For Research Purposes | ✔

CHAPTER TWENTY

     The unfortunate truth of Sam's reality is that he can only exist in the present moment. He can't go back in time and even if he could, he's not sure where he would go and what he would do when he got there. Would he go back twelve hours, when he had his mouth on Sage's neck and his hand on his dick.

     Would he look at the portraits of himself and say, "I love them, Sage."

     Would he look at the portraits of himself and say, "I love you, Sage."

     Or maybe he'd go back only ten minutes further, before he'd reached into Sage's pocket and taken out his keys. Maybe he'd have said, "I need to shower first." And maybe Sage would've said, "I'll join you." And they'd have ended up in Sam's apartment, under a stream of water and the illusion that their feelings for each other weren't what they are.

     He could go back even further. Three years and five months ago. Maybe he would have stood next to a pretty girl in that seminar instead. He would've noticed her beauty, but it wouldn't have meant anything — he wouldn't have done anything. Would the tether never have formed at all or would it have just been delayed, waited till the beginning of classes when they found themselves fighting for the same seats and the same attention from their professors.

     What Sam wants to know is the inevitable ever evitable. Is there a version of Sam out there that isn't in love with Sage? And if there isn't, is there at least a Sam who isn't afraid and hasn't fucked it all up?

     He wants to know if love is a stoppable force.

     Sam's no stranger to lack of sleep so it's a surprise when he barely has the energy to shower and get ready for class. The bags under his eyes are bagging and he hasn't been able to stomach any food all night. He's churning acid, kind of wishes it'd back flow up his throat and choke him. He doesn't even want to die, he just wants to not be Sam for a little while. To not be the guy who loves something and is so afraid of destroying it that he destroys it.

     When he steps into the hallway, it's only right and holy that Sage is leaving, too. Sam deliberately looks at him, trying to gauge just how badly he fucked up yesterday but Sage doesn't spare him the slightest look, not even a withering glance, he just turns and walks down the hallway, business as usual. The elevator opens when he hits the button and he steps in, turning around, finally at Sam who hasn't moved from in front of his door. Sage reaches an arm out and—

     Holds the elevator for him.

     Holds the god damn elevator.

     Sam very nearly keels over, absolutely gutted. This is bad. Worse than bad. Because all of that cruelty between them had been an expression of something else, something bigger. If Sage had closed that door on him, there might've still been a chance. Fighting with Sam often felt like Sage was fighting for Sam. But this was resignation. This was the end. Not enemies, not friends, not lovers, just neighbors, classmates, soon to be forgotten. 

     Sam doesn't want to get in that elevator with him but he has no choice. He sucks in his breath and closes the distance between them, stepping in beside Sage. He stares at the side of his face, willing Sage to look at him. To acknowledge his presence at all but Sage doesn't budge. He has hickies all over his neck. Hickies Sam put there. And you know what, no, this can't be the end. He can't not ever do that again. He made a mistake. It was a hiccup. It didn't mean anything. He has to fix this. He already misses Sage and he's standing right here.

     "About yesterday," Sam starts, his voice trembling. He didn't script this, has no idea how to even explain himself. "We can just. Forget, I guess, I saw it. Saw anything. We could just forget it."