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The ceiling was oddly satisfying tonight as he stared up at it wondering about his mom. Was she ok? Was her soulmate kind? Was she coming home..?
She had left him and his dad when he was 5, her soulmate appeared one day when she felt the tug on her string and suddenly she was gone.
No more green tea on Wednesday, and no more “I love you my little ice cube.”, just his father and his damn carrot farm.
He wouldn’t say he had mommy issues, if anything he just had resentment for his her.
He rolled over in his bed, his teletubbies poster suddenly becoming mesmerizing. He ignores the droplets rolling down his face and going down his cheeks to his nose, he ignores the choked up sobs as he stifles them with his blanket.
Sam lays there, curls in his face, some sticking to his wet cheeks from his tears that totally were not there.
He ignores them.
He ignores the heavy pain in his chest, and ignores how his whole body felt heavy and sluggish. He ignores how his arms burn and itch in a way he promised to avoid.
He was a big kid now, 13 years old, he shouldn’t be crying like a little baby. He knows better than to let himself be so stupid.
He squeezes his eyes shut, silently praying for it to all go away, simultaneously hoping that meant she would come back too.
He huffs, realizing he had been holding his breath to stop his sobs. His ears felt heavy on his head, and they moved uncomfortably trying to get away from his overwhelming senses.
Sam sits up, he turns his lamp on, and tries to look anywhere but his dresser for a distraction.
He finds mister snugglemuffins. He hugs him tightly, wiping his snort covered face into the teddy bear, he cries into his light brown fur, whimpering sadly and mumbling prayers of a life unlike hers.
“I don’t want a soulmate.” He repeats to himself. “Please, universe don’t..”
Sam wakes up in a cold sweat, tears in his eyes and his chest rising and falling quickly. He looks around, a staircase in the corner of the room, an open curtain put there for separation but never shut, and another bed in the opposite corner.
He huffs heavily, wiping his face, desperately trying to calm himself down, worried he’ll wake up the sleeping boy in the room with him.
He can’t though.
He doesn’t know how to calm himself, he wants to paint, he wants to use red, he wants- “Sam?” A voice calls out to him in a whisper.
He looks up, eyes darting over to the opposite side of the room, round and concerned eyes greet him and he can’t control the sob that escapes him.
“Oh babe- What’s wrong?” Grian gets out of his bed, slowly moving to approach his crying boyfriend, his voice is soft and comforting and Sam can’t help but desperately make grabby hands in his direction so he knows exactly what he wants from him.
Grian gets into his bed, under his covers, under one of his arms as he is wrapped up into a hug. Sam holds him tightly, as if he would disappear if he didn’t. The blonde sighs, hugging him back, kissing his cheek and forehead to calm him down.
“You’re okay..” He whispers.
That alone reassures him.
He was okay.
He would be ok.
Grian plays with his hair, still kissing him all over his face. He praises him, reassures him..
He loves him.
Sam loves him too.
But.. He misses her.
He still misses a woman he never properly got to know, and misses her honey brown hair, and her sweet laugh, and her lullabies.
He misses his mom.
Even if Grian didn’t understand, or get it, he still held Sam like he was meant to be in a museum, like he was statue so fragile he could shatter with only a breath.
He holds him so gently because- “I love you, Sam..” He says.
Because of that.
“I.. I love you too, Grian.”