The Good Things
The Good Things
He tries not to think about it. He tires to bury it in alcohol and women and nothing ever does the trick. He tries to think about how wrong it is, about what John would think if he found out but it didn’t stop him then and he knows it won’t stop him from remembering now.
Instead, he tries to remember a too tense car ride. He remembers Sammy begging him to go to Stanford because they can find a way to make things different there. He remembers asking who would take care of Dad and how Sam thought he could live his entire life as a lie because that’s what taking Dean with him would mean. He remembers Sam kissing him hard against the car door, trying to make him come with him, as if desire can make him change his mind.
What he remembers the most is the smell of Sammy that summer, the taste of him on his tongue and the way his hips felt under his fingers. He remembers the sound of his voice and the way he looked, spread out under him in the open fields where John had left them alone for months on end.
He remembers the summer when everything changed. He tries hard to remember the fall when everything fell, but it’s not so sweet and even if it hurts like hell, he can only purposely remember the good things about Sammy.
He tries not to think about it. He tires to bury it in alcohol and women and nothing ever does the trick. He tries to think about how wrong it is, about what John would think if he found out but it didn’t stop him then and he knows it won’t stop him from remembering now.
Instead, he tries to remember a too tense car ride. He remembers Sammy begging him to go to Stanford because they can find a way to make things different there. He remembers asking who would take care of Dad and how Sam thought he could live his entire life as a lie because that’s what taking Dean with him would mean. He remembers Sam kissing him hard against the car door, trying to make him come with him, as if desire can make him change his mind.
What he remembers the most is the smell of Sammy that summer, the taste of him on his tongue and the way his hips felt under his fingers. He remembers the sound of his voice and the way he looked, spread out under him in the open fields where John had left them alone for months on end.
He remembers the summer when everything changed. He tries hard to remember the fall when everything fell, but it’s not so sweet and even if it hurts like hell, he can only purposely remember the good things about Sammy.