Sam, you say, and you can tell by looking in his eyes that he's not listening. Sam can't listen to you right now, or won't. Won't. He won't listen to you.
Sam, you try again. Sam, stop it. Be serious. We need to get out of here; it's dangerous.
You admire his long hair, growing longer as the months go by. It looks silky, and you just want to reach out and touch it, to reassure yourself. And him. Yeah, him.
Sam, you say again. Your voice cracks a little at the end, but you ignore it because there's no reason you should be sad, he's just joking, everything's alright, he's alright, you're alright-
Sam, and finally it's a sob. You bury your head in his still chest and try to take comfort in his body, but he's cold, so cold. You were one second too late, just one second, and why is he so cold?
You feel cold and you know deep inside that you'll never feel warm again.