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“You remind me of… him,” Spencer murmured, pressing his knees closer to his chest.
“Yeah, I know,” Sam replied, eyes fixed on the sand as his fingers drifted lightly over its surface.
The season neared its end, and Spencer had somehow made it to the final four. Against all odds, he’d done it. He’d played a smarter game this time—made fewer enemies, carried fewer targets on his back, and, for the first time… truly gone unseen. Like a pinch of salt buried in the sand.
If only he could get his love life sorted…
Sam had joined him on the beach, both of them barefoot as the ocean lapped gently at their toes. Sam was… kind. Sure, he’d been a pain in the ass, but when it came down to surviving this game, they could hardly stay out of each other’s way. In the end, they’d grown close—perhaps too close.
“You know,” Sam said softly, “I still have feelings for you…”
“Sam, I—”
“You’re the risk I’m willing to take, Spence,” Sam interrupted, his hand sliding gently to cup Spencer’s cheek. “It’s just who I am.”
He had such a way with words—Sam always seemed to know exactly what to say, how to say it, and when to say it. It wasn’t just the words themselves, either; it was the way he said them, with that quiet certainty that made people listen and made people believe. He could make even the simplest sentences feel like a lifeline, like the answer to a question Spencer hadn’t even realized he’d asked.
He was… Sam, after all. Charming, clever, and infuriating in the best possible ways. Spencer had long ago learned that Sam could disarm almost anyone with a glance, a word, or a touch. And right now, standing there with Sam’s hand cupping his cheek, the honesty in his voice was intoxicating. It made Spencer’s chest tighten in ways he couldn’t quite name.
Yet something wasn’t right. Something Spencer couldn’t ignore, no matter how much he wanted to.
“As much as I want you…” Sam’s voice faltered, the words thinning as they left him. He looked away for a moment, jaw tightening as if bracing himself. When he finally met Spencer’s eyes again, there was something softer there—resigned, but still hopeful. “You don’t want me. I can feel it.”
“Sam, please—”
“The way you hesitate. The way you pull back even when you’re right here with me.” His thumb brushed Spencer’s cheek once, lingering before dropping away. “Your heart isn’t fully here.” He exhaled, almost a sigh, almost a laugh. “It belongs to someone else… doesn’t it?”
Spencer wanted to run, to cry, to say something… but he just couldn’t. He had to give him an answer, at least for his sake—
“Yes… my heart belongs to someone else,” Spencer admitted at last.
Sam slowly nodded, like the confirmation hurt but hadn’t surprised him. “I thought so,” he said under his breath. “They’re lucky, you know. Whoever it is.”
Whoever it is…
It wasn’t a mystery. It never had been.
Diego had claimed his heart long before Sam ever stood a chance—had softened it, reshaped it, and made a home there without even trying. That wasn’t Sam’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really.
Spencer missed him. God, he missed him. He missed Diego despite everything that had gone wrong. But who was he fooling? Diego had probably moved on by now.
And if he had… Spencer couldn’t even blame him.
Before Spencer could respond, Sam leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It was very brief and careful but reverent all the while. Not a claim. Nor a plea. Just a goodbye.
“Good luck, Spence,” he said softly as he reached for his sandals and stood. “And if it isn’t me at the end… I hope it’s you.”
Spencer swallowed. “…I hope you win too.”
Soon enough, Sam turned and walked away, his sandals dangling loosely from his hand. He wasn’t storming off, nor was he angry—just wounded.
Spencer watched him go. For a moment, he considered calling out, running after him, and saying something—anything—to soften the blow. But he knew better. There was nothing left to fix, no words that wouldn’t only reopen the wound. Chasing after him now would’ve been selfish, a comfort Spencer didn’t deserve.
So he stayed where he was.
With a slow, weary sigh, Spencer turned his gaze back to the ocean. The waves rolled in and out, rippling across the shoreline as if nothing had changed at all. He focused on that rhythm, on the way the water erased footprints as easily as it made them.
He wished Diego were here—selfishly, desperately. Not just wanted, but needed…
He hugged his knees tighter, chin resting against them. “I wish you were here,” Spencer murmured, the words stolen by the wind before they could mean anything.
“Yeah, Spence?” A familiar voice spoke beside him.
Spencer went completely still—he hadn’t heard any footsteps, no shift in the sand, and no warning at all that anyone had approached him. Slowly, he turned his head to see Diego sitting beside him in the sand, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. Barefoot. Sweetly relaxed. Real in all the ways Spencer’s memories insisted he should be. His hair was damp, like he’d just come from the water, with curls darkened by the salt, with that smile of his. Pleasantly warm…
Spencer’s breath hitched, catching painfully in his chest. “…You’re not here,” he whispered.
Diego glanced out at the ocean, then back at him. “No,” he agreed easily. “But you needed me.”
Spencer pulled his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes, as if that might clear whatever trick his mind was playing on him—but when he looked again, Diego was still there. Still smiling at him, that soft, affectionate smile that made Spencer’s chest ache. His brown curls framed his face just as perfectly as Spencer remembered, those warm brown eyes gentle and impossibly kind… simply stunning.
Spencer laughed under his breath, broken. “Guess I finally lost it, huh?”
Diego nudged him gently with his shoulder. “Seems like you’ve have…”
Despite himself, Spencer smiled. It didn’t last long. “I messed things up,” he admitted. “Again.”
“You were honest with yourself,” Diego said. “That’s not messing up. You followed your heart.”
“It still hurt him.”
“Yeah,” Diego said quietly. “Sometimes doing the right thing still hurts.”
Spencer swallowed hard. His gaze lowered to the sand between his feet. “What if you’ve moved on?” he asked, barely audible. “What if I’m holding onto something that doesn’t exist anymore?”
It grew quiet—too quiet. Spencer almost thought Diego had finally vanished, but when he lifted his gaze, he was still there. Thinking. His brows were drawn together in that endearing way they always did when he was lost in thought.
“Then you loved someone real,” he said. “And that doesn’t disappear just because time keeps moving.”
“You always were… perfect, weren’t you?” Spencer murmured, his eyes burning as they began to water.
“As were you.”
Spencer’s gaze wandered back to the ocean. A wave rolled in, cold water brushing against his toes and making him wince. He snapped his head around instinctively—but when the tide pulled back, Diego was gone.
Only the empty stretch of sand remained beside him, smooth and untouched. Like he’d never been there in the first place.