Growing Pains

Chapter 2

Later that evening I escape back to my room, exhausted after a day of not doing an awful lot. Both of my hands are aching, my knuckles on my left hand are raw and grazed whereas my right is throbbing from the pain of Sam's burn. It's unusual, but each pain resonates in a slightly different way, cuts sting whilst burns ache and so forth. After all this time, I have created an extensive repertoire of what injuries cause each pain, whether it be my own injury or an echo of Sam's.

I glance over at the battered piano sitting in the corner forlornly. I had wanted to play today, but as I glance at my hands I figure that that isn't going to happen. Sam knows I play, although I don't think he thinks I'm any good. I like to compose my own little tunes.

I decide to deal with the pain in my hands and play anyway, because I want to. I rest my fingers against the keys delicately, before deciding on a tune and launching into it. This particular melody is very soothing, something inspired by my fondness for late nights and rainy days.

My thoughtful mood is interrupted by an incessant knocking on my door and I pause, huffing in irritation at not being able to finish the piece. I glance in the mirror and fix my inky black hair before pulling the door open.

Sam is leant against the frame of the door, his face morphing into a smile as soon as he sees me.

"Long time no see!" He says and I snort. He doesn't move to come in, instead lingering in the doorway.

"What's up?" I ask and Sam's smile dampens slightly.

"Well...a couple friends from Spanish want to go out and I wanted to introduce you to them." He says unsurely and I try to keep my face passive. Sam loves to go out and be social, me not so much.

"Fine, but it better not be like last time." I say, agreeing reluctantly. Sam's expression lights up and he rocks on his heels slightly.

"Awesome, can I come in?" He asks as I wander to my wardrobe and I look back at him curiously.

"Course you can, you don't have to ask." I call, listening to him closing the door behind him.

I shrug off my old comfy shirt and sigh at the thought of putting on an uncomfortable button up. Sam is giving me a run down on his friends and I know I should be paying more attention but I can't help it, I don't want to meet his new friends.

I pluck out a relatively nice, but more importantly comfy, blue shirt and pull it on as I turn to face Sam. He pauses what he was saying, staring at me peculiarly and I laugh.

"That bad, huh?" I ask, watching as his face contorts uncomfortably.

I go to remove the shirt but Sam yelps.

"No! No, don't take it off. I haven't seen it before, it looks really good." He insists, giving me a once over look to make sure.

"Yeah you have, I wore it last week, you idiot." I remark, watching Sam laugh weakly at his own mistake.

"Lighten up would you? I rely on you to be charismatic so I don't have to try in social situations. If people like you, they kind of like me by default." I say, chuckling but Sam frowns.

"That's not true. If people don't like you then I don't like them." He says and I turn to face him, puzzled.

"What?"

"If my friends don't like you then they're not my friends." He says simply, as if it were the easiest thing to comprehend in the world.

"Tell me you're kidding." I say monotonously, searching his face for any sign of deceit.

"Nope." He remarks, falling back onto my bed, arms crossed behind his head.

"Shit. You could have told me that? I might have tried a bit harder to get your friends to like me if I had known." I hiss under my breath, his backward logic infuriating me slightly and now it's his turn to look confused.