A Collection of One-Shots [Requests Open]

Alcohol-Induced Confessions [Sam Bettley] for DeathCollector

I don't know if you read the previous one shot that I did, but my Internet crapped out, so I couldn't post these. But here I am now. I AM SOOOOO SORRY. But I really hope that you like this.

~Grace

~*~*~*~

"You look beautiful, Keygan," he'd said. My heart had started beating a million miles a minutes and for a second I thought he was going to kiss me. But he hadn't. He'd just smiled that beautiful smile of his and walked away.

Now I sat here thinking about the events that just transpired a mere thirty minutes before.

I'd walked down that fucking staircase of the reception hall, and I swear to God he'd stopped what he was doing and just stared at me, like in the fucking movies. I swear I saw the girl he was just talking to try and regain his attention, but he'd just shrugged her off and walked over to me. I know I wasn't seeing things.

And I thought he'd saw me, in that moment, as more than just . . . one of the guys. I thought he'd seen me as the girl Keygan who was there for him through all the bullshit with his various ex-girlfriends. I thought he'd seen me as the girl Keygan, who'd jumped at the opportunity to be with him on tour as his band's merch girl, just to be closer to him, although it meant giving up her band. I thought he'd seen me as a beautiful woman who'd loved him the moment she'd laid eyes on him nearly fourteen years before.

But, evidently, I was wrong. Because he'd sprinted away from me almost as soon as the compliment left his mouth. Apparently Sam Bettley would never see me as more than his friend Keygan, the girl who was more like a guy, with some black-rimmed glasses and the biggest crush on him.

~*~*~*~

I sat at he bar and nursed my mojito, glancing every so often at the bartender, who looked to be around my age and was actually quite attractive. I wondered whether or not he would go for me. At this point I was a little more than tipsy, as this particular drink was my fifth one.

I felt a presence next to me and looked over. Ben sat there on the stool, staring at me. His expression was emotionless. He was just staring.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asked suddenly, finally. It was starting to get really awkward, him just staring at me like that.

I snorted and lifted the glass to my lips yet again. "Feeling sorry for myself."

"And why's that?" His eyes were unyielding as I gazed into them.

"Because, Mr. Bruce, I'm in love with someone who'll never, in a million, bazillion years, love me back." I nodded, as if accepting this as a plausible answer, and tipped the glass back one final time.

"So Wanker Sam still doesn't see what he's missing, does he?"

"Nope," I reply, popping the 'p'. "But I guess that's okay. I mean, sure it sucks because I've been there for him and loved him for a ton of years and he still only thinks of me as a friend, has only ever thought of me as a friend, but at least he is my friend, ya know? At least I got to love him. What the fuck is that saying? 'It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all' or some shit like that. And while it blows, the saying's true."

Ben sat there, still staring at me and nodding, absorbing my words. "Ya know, you're a really wise drunk. That was some deep shit right there."

I shrugged. My mind was beyond fuzzy at that point, and I couldn't remember half of what I just said.

~*~*~*~

The night got worse as it progressed. After my eighth drink the good-looking bartender cut my supply off. He'd said he didn't want to see a "beautiful girl such as yourself to do something stupid".

I merely laughed and said, "What's stupider than falling for your best friend" and proceeded to have Cameron get me more drinks.

"You, Liddell, are tHE BEST FUCKING FRIEND IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE. At least you didn't break my heart like sOME OTHER DICKFACE THAT I KNOW." That was when he brought me my eleventh drink of the night. After that, he'd refused to buy me more.

I found myself in need of a drink-getter. But all the guys, minus Sam of course, had been at the table and had refused as well. And as Sam was the only other person at this stupid reception that I knew, I decided that he was to be the one to get me more alcohol, even though I hated him at the moment.

So, there I was, searching for Sam in the massive room, drunk off my ass, but dark red hair spilling out of its elegant bun and making me look trashy.

Suddenly, there were hands upon me. I protested as the person dragged me out of the large room and toward the hallway that held the bathrooms. I tried to twist around to at least see who the person dragging me off was, but I couldn't get a good look.

"No, wait, I'm searching for a friend. Maybe you know him? His name's Sam. He's a big bag if dicks, if that helps. And--oh, hey, Sammy!"

I couldn't help but grin at him. In my drink-hazed mind, Sam looked even more attractive and, because alcohol lowers your inhibitions, I had to comment on this.

"Sam, you are so beautiful right now. I mean, not like usual. You look extra nice-looking today. Did you know that? Of course you knew that. You're like a fucking mind-reader or some shit. Oh, my God! Does that mean that you know that I love you? Of course it does. Ah, well. It wasn't that good of a secret. All the other guys knew. Did you know that you're really attractive right now?"

That was when the drinks took over my system and I passed out in an alcohol-induced sleep.

~*~*~*~

I woke up the next morning, a splitting headache already forming, and the lights in the room were not helping.

I sat up it the bed slowly and glanced around the room. I noticed that it was Sam's and I groaned as the memories of the previous night took over my brain.

I would've killed for an aspirin, had it not been for my glance at the side table next to me. I noticed two white pills and a large glass of water, a scrap of paper next to the items.

Quickly, I downed the pills and water and unfolded the note. I instantly recognized the messy scrawl. It read:

Keygan,

Ran out to get some more coffee. I figure, all the times you've helped me, why shouldn't I return the favour?

Sam.

"It's true, ya know."

The voice of my best friend startled me and I spun too fast and waves of nausea courses through me.

"Whoa, easy there," his voice was soft and soothing as he held me by the waist and set me down carefully on the bed.

"I really messed up, Keygan," he said suddenly.

"How's that?" I asked softly, my head pounding and still feeling nauseous.

"There's this girl, and she's been my best friend for a long time, and I've never told her how I really feel because I was worried she didn't like me back, and now, she's suffering because she felt bad because she thought I didn't like her and--"

I press my lips against Sam's in a small, chaste kiss and pull him down on the bed with me. I cuddle into his chest.

"I get it, you love me, too. Now don't talk. My head hurts, you dickface