In The Lonely Hour
An Until Dawn Fanfiction
-one shot-
Title: In The Lonely Hour
Synopsis: Sam and Mike are the only ones left. While Mike tries to get closer to her for comfort, Sam pushes away - fueled by anger and resentment that Mike is alive and Josh is dead.
Genre: Angst
Timeline: Sam and Mike - Sole Survivors
Pairings: [Sam/Mike][Sam/Josh]
Rating: T+ (Some non-descriptive sexual content, cursing)
A/N: Apologies ahead of time… but this is a quick break from my regular JAM fics for this… I don't know why, I just had to write it. It's Sam/Mike but with HEAVY Josh/Sam focus.
Final MiM chapter and next Connected chapter out soon.
Also, if I have a harder time keeping up it's cuz…. I'M GETTING MARRIED IN 31 DAYS! So my writing time is a little more constrained. Bear with me.
Sam is a broken, shattered bitch in this one and I love it. So before you bitch at me about it, I am already aware. Sorry "Saint Sam" worshippers. I'm over it. But I still love you all.
February 28th, 2015 - 10:48 pm
Bzzzz bzzzz bzzzz bzzzz
...6 Missed calls.
Beep.
Mike: sam. pick up. [10:48pm]
Bzzzz bzzzz bzzz bzzzz
….7 missed calls.
Beep.
Mike: ur so fucking stubborn [10:50 pm]
Beep.
Mike: the worst [10:51 pm]
Bzz-
"Quit blowing up my phone, Mike. I said I don't want to talk," she snaps into the receiver.
"Sam-"
"I said, stop calling me. This is the last warning-"
"Sam just- wait." There's a pause. She hasn't hung up this time. Not yet. Why though, she's not quite sure.
"What," she finally submits. In the heavy silence he realizes that he can't even remember what he wanted to say to her. Maybe there's nothing even to say.
"Drinks?" he blurts. It's the only thing he could think of. She closes her eyes, rubbing her forehead with her thumb. "Coffee?" he tries instead. She can't bring herself to say yes, although something inside of her wants to.
Maybe it's because they're the only ones left.
And maybe it's because she doesn't want to be alone anymore.
"Tea? Fuck, I don't know. Any beverage of your choice."
Still, silence while she teeters carefully on loneliness and hating him. Not only is he a reminder of everything they went through, he's also a reminder of Josh and her inability to save him.
"Sam?"
This conversation is too awkward. Too forced. Everything she thought it would be. She can hear him sigh audibly on the other end and then,
"Sam, please. I really just need someone to talk to. Someone who understands-"
He means someone who went through that night of hell with him and lived to tell the tale. Still, Josh's words echo in her head; all the times he'd call her in the middle of the night while his sisters were gone and it has a particularly painful affect on her heart. It's squeezing. Stabbing, even.
What she wouldn't give to hear him on the other line, again; not Mike, whose name now leaves a bitter taste on her tongue. She placed Josh in Mike's seemingly capable hands but... he failed.
And now Josh was gone.
But oh, he was here. Mr. Hero. Mr. Class President. Even the voice in her head can't hide her disdain.
So, here he is. Wanting to get drinks. To offer comfort to each other. She knows the only kind of comfort Mike is capable of giving… It makes her insides churn. Her body is hot now, she feels the waves of anger and frustration rushing over her, painting her body red.
"I can't," she tells him curtly to keep from being too hostile. "I can't be the one who's there for you, Mike."
"Can't… or won't?" he challenges. Another pause. She's biting her tongue. She's wanted nothing more than to lash out at him for weeks since he left Josh down in the mines to be torn apart by those monsters. Maybe that's why she'd been avoiding him so much.
"Both," she decides. "And don't want to. Goodbye, Mike."
March 8th, 2015 - 2:23 pm
"Shit-fuck," he mutters under his breath when he sees her round the corner, followed by one last silent, residual, "fuuuck."
He'd forgotten just how small this town was. Too damn small, if you ask him.
Luckily, she's distracted at first and doesn't see him. Doesn't notice him; zombie-like. And Mike realizes this is the first time he's seen her since the police station - any other time he'd tried she'd just declined. At first he tries to turn around and go the way he came, maybe duck into a little boutique on the strip, but he's too late.
When her eyes find his, she recoils, looking back over her shoulder for a way out. But Sam's not a rude girl. He knows if he approaches her, she will have to make polite conversation.
So, he does.
"Hi," he chokes out, wrapping his coat tightly around himself. He can see her shifting her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably, her grocery bags weighing down her arms to her sides, swinging like heavy pendulums.
"Hey," she hiccups back. She can't even look at him, so they stand there uncomfortably for a few seconds that feel like a small eternity. Her cheeks are pink from the unseasonably cold, wet, March weather. She clears her throat, her eyes finding her feet again. "Okay," she says under her breath, stepping to the side to continue on her path, but he blocks her. Mike forces her to meet his gaze.
"Can I help you carry that?"
"I got it," she barks. Mike clenches his jaw before firmly ripping the grocery bag out of her hand anyway. He's tired of her fighting to stay away from him as though he's a disease.
"Sam," he says, staring up at her from lowered eyes, "just… hang out with me for a while."
She opens her mouth to object, but the circles under her eyes and her wan complexion makes him believe she's too exhausted to fight him off. They stare each other down for a moment, then she somberly nods; a small victory for him and an agonizing defeat for her.
He turns, walking in step with her and they say nothing more.
March 29th, 2015 - 8:46 pm
She sits on the barstool, wondering why she ever agreed to do this.
Maybe it was so he'd stop inviting himself over to her apartment or calling her on a daily basis. One thing is for certain: Alcohol surely won't help the situation. All it seems to be doing is dredging up all that deep-seated anger and animosity she has building up in her every single time she sees his smug, chiseled face.
'I hate you. I hate you and your handsome face,' she silently thinks over and over again as she watches him order them another round of beers. She might be unfairly angry at him, but she still has eyes. Mike's always been an attractive man but, No. NO. No no no no. 'You killed my best friends. Then you left Josh, MY Josh, to die alone and cold and crazy in those mines,' she reminds herself.
He sits back down on the stool beside her, setting the cold beer in front of her and immediately tipping his back. It's to take the edge off.
The edge is certainly not off. It's sharper than ever. Cutting, even... but not enough to cut the tension.
"Have you decided to go back to school yet?" he asks stiffly. He's trying to make small talk. She picks up her beer and scoffs into it, it echoes back at her. She's shaking her head as she takes a sip. "What?" He's confused. He shouldn't be. It took a lot of convincing to get her here tonight. He knew she didn't want to do this. He knew what he was getting.
She sets her beer bottle down a little too hard, "really? School? You harass me for the last three weeks straight and that's what you think we should be talking about?" He chortles out a humorless laugh,
"Jesus Christ, Sam. I'm just trying to keep things light -"
"Yeah Mike I think we pretty much lost that luxury when we watched all of our friends die gruesome deaths, dontcha think?" she spits sarcastically. The audacity.
Mike folds his lips, taking in air through his nose and running an exasperated hand through his hair. She can tell he's getting heated, and it's almost soothing to her. Amusing.
"Okay, Sam," he patronizes. "I-I was trying to keep it light but, no. You wanna suffer, so… let's do it. Let's dwell. We can talk about our dead friends and everything we just went through alllll night-"
"Tell me, Mike…" Sam tilts her head to the side, a scornful smile crooking her lips. She sets her chin on her palm and props it up with her elbow on the bar. "Tell me how it happened. Tell me how you tried to fight it off and save him." Mike hangs his head shamefully. He knew she would take it there.
"Stop it," he whispers.
"Did it gouge out his eyes, like Em? Tear off his head like Chris and Ash?" She asks this like a giddy school-girl asking for gossip from a friend. It's off-putting, to say the least. Mike scoots back away from her, the booze on her breath quite telling just where she is in her sobriety at this point. "Or, did it just-" she pauses, her hands joined together like claws as she pulls them apart dramatically, crudely, "rip off his jaw… like Jessica?" That one strikes a nerve. She can see his body tense up.
"Sam, stop," Mike says between gritted teeth, his eyes scanning around them to see if anyone else is listening to them. He's getting uncomfortable. Good. That's what she was going for. She leans in, that sinister grin growing. Her eyes twinkle. Sam is a shell of who she once was and it's terrifying.
"Did you stay to watch him die? To watch the blood flow and the color drain out of his face? Or did you get out of there and save yourself, Mike?"
In one ferocious swipe, Mike's beer bottle crashes across the bar, shattering into a million pieces against the fall wall. He stares down at her, breathing heavily.
"That's not fair," he whispers harshly. Still, the smirk never leaves her lips, but it wavers as he seethes, "you left him with me, Sam. You left us both down there."
"You. Tough guy. Out. Now." The bartender is pointing towards the door having pieced together the broken beer bottle and the angry, red-faced man in front of him. Mike doesn't say another word as he rips his coat from the back of his stool and storms out. Sam feels instant relief when he's gone, turning to the burly bartender with sympathetic eyes.
"So sorry about him… he's just…" she brings the bottle to her lips, shaking her head, "goin' through some stuff..."
April 2nd, 2015 - 10:02 pm
"What's that?" Sam asks, staring at the box in Mike's hand as he waits on her front porch.
"Pizza," Mike tells her. But she's not blind.
"I know it's pizza. Why do you have it and why are you here?" she reiterates, her arms crossing over her chest, but not before glancing down at her watch, "at 10 o'clock at night?'
"Peace offering?" he tries. He lifts the lid. "It's a supreme…" he says this as though it's tempting to her but it takes everything out of her not to retch.
"I'm vegan." He stares at her blankly.
"Shit. I knew that," he breathes, suddenly looking very sheepish. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I forgot-" She drops her arms to her sides, her head rolling back with a loud sigh. She knows she's not going to be able to turn him away this time and she realizes that maybe she's feeling a bit guilty for pushing him over the edge last time they saw each other.
Sam takes a step back, swinging her door open a little more and gesturing for him to come inside. He looks at her with 'who, me?!' eyes, but then doesn't hesitate to step right past her.
They sit on her couch and she nurses her cocktail - gin and tonic. Josh's favorite. It's too strong. Just the way he liked it.
She lets Mike keep the conversation light for a while. She feels she owes it to him after last time. And since she can't bring herself to apologize to him for bringing out the worst in him, she just lets it all be.
Neither of them touch the pizza, though. She stares at the box. Josh would have had it gone in one sitting. She tries not to think about things like that - it aches too much. Instead, she takes another sip of her drink.
Once the booze loosens up her spin and makes her brain feel tingly, she finds it impossible not to let things slip into 'old times.' There are even a few laughs, although she remains infinitely conscious that she still hates him, but not nearly as much as she hates herself.
"Do you miss them?" he asks her suddenly and it catches her unprepared; she's surprised he's even going there - it went so wrong before. Maybe the gin has opened him up, too. She shrugs, a loose blonde lock falling in her face.
"Some more than others."
"Yeah… me too," he sighs, his head falling back into the cushions of her couch, his arms resting limply his sides. He glances at her sideways. "But… I'm glad, you know… that you're here, Sam." It's a punch to her stomach.
"Stop saying that," she murmurs out quickly, sitting up and turning her body away from his. He sits forward, his eyebrows narrowed.
"What did I say?"
"Things he's said to me. You've done it twice, and I- I can't-"
She's sobbing now, out of nowhere, and Mike feels like an asshole. He didn't know… of course he didn't know. She lets him touch her - just his hand on her back at first but still - it feels good to be touched. Even better to be held.
'I hate you,' she thinks but doesn't say, but it's losing its luster. 'I hate you.'
"I… I didn't know-"
"It's fine," she snips, wiping her tears away as quickly as they came. "Josh is a fucking asshole…" she mumbles. She stares off vacantly and whispers a near-silent, "was." She'll never get used to speaking about him in past tense. She bites on her bottom lip, her teeth peeling off the dry skin.
Mike sinks into the couch again, his whole body facing her now because… he doesn't even know, now. He is craving the closeness?
"You loved him, didn't you?" Mike finally pieces it together. Sam's face scrunches like she'd sucked on a lemon; pained. She nods harshly, covering her mouth with her hands. Mike thinks about it for a moment before he actually gets the courage to reach forward, brushing the golden hair from her face. She jerks back from his touch, and although he tries not to be offended, she can see it in his eyes anyway.
Her face softens, but the tears are still there, magnifying her eyes to giant orbs.
"Mike?" she asks as another tear trails down her cheek. "Can I a-ask… was it quick?" She winces immediately after asking him, tilting her head as though she's actually witnessing the gory scene in her head - or maybe she doesn't actually want the answer at all. "Did he suffer?"
Mike's jaw hangs open a bit as he tries to figure out just how to answer that. Does he tell her? Does he tell her that he watched Josh's head get crushed between that thing's hands? Does he tell her that Josh is gone for good, that he watched it happen himself?
Mike sighs through his nostrils, his eyes unable to look at anything but her face. He slowly shakes his head, petting down her hair comfortingly as his other hand grips onto hers tightly. Their fingers interlace. She doesn't pull from him this time.
"No," he assures her as confidently as he can, and she sighs and closes her eyes in temporary relief. "He didn't suffer, Sammy."
She gasps lightly, her eyes popping open and still filled with tears as she snaps her hand back from his now as though it were hot to the touch. He wonders what he said wrong, but he's answered when she turns away from him and quietly tells him,
"Maybe don't call me that anymore, Okay?"
Mike nods solemnly, "Okay."
April 3rd, 2015 - 2:36 am
Sam: u rly shouldn't have done that. [2:36 am]
Mike: i know. [2:39 am]
Sam: im sorry mike but im never going to be able to feel that way about u [2:39 am]
Mike: i know. [2:41 am]
Sam: and to be honest, i don't think you really feel that way about me either. [2:42 am]
Mike: i dont. [2:43 am]
Sam: then y even try? [2:44 am]
Sam: if u know its not gonna happen and neither of us rly want it to... [2:44 am]
Mike: what do you want me to say here? Ur kinda just rubbin salt in the wounds at this point… [2:50 am]
Sam: sorry. [2:52 am]
Mike: don't be. i shouldn't have tried to make a move on u. Bad choice on my part. I guess we just deal with grief in different ways. [2:57 am]
Mike: ur not even my type anyway… [2:59 am]
Mike: Sam? [3:06 am]
Mike: U fall asleep? [3:13 am]
Sam: i never sleep [3:21 am]
Mike: well anyway, sorry about before. I now know kissing is off the table. [3:24]
Mike: ...SAM [3:30 am]
Sam: i don't think we should see each other anymore. [3:32 am]
Mike: if it's cuz you think im gonna try anything with you again, don't worry. You've made urself pretty clear… [3:35 am]
Sam: i will never be able to look at you and not see him. [3:40 am]
Sam: And i will never be able to look at you and know that you're here because he isn't. [3:41 am]
Mike: ouch. [4:04 am]
Sam: take care of yourself, Munroe. [4:05 am]
June 1st, 2015 - 4:46 pm
She's sitting on the park bench - Mike had seen her here before, back before everything had happened. She called it her 'thinkin' spot' - complete with a poorly executed accent. It was her little patch of land on the hill that seemed to overlook the whole city. He tries to pretend he doesn't see her; after all, the last time they'd spoken she said she didn't think they should see each other again.
So, he keeps his head down under his rain-soaked hood and pulling up the collar of his jacket. He keeps his head forward, hands stuffed into his coat pockets as he continues down the paved pathway, pretending he doesn't see her.
The plan is foiled as he hears, "Mike?"
He pauses, caught between wanting to go talk to her and wanting to disappear altogether.
"Mike." She says it again and when he turns, she gives him a weak wave in his direction. He glances from side to side before sighing and trudging up the small hill to meet her at the bench.
"Hey," he says, and he's barely able to make eye contact. He's still slightly embarrassed from the rejection, last time. Although, he wasn't quite sure what he was thinking.
"Hi," is her short, choking reply. He can tell she's just as hesitant about her decision to call him over as he is. He gives a shrug, irritably asking her,
"What are you doing out here in the rain?" Sam sits back, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.
"Well, what are you doing out here in the rain?" Mike shakes some water from his slicker.
"I have a coat." She gives him a small acknowledging smile, but it falls quickly along with her eyes as she stares absently back down at the ground. She doesn't look good. He worries about her; even more than before.
"May I?" he asks, gesturing towards the bench. Sam just shrugs at first, only partially committed to her decision; she doesn't want to confuse him… but she also doesn't really want to be alone right now, either.
Mike clears his throat and sits on the bench as well, although a good distance apart to keep from scaring her off again. He can see her fidgeting with something in the empty space between the two of them; her fingers are softly grazing over some etching in the wooden bench: J+S, surrounded by a crudely carved heart.
"It's his birthday today," she tells him in a daze. Mike simply nods - he knows. It's why he went for a walk anyway, trying to clear his head. Her finger scratches softly at the 'S' and wood splinters beneath her fingernail. "He would have been 21."
Mike doesn't say anything at first, just stares down at the permanent reminder that this was their bench.
J+S.
"Did you carve that?" he asks, just trying to get her to open up, get her talking. Maybe it will help her, he thinks.
"No," she breathes. "He did. On his 18th. That's why I'm here, I-" she stops, her voice hitching up in her throat. She clears it. "I guess I just wanted to feel close to him today." Mike's heart sinks when he realizes just how broken Sam is - how broken they both are. Maybe Mike and Sam survived, but neither of them made it alive off that mountain. Their bodies were here, but Blackwood was their burial ground.
Sam finally turns her head to him slowly, really look at him for what feels like the first time since early February - not just through him.
Her eyes used to be so bright and lively - now they look empty, a hollowness inside of them that can't be ignored.
"I dream about him sometimes," she tells Mike, wistfully. She smiles, but there's no joy. There's never joy anymore. "That's always so nice. Then… I wake up and it's the most awful feeling in the world."
Silence settles between them, before, " Sam, I'm sor-"
"Don't," she chuckles, shaking her head. "It's so much easier just to hate you, Mike." She knows it is unfair, but she can't bring herself to care at this point.
"Why?"
"Because I can't hate him. He's not here for me to hate him." She looks down at her hands, picking at her nails apprehensively. "But don't worry - I can't possibly hate you more than I hate myself." The rain is drenching her clothes, turning her normally golden hair dirty blonde and dripping down her cheeks - although he can't totally tell if there are tears mixed in with those raindrops.
"Why do you hate yourself?" he ventures. Another shrug, another soft sign.
"I dunno… 'cuz I didn't see the signs? Because I couldn't save him?" Mike swallow hard, trying to decide if it's even a good idea to ask the next question.
"And… why do you hate me?" Her eyes flicker to his sadly.
"Because I really believed that you could." Mike shrinks. He sits back in the bench, his arm falling behind her. It's the closest they've gotten to touching since he tried to kiss her. It's not very intimate.
"I thought I could save Jessica, too," he admits.
"Yeah, well… I thought we could save all of them… but…"
"But what?"
"All we saved was ourselves," she spits, disgusted with herself and him. Mike leans his head back, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. Drops of rain land on his face. She starts to feel bad at the mention of Jessica. And Em, for that matter. Sam wasn't the only one of them who lost someone she loved. She forgets that, sometimes, in her crippling grief.
"Sorry about Jess." Mike doesn't acknowledge her apology - maybe he doesn't think she owes him one at all.
"You saved me, you know…" he says, instead. Sam's eyes fall to the side, glancing at him sideways. He peeks over at her through one eye. "Twice," he adds, holding up two fingers - well, one and a half. One of the many casualties that night.
"How do you figure?" she asks him.
"Well, you knocked that thing off of me, you know. Down in the mines."
"That is one time," she nods.
"And then...Later. In the lodge. I saw you think about it - about going for that switch. But… you didn't. You saved me, instead." His words are very heartfelt and it makes Sam squirm uncomfortably under his gaze - it is so gracious and caring. She never wanted to be looked at like that by him… and yet, a part of her hated herself for liking the way it felt to be looked at that way by him. It makes her instantly feel guilt-ridden.
"Don't give me too much credit, Mike," she snorts ironically, thoroughly ending the romantic tension between them.
"What does that mean?" he asks, eyebrows raised in offense. She looks him dead in the eyes.
"It means…. I thought about it. Maybe it was just for like a split second, but I thought about making a run for it." Mike's mouth drops, and for a second he looks like he is going to object, but he doesn't. Instead, he exhales.
"I guess I can't blame you. When that thing came out of the water and grabbed Josh-" Mike's mouth snaps shut and he wants to kill himself for speaking without thinking.
Sam's eyes narrow, "wow, you are really good at putting your foot in your mouth, aren't you Mike?" she snaps. Mike closes, his eyes, pressing between them on the bridge of his nose.
"Sam, I'm-" There's nothing he can say. He groans quietly to himself. "I'll see myself off."
"Good idea."
June 17th, 2015 - 7:15 pm
"What are the odds, huh?" Mike tries to say it charmingly, but it comes out cringy and forced.
Sam sighs - of course this was happening, "Not in my favor, I suppose."
He pulls a piece of paper from his suit pocket. He shows it to her as proof that he's not lying. Table number 11.
Sam reluctantly gestures to the open chair beside her. Be my guest.
Mike asks her how she knows the bride and groom. Turns out the bride is her great aunt's-stepson's-daughter, Sadie. And she's marrying Mike's-dad's-business partner's-son, Brian.
Small town. Too, too small.
"Sam?" he says, she just stares forward at the dancefloor, shaking her head and sipping her champagne. Mike is not deterred; he leans forward, his elbows on his knees. "You look really beautiful tonight," he tells her. Her jaw clenches but she doesn't move, so he gets up to get himself a drink.
Sam finishes hers off.
June 17th, 2015 - 9:17 pm
Four or five flutes of champagne in and she's a different Sam. Mike sticks to one or two beers - he wants to keep his wits about him.
"C'mon, dance with me." She's kicked off her shoes, her hair is down. She's a little sloppy, but as always in control of herself as she extends her hand out to him. For a split second, he sees a Sam reminiscent of the one he knew before; carefree. Fun. Happy.
It's the booze. He knows this. Still, he wants it to be real. Not because he is in love with her - not that he ever could love her - but for a brief moment, it feels like it did before everything had broken them.
He stands with a short grunt, dragging his feet over to her. She takes both of his hands, swaying them a bit and chuckling.
"Alright, Munroe. Loosen up the hips, you're not a robot," she instructs. He smirks and continues to stiffly lob from side to side. It's alright - she's swaying enough for the both of them. She lifts his arm and spins under it; a move totally out of sync with the music, but she doesn't seem to care about that.
Just for a while, in this moment, she is free.
June 17th, 2015 - 9:31 pm
Her head is heavy on his chest now, his arms wrapped tightly around her and hers reciprocating on him. Not around his neck - his waist. Like a hug. Like two people comforting one another.
A sad song plays loudly through the speakers.
The happy moment from before has come and gone, and they both withdrawal back into themselves, their minds on darker things.
They rock back and forth. He steps on her feet a few times but she doesn't scold him for it. Sam had always assumed Mike would have better moves - strange, the things you get to know about a person when you become partners in misery.
And that's really what they are, now.
The Blackwood Mountain Survivors, the papers had called them. The Dynamic Duo. Braving the unthinkable, saving themselves from a fate most horrific - Sam and Mike only wished it sounded more melodramatic than it actually was.
"Are you thinking about them?" he asks into her ear when he realizes they haven't spoken in a few moments. He can hear her sniff faintly.
"Yeah…" she quietly replies.
"Me too." he swallows, trying to look down at her face but only sees the top of her blonde head. "Thinking about him?"
She sighs and he feels her body slack under the weight of his arms.
"I'm always thinking about him."
June 17th, 2015 - 11:11 pm
They're outside now. She needed fresh air. Mike just got done holding back her hair as she puked in the bushes beside the stoop they're standing on.
"You can kiss me if you want to," Sam says with a soft slur. She shrugs one shoulder; the strap falls down her arm. She leans back against the cool pillar of the building outside while the wedding reception rages on. Mike's eyebrows raise, he isn't sure if he heard her right.
"Um," he mumbles. She wiggles on her feet a bit, jutting her chin out at him.
"I know you've probably thought about it since last time you tried," she taunts. "I did. Once."
Mike's mouth runs dry. He has thought about it - but only because he is a man and she is gorgeous - it's practically biology at this point. He gives a brief chuckle, stopping himself before the thought to take advantage of this situation can even fully cross his mind.
She's drunk.
She's not just drunk, she's still in love with someone else.
And she's mourning.
And Sam is very much no longer herself.
She also just vomited, which really seals the deal for him.
He clears his throat, slipping the strap to her black dress back onto her milky white and slightly freckled shoulder.
"I don't think that's a good ide-"
Sam tilts her head, eyeing him carefully, "I always wondered what Hannah saw in you," she muses. Her fingers come up and roam clumsily over the stubble on his cheek, one stray finger lazily tagging his bottom lip on the way down. "Probably the eyes."
"The uh, the eyes huh? That's it?" She shrugs carelessly - she doesn't feel too inclined to cater to his ego more than she already has.
"It kinda pulls it all together. Like a rug."
"Pulls what together," he chuckles, his arms out to catch her as she wobbles a bit.
"You know. Your face. Your eyes pull it all together - all the handsome parts." She retches a bit and Mike is slightly nervous she's gonna puke on him. The conversation, however, is still quite endearing.
"Ummm… thanks. That's the strangest compliment I've gotten… I think?"
"What I'm trying to say is you can kiss me if you want." She leans into him a bit, staring up at him through batting eyelashes. "I kinda don't wanna be alone tonight, you know?" She fidgets with the buttons on his suit jacket and there's nothing he wants more than the take her home and ease that loneliness between the both of them in the most carnal of ways - the only way Mike knows how.
He only thinks about it for a split second before he says, instead, "How 'bout we get you an taxi?"
June 18th, 2015 - 12:34 am
Mike doesn't get her into her bed so much as tosses her into her bed. He is exhausted, trying to get Sam from the wedding to her apartment - the bill for the uber was going to be insane. Even still, he's glad neither of them drove.
He peels off one of her black heels, then the other. She instinctively curls up into a ball and he quickly covers her up. He sits down beside her for a moment, just trying to get his head on straight before he makes the long ride home. He glances down at her face; she seems more at peace than he's ever seen her, away from her thoughts.
His eyes catch a glimmer of a framed picture on her nightstand. He picks it up, remembering the day it was taken: Sam, Chris, Josh, Beth and Emily, all in their swimsuits by the Washington's pool. They're all laughing and Emily is pointing at Josh, who is in a lime-green speedo he'd been forced to wear when he lost a bet against Chris over whether it was Bill Pullman or Bill Paxton in Independence Day.
He smiles at the memory.
He and Chris gave Josh a pep talk that day about making a move on Sam. She'd given herself away earlier during truth or dare when she was asked (lamely) by Ashley what her favorite color was and responded with 'green' far too quickly.
Speedo or not, it worked, and the two of them tried to pretend like they hadn't been caught making out behind the garden shed later that evening.
That was long before Hannah and Beth went missing; even longer before the rest of them-
Mike decides he's not going to think about that stuff anymore tonight. They are the only ones here now. They have each other, whether Sam likes it or not. He isn't sure what compels him to do so, but he gives her a sweeping kiss across her forehead.
"Goodnight, Sam," he whispers. She gives a groggy yawn, pulling the blankets closer to herself and settling in.
"Night, Josh."
Mike's breath hitches, and it's hard not to feel ever so slightly disheartened. But then he realizes that he'd rather her call him Josh than never call him anything at all.
June 18th, 2015
Mike: How's that hangover? [8:48 am]
Mike: I left u tylenol and water on ur nightstand [8:49 am]
Sam: ugggghhhhhh [1:32 pm]
Mike: Whoa I sent that like 5 hours ago. Just waking up, princess? [1:33 pm]
Mike: I warned you about champagne and tequila [1:34 pm]
Mike: how'd u sleep? [1:34 pm]
Sam: I had a really vivid dream about Josh. I think u were there? [1:36 pm]
Mike: No… not me. [2:09 pm]
Sam: Thx for getting me home last night… I think? [2:10 pm]
Mike: Yup [2:13 pm]
Sam: ill pay u back for the uber [2:14 pm]
Mike: no it's fine [2:15 pm]
Sam: fine. I guess ill see u around. [2:16 pm]
June 24th - 10:31 am
Sam is understandably mortified when Mike tells her about what she said at the wedding - about coming onto him and telling him he could kiss her. The vomiting part isn't necessarily flattering, either. Her face drops in her hands and she groans.
"It's okay. I was flattered," he tries to play off, but she's getting more and more frustrated.
Not at him.
At herself.
Sam hates herself for crossing that line, sober or not, with Mike.
MIKE.
Mike who played the prank on her best friend and Mike who let Josh succumb to a fate worse than she could ever imagine on her own.
She folds her arms tightly, sitting back in her chair.
"Well, thanks for stopping it. I was definitely not in the right mindset, at all," she tells him with a little too much disdain for his liking.
"At least a little part of you wanted it, right?" he asks brazenly, because his ego is tired of being thrown off kilter. Sam doesn't answer, so Mike throws his head back with an ironic chuckle, "oh, c'mon, Sam. It's just you and me here, you can be honest. They say people are most honest when they are drunk. Just admit a little part of you wanted me to kiss you that night."
He doesn't look smug anymore.
His eyes are pleading.
He needs to feel validated.
He needs to feel loved.
Sam nods vacantly, offering him a tiny shrug, "okay, yeah. Sure. Probably."
He smirks. A little too much, so she reels him back in, "but that doesn't change anything, Mike. It was a moment of weakness-"
"Don't be too gentle with me Sam," he rolls his eyes. She's not in any position to be shielding his feelings though. It's important that he knows she can't - and won't - be able to bring herself to feel that way for him.
Why would she?
Because they are the only ones alive? Because it's what would happen in a movie? Because it's what the universe would expect them to do?
She can't even bring herself to tell him that she doesn't blame him anymore, that it's not his fault.
No, Sam doesn't want to love Mike.
She just wants to move on. Or at least go back in time and stay down in those mines with Josh. Not a moment goes by that she isn't haunted by his ghost and if he knew that she and Mike had even remotely gotten close to-
"I gotta run," Mike says abruptly, ending their coffee date quickly. "Psych appointment.". She nods, giving him a faint wave on his way past her. "I'll um… I'll text you later, okay? Maybe we can watch a movie or something."
"Fine," she agrees, but her heart is sitting in the pit of her stomach begging her to ask him to stay because for once she realizes why Josh never wanted to be alone.
June 24th, 2015 - 8:46 pm
Mike: On my way. [8:46 pm]
Sam: See you soon. Don't forget the booze. [8:50 pm]
Mike: Roger, dodger [8:51 pm]
June 25th, 2015 - 2:38 am
A glance led to a touch.
A touch led to an embrace.
Before they knew it, Mike's mouth and searched out Sam's in the dim, movie-lit living room.
And yet, even with Mike's beer-soaked breath on her lips, she can't help but think of the first time she'd let things go this far with Josh.
Hannah and Beth had been missing for roughly two months when she ended up over at his house for their usual Friday night-Movie night. He was so nervous, so shy- more so than usual. She noticed small things- his shallow breathing, the way he set his hand gingerly on her thigh and how it felt like a woman's hand - not hard and calloused like Mike's.
Everything about Josh just seemed a bit… softer?
He always tasted like Big Red gum. For a while it was unnerving. After many more times of tasting him it became intoxicating.
"Is this okay?" Josh had asked as he ran his hand up the length of her thigh, and Sam felt her lips curve because it was more than alright - it was all she had wanted for years.
Even still, it was awkward... because he was her first. He laid a blanket down on the ground on the cinema room, "so you don't get rug burn," he'd said so chivalrously.
He was gentle and careful - asked if she was okay a lot. He seemed to know how to touch her. He was nothing like that masked maniac who chased her around a basement and then proceeded to commit a flashy form of suicide the night he took her virginity.
It wasn't until after it was over that Josh told her that that he wasn't just her first, but she was his as well.
"I feel like… like you're the only one who understands me," he'd said into the back of her neck as he held her that night. He might as well have told her he loved her right then and there. She ran her fingers through his hair while credits rolled on the giant screen…
In that moment, Sam was happy. There was never a bliss quite like it. Young love.
And then there's now...
Neither Mike nor Sam could lie and say that they didn't know it was coming - they were attracted to each other, of course. Not just bonded in tragedy, partners in misery, but also equally attractive specimens.
Mike opens up to her and tells her about his shortcomings, about how he blamed himself every single day for the loss of their friends - It reminds Sam of how hard Josh was on himself with everything that happened with his sisters.
And then, when Mike looks her dead in the eye and say, "I feel like… like you're the only one who understands me," Sam can't get his mouth to hers quick enough.
For a second, for a split second, she was with Josh again. Maybe in Mike's body as a vessel, but she for once felt close to him after all these months of feeling dead inside.
"I hate you. I hate you." she thinks, every time she wants to say Josh's name instead of his, every time it catches in her throat. "I hate me. I hate this."
Every thrust, every movement on top of her feels like a welcome intrusion, sending Sam spiraling out of her own mind, at least liberating her for a moment. And every time he disappears inside of her, Mike feels just a little more detached from himself as well, a little more in control.
His fingers clench around her wrists, pinning her deeper into the mattress. She likes it when it's like this: primal. Thoughtless. Hard and angry and sad and needing.
Just two people losing themselves in one another, trying not to think about their pain or what this means, just doing what humans do when they're hurting.
Mike tries to kiss her again, because he needs to feel connected to her, but she turns her head away. It suddenly seems too intimate - makes her think about what they are doing too much. He just wants to fix her - put her back together.
Feel better, damnit. Feel something. Let me fix you.
Something about the urgency in his movements makes it feel like he's trying to protect her, covering her body like he's shielding her from a grenade. He's trying to save her, trying to chase down invisible monsters and conquer them for her - redeem himself for messing up so badly with Jessica…
He tries not to think about Jess' lifeless eyes, so instead he looks down at Sam. Her eyes are unfocused, looking at anything other than him. Her face is set somewhere between pleasure and pain.
But Sam isn't here anymore, at least not the one who instigated this in the first place. She's left her body, she's floating above herself, watching everything unfold because she can't possibly imagine being in this moment… not with him. Not with Mike… Not...
She can feel the sting of tears in her eyes, and her heart aches as she just wishes over and over again that it was really him. She tries in vain to keep Mike from realizing that she's crying.
This was supposed to make her feel better.
All Sam feels is emptiness.
So she lets her eyes flutter closed again, and when she does come crashing back down, it's Josh's hands interlacing with hers. It's his breath on her skin and his sweat she tastes on his lips.
"I love you," she thinks, but only because she never got a chance to tell him. She bites her lip instead. Visions of Josh dance in her head, smiling and laughing and crying and happy and sad and angry and masked and unmasked and dying and living-
All at once.
And Sam feels more free and at peace than she has since before the night they all suffered and she lost him - but it still can't ease the aching in her heart. And it still can't wake the dead.
June 25th, 2015 - 9:13 am
Sam: Hey [9:13 am]
Mike: Hi [9:15 am]
Sam: Soooo [9:15 am]
Sam: About last night [9:16 am]
Mike: I kinda know where this is headed already [9:30 am]
Sam: Can you meet me? [9:32 am]
Mike: Where? [9:33 am]
Sam: the bench. In like half an hour? [9:33 am]
Mike: I've got therapy. 6 pm ok? [9:40 am]
Sam: sure. [10:01 am]
June 25th, 2015 - 6:03 pm
They both wear black - as though they are going to a funeral.
And in a way, they are.
Because Mike and Sam never had anything holding them together before - and the only thing holding them together now was sadness and misery.
It was time to put this thing to bed.
Mike strolls to the bench. He isn't sad - he is just as aware as she is that this isn't right. This isn't the glue that is supposed to hold them together.
His love, and yes, he could use that word now - his love for Sam stems merely from the fact that she is the only one who truly knows what happened that night. The one who fought beside him.
What they had was deeper than love - it was something no one would ever be able to replace in his heart.
But that doesn't make it right.
He turns to her on the bench, wisping one of her loose bangs from her face. She does't flinch this time. She's too focused on what she came to say.
"It wasn't your fault," she says, shaking her head sadly. "I… I'm so sorry I was so angry for so long and I blamed you for so long. But… it wasn't your fault." Mike clenches his jaw, nodding in acknowledgement.
"I'm not gonna beat myself up here but… I tied him to the post. I let him get taken by that thing. I participated in he prank on Hannah and I couldn't make it to Jessica… Sam…." he looks at her through low brows, his face stoic, "I was the catalyst for it all."
She closes her eyes and turns from him so he can't see the tears run down her cheeks, but it doesn't matter. He sees them anyway.
"You had a right to hate me," he tells her. She looks at him with glossy eyes.
"I don't hate you, Mike. In some weird way, I might even love you." He's a little surprised by her confession at first but then she continues. "I wouldn't have ever felt that way if… if things were different. If Josh was still here. If Jess-" she stops. It's too much again. She swallows down the lump in her throat. "I can't let the only feelings I feel for you stem from desperation or … or us clinging to each other because of what we've been through."
"I know," he breathes. He takes her hand and she doesn't pull it away. "Sam, about last night-"
"It made me realize, you know," she sniffs, "it made me realize that no one will ever replace him. And I love you too much to try to make you the person who has to try. We're too broken. We will never have a clean slate."
It's the truth. And he knows that. And it doesn't even hurt because his heart beats in sync with hers. They were never meant to be in each other's lives, this way. She always belonged to Josh - and he always to someone else.
"Maybe… maybe in some other universe, some other world, there would have been a place for us." She wraps her coat tighter around herself and brushes away another brief and fleeting tear that has escaped her eyes. She can't look at him now and that kills him - but he can hardly look at her either. He knows she's right.
Sam and Mike were meant to survive the night, but they were never meant to fall in love.
"Maybe a world where I wasn't completely in love with Josh and there was never a Hannah or an Emily or a Jessica… Maybe a world like that," she thinks aloud. Her eyes flit to his but only for a second - he hasn't spoken a word. Sam is okay with that. It makes this easier on her, anyway.
"We would never be able to be happy, Mike. Because we went through too much and… and because I will never not wish you were him."
Sam takes in a staggered breath before she turns to him, finally getting the courage to look into his eyes and they seem so sad, yet so understanding.
"I really think this is goodbye this time," Mike says. She nods, sniffling.
"Yeah… I don't think I'll ever be able to leave Blackwood Mountain if I keep you around, ya know?" she reasons. And he agrees. Every time he looks at her, he sees them all.
It's a haunting, beautiful could-have-been, but was never meant to be.
The single thing to shatter the silence between them is the distant sound of church bells. Sam shifts her weight on the bench.
"I'm gonna go now," Sam says, gazing down crossly. She rolls a pebble under sneaker. "I think we've… said all we need to say?" It sounded like more of a question than a statement.
"Take care of yourself, Samantha," he says, because she's right; there's nothing else to say. Her tearful eyes creep up to Mike's somber face. With every morsel of internal strength she has, Sam rises and walks shakily out from the stare of Mike's stale, brown eyes.
Fin.