Mar 21, 2025
some self indulgent samfam sketches ft samstar for the soul.. uehehe. close ups beneath the cut as always .
they really mt everything …
seen from Belgium
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from South Korea
seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Yemen
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Singapore
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United Kingdom
some self indulgent samfam sketches ft samstar for the soul.. uehehe. close ups beneath the cut as always .
they really mt everything …
i sang my heart out (you didn't hear it)
omg hii.. i really wanted to explore sam's angry side. so, after some discussion with a few friends, we decided that - despite sam's happiness and bubbliness - he probably has some anger/frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
shoutout to my friend em (unfem on ao3, unfortunatelyem on tumblr) for bouncing around ideas with me. they actually wrote something about the wedding band (mentioned in this fic) and graciously allowed me to write my own little spin on that. all credits for that particular idea goes to them <3
oh yeah the song sam sings is "dad's song" by set it off. listening to that song, dissecting the lyrics.. it made me think of sam and kent's dynamic and i know sam would write a song dedicated to his father. anyway~ enjoy.
warnings: none? idk sam gets angry. he says something he regrets.
word count: 3737
chapters: chapter masterlist
summary: sam and his band are finally performing their most important (or at least most memorable) concert! each bandmate has written a special song or instrumental solo and they're eager to perform them! sam had chosen to write about his father and how kent has inspired him. however, kent isn't there to hear the song performed.
ao3 link: here
and tumblr version below the cut :3
Flashing lights, booming music, a crowd of people screaming the name “Goblin Destroyer” at the top of their lungs. In Sam’s mind, this night was perfect. Well.. Almost, anyway.
His eyes warily scanned the crowd - looking over all the familiar and unfamiliar faces in front of him. Several of his fellow townspeople had come all this way to see the festivities: to see Abigail, Sebastian, and himself. He saw Abigail’s parents, although they appeared uncomfortable by the loudness of the music and the crudeness of the lyrics. He saw Robin and Demetrius, Emily, and even Shane - much to Sam’s surprise. So many people who were eager to hear the band. Despite this, Sam had a looming sense that something was missing. That someone was missing.
As the current song began to die down, Sam’s eyes landed on a space near the front of the stage. He saw his mother, a proud smile plastered across her face. Her eyes crinkled around the edges and the corners of her mouth met in a deep wrinkle. He watched as she reached a caring hand out towards her youngest son, spinning him around in a circle as the music continued to blare.
The light from the setting sun glinted and reflected across the tarnished silver band on his mother’s left hand: her wedding band. A symbol of her marriage to his father, a symbol of love and devotion - both to each other and their family. The sight of it caused his main worry to seep back into the front of his mind: where was the person who had the counterpart to that ring? Where exactly was his father? Sam glanced around nervously, thinking back to an earlier interaction with his father. Kent told Sam he'd be there - no, he promised Sam he'd be there. Yet, there wasn't a trace of him in sight.
Sam gulped harshly, a small lump forming in the back of his throat. Maybe he's just getting snacks, Sam thought to himself, desperate for reassurance that his father would show up eventually. Sam had to believe Kent would be there. He had to hope - hope was all he had. It was all he’s ever had. Hope that Kent would appear, hope that his father would return, hope that everything would work out in the end. He held tightly to that small hope, letting it wrap around him like a comforting blanket.
Dad will show up, Sam mused to himself, He always does, after all. Momentarily comforted by that thought, Sam remembered why he was having this concert in the first place. He thought about the surprise he'd been working on for months. He had written a song about his father and he intended to perform it tonight, on Spring 6 - just two days after Kent’s birthday.
Sam had purposely scheduled this concert for that week. He had intended for the song to be a belated birthday present. After all, he put everything he had into writing it. He spent countless nights hunched over his desk, waiting for inspiration to strike, only to spend the next few hours writing and crumpling up page after page of subpar ideas. Sam wanted it to be perfect - and he wanted Kent to see just how perfect it was. He wanted Kent to see all the work he put into it. He wanted Kent to be proud of him. Tonight he would sing it in front of all these people. Everything had to go perfectly. Everything would go perfectly - Sam was sure of that. The only thing missing was the man himself.
Sam tried to calm his nerves by letting himself get lost in the music. However, that was a harder task than he had anticipated. As the minutes counted down, as song after song died out, Sam found himself less and less able to focus. He missed chords, he sang the wrong words, he was even sure his voice cracked at one point. Sam knew that everyone noticed, even if they continued to politely cheer and clap as another song ended.
C’mon, Sam, he thought to himself, get it together.
Abigail, who was eagerly awaiting her own drum solo, glanced at Sam worriedly.
“You okay, man?” She asked. Abigail frowned, Sam had always made mistakes - but none this noticeable. It was clear something was bothering him, but Abigail wasn’t exactly sure what it was.
“Huh?” Sam asked, looking up at Abigail with a distant, but confused expression.
“You seem..” Abby started, pursing her lips together as she tried to word it nicely, “Preoccupied… Is..is everything okay, Sam?”
“Uh,” Sam began. He gulped harshly. Was everything okay? He didn’t know. Even if it wasn’t, a small part of him knew this wasn’t the place to discuss it. Sam rubbed the back of his neck and continued with a sheepish chuckle, “Yeah. Everything’s fine.. I’m just a bit tired, I guess. You know how it is: pre-concert jitters making it hard to sleep..”
“If you say so,” Abby replied, her lips forming a thin line and her voice lined with faint skepticism. Sam was normally so full of energy. Hearing him claim he was “just tired” didn’t sit right with Abigail. However, it was clear that pressing Sam further wouldn’t do any good.
“You should take a break,” Abby offered, motioning to the small crate next to her. She continued, “Seb will come get you when it’s your turn to sing, okay?”
Sam gripped the neck of his guitar with clammy palms and took a seat with their equipment. He nodded in Abigail’s direction before mumbling a small “thanks”. He watched as Abigail walked towards her drumkit and took her seat. Once alone, Sam buried his face in his palms, groaning out in frustration. This day was so important to all of them, yet he couldn’t help but feel like it was slowly becoming a disaster. Even if Sebastian and Abigail ignored the mistakes or continued playing like normal for his sake, he knew it was his fault. He felt awful.
Get it together, Samson, he mentally scolded, reaching over and splashing a small amount of cold water on his face. Sam couldn’t let himself ruin this night for his friends. He would never forgive himself if he did. He had to push down this feeling. Yet.. it kept nagging at him. It circled around his mind, consuming his thoughts. Maybe Kent was here now? Maybe, while Sam was deep in thought, his father had silently entered the crowd - had taken his place and filled the empty spot next to his mother.
Against his better judgement, glanced out at the crowd once again. He hadn’t intended to, but it seems his eyes subconsciously scanned the crowd - looking for any indication of his father’s presence. He found none. Sam felt a small pang in his chest, but he tried to ignore it.
Sam tore his eyes away from the crowd. He shook his head and let out a small sigh. Nothing. Sam wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans, anxiety eating away at him as he watched Sebastian end his synth solo. He looked up, noting the shadow of his friend slowly approaching him. It was almost time for Sam to debut the song, yet still no sign of Kent. It worried him. Sam shook his head - removing the thought from his mind. He had more important things to focus on. Besides, Sam was certain Kent would show up. He had to show up.
“You're up, dude,” Sebastian spoke as he approached Sam. Sebastian looked at Sam, raising his eyebrow. It appeared that the man hadn't heard Sebastian's words or - if he did - he was ignoring them. He waved a hand in front of Sam’s face, his worry growing. He had never seen Sam so.. distracted. Sam couldn’t help himself from looking out at the crowd once more. Another small, hopeful glance, one that believed that Kent magically appeared in the few seconds he looked away.
“Sam?” He called out once again. Sebastian pursed his lips together in thought, wondering how to get his attention. He held up his hand before striking his thumb against his middle finger, snapping twice. Sam looked up at him - his expression dazed but no longer distant.
“Dude..? Earth to Samson..?” Sebastian asked, waving his hand once again when Sam remained silent. He watched as Sam anxiously chewed on his bottom lip, gazing longingly at the crowd of people. Sebastian pursed his lips together, unsure of what was on Sam’s mind. He spoke once more, “You okay?”
“Uh.. yeah,” Sam replied, shaking himself out of the momentary stupor. Sam went silent for a moment, as if debating internally with himself, and eventually sighed. He pushed himself into a standing position - causing the old wooden crate beneath him to creak and groan in protest. Sam started towards the center of the stage, though something stopped him before he reached the mic stand. He took another glance at the audience. A small, barely audible sigh slipping past his lips. Kent was nowhere to be found.
Of course, Sam thought to himself, why would he be? Sam knew his father had a distaste for open spaces (and large crowds). He knew it was asking a lot of him to be in a situation with both at once. Despite this, a small part of Sam had silently hoped that, just this once, Kent would be there.
“Hey, Seb?” Sam asked, turning back to his friend.
“Mhm?” Sebastian mumbled in reply. He wasn't looking at Sam - too busy fidgeting with his synth.
“You.. you didn't see my dad out there,” Sam began, his voice going quiet. He looked down at his shoes - slightly embarrassed that, despite knowing the answer, he still held onto a small sliver of hope. He continued, “Didya?”
Sebastian thought for a moment, pursing his lips together as he racked his brain. He had seen nearly two dozen faces in the audience, yet Kent’s was not one of them. He shook his head and replied with a curt, “No.”
Sam sighed and gripped the neck of his guitar tightly, the metal of the strings pressing against his calloused hand hard enough to bruise. He nodded in Sebastian’s direction before speaking, “Well, thanks anyway, man.”
Sam took one final, semi-hopeful look out at the crowd. He allowed his gaze to linger on the small family huddled together - his mother, Vincent, and… an empty space. Eventually, he reluctantly approached the center of the stage, where Abigail had carefully set up a chair and several microphones - just like how they practiced.
He took a deep breath and reached for his microphone, tapping it gently to ensure it was on. However, a loud ringing feedback greeted him. Sam grimaced. He hoped this wasn’t an indication of how his performance would go. Once the ringing subsided, Sam cleared his throat.
“Uh, hey, guys,” He started, nervously leaning into the microphone to ensure he was heard clearly. He continued, “I.. I have something special for you all. It’s a new song.”
“One that all you usual fans have never heard before,” Sam explained, though he was interrupted by a few whoops and cheers from the crowd. He gave a dry chuckle and continued, “Thanks, guys. ‘Preciate your enthusiasm, but… as I was saying..”
“Um,” Sam said, though he looked out at the crowd and felt his chest tighten. All of these fans, all these excited people, they all came to see him and his friends.. They came to hear this song. Yet, they were all the wrong people.
His voice wavered, but he resumed, “This.. this song goes out to a really special man. Someone who.. who really inspires me. Someone who taught me how to play guitar. Someone who.. helped me discover my love of music in the first place..”
“This song is for my dad, Kent Neilson,” Sam finally revealed, tightness building in the back of his throat. He cleared his throat and tried to push the bubbling emotions down. He spoke once more, “I hope you enjoy it, Dad.” Wherever you are, Sam thought to himself.
Sam pulled the chair closer and carefully slung his guitar over his shoulder. He was being as delicate as he possibly could - the poor guitar looked as if it would fall apart any moment. It was old, warped with age and smelled faintly musty from being in the back of Sam’s closet for Yoba knows how many years, but it was special, too.
This guitar had been a gift from his father. In fact, it had been the first guitar Sam ever owned. An image of himself, much younger (about eight years old) filled his mind. The small version of Sam curled up in his father’s lap, watching intently as Kent pointed to the chords and tried to guide Sam’s own, much too small hands over the strings.
Now, performing his third gig at twenty four years old, Sam held the guitar with the same enthusiasm. The same childlike wonder. The same joy as his fingertips brushed over the cool metal, resulting in a seemingly meaningless array of noises.
The only thing that was missing was his father.
Sam closed his eyes and began strumming along. He tried his best to push Kent’s absence from his mind, to let himself get lost in the music, but it seemed to be harder with each lyric. He kept going anyway, his emotions grinding against each other and beginning to rise to the surface. The song soon approached the bridge:
Tears can't run dry when I start to cry
When I hear people speak of how you'd be so proud of me
And how I hope this song will reach your ears
I battled all my darkest fears
I once was blind, but now it's clear
Wherever I go, I know that you'll be near
As the final words of the bridge left Sam’s mouth, his emotions gurgled in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him. He opened his eyes and glanced out at the crowd once more, still slightly hopeful that Kent appeared while he was singing and he just hadn’t noticed.
Sam looked around: foolishly hopeful. His hope was soon crushed as his eyes landed on the peachy-auburn mop of his mother’s braid, carefully and neatly done as always. His eyes trailed down her arm, following it to where it rested lovingly on the messy pink of Vincent’s hair. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he looked towards her other hand - the one that was always entwined in Kent’s own - and noticed it jarringly empty. He tightened his grip on the neck of the guitar, anger building in him.
He swallowed harshly, forcing himself to finish the chorus, ignoring how his emotions crashed against the walls of his composure. These people, while they weren’t the intended audience, had come to see a show. They had all come to see him. To see Sam. He just wished Kent had, too.
As the final chorus rang out, Sam’s emotions were fighting against his calm, composed demeanor.
Sam was kind. Sam was understanding.
Yet, in this moment, he felt like neither of those things.
Sam felt angry. Sam felt selfish. Sam felt like everything he tried to convince himself he was not. Perhaps worst of all, however, was that he felt stupid. Stupidly hopeful, stupidly optimistic, stupidly forgiving..
Before he realized it, Sam pushed himself into a standing position. His emotions had broken through - like a wave. They washed over him, filling his lungs with a fiery ache. How could I be so stupid? Sam thought to himself, using his free hand to claw at his chest - as if he could physically remove the ache that had been building all afternoon.
But it was too late. It had spread and spread - seeping into every crack and crevice Sam had so desperately hidden.
The next thing he knew, Sam hoisted the guitar over his shoulder. An intensity rang through him; an anger so deep, so personal, so hurt. He let out a groan of frustrated anguish and let go.
The crowd watched in horror as the guitar collided with the aluminum stage, causing the wood to begin cracking and splitting. Shards flew in every direction. Several worried and surprised murmurs arose from the crowd.
Sam watched as a small piece of the guitar collided with his scuffed converse. It had a smudged, faded inscription written in permanent marker. Reaching down, Sam picked up the chip and turned it over in his hands. It read “I will always be there to support you, Sam. I promise. Love, Dad.”
Sam’s hands began shaking in anger and he balled his fists at his sides, letting the wood dig into the skin of his palm. His breathing grew heavy and labored and he shook his head in disbelief. Promise, promise, promise. That word resounded in Sam’s mind - repeating itself over and over. All his father did was promise. He broke every single one, yet Sam still continued to trust him. Every. Single. Time.
His bandmates watched in horror, their eyes wide in surprise. The two glanced between Sam and the pile of jagged wood to his left. They took in his state: his wide, wild and fiery eyes, the disheveled state of his hair, the whiteness of his knuckles as he gripped the wood chip with such intensity. It all seemed so…different. Neither Abigail nor Sebastian had seen Sam act this way. To be honest, they weren’t even sure if this was their Sam. It scared them.
However, they wouldn’t let fear prevent them from comforting their friend. The two shakily approached Sam. Abigail was the first to speak.
“Sam, are you oka-” She started, though she was quickly interrupted by another frustrated noise from Sam.
“It’s not fair,” Sam protested, his brows furrowing together.
“What’s not fair, man?” Sebastian asked. Looking taken aback by Sam’s sudden outburst. He had never complained - especially about something being unfair.
“Everything,” Sam replied, another wave of anger building in him. He continued, “You guys.. Your families all came to see you - Abby’s mom, her dad, your mom, too - Seb, even Demetrius. Yoba, even Shane is here. Everyone is here but him.”
“Who-?”
“I organized this whole thing for him,” Sam spoke, his voice rising. He turned to face his friends, his face red and contorted in anger. He yelled, “And he’s not even fucking here!” As the words left his mouth, Sam tightly gripped the wood chip before throwing it as hard as he could. It landed near the edge of the stage with a distant thunk.
“Sam, please..” Abigail pleaded, looking just as shocked as Sebastian by Sam’s outburst.
“No, Abs,” Sam replied, clenching his fists even tighter. “Don’t you understand? He was supposed to be here. He promised he would be here. And.. he’s not. Like always.”
“I’m sure he had a good reason, Sam,” Sebastian offered, looking tentatively out at the crowd. He locked eyes with a worried Jodi and gave her a small nod - trying to signal that they had it under control.
“Don’t you understand how tired I am of hearing that? Don’t you think I’ve tried so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt, don’t you think I hoped that, just once, I wouldn’t get my hopes up - only to have them crushed,” Sam rambled, his emotions continuing to rise as each word slipped past his lips.
It felt as if he had been holding in this anger for years - always swallowing it, shoving it deep inside him and locking it away - all because he was supposed to be understanding. He was supposed to be kind. He was supposed to be Sam Neilson - the perfect son. He wasn’t supposed to be angry, to be selfish, to want things, to need things. And yet, here he was: raw and achy, his emotions clearly on display. It scared him, too.
“Look, Sam, I know-”
“You know? You know?” Sam interrupted, shaking his head in further disbelief. He scoffed, “You don’t know anything. You don’t know what it’s like to be in my place, Sebastian.”
Sebastian narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, “What is that supposed to mean, Sam?”
“Forget it.”
“No,” Sebastian protested, pursing his lips together. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Sam expectantly, “What. Does. That. Mean.”
“I said forget it, man,” Sam warned, his jaw clenching.
“Tell me,” Sebastian demanded.
Sebastian’s persistence did nothing to ease Sam’s anger. In fact, it frustrated him to no end. If he wasn’t careful, he might say something he would later regret.
“You don’t know what it’s like to be in my place because..” Sam started, an exasperated breath leaving his lips, “Because..”
“Because..?”
“Because unlike you, my dad was actually there,” Sam blurted out.
“Excuse me?” Sebastian retorted, his expression of concern changing into one of anger in an instant.
Shit.
Sam watched in horror as Sebastian’s own face contorted in anger. He immediately wished he could take it all back - to rewind time ten seconds ago, to make sure he never said anything. But it was too late. It was always too late.
And with that, Sam turned and dashed away. He didn’t even look behind him, he didn’t look at his friend’s faces, he didn’t think he could bear it.
Sam couldn’t see Sebastian reaching down and picking up the small wood Sam had discarded earlier. He didn’t see Abigail peering over Sebastian’s shoulder, or hear her reading the words aloud. He didn’t see his friends turn to the crowd and notice Jodi still huddling with Vincent. He couldn’t see the pain across his mother’s face, the hurt that replaced the joy she felt when she recognized the guitar as Sam smashed it.
He couldn’t see the horror that coated everyone’s faces. He couldn’t see the smartphones that had recorded the entire thing. He couldn’t see the disappointment and shock. He could only see what was in front of him: his own gangly legs, his fraying converse, his hand-me-down jacket that had belonged to his father at one point, and the open space behind the concert venue.
He was shaking, both with anger and overexertion. Sam had no idea where he was going, but he kept running. Sam ran until his legs gave out - he ran until he couldn’t force himself to run any longer.
ISMHO CHAPTER 4: I CAN'T HELP BUT WONDER
i know what you're thinking and yes the title is from epic the musical. kent &sam are so ody and telemachus to me. anyway, this one was nice to write. i love samfam so so much. the entire family is so so so important to me.
ALSOOO there are some easter eggs to my other works - forever stuck in our youth and when the sun burns too bright so you can read those too, if you'd like.
BIG thanks to my friend moona (spacesapphi on tumblr and sapphiresstars on ao3) for helping with some ideas found in this chapter :3 he is also a writer and they're currently writing an AMAZING shane centric fic called "moving forward, spiraling downward" i highly recommend. ALSO thank you to my friend sock (siredgarre) for some of their headcanons about vincent :D
summary:
jodi shows kent the concert, and sam and kent finally talk things out!!
word count: 3726
other chapters: chapter masterlist
ao3 link: here
warnings: mentions of past death, parental absence
as always, full chapter below the cut :3
Distant, muffled voices talked quietly, although one of the voices appeared quite exasperated.
“How’d the show go?” A masculine, gruff voice asked. It was followed by momentary silence and then a sigh.
“Kent..” the other voice started, the exhaustion clearly evident in her voice. Jodi pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes tightly as she wondered how to tell her husband about the day’s events. She continued, “It was.. Certainly something.”
“Oh?” Kent asked, raising his eyebrow at Jodi’s choice of words. He eyed his wife warily - searching for the cause of her distress. He knew Jodi preferred softer, piano-esque music and that Sam’s band could be quite noisy, but Jodi always spoke highly of their son - especially his performances.
“What’s wrong, Jo? Did.. did something happen?” Kent asked, extending his hand out and carefully holding Jodi’s wrist.
Jodi sighed once more and gave Kent’s hand a small squeeze. She looked towards Sam’s bedroom door, her eyebrows furrowing together in worry. She spoke, “Well.. it’s just.. You know how important this was to him, right, honey?’
Kent knew. Of course he did. Sam was always excited about his shows, Kent knew this, too.. But this one felt different - in a way. The previous weeks, Sam had been especially secretive about his plans and would constantly ask Kent if he was sure he’d be at the show. And, despite constant reassurance and Kent telling Sam that yes, he would be there, he… wasn’t. He could only imagine how upset Sam had been.
Kent nodded, though he braced himself. He could feel that there was an upcoming “but” in Jodi’s words.
“I know how large crowds make you uncomfortable, so I decided to record it for you,” Jodi explained, fishing around in her small purse and pulling out her digital camera (one that had actually belonged to Kent’s mother and was given as a gift near the time Sam was born - “To capture memories,” Misty had insisted. Jodi kept it ever since).
“The show was amazing. Oh, they all sounded great!” Jodi exclaimed enthusiastically, recalling the better part of the concert, “Sam even had a special surprise, just for you, dear,”
As she was retelling her story, Jodi frowned slightly before continuing, “And then.. Sam.. um… He.. Well, I think it’s better for you to see for yourself.” She pursed her lips into a thin line, extending her palm - which contained the small camera - towards her husband.
Kent raised an eyebrow, skeptical, though he took the camera from Jodi’s hands. He took a deep breath - hesitating to prepare himself for whatever he’d see - and pressed the play button.
The video started off as normal - showing the Goblin Destroyers intro followed by the band members performing several joint songs before moving onto individual pieces.However, Kent noticed Sam seemed… off throughout the entire first half of the show. Nervous, almost. He played wrong notes and - for a reason Kent couldn’t quite determine - kept looking at the audience, almost expectantly. Eventually, it was time for Sam’s song. Kent watched, listening intently as Sam began a small speech before the song.
His voice sprang out, sounding boxy from the old speakers, “This song is for my dad, Kent Neilson. I hope you enjoy it, Dad.” Kent listened to the following song with a curious interest, one that was almost matched with his own guilt.
So.. this is why he wanted me there, Kent thought to himself, his chest tightening as a pang of guilt resounded through it, And I let him down.
He continued to listen to the song, nodding his head along to the soft strum of the guitar. Something about the guitar felt.. Familiar almost. Kent couldn’t place it for the longest time. He found himself staring at it as Sam finished the last line of the song, and, just as Kent recognized it, the unthinkable happened.
Kent watched the video and his eyes widened in horror as Sam hoisted the guitar over his head before letting it crash against the metal of the stage. The image of the video then went skewed - as if whoever was recording had dropped it in surprise. What followed next was distorted audio, although Kent could decipher people arguing. Eventually, the video resumed and Sam was nowhere to be found.
All Kent could see - the audio was still quite distorted at this time - was Sebastian and Abigail approaching Jodi, worried expressions on their faces. He brought the device closer and tried to decipher what was being talked about.
The only thing he managed to hear was the end of Abigail’s last sentence, it appeared she had handed something to Jodi and, while looking sadly, said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Neilson.. About Mr. Neilson’s guitar.. This was all that we could salvage..” There is a brief pause, followed by a small sniffle from Jodi. As the item passed to her hand, it was in the camera’s view long enough for Kent to read it. The video then cuts off.
Kent stares as the video fades into a black screen. He closes his eyes, burying his face into his palms with a long, drawn out sigh.
Jodi approaches her husband and places a caring hand on his shoulder. She rubs small, comforting circles as she tries to console him, “I’m sorry, honey.. I know how much you cared about that guitar..”
“It’s just a guitar. There are thousands like it..,” Kent dismissed with a small shrug. He leaned into Jodi’s caring touch before opening his eyes. He glanced toward the tightly shut door to the left of the living room. He continued, furrowing his brows together, “I’m more worried about Sam, to be honest.”
Kent sighed, rubbing his forehead. He turned to his wife and added, “It’s not like him.. I.. I can’t help but feel like I’m partially responsible.”
“Sweetheart,” Jodi started, a small frown forming on her own lips, “Don’t blame yourself.”
“No, listen to me, Jodi,” Kent retorted, shaking his head. He carefully explained, “You and I both know how he was counting on me to be there.. And I let him down.”
“I’m sure he understands, Kent..”
“Sure he does. He’s the most understanding person I know,” Kent replied with a proud nod. He continued, “But that doesn’t make it fair to Sam. He did something special for me - put this whole thing together - and I couldn’t even show up. That isn’t something a father should do, Jo.”
Kent continued his speech, allowing his thoughts to run freely, “I mean.. Do you know everything that I’ve missed over the years? Countless birthdays, anniversaries, and far too many of Sam’s concerts.”
“Sam is 24, Jodi. Twenty-four. He’s basically a man now and I.. I missed all of it. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, Jo - and I will always regret that -, but I know it’s been especially hard for Sam,” The words spilled from Kent’s mouth and he buried his face deep into his palms. He added, “I wish I could’ve been there for him.”
“But.. I wasn’t. And.. I don’t know how to make it up to him,” Kent admitted sadly. A small sniffle left Kent’s nose and his breath hitched as he said the next words, “I don’t even know if I can anymore.”
“That may be true,” Jodi started, reaching her hand over and gently placing it on Kent’s own. She gave it a careful squeeze, waiting for him to look at her. She continued, “But, you know what you can do?”
“What?” Kent asked, looking at his wife, confused.
“Talk to him.”
Kent nodded. He pushed himself into a standing position. Before moving any further, he leaned down, carefully squeezing Jodi tightly, and placed a big, affectionate kiss onto Jodi’s cheek. He beamed at his wife and exclaimed proudly, “Jodi Neilson, you are the smartest woman in the world.”
Jodi blushed sheepishly, leaning into Kent’s kiss. Then, she laughed and gently pushed Kent away, “Okay, okay. I love you, too, Kent.” She shook her head at her husband’s antics, before motioning him onward, “Now go talk to our son.”
Kent walked towards Sam’s door. He took a deep breath before knocking two knuckles against the door. As he did this, Kent spoke, “Sam? Can I come in? It.. it’s Dad.”
Silence.
Kent sighed, resting his forehead against the door. He tried once again, “Sam?” Once again, there was no response. Kent pursed his lips together.
“Your mother.. She showed me your performance,” Kent explained, hoping his words reached Sam through the small gap between the door and its frame. He continued, “You sounded really good.”
“Ah.. I remember when you were younger. You were always crawling into my lap - barely able to hold the guitar - begging me to teach you how to play,” He recounted, a small smile spreading across his lips. Then, the smile soon faded as he remembered that the very guitar he was imagining so fondly was now a pile of splinters in some Zuzu City dumpster.
Kent paused for a moment before adding, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
When he was greeted with more silence, Kent gave an understanding nod and sighed. He turned to walk away - as it was clear Sam didn’t want to talk. However, just as he was about to give up, the door opened with a soft click.
Behind it stood a remorseful looking Sam, his arms crossed over his chest. He did not meet Kent’s gaze. Kent reached out and attempted to place a caring hand on his son’s shoulder.
Sam stopped him, shaking his head and pushing his hand away. He looked at Kent sadly and stated matter-of-factly, “You promised you’d be there.”
“Sam..I..”
“But you weren’t,” Sam interrupted, his anger slowly returning. He clenched his fist - shaking as a wave of emotion washed over him. He continued, “Why? Why weren’t you there..? You promised me you’d be there, Dad. Promised.”
“You always do this. You promise things and then you break those promises. You’re never there when I need you.” Sam was rambling now, as if every grievance he had been holding from the past years was finally bubbling to the surface. He felt angry, but a small part of him felt relieved, too. It’s like Star has said: Sam should let Kent know how much his actions hurt him.
“Did you know Vincent will look for me before he looks for you? Do you know what its like - having to raise your younger brother, having to take care of your mother because you’re terrified of your father dying. But.. you can’t tell anyone how you feel because you aren’t supposed to feel? You’re supposed to be understanding and..supposed to put everyone else before yourself.”
“Do you know what it’s like to be in my place? I had to step into your shoes at the age of sixteen. I was a child, I should’ve… I don’t know. Hung out with my friends. Instead.. I spent every single day worrying about your safety - but I had to be strong for Mom, for Vincent. I had to be strong for everyone else and.. I needed you to be strong for me, Dad.”
“But.. you weren’t there. And, yeah, I get it. Don’t get me wrong - I admire you and I think your job is super important, but… aren’t we important, too?”
“Sam,” Kent interrupted, pulling his son into a tight hug. Sam was shaking now - fighting back tears. He did not hug Kent back. Instead, he allowed himself to be held - Kent’s grip never faltering.
“I’m so sorry,” Kent apologized, moving his hand to gently cradle the back of Sam’s head - similar to how one would hold a baby. He sniffled, feeling Sam turn even more rigid at the touch. Kent continued, “For everything.”
“I wanted to go, trust me,” Kent attempted to explain. He looked at his son’s hurt expression and silently scolded himself. Why hadn’t he noticed something was bothering Sam sooner? Why did something drastic have to happen before it was addressed? He sighed, looking down at the floor, and continued, “But.. the more I thought about it.. The more I realized.. I didn't think I could handle it.”
“I know you really wanted me there, Sam, and I truly am sorry.”
Sam did not respond, at least not right away. He stood there - silent and still, completely unlike his usual bubbly and bouncy self.
Kent noted Sam’s uncharacteristic behavior and sighed. “I wish I could've been there for you. For all of you.”
“And.. I want you to know that you are important,” He spoke, though a part of him felt guilty that Sam ever questioned that fact. He continued, love and adoration filling his voice, “You, your mother, and your younger brother? You three are the most important things in my life, Sam.”
Sam looked up at Kent sadly, though he gave a halfhearted scoff. He pursed his lips together, mumbling, “It doesn't seem like it.”
“Sometimes.. It feels like.. all you do is work. You're here for a few seconds and then you're gone again. Do you know how it affects us? Or.. are you just trying to run away from it all?”
Kent shook his head. “Sam,” he pleaded, “There is a reason, I promise.” He paused, exhaling a small sigh and debating whether he wanted to tell Sam or not.
Kent pursed his lips together before pulling away from the hug, looking Sam in the eye.
“When I was around your age - maybe a few years younger,” Kent began, his expression darkening as he recounted the events. He took a deep, shaky breath before adding, “I lost my own father. Then, a few months later, I lost two of my best friends within the same week.”
“I was crushed. And.. all I could think about was how unfair the world was. It felt like I was looking after everyone - including my mother and yours - but.. no one was looking out for me.”
“I couldn't figure out what the hell I’d done to deserve it, you know?” Kent admitted, looking down st the ring of dogtags that laid neatly around Sam’s neck. He knew the names well. He had given them to Sam, after all, for safekeeping. Sam, while he didn't know the names personally, wore the dog tags with pride - it was a small, metal chain with three thin plates; tags belonging to Kent himself, and his two friends: Daniel Sawyer and Vincent “Lee” Leegland.
Kent closed his eyes harshly, trying to avoid the rush of spotty memories that threatened to come back. He hadn't remembered much - it was nearly 25 years ago and Kent’s mind had begun blocking out memories of the war - but through accounts from people who knew them (such as Jodi and Willy), Kent knew enough to remember how important the two men were. He continued speaking, “But.. I knew I had to try. So, initially.. I went back for that very reason - to find a purpose; some intangible reason for the world’s cruelty,.”
Kent made a small “hmph” sound, his lips curving downward in a small frown. He spoke once more, “You were about six when I went back into service.. And it was the hardest thing I had ever done - leaving you and your mother alone, that is.”
“So.. why did you?” Sam asked, looking up at his father expectantly.
“Because they needed me,” Kent replied matter-of-factly, though he sounded slightly sad - as if remembering an argument he had with Jodi over this very same thing nearly 18 years ago.
“Eventually, I began moving up the ranks. Because I was working harder than anyone else in my squad, they soon promoted me to Colonel - commander of the naval forces, too.. But, as nice as the recognition was.. that was no longer the reason I kept going back - not entirely, anyway.”
“Do you know what that reason was, Sam?”
Sam raised an eyebrow - curious.
“It was you,” Kent admitted.
“What do you mean?” Sam asked, scrunching up his face in confusion.
“Well, I wanted to make sure you were safe, son,” Kent explained, resting his hand protectively on Sam’s shoulder. He continued, “My father did the same thing when I was younger - I didn’t understand it then, just as you do now, but… when you were born - something changed. I had something I needed to take care of, something I could lose..”
“I hadn’t intended to go back as many times as I did.. But.. when the conditions worsened and there were rumors of an upcoming draft.. I knew I couldn’t let them get you,” Kent admitted. His usually stoic and unreadable expression turned slightly solemn.
He continued, “I wasn’t given a choice, Sam. But…this was a way of ensuring you were. I couldn’t let them do that to you. Not after everything I witnessed out there..”
“So.. you went back to keep me from being drafted?” Sam repeated, his brows furrowing together - deep in thought. All this time, he had assumed Kent went back because he wanted to - not because he was trying to protect Sam.
“Yes,” Kent replied with a small nod, “Because that is what you do for the people you love.”
Sam sat there in stunned silence for a moment. He couldn’t believe everything he had just heard. It completely changed Sam’s perception of his father. However, it also made him feel extremely guilty. He sighed, glancing down at his shoes uncomfortably.
“I’m sorry about your guitar, Dad,” Sam mumbled. He didn’t meet Kent’s eyes. “I’ll work doubles at the Joja Mart - buy you a new one. It won’t be the same, though..”
Kent chuckled - a hearty, deep sound that jarred Sam. His father had always been quite stoic and rarely laughed - faintly smiling was the most Sam had ever seen from the man. He gently patted Sam’s shoulder before shaking his head.
“Don’t worry about it, son,” Kent assured him. He spoke once more, repeating the sentiment he had told Jodi earlier, “At the end of the day.. It’s just a guitar.”
“What about the memories?” Sam asked, his lips forming a faint frown. He knew how much Kent had loved that guitar - how proud Kent was to pass it onto Sam when he was old enough, how Kent had always encouraged Sam to follow his passion for music. He sniffled slightly, realizing he had destroyed all of it. He mumbled, “Aren’t you going to miss them? Aren’t you angry that they’re gone?”
“I.. I know how hard it is for you to remember things - since… y’know.. the war and all..”
“I’m not angry, I promise,” Kent looked at his son, waiting for Sam to meet his gaze. “I’m more worried about you, Sam.”
“I just wish we had talked sooner,” Kent sighed, resting his forehead against the tips of two of his fingers - rubbing small circles against his temple. He spoke once again, “It was unfair of me to expect this much of you. You should’ve been able to enjoy your teenage years, not have to fill in my shoes. I didn’t realize how much this was affecting you. I.. I thought I was protecting you from all this pain - not that I was unintentionally causing more.”
“I know I haven’t been the best father to you, Sam, and I will always regret that,” Kent continued, a wave of guilt covering his features. A small part of him would always be worried that his family would resent him - especially Sam. He pursed his lips together before adding, “I wish I could’ve been there for you more. I’m really sorry, son.”
“Actually,” Sam began, looking up at his father with a small smile, “You’ve been a pretty great dad. I know you were trying - even if I couldn’t see it. So.. I’m sorry, too.”
Kent returned his son’s smile. Sam hesitated before pulling Kent into a tight hug. He buried his head into the man’s neck, closing his eyes tightly as he squeezed Kent - as if he would vanish if Sam were to let go. He took a deep breath before speaking once more, “I love you, Dad.”
Kent was surprised by the sudden hug - the force nearly knocking him backwards. He waited a few seconds and Sam felt his heart drop when Kent hadn’t hugged him back yet. Then, Kent wrapped his own arms around his son - gently cradling his head once again. Tears stung at the edges of Kent’s eyes and he sniffled before replying, “I love you too, Sam.”
“You really aren’t mad,” Sam started, finally breaking the hug and looking at his father once more. He continued, “About the guitar, I mean..”
Kent sighed, but he shook his head, “No, I’m not mad. I’ll miss the memories, sure.. But we can always make more.”
“And, besides,” He started, turning to face the living room. He pointed to the small wooden chip resting neatly on the coffee table, “At least one part survived, right?”
Sam stared at the chip for a moment - amazed that someone had picked it up. He let out a small “huh” of surprise and slowly approached it. He gently scooped up the wood before running his thumb over the faded lettering and the jagged grooves of the wood. As he looked at the wood, an idea popped into his head.
“Hey, Dad?” Sam called out over his shoulder. He then turned towards Kent and added, “I have an idea.. But I’ll need your help.” Kent raised an eyebrow, but he nodded and followed Sam.
The two spent the rest of the afternoon building a small, wooden jewelry box - ensuring they had left a space big enough for the wood chip to fit snugly inside of. Afterwards, Sam found his younger brother and helped him write a small message on a different piece of wood, writing his own to accompany it. When they had finished, the three boys carefully placed the box on Jodi’s bedside table, as a surprise for her. What Kent didn’t know, however, was that Sam had included a surprise for him as well - another note, similar to the one Kent had left many years ago. It was a similarly shaped piece of wood, nestled delicately inside the box. It read: “Thank you for always supporting me. I couldn’t have done it without you, Dad. Love, Sam.”
I SANG MY HEART OUT (YOU DIDN'T HEAR IT) chapter master list
ba ba ba. guess who's writing for sam again!~~ and this time there might be some oc content :)
anywho, i sang my heart out (or ismho) is intended to explore sam's angrier side. my friends em, sock, and i bounced around several ideas regarding sam & his anger and eventually it spurred this !
not sure how many chapters it'll be, and even though there are some oc x canon moments, i want the main focus to be familial and platonic relationships.
this work will focus on sam and kent (two of my favorite characters) and how, despite being a kind and understanding son, sam is more hurt by kent's continued absence / enlistment in the military than he lets on. eventually, he and kent will have a talk and both sides will be explained.
this is sorta.. a continuation of when the sun burns too bright, however it's not sambastian (nothing against that, i just wanted to focus more on the platonic/familial themes. i wasn't even going to include star originally, however the basis of their relationship IS the fact that they are best friends)
ANYWAY ENOUGH RAMBLING. HERES THE CHAPTERS.
chapter 1 - here (<- link)
chapter 2 - here (<- link)
chapter 3 - here (<- link)
chapter 4 - here (<- link)
chapter 5 - here (<- link)
chapter 6 - here (<- link)
chapter 7 -
chapter 8 -
chapter 9 -
chapter 10 -
ISMHO CH 6: WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?
first things first, hi. its been a bit.
anyway, this one was really special to me. writing this allowed me to explore more of star's neurodivergence - particularly something called "rejection sensitive dysphoria" or rsd for short - and i hope it gives you some more insight into him and the sides of neurodivergence that people tend to ignore. being nd is VERY important to both myself & star's character.
i also wanted to touch more on the relationships between the characters and their families & friends, so there are some jojabros are staralex moments in here <3
this one is sort of a.. split screen? chapter. basically there are multiple things happening at once - star's perspective and sam's perspective, separated by the "…" but i think it helps set the scene and how things will move forward.
speaking of moving forward, there is a little easter egg included in here! i mention a character (möhle) and an event that takes place in an awesome writing piece by my pal moona - called "moving forward, spiraling downward" and you can find it on his ao3 (saphiresstars) or their tumblr (spacesapphi). möhle is his character and i take no credit for their story!
summary: several days have passed since the concert and two things remain true: sam has still not talked to sebastian, and he can't stop thinking about a certain freckled blond.
join sam as he gets advice from both his parents (and later his coworker) on how he should handle his budding emotions.
however, things don't look so cheery for our beloved star.
star deals with some inner turmoil and turns to his best friend, alex, for support.
word count: 4589
warnings: no warnings i can think of, except (minor) emetophobia (just the word, no description of the action!)
ao3 link: here
other chapters: chapter masterlist
Four days had passed since the concert - and three since the kiss, though Sam was doing his best not to think too deeply about that part. But, In truth, it wasn’t working. The kiss had been the only thing Sam found himself thinking about. It didn’t help that the two people he found himself wanting to tell - his best friends, Abigail and Sebastian - were.. Well, justifiably angry at Sam.
To make matters worse, Sam found himself unable to reply to any message Star had sent. It’s not that he was trying to ignore him - or that he wanted to, either - but everytime he tried to bring up the day’s events, Sam’s mind became jumbled. This led to him sitting there, typing, deleting, and retyping different versions of the same message - only to be too nervous to actually send it.
Which left him… where exactly? He had yet to apologize properly to Sebastian (although not from lack of trying.) Sam had tried several times over the last few days, but Sam, glaring hopelessly at Sebastian’s messages once again, noticed the small text beneath it still read “delivered”, indicating Sebastian had not read it. He hadn’t talked to Star about what happened after the picnic, either.
And, to top it off, it was now a Wednesday. Which meant Sam had to visit his least favorite place in the world, a soul-crushing, fluorescently lit, minimum wage-paying job: The Jojamart. Or.. that’s how his coworker - Shane - described it, anyway. Sam found that he didn’t mind it that much. After all, he was hardly bothered by customers (though this could be attributed to the fact that he usually put on his headphones and tuned out the world around him) and found his job relatively manageable, even if it was monotonous and made Sam bored out of his mind.
He let out a small sigh and pushed himself into a standing position. He approached his closet and grabbed the uniform. Somehow it had gotten crumbled since he had worn it last, but he didn’t have time to worry about that. He quickly threw it on and tried to smooth out some of the more noticeable wrinkles.
Once he looked decent enough, he ducked into the living room. To Sam’s surprise, however, the usually silent sitting area was abuzz with activity; his mother off in the kitchen, making something for lunch, and his father and younger brother watching something on the couch. It was a cartoon of some sort, Sam concluded. Not that it particularly interested him, anyway.
Jodi popped her head up at the sound of Sam’s footsteps. She called his name over her shoulder, though she continued whatever she was doing.
“Oh, Sam!” She piped up, her voice cheerful as ever, “Star stopped by earlier. He brought some beautiful flowers as a ‘thank-you’ for the strawberries.. But I think he was looking for you, too.”
Sam nodded, though a small wave of guilt crashed over him - drawing his attention to the collection of messages he had yet to respond to. That feeling only grew with his mother’s next words.
“You never told me how your picnic went, dear.”
Sam pursed his lips together. Leave it to his mother to ask the one question he didn’t know how to answer. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “Uh.. good. It was good.”
Jodi made a small “hmm” sound, waiting to see if Sam would say anything else.
Sam continued, “Star and I.. We cloud gazed for a bit.” Jodi turned to face Sam, a reminiscent smile across her features.
“Your father and I used to go stargazing,” Jodi recalled, her expression full of fondness. She continued, and Sam noticed her expression seemed slightly sad as she said, “Before we got married, that is.”
Sam nodded. He didn’t know much about his parent’s lives before he was born, only that they had gotten married quite quickly because of his father’s service. He also noticed how his mother would look upset, engrossed in her own thoughts (and memories of her youth) - mostly when she thought no one was looking.
“Hey, Mom..” Sam started, anxiously fidgeting with the sleeves of his work uniform. He continued, “Can I ask you something?”
Jodi looked a bit confused, though she nodded. “What is it, Sam?”
Sam frowned a bit, though he gulped harshly. This question had been floating around his mind for a while, but he chose not to mention it. Not until now, anyway. He exhaled a small breath and asked, “Do you regret it? Marrying Dad, I mean.. Starting a family.”
Jodi smiled sadly, though she turned to face Sam and placed a gentle hand on his arm. She shook her head, “No.”
“Marrying your father, having you and your brother..” Jodi started, glancing at her small family with affection. She continued, “It was the best decision I ever made, Sam. I will never regret that.”
“But.. That doesn’t mean it was always easy,” Jodi explained, the sadness filling her face once again. She took a small breath before looking at Kent. She spoke once more, “We were young, and I will always wish we had gotten more time to be young, but I don’t regret marrying him.”
“Your father.. He is my best friend, honey,” Jodi spoke. She looked at her husband - her eyes filling with love and adoration. She added, “I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend my life with.”
Sam nodded once again. Best friend, huh? Sam thought to himself. He pursed his lips together and another question bubbled in his brain.
“Dad, you’re the one who confessed first, right?” Sam asked, turning to his father.
“That’s right,” Kent replied, nodding. He laughed - remembering the day nearly 25 years ago. It was around this time, too. Kent continued, “I told her I was in love with her. She thought I was crazy.”
“How… how did you know you were in love with Mom?” Sam asked curiously.
“Well.. Let’s see..” Kent started. He rested his hand against his chin, deep in thought. He went silent for a moment - really debating how to respond. Eventually, Kent spoke once more, “She was my best friend..” He quickly corrected himself - adding “and she still is” after Jodi sent a playful scowl in his direction.
“But.. I guess I truly realized it when spending time with her felt different,” Kent said. He explained further, “I found myself wanting to spend more and more time with her - I wanted to make her laugh, or see her smile… hear the way she said my name. If I could make her laugh, or smile.. It was as if nothing else mattered.”
“I realized that… with your mother by my side, the rest of the world didn’t seem that bad,” Kent recalled, another fond smile forming on his lips. He stood up and approached his wife. He looked at Jodi - his eyes mirroring the love and affection in Jodi’s own.
Kent spoke once more, “She was always so kind and funny and caring. It was impossible not to love her.” He carefully took Jodi’s hand in his own, bringing it to his lips and pressing a small kiss on the hand-me-down wedding ring he had given her all those years ago.
“She could’ve had anyone she wanted… and, yet, she chose to marry me.”
“I still don’t know why she chose me,” Kent admitted. He squeezed Jodi’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He continued, “But I’m glad she did. I don’t think I would be the man I am today without her.”
Sam listened intently. His parents’ words seemed to resound in his mind. They swirled around - mixing and muddling with his confusing web of emotions. Was that what Sam had felt whenever he thought about Star? He wasn’t sure.
Sam was pulled from his thoughts by his younger brother’s voice.
“Sammy?” Vincent asked, tugging on the sleeve of Sam’s shirt. Vincent tilted his head in confusion. He had been listening to their parents, too.
“What’s up, buddy?” Sam replied. He looked at his brother, crouching down and waiting for Vincent to speak once more.
“Do y’think you’ll fall in love someday?” Vincent asked, a curious expression forming on his face. He extended a small finger towards his parents before adding, “Like Mama and Dad?”
“Uh..” Sam hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He replayed his father’s words in his mind; ‘I found myself wanting to spend more and more time with her - I wanted to make her laugh, or see her smile’.
He thought back to the picnic; how his chest felt tighter whenever Star smiled or laughed at one of his jokes, how Star had once laughed so hard he snorted and leaned against Sam’s shoulder, how he had always enjoyed Star’s company and liked hanging out with him.
Thoughts of Star, himself, filled Sam’s mind, too; his kindness, his caring nature, his humor.. Sam felt his cheeks heat up, the familiar tightness returning to his chest and the strange mass fluttering in his stomach.
Realizing Vincent was waiting for an answer, Sam snapped himself out of his daze. He awkwardly cleared his throat before answering, “I dunno, Vince.”
“Well, if you do,” Vincent replied, chattering away once again, “I hope you fall in love with someone who’s awesome an’.. Someone who is nice, too.”
Sam chuckled. He reached down and ruffled his younger brother’s hair. He replied, a small smile forming across his lips, “I’ll keep that in mind, kiddo.”
“Ooh, like Uncle Star!” Vincent piped up, his eyes shining brightly. He was beaming now. Vincent added, “He’s really nice! He helps Mama out lots of times. Sometimes he even gives me candy, too.”
Sam’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.
“Okay, sweetheart, why don’t you come help me in the kitchen?” Jodi piped up, hurriedly herding her youngest son into the kitchen and attempting to shift the conversation’s topic. She spoke once again, “Sam has to go to work now.”
Sam sent his mother a grateful look, silently mouthing the words “thank you” before hurrying out the door.
…
“Uuuurgh,” Star grumbled, throwing himself backwards onto Alex’s bed. He buried his face in his palms. His phone was lying beside him, the screen lit up and displaying a wall of messages he had sent over the past three days - all unanswered.
“He still hasn’t responded?” Alex asked, a concerned look crossing his features.
Star shook his head. Alex frowned. He didn’t know much about Sam - save for second hand stories from Star - but he knew that this was upsetting his friend. Star was his best friend, after all, so it was no surprise that Alex was one of the first people Star found himself turning to after the events following the day of the picnic.
Star went to reach for his phone, though Alex quickly snatched it away from his grasp.
“Hey!” He groaned, his own frown creeping across his lips.
“Star, it’s been thirty seconds since you checked,” Alex scolded, shaking his head disapprovingly. He sighed before adding, “There is no way he would’ve answered in that amount of time.”
Star’s expression dropped, though he knew Alex was telling the truth. If Sam hadn’t replied in the past three days, what made Star think today would be different? He sighed, allowing him to slump off the edge of Alex’s bed and onto the floor. He hugged his knees to his chest.
“Why are you worried about whether he will reply or not, anyway?” Alex asked, pursing his lips together. “Maybe he’s just busy,” Alex reasoned. He was trying to be helpful, Star knew that, but Alex’s words did nothing to ease his mind.
Why was he worried? Star could think of a million reasons, none of them good. Perhaps the most pressing of all was…
“I can’t stop wondering if I did something wrong,” Star explained, looking down at his shoes solemnly.
“I mean.. If I did, I just wish he’d tell me, you know? Then...at least I could apologize. But it's so..” Star groaned again, pulling his hood over his head and curling himself into a small ball. “Frustrating.”
“It doesn’t help that I thought everything seemed okay that afternoon and.. He seemed relatively happy, too, but now.. He’s ignoring me and I can’t figure out what I did or said or didn’t say that I was supposed to. It’s driving me crazy and urgh..,“ Star was rambling now. He paused, looking up at Alex sadly. There was a worried look on his face.
Star spoke again, “What if he hates me now, Alex?”
“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, Star,” Alex replied, attempting to comfort Star. He reached over and gently patted Star’s shoulder. His lips formed a line and Alex tried to think of how best to support Star. He needed more information about what happened, though.
“But.. if you want me to help you..,” Alex started, waiting until Star looked up at him. He continued, another concerned look crossing his face, “I need to know what happened.”
Star sighed, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath before exhaling. He gave a small nod in Alex’s direction before mumbling a response.
“Huh?” The brunette asked, raising an eyebrow, “I didn’t hear that. Sorry.”
Star tried again, though his voice was still barely audible. Again, Alex asked him to repeat it.
“He kissed me,” Star eventually blurted out, his face red in embarrassment at how loud his voice had gotten.
…
“Sam?” Shane called out. He raised an eyebrow before waving his hand in front of the man’s face. He tried again, “You okay, kid?”
Sam did not respond. He was currently standing in the middle of an aisle, leaning against his mop, and staring off into space. He had been like this for a few minutes, but Shane had assumed it wasn’t that peculiar. Normally, Sam would zone out - get too engrossed in his music and need a “gentle reminder” from an angry Morris. This didn’t seem like that, though, and Shane found himself worried. He had seen Sam distracted, but the man was usually able to get through his shift alright.
“Kid?” Shane called out again. When he received no response, Shane snapped his fingers and added, “Neilson? Samson Neilson?”
Upon hearing his full name, Sam snapped out of his daze and turned to face Shane.
“Sorry,” He mumbled, quickly grabbing his mop and attempting to finish cleaning the aisle.
“Are you okay, Sam?” Shane asked, reaching out and grabbing the mop before Sam could wander off. He glanced at the man suspiciously. He continued, “Been callin’ your name for a while now.. I was worried you hit your head or somethin’.”
Sam’s mind had been racing, repeating the conversation he had with his parents earlier. For some reason, he couldn’t seem to get it out of his head. No.. That wasn’t it. He couldn’t seem to get Star out of his head. The sound of his laugh, the uniqueness of his smile, how whenever he was around Star, Sam found himself smiling, too. That wasn’t all that swarmed Sam’s mind, though. He thought about the softness of Star’s lips against his own, or the way Star’s hand fit snugly in Sam’s.
“Huh? Oh.. yeah, yeah,” Sam answered, a sheepish look crossing his features.. He rubbed the back of his neck before adding, “I’m okay, don’t worry.”
“Are you sure?” The older man questioned, still not entirely believing Sam’s words. Sam had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t simply meaning this moment, but Shane didn’t press any further. Instead, he simply grumbled beneath his breath - something about how Morris wouldn’t pay for their workman’s compensation anyway.
Sam thought for a moment, unsure how to answer. He chewed on his bottom lip in silence. Shane turned to leave the aisle, but Sam stopped him - calling out his name.
“Shane, wait.”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?” Sam asked.
“You just did,” Shane replied, though there was no malice in his voice.
Sam rolled his eyes. He gave Shane an unamused look and replied, “I’m serious.”
Shane shook his head and continued, “But, sure.. I don’t have anythin’ better to do. So…ask away.”
“What would someone - anyone, for uh… no particular reason - do if they.. um…” Sam started, his grip tightening nervously around the mop handle. He tapped the tips of his fingers together, his lips forming a small pout. He continued, though his voice was muffled, “kissed their best friend..?”
…
“What?!” Alex exclaimed, looking at Star in disbelief. His volume raised slightly and he added, “He kissed you?!”
“Shhh,” Star shushed, frantically covering Alex’s mouth with his hand. “Not so loud,” Star scolded, looking around to see if Evelyn or George had heard.
“Sorry,” Alex replied, lowering his volume once again. “But.. Sam kissed you and you didn’t tell me?”
“I just did,” Star mumbled, a frown forming on his lips.
“When did this happen?” Alex pressed, raising an eyebrow in Star’s direction.
“Three days ago,” The blond admitted. He looked away from Alex - staring down at his shoes once more.
“We were having a picnic, right? Then.. we started cloud gazing,” Star explained. He shrugged. There wasn’t anything unusual about this part, he and Sam did things like this quite often.
“And, after a while, Sam leaned in and well.. He said he wanted to kiss me - he even asked if it was okay, too.”
“I said yes, and he kissed me, and - don’t get me wrong, it was nice - but..” Star paused momentarily, his eyes still glued to the carpet beneath him. He continued, his voice more worried than sad, “I’m just worried I misread the situation. What if he wanted me to say no? What if he didn’t actually want to kiss me and.. And I made it weird?”
“Sam is one of my best friends, Alex,” Star explained. He finally looked up at his friend and Alex could clearly see the shininess of tears threatening to flow from the corners of Star’s eyes. Star sniffled, hugging his knees tightly to his chest once again. He spoke - his voice missing its usual cheeriness, “I don’t want to do something stupid and lose him, but.. I’m scared I already did.”
“I don’t think you’ll lose him, Star,” Alex replied. He reached over and gave Star’s shoulder a firm, affectionate squeeze.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, dude,” He reassured Star. He continued, “You’re just being hard on yourself, okay?”
“I know that,” Star answered, blinking to clear the tears from his eyes, “But that doesn’t make it any easier, you know?”
“Even if I know it’s completely irrational..” Star began, searching for the words to explain it, “I can’t help but feel like I did something wrong or that Sam wants nothing to do with me - just because his tone changed or he didn’t reply to a message.”
“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” Star asked, though he gave a half-hearted chuckle.
“No,” Alex replied, shaking his head, “It isn’t stupid.”
“I’d be upset, too,” The jock reasoned, his hand still resting on Star’s shoulder. “I mean, I’m upset for you, Star.”
“And, even though I’m sure Sam has his reasons, what he did wasn’t cool, man. You have a right to be upset at him. Don’t be so hard on yourself, Starry.”
Star did not reply. He simply looked at Alex, a sad smile across his features. Alex had never seen this side of Star; his usually bright and cheery personality seemed… dull. Even the mysterious glow that surrounded him appeared dim - faint and cloudy, as if it was reflecting his mood.
Star looked back down, shaking his head.
“I know I shouldn’t get myself so worked up over it.. And the rational part of my brain tells me that he is just busy,” Star reasoned, his expression falling. He rarely talked about this side of himself, but he knew that Alex would understand.
He sighed, pulling his hoodie strings tighter- hiding his face behind the fabric. He continued, “But.. there’s also this small part that is so loud - like..obnoxiously loud - that keeps telling me I should’ve reacted differently that day, you know?”
“So.. I’m just left here - confused and upset,”He expressed. Star paused for a moment. He sifted through his mind, trying to find the correct words to describe how he was feeling. Eventually, he continued, “Even if I know that - realistically - it had nothing to do with me, I can’t help but blame myself.”
“I keep replaying it in my mind; looking at each and everything I said or did and trying to figure out where I went wrong,” Star muttered, his voice muffled and barely audible, but full of a distant sadness. He continued to verbalize his thoughts, “I can’t seem to find it, no matter how hard I try.”
“It just.. sucks,” Star started, finally looking up at Alex once again. “It really sucks.”
“And, like, I wouldn’t blame him if he no longer wanted to be around me, you know?” Star vented, closing his eyes tightly. He clenched his fist, his sadness turning briefly into anger. By now, the faintest tear trailed down Star’s cheek and his light shifted from a warm, luminous yellow to a barely visible, murky grey. Alex looked at him, concerned, though he did not interrupt.
After a while, Star spoke again, his voice slightly dejected, “I just wish he would talk to me about it. Or talk to me about something, at least. Anything.”
…
“Huh?” Shane asked, taken aback by the question. He made an expression Sam could only describe as a mixture of perturbed and disbelief. He continued, “Why are you asking me that? Did you kiss Sebastian or something?”
“What?” Sam replied, dumbfounded. He shook his head - not believing what Shane just said, “No.”
Sam waved his hand dismissively, but he rephrased his question, although it hardly made it any clearer. “It’s just.. Hypothetically, if this person… did kiss someone - who happens to be their best friend - and then proceeded to… accidentally ignore them... Except they hadn’t meant to, perchance.. they just uh.. Couldn’t find the words to bring up what happened and by the time they did find the words, it would’ve been too awkward to reply.. How would they… fix it..? ..”
Shane shook his head, sighing. He smacked his lips together before replying, “I am not the right person to ask, kid.”
Shane was not sure why Sam decided to come to him - of all people - for advice, especially regarding something like this. “I mean, you’re looking at a guy who kissed someone, and then promptly vomited on them ‘cause he was so nervous,” Shane explained, grimacing as he recalled his encounter with the local farmer - Möhle - a few months prior.
“Yeesh..” Sam exclaimed as he looked at Shane, bewildered. He paused, reducing his voice to a whisper, “Did you really do that..?”
“That’s not important,” Shane replied - attempting to shift the conversation back to Sam. Shane didn’t feel like diving into it, mostly to spare himself any more embarrassment. Not that Sam would judge him - Shane knew he wasn’t that type of person.
“But, anyway, what is important is this; did you - or this person,” Shane started, quickly correcting himself to humor Sam. He continued, “Did this person mean to kiss their friend, or was it an accident?”
Sam thought to himself; was it on purpose? After all, he was the one who brought up the idea, he was the one who asked Star if it was alright, and, well, he was the one who wanted to kiss Star - even if he wasn’t entirely sure why at the time.
“Um.. on purpose,” Sam replied after some thought. He continued, explaining more of the situation, “I mean.. I - err. They asked first.”
“Uh-huh. And what did the friend say?”
“He said yes,” Sam replied sheepishly. “And.. then, this person leaned in and well..”
“I don’t see the problem?” Shane responded, confusion filling his voice. “Both parties agreed, right? Unless you did something - like vomit on him - I don’t really understand what you need help with, Sam.”
“No.. it.. The.. this person-,” Sam replied, stumbling over his words. He let out a groan of frustration. Eventually, he gave up trying to hide it and let out a small, reluctant sigh. Sam finally spoke once more, “Look, I.. I kissed Star and I don’t know what to do.”
“I mean.. I don’t want to ‘Sam’ this up - not like I usually do.”
“All I’ve done lately is make mistake after mistake,” Sam admitted sadly. He thought back to the concert; how he had smashed his father’s guitar (and how he had yet to reply to Sebastian). He had felt so lost - angry and confused, too - but.. Star had been there to listen to him. Star was always there to listen to him, Sam realized. A wave of determination fueled him and Sam looked up at Shane, speaking once more, “but.. I don’t want this to be a mistake, Shane.”
“I.. I’m still confused by it, but my father told me something earlier today and.. It’s making me realize that I might like Star - really like him,” Sam spoke, his voice gaining confidence. He felt lighter, the messy jumble of emotions slowly beginning to unravel itself as he spoke.
“But.. Before anything else, Star is one of my best friends,” Sam said, nodding to himself. He closed his eyes, a pang resounding through his chest. Sam continued, “I don’t want to ruin that.”
“I don’t think you’ll ruin it,” Shane stated matter-of-factly. He continued, “It might be awkward for a while. But.. if you really want him in your life - either as a friend or more -, you’ll get through that awkwardness, Sam.”
“And, hey,” Shane started, moving his hand and giving Sam a playful punch in the shoulder. He smiled at Sam before continuing, “At least you didn’t vomit on him, right?”
“Thanks, Shane,” Sam replied, returning the older man’s smile.
“Don’t mention it,” The purple-haired man responded, nodding in Sam’s direction. A few seconds later, he added. “We should probably get back to work before-”
Before Shane could finish, an announcement resounded over the PA system. Here at Joja Corp. all of our employees are devoted to working hard. Remember, together we thrive. The audio was distorted and muffled, but the message was clear (and passive-aggressive as ever, Sam mused); Morris had noticed they weren’t working. Shane scowled at the nearby security camera.
Sam grabbed his mop and lowered his head - resuming his work before Morris chastised him (again). He wasn’t sure how many times he could handle being in the man’s office - underneath his beady, scrutinizing stare. Sam shuddered. Throughout the rest of his shift, Sam’s mind was much clearer. He found himself working with a newfound vigor - as if his chat with Shane had added a much needed pep to his step.
After his shift ended, Sam practically sprinted to the breakroom and hurriedly gathered his things. He fished around in his pocket before pulling out his phone - unlocking it as soon as his fingers touched the cracked screen. His confidence from earlier returned and Sam took a deep breath, typing out a quick message before hitting send.
Hey, Star.
I’m sorry I haven’t replied recently.
Meet me in front of my house - tomorrow night, 8 P.M.
I’ll explain everything.
Before he could do that, however, Sam was determined to fix some other things, too. He just needed to find Sebastian
my brain is too tired to make witty quips so. i guess ill just title these with the ch titles. anyway ismho ch 3: apologies take time (and effort)
helloo again. bit of a different chapter this time. i guess sam and star are sharing the main character spotlight ? i dunno. anyway BIG thanks to my friends miles and sab for helping me choose robin's last name :) thank you again to sab for some awesome ideas regarding sebastian (mainly allowing him to be upset for a few chapters)
i hope to tackle a lot of the platonic relationships so i hope u dont mind me laying the groundwork w this chapter. very sebastian and star focused i apologize but hopefully itll tie it together later.. umm like i said i dont reallt have a plan for how long i want this to eb im just kinda writing until it feels right . also. star has both autism and adhd, as well as hyperempathy :) . he also has thassolophobia
summary: sam, racked with guilt and riddled with indecision, decides to postpone talking to his father and attempts to apologize to sebastian. star chooses to cheer up his friend and does some deep thinking. sebastian listens to star's advice and forms a plan.
warnings: none that i know of! maybe mentions of past divorce?
word count: 3086
ao3 link: here !
other chapters: chapter masterlist
you know the drill, babey! tumblr version below the cut :]
Hours after his conversation with Star, Sam found himself still unable to talk to his father. It wasn't that he didn't want to, no, it was simply that he couldn't find the right words. It didn't help that today’s events had continued to play in his mind: how hard he had worked to set the whole thing up, the rigorous practice the band went through to make it perfect, the numerous chords he missed or the lyrics he sang wrong, the climactic smashing of the guitar and.. his response afterward.
Sam groaned in frustration, throwing himself forwards and landing on his bed with a faint thud. It had all been such a blur - his emotions were running rampant and Sam hadn't given much thought to the things he was saying. But, now, hours later, he was filled with regret. He couldn't believe he had said the things he did - especially to Sebastian, of all people.
He hadn't intended for the day to pan out how it did, he hadn't intended to lash out at Sebastian, at Abby, however. that didn't change his actions. Yet.. Sam found that it didn't matter what he had intended. It mattered what had happened. Someone had gotten hurt. Sebastian had gotten hurt.
He knew Sebastian better than anyone. He knew what Sebastian had gone through, how touchy he was about the subject of his birth father or of Robin’s divorce to the man. He had known Sebastian since they were children and Sebastian had told him those things in confidence. Sebastian had trusted him. And… What did Sam do? He hit him where he knew it would hurt the most.
“Some best friend I am,” Sam exclaimed, burying his face in a nearby pillow with yet another noise of frustration. Sam felt like a complete and utter ass.
However, Sam realized he didn't have to mope around - regretting his actions. Instead he could march up to Sebastian's house and apologize. If Sebastian even still wanted to see him, that is. That would simply be a risk Sam had to take. He needed to apologize, to tell Sebastian how terrible he felt about the things he said.
…
So, Sam soon found himself making the long stride to 24 Mountain Road. He knew the path quite well - since he would often visit Sebastian - and hardly had to think about the route he took. It was as if his feet moved on their own, his determination (and remorse) pumping through his legs and pushing him onward.
Eventually, he arrived at the carpentry shop-house combo. Sam approached the door and attempted to knock, but his hand seemed to hover inches away - his fingers carefully curled around his palm, ready to collide his knuckles with the coarse door.
Sam wanted to apologize, and had even come all this way, yet.. he couldn't make himself knock on the door. A looming sense of dread washed over him. He knew Sebastian likely wouldn't want to see him, but, what happens if he did? What happens if Sebastian opens the door? Would he slam it in Sam’s face? Go off on him, tell him how horrible he was? Sam shook his head. Sebastian had every right to react that way. It was Sam’s responsibility to face the consequences - whatever they may be.
Just knock on the door, Sam thought to himself, his knuckles barely grazing against the dark, grainy wood. He took a deep breath before releasing it in a shaky exhale. He slowly moved his hand closer to the door but, just as he was going to knock, it creaked open - revealing a surprised Robin.
“Oh! Sam!” Robin exclaimed, looking at the man’s raised hand. She had a spare jacket draped over her arm - as if she had just finished what work she had paused to attend the show and was now heading outside. Robin pursed her lips together and continued in a polite tone, “I didn't realize you were coming over.”
“Hi, Mrs. Hendrix,” Sam replied sheepishly. He quickly lowered his hand, stuffing it awkwardly in his jacket pocket. He cleared his throat - attempting to shove down the uneasiness that threatened to choke him. He spoke once more, “Is uh.. Is Seb here?”
“Ah..” Robin started, giving a curt nod, “I'll check.” She peered around the corner, waited a few seconds (likely receiving some hidden signal from someone inside) and promptly turned back to face Sam. Robin shook her head.
“Sorry, Sam,” Robin answered, her mouth contorting in a small frown as she watched Sam. He hunched in on himself - as if he were a balloon that had begun to deflate. Robin couldn't remember a time when Sam looked so.. dejected. She pursed her lips once again before adding, “Do you want me to tell him you stopped by?”
“No.. I don't.. I don't really think that would be a good idea,” Sam admitted as he shook his head sadly, toeing the welcome mat beneath the door with the end of his converse. He gave a weak smile in Robin's direction before adding, “Thanks anyway, though.”
“Are you alright, Sam?” Robin asked, tilting her head in confusion. “After the show-”
“Hah.. would you look at the time? I promised my mother I'd pick up something..,” Sam interrupted, quickly stopping Robin from finishing her sentence. He knew what she would say. He continued, “but, uh, thanks for the chat, Mrs. Hendrix!”
Robin attempted to reply “you're welcome” but Sam had, once again, rushed away before the words left her mouth. Robin blinked in astonishment.
….
Inside of the basement 24 Mountain Lane, Star, from his position of hanging lazily off the edge of Sebastian’s couch - his feet dangling over the arm and his head nearly touching the plush carpet (almost making him entirely upside down) -, looked over at Sebastian and frowned.
“Sebs,” Star said, shaking his head in disapproval as he continued, “You're doing it again.”
“Huh?” Sebastian asked, momentarily stopping his typing long enough to look in Star’s direction, “Doing what?”
“Mm.. let's see.. Brooding, moping, sulking.. ,” Star replied, counting on his fingers for dramatic effect, “Do I need to go on?”
“I am not,” Sebastian retorted, furrowing his brows - which only further proved Star’s point. Star raised an eyebrow. Sebastian rolled his eyes, “Okay, well, I am now, but only because you're being a dingus.”
Star snickered, which caused Sebastian to shake his head. He attempted to ignore Star’s antics and resume his work. Despite Star’s usual joking, playful tone, he seemed quite serious.
He spoke once more, “You can't ignore him forever, you know.”
Earlier, Star had approached him after the show. That wasn't too unusual, Star was one of his best friends and often congratulated Sebastian and his band mates on their performances. What was unusual, however, was Star’s uncanny ability to sense other people's emotions. Eventually, Sebastian caved and invited Star to his home. Then, he told Star what had happened. Not that he needed to, anyway. It seemed Star had a knack for knowing things, sometimes without even realizing he knew them.
Now, hours later, Star had opted to stay with Sebastian. Sebastian didn't really mind and, even though he wouldn't admit it, he did enjoy Star’s company. Star's jokes always seemed to lighten the mood (or at least distract him), but.. it seems Star was less playful today. It made Sebastian’s wonder just how Star did it.
Sebastian grimaced, clenching his jaw. He did not respond.
“I'm serious, Sebastian,” Star spoke, this time more firmly. He pulled himself upward and turned to face his friend. Star continued, “He's your best friend, man.”
Sebastian scoffed, “Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes, attempting to act less affected than he was. However, the tension in his jaw and how he had clenched his fist gave him away.
“Sebastian,” Star pleaded, waiting for his friend to look at him.
“Look, Star,” Sebastian started, pinching the bridge of his nose with a small sigh, “I know Sam didn't mean it, okay? But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt.”
“I get that,” The blond mused, leaning over and propping his elbows on his knees.
“I just..” Sebastian attempted to speak, furrowing his brows in frustration. He sighed, “I shouldn't have egged him on, I guess. Tensions were high, Abs and I were pretty stunned by what happened, I don't know if any of us were thinking clearly. Maybe.. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten so angry at him for what he said.”
“True,” Star replied with a small nod. “But.. I don't think it's your fault. I don't think anyone is at fault, really..”
“You're allowed to be upset at him, Seb. You're allowed to feel hurt by what he said - even if he didn't mean to say it,” Star began. His lips formed a thin line and he looked over at Sebastian once again. He continued , “It’s just.. I don't think that hiding away in your room and ignoring him is a good way to go about it, is all.”
“Look, Seb, you don't have to forgive him right now - or even ever, really,.. But.. at least let him apologize. He can't do that if you refuse to see him.”
Sebastian thought for a moment, going silent to consider Star’s words. Eventually, he sighed and nodded, “That makes sense.”
“Like I said, it's your decision, man, but..” Star started, tugging on the strings of his hoodie. He continued, “I care about you, Seb. Both you and Sam. You're my friends, dude. And.. I know you care about each other, too.”
Sebastian sat there in continued silence. He did care about Sam - Sam was his best friend, after all. He and Sam had been friends for a long time - Sebastian went over to the Neilsons’ house more times than he could remember, especially during his parents’ divorce. That was what made Sam’s words so hurtful.
Sebastian chewed on the inside of his cheek. He knew how important the concert was to Sam, how disappointed he was when Kent hadn't showed up. Did he really blame him for something said when tensions were high? No, not really, he decided. Sam wouldn't have snapped if Sebastian hadn't insisted he tell him, Sam had even told him it wasn't a good idea.. Sebastian reasoned that they were both at fault. However.. he also knew it would be a few days before he was ready to forgive Sam. Sam was his best friend, after all, and Sebastian could only imagine how guilty Sam was feeling. Sam wasn't the type to say hurtful things, especially when angry, yet.. he had. Sebastian sighed - unsure of what to do.
He turned back towards Star and shrugged, “I'll think about it.”
Star nodded solemnly, allowing the conversation topic to drop. They sat in silence for quite some time. Eventually, Sebastian looked over at Star and gave him a playful grin.
“So… You care about Sam, huh?” Sebastian asked, his voice full of teasing.
“Oh, shut up,” Star whined, reaching over and throwing a nearby pillow in Sebastian’s direction. The dark haired boy chuckled, throwing his arms up to block. Star spoke again, “It's not like that, Seb.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow, skeptical, “Are you sure, Starry?”
“It's.. you know,” Star stammered, sticking his lower lip out in a pout, “We’re friends. He's my friend.”
“Right,” Sebastian confirmed, giving a small nod. He squinted, scrutinizing Star for a brief moment. Star looked away, once again busying his hands with his hoodie strings. Sebastian noted Star’s embarrassment and shook his head, “Whatever you say, man.”
“But, for what it's worth..” Sebastian started, giving a small laugh, “If you did think of him as more than ‘your friend’..”
“You're awful, Sebsy,” Star joked, playfully throwing yet another pillow in Sebastian’s direction.
Despite his protests, Star listened to what Sebastian was saying - really listened. He did care about Sam. Like.. a lot. He liked making Sam laugh or sharing silly memes through their messages. He liked how kind Sam was and how he always seemed to put others first, he liked how Sam was more emotionally intelligent than he let on. Star liked being around Sam, too. But…did this mean anything? Sam was his friend - one of his best friends, to be honest. He truly cared about him and felt happy whenever he was around him, but that's how he feels with all his friends, right?
So.. why did thinking about Sam feel so… different? Why had Star gotten so embarrassed by Sebastian’s suggestion? He wasn't really sure. Whatever it was, Star couldn't think about that right now. He shook his head, clearing the thoughts from his mind. What he needed to focus on was Sebastian and cheering his friend up- so, that's what Star did. And he knew exactly how to do it.
“C’mon, Sebs,” Star said. He paused for a brief moment, letting his eyes scan around the dark basement before speaking once more, “Let's go do something fun. Just to take your mind off things, yeah?”
“Star,” Sebastian replied, exasperated. He pointed towards his nearly finished coding module and shook his head, “I have work to do.” Star nodded in understanding, though Sebastian knew Star took things like this to heart, even if he wouldn't say it himself.
“Besides, I like my room,” Sebastian continued, motioning around. Sebastian spoke once more, repeating Star's words from earlier, “It lets me.. how did you put it? ‘Brood’.”
Star stifled a laugh, shaking his head. He quickly piped up once more, “I'm serious. I know you're busy, but.. locking yourself in your room isn't going to help.”
“Let's take a small break, then I'll let you get back to work, okay?” Star suggested, turning to look at Sebastian expectantly.
“You arent going to change your mind,” Sebastian asked as he looked up at Star and sighed, “are you?”
“Nope~,” Star replied, beaming towards Sebastian. That wasn't entirely true - Star would've easily backed down. He didn't want to force Sebastian into doing something, especially if he really didn't want to do it. He cared about Sebastian and respected his boundaries.
Sebastian pitched the bridge of his nose before replying a short, begrudging “Fine.”
Star pulled Sebastian up from his desk chair and practically dragged him out of the room. That was the thing about Star, Sebastian supposed, he had a way with people. You always found yourself compelled to take part in his antics (Sebastian had gotten roped in more times than he could count since Star moved in two years ago. Not like he minded, to be honest. Star was one of his best friends and, whether or not he’d admit it, Sebastian needed someone like Star in his life. He was grateful to him).
Another thing about him, Sebastian realized, was just how friendly Star was. Everywhere he went, the townsfolk would greet him cheerfully and listen to his jokes. It was as if, without even trying, he was what Pelican Town had needed. So.. Sebastian bit his tongue - holding back the complaints and grumbles he'd normally be spitting by now - and let himself be dragged through the town square.
After some time, the two arrived at the beach. Sebastian raised an eyebrow and eyed Star warily. Star didn't seem to notice, as he was too busy scrounging around for small rocks.
“Aren't you afraid of the water?” He asked, skepticism lacing his voice.
Star shrugged, though he gave a small nod, “Yeah.. but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate it.”
He pointed towards the glittering water, showing Sebastian how it shimmered and how the sunlight bounced off the shells beneath, making a sort of… iridescent reflection.
“Besides,” Star started, handing Sebastian a few coin sized pebbles - perfect for skipping. He continued, matter-of-factly, “You like the ocean, don't you?” Sebastian nodded.
“So.. I thought it would be nice to bring you here,” Star explained. He took a deep breath before motioning for Sebastian to walk onto the docks.
“Star,” Sebastian replied, another exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “Are you sure you're okay with this?”
Star nodded, however he stood at the edge of the sand. Sebastian turned and walked onto the dock. However, he managed to get only a few steps. Star hadn't followed Sebastian onto the creaky wood of the dock. He was trembling slightly and his feet felt like lead. He attempted to raise his foot, to walk forward and approach the dock. He couldn't seem to.
Sebastian noticed the empty space next to him and turned around. He spotted Star at the edge of the dock and walked back towards him. Once he had reached Star, he silently guided the man towards the sand and sat next to him.
“Sorry,” Star mumbled, drawing his knees towards his chest.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sebastian replied.
“I just.. I brought you out here so you could have fun..” Star said as he looked down at his shoes- beginning to make a small circle in the sand with the toe of his converse. He continued, “this isn't very fun, though..”
“Sure it is, Star,” Sebastian reassured his friend, pushing himself into a standing position and carefully taking one of the pebbles that Star had handed him earlier.
“Watch,” he instructed. Sebastian placed the rock firmly in his palm before pulling his arm back. Then, after a few seconds he flung it forward - letting the rock fly from his hand and gently skip across the surface of the water. He turned to Star and extended his palm, giving him a small smile. He spoke once more, “We don't have to be on the dock to have fun. And.. we can still admire the ocean from here, alright?”
“You're not mad?” Star asked, eyeing Sebastian’s hand warily. Sebastian shook his head. Star hesitated once more before taking Sebastian’s hand and pulling himself upward. He grabbed a few pebbles of his own and tossed them into the ocean - watching in awe as they bounced gingerly before sinking beneath the waves.
So, Sebastian and Star spent the next few hours skipping rocks and talking - simply enjoying each other's company. Sebastian was still upset, mainly at Sam, but spending time with Star - getting things off his chest - gave Sebastian a sense of peace.
Maybe, he thought, I’ll take Star’s advice.
Like he said, I don't have to forgive Sam, Sebastian reasoned, glancing over his shoulder towards the blue house in the distance. His thought continued, but.. I should at least hear him out, right? Then I can decide whether I should forgive him or not.
ISMHO CHAPTER 5: THE PICNIC
OH MY BOYS. i have been thinking about this chapter for DAYS. and its finally time to share it with you all eehehhe. this one is a bit longer & may seem confusing at parts. in the beginning, there is a text conversation happening between sam and star. sam's dialogue will be BLUE while star's will be ORANGE :)
as for warnings.. i dont think there's any. just some pining (like. a Lot of pining) and them being silly little guys :))
HOWEVER i will warn you of possible eyestrain, as there are bright colors on THIS version. if you would rather see a different version, please read the ao3 one which will be linked below!
sam's appearance is based off of the amazing art by nicoleknives on tumblr and the sam's new mullet mod by bugboybehaviour on nexus, as well as personal headcanons. star's appearance is ofc my design LOL. you can find more about him over at @stars-mischief
summary: sam tells star about his chat with kent, star suggests they do something to celebrate, the two have a picnic and began to unravel the complicated web of feelings they have for each other.
word count: 5509
ao3 link: here
other chapters: chapter masterlist
as always, its beneath the cut~ enjoyyy
After Sam’s chat with Kent, he found himself pulling out his phone, and, before he realized it, found his thumb hovering over Star’s contact. He couldn't quite explain it, but something compelled him to tell Star about his conversation with his father. He took a deep breath before typing and sending a small:
Hey..
To Sam’s surprise, his phone lit up a few seconds later - resounding with a faint ding. He glanced down and saw Star had sent a reply.
heya, sam!!
what's up? :)
Despite not expecting Star's fast reply, Sam smiled at the screen. He quickly typed up another response.
I took your advice.
Ding
which advice?
I give out a lot of advice, haha. :P
Sam rolled his eyes, though his smile widened. Star was always fun to talk to and Sam found he really enjoyed his jokes. Plus, Sam was especially happy after talking with his father…which reminded him of why he was messaging Star in the first place.
Haha, very funny. -__-
But, to answer your question, I talked to my dad.
Ding
ooh~~.
well.. how’d it go?
Sam pursed his lips together. It went well, didn't it? He felt much lighter than he had before - though, he still felt guilty about how things played out. He still needed to apologize to Sebastian, Sam was sure of that, but he wasn't sure how. He'd have to think more about it.
Good, I think?
We…we talked things out.
We both had a lot to apologize for.
Ding
I see.. well, i’m glad things worked out!~
A few seconds later, another ding.
ooh! i know
let's do something to celebrate.
Sam raised an eyebrow, confused. That was another thing about Star, Sam realized. He was always cheery and, even though he had more crazy ideas than normal ones, Star did care about his friends. He wanted to ensure they were appreciated and enjoyed doing things for them to - as he put it - “Celebrate the small victories” and to “see the beauty in everything”. Sam admired his optimism. As Sam was lamenting, his phone lit up once again.
Ding
but uh.. i don't have any ideas >_<
what do you think?
Sam pursed his lips once again - trying to think of something. Eventually, an idea popped into his head and he drafted up a response. He chewed on his lip anxiously, his thumbs hovering over the send button. Eventually, Sam took a deep breath and allowed his finger to press it - sending his message.
Hmm.. how about.. a picnic?
He waited. It was agonizing almost. A strange nervousness ate away at Sam, a feeling that wasn't calmed as he continued staring at his screen. He watched as the “delivered” soon turned to “read”.
Why am I so nervous? Sam thought to himself. He rubbed his hands against the fabric of his jeans - they had gotten quite sweaty in the few seconds Star’s three bubbles - signifying he was typing a response - bounced and disappeared. It’s just Star.. You hang out with him all the time.
It wasn't any different, right? Sam reasoned, however doubt crept in the back of his mind. If that was true, why did it feel .. so.. He couldn't quite place the emotion. It was strange; Sam felt both clammy, uncomfortable with sweat and soft, like he had been wrapped in a warm, fuzzy blanket. Ultimately, he decided, it was simply confusing - but.. he wasn't opposed to it.
The longer he tried to decipher his feelings, the more he over-thought his message. Sam had suggested the idea, but suddenly it caused a wave of embarrassment to cross over him. He hoped Star didn't think it was weird, he supposed. That's all he was worried about - right? Nothing else.
Sam took a nervous, shaky breath. Just as he debated deleting the message or sending another to try and rectify the situation, another ding resounded from Sam’s phone.
a picnic, huh?
that sounds fun~
A small breath of relief slipped past his lips - one Sam hadn't realized he was holding.
hehe. i'll be over in a few minutes, okay?
save me some snacks!~
Sam locked his phone with a satisfying click before slipping it in his pocket. He still felt rather nervous, but quite happy, too. It would be nice to take a moment to relax - especially after how stressful the day had been. Hanging out with Star would be a bonus. Star was always fun - even if they weren't doing anything special - and Sam always found himself feeling… brighter, in a way, after he spent time with Star.
Sam paced around his room, trying to calm his nerves and make a plan. He made a mental checklist: he would need to find a picnic blanket, a basket, and the food items. That shouldn’t be too hard, Sam thought to himself, Right? One issue that remained was this: Sam had no idea where any of the picnic supplies were. Luckily, however, he knew just the person who did.
“Hey, Mom?” Sam called out, peering around the corner and into the kitchen.
“Yes, dear?” Jodi called back - her voice rising to be heard over the sound of running water.
“Do you.. know where the picnic blanket is?” He responded, walking into the kitchen and scratching the back of his neck. Jodi raised an eyebrow and turned to face her son.
“You're having a picnic?” She asked, drying her hands on a nearby towel. She spoke once more, “Are you trying to impress someone?”
“Hah.. very funny, Mom,” Sam replied, a dry chuckle leaving his lips. Even though he knew Jodi was joking, Sam felt embarrassed by the teasing. Though, he didn't understand why he felt embarrassed. He shook his head and spoke again, “But, for your information, no. I'm not trying to impress anyone.”
“I’m just going to meet up with Star,” Sam explained, shrugging. He continued, “He gave me some good advice earlier and.. I wanted to thank him.”
That was another thing about Star: he appreciated the thoughtful things. Whether it be gifts or quality time, as long as someone put genuine thought into it, Star would appreciate it. Sam knew that, too. He also knew that he did want to thank Star - he was grateful for the help Star had offered and thought this would be a nice way to repay him.
“I see.. Well, in that case, the blanket is in the hallway closet,” Jodi answered with a small smile - a knowing, motherly smile - but she did not press further. Instead, she simply opened the fridge and grabbed a small container of strawberries. She turned back to Sam and placed them in his palm before adding, “Give these strawberries to Star, would you? They're his favorite.”
Sam nodded and took the container into his arms. He didn't think too much about Jodi’s comment and moved to gather the picnic blanket, a small basket to hold the items, and any other snack items they may need.
Afterwards, he thanked Jodi once more before turning to head outside. Before he got the chance, however, Jodi called out after him.
“Oh, and Sam?” Jodi called out, causing her son to glance back at her. Sam raised an eyebrow and Jodi simply replied, “Have fun, honey.”
Sam smiled at his mother, nodding at her words. He turned back around and walked out the door - the picnic basket and blanket resting over his forearm. Jodi smiled to herself. She shook her head with a small chuckle. Jodi liked all of Sam’s friends and - even if she often complained about the noise - genuinely enjoyed it when they came over to practice. She liked Star most of all - he was sweet, thoughtful, and offered to watch Vincent more times that she could count. She also liked how Star was respectful - both to herself and Kent.. More than anything, however, she liked how, whenever Star was around (or even brought up), Sam seemed.. Happier. More like himself, in a way. It was nice to see Sam this way and Jodi just wanted the best for her son.
…
Sam took his phone out for what might’ve been the umpteenth time - anxiously checking the small clock at the top of the screen before glancing around to see if Star had arrived yet.
Maybe he changed his mind, Sam thought sadly, a small breath slipping through his parted lips. Before his thoughts could spiral any farther, Sam noticed a brightly colored blob bounding towards him: the soft pastels of Star’s hoodie appearing almost luminous in the harsh sunlight. Sam nearly had to shield his eyes.
“Sa-aam~,” Star called out as he approached him, a wide smile spread across his lips. When he finally reached him, he practically launched himself, quickly wrapping Sam into a tight hug. Sam was used to this, as this was how Star greeted pretty much all of his friends, and sat the basket down to avoid crushing it. Star was very tactile and enjoyed giving his friends physical affection.
“Hey, Star,” Sam replied, chuckling as he returned the man’s enthusiastic hug.
“Sorry I’m late,” Star apologized. A small frown formed on his face and he added, “I had sand in my shoes.. So I went home to change.”
“But uh.. I guess I got sidetracked,” Star spoke once more, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish chuckle. Before Sam could process Star’s statement, the man was speaking once again.
“Anyway, I’m here now~. Let’s go have a picnic!”
“Oh, yeah. That reminds me.. I brought this for you!” He pulled away from the hug and began frantically searching through his hoodie pocket. After a few seconds, he pulled out a small box - now crushed from being in Star’s pocket. Inside the box was a bar shaped, maple frosted donut (or that’s what it was supposed to be, anyway. It looked like nothing more than a pile of frosting that vaguely resembled a maple bar). Star inspected it, though his brows furrowed together as he noted its condition. He spoke again, “Well.. It looked much better when I bought it..”
“Don’t sweat it, alright?” Sam replied, taking the crushed box and placing it in the picnic basket. He smiled at Star before adding, “It still looks edible to me. I mean.. I once drank a Joja Cola from the bottom of the lake.”
“You did not,” Star responded, a mixture of shock and amazement crossing his features. His face contorted in concern and he continued in a whisper, “Did you really..?”
Sam held up his hand and nodded, “Scout’s honor.”
Star grimaced and shook his head - as if trying to clear the image from his mind.
“It wasn’t as bad as it seems - honest,” Sam said, moving to defend himself. “It wasn’t even open when I found it.”
Star rolled his eyes, though a small smile spread across his face. A few seconds passed and Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, motioning to the basket.
“Well,” He started, crouching down to pick it up. He looked at Star then motioned to the forest. He spoke once again, “Should we go?”
Star nodded enthusiastically. Then, it appeared as if an idea popped into his head.
“C’mon,” Star instructed, taking Sam’s hand and tugging him along the path. He explained further, “I know the perfect spot. You’ll love it.” Sam raised an eyebrow - skeptical - but he did not question Star. Instead, he simply followed along, allowing himself to be dragged by Star’s hand.
Sam’s curiosity was the only thing that pressed him onwards - he followed along as Star guided the two of them into Cindersap forest. However, a small part of his mind wandered; thinking about the warmth radiating against his palm or the soft press of Star’s hand against his own, which were rough and calloused from practicing guitar. Star’s hand also seemed to fit snugly in Sam’s hands. It felt.. Nice, Sam decided.
Sam was abruptly pulled from his thoughts as a low hanging branch collided with his face. He grimaced, letting go of Star’s hand before rubbing the bridge of his - thankfully intact - nose. When he looked back up, they were now in a part of the woods he had never seen before. Part of him wondered how Star knew it existed, the rest knew enough about Star not to question him. Star had a way of finding strange things - it was almost as if the supernatural followed him around.
In spite of Sam’s confusion, he was still rather amazed. He glanced around: it was an open, nestled between towering trees. There were several large stumps scattered around, as well as a small pond delicately placed in the center. It was beautiful - peaceful, too, though it could be argued that it was due to the company.
The two spread out the picnic blanket, though it stirred up a large cloud of dust, causing the two men to erupt in coughing fits. Sam wondered if the blanket had been used at all (or at least in the last twenty-four years). After the dust cleared, Sam carefully smoothed the blanket over the firm ground, then the two sat down.
Sam rifled through the basket - bringing out an array of things he knew both he and Star enjoyed: sandwiches, some Joja Colas, some chips, and lastly, the strawberries Jodi had given him earlier. Star’s eyes lit up as Sam placed the container down.
“You brought strawberries?” Star asked, eyeing them intently but making no move to take one.
Sam nodded and replied, “Yeah. My mom.. She suggested it, actually.”
“She said they were your favorite,” Sam explained further. He reached into the basket and pulled out some chocolate sauce. He held it up mischievously before adding, “And, because I know you, I snuck in some chocolate to dip ‘em in.”
“Really?” Star asked, surprised. He hadn’t expected anything like this - especially something as thoughtful as Sam going out of his way to sneak in something extra. He was touched, to put it simply. He was typically the one who gave out thoughtful gifts, so receiving one - especially from people he cared about - was a change. A nice one, however. He pursed his lips together, trying to tell if Sam was serious. He spoke again, “I can really have some of these?”
He handed the sauce to Star and pushed the strawberries closer, saying, “Go ahead. I know you like them.”
“And.. besides,” Sam said, a sheepish smile spreading across his lips. He continued, “I wanted to thank you for the advice. It.. it was really helpful.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Sam,” Star said, shaking his head. He continued, “You would’ve done the same for me.. That’s what you do for the people you care about, right? You give them advice… or make ‘em laugh, or give thoughtful gifts.”
Sam nodded. As Star’s words sank in, Sam found himself smiling. Star would know that better than anyone, he supposed. Star was always doing things like that - caring for everyone around him. It was something he and Star had in common. It was also one of the reasons he admired Star, Sam realized.
“True,” Sam replied with a small shrug. He continued, pushing the container of strawberries closer to Star, “but I still wanted to thank you so.. Enjoy them, alright?”
Star smiled, and happily took a strawberry - practically drenching it in chocolate before biting into it with a faint but crisp crunch. Sam looked at him and felt the familiar warmth he’d grown accustomed to. It always seemed to find him whenever Star was around (Sam wondered if it came from Star, like the mysterious light that he’d sometimes emit - another thing he learned not to question, as Star never seemed to notice it). He hadn’t intended to stare, but seeing Star happy tended to draw him in. Unfortunately, this also means Sam noticed as Star dropped some chocolate onto the side of his cheek..
“Star,” Sam said, a small chuckle leaving his lips. He pointed at Star’s face and explained, “You uh.. You dropped something.”
Star looked at him, puzzled. Sam pointed once again, explaining exactly where it was, yet Star couldn’t seem to find it. Eventually, after several failed attempts, Sam shook his head
. “Here,” Sam offered, “let me help you,” Without thinking, he extended his hand and carefully rested it against Star’s cheek. He brushed his thumb against the chocolate - wiping it up.
Okay, Sam, he thought to himself, you should move your hand now. His brain screamed the command at him, though he felt his chest tighten.
His hand did not move. His thumb remained glued on the curve of Star’s cheek, as if the scattered constellations of freckles formed a black hole - drawing Sam’s hand in, keeping it firmly in place.
Star looked up at him, a confused look on his face, and Sam found himself absolutely mesmerized. He inched slightly closer and looked at Star’s eyes - really looked at them. They were a dark, stormy gray, though Sam swore he saw an almost purple gradient or even the faintest glimpse of constellations. It was like looking into the night sky, only this time, the sky could look back.
“Wow.. Your eyes look..” Sam spoke breathlessly, his voice teeming with awe. Thousands of words came to mind: beautiful, gorgeous, ethereal, astonishing, magnificent.
“Gnarly,” Sam continued. Gnarly? Sam mentally facepalmed. Come on, Sam, you had all those options and you chose…
“Gnarly?” Star asked, a laugh slipping past his lips. He raised an eyebrow, a teasing tone filling his voice, “You think my eyes are… ‘gnarly’?”
His face flushed red in embarrassment. Sam gave a sheepish chuckle, “I guess that was pretty dumb, huh?”
“No,” Star replied, shaking his head. He looked at Sam and a soft look spread across his face. Star continued, “I thought it was… cute.”
Sam felt his cheeks heat up once again. Star cleared his throat, motioning to Sam’s hand - which was still holding his face.
“Right, sorry,” Sam mumbled, quickly moving his hand away from Star’s cheek. He tucked it into his jacket pocket, even more embarrassed than he had been previously.
The two sat in silence - finishing off the rest of their picnic. Sam tried to ignore the tightness in his chest or how his breath would hitch in his throat everytime he glanced at Star.
After they had eaten the contents of the basket, they carefully packed up the empty containers and set it off to the side.
“This.. this was really fun, Star,” Sam spoke, turning to his friend. He continued, “So, uh.. Thanks. I needed something like this.” Sam was having a nice time - he felt relaxed, much calmer than he had during the show, but there was also an uneasy feeling in his gut; a fluttery one, that was warm, welcoming, too, but confusing. He almost didn’t want the afternoon to end.
As if reading Sam’s thoughts, Star piped up, “Well, it’s only three P.M., right?” He pursed his lips together, thinking. Star continued, “I don’t have anywhere to be..”
Sam mentally checked his calendar - he had called off work for the show, so - now that he thought about it - he also had nowhere else to be; no plans, no Morris breathing down his neck, no floors to mop, absolutely nothing. Not for another hour, that is. Another hour he’d willing spend with Star. He replied, “Huh.. Neither do I..”
“Then.. let’s stay here,” Star suggested. He looked around at the peaceful environment - noting how, despite how empty it felt, Star felt happy. It was beautiful: the tree’s lush with greenery, the spring breeze gently swirling around them - carrying the smallest hint of a floral smell from the seasonal plants that Evelyn was growing in the town square.
He looked up and noted how clear the sky was (save for a few clouds that were gently floating into view). Star remembered something he had learned: clear skies represented hope and endless possibilities. He glanced back at Sam, wondering if he was thinking about this, too.
“Just for a little bit longer,” He clarified. Star took a deep breath, turning to face Sam fully before adding, “Okay?”
“I’d like that,” Sam replied, a soft smile spreading across his lips. He asked, “So.. What should we do?”
Star pursed his lips together, glancing around for something they could do together. He looked up once more - an idea popping into his head as he did so.
“Let’s go cloud gazing.”
Star brushed off the blanket beneath him before laying down. Sam quickly followed suit - having to scoot closer to Star to ensure they both fit comfortably on the blanket. They glanced at the sky and took turns naming shapes the clouds resembled.
“That one looks like ice cream,” Sam said, pointing at a round, fluffy one.
“It does not,” Star retorted, a small laugh slipping past his lips. He shook his head before adding, “I think you’re just hungry, Sams.”
He reached his own hand upwards, pointing at one that was shaped like a half circle, surrounded by a cluster of smaller clouds and resembling a scoop of ice cream. He spoke once again, “Now.. That one looks like ice cream.”
“They are really beautiful, though,” Star mused, a small, content sigh slipped past his lips. He lowered his arm - draping it across his chest.
“Yes,” Sam replied, though he was no longer looking at the clouds. He looked at Star - who was mere inches away from him. The man’s light blond waves neatly framed his face and fell in a pool against the blanket - appearing almost like vanilla icing. Sam’s eyes scanned Star’s pale face, watching as Star’s eyes closed contentedly. He noted how the freckles, once again, scattered and dotted every inch of his face - as if they had been carefully picked to accentuate Star’s unique nose. A Greek nose, Sam recalled, mostly flat, though curved slightly near the end. It suited Star, too, as if all his features were being held together by this one aspect. Sam continued, “Yes they are.”
Star glanced over in an attempt to see which cloud had caused the shift in Sam’s voice. When he noticed the man staring at him, Star gave a chuckle.
“Dude, why are you staring at me?” Star asked, reaching over and playfully shoving Sam’s face back to the sky. He added, teasing in his voice, “You’re missing all the awesome clouds.”
Sam let out a small, sheepish noise, though he looked away - mumbling a small “sorry”. The two resumed looking at clouds, Star enthusiastically pointing at shapes and Sam nodding along.
After a while, Star lowered his arm - laying it next to him on the blanket. As he did this, his fingers brushed against Sam’s. Star glanced down, surprised by the sudden contact. He hesitated for a moment; simply waiting to see if Sam would move his hand away. When he didn’t, Star was overcome with a small wave of courage. He slowly inched his hand closer, allowing his fingertips to graze Sam’s hand.
Sam looked down but made no motion to stop Star. Instead, he gave a soft, welcoming smile in his direction. Star took a deep breath before placing his hand on the back of Sam’s hand. Sam glanced at him, then down at their hands once more. After a few seconds of consideration, Sam flipped his hand over - gently intertwining Star’s fingers with his own.
Star looked at their hands - his black painted nails resting ever so slightly against Sam’s knuckles, his ring pressed against Sam’s skin in a way that had to be uncomfortable. And yet.. Sam made no attempt to move away.
Star then glanced up at Sam, carefully taking in the details of his face: slightly tanned, textured skin - covered in acne and various other scars (likely from skateboarding), a faint dusting of stubble across his chin. His eyes trailed upward, noting the gray hue of Sam’s eyes - or was it green? Star couldn’t tell. Perhaps it was both - and the messy tufts of his mullet, hastily dyed and reaching the edges of Sam’s shoulders. Maybe it was the spring air, or the dimming light of the growing afternoon, but Sam looked… breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking. Star felt a small lump form in his throat and swallowed harshly. He shouldn’t be thinking about Sam - not like this. Sam was one of his best friends. Star didn’t want to ruin that. Yet… a small part of Star’s mind - his heart, too - wondered if that’s all he’d be.
He bit his lower lip, debating internally with himself. Eventually, Star turned his head to face Sam.
“You know,” He called out, causing Sam to look in his direction. Sam raised an eyebrow - waiting for him to continue. Star gave a soft chuckle, recalling the interaction from mere moments ago. He spoke once more, “You’re pretty ‘gnarly’, too.”
“You really think so?” Sam asked, tilting his head. That meant a lot - Sam felt like he had done nothing but embarrass himself this whole afternoon. It didn't help that - despite assuring his mother he was not trying to impress anyone - he found himself looking to Star for approval.
“Yes,” Star replied with a nod. He inched closer, looking Sam in the eye. Sam watched, his amazement returning once again, as Star’s eyes appeared full of miniature galaxies. It was absolutely mesmerizing. Star spoke once more, “I do.”
Sam did not respond. Instead, he - seemingly unthinkingly - reached his free hand out and rested it against Star’s cheek, mirroring the same gesture he'd done earlier. This time, however, Star placed his own hand on the top of Sam’s, wrapping his fingers around it and brushing against it with his thumb. Sam wasn't sure what it was yet, but a feeling inside him stirred. It urged him to move closer, to close the distance between the two of them.
Sam inched closer - slow, agonizingly slow. Eventually, when their faces were mere inches apart, Sam carefully brushed his thumb across Star’s lower lip before speaking, “I think I want to kiss you.”
“Is.. is that okay?” He asked, not moving any closer until Star responded. A small gasp - surprised and breathless at the close proximity - left Star’s lips. His cheeks flushed at the question, but something inside him also stirred. It was clawing against its confines in his chest, threatening to break free. It urged him closer. Star’s heart was racing, the sound almost rhythmic in his ears. Hope and endless possibilities, Star thought to himself, Remember? He took a deep breath.
Star nodded and responded, “Yes.”
The distance between them closed once more: inches, to centimeters, to millimeters, until there was no more space to close. Sam gently lifted Star’s face, tilting it ever so slightly (to avoid their noses crashing together) and connected his lips with Star’s own - careful and slow, as if one of them would shatter if they moved too fast.
Star allowed his eyes to flutter shut - leaning against Sam’s gentle touch. Electricity coursed through the two of them. It was as if small lighting strikes danced across the skin of their lips. It felt soft, too - like laying your head against a cloud. Underneath the softness, there was an ache; a gaping maw of yearning that had been slowly prying itself open, threatening to swallow them whole. There was also hunger: an insatiable beast that, after months of starvation, was receiving a feast, a beast whose wants neither of them had acknowledged - until now, that is.
Sam’s mind filled with sweetness; ripe strawberries, vanilla flavored chapstick, and even the faintest hint of chocolate. That was the only way he could describe Star - sweet. An aching, tooth rotting sweetness. He adored it. In contrast, Star had thoughts of savoriness; crisp Joja Cola, smokey maple, and a faint, beachy saltiness. He was enamored by it.
The two parted, their faces flush with embarrassment. It had only been mere moments - a few seconds, at most - but it felt much longer.
“Wow.. that was..” Star started. He paused, looking for the word to describe it. Eventually, he found one and replied, “Gnarly.”
“Oh, shut up,” Sam whined, rolling his eyes at Star’s teasing. Star laughed, though he apologized. - throwing up his hands and mumbling “sorry, sorry”.
To show he wasn't actually upset, Sam shook his head playfully and responded, “You aren't going to let me live that down, are you?”
“No,” Star answered, shaking his head in a light-hearted manner, “No I am not.”
“You're awful,” Sam laughed, playfully pushing Star away.
“Samson, How could you!” Star replied as he gave a dramatic gasp. He rolled off the picnic blanket, sprawling out on the grass next to it..
“You're so dramatic,” Sam teased, Sam stood up, rolling his eyes at Star's antics and walked over to him.
“Yeah, right,” Star scoffed, though he stuck his hand in the air and added, “Help me up.”
“Alright, alright,” He grumbled, reaching his hand out and attempting to pull Star to his feet. Instead, however, Star pulled Sam downward - causing him to land on the ground next to him. The two erupted into a fit of laughter.
Star beamed - revealing his toothy grin once more and causing Sam’s heartbeat to speed up. Something about the expression made Sam’s head spin - perhaps it was the rarity of seeing Star’s smile, his true smile.. Or maybe it was because of Star himself, Sam wasn't sure anymore.
The two remained like this - no longer laying on the blanket, but rather beside it - for some time. It felt nice; peaceful, even. Like it was always meant to happen. Despite his parents faith, Sam had never been certain about “fate” - aliens and UFOs, sure, but fate.. It always eluded him. Perhaps a small ring of doubt in his mind chose not to belief in fate, had chosen not to get his hopes up, because of his father’s constant absence or the constant worry he might lose him. But, looking at Star, Sam thought differently for once.
If fate is real, Sam thought to himself, then I’m glad it allowed us to meet - even if nothing else happens. I think I could be okay with that. He was glad to have Star in his life and genuinely adored their friendship. Maybe, just maybe, Sam was beginning to realize he adored Star, too.
Before he could think deeper about it, his phone buzzed - snapping him out of his daze. He reached for it, quickly checking the time.
. It was now four in the afternoon, which meant he should be helping Jodi set up for dinner. Sam groaned and pushed himself into a sitting position.
Star looked at him, confused. “What’s up?” He asked, sitting up and tilting his head in Sam’s direction.
“I promised I’d help my mom with dinner,” Sam explained, a barely noticeable frown creeping across his features. He stood up and began gathering the picnicking supplies.
“Well, I guess we should head back, then....” Star stated, following Sam’s lead and standing as well. He dusted off his jeans, though he noticed they appeared slightly grass stained. Sam nodded, motioning for Star to lead the way.
The two exited the secluded area of the woods and began walking towards town. They chatted - mostly rambling about random topics or laughing at each other’s jokes.
As they approached the front door of 1 Willow Lane, they each found that they were reluctant to say goodbye. They hesitated, hovering outside the door, yet Sam did not enter. Eventually, it was clear Sam needed to go inside.
Star turned to face Sam, looking slightly sad. He spoke first, “I guess you should go inside, huh?”
Sam nodded and lifted his foot - attempting to climb the stairs. Before he could, however, Star grabbed his wrist and called out…
“Sam, wait.”
“Yeah?” Sam asked as he turned back to face his friend, slightly confused. He raised an eyebrow before adding, “What’s up?”
“This was,” Star started, his breath slightly shaky. He gulped harshly and tried to find the words. Eventually, he took another breath and continued, “Really fun.”
He continued cheerfully, “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Anytime,” Sam replied, nodding in agreement. It was fun, wasn’t it? Today’s events had been an emotional rollercoaster - from the anger he had felt, to the guilt, then the relief when he finally talked to his father, and now… this. But, Sam found that he felt much lighter, too. He always enjoyed hanging out with Star - even if he did tease him about his poor word choice.
“I’ll see you around?” Star asked, finally letting go of Sam’s wrist. He watched him approach the door, Sam’s hand hovering over the doorknob - as if he was considering something.
Sam nodded, a soft look crossing his features once again - sort of a half smile, his lips curling up at the edges.
“I’d like that, Star.”
With that, Sam twisted the knob, slowly creaking the door open and stepping inside. Star watched - waving the entire time. When it was clear Sam was out of view, Star turned and headed home.
ISMHO CHAPTER 2????
omg.. hi guys i finally picked this back up Lol. bit of a shorter one but i think itll help set the stage for what comes next. also WHAAAT is this self indulgent samstar?? its more likely than u think.
ps u can find more about star over at @stars-mischief wink wonk
summary: after running off, sam is approached by a familiar face and receives some advice.
word count: 2108
warnings: none
ao3 link: here
other chapters: chapter masterlist
Eventually, exhaustion seemed to overtake him and he slumped under a nearby tree.
How could he have said all those things? Sam wondered. How could he have been so careless, so selfish, so.. Angry? It wasn’t like him at all. He didn’t like it. Sam had just lashed out at two of his best friends, he had just smashed a guitar, and then promptly stormed off. He didn’t even know who he was anymore. It was… jarring, in a way.
Sam didn’t realize how much he was counting on Kent’s presence. Nor did he realize just how much the lack of it would hurt. He ripped off his jacket and wadded it into a ball. It was just another painful reminder of everything he wished for: his father’s approval, his father’s praise, hell, even his father’s love, at times. He knew Kent loved him, he knew Kent had reasons for not coming, but neither of those facts made it hurt any less.
From the time Sam was sixteen, he had cared for his younger brother in a way that he wished his father would’ve cared for him. And, even though he would deny it if you asked, a part of him would always be resentful for Kent’s constant absence. He was understanding, yes, and he knew why Kent continued to return to service, but Sam would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt.
He would be lying if he said he didn’t wish that he could’ve enjoyed teenage years without worrying that his father may never return home. He would be lying if he said he didn’t spend several nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, paralyzed by the fear of something happening to Kent.
However, he did not hate his father. No, Sam loved his father more than anything in the world. He longed for his praise, his approval. When Sam was younger, he thought Kent was the coolest person in the world. A part of him still did, he supposed. Sam thought his father was insanely brave and truly admired him for what he has done. However, he wished that, just once, his father would choose their family over his profession. That his father would choose him.
Don’t be so stupid, he scolded himself, that’ll never happen.
Sam sighed and attempted to push the thoughts from his mind. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing down at the wad of fabric held tightly in his palms. It was a dark, faded denim, with holes near the collar and scattered all across the sleeves. It was tattered from age and constant use, but Sam couldn’t bear to replace it. The jacket, like many other things, had belonged to Kent. Sam wore it (and a small cluster of dog tags, belonging to Kent and two of his fallen comrades) almost every day. It made him feel closer to his father, in a way. Or at least it usually did.
Now, holding the jacket in his hands, gently brushing his thumb across the coarse fabric, Sam felt the ever expanding distance between himself and his father. It seemed that, no matter how hard he tried, his father was always out of reach and, if Sam attempted to reach out - to stretch farther and graze the man with his fingertips - Kent would move ever so slightly, expanding the distance between them once more. Oftentimes, Sam wondered if it was truly worth the effort.
Busy with his thoughts, Sam did not notice the footfalls of a person approaching. He simply stared down at his hands, his mind swirling and swelling as he thought about how the day’s events had transpired. The only thing that seemed to garner his attention was a shadow that suddenly loomed over him, as if someone had walked in front of the light and were now peering down at him. It was accompanied by a soft, familiar voice.
“Sam?” The voice asked, causing Sam to break out of his stupor. He looked up - expecting Sebastian or Abigail, or even his mother. However, who he saw was neither of those people. It was someone else entirely. A newer resident of Pelican Town - one who had moved in a few months prior to Sam’s concert.
“Star?” Sam replied, bewildered. He glanced around at the remote area and then at the man who stood in front of him. He spoke once more, “How did you find me out here?”
“Lucky guess,” he chirped. Sam raised an eyebrow, suspicious. Star simply chuckled, his mouth contorting in a faint grin. That was one of the many mysteries of Star A. Nonymous: whenever someone needed him, whether they knew it or not, he would appear.
Sam looked up at him, squinting to see his features. He noticed the light carefully bouncing off of Star’s light blond waves, trailing down to his vibrant eyes before finally settling on the pale skin of his cheeks - dusting across them as if the light’s only goal was to caress every single freckle it found. Sam tore his eyes away, shifting his gaze to the cold, dark ground - he noted how it seemed to be contrasted by the vibrant teal and stark white coloring of Star’s converse.
“What are you doing here?” Sam grumbled, staring intently at the dirt. He hadn’t intended for anyone to find him, least of all Star. It wasn’t that he disliked Star - quite the opposite, actually - it was simply the events of today, the emotions Sam had felt… it all terrified him. He wasn’t sure recognized himself and he certainly didn’t want to lash out at anyone else.
“Mm,” Star started, pursing his lips together into a thin line. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“But… I think I already know the answer to that question,” Star added, a small sigh slipping past his lips. He lowered himself to the ground, sitting a few feet away from Sam.
Sam did not respond. A small wave of guilt had begun to creep over him. Star didn’t outright say it - he did not need to. Sam knew what Star was talking about - what everyone was talking about. He wouldn’t be surprised hundreds of people had shared the video by now. He could almost see the captions and headlines: “Goblin Destroyer’s guitarist and vocalist Sam Neilson smashes guitar in a fit of fiery rage”. He grimaced.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Star offered, giving Sam a kind, understanding look. Noting Sam’s silence, and how the man refused to meet his gaze, Star gave a curt nod and added, “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”
“But.. I just want you to know that I’ll be here,” Star spoke once more. When the only reply was more silence, he looked away, though his voice remained kind and judgment free as he added, “Or.. if you’d rather me leave you alone, that’s fine, too.”
Sam listened intently. Something about Star’s words - how concerned, yet free of judgment they sounded - beckoned him. Something made him want to tell Star - to open up, to dive into lines of thought he had long buried, to open old wounds long scarred over. That was another thing about Star, Sam supposed. His presence was understanding - comforting, even - and Sam found himself drawn to it. He couldn’t quite place it, but he knew Star would understand him better than anyone ever had.
He told Star everything.
Star listened in uncharacteristic silence, deeply taking in Sam’s words. When Sam had finished recounting the circumstances leading up to the performance - explaining how he orchestrated the whole thing for his father - Star gave another nod.
“I see,” Star spoke finally, his lip forming into a slight frown. He looked at Sam, noting the frustration and sadness that he usually hid. It was rare to see Sam in this state - raw, achy, allowing himself to feel his own emotions - rather than stuffing them down or distracting himself with the problems of others.
Star reached a hand out, slowly inching it towards Sam’s own - intent on giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. However, he wasn’t sure if he should and stopped a few inches short. He mumbled, “I’m sorry. That must be so frustrating.”
“I guess,” Sam replied, shrugging his shoulders. He continued, “It doesn’t matter, though. What’s done is done. He wasn’t here. Nothing I do can change that fact.”
“Mm.. I suppose that’s true,” Star piped up. He followed Sam’s gaze, his own eyes trailing to the wad of fabric in the guitarist’s hands. An idea popped into Star’s head and he spoke once more, “Aren’t you the least bit curious why he wasn’t here, though?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well.. I don’t know much about your dad but.. He doesn’t seem like the type to just break a promise like that…” Star explained.
Sam gave a humorless chuckle, shaking his head, “You’d be surprised.”
“All I’m saying is..,” Star’s eyebrows furrowed together, deep in thought. He spoke again, “There has to be a reason, right?”
“I guess so.”
“There you go! That’s a start,” Star replied, beaming. Sam looked at the man’s toothy grin. It was almost enough to make him want to smile as well. Almost.
“I still don’t understand what you’re suggesting, Star,” Sam grumbled, hugging his knees to his chest. He added, “There’s a reason, so what?”
A look of disbelief crossed Star’s features. He shook his head and explained even further, “Doesn’t a small part of you want to know what that reason was, instead of just accepting it as something that happened?”
Sam thought for a moment. He had to admit, a rather large part of him was curious about Kent’s continued absence - even if he was understanding about it. Eventually, he nodded.
“So.. talk to him about it,” Star suggested, “Explain your side and listen to him.”
“Look, Sam,” Star started. He turned to face Sam, his expression and voice now much more serious. “I can’t guarantee it’ll help.. But I think it’s worth a shot. At the very least, you can explain how much it hurt you.”
“At the end of the day - whether you talk to him or not -… it’s your decision and I will support you and whatever you decide,” Star began, a small sigh slipping past his lips.
“Just think about it,” He continued, “okay?”
Sam sighed, stricken with indecision. He weighed the two options: on one hand, he could act as if this never happened, only to be confronted about the guitar. On the other, he could readily admit his mistakes and finally explain (both to himself and his father) what he had been ignoring for all these years. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, mulling over his thoughts further. He knew that, if he continued to ignore his negative emotions, they would only fester and may even cause him to lash out - likely in a way worse than he had today. Sam didn’t want that to happen.
Eventually, he looked at Star and nodded, “Okay.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Sam decided. Star smiled at him and, unlike before, Sam smiled back. Star couldn’t quite place it yet, but upon seeing Sam’s smile, a strange warmth had settled over him. Perhaps it was the way his lips curled at the edges - ending in faint dimples - or the fact that seeing Sam smile was like stepping into a gentle patch of sun. Star concluded that it was simply because he enjoyed seeing Sam smile.
However, Star’s thoughts were interrupted by Sam speaking once more, “Thanks for the advice, Star.”
“Don’t mention it,” Star replied, smiling once again. However, this one was quite different. Sam found himself staring at it, watching his friend’s eyes crinkle as the corners of his cheeks curled upwards. A wide, toothy grin - one that showed off the small tooth gap and fang-like canine teeth. A smile like this from Star was quite rare. Sam wasn’t sure what he had done to be lucky enough to see it, but he did know something: he liked seeing it.
Eventually, Star opened his eyes once more. Sam looked away before awkwardly clearing his throat, letting out a faint “uhm” - trying to ignore the strange warmth that filled his chest. Sam looked down at the jacket once more and pushed himself into a standing position.
“I’m gonna… go find my dad,” Sam explained, pointing over his shoulder with one of his thumbs. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, though his eyes refused to meet Star’s own. He mumbled, “I’ll.. uh.. I’ll see you around?”
Before Star could reply, Sam had turned and began walking away.