IF YOU DIED, I’D HOPE YOU HAUNT ME
PREFACE.
FUTURE: NOVEMBER 19TH.
Sam looked around for Austen, wondering where the natural blue had gone. He wanders around the small apartment, trekking to the kitchen, through the dining room. He stood awkwardly in the middle of Austen's living room. He grows anxious, subconsciously running his fingertips along the words permanently attached to his wrist. "So keep out of my room, because I've seen enough of you today," it said. He didn't understand what that meant, and he wondered if it had anything to do with the argument he had with Austen not too long ago. He didn't have an indication to believe that Austen was his soulmate, especially since he had spent the last six months constantly on-and-off with his feelings for the blue-haired man. He felt bad, but he wasn't sure what else to do.
"Austen?" Sam had called out as he continued to pace around the living room. He walked slowly down the hallway, heading towards the door that led to Austen's bedroom.
"Go away," Austen replied back. Austen was sick of the feeling, sick of the way Sam had him confused and wrapped around his finger. He was sick of having to ask Sam twenty-one questions to get an answer that wasn't vague. He hated the feeling of unease he felt when he was around Sam, especially since that feeling was accompanied by admiration and love. He loved Sam, he really did. But he knew it wasn't healthy for him. This wasn't healthy for him, the way he felt and the way he was. Sam was wrecking him and he didn't even know it.
"Austen, please," Sam begged, placing his hand softly on the doorknob, hoping it wasn't locked. "We need to talk this out. I know I said some things I shouldn't have, I'm so sorry."
"I don't want to talk to you right now," Austen said angrily as he curled himself into a ball. He sat in the corner of his room, the one he deemed as his "sulking area." He wanted to be alone; he wanted to be lost in his thoughts. He wanted to be alone, but he was scared. He didn't know if he could trust himself.
"Please-" Sam began, but Austen cut him off.
"No! Just leave me alone!" Austen said shakily, fear lacing the words that spilt from his mouth. He couldn't be alone; he knew he shouldn't be left alone, not with the thoughts that wove his mind together. Not right now.
"You know what, Austen?" Sam started, anger fortifying his voice. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but what happens next? I guess we'll never know."
"You'll never know until we're gone," Austen hissed at him, shaking from the trending anxiety that he refuses to play along with.
"Austen, I can't deal with you if you won't even bother to deal with yourself," Sam spoke softer, though still fastened with anger and disappointment. "You can't just push me away when I'm trying to help you."
Sam turned the knob slowly and entered Austen's room. He looked over at the natural blue, and he wondered himself if he were more of a blue than the yellow Austen sought him out to be.
Sam was worried about Austen, there's no doubt about that, yet he was so angry. He was fuming at what Austen had said to him, though he knew in the back of his mind that it wasn't entirely Austen's fault. Sam didn't want to believe it. He let his emotions consume him this time - something he hadn't let happen in years - and he had had enough with Austen's behavior. Sam thought about how he shouldn't blame the entire problem on Austen but... He didn't want to admit that he was part of the issue. He didn't want to admit that there were other parts of the issue - some that he caused. It was too much to handle.
"I said to go away!" Austen screamed at Sam, who stood in the doorframe, staring at the boy. Sam didn't move, nor did he say anything. Neither did Austen.
Austen felt awful about the situation. He hated that he was feeling so hot and cold and he hated that Sam was coming and going and everything was such a mess. Austen felt a consistent deep blue. His chest hurt and felt heavy; he had trouble breathing and he knew he was panicking. You need to rid yourself of the situation, Austen thought to himself, you need to get out of Sam's life so you don't ruin it any more than you already have.
"Look, Austen, I'm mad at you," Sam said, "and you hurt me, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you."
"Yeah, I hurt you," Austen scoffed, "and you shouldn't. Why would you? If I'm so bad!" He felt his lips trembling, his eyes watering and his throat tightening; he knew he was about to cry, to break out into heart-wrenching sobs. Austen wouldn't let Sam see that. Austen didn't want to make Sam feel any more pity for him than he already had. He felt bad enough as it is, that Sam was still fuming in anger and yet still was worried about him.
"Austen-"
"So keep out of my room because I think I've seen enough of you today!" Austen burst out. He had tears rolling down his cheeks, but he ignored them.
Sam felt a pinch on his wrist, but he ignored the feeling and left the room at Austen's request. He closed the door softly and sat down, laying his back against it.
"I can't help you if you don't want it," Sam said quietly. "My sun still sets without you, like nothing ever happened."
Austen felt a stinging sensation on his wrist. He looked down and instantly knew that Sam was meant to be his, whether Sam wanted to admit it or not. Austen broke into a silent sob, knowing that his future no longer existed. His future was now. The present is all he had left.
Sam heard Austen's sobs, but he did nothing about it. Sam kept telling himself he needed to be strong, to let Austen know that he couldn't keep doing this to him. Sam buried his face in his hands, his hair falling into his eyes. He felt so terrible to make Austen feel that way, but he thought it would be for the best. He hated that he wanted to say sorry, even though it wasn't his fault.
Austen stumbled into the bathroom that was connected to his room. He felt he had no other choice than to go through with what fate had set up for him and Sam. He opened the medicine cabinet, grabbing the pills that were supposed to help him with his bipolar disorder. He opened the bottle, pouring the lithium pills into his hands.
Sam opened his eyes after managing to calm himself to his normal demeanor, the words on his wrist catching his eye. His wrist had been hurting for the last few minutes and he pondered why. He hadn't sprained it recently or anything.
"So keep out of my room because I've seen enough of you today," Sam read quietly, his fingertips grazing the blackened words softly. The wheels were turning in his head, his eyes widening in fear as he realized what was wrong.
Sam's eyes opened to pitch black as he shot up in his bed. He looked around, breathing heavily.
"It was all a dream," he breathed.
I’M DYING TO BE YOUR EVERYTHING
PRESENT: APRIL 28
Austen decided that today was the day. It was the day he was going to confess to Sam, to tell him the things he's been hiding from him. Austen had a bad feeling in his gut; he was threaded with anxiety at the thought of everything that could possibly go wrong. Austen wasn't sure whether it would go well or not, for Sam had been giving confusing signs. Maybe I was just reading him wrong, Austen wondered. He shrugged the thought off and pushed it to the back of his mind. He decided he wouldn't worry about it until it was time.
Austen had planned to tell Sam later that day at their after-school event, showcasing the different things the students at their college had made - whether it be art, music, creative writing, any form of the arts was there. Austen had submitted one of the many songs he had written. He had a difficult time choosing one, but he had a good feeling on his favourite, Blonde. He had only written the lyrics, as once he realized when the projects were due by, there wouldn’t be enough time for him to demo it.
Austen had stayed after their last class that day to help a few others set up. The two were underclassmen, only being in their sophomore year. Their mutual friend, Elias, was in his junior year, along with their other
friends, Darren and Justin. Elias’s newfound friends, Sierra and Adrianna, were in the freshman year. And then there was Chloe, who was in her junior year as well. Austen liked Chloe, he really did, she was funny sometimes, but he couldn’t help but to think about the elephant in the room every time she was near: jealousy.
Austen shrugged off the thought of Chloe, sternly telling himself that today was going to be a good day - the best day - and that he wouldn't let his silly thoughts get the best of him. Not today, Austen told himself, not today.
Austen took a deep breath before entering the auditorium - or at least that’s what the school called it - where the event would be held. He looked around to see there were already people there setting things up. He saw Sierra and Adrianna talking with Elias, Darren and Justin were helping a boy with flaming red hair - who Austen believed was named John - set up TVs, and he saw a multitude of different people setting up the art gallery and people assembling the Mac lab on the other side of the room. What he didn't see was Sam. He wondered where he was.
Austen took out his phone and looked at the time. Three o'clock, Austen thought, he should be here soon.
Austen took a deep breath, ignoring the bad feeling pooling in his stomach, and walked further into the room. He approached Elias, Sierra and Adrianna, greeting them.
"Hey," Austen said. Sierra waved at him while Adrianna and Elias returned the greeting.
"Have you seen Sam?" Elias asked. Austen shook his head.
"I was just about to ask you," Austen shrugged. "I haven't seen him all day, actually."
"He was with us earlier," Sierra said. "Adrianna and I got lunch with him around noon and we saw Chloe sitting by herself outside in the common room so we sat with her."
"Oh," Austen mumbled. "He's still coming, right? It wouldn’t be that fun without him."
"I'm sure he is," Elias said hopefully, patting Austen on the back. "It's only three, his last class just ended ten minutes ago."
"Yeah, yeah, you're right," Austen said slowly, nodding. "What needs to be done here?"
"Right, yeah. Darren, Justin and John have the TVs taken care of, since they're the tech-y ones. Sierra and Adrianna are supposed to be cleaning the screens of the Macs but they're clearly distracted by my beauty," Elias began, being cut off by Sierra and Adrianna scoffing, "I'm going to start sweeping the floor, so you could probably help me with that. Or if you want, you could help out Steve and his friends over there with the art gallery- actually, no, they're almost finished doing that- wow that was fast-"
"Elias."
"Right, sorry, getting off track," he apologized, shaking his head. "Blake is setting up the Macs over there, but I think him and Travis have that handled. I guess you're just stuck sweeping with me, and so is Sam, whenever he gets here."
"I'll go get a broom, then," Austen said, nodding. He walked away from Sierra and Adrianna, Elias following him, into the custodian closet. He grabbed two brooms, handing one to Elias. Austen decided that Sam could grab his own since it was now three fifteen and he still had yet to show up. He probably grabbed something to eat, Austen thought, or maybe he ran into someone.
Elias noticed the subtle change in Austen's presence, changing from blue to blonde. Elias wasn't sure whether it was his place to ask if he was alright or not, especially when he knew Austen didn't like to talk about his problems to just anyone. Elias knew he was the most open to him and Sam, deciding that this was fine territory. It was okay to ask. And so he did.
"Hey, Aus," Elias said, grabbing the natural blue's attention. Austen looked up at him, waiting for him to continue. "Are you okay? You're looking a bit blonde."
"I feel it too," Austen mumbled, shrugging as he continued to sweep the dirty floor. Austen wondered if there was even a use in trying to clean. At this point, the floors were stained with the dirt and scrapes from the chairs. "I just, it's just Sam, you know? And like, I don’t know. It’s dumb."
"I guess," Elias shrugged, understanding that Austen wanted to drop the subject. Elias decided not to push. Austen would tell him if he wanted to. "Just remember I’m always here if you want to talk about it."
Austen sighed, checking the time on his phone again. Three twenty. Where is he?
As if on cue, the door to the building opens, revealing Sam. And Chloe, Max and Wade.
"Austen!" Sam said happily, walking over to him and Elias. Austen waved and gave a small smile, fighting through his discomfort. Austen shook off the feeling and gave Sam a bigger, more welcoming smile. He felt butterflies in his stomach, the same way he did every time he was with him. Austen loved Sam, he knew that better than the back of his own hand. Elias knew it too, he could see it in Austen's eyes, the way they lit up when Sam was mentioned in conversation, the way he looked at Sam with admiration and longing. Austen was in too deep and Elias thought that anyone who couldn't see that was blind.
"Hi, Sam," Austen squeaked. "Most of the stuff is taken care of, according to Elias, so it's just cleaning that's really left to do."
"Cool!" Sam said, smiling, happy as he always was. It seemed like there was never a sad moment in Sam's life, even though Austen knew better than to believe the mask Sam kept on at every moment. Sam’s "weekly outburst" (as Elias liked to call it) proved different. Still, Sam was a sweetheart.
"Is there just sweeping?" Chloe asked. "Is there anything else that needs to be done, cleaning wise?"
"Sierra and Adrianna could probably use some help wiping down all the tables and computer screens," Austen answered, nodding his head towards the opposite side of the room. "Elias said we could use one more sweeper. Sam, would you like to help us? There's one more broom in the closet."
"Sure," Sam said, heading to grab the last broom.
"We'll go help out Steve with the creative writing section," Max said. "Texted saying that nobody's started on that yet since everyone is focusing on the art gallery and the music and all that jazz."
"Dude," Wade muttered, jabbing Max with his elbow. Max rolled his eyes.
"The pun was intended," Max said, pulling Wade along with him as they made their way to Steve on the other side of the room. Chloe hadn't walked to help Sierra and Adrianna yet and it left Austen wondering if it really was the best idea to confess his feelings to Sam.
Austen began sweeping again, beginning to get lost in his thoughts. Is this the best idea? Should I really tell Sam that I love him? He's... He's got to like Chloe, there's no way he likes me. Even if he really does act like it, he... Austen, stop being so pessimistic! But maybe I do need to be pessimistic, maybe that's the only way to protect myself from an embarrassing rejection...
"Hey, Aus?" Sam called out. "We were thinking of playing charades after we're done with cleaning, you know before the event starts at six. John texted me saying he's gonna order a couple of pizzas and split the money with Steve. He said it's cool if we want some, we don't have to chip in or anything."
"That sounds cool," Austen answered, pushing away the feelings of jealousy and envy. He knew that it was irrational to feel the way he did about Chloe, especially since she was such a fun girl with a good sense of humour, even if her obsession with The Big Bang Theory did get annoying at times, but he still couldn't feel anything but anger and self-hatred when she was in the same room as him and Sam. Austen knew it was dumb, but he still felt that Sam cared more about her than he ever did him, even though Sam had known Austen for far longer. "Are we getting Papa John’s?"
"Yeah, since John works there he gets a discount. Hey, you okay?" Sam asked him, concern lacing his piercing blue eyes. Austen looked up at him, trying his best to mask his emotions and push them away.
"Yeah, sorry," Austen said, laughing quietly. "Just tired."
"Did you sleep well last night?" Sam asked. Austen shook his head.
"Nah," Austen chuckled. "I was too busy hiding under your porch because I love you."
Austen had recognized what he said, and although he tried to mask the realization that was sewn into his face, Sam saw right thr
ough the mask.
"Tell me something new you haven't told before," Sam laughed, hoping to ease the discomfort in Austen's demeanor. Much to Sam's dismay, the comment made Austen much more uncomfortable.
"Sam, I..." Austen trailed off, leaning the broom in his hands alongside the counter, hoping it wouldn't fall. "I need to tell you something."
"Okay," Sam nodded, noticing the seriousness in Austen's voice. He put down his broom as well and stood there, listening intently to what Austen had to say.
"And I just... I need to make sure that... I need you to promise me that you're not going to, like, make fun of me or anything," Austen rambled, stumbling over his words.
"You insult me, A.K.," Sam laughed softly. Austen rolled his eyes at the nickname he hated, but he ignored it for the time being. He felt that now was the time to tell Sam, and there was no backing out of it now. Austen took a deep breath in attempt to calm himself before continuing. "I wouldn’t do that."
"I... I, like, I..." Austen stuttered, unable to say bluntly, like how he had imagined it as it played through his mind for hours and hours before. He imagined this to go much better, much smoother, much easier. But this was not the case, unfortunately.
"It's okay, Aus," Sam said, grabbing Austen's hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs on the backs of them. "Take as much time as you need. Go on."
"I don't want to feel this way," Austen spoke softly, feeling his throat beginning to tighten. He didn't want to cry. He couldn't cry in front of Sam, even if he had done it before, because this time was different. "Because I know, I know, I really know you don't reciprocate, and I just I- I don't want to get hurt, I just, you know, with- with what happened with Zack-"
"Calm down, Austen," Sam said quietly, pulling Austen into a hug. Austen wrapped his arms around Sam quickly, silent tears making their way down the natural blue's cheeks and onto Sam's shoulder. "I know you're scared, and I understand, I remember what happened and… I really hope you know I’d never treat you like that. Never, not even in a million years, no matter what."
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