Home(Sam Woolf Fanfiction)

Authors Note: Some of you may have read Write For Me in my Sam Woolf Imagines book, and I have decided to make a fanfiction out of it. My Sam Woolf twitter is @WoolfLovin and I livetweet American Idol and fangirl and yeah. This chapter is mainly a little bit of the past, getting info out there! Let's jump into this thing--

Without further ado...
Home: a Sam Woolf Fanfiction.

Chapter One: What I Deserve

"Velocity, class. We are calculating velocity. A car's velocity, a ball's velocity, possibly even your velocity if you cared to make up an experiment. Now, someone tell me... What is the formula?"

The class was so quiet, you could probably hear a baby breathe-- as Sam would say. He thought it was a hilarious thought, for reasons I couldn't fathom. That's why he sat next to me, fighting off a grin and moving his fingers around to distract him from my teasing glare.

"Samuel! I haven't heard anything out of you all class!" The teacher clapped his hands and rubbed them together slowly, "What is the formula of velocity, son?"

"Distance over time." I whispered and Sam looked at me out of the corner of his eye.

The teacher sighed loudly and I looked up to see him staring at me. He turned his back and continued writing on the board.

"Thank you, Adeline." Mr.Truman mumbled, the sound already muffled with his back towards me.

I practically jumped out of my seat when Sam threw a balled up piece of paper at me. I frowned at him and he gestured for me to open it.

"so you smile for the first time

but I knew it wasn't for me

took my heart away

and said I was going to be

I thought I had you close but not quite"

They were song lyrics. Sam did this a lot... instead of paying attention or tending to his responsibilities, he'd write and I was always the one to read them. Except they were never actually for me. They were usually about Jenna. Or his parents.

His head was filled with a marvelous gift that I couldn't even begin to admire well enough. Even growing up, it was so easy for him to make up simultaneous raps as we played on the swings. Our 7 year old minds didn't have much of a vocabulary, but Sam certainly liked to rub it in my face that he was more clever with his words.

And as we continued to grow up, he got better at writing and better at his various instruments. But he kept one instrument a secret until he was about 14... and that was his voice.

I remember that day well. The day he told me he wanted to be a singer. The day I thought he was messing with me, so I laughed in his face.

I had been staring up at him from the floor, watching him hum with his guitar.His eyes were closed and he looked more peaceful than when he slept-- and mostly what I remember is how beautiful he looked, braces and all.

He had been coming off of a hard time with his parents and the only times he ever seemed calm was around his guitar. He carried it to the park with us whenever we went to get food. It was his first love.

He had asked me to record him, tossing his camcorder at me. I remember I flipped it open and tried to stop laughing; thinking he was just being an utter goof.

But then he had started singing... and I felt my world still and the blood running through my veins seemed to stop in it's tracks; leaving me pale and taken-aback.