"I have a game tonight." Sam said, shocking me. Not only did he scare the shit out of me with the suddenness, but he also confused me with that sentence.

How the hell did he have a game if he never once seemed to practice all week? I leaned against my locker, raising a brow in an attempt to coerce him into explaining.

"We've recently started having practice before school starts, because it's more convenient for the coach." He explained, as though reading my thoughts.

I nodded, glancing down the halls again to make sure that we were still alone. People would lose it if they saw Sam and I having a civil conversation. Especially one about our whereabouts tonight.

"So what does that mean for me?" I asked, trying to understand what I was expected to do.

A pretty smile lit up his face. "I think you should come."

I blinked. I didn't think that I ever told him about my extreme disinterest towards the sport. I was pretty sure that I hated it so much because dad loved it. It was hard to enjoy something that I was constantly being pressured into joining.

"And if I don't?" I smirked, titling my head.

He laughed a bit. "Oh, come on! It would just overall be better. You'd be in a public setting, so there wouldn't be the threat of any possible confrontation. Then there's also the fact that you'd be helping me out."

"Enlighten me as to how I'd be helping you out at all."

"Well," Sam began, ready to start counting his reasons on his fingertips. "My newfound good luck charm would be there-"

"You're forgetting all of the time in which my presence did no good."

"-and I'd be able to look at you whenever I felt like it-"

"Sounds like a distraction to me."

"-and I wouldn't have to worry about whether you were safe or not." He finally finished, triumphantly holding up his three fingers.

I sighed, knowing that it was a fairly good reason. I didn't know if he'd play horribly simply because he was too concerned about my wellbeing, but I would certainly feel guilty if it ended up happening. Though would I distract him more by being there?

I spent a moment studying his face. The bruises were fading at a fortunately quick pace, and seemed to have been healing properly, because he hadn't gotten a renewal in about four days. He was wearing the red rose embroidered sweatshirt again, which I had always liked, whether or not I would admit it. His hair was curly and as messily styled as it always was.

God, those hazel eyes were as beautiful and as vibrant as ever.

I sounded so fucking gay.

We hadn't talked yet today, but knowing that he wasn't pissed off at me was a huge relief. Millie and I seemed to be in a good place too after we talked last night, which was also a great thing. I would tell myself that things might turn out alright, but that would be unpredictable bullshit. Instead, I settled for the small breather.

"If I say yes, what do I get out of it?" I asked.

Sam held a knowing look on his face, before winking suggestively. "Anything you want, Sugar."

I chocked on air, practically dying. "Why are you so fucking gross?"

He laughed, nearly doubling over at my reluctance. "You know that I'm just fucking around. Although, I should definitely start calling you sugar more now that I know how you react."

"You should definitely not do that." I rolled my eyes.

"Well, Sawyer, Sugar it is."

I huffed in defeat. Sam was in an oddly good mood after what occurred last night. I wondered if it was some sort of pregame adrenaline, but regardless, I was not about to complain. I decided that that side of Sam was my favorite one.

"I'll go, what time is it?" I gave in.

"About seven-thirty." Sam smiled. "And don't worry, you can come to my house until the game. Unless you have a better idea."

"Well, it'd be weird if I went to the game by myself, wouldn't it be?" I shuddered at the awkwardness that would ensue. "I know that Millie loves going to your guys' games. She's always trying to convince me to come with her."

A disappointed yet happy look conquered his face. "Even though I'd really like to tease you more before the game, I get it. So you'll just go home with Millie and then you'll show up to the game?"

I nodded. I would still have to make sure that Millie was cool with that, but I could pretty much guarantee that she would be. She had been begging me to hang out all week.

"Oh." Sam suddenly said, his face falling. "I just remembered why you weren't even allowed to go to Millie's in the first place."

I furrowed my brow, taking a moment to process his words. When I did, I frowned. I hadn't been going to Millie's because we didn't want those creeps to notice us and drag her into this as well. Why was life such a pest?

"It seems that you'll be coming home with me after all." His voice was lighthearted, but I could tell that he knew how sad it made me.

I nodded anyway, pretending that I wasn't very bothered. "Yeah, you're right. I'll just ask Millie if she'll meet me at the game."

Thankfully, Sam understood that I was trying to be optimistic. "Don't worry, everything will be alright. I'm sure she'll just be glad to go to the game with you."

I nodded, before the sound of footsteps began to get louder. I panicked, pushing off of the locker and trying to figure out what Sam was going to do.

He started down the opposite side of the corridor as fast as he could without being to loud, and I pretended to be opening my locker.

Some guy rounded the corner just as my locker clicked open and Sam was disappearing out of view. Keeping our whatever-you-call-it a secret would prove to be a challenge.

•O•O•

"Have I ever mentioned that you piss me off?" I frowned as I sat in the passenger's seat.

"Well actually, I don't think that you have since Monday." Sam pointed out.

"Well, I'm making up for lost time right now." I said, putting my seatbelt on and crossing my arms over my chest.

Sam sighed heavily, seemingly dumping the traces of sarcasm. "You can't possibly be that mad at me."

Oh, but I was.

You see, during science as I was trying to tell Millie that we should go to the game, Dennis thought that it would be a nice idea to come up and start flirting with her again. I, being the father that I was, politely told him to fuck off.

Obviously, that pissed him off, so he told me to fuck off in return. I started arguing with him, telling him that he couldn't flirt with my best friend unless he was willing to get his dick ripped off. Millie was simply too precious to be tainted by someone so impure.

That was when Sam sauntered over with a wide grin on his face. Dennis asked him if I had control over Millie, and instead of simply agreeing with me like he should have, he said that the whole thing was funny, before shoving Dennis. In an effort to save himself, he grabbed onto the table, knocking over Millie's open bottle of Powerade onto me.

And yes, I was blaming Sam for it.

Why did he shove Dennis? Because it was meant to be what the bros do, and since Dennis was standing with most of his weight on one leg, it ended up causing him to sway just enough to screw up my entire day.

The worst part was the aftermath. Dennis cackled for about twenty minutes straight, while Sam seemed to battle with himself. I knew that I shouldn't be mad, because we weren't supposed to be friends - or even decent human beings - to each other in public, but I would rather him at least try to help.

So much for the overall good mood.

The only good part was the fact that I needed a new shirt. Who's shirt did I steal? Sam's soft, big, and beautifully smelling red rose embroidered sweatshirt.

Of course it was risky business, but there was more reason to it than Sam giving it to me because we liked each other. The teacher saw the second half of it, and scolded Sam for not being more careful. He was told to apologize and help me find something else to wear, given the fact that my other shirt would forever be stained red.

So he took off his sweatshirt, revealing a black T-shirt, and handed it right over.

Did I mention that it smelt good?

"Well, you should have been more careful." I murmured, taking the opportunity to slouch inside of the hoodie. It felt so oddly nice.

"I know." He agreed. "I feel really guilty, and I'm so, so sorry."

When I glanced over to see his eyes focused on the road and his tooth yet again ripping into his bottom lip, I sighed heavily. There was no possible way that I could ever stay mad at him for too long. "It's alright, I'm just a dramatic bitch."

He scrunched his nose only briefly. "Are you sure you're not mad? I totally ruined your shirt."

I offered a soft smile. "It's cool, I got that shirt for really cheap anyways. And besides-" I tugged on the bottom of the hoodie, "-this one is a hell of a lot better."

"Ooh, so you like that one?" He teased.

"If we're being honest? Yes, I very much like this hoodie."

"Well, then feel free to wear it as you please." He grinned, a newfound happiness filling the air.

I raised a dark brow. "Don't you want to wear it?"

Sam shrugged. "I think it arguably looks way better on you."

"Debatable." I replied, despite the fact that my face felt a little bit hotter than usual. "But I'll still take the compliment."

"You have to wear it to my game as well." Sam decided, pulling the car into his driveway and unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Won't people notice?" I asked.

"Nah. You're sitting in primarily darkness, and there will be tons of other people there. I think you'll be fine, and if Millie asks, just tell her that you hadn't gotten a chance to change yet."

I hoped that he was right.

We both exited the car and entered the house, him lazily tossing both of his bags to the floor and instead of stopping at the couches like we usually did, he kept on walking.

"Where are we going?" I inquired, getting even more curious as we reached the bottom of a staircase.

Sam didn't say anything, instead just leading me further. We went up the stairs and down a hall, before he finally stopped in front of a door.

I knew exactly what it was used for.

It was Sam's room.

He bit his lip before opening the door and ushering me inside, which would have been a seemingly suggestive gesture if I hadn't known that he was always biting his lip.

The first thing I noticed was how clean it was. There were a few items scattered around, but I saw right through him. He had cleaned his room and then attempted to make it seem like he hadn't. It was just like how he did his hair.

The walls were such a pale shade of blue that they were nearly white. His bed were carefully made grey sheets, and his closet was shut tight. I couldn't help but sense the irony in that fact.

There were all sorts of things on his walls. Posters, pictures, drawings, papers, and who knew what else. It was a snowstorm of hapless thoughts, maybe even sprinkled with the hopeful glimmer of stars. It was hard to tell from an outsider perspective. What stood at the utmost center, was a phrase painted on the wall behind his bed:

Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.

I must have reread the words a thousand times before it occurred to me that Sam had been watching me that whole time. What did everything say about him? What kind of a person was Sam? The version of him that I had yet to fully understand? I wondered if he was ever the one to say farewell when the road darkened.

If that was true, he was certainly not that person anymore. He seemed to be the most brave person I knew.

"So..." Sam finally spoke up, clearly trying to read me.

I opened my mouth, but didn't know what exactly I was supposed to say. Instead of speaking, I walked over to the wall and brushed my fingertips gently over the painted letters.

"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens." I read it again, but this time aloud. "Did you paint it yourself?" The brush strokes were rigid and uneven, as though every bit as distraught as the rest of the pages filling up the wall space.

A small smile played on his lips. "It's a quote from J. R. R. Tolkien, Gimli says it to Elrond. Fun fact, I'm a major Middle Earth nerd. It's my favorite quote of all time."

I nodded a bit, my mind too busy trying to process all of the hidden parts of Sam to pay full attention to his words. I had seen the movies and such, but hadn't read the books. I just never really gave them a chance.

"I'll be right back, I need to use the bathroom." Sam said after another pause. He entered a blank door inside of his room. While he was away, I took the time to fully study his room.

When my eyes passed over the large words again, I noticed one of the papers, this one taped low and nearest to the side of his bed. It read:

Maybe, but let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.

It seemed that Sam was far more complex than I once thought.

•O•O•