fake it til you make it | greta van fleet

a lover's plight | five

The next morning you and Sam slept in.

You awoke to the smell of breakfast foods, and the sounds of pots and pans clattering in the kitchen as the family moved about to prepare their spread. Breakfast usually was a fend for yourself sort of event in the Kiszka household, but considering all of the children were leaving that evening, it seemed they had all agreed to put something together. It made you smile, happy to have one last sit down with everyone now that you were no longer harboring a killer secret.

Sam's entire body was sprawled across your own. He was snoring slightly, his lips mere centimeters away from your ear and each little whistle that escaped them caused your hair to tickle your neck. Neither one of you had gotten dressed again after your escapades, though you had cleaned up some.

He'd gotten out of bed once he'd finally regained sensation in his lower limbs, stumbling slightly on trembling knees and making you laugh. "Shh," he'd hushed, waving his hand wildly, "I'm trying to hear if anybody is still awake."

You had bitten your cheeks to keep from laughing harder, watching on as he pressed his ear to the door before thinking again and cracking it open just slightly. He'd listened for a long few seconds, pressing his ear right up to the crack before he finally had shrugged, "Guess not."

Satisfied with what he'd heard, or hadn't heard rather, Sam had scooped his boxers up off the floor and merely held them over his crotch as he raced across the hallway to the bathroom and quickly shut himself inside. You'd scoffed as he had left the bedroom door wide open, exposing you to anyone who should come to investigate his sudden sprint out of the room, but nobody had. Not a sound could be heard through the house, except the faint noise of the sink running in the bathroom.

He'd come back with a wet rag, still only using his boxers as a shield which he dropped carelessly the moment that he had shut the bedroom door behind him. You had let him clean you up with a fullness in your chest that you hadn't even realized had been missing, your eyes welling with tears of relief. Everything was going to be okay. It was going to take time to feel completely secure again, but for the moment you were content to just be with him.

Sam's body twitching brought you out of your reverie, and you blinked your eyes back into focus just as he lifted his face from your chest with a groan. "What time is it?" he grumbled, and you had to giggle at the mess of hair that hung into his face, "I don't want to get up."

Your eyes squinted at your phone as you fumbled to bring it before your face, feeling a bit surprised as you stated, "It's after eleven–which means if we don't get up, Josh is probably going to come barging in any second."

He groaned again, rolling off of you and collapsing onto his back with a huff. "Can we just sneak out the back door and go home now?" he whined, "I just wanna be with you."

The plea made you grin, your heart skipping a beat at his lovesick confession. You'd missed hearing him say things like that, and you were eager to hear more. Sam was definitely the type to freely offer up words of affirmation, constantly showering you with little compliments and reminding you how much he loved you at every chance he had.

If you were honest, you were half tempted to say yes and run out that back door with him. There was nothing you wanted more than to go home, and get all his stuff and put it back where it was meant to be–with your own. Also, a little part of you was curious to see where he'd been staying since he left. He clearly hadn't been with any of his family, or Danny, so you were hypothesizing the possibility of him hoarding his stuff in hotel rooms.

It would never work, though. For one thing, his family would be pissed. But, more importantly, his key was still somewhere under the bed and you were not about to crawl under there and look for it. Even if calling it his key again, and knowing it truly was, made you smile... you were not getting under Sam's childhood bed. Who was to say what kind of horrors were lurking down in the depths.