knox is curled around him, tangled in his body, and sam finds himself so fucking comfortable. he doesn't feel smothered or claustrophobic with knox. he can't explain it.

a phenomena, confusion and bewilderment fill his mind.

but he doesn't second guess it. instead, he accepts it and embraces it. his hands remain where knox had put them, holding him and shifting his head enough to give knox a kiss, even if most of his lips are now covered in glitter because of it.

"we've talked plenty," slowly his thumbs caress the bare skin beneath them. "i'll be content listening to the sound of your breathing, and heart beating."

they're a reminder he's not alone. that he's content. in this darkness, surrounded by knox in every way, he's happy. and the smile on his face that won't leave is proof of that.

knox prescott

"that your way of telling me to sleep?" he'd been wired not moments before, but now he's pressed against sam's warmth. his head rests against his chest and he can feel the rise and fall of sam's chest, hear his heartbeat. and after and through all this, he'd gotten what he wanted. 

because he can't remember the last time he managed to fall asleep with the lights still on, curled up against someone that doesn't leave him with their back turned or selfishly wanting more. 

knox shifts, sleepily drawing his covers halfway up his side, before he sighs and falls asleep before finishing his task. 

samuel carter

☉

sam's eyes had closed. he feels knox shifting, but the effort his half-assed. glancing down, he manages to get the blanket up by pulling it up with his foot, then grabbing it with a free hand, and covering the two of them up.

it's comfortable. knox is comfortable.

and for the first time in his life, without needing to be exhausted by a task or drugged by a pill, sam slips into sleep. that kind of sleep that leaves him feeling weightless and well rested, while it sort of felt like he just blinked.

it's good, and no nightmares roar their ugly heads.

he's content, happy, and dreaming only of a boy who meant the world to him, who showed him the galaxy in every way imaginable, and never realized that the only universe sam wanted was his.

knox prescott

his dreams don't house demons or acquaintances or friends. no, they're filled with colors. colors he's never seen before - that no human has seen before. honeycomb patterns and shaking leaves and a promise that greater things loom on the horizon. 

there is one thing, though. this burning sensation, like he's breathing embers. and it's neat, when his thoughts form concrete ideas, and he likens himself a dragon, but those embers are slick red, growing darker by the minute. 

he shifts in his sleep. the dawn light comes creeping in through his cracked blinds, creating a striking rectangle of light that winks onto sam's eyes. and knox sleeps on, dead to the world and to the blood pooling on sam's chest.

samuel carter

☉

wet warmth accompanied by a body stirring and the dawn's light wake sam. he's motionless at first, just absorbing the morning and the body within his arms. memories of the night flash into his mind and in return, he flashes a smile.

but the smile is interrupted when he feels something odd. on his chest. next to knox. he sits up only enough to look down, around knox, and when he sees blood coming from knox' nose his heart rate quickens.

it's not butterflies, it's panic. he moves the hand on knox to give his side a squeeze, nudging him.

"knox," his voice is groggy, he should have drank more water. "knox, your nose is bleeding."

knox prescott

for a few heartbeats, he doesn't stir. sam jostles him, but he's by all means dead to the world, lost in that in between place where dreams are almost real. but when he finally comes to, slowly and with salt on his lips, he can tell what's happened before sam's words actually register. 

he sits up to get his bearings and monkeys over sam, tripping over his still-wet pants that lay in a heap from last night. he curses as he slides, but he catches himself before he can fall and snags a box of tissues of his desk.

and then he disappears to his bathroom for a spell, door closing behind him. his phone rattles on his bureau but he's still half-asleep and he's more concerned with getting a wet towel so he can bring it to sam.

oh. right. sam. he blinks in the mirror, yawns with a shake of his head. with a wad of tissues balled and shoved into his face with one hand and the other on a warm towel, he re-emerges. 

"happens sometimes. allergies," he muffles. a lie, but it's one he's told so much he almost believes it's true. he goes to hand the towel to sam as he sits on the bed and then he relents and just goes about cleaning it up himself - gently, cautiously.

"you sleep okay?" he asks. his phone buzzes again. 

samuel carter

☉

as he's monkey'd over, he smiles. then knox nearly falls and he sits up-- but he doesn't get up, because knox rights himself. clearly he's not actually awake and all sam can think is that he looks a bit like hecate, his absol, when she's gotten too much sleep and is so groggy she walks into walls and doors.

it's cute.

he glances down at himself, then at the clothes knox had tripped on. he contemplates washing them but then knox is walking out and claiming allergies.

did... was it a joke or did knox think he was stupid?

and then knox is gently cleaning up the blood. sam puts a hand on knox' cheek and leans forward to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"is that what the kids are calling it these days? 'allergies?' interesting." a joke, a tease, shown by how he smiles and lacks judgment. "i..."

that's when it hits sam, it dawns on him. he glances at the rattling phone and ignores the messages or call, instead looking to the clock. he doesn't want to be invasive but he wants to know the time and his phone was, erm, somewhere.

"i slept, so, yeah, i slept okay."

he'd told knox about his insomnia and it was rare he got good sleep.

"must have been the company. thanks." for cleaning him up, for helping him sleep.

knox prescott

technically, knox did have pretty bad allergies as a kid, and was already prone to nosebleeds. the frequency of them had died down as he'd grown out of adolescence, but imagine one pollen-heavy spring when he delves into coke for the first time and would rather pretend his issues stem from the former than a crippling drug addiction. 

besides, it usually stopped within the hour when he woke. 

"you slept," he repeats, elated, because he's all-too familiar with sam's insomnia. he's usually a night owl regardless, but there have been times where knox has put off going to bed so he can stay up and keep him company in those lonely hours. 

"no, thank you," he says, softer now, as he finishes up cleaning sam's chest. he drops the towel to the ground and raises that hand to splay against sam's skin, feeling his heartbeat. "for staying."

he wants to offer him breakfast. he wants to smother him in kisses and shut the blinds and stave off the morning just a little bit longer. so he springs up and goes to the window and what he sees makes all the color drain from his face. 

supposed to be in sootopolis. he'd have had to left sometime in the middle of the night just to - fuck, fuck. and suddenly he knows why his phone's been ringing off the hook. he flits about, shoulders tense, not looking at sam, and just lights up his phone screen to see summer's name all over it when the disheveled queen herself breaks the hinges off his door. 

he cracks a wide smile because she knows he can't leave. their father needs a scapegoat and it can't be her. so he tosses his tissues in the trash and points to sam's pants. "make sure the maids don't throw that out. i'd like them cleaned and returned to mt. pyre." 

he points out the window. "he's already here, red, and he can't think this was your idea." and then he sighs.

then he leaves the window as the shape of his father emerges from his car. he kisses sam's forehead, hiding his dread as best he can, and holds out a hand. "c'mon. i might be able to sneak ya out before he wizens up."

samuel carter

☉

the hands across his chest feel divine. the way knox looks at him says everything, and sam's already moving a hand through his hair to wake himself up when knox raises and goes to close the window...but then, with the way knox freezes, sam's own body tenses. then he's looking at his phone, and sam clearly notices the panic.

"what's--" shit!

the curse is internal as a woman he'd fought a rotom with -- long story -- came barreling through the door. he knew the connection because he'd made it through deduction when knox said his last name was prescott, not fletcher, and her name was prescott as well.

he's a smart pickle. smart enough to catch onto the fact that these two had done something they weren't supposed to. the way knox immediately begins to sacrifice himself doesn't settle well with sam.

"why can't it just be an investment party?" that wouldn't be a total lie. it was a party in which sam had invested his time to come to because he wanted knox. "in exchange for services from mt. pyre for the entire prescott family, i requested an investment, and this party was advertisement in the best way the representative prescotts knew to give."

sam takes knox' hand, standing, but not willing to run away just yet.

"or, we all three teleport to mt. pyre. i could stay and give you a shield..."

he just wants to help, because even the morning after he's smitten.

knox prescott

an investment party. knox laughs, but it's at the idea of his father actually taking a moment to be duped. knox, unsettlingly at ease with the turn of events, is absorbed in his phone. he scrolls through pictures with geo-tags and realizes that they must have been on watch this entire time. he'd let the pair have their little shenanigans, but ever since the fallout . . . he should have seen this coming.

he pockets his phone as summer leaves the two of them alone in knox's room. he closes that distance between the two of them and gives him a kiss on the cheek. "she's right, you know. he's pretty terrible. at least you know where i get it from." 

he grabs a sweatshirt and sweatpants and tosses them both to sam, pulling on a pair of his own. "i didn't realize you'd brought your gardevoir. teleport out of here, okay? i'd rather he not see your face."

and then he grabs sam's hand and brushes a kiss against his knuckles. he grins and turns; the entryway door opens downstairs. she can always talk him down just a bit. i just gotta - 

she screams and his veins go cold. his confident saunter out of his bedroom turns into a full-blown run. he stumbles down the stairs and emerges to see a sight he's never thought he'd witness: his father has lain hands on summer, on his pride and joy, on she who can do no wrong. 

"ah, and so the prodigal son returns," he says. he drops his hold on summer and she falls like a sack of bricks. "imagine my surprise when marcus tells me two weeks ago that my darling girl is planning a party."

he steps around her and though every muscle in knox's body is screaming for him to flee, he stands his ground, stands straight with as much a shit-eating grin as he can manage. the man, who tower at least half a foot above knox, holds his hands out in a sign of peace. 

"and when he tells me that you are ordering him about, demanding your frivolities, spending our money as if it were your own. i thought to give you the benefit of the doubt," he says over his shoulder to summer, "but you come squealing to me at the door begging forgiveness while you house this disgrace, while you and this pathetic excuse for a son put our entire operation in jeopardy."

his voice booms as his temper rises. knox slouches to the side, seeks his courage to speak, but finds none. his feet are rooted to the ground as his father finally stops before him, fingering the ring on his hand. he sighs. 

"how you always let him worm his way back in, get his hooks in you, is beyond me, girl, but i'm willing to forgive you because this is, after all, my fault."

knox snorts. "what, you wanna say you're sorry to me n - " but knox doesn't get to finish what he's saying. 

in an instant, his father's arm has pulled back. he pushes all of his weight into a slug; fist connects to bone and there's an ugly snapping, splintering sound as his father's ring tears his flesh. blood spurts on the floor. knox rears his head, staggering, and another blow comes, this time striking him down.

a flat sound whistles in knox's ears. the pain is unbelievably unbearable. and more of it blossoms in his stomach. something cracks. he curls reflexively with a moan. 

and their father withdraws his pocket kerchief and scrubs the blood off of his hands with a scowl. "get out. and if you ever set foot in this house again, i will kill you, boy."

samuel carter

☉

sam is dismissed. this isn't his issue, he knows that. he's just... knox's sam, nothing else. he doesn't have the right or the means to step in. his ideas are dismissed and he's given clothes and told to teleport to safety.

but he doesn't leave just yet. he takes the ruckus as a cover to move about the room. he throws on the sweats and moves to listen at the door, releasing his gardevoir and giving a mental command to be silent.

she abides his request, waits, listens.

sam's blood is boiling. each movement causes sam to tense. he won't leave, not until he knows that knox is safe. then he'll teleport away, he'll do as knox requests of him. but he doesn't want to pace around mt. pyre senselessly waiting for knox to send him a text.

or worse, for mr. prescott to give him a call and arrange a funeral. though, from the sounds of it, there wouldn't be one arranged.

the situation is complicated and sam doesn't pretend to know it well enough to take sides. but he does, despite not having all the angles, despite picking what he assumes is the losing side; he sides with knox. and with that, he waits, quietly with his hand on his gardevoir, allowing her to keep her telepathy branched out so that she can sense if he needs to leave, if his life is in danger.

truth be told, if he's been there the whole night then security cameras have his face already. he's not worried about being seen. he's worried about being alone again.

he doesn't want to lose his life; he doesn't want to lose knox.

knox prescott