Archive of Our Own

Knowing someone for over a decade meant memorizing each and every single thing about them, starting with the most obvious and normal ones, such as their favorite color, or the things they were allergic to, y’know, basic stuff. But knowing them for that long also meant remembering all the minute details that others didn't pick up on. Silly stuff, really. How their mood shifted based on the weather, what was their preferred sleeping position, the way their nose scrunched slightly, and their eyes crinkled, whenever they smiled…

Or, maybe, Colby was just obsessed. 

He had been in this predicament for over a year now, if he was being completely honest. Well, it was happening for much longer, but only now he was finally willing to admit what was truly happening. 

The predicament? Being in love with his best friend. Pathetically so. No, really, it was downright concerning just how in love he actually was. 

It was hard to keep acting, as if nothing was happening, even when he became more… aware of the feelings, he supposed. Each little touch was driving him up the walls and each time he looked at Sam, he couldn't stop staring. 

But the funniest part? It seemed like everyone was noticing, except for Sam. The amount of TikToks he'd been seeing was actually hilarious — just clips from their videos where he would just look at Sam, not blinking at all, not even breathing. Suddenly, he understood why the way he looked at his best friend was once described as ‘romantic’. 

Colby wanted it to stop. 

This whole thing was turning his nights into just staring contests with the ceiling, as he kept thinking and thinking and thinking. Sam had always been the biggest part of his life, but now the man occupied the majority of his mind, too. 

That was exactly how Colby found himself kneeling by his bed, his hands clasped together, his eyes closed. 

Colby remembered how he would pray when he was just a kid  — for that one girl in his class to like him back, for a better grade in his math class, for his parents not to find out he was about to sneak out from the house. None of it mattered, it was all so insignificant. 

And now, after so many years, Colby started to pray again, each night, but this time, he begged God to make this stop. To stop these feelings once and for all, so everything could go back to how things used to be. He wanted to hug Sam without feeling like he was somehow using his best friend. He wanted to look at Sam without letting his mind wander to places they weren't supposed to. And he wanted to be around Sam without feeling like he was suffocating. 

Colby wanted all of this to stop. He just hoped God would've been merciful enough. 

Traveling across the country for a video had never seemed this exhausting. They had decided on going to New York, after thoroughly researching the next haunted location — this time, they had landed on the Amityville Horror House. A very well-known spot with a lot of paranormal activity, due to the gruesome murder that had taken place there back in the 70s.

Being stuck on a plane for five hours was bad enough, but being right next to a person that was causing Colby the worst emotional turmoil of his life was even worse. 

Sam was curled up in his seat, his head leaning against Colby's shoulder, as he tried to get some sleep before they had to start shooting. He looked so incredibly peaceful like this — it wasn't even the first time he was seeing his best friend like this, but ever since his discovery, Colby had realized that during these moments, Sam looked so… pretty. 

Again. This was so embarrassing. Colby was almost thirty — a grown-ass man — and he was acting like a teenager with a crush. Wasn't that just pathetic? 

On top of everything, he could be getting some much-needed sleep, but instead he spent his entire free time on the plane just watching Sam, feeling like a fucking creep. 

Colby forced himself to look away, squeezing his eyes shut, as he begged God to perform a miracle right that moment, so he could go back to how things were before and just have a normal relationship with his best friend, instead of whatever this was. 

But had there ever been ‘normal’? Had his feelings ever been just platonic, or had it always been something more?

Those were some of the questions that kept going through his mind each morning when he woke up, and his feelings were still there, if not even stronger. Did the Lord forsake him? He wasn't sure if he even wanted to think about it.

“Sam,” whispered Colby, gently shaking Sam by his shoulder. Nothing, except for a slurred protest, as Sam buried his face deeper into Colby's arm. “Sammy,” he repeated, shaking him harder. 

Finally, Sam opened his eyes, scrunching his nose in displeasure, and Colby was pretty sure he was never going to get sick of how cute that expression looked. “What?” he mumbled in between a yawn. 

“We're gonna land soon, dude,” said Colby, looking out of the small window. He could already make out the airport underneath them and some cars with bags driving around. “I don’t want to hear you whining about how the pressure in your ears is killing you.”

“I don’t whine, thank you very much,” mumbled Sam, rolling his eyes, even as he looked far too fond. He leaned over Colby to look out of the window as well, a small smile settling on his face. “It’s been ages since we’ve done an investigation alone, no?” 

Colby could only nod in response, the movement far too stiff. He’d been doing everything in his power to avoid these types of investigations, far too scared to be completely alone with Sam on camera. But fans had been demanding their solo content for a long time now, and they couldn’t possibly keep refusing for that long — mainly because Sam was fucking excited about doing a solo investigation. Sure, he loved doing collaborations, but according to his words, it was always supposed to be the two of them. 

Sam and Colby against the world; exactly how it was supposed be. 

When the plane safely landed, and they managed to finally get out (people just loved to block the aisle), they headed towards the taxis outside the arrivals hall. Once they were inside and the taxi was headed towards the hotel, Sam was already rambling about how excited he was for the investigation, mentioning all the paranormal stuff people had seen throughout the years. 

Colby used these moments before filming to indulge himself. He was looking at Sam with a soft smile on his lips, nodding and humming to show he was paying attention. His best friend could always get so passionate about these things and about finding an undeniable proof of the supernatural. And while Sam had always been attractive no matter what, he was the prettiest when getting excited — the spark in his eyes was so captivating, and it never seemed like people truly appreciated it in a way that Colby did. Who cared. This was all for him, anyway. No one was ever going to see Sam like this: unguarded and free. 

He couldn’t have all of Sam, for he wasn’t worthy, but he could have these moments that no one else could see. It didn’t matter that his heart was heavy, that it was breaking each day, because the Lord allowed him to have this much. Because He kept Sam in his life no matter what. 

And that had to be enough. It just had to. 

Colby wasn’t one to go against God’s will, especially not when it was more than obvious that their bond wasn’t supposed to be more than platonic. It seemed like he was already testing fate by simply indulging himself in moments like these. 

By looking at Sam. By thinking about Sam. By existing around Sam. 

Colby had never felt this wrong. 

Setting everything up for the recording was mechanical, but it gave Colby something to occupy his mind with. Setting up the cameras in various locations of the house, deciding on where to start their investigation, making sure they had all of their equipment near… He’d done it so many times, but he had never been so thankful for how mundane the tasks were. 

“Need any help?” asked Sam and suddenly Colby felt his hand on his shoulder, making him freeze for a moment — it was the most innocent touch, and yet, here he was. He really was embarrassing, wasn’t he? They’d been clingy with each other their entire lives, so why did it suddenly have to be different? 

“Nah, dude,” said Colby, swallowing around nothing. “I’m pretty much done. We can start whenever you’re ready.”

Sam flashed him a bright smile, nodding his head. He looked so fucking excited, and Colby couldn’t help, but match his smile — whenever the excitement was radiating off of Sam, he got back his boyish look, despite being almost thirty. It was really the most adorable thing in the world. 

When they finally started recording, Colby kept in mind the rules he had come up with, whenever he was on camera: not looking at Sam too long, not touching him unless it was absolutely necessary, and not acting like a pathetic idiot. 

Simple, no? Colby thought so, too. 

Ever since this whole problem had started, Colby wasn’t even that opposed to doing the Estes method — it gave him the opportunity to be completely unaware of Sam, even when they were right next to each other. Finally, no more moments of him being embarrassing. Small victories and all. 

“Dude,” spoke Sam, his eyebrows furrowing. He was standing right in front of Colby, making him blink quickly. Just when did Sam get this close? “You good? You’re staring at nothing,” he continued, trying to follow where Colby had been looking. 

Colby squeezed his eyes for a moment, before dragging his hand across his face. It was so easy to completely lose himself in his thoughts, as long as they involved Sam. And wasn’t that completely shameful? To even think of his best friend in ways that weren’t platonic? 

“Yeah,” he said finally, letting his hand fall from his face. “Just a little tired, I guess. It’s been a long day.”

Sam nodded, but the worried expression had yet to disappear from his face. Colby fucking hated it. He really did. Because Sam was seeing right through him, but chose to believe him. He believed Colby would never lie to him. Not like this. 

Colby was such a fucking fraud. 

“Do you want to call it a night?” asked Sam, cocking his head in the direction of the main door of the house. “To be fair, we do have enough footage for a pretty long video, and we already went through the whole house.”

“Sorry, man,” mumbled Colby, rubbing one eye with his fist. 

Sam shook his head, patting Colby on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out things and go, yeah?” 

Colby only nodded mutely, already forcing his body to move on autopilot, getting all the things done. Carefully packing all the equipment back into bags, before loading the trunk of the car they had rented out early that morning. Now, all that was needed to be done was driving back to the hotel, getting maybe four hours of sleep, before heading to the airport and flying back to LA. Do not get him wrong, Colby loved what they were doing, but the traveling all across the country (and sometimes the world) was going to kill him one day. 

Not this time, but one day, for sure. 

Colby yawned loudly, his jaw cracking in the process, when he put all things in the car. The thought of a hotel room bed was the only thing keeping him up at that point, even as his eyes were going blurry. 

“I’ll drive,” said Sam, his voice so firm that it made Colby turn around with a frown on his face. 

Colby opened and closed his mouth a few times, before narrowing his eyes. “I always drive,” he mumbled after a moment. 

“Yeah, but you also look like you’re going to fall asleep standing up,” replied Sam, shrugging one shoulder. He put his hand in Colby’s pocket to grab the car keys, wiggling his fingers around for a moment, before finally finding what he was looking for. The whole time, Colby stood there frozen, his eyes wide and his arms flailing uselessly, before ending up half-raised in the air. He was so fucking thankful the cameras weren’t rolling. 

“You could’ve just asked,” huffed Colby, trying to sound exasperated, hoping his flustered tone couldn’t be heard. Well, to be fair, Sam was also incredibly oblivious. 

Sam laughed, grinning like the fool he was, as he sat behind the wheel to start the car. With a sigh, Colby followed him into the car, buckling his seatbelt. Over the course of the years, he got so used to being the driver, apart from the occasional times he switched with Sam. To be fair, Sam was the only person he actually trusted behind the wheel. 

“Would you, Colby?” asked Sam, pulling Colby out of his thoughts. 

Colby turned his head to look at Sam, rubbing the back of his head, looking a little sheepish. “Sorry, I completely zoned out.”

“I said that you wouldn't give me the keys, even if I asked,” chuckled Sam, looking at Colby from the corner of his eye. His face did something complicated for a moment, before settling on that worried expression. “You're not just tired, are you?”

Colby could himself freeze for a second, before letting out a forced laugh. “What are you talking about, dude?”

“You've been weird,” said Sam, his eyes firmly set on the road before them. His shoulders were tense, and his fingers were gripping the steering wheel. “Not just today. It's been happening for a while.”

Okay, so maybe Sam wasn't as oblivious as it seemed. That wasn't ideal. Fuck. Shit. Sam was never supposed to notice anything; this was supposed to be a secret that he was meant to take to his fucking grave. 

“I'm not being weird,” said Colby, putting as much conviction behind his words as possible. “Like I said, I'm just tired. I haven't been getting much sleep.” That wasn't necessarily a lie. 

Sam tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, the muscle in his jaw twitching. Then, he just nodded, opting for a silent treatment, instead. Fucking fantastic — exactly what he fucking needed. Silent treatment. Sam was stubborn enough to not talk to Colby until they got back to LA.

Colby slumped in his seat, watching the road before him. Sure, if Sam wanted to do this, he could, too. The next morning, he was going to come up with a better lie than just being tired — though, he did need some rest. Desperately so. 

If the rest of the drive was bad, being in a hotel room together was downright awful. Sam still wasn't talking to Colby, as he changed to his pajamas (Colby was looking everywhere, but at Sam), his expression twisted into a scowl. He hated that look, as well. 

“Okay, no, fuck this,” hissed Sam, when Colby walked out of the bathroom, once he was done brushing his teeth. It seemed like Sam's silent treatment was done, which could be the best, or the worst thing to happen. 

“What?” asked Colby, keeping his voice even.

Sam gestured vaguely at Colby, then himself, and then at them both. Knowing his best friend for this long, he already had a good idea what the next words were going to be. “I know that if I'll give you enough time, you'll come up with some bullshit to keep me satisfied.”

“I wouldn't—”

“Stop fucking lying!” shouted Sam, taking quick steps towards Colby. “I've had enough of all of those fucking excuses. Again, not just today, but for the past few months you've been like this.”

Colby averted his gaze, feeling far too guilty to even look at Sam for too long. “Like what?”

“You can't be fucking serious, dude,” huffed Sam. “You're avoiding me, or something.”

“Avoiding?” That made Colby look back at Sam, his brows furrowing. “I'm right here! We're hanging out, I'm not avoiding you.”

“You are,” insisted Sam, narrowing his eyes. “It's like… anytime I come too close to you, you get closed off. It's almost like you don't even want me around.”

Oh, and Sam couldn't be more wrong. Because Colby wanted his best friend to be around at all times, and that was the main problem here. Because he couldn't want that. He wasn't supposed to want Sam like that, especially not when he knew his best friend didn't even feel the same. It was wrong of him to keep indulging himself in these quiet moments they shared — those casual touches and looks. It felt like he was using Sam. 

“I want you around. Of course, I want you around,” said Colby, wanting to reach his hand out to Sam, before deciding against it. “I'm just…”

“Tired, right,” muttered Sam, his voice turning so bitter that it made Colby wince. “Can you at least try being more convincing? No, actually, trying getting more creative, ‘cause this is just getting old.”

Colby clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “Okay, what the fuck do you want from me, dude?”

“I want my best friend back,” said Sam, his hands clenching into fists. “Because even when you're right in front of me, it seems like you aren't even here.”

Colby could feel his heart clench so hard it made his chest hurt. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying to take in a deep breath. “You have me. I am still here,” he whispered, unable to talk more loudly.

Sam shook his head, kissing his teeth. His shoulders were tense, just like back in the car. “It feels like you're going somewhere I can't follow you,” he said, his voice wavering. “It's supposed to be Sam and Colby against the world, right? But it can't be like that unless I know what's wrong. Just… talk to me? If there's anything that I did to make you angry, just say it.”

“No!” blurted out Colby. “I'm not angry with you. Never.”

It was the truth. Colby could never force himself to be angry with Sam, even when he had every right to. It had always felt like such an impossible task — one look from Sam, and Colby could feel all of his anger leaving him. He was a weak, weak man. 

“Then what exactly is happening?” asked Sam through gritted teeth. His entire body was shaking with a barely contained anger, and fuck, Colby had never felt like a bigger asshole. 

Okay. He felt worse after the kidnapping prank, but this situation was coming close. 

Colby swallowed around nothing, choking on the words that got stuck in his throat. “I can't tell you,” he croaked. “But it has nothing to do with you.”

“For fuck’s sake!” yelled Sam, throwing his arms up. Before Colby could grasp the situation fully, Sam was close enough to grab him by the front of his shirt, dragging him forward. “It clearly has at least something to do with me, if you're acting weird around me.”

They were close. Too fucking close, and Colby's poor heart had no idea how to handle this. A situation like this was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid for so long — being too close when it was just the two of them. His chest felt too tight, as he looked into Sam's eyes. And, oh, under all that anger and frustration, Colby could see the pain. 

“Don't you fucking trust me?” asked Sam, his voice cracking. His fingers gripped Colby's shirt tighter, as if scared Colby was going to bolt — which, yeah, valid. He wanted to get away from this situation and preferably pretend it never fucking happened. 

“You know I do,” said Colby, his voice strained. 

“Then talk to me,” huffed Sam, narrowing his eyes. People didn't understand how intense Sam was whenever he got angry — their fans liked to compare Sam to Sun, without acknowledging how deadly it could get. 

Colby sucked in a sharp breath, feeling his resolve crumbling. Just how weak he possibly was when it came to Sam? A fucking lot, or so it seemed. 

A beat of uncomfortable silence stretched, squeezing his lungs and heart, making it hard to breathe. It was hard to focus on anything, his mind running too fast. The only thing he was aware of were Sam’s blue eyes, glaring daggers at him.

“I like you,” croaked Colby. 

The statement didn't seem to convey the actual sentiment behind it. Because those words felt so small, so insignificant in comparison to what Colby was actually feeling. Because what he was feeling was burning him from the inside, consuming him, and reshaping him all at once. So, no, the words ‘I like you’ weren't good enough, but he couldn't get more words out, his throat too tight for that. 

Sam finally let go of Colby, taking one step back, as his eyes widened. “What?”

Oh, and this was exactly why he had never wanted to tell Sam. He knew where this was heading — Sam must've been disgusted. He just had to be. 

“I'm sorry,” croaked Colby, his shoulders slumping. His breathing was starting to pick up, slowly becoming more rapid. “I tried to do everything to stop it. I fucking… I tried and tried, but nothing worked.”

A sob wracked through his body, his vision turning blurry. Fuck, was he actually crying? So many jokes about Sam being the crybaby, and yet here he was. 

“Forgive me,” whispered Colby, gasping for air at that point. He pressed one hand against his chest, as if to physically stop the pain that was building up around his heart. “Please, forgive me. I tried everything. I beg—begged God to make this all stop. I begged each fucking night, please, Sam, you have to believe me. Please, forgive me.”

His words were frantic, leaving his mouth too quickly in between the gasps and sobs. It was hard to get air inside his lungs, he was starting to feel dizzy, but the urge to defend and explain himself was stronger. 

“Hey, hey,” murmured Sam, carefully reaching his hand out. “I'm not… You don't have to beg for forgiveness.”

Colby reached his hands out, clutching the fabric of Sam's shirt tightly. His shoulders curled inward, as if to make himself smaller. He could barely hear Sam's voice, as it got drowned out by the static in his brain. His body was feeling weak. 

“I did everything right. I did everything to stop,” continued Colby, his shoulders shaking. “I dated, and I had flings and I…” he trailed off, gasping for air. “But no one was you. None of those people were you. I'm sorry. Please, you have to believe me that I tried everything. I begged God to make it stop.”

Colby couldn't keep himself up, anymore. He fell to his knees, still weakly clutching at Sam's shirt. 

And wasn't this all so ironic? He begged God to make it all stop exactly like this over and over again, each night, and now he found himself kneeling before Sam, begging for forgiveness. Maybe Sam should've been the one Colby was supposed to go to in the first place. Maybe his true God had been Sam this whole time. 

“I tried, God knows I did,” continued Colby, his voice turning frantic. He was still gasping for air, as his chest continued to raise quickly. “Forgive me. Please, forgive me. I'll do anything. Anything, okay? But I can't lose you. I can't—I can't imagine being without you. I can’t. I just can't.”

“Okay, you need to cut it out,” whispered Sam, joining Colby on the floor. He wrapped his arms around Colby, pulling him closer against his chest. 

“I'm sorry,” sobbed Colby, unable to find any more words. Because what else was a person meant to say when their feelings were making everything crumble? When those shameful feelings could make him lose absolutely everything?

Sam rested his chin on top of Colby's head, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “I'm not angry. I swear to God. I'm not. But I need you to calm down, yeah? Just… fuck, you need to breathe, you're going to pass out.”

Colby had no idea how much time had passed, as he sat there on the cold floor of the hotel room, curled against Sam's chest. Everything around him was spinning, he felt lightheaded, and his chest was burning. And yet, Sam sat right there with him, whispering encouragement, until his breathing started to calm down. 

He cleared his throat, his face twisting into a grimace. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard — he wasn’t sure if this had happened before. The static in his brain turned into a throbbing pain deep inside his skull, his mouth felt like cotton, and his throat was completely raw. He had yet to understand why people claimed that crying helped them feel better; nothing about this was fucking better. To be fair, the only thing he felt was exhaustion. That type of exhaustion that seeped inside his bones, making them ache.

“You with me?” asked Sam, putting one hand at the back of Colby’s head. 

Colby only grunted in response, letting his body melt against Sam. Well, his best friend had yet to run away screaming, so he supposed it was a good sign. It still didn’t make him feel any less embarrassed, though. And this was why it was Sam’s role to be the crybaby. He wore his heart on his sleeve, after all. He was far more in touch with his emotions than Colby could even dream of. 

“Okay, since you’re not actively having a breakdown,” continued Sam lightly, making Colby snort in response, “let me do the talking now, okay? ‘Cause I don’t think you were actually hearing me, when I was talking.”

“Nope,” admitted Colby, because, hey, what else was he supposed to say? He wasn’t even aware of the fact that Sam was saying something. How did he miss that, anyway? He was usually so fucking captivated by anything that his best friend was saying.

Sam chuckled, burying his fingers in Colby’s hair, gently scratching his scalp with the dull nails. “So, first of all. I’m not angry that you like me. I could never be angry about that. But I am mad that you decided not to tell me. For a long time it seems,” he added wryly. 

Colby hummed in response. “Sorry.”

Sam groaned, heaving a deep sigh. “My second point, stop fucking apologizing. Please. I… do you understand how, I don’t know, scary it was to see you break like that? Begging for forgiveness? You don’t have to beg me for shit, dude,” he whispered. “And lastly—”

“Dude, are you writing an essay?” quipped Colby.

“Asshole,” said Sam, but sounded far too fond. “What I was trying to say is that I don’t want you to get rid of the feelings. I don’t want you to beg God to make it stop.”

His entire body froze, once he heard those words. He willed himself to move from the safety of his best friend’s chest, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. “You had me, and then you lost me, dude.”

Sam kissed his teeth, before licking his lips. And look at Colby, he was being so brave by not looking at Sam’s lips for too long — someone ought to give him a medal for that one. “You kinda assumed that I don’t feel the same, but when did I ever say that?” 

Colby blinked. And blinked. And then again for good measure, because there was no way this was actually happening. Because he knew that he wasn’t worthy of having his feeling reciprocated. Colby had never felt like he could possibly deserve someone like Sam — not when Sam was the definition of everything good in this world, at least in his eyes. 

For so long, he had been begging God to make these feelings disappear. He begged, looking at the stars and the moon each night, only for Him to make the feelings even stronger. It felt like a test, as if the Lord was trying to see how much Colby could take. The truth was, he had never felt strong enough for a test like this. He was, at the end of the day, just a weak man with a fragile heart that had been in Sam’s hands for so long. 

Colby never wanted it any other way.

“Say something,” mumbled Sam, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“I…” Colby trailed off, swallowing around nothing. He pressed his forehead against Sam’s shoulder, letting out a shaky chuckle. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“How long?” asked Sam, cradling the back of Colby’s head once more. 

Colby thought about the questions for a moment, pondering over the answer, and he was just glad Sam let him think it through it. “I think I was brave enough to admit it just about a year ago, but if I’m being honest, I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you.”

The admission hung in the air for a moment, before Sam let out a snort. “Wow, dude, you liked me back at the band camp? I was such an ugly kid.”

“Not to me,” murmured Colby, smiling, unable to help himself. “I thought you were, I don’t know, everything.”

“Everything?” echoed Sam. 

“Mhm, you were everything to me back then. And you’re everything to me now,” whispered Colby. “And you will be everything to me until the day I die.”

He could hear how Sam’s breath hitched in his throat, staying quiet for a moment, before speaking up, “You can’t say shit like that. I’ll cry.”

“Please do, actually,” mumbled Colby, putting his hands on Sam’s back. He had never realized just how nicely they fit together like this. “I can’t be the only one embarrassing myself by crying my eyes out and having a mental breakdown.” 

Sam laughed, his shoulders shaking. “Do you want to move to the bed?” he asked after a beat of silence. 

“I’d love that more than anything, but I don’t think I can feel my legs,” admitted Colby, but Sam was already moving, dragging him up by his arms. He let himself get maneuvered to the bed, before Sam collapsed right next to him. It didn’t even matter that they booked a room with two beds — they were far too used to sharing a bed at that point. 

“You know you’re an idiot for never saying anything, right?” asked Sam, raising one eyebrow. “Like, I don’t even want to imagine how much it’s been hurting you.” 

Colby groaned, dragging his hands across his face. “Dude, I never knew how to fucking start, okay? I couldn’t just go ‘hey, dude, by the way, I’m totally in love with you. Anyway, when are we doing the next video?’ Like, that’s not how confessions work, right?” 

“Oh, but having a mental breakdown on the floor, while talking about how you were praying the gay away, works so much better, right?” asked Sam, having the nerve to sound far too amused. 

Colby peeked at Sam from behind his hands, shooting him a weak glare. “I don’t like you very much.”

“You know,” said Sam, scooting closer, “I would’ve believed you, but you did just tell me that I’m everything to you, so. That’s not gonna work.”

Colby huffed, letting his hands drop from his face, before pressing his face into a pillow. Ah, because of course, Sam couldn’t possibly let him forget how smug he could get. His best friend was the biggest asshole at times. God, Colby loved him more than anything. 

“You’re everything to me, too, y’know?” murmured Sam, turning on his side, so they could face each other. “You’re everything I have. Fuck everyone else, as long as I have you. I’m pretty sure I can survive losing everyone in my life. But you? Nah. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself,” he said — clear and sure and honest — cupping Colby’s cheek. 

Colby leaned into the touch on his cheek with a quiet sigh, the rest of the tension finally draining out of him. “You could’ve said something, too,” he added after a moment. It wasn’t an accusation, no, just an observation, if anything. 

“I definitely should’ve,” sighed Sam, tracing Colby’s lower lip with his thumb. “Because seeing you that distressed was definitely the worst moment of my life. I had no idea what to do.”

“You did pretty good,” mumbled Colby, his lips curling up in a small smile. 

“Thanks, dude,” chuckled Sam. He groaned, scrunching his nose. “We’re both really fucking stupid, you know that, right? Like, we actually spent so much time, just… pining, but neither of us did anything. How stupid is that?” 

It was stupid, indeed. But, at the end of the day, they were just two stupid kids from Kansas and some things were far too hard to unlearn. The mentality of a red state ran much deeper than either of them had thought, despite living in California for so long. 

“But,” continued Sam, offering Colby a lopsided grin, “I’m forever grateful to be by your side. Even though, we’ve never talked about feelings, or whatever. I was happy to have you as a friend.”

“And if you’ll have me as more than a friend?” asked Colby, feeling almost shy. 

“Then I’ll be the happiest person on this fucking planet,” replied Sam, his smile stretching impossibly wide. He was already leaning, but stopped himself, suddenly matching Colby’s shy demeanor. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Please.”

When their lips pressed together, Colby was pretty sure that this was what Heaven actually was. Sam’s lips against his. Sam’s hand on his cheek. Sam’s body pressed against his. Just… Sam. This man was exactly how they described Heaven — he brought him so much peace and joy, while simultaneously taking away all the pain and sorrows he’d been harboring over the years. 

Colby had begged God to take away his feelings, but he’d forgotten that the Lord worked in mysterious ways, and truth to be told, he had never been happier about this fact. Because, finally, after so many painful years, he could have Sam in every way he had ever dreamed about. 

And for once, Colby wasn’t suffocating.