Mixtapes & Polaroids | Sam x Deena

46

"I come bearing gifts!" Simon barges in, a bottle of cheap vodka in one hand and his witch hat in the other.

With an already painted face, the cheerful boy keeps his head high despite having had a rough morning. A morning involving trying not to cry in the shower as he pretends not to hear his grandmother screaming at his brother to get him out of the house. Simon keeps the smile on his face because he thinks it might be the only thing that can save him. That maybe if it stays on long enough, it'd turn real like an etching into his skin that seeps into his blood.

He needs it to be real.

He needs to have a good night, he needs his friends to have a good night because it was the only thing that didn't make him feel like a failure. So he prances inside Deena's house with his bottle, trailed by Kate who was already in her cheer outfit with nerves of her own tumbling in her chest. That single December night held so much for all of them, some just didn't know it yet.

"We don't want your toilet water, Simon." Deena mumbles from the couch, her band uniform already on with her hat on her lap and Sam by her side.

Sam has been making more of an effort to be by Deena's side since that fateful night. She's squeezed out every excuse in the book just trying to claw for those extra minutes and she won't say it out loud, but Deena knows it's her way of trying to help. Sam's always over, spending time with her and Josh, making her play board games and even baking some holiday cookies.

She's even filled up a little drawer of her own clothes in Deena's room, though, Deena thinks it's a bit useless because Sam always steals her clothes anyway. But Sam just likes the thought of leaving pieces of herself behind, it feels almost like a promise that she was there to stay. That she'd always be back, and Deena appreciated that too.

"Okay, rude. First of all... you are all ungrateful. More for me, then." Simon hugs the bottle to his chest, painted face falling to a playful scowl as he plops down onto the armchair and Kate takes the spot right next to Sam on the couch.

"I'm not drinking tonight, guys." Deena announces rather timidly, and Sam makes sure to sit close enough for their thighs to be pressed.

"Just make sure to— wait what? You're not?" Kate backtracks, leaning forward to peer at Deena with a bewildered look.

"Nope." Deena shakes her head.

"But it's... the last game of the year. You love getting shitfaced on the last game of the year." Kate recalls with dripping confusion, slumping back with a hum as Simon chimes in.

"Yeah, Deena. We always do it together. You're bailing on tradition? You're... leaving me?" He exaggerates, a hand on his heart as Sam quickly cuts in to try and ease the pressure on her girlfriend.

She knows they mean well, the only problem was that Deena hasn't said a word to anyone. Not even her. Sam was almost sure if she hadn't pushed to go that night then Deena would have kept it to herself and suffered in silence, silence filled with devastating shame and confusion of a past she couldn't rewrite.

"She's not feeling well. I'll take her share if it makes you feel better." Sam offers with a small smile, watching as Simon starts to beam.

"Absolutely not! I've seen you drunk, we cannot have drunk Sam on the field tonight." Kate quickly interjects, shaking her head as Sam crosses her arms over her chest.

"I'm not that bad!" Sam protests, but Kate merely deadpans her way and everyone— even Deena, snickers a little.

Sam was definitely, that bad.

"You climbed a tree!"

"That was one time, Kate!"

"One too many!"