Best friend? (Solby/SamxColby fan fic)

Chapter 3

Slight trigger warning: internalised homophobia/religious guilt (literally Colby has said he is loosely Christian so don't come at me lol)

Colby

I couldn't like Sam. 

I wasn't gay.

He's a boy.

I'm a boy.

That doesn't work.

Maybe for others, but not for me. 

I was curled up in my bed, smothering myself in my dark sheets, these thoughts swirling through my head, pulling me under. Like a tide, rising through the cracks in my brain. I was drowning. My throat was closing up.

I laughed. Look at me, sitting in the fetal position, panicking over a damn boy.

And I'm straight! Not to mention religious.

What would my parents think? They'd probably be disgusted. 

I couldn't believe myself. Maybe I was crazy. I was slowly going insane. 

That would at least give me an answer.

I'd get medicated, I'd recover. I'd soon be back to living my normal life. 

If it didn't go away... I don't know what I would do. 

Thoughts flashed across my mind, solutions, problems, loopholes, none of them actually helpful. My breath started accelerating. I dry heaved, sobs racking my body. 

It was like half of me was so overwhelmed with emotion and panic, while the other half stared in disgust, wondering why the fuck I was being so dramatic. But I couldn't help it. My body shuddered as I grabbed my blanket, smothering the sounds escaping my lips, hot tears dribbling down my cheeks. They stung, and my eyes felt hot and heavy. I tried to take deep breaths, I tried to slow my racing thoughts, I tried to stop fucking crying, but the tears would not go away. 

Eventually, I calmed down. But I was still thinking about it, my stomach churning, and my throat tightening with each new image. I had to get out of there, my room suddenly felt suffocating. 

So I got up.

I snuck down my hallway, making sure to tread lightly. I was still trembling, my breath was shaky, not quite taking enough oxygen in, but I kept going. The door, miraculously, decided to be quiet tonight, only making a small grinding noise as I slid it open. I careened out to the side of my house, stumbling over my own feet as I gasped for air, my breath hitching as the cool night breeze hit my lungs. 

If you went to the side of my house, next to my washing line, there was a massive water tank. I had discovered as a child that if I brought a stool to hoist myself up onto it, I could gain access to the roof. No one in my family knew about this but me.

Of course, I didn't need a stool anymore. I wasn't amazingly tall or anything, but the average 15 year old could easily climb this thing. 

I grabbed the edge of the slick grey plastic, digging my feet into the grooves along the side, and hoisting myself up. I quickly scrambled over to the gutter, careful not to step on the flimsy metal, and jumped onto the gritty, cold roof tiles. I walked up to the peak of the house, sitting gently on the ridge.

I looked up at the moon. The stars glittered, swirling around me like a swarm of fireflies, dancing on the evening breeze. My hair ruffled, and I shivered in my singlet and pyjama pants. It wasn't entirely from the cold though. There was something so enchanting about the night. It felt so alive. It was as if the world had arranged a choir, and I was the only one listening, the only one basking in the silver toned glory of the world. 

And I could  forget... everything. 

Sam

I couldn't sleep again.

There was no particular reason, I suspected I had insomnia. I could never sleep these days. I wasn't anxious or anything. That came with the daylight. 

Maybe someone was thinking about me, and that's why I couldn't sleep. Of course, that's only an old wives tale, but wouldn't it be nice?

My feet dangled off the edge of my roof. It was my escape. Ever since I stopped sleeping, my bed started to feel like a prison. There was no particular reason, but my bed made me feel depressed. Maybe the bed was conscious, and sad that it couldn't complete its only job in life, and it was rubbing off on me. Maybe I need to stop thinking these stupid thoughts.

I laughed at myself, sitting here on my roof, by myself, wondering if my bed had feelings. 

But the night was so enchanting, I couldn't go back into my room. 

It was like... like I was asleep, and dreaming. So tranquil, and cohesive. The blue and purple tones created an explosion of pleasure in my mind, the scent of night infiltrating everything, as the moon smiled down,and watched me like a tired mother, proud of her son. The polar opposite to chaos of everyday life. I could sit and be at peace.

And I could forget... everything.

Word count/approx. 823 words Time written/approx. 1 hour