Chapter Text
January 8th, 2019.
A new semester was like a breath of fresh air. Sam had survived his first round of finals, finishing with an A in everything and he could feel the pride coursing through his veins still. His 4.1 GPA was the highest it had ever been, and in all honesty, it made him a bit cocky.
His first period of the day was AP Literature and Composition, with Ms. Mulrose. He remembered back to when he took Language and Composition last year, and hoped the class had people he actually knew in it this time.
“Bye, good luck,” Becca signed to him as they approached his classroom door, her keys swinging on the lanyard around her finger. She drove him to school every day, mostly because Sam was a horrid driver and having him on the road was a crime to humanity , in her words. He even had his license, and a small car, yet the girl insisted to pulling into his driveway every single morning, iced coffee waiting for him.
Sam smiled at her as he walked into the room, taking a seat at the front of the class so that he could see what the teacher was saying. He hated having to improvise and guess, exactly the reason why he hated Chemistry with Mr. Albatross. The man insisted of never keeping his lips visible, and Sam nearly made a B in his class people he always had no idea of what he was saying.
Looking around the classroom, the only person he recognized was Cassandra Pressman, his cousin he didn’t talk to as often as he should. A smile graced his lips as their eyes met, Cassandra waving after tearing her attention away from the girl next to her. Sam remembered back to when they were kids, and he used to go over the Pressman’s house and eat s'mores with the girls and watch movies. When middle school hit, they didn’t talk as much. When high school hit, they didn’t talk at all.
Becca was virtually his only friend. Sure, he had other people, like Elle Tomkins who was the quiet girl in his math class from last semester, and Kelly Aldrich, Becca’s girlfriend. But Becca was the one who mattered, and he spent most of his time with her. However, it wasn't exactly his fault. People simply just didn't talk to him, and he returned the favor.
The tardy bell rang, and the woman at the front of the class turned to the students with a smile. She was in her early thirties, with brunette hair and a short frame. She seemed to never grow out of her baby face, and her chubby cheeks were tinged red with what looked to be rosacea. “Hi, everyone,” her cheery grin flashed her perfectly straight, yet coffee stained teeth. “I’m Ms. Mulrose.”
The students in the classroom looked at if they didn’t want to even be there, gloomy faces and no emotions beyond that. Sam seemed to be the only person that smiled back, and it was only because her happiness was infectious. “Alright, stand up with your bags! To the back of the classroom!”
Sluggishly, the students made their way to the back of the classroom, as she pointed to random pairs of people, pushing desks together and making some go to the hallway, some sitting on the floor. They were ordered to learn enough facts about their partner to write a 750 word argumentative essay on why their partner deserves to be let off death row. It was the weirdest assignment that Sam ever received, yet he looked to the boy across him with his dimples showing.
“Hi, I’m Sam.”
“Gareth, but you can call me Grizz. Or Gareth, doesn’t matter.”
August 7th, 2019.
Grizz’s room was the one place he felt safe. And there were so many memories, involved with so many people in his life. It was where he and Sam kissed for the first time, where he lost his virginity, where they shared their first I love you . Yet now, it was all packed away, his walls barren, clothes in a suitcase and the only thing left was his green and black plaid bedspread. The smell of vanilla wasn't in the air, because there were no candles. There wasn't any noise, because there was no record player. It was simply Grizz and Sam, on top of his blankets, sitting with their legs crossed as they sat in silence, trying to savour their last moments together before he had to leave. And it pained Grizz the most, because he can't believe he waited until senior year to talk to him, because he wasted so much time and now, they were 7 months into dating and it felt like a blink and he wanted more. He needed more time, more memories, because so much time was wasted being straight. And there wasn't anything to do to get that time back.
His fingers ran over the rippling fabric, his eyes closing as he remembered the last seven months. How good this summer was, taking Sam to the carnival and winning him so many prizes that they had to steal a garbage bag from one of the booths. Taking Sam to the meadow he found in the middle of the woods, where they ate picnic food and made out until their lips were swollen. The night after graduation where they laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling for hours with their fingers laced together, thinking back to high school. Even their individual grad parties, which was simply an excuse to get so wasted that they didn't remember the previous night,
“This is the last time we’re gonna be in this room, like this,” Grizz whispered, looking at Sam with sorrow filled eyes. He signed haphazardly as he spoke, his sign language increasing over the months to the point he was nearly fluent. The tears in his eyes hovered over his waterline, like a dam begging to break. “When we come back for Thanksgiving we’re going to be different people, Sam.”
“Maybe you’ll have better fashion,” Sam joked. He always knew how to break a serious moment. His airplane ticket sat on Grizz’s nightside table, his suitcase already in the trunk of his car. All of his belongings had been shipped to UCLA, waiting for him in the office of his dormitory. “Maybe you’ll be a better kisser.”
“I’m a great kisser!” Grizz laughed through his tears, smacking his boyfriend across the shoulder playfully. They began to fall down his cheeks now, some settling in the corners of his lips, trailing down his neck or dripping off his chin and onto his sheets. They left dark marks where they landed, reminders of how painful this moment in his life was.
Sam leaned over, brushing a thumb over his left cheek, which was red from him trying to hold in his sadness. The ginger boy’s head dipped, catching the other’s lips in his own, pressing them together in a sloppy haste. It was kind of gross, but Sam could taste the saltiness that the tears left on his lips, and his own cries were currently hanging on the edge of his eyes. He found himself getting lost inside his favorite person, swimming in the affection and drowning in the way it felt to be in his arms. He pulled away, lips and cheeks red, eyes still glassy. “We can do this, Gareth.”
He always demanded on calling him by his own name. It was never Grizz, only Gareth, or baby. Sam insisted that his name was so pretty, he had no reason to shorten it into something it wasn’t. In the same regard, Sam was only ever called Sammy. He hated the nickname, but Grizz loved to look at the red tinge of his cheeks whenever he said it.
“I don’t want to leave,” Grizz sighed, resting his forehead against Sam’s. With the quickness of a fox, he wrapped his arms around the boy and they were laying on his bed for the last time for a while. Sam’s arms tangled themselves around his neck, fingers in his hair and Grizz let his hands rest on the boy’s waist. They stayed like that in pure silence, all the way until they had to go to the airport. And when they had to go to the airport, was when it truly hit Grizz that the next time they would see each other was in November. Three whole long months without each other's warmth when they were used to being together every day.
Grizz cried in the airport as Sam walked away, cried even more as Sam looked back at him from the escalator. But the drive home, he was an absolute mess, listening to the playlist he wish Sam could head and having to pull over on the interstate because he couldn’t see through his messy tears. It seemed pathetic, sitting on the side of I-95 with his head pressed against the steering wheel, his sobs shaking his shoulders as he let out all of the emotions he was trying to hide from his boyfriend.
Deep down, he knew things were going to change, and that was what scared him most. Because if he was this much of a mess when Sam left him temporarily, he couldn’t imagine if Sam left him for good.
October 22nd, 2023
The book was absolutely everywhere, and it made Sam want to rip his eyes out of their sockets, and use them as basketballs. In This Moment by Gareth Visser was in front of all the bookstores, everywhere on his social media timelines, and was number one on the New York Times best sellers list. His face haunted him, and it hurt.
The contemporary young adult novel was said to be wise, yet still childlike and displayed the feelings of adolescence in a way the world simply hadn’t seen before. It showed characters that were real, situations that were plausible but still felt enough like a book where readers could immerse themselves in the world.
Sam would know. He read it four times.
Now, to most people, reading your ex boyfriend/ex high school sweethearts best selling novel would sound as if you’re rubbing salt on the wound, especially with the badly ending break up that had happened. But as soon as he went on Facebook and saw his mom posting about her son’s first published book, he ordered it off of Amazon Prime within two minutes, and read all 413 pages in the day it came in the mail.
It was much like rubbing battery acid in his wound, he found.
Because the book was about them . It was so much about them that it made his ears ring, and his heart beat rapidly as if it was going to rip out of his chest. Because it was fiction, but the main character was so much like Sam, and the love interest so much like Gareth, and everyone he went to school with knew it.
The tear stained copy had a specific place in his studio apartment, in his bedside table, the second drawer down, on top of his candle lighter and other useless shit that he accumulated. In the past few months since the book came out, he would open the drawer at 3 am, and stare at it for nearly 20 minutes, before slamming it closed and screaming into his pillow.
And now, as he stood in the middle of the bookstore, staring at the display that held twenty thousand copies of his ex’s book, all he could think of was the influx of text messages from his old friends about how Grizz wrote a book about you!
No shit.
It was fucking embarrassing. Because at the end of high school, they were so in love. He can remember all of the things they did together, how they sat with each other at lunch and Sam became used to his idiot, meathead friends, and Prom and Graduation. And now it felt like a piece of him was bared to the world because sure, everyone knew Sam was deaf and liked books but they didn't know that he cried while watching most animated movies, or that he was absolutely terrified of thunderstorms because despite not being able to hear the thunder, he could feel it beneath his fingertips. Gareth knew that. And now, the people he sat next to in AP environmental science knew, and his dumb ass brother knew.
At some points in the book, Sam got these weird feelings of deja vu, and it took him a few times before realizing that they were things that he said at some point in times. Whether it be in a silly, playful argument or something he said laying in Gareth's bed with no clothes on, talking about the deepest things they could think of. And it was so obviously about him that he couldn't even deny it, and it made him develop a new sense of anger at the boy, who in one point in time, he couldn't ever be angry towards. It completely and utterly pissed Sam off, because he wanted to get away and move on.
Yet he couldn't.
Someone came to stand next to him, and when Sam looked over, it was a teenage girl with blonde hair. She seemed to be 18, and dressed like your typical LA girl. “Have you read it?” Nod. “Is it good?” Freeze.
Sam weighed the options in his head. He could either be a petty bitch, the only he wanted to be, or he could be supportive. “It’s alright.” Signing as he spoke, the girl nodded and picked up a copy from the shelf. The answer was average. He smiled as she signed back thanks.
The vibrating phone in his pocket seemed to break his attention as he pulled it out of his jeans.
TEXT MESSAGE FROM -- HARRY BINGHAM
CONVERSATION WITH -- CASS, KELLY AND 42 OTHERS!
CLASS OF 2019 REUNION, 7 PM, DAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING IN THE WEST HAM
EVENT CENTER. SPREAD THE WORD. BE THERE
OR BE SQUARE!