Sam Goode wasn't always alien-obsessed.
His Dad was. The man who made himself up to be an Anthropologist, not just a foreman at the steel mill. The father that believed in ancient astronauts, UFO's, and extra-terrestrial life. Who devoted his time to preparing for some alien arrival. The father that disappeared and never came back, leaving his seven-year-old son and wife and all of his work behind him.
Sam believed he was a genius. People told him his dad was a freak. Maybe he was, but it didn't matter. That was his Dad. His real dad. Not the jerk-ass his mom married. Maybe the boy never truly thought there was actually life out there, in space. Not until his dad went missing without a word, leaving no possible traces of where he went. What other explanation could there be?
He started searching the skies with telescopes. Reading every alien conspiracy he could get his hands on. His mother tried to stop him numerous times, telling him to put that stuff away and give up, move on with his life. Don't be like his father, wasting his time with some fantastical idea that didn't exist. He refused though.
He refused not to believe, because believing was the only hope he had of seeing his father again, of finding out what happened, solving the mystery that plagued him ever since that day. Because he believed that if he found out why his dad went missing, if he was possibly still out there, living, breathing, it would change everything.
Make everybody see his dad was right. That he wasn't a freak. Then his mom would leave his step-dad. They'd get out of this hell-hole he was living in. Everything would be fine. Better than before. Because they would know the truth.
He started claiming his dad was abducted. His Mother reprimanded him for it. Nobody ever believed him of course, and he started to keep the idea to himself, scared of what anybody else would say, keeping it in the back of his mind, dwelling on it.
He started wearing his Dad's glasses, as if that would link him to his Dad's sight. That someday, it would reveal some type of clue. Someday he might see what his dad saw. Someday, he was going to find proof. Proof was all he needed. He would never stop searching, never get the idea out of his head. It would always be there, somewhere in the back of his mind.