𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 through him, through the facade he made for himself, to protect himself ⸻ walling himself from others, removing all possibilities of a connection. and yet, here sam was, standing before him as he held the remnants of his guitar, pointing at sam as he breathed heavily. it drove him crazy, being stranded, being on his own. he fucking hated it more than anything. blinking at the other, his grip tightens on the neck of the guitar, scowling. ❛ once upon a time, i did. that was a long fuckin' time ago ⸻ things change. ❜ maybe he hasn't changed in all his time, in his reflection. maybe he was just putting on a show, putting on his best behaviour to get out of here, this god forsaken beach. he wanted to be free and sam was his only ticket out. higgs always suspected one day sam would stop showing up, leave him to his own vices again like he'd done before … leaving him to wander tens of thousands of years on his beach. it would make sense and he wouldn't blame him. there was no saving him, he made his bed and he's laid in it. ❛ say whatever you came here to say. ❜