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Last night was such a dream. And he was living it. He couldn’t believe he got lucky — was it because he had been somewhat kinder to people around him the past months, kinder even to himself? Even though he had a momentary lapse the past days because of the text messages, he had been taking care of himself well, compared to the first months living on his own. He even took the initiative to call his parents first. Was this a holiday blessing? Did he deserve this happiness? He couldn’t decide.
But Maddison was innately a selfish person so he would bask in this happiness. After years of suffering in silence, Maddison was genuinely happy. A breath of the freshest air.
He smiled, his eyelashes fluttering as he finally opened his eyes, his body facing the window. It was gloomy outside — a drizzly Christmas morning. The rain seemed to have overtaken the snow overnight and instead of snowflakes, raindrops splattered his window. Gray morning light peaked into the blinds, enough so his dim room could be seen without the fluorescent in the ceiling. The weather outside greatly contrasted with how warm Maddison was feeling.
He turned to his other side, and froze.
It was way past midnight when they decided to sleep. They talked a lot last night; catching up on things they missed about each other — play by play matches, descriptions of new pieces and series, the shows they’d watched without the other, albums they discovered on their own; old friends in Hillwood and new ones in Wellspring; their parents; room renovations; the tiniest, most insignificant things. It filled Maddison’s heart to the brim, seconds from bursting. And the kisses and touches they shared were beyond what Maddison had imagined them to be. They were too much yet not enough. Maddison would always, always want so much more.
Last night was such a dream.
It was a nightmare.
Because Sam was not there. He was never there.
It took a while before his brain could process it. Sam wasn’t there. The space beside Maddison, where Sam laid just last night, strong arm over Maddison’s waist as he kissed Maddison goodnight, was cold. Empty.
He couldn’t move, at first.
He was imagining it. He had finally gotten insane and conjured Sam out of his imagination. How could he let himself lose his wits and allowed his imagination to run wild, he couldn’t explain to himself. The overwhelming joy he felt minutes ago was now rendered pointless. He felt horrified at himself.
Did he really think Sam would come running to him on a cold, winter night just to confess his love for him? Did he really believe Sam would ever, ever reciprocate his feelings? Maddison might be a fool, but his friend was not. Sam would never see him as more than that, a friend. Maddison was an idiot.
He didn’t realize he stopped breathing until his chest tightened and he struggled to gasp through his mouth, tears falling on the bridge of his nose down to his temple, soaking the pillow. His grip on the sheet tensed as he forced himself to take deep breaths, eyes wide in disbelief and mouth open in silent cries.
When he thought his breathing somewhat normalized, he sat up and hugged his knees. Trying his best to stop the buzzing in his ears and the panic from rising up again, he placed his forehead on top of his knees, closed his eyes and counted to ten. He tried his best but it was futile.
Body rocking from his cries that were getting louder and louder, Maddison was fighting to get control over his tears and his breaths. He couldn’t hear himself over the sound of his heart breaking. Again. And again. And again.
Everything felt real. Last night felt real. Sammy’s voice and Sammy’s warmth. All the stories he told Maddison. How did Maddison even begin to come up with all those? None of those things were real. Maddison never felt more pathetic. He sobbed harder, tears and spits and snot all over his face but he couldn’t care less — he was loud and shaking, he was cold and heartbroken.
Even after ten minutes that felt like hours, Maddison hadn’t stopped crying, his voice raw and his hair messy, scalp aching from all his pulling. His chest heaved as he looked outside the window, at the rain as it continued to pour, wind howling. A storm. It was perfect for what he was feeling.
He almost didn’t hear the door opening, the rain and his cries a little deafening for his ears. When he turned, everything stopped. His breathing, his tears. His heart.
“Mads? What…?” Sam.
Sam. Sam was standing there, by Maddison’s door, umbrella in one hand, wet brown bags hugged against his chest in the other. The door clicked close behind him.
Before Maddison could even comprehend what was happening, Sam was running towards him, umbrella and bags dropped to the floor. Calloused hands cupped Maddison’s cheeks and intense green eyes searched his face. He felt a thumb brushed against wet cheek. Maddison was struggling to breathe again.
“Maddison? What’s going on?” Sam said. He looked so real. Maddison stared at him. Even in apparition, Sam was beautiful, despite the worry lines forming on his forehead. “Why are you crying?”
“Sammy,” Maddison croaked.
“Don’t cry,” Sam said in a hushed tone very much unlike himself, before getting on the bed and wrapping his arms around Maddison’s shaking body. Maddison pressed his face on his neck. “Don’t cry.”
“You’re so warm, Sammy,” Maddison said, words muffled by Sam’s shoulder. “And I’m so pathetic. Depending on my imagination like this.” Another sob.
“What are you talking about?” Sam started to pull away but Maddison hugged him tighter, not wanting to face him. He didn’t want to embarrass himself further in front of Sam — even if he was just a hallucination.
“No. Please don’t,” Maddison said. “Even in my imagination, you’re so warm.”
“Maddison, what are you saying?” Sam asked again, and when he pulled away this time he successfully managed to do so. Was he supposed to be this strong? He was gripping Maddison’s shoulders and looking at him, demanding his answer.
Maddison shook his head.
“Oi, dork, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
