lovesong (sam kiszka x reader)

1

"home sweet home." my dad said as we approached a huge overarching sign. it read "wilkommen" in big red letters, with "frankenmuth" under it in blue letters.

"did we really have to go all out on the whole us being german thing? we could have moved to detroit or grand rapids or anything but this." i said, staring at the sign through the back window.

"listen, kiddo, it's a fresh start. let's try to be positive, huh? new job, new school next year, it'll be a blast." he smiled, so i smiled back. i was apprehensive about the whole small town thing, but we thought it would be best to get away from seattle after my mom passed. i was looking forward to actually having some friends. seattle wasn't exactly the kindest to me. he finally got a job as a retail manager at a car dealership out of town. not too exciting, but an excuse to leave the city nonetheless. he decided to wait until the week before i got out of school to move.

after a few minutes of driving in silence through the town other than layla by dominic and the dominos playing, we pulled into the driveway of a white two-story house, with a huge oak tree in the front yard.

"this is really all ours?" i asked. my dad nodded, opening the door of the car and stepping out.

i put my earbuds in and took off my shoes at the door. the walls were a nice shade of light green, the floors an ashy wood color. stevie nicks sang in my ears as i opened the door to my room. i squinted from the bright eggshell white on the walls. i stood in the doorway, thinking of all the places to hang my posers and move my furniture when a truck honked outside.

my stuff. finally.

i nearly wiped out coming down the stairs but i jumped down the front steps to open the truck door. "here's your workout, kid," my dad laughed, handing me a box with my name on it. i ran it upstairs, nearly tossed it on the floor, and shuffled back down the steps. this time, someone new was standing at the truck.

"oh, y/n, this is one of our new neighbors! she's here to help us out a little." my dad smiled.

"hey, im ronnie kiszka. i live two houses down. you'll be a senior this year, right?" i nodded, almost alarmed at how friendly she was. i was still used to city people. " my mom told my brothers and i that you were moving into town. so you're the same age as sammy, then. he'll probably come out in a little bit."

right at that moment, a boy joined her. he was tall and skinny, with dark brown hair that came a little past his shoulders and sharp facial features. his shirt was almost unbuttoned and he wore jeans that were cuffed.

exactly my type. fuck.

"hey, i'm sam. nice to meet you." he held out his hand. i took it firmly.

"y/n l/n. it's a pleasure." his fingers were calloused.

"jesus, you have drummer's hands. that was one of the firmest handshakes i've ever felt."

"welp, somewhere in that truck is my set. everyone in my apartment complex in seattle fucking hated me. you have bass hands, i can feel those callouses." i shot back, trying to match his wit.

he nodded and laughed. "a girl drummer. that's probably the coolest thing ive ever heard." he grinned, still holding my hand.

"come on, lovebirds, we don't have all day." ronnie shouted from deep inside the truck. we both turned to the truck, looking at the sea of boxes. he and i grabbed more boxes with "y/n" scrawled on them in my terrible handwriting.

he put the box down he was holding, out of breath. "do you have bricks in there?" he asked.

"close." i cut open the tape with my house keys to show half of my vinyl records in the box, and opened the one i was holding to show the rest of them.

"shut up." he said quietly.

"i didn't say-"

"you are the best person i have ever met in my entire life. where have you been?" he cried, kneeling down and flipping through the boxes. i stood in disbelief as he picked up albums and looked at the back, spewing facts about them. he stood up as he finished going through the boxes, running his fingers through his hair. "are you busy tomorrow?"

"probably not. i haven't met anyone from town but you and your sister, so i'm not going on any hot dates or anything."

"i'll help you decorate your room as long as i can bring over some of my vinyls. we have a lot of stuff in common music-wise."

"i-sure. why not?"

he grinned. "i've been dying to meet new people like me. all there is in this town is homophobic hillbillies and the worst girls imaginable. the only people i really talk to are this kid danny in our grade, you'd like him, and my brothers and sister."

"its really that bad here?" i asked.

"its not bad, its just small. i've known the same 3,000 people my entire life. you seem friendly enough though, you'll probably make friends."

"on the contrary. i'm shocked i'm even talking to you. seattle kind of made me grow my own personal bubble."

"well, pop it." he smiled and turned around, bare feet hitting the hardwood softly.

i followed him to the truck, and for the next two hours, we moved boxes and furniture until finally, everything was inside. after getting my bed frame (miraculously) through the door, we collapsed onto the floor, sweaty and sore.

"good god, i never noticed how much was in that apartment until i had to unload it all." i sighed. he just laid next to me, breathing heavily. after a few minutes, i spoke up.

"is there anywhere cheap to eat in town?"

"no, its all crappy german food. i have food at my house, if you'd like to be subjected to that horror."

"sure. im so fucking hungry i don't even care what i have to do for it."

he stood up and held out his hand, his arms flexing as he pulled me up off the ground. "then let's go." he grinned, his arm still wound unto mine.