knox looks over his shoulder when sam's fingers come forward to grace his jaw. he leans into the touch and looks up through his lashes, willing these words to stick. willing them to carry him through those long, dark hours where no one is there to pull him from the memories. 

but the video's gone now, that incessant need to torture himself with ollie's death. maybe, now, he can heal. 

"you're an insufferable optimist, you know that?" he says with a sigh because sam has finally worn him down. anxieties soothed for now, he leans back into him, turns so he can nestle in sam's arms and nose his collarbone.

"my sam. your knox," he mumbles. 

samuel carter

☉

“my knox, your sam.”

he confirms their promise. four words. of comfort, passion, proud possession, and optimistic wonder. the words that help them through the harder and darker times. if they can be remembered.

sam ignored the fact that they are practically sticky with sweat and smell of chlorine. instead of getting up to shower, he holds knox in his arms and rotated enough to lay down with him. to wrap himself around his knox and hold him close.

he hopes he’s willed the monsters and nightmares away. he hopes knox can actually sleep tonight.

“no matter where we are and no matter what i am doing, if you need me, promise you’ll call me?”

[attr="class","sambr"] knox prescott