&& REVENGE IS THE SWEETEST LOVE ;; SAMSON

Samson couldn’t be excited for the outting with Jolene, not with how he felt right then. Excited was the furthest emotion from what he was feeling. More like unhappy, devastated, any other word with negative connotations. The girl he loved had cheated on him, he had every right to feel what he was feeling. Or so he thought. He didn’t ask Harley anything, didn’t question her about the accusations. The text had struck him hard enough that common sense like that had fled him, replaced by anger and hurt and quite a few things he’d never felt before. He honestly believed he’d loved Harley—and he still did. But the feelnigs weren’t returned, and he was in the process of dealing with that.

He decided he should walk to Timmies. He didn’t have a choice, after all. No car and now no girlfriend. Life fucking sucked, and that’s what he focused on as he walked down with his hands in his pockets. It was a long walk, but his tormented mind kept him busy. He tried not to think of Harley, though, tried not to think of her smile, those lips, and the way she always seemed to know the right thing to say to him. Just walk. Boys don’t cry, Samson didn’t cry. He didn’t really show emotion, even though he felt it. A lot of it. And it scared him.

Walking into the coffee shop, he didn’t pull his usual trolling antics with pointing at the menu and confusing the poor clerk. He just ordered a black coffee, and looked around to see if Jolene was there. She was, looking pretty, but not pretty like Harley. Because that girl was beautiful. He slid in across from the girl, took out his phone and texted his greeting. ”How are you doing?” He sipped at the coffee, looking out the window. It gave the air of disinterest, but he really was focused on her. Half-way, at least. The other half was still on the redhead he left at the lake. The redhead who betrayed him. Yep, life sucked balls.

Samson by now was hoping that maybe Jolene could take his mind off things. In his experience, she was a nice girl, better than some he’d associated with in the past. And she’d never given any reason for him to dislike her. And because of the fact he really didn’t have too many friends—thanks, muteness—he was pretty damn loyal to them. Is that why Harley’s betrayal hurt so much? That was definitely a part of it. Even if he didn’t count the fact that he was in love with her, there was also the fact that he trusted her and relied on her, even if he didn’t show it. Maybe I should have? After all, since a lot of his relationships went bad, he had to figure it was his fault. Or maybe he just knew how to choose them.

Jolene spoke to him sympathetically, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to talk. He didn’t know which stage of grief he was at, but it was somewhere around anger and whatever this stupid feeling in his gut was. ”I’ll be fine,” the boy reassured over text. No, he didn’t think he would be right now. But why get his friends mixed up in his problems? Well actually, she had been the one to break the news to him. ”Really, thanks for that. I wish I’d gotten news of it sooner.” It wouldn’t have saved him the heartbreak, but it definitely would save him from feeling like a fool, thinking Harley was still in love with him. More than anything, he knew he was idiotic. He gave his heart over too easily, he guessed, and there were old wounds he had yet to stitch up and learn from.

He rolled his eyes when she called him ‘Sammy’, the destable nickname only Beatrice was allowed to use—and of course, he would have allowed his girlfriend. Would have. ”You know how I don’t like that,” he texted, but the smile—small and one that could be confused with a smirk—spoke of genuine appreciation for her support. ”Guess I do need my friends, huh.” He wasn’t going to get all sentimental and gushy, because the Thunder student didn’t do that, but he honestly did like have a close-knit circle of friends when things went bad for him. When relationships went through, like with Harley. ”I need something to keep my mind off it. Got any ideas?” He didn’t know what it could be, but he needed to get out of this mood and now.

Even though he’d just broken up with the girl for cheating on him, the slander against Harley twisted his gut. He had to get over that. She was an actress, she had pretended to love him when she really didn’t. It wasn’t like the girl was lying. But once you have such intense feelnigs for someone, it was hard to just forget about them. No, it was pretty much impossible. But he needed to. For his own health so that he didn’t drive himself mad, he needed to get the girl out of his mind. He didn’t know how, but eventually he would forget about Harley and her hands and her smile and her eyes and the way she could read him better than anyone he knew… Yeah, he could forget that right?

Jolene was making it better, at least. She really was a nice girl. Especially for a Fire student. Yes, you really know how to choose them. Why Fire chicks? They might have been the worse lot to pick from. Harley wasn’t, he automatically defended, but she was. She was. And so he focused his mind on the girl and her relentless teasing. ”I might have ot do something about it,” he texted out, dry tone conveyed through his owrd choice. You figured out how to do that sort of thing over time, and he’d had a lot of time. Just joke it off. All he had to do was make pretend and everything would be better.

Samson snorted, actually snorted, so soon after finding out that Harley had deceived him. And then he wrote out, ”I wouldn’t mind getting drunk at all. Maybe without the tattoos though. Wouldn’t want to tarnish my skin.” He rolled his eyes. It was long-winded, an attempt to actually move on. Getting drunk with Jolene? Why the fuck not? Well, you really do need sleep, the more rational part of his mind told him, the one that apparently didn’t comprehend his grief. Curiously, he asked Jolene, ”Did you have anything planned before meeting up with me?”

Bring it? Samson started to lean in, and then stopped. What the fuck was he doing? Was he seriously considering flirting with Jolene just after breaking up with Harley? Maybe. Maybe he just needed the distraction, to move on. And would that make Jolene his rebound? Well, he didn’t want to think too hard on it. He didn’t want to think too hard at all. That’s when the pain came full force, when everything bubbled to the surface. Sam wanted the numbness—Jolene would be that numbness. She’d make him forget. Oh, but she could never be Harley .There wasn’t another Harley. That’s supposed to be a good thing. His stomach clenched, and he simply thumbed at his coffee, running a finger along the rim of the lid.

Samson took his finger away from the coffee and texted, ”I am completely serious.” He was texting with a smile, but he meant it. He wasn’t a partier usually, no, but tonight he wanted to go to a house with strangers he didn’t know with Jolene and just…forget. ”Then we’ll see how the night goes.” He shouldn’t have been doing this. He shouldn’t have been flirting, or even giving those tiny smiles in signature Samson fashion. He should have been eating Ben and Jerry’s and watching Lifetime. Or something that people did after breaking up. What did he usually do? Lock himself in his room and watch horror flicks.

Why is even unpacking reminding him of his girlfriend? His ex-girlfriend. Jesus, I need to get my shit together. Really, if he kept going like this he’d just turn into a puddle of depression. And Samson didn’t get depressed. Sure, he gave off all appearances of quietnesss—how could he give any other impression?—but that didn’t mean he was sad all the time. Far from it. Especially when he was with—Stop it. ”I could help, if you have anthing left.” No, don’t help her, you’re supposed to suffer. But the part of his mind that wanted this numbness overtook him and texted out the words he was showing to Jolene. He could do this. It wouldn’t be hard if he just fucking forgot.

Had he partied lately? No, he couldn’t say. He wasn’t the partying type, after all. Sure, he’d go with his friends but he wasn’t a crazy partier or anything. Samson wasn’t the social type at all, and for apparent reasons. Not like he could really impress a crowd or flirt with girls with his disability. Well, he didn’t need to flirt with girls. He had Harley, somehow landed the girl who’d once been his other half, and now… And now. Nothing. That was all he could think.

He waited while Jolene texted someone, pressing random buttons on his own phone. A…1….r…2… Distractions, distractions. If he stopped focusing his mind on the blond across from him, another girl would come floating back into his head and would destroy him completely. He lifted his eyes when he saw that she was checking her wallet. Erasing the previous random numbers and letters from the screen, he typed in, ”What’s up?” He wondered if this was how Harley had been feeling when he’d been texting Jolene. Actually, it must have been worse, having your boyfriend ignore you. Maybe I should have confronted her. No. She was the wrong one here. Besides, Samson wasn’t good with confrontation. He couldn’t express his anger through his voice, couldn’t yell or beg or plead with Harley. He was good at simply…walking away. Which is what he did.

Samson lifted his eyebrows, shock apparent in his green irises. ”A hundred bucks?” Well, it wasn’t like Beatrice paid him more than that, but it was still quite a lot of money to blow on partying. Or maybe that was just him. He wasn’t the kind to go wilding out every night. His money went towar antiques, food, dates with Har—Stop right there, dumbass. He really needed to get better control. Or lose control. ”When we finish up here, we can go out then.” Sam’s lips once more twitched up into a smile. Unfortunately, drinking never put him into the best mindset. But he needed something. His gaze stayed on Jolene. Something.

Samson lifted his eyebrows, but then shook his head with a smile. What was he doing, really? He should be wearing black and mourning his lost relationship. But he didn’t do it that way, it seemed. Even when he was betrayed. ”She’ll be cool with it,” he assured Jolene through text. Beatrice was equivocal to the cool mom stereotype. Only a little bit more…off. How will she react to the that Harley cheated on him? Would he tell her? He usually waited to inform her of these things in his life, but she had Spider-Man sense when it came to him. Surely he would tell that something happened between he and Harley. Or rather, nothing happened since he didn’t say anything about it. I’m going to have to break up with her, aren’t I? He didn’t know if he had the balls to do that. He didn’t know how he could face the girl and not feel the things he knew he shouldn’t be feeling.

He stood, and only hesitated a moment before taking Jolene’s hand. You’re a whore, Sam, a dispproving voice in his head mocked. But he ignored that voice, like he ignored everything else except Jolene. She was going to make this right, she had to. And that’s what spurred him into taking her to his house. When he entered through the door of the shop, the tinkling of a bell sounding his announcement, he saw Beatrice seated at the counter with her flat iron, trying to straighten her frizzy hair as usual. She cast a glance over to the two, legs propped up on the counter, before taking a double take when she saw Jolene. ”Oh, and who are you, young missy?” she asked cheerfully, before remembering that a phone was cradled between her shoulder and her ear. ”No, not you!” she said into the receiver. She hung up and stood, briskly walking over to Jolene and taking the girl’s hand in both of hers. ”I’m Beatrice, and if you don’t know, I am Sammy’s master.” She cast him her usual mischevious smile, and he responded with his deadpan stare. Dear lord, she could be overbearing.


[no worries. <33]

Samson realized that his ‘mother’ could be quite strange, but he didn’t realize that Jolene may have ulterior motives with what to do to her. If he liked a person, he chose to see the best in them. And he liked Jolene, he considered her a pretty decent friend. It was one of his trappings when he was in a relationship. He gave his heart over a little too easily—call it naïve, but he chose to believe in love. Of course, he would never admit this to anyone. He was not supposed to be softhearted, and he really wasn’t. He didn’t write girls poems, or sing to him because…well, he couldn’t do the latter. He chose to show his love in his own way. And he wondered if he just wasn’t good enough. Harley cheated on him, after all, so it had to be something about him. It wasn’t just one girl, it was all the girls. And he just lost the one he felt mattered most.

Luckily, the redheaded psycho managed to wrench him from his thoughts as she said with an air of great dramatics, ”It’s a pleasure, dear Jolene. Jolene, Jolene Jolene…” And Beatrice started off singing as Samson simply stared at her with the deadpan he usually used for her. When Jolene started again, however, Beatrice raised her eyebrow and ducked her head a bit. Samson recognized it as one of sly looks. But he didn’t know for what. ”Oh, he’s just happy all the time. Look at that winning smile.” She tilted her head and he kept his face straight even still, blinking at Beatrice as she laughed. ”So could I interest you in something, Jolene, Jolene?” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the stairs, and Beatrice waved him away, picking up the phone and continuing her conversation. Samson turned to the girl and winked, leading the way up to his room. The hallway was dark and led off to the bathroom and Beatrice’s room, all packed tightly together.

It was not too much, and everything from his dresser to his bed to the entertainment center was antique. On the night stand, he had a few souvenirs from Newfoundland and a picture of his parents. He went to turn on the lamp which cast an eerie red glow and made the place feel rather creepy. The entire shop was meant to be creepy, actually. ”So what do you want to do?” he texted out for Jolene to see, letting her take the lead.