If you want to get out alive...

Chapter 13

C͞͞h͞͞a͞͞p͞͞t͞͞e͞͞r͞͞ 13

"You ready to get outta here?"
The words are accompanied with a clap as Wes walks into the room. It was 12:32 in the afternoon, and it was around this time in which the other boy would stop by the hospital; visit for as long as he could. He had a part time job working as a cashier for an old gas station, and in addition, attended his senior year of high school five days out of the week. It was something Sam found would be interesting if he ever had the chance to enroll, however when he had asked about it, Wes had merely claimed that Christmas break was coming up soon, and it would be pointless as of right now.
"What about Halloween break?" Sam had asked at the time, and Wes merely laughed, the kind of laugh that made his shoulders shake and his head tilt back.

Now, Sam was laughing, though it was nervous and unsure, unlike the joyful one that belonged to Wes. He's been tricked far too many times by far too many different things the past few days.
"Really—?" he asks.
Wes nods, making his way over to the others bedside. "Yeah," he encourages. "Get your lazy ass outta bed, Sam. Doctors said you could go home today."
Sam huffs, rolling his eyes. "They didn't say that," he scoffs quietly, gaze averting to the side where a dull shadow flickered. He wasn't surprised by this one.

"Don't tell me you wanna stay here now," Wes groans, "c'mon. I got the truck runnin, your cousin – the one and only – signed the papers to check you out — you're a free man, Sammy."
Sam narrows his eyes. It was almost too good to be true. "I thought..." wait — why was he arguing this? He shouldn't have to search for a reason not to leave. If Wes said he could go, then hell if he wasn't scrambling to his feet by now.
"They shoulda talked to you last night about it," Wes adds. "They did, didn't they?"
Maybe.
He wasn't sure.
The past few nights, Sam has been doing all he could to forget anything and everything that happens after each of Wes's absences.

"I guess," he mumbles, staring now at his palms. He looks up, lips quirking with the first genuine smile he's managed to offer in a while. "Let's go."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⚜⠀⠀⠀ ⚜⠀⠀⠀ ⚜⠀⠀⠀ ⚜

Salty, buttery popcorn, was an impressive change compared to the questionable food given to him at the hospital. In fact, with so many stale meals eaten over the past few days, he's some how managed to forget just how ... happy the fluffy corn tasted.

Music notes overtake the quality of smoke, drifting leisurely and lazy into the air for Sam to hear. Wes hums the same tune of the song played last time, as if the guitar strings encouraged him to pick up where leaving off. Not that Sam minded this, though, and he couldn't help the grin tugging upon the corner of pink lips.
This, here, just this – it was enough of an 'I'll make it up to you,' sort of gift in the first place, and honestly, in Sam's opinion, the other boy had no reason to do much more, let alone take him on a trip. Camping, or whatever.
He voices this.

"Does roasting marshmallows really not sound like a fun thing?" Wes returns, and his voice lilts at the end of his sentence playfully, the same tone as his music. Oh this has gotta be the good life.
Sam worries upon the soft lower inside of his lip, tongue graced with the nice surprise of strong salt. "I don't know. I've never had marshmallows."
Wes grunts, the sound amused as he shakes his head. The thin blue of his irises focus, glued to the rough cords of his instrument. "Dude, it's a good thing I'm here."
Sam snorts, but he knows it's true; he'd be roadkill if it weren't for the other boy.

"Still," he mumbles, "won't it be snowing anyway? It ... I think it gets colder every day. If I remember ... Winter does that, right?"
"Mm," Wes hums, glancing up quick while a small smirk plays with his expression. His next words are sung in replace of the line to my friends in New York, they say hello. "That'll make it even better ~ we can bring hot-chocolate."
Sam barks a laugh as Wes rushes to bring 'hot chocolate' into the tune and make it fit, another bite of popcorn following the action. "I guess," he suffices. "Warm chocolate sounds good." He nods once, tossing the little snack at the other boy. He misses in the slightest though, and it topples clumsily to the bed next to Wes's hip.