A Close Relationship with Carpet Fibres 3/?
A Close Relationship with Carpet Fibres
Summary: Sam wakes up on the floor.
A/N: Sorry this took so long! I got distracted with school holidays and apparently needed some time to get back into the writing groove. :P
XXX
18
Sam wakes up on the floor.
It's quiet and still and something's missing but he doesn't know what because everything is missing, everything is exploding stars behind his eyelids and cloying fog and pain, everything hurts and there are no hands in his hair and no voice calling him kiddo...
Oh.
Sam opens his eyes. The dorm room carpet is dark grey and smells faintly of beer and pot, and he must have bitten his tongue because his mouth tastes of blood. It all mixes together in a nauseating kind of way and Sam slams his eyes closed.
This is what you wanted, he reminds himself as he breathes through the worst of it.
His room mate is out. Sam's not sure if he's relieved or disappointed. He got the impression that the guy wasn't too happy about being roomed with someone who comes with a list of instructions and he isn't sure how much help his room mate would actually be but waking up alone is eerier than he thought it would be. His brain's still not fully online and he feels adrift without someone to centre him. And, Sam notes dismally as he cautiously squints his eyes open again, his bed seems like it's a long way away.
You knew, he tells himself forcefully, when you left, you knew you'd have to deal with this alone.
It was the right decision. He had to move on instead of waiting around for a cure that wasn't coming. He had to stop holding his family back from helping people and maybe, if he becomes a lawyer, he can help people too. He doesn't regret his choice. Still, he stays pressed against the dark grey carpet and misses Dean with a ferocity that takes his breath away. He's never been alone like this before. His head is thumping. He must have landed on his knee because a sharp pain is starting to register through the dull ache that consumes his limbs, and if he wants ice for it he's going to have to get it himself, and it all just feels like too much right now; getting up, getting ice, getting to bed. It's too hard.
It's a long time before he feels like attempting movement and even then, it's the trilling of his cellphone in his pocket that spurs him on, a wave of relief washing away his lethargy. It's Dean's ring tone. Somehow, it's Dean.
Sam fumbles his phone from his pocket and jabs at the answer button with fingers that don't quite feel connected to him, tucking the phone between his ear and the floor when holding it seems like too much effort.
“Hey, Dean.” His bitten tongue has swelled and the words come out thick and a little slurred. He swears he can feel his brother's concern sky-rocket through the phone lines the second he speaks.
“Sammy?”
Sam feels stupidly like crying just because it's so good to hear Dean's voice right now but he doesn't because Dean would either freak or mock him relentlessly. Probably both in that order.
“I had a fit,” he says, focusing on getting the words out clearly.
“Yeah?” There's Dean's seizure voice, soft and concerned and reassuring all at the same time. “You okay, kiddo?”
Despite his aching limbs and sore knee, bitten tongue and cloudy head, Sam finds himself smiling. “Yeah, Dean. I'm fine.”
Chapter Four