Guilt
1
“Hello, Erik,” Samuel says, cracking the 'k' with deliberate force. He's annoyed, but there is still some trace of concern left in his voice, if Erik digs enough to find it.
“I-I can't sleep,” Erik says, his voice harsh from lack of use.
“So you call me.” Erik can hear the smirk in his voice. “The only person you know that's sure to be asleep right now.”
Erik feels his face burn. Of course, nearly any of their friends would be better right now, but the only person he wants is Samuel. He wants more than just a phone call, a sleepy conversation that will inevitably end with Samuel falling asleep, leaving nothing on the line but the soft sound of him breathing. He wants Samuel there with him, curled up next to him and moving slightly in his sleep, but not enough to disturb either of them.
Samuel signs when Erik doesn't reply. “What's wrong?”
“I've been worrying. About you. About us,” he half mumbles.
It's Samuel's turn to be silent, but Erik doesn't worry because it's late, and Samuel has likely drifted into sleep, just has Erik has expected him to.
"I mean --"
"I'm sorry."
They say it at the same time, Erik meekly and Samuel pleading. The sudden burst leaves both of them silent, and Samuel, not Erik this time but Samuel, speaks up.
"I'm sorry," he says again. "For making you worry. I don't want you to worry about me."
Erik sighs, says he can't help it, runs a hand through his hair as he stands up to shuffle over to his closet.
"You're not going to fuck this up," Samuel says. "You've already gotten your fuck-up quota in with me, don't you think?"
The words sting Erik, but he deserves it. he deserves so much more from Samuel, who should scorn him for past mistakes, not welcome him so easily into his bed. Erik shouldn't have that luxury, some other boy should be sleeping next to Samuel right now.
"I just don't want to lose you. I don't deserve you anyway, after everything I..." Erik trails off and pulls a coat on, struggling to keep from dropping the phone.
“I love you,” Samuel says softly, just barely loud enough for Erik to hear.
“I love you too,” Erik says, hesitating just a few seconds, making sure that he heard Samuel correctly.
“You're going out for a smoke, aren't you?” Samuel asks, half annoyance, half boredom. As if nothing had just happened at all.
“Yeah.”
“Should've done that before you woke me up.”
“I did,” Erik answers as he slides the porch door closed behind himself. “Had three. Gave it another hour. Still worried.”
Samuel doesn't say anything again, and it makes Erik worry more because what if that 'I love you' wasn't real after all? Maybe he just imagined it? He wouldn't put it past his sleep deprived and anxious subconscious to make something like that up. Or maybe Samuel just fell asleep, like he always does, every damn time that Erik talks to him. What if Samuel sleeps so much around him because –
“You can come over. You just had to ask,” Samuel says. “I knew you wanted to since you called. I just wanted to see if you would ask.”
“Dammit Sam,” Erik says, but not in anger. He can't harbour any anger toward Samuel, perfect, forgiving Samuel.
“So should I drag my sorry ass out of bed to unlock the door for you or what?”
Erik puts the cigarette out on the railing and flicks the butt into the yard. “Yeah,” he says. “I'll be there in a few minutes.”
“I-I can't sleep,” Erik says, his voice harsh from lack of use.
“So you call me.” Erik can hear the smirk in his voice. “The only person you know that's sure to be asleep right now.”
Erik feels his face burn. Of course, nearly any of their friends would be better right now, but the only person he wants is Samuel. He wants more than just a phone call, a sleepy conversation that will inevitably end with Samuel falling asleep, leaving nothing on the line but the soft sound of him breathing. He wants Samuel there with him, curled up next to him and moving slightly in his sleep, but not enough to disturb either of them.
Samuel signs when Erik doesn't reply. “What's wrong?”
“I've been worrying. About you. About us,” he half mumbles.
It's Samuel's turn to be silent, but Erik doesn't worry because it's late, and Samuel has likely drifted into sleep, just has Erik has expected him to.
"I mean --"
"I'm sorry."
They say it at the same time, Erik meekly and Samuel pleading. The sudden burst leaves both of them silent, and Samuel, not Erik this time but Samuel, speaks up.
"I'm sorry," he says again. "For making you worry. I don't want you to worry about me."
Erik sighs, says he can't help it, runs a hand through his hair as he stands up to shuffle over to his closet.
"You're not going to fuck this up," Samuel says. "You've already gotten your fuck-up quota in with me, don't you think?"
The words sting Erik, but he deserves it. he deserves so much more from Samuel, who should scorn him for past mistakes, not welcome him so easily into his bed. Erik shouldn't have that luxury, some other boy should be sleeping next to Samuel right now.
"I just don't want to lose you. I don't deserve you anyway, after everything I..." Erik trails off and pulls a coat on, struggling to keep from dropping the phone.
“I love you,” Samuel says softly, just barely loud enough for Erik to hear.
“I love you too,” Erik says, hesitating just a few seconds, making sure that he heard Samuel correctly.
“You're going out for a smoke, aren't you?” Samuel asks, half annoyance, half boredom. As if nothing had just happened at all.
“Yeah.”
“Should've done that before you woke me up.”
“I did,” Erik answers as he slides the porch door closed behind himself. “Had three. Gave it another hour. Still worried.”
Samuel doesn't say anything again, and it makes Erik worry more because what if that 'I love you' wasn't real after all? Maybe he just imagined it? He wouldn't put it past his sleep deprived and anxious subconscious to make something like that up. Or maybe Samuel just fell asleep, like he always does, every damn time that Erik talks to him. What if Samuel sleeps so much around him because –
“You can come over. You just had to ask,” Samuel says. “I knew you wanted to since you called. I just wanted to see if you would ask.”
“Dammit Sam,” Erik says, but not in anger. He can't harbour any anger toward Samuel, perfect, forgiving Samuel.
“So should I drag my sorry ass out of bed to unlock the door for you or what?”
Erik puts the cigarette out on the railing and flicks the butt into the yard. “Yeah,” he says. “I'll be there in a few minutes.”