all credits to @/rosie-writings on tumblr!!
Summary: You had been friends with Sam and Colby since middle school, and it took the success of both of your channels for you to realize that only Sam could satisfy you.
Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Drunken sex (consentual), Sam x Reader smut, Lovelorn Bitter-sweetness all around— I'm not responsible for the fuzzy feels
Words: 5.6k
No Y/N Used
The last time I stepped foot in this club, I was a shaking horrifyingly new green bean to the party space full of established content creators.
Now I couldn't keep up with the amount of greetings and glances that shot my way. I kept a smile pulled at my painted lips even though I shook to my core. My heart raced under my ribs, and I desperately needed a drink in my hands to hide behind. I needed an anchor, I needed a place to stay comfortable and out of the spotlight tonight, I needed someone—to find something—
Maybe it had been months now—years—since I gained my own separate platform and business apart from my best friends, but I still felt dependent on them. I remember Sam and Colby posting these dumb videos back in high school and I roasted their asses for being dipshits on the internet.
I guess it paid off considering the room they gave to me in their new house. My room in their new house was bigger than my downtown apartment.
When they told me they were moving to LA, I remember standing shell shocked with questions. For how long? Why? Will I see them again—And then they asked me to live with them.
How much audacity did two boys have in order to ask the younger girl who followed them around like a lost puppy more often than not to move across the country with them?
They didn't ask without giving me the ultimatum that I had to focus on my own content and actually post a video more often than every six months. I agreed because who wouldn't try it out at least once? I was only nineteen so if it didn't work out, I wouldn't have wasted precious time. This was the time to bulldoze my way through questionable opportunities. Technically we were all kids still; they were 21, nearly 22, and I was told that girls' brains don't turn on until they are 24 and boys' brains don't turn on period.
I just didn't expect for my channel to blow up alongside them. If they hit a milestone, I hit it six months later.
Now I was 24. They were 27. And life was still on an incline.
Everyday I was stunned by the achievements I somehow made. Perhaps authenticity and the exploitment of embarrassing universal experiences were things people my age really did want. I grew up imagining living the perfect life alongside the perfectly polished A list celebrities. I was nowhere near that and somehow, I had it so much better.
The major issue that I collided head on going 120 miles per hour wasn't a massive internet scandal like I expected, but it was the way my stomach flipped when Sam looked at me from across the room.
Call it an overworked brain, call it a lack of sleep, or call it a lovelorn heart that was too afraid of being thrown away; whatever it was, it was out for blood. It made home in the fascia of my body.
God, nothing came of us in our past lives. Not when we found each other between classes in middle school. Not when we skipped school and whispered in the dark alleys of abandoned buildings. Not even when we woke up under the same roof like we always wanted. It was now. Now after the success, after the hard work.
We were stable.
Suddenly I had time. Suddenly I had some leeway where if something blew up in flames, I would be alright.
