BEAUTY FROM PAIN ;; [Samson]

Samson knew he was in a predicament. A huge predicament. It was all he could think of as he sat in the Thunder common room, rubbing his forehead with a hand. It’s quiet, he thought off-handedly. There was a girl sitting on a cushiony loveseat and reading, a guy on his laptop, and between the three, not a word was spoken. Such was the condition of the Thunder elementals. They weren’t close-knit at all, not like their Fire allies, and rather liked to keep to himself. He really did belong there. Probably why he found it so nice to stay in the dorms, even though Beatrice’s shop was more of a home. Or rather, he felt like the child of divorce, switching between two homes. He was sure the other two students could not see his discomfort, his antsiness. He crossed his ankles, long legs stretching out, but couldn’t find anything else to do with himself. The Academy was still closed for winter break, so there was really nothing for him to do.

Except visit Harley. He felt a twist in his chest, as if someone wrapped their fingers around it and wrung it out like a rag. He didn’t know what to do about her, about Jolene, about this suspicion. He wanted answers, and neither of them had told him anything. Therefore, he didn’t know who to believe. Your girlfriend, one side argued, even though the other side told him that he should be trusting the girl he knew he still loved. He felt like an asshole thinking about that, like he was stringing the poor girl along. Jolene definitely deserved better than him, but she had to know that she was a rebound. That this was more of a fling than anything. She had caught him after a break-up—okay, not really a break up, and that thought still hurt him—so she should have been aware of the fact that he was still wounded when she’d hit on him.

He stood rather abruptly, but his companions did not look away from whatever they were doing. The clouds outside the windows looked about ready to dump snow on the world, but he couldn’t know for sure. Not making a sound, he left the room and into the dungeons. Heated thanks to the Fire elementals, it was a place he was not too fond of. The warmth was nice during this season, but he preferred the sun. He preferred summer and light and swimming and everything that he couldn’t enjoy during the winter. Samson supposed he should have known where he was going, but his feet were guiding him to the medical wing before he even understood that he wanted to go there. But he did, of course he did. Jolene was doing fine, Harley had gotten the worse of it, and goddammit, why do I even care? She cheated on him, and yet he couldn’t forget the dance. What was the truth? What was it all about?

These thoughts brought determination, and guided him to the building. He found Harley’s room easily and when he opened the door, Sam found the girl standing. Well, seeming as if she was trying to sand. He blinked at her, gave her a sideways look. Incredulous. He closed his eyes when he went to fish out his phone, and texted out, ”What are you doing up?” He knew she wasn’t in the best shape—of course not—and he didn’t want her to go walking anywhere, since it looked like she was about to ditch. Samson wasn’t having that. He placed a hand on her shoulder, trying not to think too much of the contact, and gently urged her back to the bed. Why do I still care? he wondered again, berating himself for his stupidity. But he knew that he needed answers no matter what.

Samson was relatively unaffected by Harley’s less-than-warm reply as she got back into bed. At least she listened to him. He was used to her attitude and snippiness sometimes—he’d known her for long enough that it didn’t really bother him. Not that tempers usually did anyway, which was handy when your allies are Fires. He never really got too upset if someone was short with him, just brushed it off. Or—if he was particularly bothered—he trolled them just a little bit. He was spiteful often, but usually that was when he was physically attacked. It took a lot to get him angry about something small.

The Thunder boy looked around at the room, feeling sorry for Harley. He could see why she wanted to move around. Who’d want to be stuck in this depressing place? Still, it wasn’t a good idea to be moving around. ”How do you feel?” he texted out to show her, because he still cared, and he was still polite. It was a question that needed to be asked, of course, and he had no qualms with asking it. Even though there were things he’d like to get from her other than her well-being, it was still important to him. Always would be, no matter how he felt about her. Fucking soft, huh, he thought, though his expression betrayed none of his inner thoughts. He was a pro at that, after all, and he wondered how much Harley was aware of with him. Was she like Beatrice, where she just knew his mood with one look? Probably. He wouldn’t put it past his ex..

He narrowed his eyes at her retort, though he didn’t feel too angry. He was just irritated by all the secrets there seemed to be, and exhausted. Very exhausted. Samson merely shook his head when she apologize. If he couldn’t handle her, he’d never had dated her. No, her snippy comment didn’t bother him, the trouble there was between her and Jolene was what bothered him. Why had there even been a fight between the two girls, and what the hell had they been talking about at the prom? These are the questions he came for answers to. Of course, he also wanted to visit Harley, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud, now was he? ”That much is apparent. I’d like to know why.” He wasn’t about to skirt around this. He deserved to know, right? His girlfriend and ex just duked it out while he was left looking like an idiot, no idea about what was going on. It was only fair that he could find out what exactly had happened between the two girls. Between he and Harley, even.

Samson’s gaze was hard, piercing. Arms still crossed. Not yet angry, just frustrated. Confused. Desperate. What the fuck is going on Harley? The lack of answers may begin to crush him, he believed, a horrible case of irony. The worst thing, he couldn’t come out and say it, or yell at her, or otherwise show ho aggravated it made him. So he didn’t. He kept his face a smooth slate, watching Harley—who seemed to show her irritability—like a hawk. She told him that she was fine, and he nodded, not showing his skepticism. He could check with the nurse and get her some Advil or something, because he didn’t think she as very fine. He lifted an eyebrow at her question, and then shook his head with a light exhale that sounded like it could have been a laugh. What’s going on in his head? Wouldn’t you like to know.

There seemed to be a major miscommunication between the two. Didn’t cheat on me… Hands gripping his crossed arms, he simply studied her ithout moving. By now he was aware that he’d made one mistake. He should have talked to Harley when he got the text, but he’d just followed his gut instinct. Speaking of texts, he uncrossed his arms to write out, ”Why would Jolene lie? You two were friends.” Samson used past tense, since obviously they weren’t friends anymore. Well, maybe they could be, but he wasn’t the type to forgive easily after a fight. However, he was also on the cusp of an epiphany, one that he was trying to refrain from coming into full realization. It was close and it made him ill at ease. He hoped that he was in the right. He had to be.

Samson saw her tear, and his stomach flipped. He tensed, closed his eyes as he sighed. “I love you too,” a big part of him wanted to tell her. But he couldn’t. Love was a big wore, not in letters but in meaning and they were exes. This wasn’t how these things worked. ”Then tell me what is going on between you and Jolene,” he texted out, his fingers gliding across the keyboard in containted urgency. Was he being pushy. I deserve it. He knew that, he was entitled to these answers, ones that Harley appeared to have. He wanted to know why the two girls had gotten into a fight, and what their cryptic words—to his ears—were for.

A part of Samson was hoping he made Harley uncomfortable, but that was the mean part, the spiteful part that didn’t know what to believe anymore and wanted the girl to join in on his suffering. But there was a better part of him that just wanted to make things okay between them again, even if that just meant being able to be around her without all these…feelings getting involved. The look Harley gave made him uncomfortable, and he almost darted his eyes away. He held up a finger. One day. Not even actually. He quickly folded it back into a fist and hung his arm loosely next to his side. Okay, so Harley had a reason to be upset about that. There was the whole waiting period people had to go through after break-ups…especially since this hadn’t been a very orthodox break-up.

He held up his finger again, and this time it was so that he could type out another text. ”I apologize for my ignorance of the girl code.” Even through text, it sounded bitter and sarcastic. He added on, ”She’s just a rebound.” If he were speaking, he’d have hesitated before saying rebound. Did that make him a horrible guy? Did that make him sound like a scumbag? Well, it was true, and he hoped to God that Jolene understood that. He didn’t really have intentions of making it last, not that he was going to go cheat on her or anything. Hell no. He had just wanted someone to take his mind off of Harley, and she had done just that for him.

Samson noticed that Harley wouldn’t meet his gaze and almost sighed. He was tense, he could feel his muscles clenching, and he didn’t really know why. Harley just did that to him. Her answer to his words jarred him, but it wasn’t really what he was most worried about. Without much warning, he headed into the adjacent bathroom and grabbed some toilet paper beefore re-entering Harley’s room and holding it out to her. No tissues, that was the best he could do. Then, he texted. ”So…you’re telling me that she lied because she is obssessed with me.” He sat down on the edge of her bed. It was a lot to take in. The worst part about this was that he believed Harley. He knew her better than he ever knew Jolene, and he knew she wouldn’t lie about something like this. Sam turned his gaze to his ex, but looked down at the phone in his hands. What now? Hesitatly, he texted out, ”I’m sorry.” It wasn’t like he knew or anything, but…god, did he feel terrible.

He shifted his eyes up again and almost elaborated on that statement that would have sounded so much better from his mouth. Instead of trying to add sincerity to a flat, digital text message, he took her in his arms, careful not to hurt her, and placed his lips against her forehead, staying put for a few moments. He understood the tears and the fighting and he didn’t know how to make it better. He wanted to talk to Jolene, do something to get revenge on her for what she did to Harley. To his and Harley’s relationship. Plus, it kind of scared him, the idea of someone being obssessed with him. The blond had suddenly become a lot more creepier in his eyes. He pulled back and wrote out, ”Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” It proved that yes, he believed her because he was sick of not listening to her and sick of how things were. He wanted Harley to be truthful, and so he’d let himself believe that she was. Because comparing her to Jolene, Harley was the better woman.

Well, Sam’s mood went even further to shit with Harley’s accusing stare, even though he knew he deserved it. Just because you didn’t go for a rebound… he thought defensively. She didn’t have a boyfriend, after all, and the selfish part of him was glad. However, the part that realized how douchy it was to think like that recognized how Harley must have felt about Jolene. He texted out another message. ”It was a dick move. I’m sorry.” At least he could apologize for that—he knew how to be courteous when the occasion called for it, especially when that occasion involved Harley. He tried to be careful around her because...Samson didn’t know if he could define what he felt for her because he was just a jumbled mess.

It was difficult, both of them being sarcastic personalities, but he decided that sniping at her wasn’t the best way to go. He didn’t care about any code, be it girl code, guy code, or morse code. All he did he just…followed his instinct. He didn’t give a fuck about codes. Thinking about Jolene being a rebound made him wonder—would there be anyone after Harley? What did he want now? I want her, he thought, unbiddened even though he understood that beyond all else. Should he tell her that? Should he say how much he missed her or would that be too sudden, too quick?

Like everyone else this fine day, seeing her cry made him feel terrible. He wondered if there was anything baser than shit, and decided that no, shit was the perfect word to describe him at this point. When she touched his cheek, he brushed back a strand of hair behind her ear and it felt strange to have this affection for her. This very conflicted, defeated affection. But is look was serious. He nodded when she told him o break up with Jolene. ”Don’t think I want a stalker,” he texted when he pulled away, an attempt at joking. He looked down at his phone as he debated something else he wanted ot text her, something he wanted to say. ”We don’t even have to be together.” There was apprehension in his chest, but he moved beyond it to slowly type out, ”I want to be together with you. But I can understand if what I did is unforgiveable. But I still want you.”

If he had been speaking, there would have been a lot of hesitation. Pausing. Did he deserve her back? Hell no. What he had done was pretty dickish, more than dickish actually, and Harley had every right to unch him in the face for what he said. But he was being honest with her, telling her what he wanted. He wanted what they used to have. Even if things changed thanks to this, he still wanted her. And not Jolene. And not some other girl. Just Harley..