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Sam looks at him. Her childhood best friend’s ex. But also he’s her best friend now. The person she wants to be around. The person they all tried to protect. But no matter what she would always be the one that got the demons attention. No matter what his shadow waves at her. No matter what she is Sam and he is Evan. Both in their heads enough about it. Burdens. The word neither of them like to throw out but nonetheless the word they think the most. They’ve been in each other’s thoughts. She carried him until they got him back. She did that. Not K. Not Jammer. She did. He trusted her to do that. Her. Sleep on her couch. Protect her. Always picking her up when she’s falling. No questions asked, protecting T2. Her dog. Her house. Him. His adoration. His admiration. His heart. Always seeing him—the real him.
̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. ˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩.
He was screaming,
“Just let me stay here”
Never leave this spot
Here on the couch
Here by her side
Here
̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. ˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩.
Stuck in the center of the air mattress between his ex and his best friend––because in their simplest titles that is what K and Sam are to him––Evan Kemlp's thoughts were the average conflicting mess. The urge to run away. I am danger. I am harm. The urge to stay. This is caring. This is love. Stuck as a human hotdog as the air slowly and eternally hissed out of the mattress. Stuck as Sam and K plant him in the middle aware he would escape any other way.
The hairs on Sam's arm stood up as she buried her head in Evan's chest. A cuddle pile should be more platonic than whatever the hell this was but they were the three of them, there was no normal for whatever this was... whatever it was was what it was. She wondered if he'd stir at the fact that hot tears were pushing out and onto his shirt. Because deep down she knew why the hairs on her arm were standing up. She felt them––just like she felt every presence and connection she made. Maybe she couldn't see the strings that attached people as clearly as before, but she knew a demon when she felt one. Something... someone was back.
̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. ˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩.
They didn’t even get to really sleep
He was so damn tired, just let him sleep
Everything was drawing him in, telling him stay here
Stay in her arms and never know violence again
̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. ˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩.
Sam knows, deep down she knows, but she has to see it. Over time, the less connection she felt with people the less she saw the lines. She never liked to believe in the golden thread or red string of fate. Destiny was not a word she particularly liked. If destiny was real, Evan would be dead, but Evan wasn't dead. She had saved him. She would keep saving him. Breaking her wand wasn't dramatic nor was it loud. In fact, it wasn't even all that hard. When your best friend––the man you love––has that familiar crushing weight on his chest, its like a mother lifting a car. Maybe it wasn't that hard because someone else was already there, prompting the break––always stalking that sneaky Tad. Now protecting. Evan had more protection than ever. The book was in Jammer's hands. Evan was in Sam's arms. The air mattress was deflated and they were falling in on each other but she didn't mind. Before this––before falling asleep and rediscovering demons––Evan mentioned coming to stay with her. He was picturing couch... She was picturing this. She shook the thought out of her head and hesitantly rolled out of the bed as he began to stir and the voices of K and Jammer got louder outside. Planning was happening. The two were bonding, K and Jammer; the lines Sam had missed so were glowing brighter. She glanced back at Evan as he deflated the mattress and wondered if all his admiration was just that––full stop, he's like that with everyone... but differently. She thinks this throughout the day. He is complimenting Jammer, holding him by the arm, insisting in the way that only Evan can, but it's different. He isn't calling Jammer the greatest wizard of all time. He's just calling him their leader who is full of magic no matter what reality is. Sam doesn't know what reality is. Sunday breakfasts with slow mornings and finally seeing Evan settled down and soft––not in the e-boy way K craved but in that softness you get when you can be yourself without defenses; how he is with Sam in the small moments. Engaging and calling upon Sam Butler of all people, though he has never known her as that. Sam shakes out of it, moving her gaze away from him and back out into the storm.
̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. ˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩.
Greatness is earned––
What she is nothing compared to greatness.
Why is he insisting she’s so great?
̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. ˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩.
Whatever this was it could not be true. She had enough complicated feelings about complicated feelings. Her ex was probably dead; K let him die. Another complicated feeling. K was being reckless. Sam’s childhood best friend was putting everyone including themself on the line. Sam and Evan had been talking so casually when he died. He dumped a body out the bag. Evan Kelmp says he will kill. Another complicated feeling. He has killed for K. Yeah, she stabbed Tad three years ago to save the school—whatever he did to Budaca was straight up murder. He says he would do that for Sam, kill for her. She doesn’t know if she wants that. All she knows is that she wants him. Another complicated feeling. Every conversation they have is just raising her up—greatest wizard—she wonders if this is what it is like to be her friend; she used to do this to him, always raising him up. He wants to sleep on her couch. He wants to be her dog. She could be reading into it all wrong; she never wants to read into their situation. Another complicated feeling. A situation. That’s what this is. He’s K’s ex and she’s K’s best friend and he’s her best friend and she’s catching feelings. But you don’t catch feelings on the dangerous mission—the life or death mission. You just don’t do that because if he dies then nothing in the world is right. Her house will feel empty even though he’s never been in it. Her life will be empty. She was regretting not being more persistent, the weak part of her brain wished she had begged him to come and visit. Because what if it was too late. She could die tomorrow and he’d never know she loved him. Another complicated feeling. This was love. She knew it was. There was no denying it anymore.
̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. ˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩.
There is something so calm in her violence
Gentle even