John had also rebooked a session with Miles, the therapist he saw a few months ago, and was giving it a real shot this time. He knew his job was challenging and he knew Wyatt could handle almost anything, but therapy was more for John, and what he appreciated most about his sessions with Miles was the emotional processing component. It was a safe place to just let everything out and begin to understand himself better. He learned that dark thoughts were normal, and physicians often need a lot of support due to the trauma that occurs while working in emergency medicine.
John was working on accepting help, and it felt good, most of the time. But there were some days when he still wanted to hide. Maybe that’s why he was so focused on Samuels, because he understood his friend far more than he realized. Selfishly, too, John wanted to see him happy. So yeah, if he had to stand here all night, he would.
“Don’t evade the question,” John said, relaxing against the lockers and folding his arms across his chest.
Samuels sighed, “All right, fine. I’m avoiding home because of a certain… friend.”
“Just friends?”
“Unfortunately,” Samuels grumbled.
“For…?”
“Me,” Samuels said it casually, yet John heard the faint trace of emotion laced in his tone.
Wyatt had been right. Samuels had run from love, just like Wyatt saidhewould’ve done if John hadn’t loved him back.
“Mostly me,” Samuels continued, clearing his throat. “Though he’d probably argue that he loved me, but as a brother.”
“And that isn’t enough?” John asked knowingly.
Samuels looked uncharacteristically defeated. “Fifteen years is a long time to hold out hope for something that will never happen.”
“Jesus, Samuels, I’m sorry. That’s rough.” John stared at his friend, searching his face and knowing he was in pain. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
John kicked his feet out to the side, getting even more comfortable against the metal lockers, “Nope.”
Samuels huffed, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, his body tense in comparison. Clearly, this conversation made his friend uncomfortable, but much like Samuels, he seemed to bear it well. He wondered how much he could tolerate, and if that was a good thing—or not.
“So, what happened?” John asked. “Something must have happened for you to be here.”
“I kissed him,” Samuels stated simply, without the slightest remorse.
John arched his eyebrows, impressed, and then thought about Wyatt, knowing what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of those surprisingly passionate kisses. And if Samuels had fifteen years of pent-up emotions, he could only imagine what kind of explosive kiss that was for his “friend”.
“That’s it?” John teased.
Samuels glowered. “It was akisskiss.”
Yeah, he thought, he knew exactly what he meant. It was the kind of kiss that ruined a person. Destroyed them for the next person. And Samuels had done it to his best friend.
“And it was at the worst fuckin’ moment possible. It was at my grandpa’s funeral,” Samuels admitted.
John blinked, “Okay, so… what’d he do? Hit you?”
Samuels let out a huff through his nostrils. “No, unfortunately. Instead, I somehow induced paralysis, which, thinking back, makes sense. He couldn’t exactly slug me at my grandpa’s funeral. And I haven’t seen him since.”
“LA’s pretty far from Boston, from what I hear.”
“Yeah, it is.” Samuels shifted, yanking his backpack out of his locker. “Are we done with the interrogation?”
John smiled, hands shooting up defensively. “Yes, we are. Sorry. Dinner’s at six. My mother likes roses, any color, and my dad likes whiskey, any kind.”
Samuels smirked and nodded, “See you later.”
John turned to him, “Can I just say something?”
