𝕊𝕒𝕕 𝕤𝕠𝕝𝕓𝕪 𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤 ♡

I wish we had more time

"You're okay," colby liked to say a lot. Sam doesn't know when the habit started, but it must have been born sometime after they first met.

He had this way of saying it too—mouth all soft, his eyes an image of sincerity no matter the situation–but it's the wording that Sam was hung up on.

You're okay, not it's okay.

"You're okay," colby would tell him, firm yet gentle, his hand a warm weight over Sam's slumped shoulder. He couldn't explain it; there was just something about it. Sam could be on his knees, body heavier than stone and his vision spotted with black, but all he'd need is to look into those ocean eyes, hear those words, and he'd believe.

He's okay. Colby would make it so.

"You're okay," he said with soft eyes and a tender voice when Sam came home one night with tears in his eyes. His frustration evident as he cried into his best friends chest about a fight he had gotten into with Katrina.

"You're okay," he said, catching Sam around the waist with a startled laugh when Sam almost slipped from the abandoned building they were exploring together. Sam didn't understand why his heart wouldn't quiet down after that.

"You're okay," he said, the moment Sam opened his eyes to the bright lights and pale walls of a hospital room, his back broken from a stupid stunt he tried to pull off hours earlier. His left arm being tucked under the blankets with soreness. his other hand was free for colby to clasp in both of his. His words lulling Sam back to peaceful sleep

"You're okay," he said months later when Sam had fumbled and stuttered, choking on his feelings as he explained his break up with Katrina to him. Sam had been wanting, aching, too terrified to reach out, but it was stupid because Colby always met him halfway, didn't he?

"You're okay," he said, his voice soft through the phone but sincere as always after Sam had told him of a failed video attempt with the squad. Explaining how all there flashlight died and he thought they would be lost forever with the way everyone was panicking. Colby smiled and reassured Sam he would never be lost truly, not when he was always there to find him.

"You're okay," he said, when Sams plan to quietly slip into bed after escaping his loud roommates was foiled by a loud banging on his door. He groaned tiredly before opening up, Colby smiling apologetically as Corey pulled him back down stairs. Saying "it's not a true trap boy hang out without you Sammy boy!" Excitement clearly in his voice as Sam rolled his eyes tiredly at his friends.

He's okay, Sam knew. Colby made it so.

Now those lips are curved into a shaky smile, quivering as he says it again. "You're okay," he tells Sam, and there are tears of sorrow in his eyes and concrete dust in his hair.

His hand settles on Sam's cheek, cold breath ghosting over the slick warm blood being smeared from his attempt at comforting him. There's more of it smeared on his face in the shape of dragging fingers, more seeping into his clothes as it gushed out with vigor. But Sam knows the worst of it is his stomach . He'd been pressing his hands against it when Sam found him, fell to his knees beside him.

Sams mind races to find ways to help, to fix this, but his chest feels like a vacuum and—

"Sam, breathe," Colby tells him. "You're okay."

—and sams never hated those words as much as he does at this moment.

"Shut up," he says, draws in a breath, and then screams it for good measure, "Shut up!"

This can't be happening. There's so much fucking blood. His best friend, his partner, his everything, is—he's—and it's—

Colby lifts his other hand to sams face, pulling him down closer to where he's lying half-propped up on a pile of rubble. He had fallen several story's from an abandoned building him and Sam were exploring. His fall being caught by a metal rod protruding from the concrete below. The rod spearing straight through his back and up his stomach.