you know?" Charles said all of a sudden. "He wouldn't let it show but I could see the way it was eating him up inside, the way you didn't reply to any of his texts."

Sam felt like a kicked puppy. He felt ashamed. But before he could voice it out loud, Charles continued, "Please don't feel bad about it. You did what you thought was right, your intentions weren't bad. He isn't mad at you and neither am I, okay?"

"Okay..." he said, not knowing what else to reply with.

"Okay, then. Let's get started, shall we? You're pretty good at math, though, you hardly need my help. What I came to help you with was just- um, emotionally be there, I guess?" he said, scratching his head, his face dusted with a shade of pink. Adorable, he thought.

He's adorable. Does he know that? Has anyone told him that?

WAIT, WHAT? I-

"-kay? This guy... As a first step," Charles interrupted, flicking his forehead with a pen, "you need to focus. I can't do that for you."

"Yeah, s-sorry," he said, and from then on, they both studied, both of their minds fixed on one thing - ace tomorrow's exam.

It was soon time for them to sleep - they both had a good talk before going to bed and Sam wouldn't even think denying the fact that he enjoyed every second of it. The way he got to see a new version of Charles, the way the roles were somehow reversed - Charles was a blushing and stuttering mess while Sam was the rational one - and the way they both easily fit into each other's presence had Sam's heart race with sheer happiness. This is definitely something I could get used to...

When they decided that it was enough for the day, Sam had made his bed for Charles and insisted on him sleeping on the floor on the mattress he and June used when June was over, but Charles refused to sleep on his bed. Sam freaked out and thoughts such as, "does he think my bed stinks? Wait, it doesn't, right?" swirled around his head but before Sam could say anything, Charles interrupted with, "You didn't get proper sleep, I know. You sleep on your own bed, I'll be more than comfortable taking the mattress. Now, good night!" he said, plopping himself on the mattress, quickly dozing off.

And Sam stared. He stared at the way Charles held his second pillow close to his chest, the way his right cheek was pressed against it adorably (ah, there it is again. Adorable), the way his hair was spread softly on the pillow, perfectly framing his face, the way his left hand was balled into a fist and was right near his nose, and, oh, his nose... Sam remembered the first thought he had of Charles when he first saw the boy up close. He has such a perfect nose. It suits him. Sam stared some more, thanking the gods and angels on his side who brought this human into his world. This precious human who had his ways of making Sam feel better - not just better in general, but better about himself. And that was exactly what he needed. He tried inching closer, feeling his face warm up and his heart dance, as he poked his friend's left cheek - the one that wasn't being squished. Almost in an inhumane manner, Sam internally squealed because of how soft it was. He quickly drew his hand away, trying to not think of anything as he buried himself in the comfort of his soft covers.

A boy. He's a boy. But...

I like him.

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BISH TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH HUH (no I'd never call my baby a b*tch, juss kiddingggg)

...that was roughly 3.6k words, lazily edited ones at that. I suggest you go get some water to drink or take a nap or smth (if you read it all at once lol)