here is his own absolution. sam doesn't know the monstrosities he's forgiving knox for. it makes his heart hurt, because he wants it so badly - to forgive himself above all else, but he knows he doesn't deserve it. 

but sam isn't telling him he has to be good. he's saying he'll take him as he is. broken and busted parts and all. 

and for now, that's enough. so knox smiles back and lifts his hands, cradles his face, and says it not just because sam needs to hear it, but he needs to hear it too. so he can feel it, all of it. 

"i love you too, by the way."

samuel carter

☉

the way knox touches his face has sam giving knox his full attention. not that he didn't have it before, but every portion of his mind is zeroing in on whatever it is knox has to say. because knox demands his attention when he gives sam eyes like that.

honest blue eyes.

but that was not what he had been expecting. he had kept the notion in his mind that knox may never say those words back to him. for various reasons that all go crashing into the depths of his mind when he realizes the truth and honesty in knox' tone.

and his smile is back. in full force. it causes his face to form laugh lines, his eyes to water, and his heart to sing. sam allows himself to feel it and the way he feels it ... is good.

"yeah?"

his hand raises to touch the ones against his face, the one on knox' chin having fallen to his lap is raised up to hold the hands on his face as well.

knox prescott

he's stuck in his head, seeing all the things that have brought him to this point. and despite sam's smile, the tender way he's holding him, he still has his doubts. he means every word, yes, but this is opening another door he's terrified to walk through. 

because he's starting to realize that to care this much about someone means you have to care about yourself. 

"yeah," he says. his thumb moves in circles on sam's cheek. he leans forward, kisses his forehead, and then presses their foreheads together, so all he can see are sam's eyes. 

his smile finally breaks through. "i didn't want to say no while you were freaking out, but it's not blue. my favorite color, i mean. used to be. now it's gold." he blinks. "like your eyes."

samuel carter

☉

the weight of knox' forehead is like a security blanket around his soul. but even more, are the words that come from knox' mouth. honesty, confessions.

those golden eyes move to look at knox' own ocean blue.

"gold, like my eyes, got it." he memorizes the color and tucks it away, keeps it in his mind for when he sees anything gold, to give to knox. "i didn't care about favorite colors before i met you."

but now?

"i still can't pick one though. they all remind me of you."

if knox asked, he'd explain. but for now, he lets the notion linger.

knox prescott

and at this, he laughs. sam finally makes him laugh. "why's that? am i a rainbow because i'm hella gay?" and suddenly all is right in the world. he still feels like shit and like there's a chance if he falls asleep, he'll turn into sleeping beauty, never to wake again. 

except sam will be his prince charming and wake him when need be. 

his stomach takes the chance to remind him that he has needs to attend to. so he kisses sam's nose again and puts some space between them so he can grab the bowl of soup. 

it shouldn't taste good. because it's cold soup. but he could eat dirt at this point and he'd claim it were the best meal he's ever had. he tries very hard not to wolf it down. he only allows himself a couple of spoonfuls before putting it back up on the nightstand. 

he shivers. "can i have my hoodie? or did you put it in the wash? i'm fucking freezing." 

and then his stomach, who'd been begging for hours and days to give it something, revolts. knox tastes orange peel in the back of his mouth - a telltale sign - and he trips up and over sam, into the bathroom, where the measly spoonfuls make a grand exit back out. 

he dry heaves a little while longer and then spent, slumps back down. it's going to be a long night. 

samuel carter

☉

when knox asks for the hoodie sam is quickly to glance around while he recalls, and then he nods because yes it's in the was he needs to switch around. he pulls his hoodie off, knox' past hoodie, and sets it on the bed for knox to take before moving to get up-- but knox is running past him and tripping over him practically on his way to the bathroom.

sam is at a loss once again.

knox said he wanted to do this part alone, the puking into a toilet. but he never really said why. so sam stands up and walks over to the washer, where he was heading when knox tripped over him, and he begins to switch the load of laundry around. he starts the dryer and looks out at the pond, keldeo is laying within peacefully.

he gets some water and heads to the bathroom, but stops before he can be see in the doorway and knocks upon the doorframe.

"...can i come in?"

knox prescott

he checks it. no blood. he flushes. he checks his nose. no blood there either. he leans against the wall and tilts his head back. he listens to sam move around in the bedroom, messing with the washer and dryer. the dryer starts and knox thinks he might throw up again, but there's nothing to come up, so he swallows the feeling and rolls his tongue against the awful taste in his mouth. 

should've asked him to grab some spearmint gum or something. 

he hears water running. footsteps. sam's knock on the door. and then he sighs. because he really doesn't want to be alone. 

"only if you have my hoodie," he says teasingly, but mostly he just sounds tired.

samuel carter

☉

"not yet but, hang on."

bless his soul, he sets the glass of water in the doorway in case knox wants it and heads towards the bed, to pick up the hoodie that had been ignored. then he makes his way back over and takes the glass, and the hoodie, and holds the hoodie out for knox.

"your new hoodie is in the dryer, so if you mess this one i can go get the other one and just was it."

knox prescott

sam stands over him and he takes the hoodie gratefully. he slips it on and, of course, it doesn't really chase the cold away. but it's a nice comfort, and he shows his appreciation by wrapping his arms around himself and by saying, "if you really want to sleep in here with me, i don't mind. i want you close." 

he hesitates. "i'm not going to sleep until i keep something down. and, well, the next few days are going to be rough, too. i dumped everything." he drops his gaze, looks sideways at the toilet. 

"your mythical horse can attest to that. which, by the way - are we going to talk about that?"

samuel carter

☉

watching knox pull the hoodie on and still shiver has sam feeling like he should try and find some kind of home remedy to help. so he pads out, to grab a throw blanket that his mother made him(look he has something in common with moro!) and his pillow.

he pushes the pillow between his teeth and snatches up their phones, setting knox' down near him before laying the pillow down against the wall behind knox. he takes a seat against it, then moves the blanket and sits in a way that knox can lay against him if he'd like, but could still lean up and lerch into the toilet if need be.

"we can. i haven't brought it up because i didn't think it was pertinent." but if knox wanted to talk about it, he doesn't mind.

"keldeo, water fighting type. broken horn, i know that much. beyond that, the pokémon is a mystery. i haven't had the time to look into myths or legends behind it. i know only that it's not from hoenn's region. i don't even know why it showed up. though i have an assumption that it's something to do with either slateport, or with groudon. though it could have absolutely nothing to do with either and have a danger all its own to deal with."

sam shrugged while googling.

knox prescott

he doesn't believe me. that's why sam doesn't sing his praises. that's why sam doesn't say i'm proud of you or good, i'm glad. he doesn't give him the validation because he knows, he knows that this will amount to nothing. because he knows knox. knox grits his teeth and thinks, simultaneously, i'll show you and you're right. 

he grapples with this while sam becomes a literal pokedex. and he wants to ask sam to get back up, please, and get his soup from the nightstand, but whatever he's googling is far more important than backing him up on getting clean, nevermind helping him get through the part to get there. 

don't think like that. insecurities trample over rational thought and he parses through them as he stands, albeit shakily. 

he disappears for a moment to grab the soup, a bottle of pedialyte, and the bag containing all of his pokeballs. when he comes back, he sits back down with a heavy thud, nearly sloshing the soup out of the bowl. 

"it's probably on edge around all your ghosts," he says. some of knox's water and electric types still don't get along. body language and behavioural differences tend to result in some of his water-types getting the short end of the stick. 

"i dunno much about keldeo, but i know water-types. they're usually pretty social. it might get along with some of them." he points to the bag. 

he swallows a gulp of the pedialyte and takes another bite of soup.

samuel carter

☉

sam is not aware that knox is sulking. he was aware that knox got up, and he listens to the noises that are made when knox gets up to try and figure out what he's doing. when he returns, sam moves his hands out, to help steady knox, his phone dropped on the tile in the process.

"you should have asked me to get that..." the phone shows that he was looking for home remedies to different kinds of withdraws, several tabs are open, along with online carts from lilycove pharmacies for him to pick up at some point, times not picked.

he cares not about keldeo's comfort when knox is busy having withdraws.

"have you ever tried to take meclizine or dimenhydrinate for your nausea? it says they can make you drowsy, but you're already drowsy, so i don't see why you can't take them."

knox prescott

"you were busy," he says and tries his damndest not to sound hurt. when sam's phone clatters to the ground, he snoops and peers at the screen. and then feels like an idiot. oh. 

"no?" he says. "look, sam. don't break the bank getting a bunch of shit for me to take." because it won't be worth it and it'll only make me feel more guilty when i'm inevitably back on my bullshit. "i've gone cold turkey before. it'll just be the next few days that suck and then we're golden." 

don't lie to him, knox. you'll be scratching and itching and all those thoughts will come back. he'll come back. he shrugs and takes another sip. 

samuel carter

☉