SAM/CHRIS FOR 8
things you said when you were crying
All things considered, it’s hardly a surprise that Sam can barely stand water anymore. She’s been ambushed in the bath, chased through a frigid lodge still dripping, and forced to wade through frigid murky water in the depths of monster-infested mines. So it’s pretty justified that Samantha Borowy, fervent lover of baths, swimming, and the rain suddenly finds her skin crawling at the notion of all things wet.
It doesn’t stop her from turning up on Chris’s doorstep, soaked from the rain, and shaking—though it isn’t from the downpour. And because it’s who he is, Chris doesn’t care that everything from her hair to her clothes is dripping with rainwater, and he doesn’t care that she could have called to let him know she was coming; he just takes one look at her and can tell she’s been crying, and pulls her into a hug. She doesn’t give him time to offer a hello or an are you okay or a Sam, you’re soaking, she just presses her face against his chest and blurts it out.
“I miss him so much. Fuck, Chris, I miss him so much.”
And because it’s who he is, Chris knows who she means, and he doesn’t ask questions, and he doesn’t shy away from the rainwater staining her clothes as he just pulls her closer and strokes her damp hair. “Hey, shh, I know. I miss him, too.” Sam’s fingers fist in the thick fabric of his sweater of she holds onto him, and if he asked her to explain what possessed her to go and drench herself making the trek to his house in this weather, she’s not sure she could really answer.
Chris pulls away slightly to shut the door behind her and pull her farther into the house, and she feels compelled to try and get out what brought her here anyways. “I found—my copy of that—s-stupid Darkwoods Motel movie in my room, and I realized I don’t think I’ll ever be able to watch it again or wear that ridiculous shirt again or—I just I don’t think I… C-Chris, I really don’t think I can—do this—or—be okay with him gone.”
Her voice is a quivery, jumpy mess and Chris pauses, reaching for her. He looks like he’s going to take her face into his hands, before he seems to second-guess that and drops his hands to her shoulders instead, a grounding gesture. His voice is slow at first, like he’s unsure of how to word his message, but still firm and reassuring. “Sam. You said it yourself, things will get better. You’re going to be okay, and you can do anything—because you’re the strongest person I know, okay? If I know one thing, I know that.”
She tries for a smile, but it’s miserable and barely there, and her breathing is uneven from the tears still mixing with rainwater on her face. She almost can’t hear her next words.
“I hate him being gone. Sometimes—sometimes I think I’d rather I died in those mines than make it back without him.”
She knows if she said this to anyone else, they’d shut her down immediately, they wouldn’t even hear her out or try to understand, they’d launch into a lecture on how she should be glad she survived and she should try to make the best of it. Chris, though—she thinks she sees his heart break from his expression, but she also sees recognition in his eyes. It’s why she came here. She knows he understands.
And when he pulls her against him for another tight hug, it’s not a lecture that slips past his mouth, just a single, quiet “Yeah.” Because he understands it, and he cares the way she does, and he loves Josh every bit as much as she ever did.
Because he’s Chris, and it’s who he is.