Archive of Our Own

Ghosts became quite a big part of Colby’s life throughout his life. It wasn’t just because of doing paranormal investigations, but even before, if he was being honest. There had always been this… something. At first, he’d always believed that it was simply because he grew up religious. His religion had been a big part of him, ever since he was just a little boy, but for the longest of time, he’d always thought it was just that. 

But since they had started their paranormal journey, it was becoming more and more obvious it was much more than just his faith. It seemed like ghosts and him always had some weird understanding in between each other — Colby was respectful (and maybe slightly intimidating) and ghosts mostly didn’t bother him, except for a couple of encounters, when they proceeded to scare the living shit out of him. However, at some point, he realized the ghosts… listened to him. Like, actually properly listened to him. Whenever he gave them an order to touch, or not to touch their equipment, they did it immediately. Or even when he told them to leave them alone, the ghosts did it right away. 

As if they were compelled to do it and couldn’t actively fight against those commands. 

And so, Colby started to push the boundaries of his new-found abilities. 

He started off with something mild — demanding that the ghosts stepped away from the REM-pod, or a music box. They stopped, and he didn’t bear any consequences. None at all. He could be as demanding as he wanted, omitting the usual levels of respect that he normally used, and yet, there was no attachment happening. 

Okay, cool. That was nice. Some people did say he could be a little scary at times, so maybe the ghosts could see it, too. 

For a long time, Colby believed that was the peak of his abilities — still rather useful, especially when they encountered tricksters during their investigations. 

Oh, but how wrong he was. 

It seemed like something inside him had shifted. He couldn't tell exactly what that pivotal moment was, as he could only suddenly notice the difference. 

Colby started seeing ghosts. 

Not just some shadows in the corner of his eye — no, he was seeing actual fucking figures. Slightly distorted at times, but still clear enough to see all the detail: the color of their hair, their eyes, what they were wearing… everything. On top of everything, all the ghosts they encountered were aware that he could see them.

So, looking at the facts, Colby now could see and order ghosts around. Which was… nice? He supposed? He didn't know what to make out of it, if he was being fully honest. 

But he did know one person who was going to know far more than he could ever dream about. 

He texted Ashley in the middle of the night when all the articles on the internet failed him, getting an immediate response, consisting of only three words: call me now. 

“Hi,” said Colby, shifting in his seat on the bed. The sudden words made his stomach twist into knots and his palms sweat; he almost dropped the phone.

“Sorry,” said Ashley, “I didn't mean to… well, scare you, I guess. I just didn't expect it.”

“Neither did I!” responded Colby, his entire body tense. “I know it sounds crazy, trust me. I feel like I'm losing my mind, but it all has been happening out of nowhere, and I don't know what to do with it. Do you—have you ever heard of something like that?”

Ashley hummed softly in response and Colby let the sound calm his nerves. “I've heard about it, usually from other people, but it's very rare. Some people are more connected to the world of the dead.”

Okay, worrying. 

“So far I can't exactly tell you what exactly we're dealing with here,” she continued, sounding unsure. “I don't know if this is only ghost sovereignty… ah, saying only is a big understatement, though.”

“Ghost… huh?” mumbled Colby, his eyebrows knitting together. 

“Essentially, you rule over ghosts.”

Oh. 

Well. That was not what Colby was expecting out of this conversation. He believed that he was becoming more emphatic, or maybe he was a late bloomer of a medium. He definitely didn't expect whatever this was. 

“Of course,” added Ashley, sounding almost nervous, “I can't tell you if it's just this. If I were you, I'd probably make notes of what you are capable of. Track what the limits are.”

Colby buried his fingers in his hair, staring blankly at the wall. He could command the dead — not just scare them away, but actually give out orders with no consequences. What even was his life?

“Are you with me?” asked Ashley carefully.

“Yeah,” breathed Colby, squeezing his eyes shut. “It's just… a lot. It feels, I dunno, slightly demonic?”

Ashley chuckled, “Not demonic, no. It just means you're more connected to the afterlife. Which, to be fair, I've always had a hunch that might be the case with you. The way ghosts have always reacted differently to you, and all that.”

Colby hummed in response, as if to prompt Ashley to continue. 

“I also believe,” said Ashley, “that you're the main reason why the ghosts haven't hurt you. Or why they haven't physically hurt Sam, either. You might be his protector.”

Sam.

Albeit unknowingly, Colby had been protecting Sam this entire time. That thought alone actually made him smile despite how scary the situation was. 

“Well, like I said, keep a track of what you can do,” murmured Ashley. “Maybe text me your discoveries, yeah? We're gonna figure out what this ability of yours actually is.”

After the conversation with Ashley, Colby was going back and forth, trying to figure out what to do next. It had been a couple of days, so he had enough time to think it through and come to a conclusion: the most sensible thing would've been telling Sam about all of this.

However. 

Nothing about his newly found ability was confirmed — he didn't even know what the limits were. Plus, if that wasn't enough, he was also realizing that the reason why Sam hadn't had his “I want to levitate and get thrown against the wall” moment was precisely because of him. 

And if Colby was being completely honest, he wanted to keep his best friend in one piece. So, using his abilities to save Sam's ass it was. Well, not that many things were about to change, huh? 

For the next few days, Colby only had to deal with a couple of ghosts in their house — he was fully aware that their place was haunted, but he wasn't aware just how many ghosts occupied the space. All of them stayed away from Colby, but flocked to Sam, almost on instinct. Really, was Sam a magnet for the paranormal, or something?

But it seemed like one unimpressed look, or a flick of a wrist was enough for the ghosts to keep their hands away from Sam. All while his best friend stayed blissfully unaware.

Colby knew damn well that Sam would've been most definitely furious with this whole thing — again, he was keeping him away from his dreams of getting thrown against the wall, but, honestly, this guy had no self-preservation instincts. Sue him. 

It started getting more intense during their investigations, though. It also became much harder to keep this whole thing hidden, since Sam was paying more attention to everything around them.

And wasn't that just fucking fantastic.

“Colby?” spoke up Sam, his brows furrowing. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” asked Colby, matching Sam's expression. 

Sam gestured vaguely with one hand around Colby. “You were… I don't know, glaring at something. Do you see anything?”

Oh, yeah. There was a ghost standing right behind Sam for the past thirteen minutes. This one was really fucking stubborn, too — they kept coming back, even as Colby sent them on their merry way three times already. According to the research they'd done, this entity was supposed to be the protector of the house they were investigating, and they did not like Sam. Like, at all.

“No,” replied Colby, far too smoothly. He hated himself for it, but what else was he meant to do? The last thing he needed was to have a whole argument with Sam, simply because his best friend wanted to…

Well. 

That was the complicated thing with Sam and many people didn't seem to understand it. 

Sam Golbach was one passionate motherfucker, but his passion was so quick to burn everything down, including him. He wanted to prove something to the world, while simultaneously wanting to prove himself. 

It was all so very complicated. Why was his best friend like this? Colby wouldn't trade him for the world, but fucking hell. 

“You sure?” pressed Sam, raising one eyebrow. 

Colby rubbed the back of his neck, humming softly in response. “Yeah, dude,” he said. “I promise, I'm not seeing anything. Feeling just… I don't know. I feel like you've been pushing your luck these days.”

Sam frowned — ah, wrong reaction. “And what does that mean?”

“I know you want to find a solid proof,” began Colby, carefully choosing his words, “but you're putting yourself in stupid situations.”

Sam scoffed, clicking his tongue, as he lowered the camera he'd been holding. “Really, dude? You're acting like we haven't had this conversation before.”

They had. Many times. And it never led anywhere. Because Sam wasn't just passionate, he was also so incredibly stubborn. 

“I don't feel like this is a conversation we should be having on camera,” said Colby, trying to keep his voice even. He watched, as Sam turned off the camera, setting it aside on a nearby table. 

The ghost was still looming over Sam's shoulder, making Colby squirm uncomfortably. 

“Okay, fine,” huffed Sam, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You're starting to get reckless,” continued Colby, narrowing his eyes. “And I know we've promised each other that as long as we don't put anyone else in danger, nothing is off the table, but… I don't want my best friend to get another attachment, or God forbid, possessed. I care about you. And I can't just stand here and watch you destroy yourself.”

“I am not destroying myself!” shouted Sam, his voice echoing off of the walls. He stepped closer, tipping his head back just enough to look Colby in the eyes. “And you know why I'm doing this. I need to find something! Anything! Some actual fucking proof, so I know that I wasn't just wasting my time, running around with a camera.”

Colby could feel his heart clench at the words. “So,” he said, swallowing around nothing, “you wasted your time by doing this whole thing with me?”

Sam flinched at the question, his eyes widening. “No, that's not… You know that's not what I meant,” he mumbled. 

“Sure,” replied Colby, his voice clipped. He averted his gaze, biting the inside of his cheek, until he tasted blood. “I feel like we should go. We're not getting anything, anyway.”

Sam only nodded, opting for packing all of their equipment, instead of actually replying. 

Usually, whenever they had an argument, they knew how to fix it. They knew how to talk these things out — that was simply how it worked, when it came to dealing with someone you knew since you were just a scrawny teenager. 

This time, though, it felt different. Way too much frustration and anger that hadn't been talked about for far too long. 

Colby had no idea how to fix this. 

Foolishly, Colby wanted to believe that this whole thing was going to get solved by itself. Oh, he hoped for everything to get back to normal the next day, but he was met with the worst case of silent treatment the next day. 

Eating together in the dining room was awkward and staying in the living room was out of the equation, unless they wanted to deal with the awkwardness. So, staying in their respective rooms it was. 

Their more serious fights usually got like this — both of them were far too stubborn to call out for a truce. Instead, they clung to their pride and remained passive-aggressive with each other. However, this time, Colby refused to be the one to initiate peace. 

Colby was expecting for this whole thing to keep going for the next few weeks, both of them glaring anytime they passed each other in the hallway. What he didn't expect was for Sam to knock on his door, shifting his weight from leg to leg, not quite looking Colby in the eyes. 

“What?” asked Colby, not even bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. He was fucking exhausted — the ghosts weren't just annoying him in their apartment, they were also floating around whenever he went to a store, or a gym. He couldn't find a moment of peace and now Sam was about to pull some bullshit. 

“I want to go back to Kansas,” said Sam, finally shifting his gaze to Colby. 

Colby blinked rapidly. Then, he frowned. Opened and closed his mouth. Finally, the only thing that came out of his mouth was: “Hm.”

Sam took in a deep breath, pushing his hair away from his face. “I thought about what you told me. How I'm getting reckless. And that I'm putting myself in danger.”

Colby nodded slowly, leaning against the door frame. He cocked his head in a silent prompt for Sam to continue. 

“And I might need to reset. Go back to where we started,” continued Sam, tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie. “I feel selfish to ask you to come with me, but I don't… gosh, this is gonna sound so cheesy, but at this point, I can't really imagine myself doing anything without you.”

“Uh-huh,” mumbled Colby, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Sam licked his lips. “I've been acting like a dick. And I said some stuff that were really fucked up,” he added, “and I don't want you to think that I've wasted my time by being around you.”

Colby sighed, letting his shoulders relax — he didn't even realize how tense they were until that moment. “So, you want to go back to Kansas. To reset and to… stop being a dick?” he offered, raising one eyebrow. 

Sam laughed, nodding his head. He looked almost sheepish. “Yeah, something like that. We also haven't been home for a while, no?”

For a good reason, too. 

Going back to Kansas always made Colby feel like he was regressing to how he was when he was a stupid teenager. He knew it was a terrible reason not to visit his parents, but he couldn't shake off the sensation of losing all the progress he'd made over the years. Each time they came back, he could feel his old fears and insecurities crawling back. 

But, despite all of that, he missed it. He missed the simplicity of it all. That city was forever going to be his home, no matter how far away he moved, or how much his life changed. 

Plus, it'd get his parents off his back. 

“Alright,” said Colby.

Sam perked up at the answer, his lips curling up in a smile. “You'll go with me?”

Colby hummed softly in response, nodding his head. “Yeah, it might be… nice. To just go back, I guess. We might even do a video there, since we didn't really get any footage the other day,” he added. 

Sam grimaced, biting the inside of his cheek. “I am really sorry about that,” he mumbled. “Not—not about the video, but about me being a dick and all that.”

Colby couldn't help, but smile, already reaching his hand out to Sam. It was so easy for them to gravitate towards each other, despite being angry just a few moments prior. 

Sam didn't even hesitate, immediately interlocking their fingers. “I really didn't mean it like that. I was being a real dick for no reason. I'd do this a hundred times over, as long as it's with you.”

Colby wrapped his free arm around Sam, pulling him closer. “I know,” he murmured, allowing himself to finally breathe. “I love you.”

It was so very easy to say those words. And it was even easier to feel them. Because loving Sam must've been Colby's favorite thing in the world. 

Wait. Hold on. Rewind. Huh?

Oh. 

Oh. 

It seemed like all the feelings he'd buried back when he was a teenager were coming back in full force. 

Sam leaned against Colby, putting his free hand on his back. “Love you, too.”

The ride from the airport all the way to their hometown was tense. Like always, Colby volunteered to drive, just to have something else to focus on, while Sam had his head leaned against the window, quietly drifting off. 

Despite their conversation the other day, things were still somewhat rocky between them. What was said couldn't be taken back and Colby wasn't above being petty. He was just a human, unfortunately. And Sam was still agitated, that much was clear. But he seemed to be excited about going back and visiting his family. 

Colby really, really wished he could've shared the sentiment. 

The sense of dread was spreading throughout his body the more he thought about it. He texted his mom the day before, only receiving a simple response: 

We're excited.

Not much was said afterward, except for the estimated time of their arrival. His parents were simply like that — very straight to the point. Not bad parents, absolutely not, at times meeting the stereotypes of the Midwest, actually. They just could be so…

Never mind. Sam wanted to do this and Colby was far too weak to deny his best friend anything. Sue him. 

“Sam?” spoke up Colby, looking at Sam from the corner of his eye. Sam only stirred, scrunching his nose. “Sammy,” he singsonged. 

“I’m tired,” muttered Sam, but forced his eyes open, blinking slowly at Colby. 

Colby smiled at the comment, as he stopped his car right before Sam’s family house. His mom was already waiting for him at the front of porch, waving her hands. She was smiling so widely, too, stepping in place, as if getting ready to run to the car. 

Sam’s mom had always been nice — nice enough to let them film in Sam’s room for hours at time and nice enough to support them both in their career. Though, she was far more reluctant about their exploring videos and paranormal investigations, far too scared about them getting hurt. On the other hand, Sam’s dad had always been all for the danger that came with these sorts of videos. 

“Are you gonna come in?” asked Sam, his bag already in hand. He was hovering by the passenger’s door, shifting his gaze in between Colby and the house. “I’m sure my parents would be happy to see you.”

“Tell them I’ll stop by tomorrow,” said Colby, offering Sam and tight-lipped smile. “Gotta see my parents and all. I’m sure they’re worried by now.”

Sam only nodded, closing the door. He waved at Colby, before finally walking towards the front porch of the house. 

Colby heaved a deep breath, his shoulders dropping slightly. Again, it still wasn’t ideal between them, and he really needed some time to be alone. Well, as alone as he could be with his parents around, but alas. It had to do. 

His mom was already waiting for him, leaning against the door frame of the main entrance of the house. She offered Colby the smallest of smiles, reaching her arm out for a hug. The hug was short-lived, but rather nice. 

“It’s very good to see you,” said his mom, cupping Colby’s cheek. “How was the flight? What about the drive?” 

Colby began talking about their way to Kansas, taking in his surroundings. It didn’t seem that many things had changed since the last time — the same rugs, the same pictures on the walls, the same couch in the living room. And yet, it all felt so unfamiliar. This wasn’t his home. It wasn’t even because he considered his home to be in LA, no. There was a different reason for this. 

Sam wasn’t here, and therefore, it wasn’t Colby’s home. He could’ve traveled to the other side of the world, but as long as Sam was by his side, he was home. 

“Cole, dear, are you listening to me?” asked his mom, forcing Colby to turn his head. He blinked quickly a few times, as if his eyes were trying to adjust to something. That was when he noticed a figure standing right behind his mom — not looming, per se, but definitely very present. 

Great. So, not only was he feeling out of place, because he was back in Kansas and things were still a little awkward with Sam, but he still had ghosts to deal with. How could he possibly forget? 

“Sorry,” said Colby, biting the inside of his cheek. “I’m a little tired from the drive.”

“I said that your dad is coming later tonight,” repeated his mom, “so why don’t you lay down for a bit? We can talk more when he’s here.”

Colby nodded mutely, already heading towards the stairs. Once he reached his old room, he had to pause for a moment — the room always seemed almost frozen in time anytime he came back. The walls were still covered with old posters of bands and small pieces of papers with quotes from high school. The desk still had crude words written on it. And the bed had dark-blue bedsheets on it, all neatly done. 

Nothing changed. Nothing ever changed. Nothing ever fucking changed. 

He set the bag carelessly by the door, before walking up to his bed and letting his body fall on top of it. Instead of taking a shower like he planned, he opted for a staring contest with the ceiling, all while ignoring the ghost that was standing in the corner of his room. The ghost was fucking persistent, too, seemingly waiting for Colby to acknowledge them. 

“I know you’re there,” mumbled Colby, raising his head just enough to look at the ghost. The figure perked up, wiggling in their spot. 

“You do see me,” said the ghost. 

That made Colby sat up, frowning. Until now, he could never hear ghosts, and holy shit, if that wasn’t the weirdest shit ever — the voice wasn’t coming from the corner, but it seemed like it was directly inside his brain, instead. A little distorted, too. Yes, he was fully aware he could command the ghosts, but hearing them talk was just as weird, okay? 

“I do,” replied Colby, keeping his voice quiet. “I can also command you to leave.”

The ghost hummed. “I could tell,” they said. “You seem connected to our world.”

Again, worrying. Hearing those words from Ashley was different than hearing them from a ghost. 

“How am I connected to your world?” asked Colby, carefully choosing his words. It wasn’t like he had never spoken to a ghost — the Estes method existed, after all — but this seemed, well… personal. To some extent. 

The ghost only shrugged. “Some people just are like that. It’s nice. It gets lonely.”

Colby nodded, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “I don’t… I don’t know what to talk about with you,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t know I could do this until recently.”

“That’s okay! Just don’t ignore us, yeah?” said the ghost. “I'll leave for now, so you don't have to command me, okay?”

“Yeah,” breathed out Colby, watching the ghost disappear into the thin air. 

Colby let his body fall back on the bed, dragging his hands across his face. He doubted this was going to get any easier on him as he explored his powers more and more. He wasn't meant to be this emphatic — he was just a guy from Kansas, but everything had always been pointing towards him having this something, ever since they'd started this whole thing. 

He made sure to text Ashley his new discoveries — he only got a message saying she was going to look into it more. As if that wasn't cryptic. 

“This is awful,” mumbled Colby, closing his eyes. 

Meeting with his dad later that night was an experience, too. If his mom was straightforward, his dad was brutal — always had been. Curt nods, tight smiles, direct questions. It felt mostly like a police interrogation, if he was being completely honest. 

Again, not bad parents by any chance, but definitely not the warmest people out there. But, despite all that, Colby loved them and they loved him. It was just strange that he came out of this family as someone with so much open love for those around him. 

Nurture versus nature and all that, huh? 

“Gage said he might be coming home, too, if he finds the time,” said his dad, as he sat in an armchair next to the couch. 

Colby nodded slowly, waiting for more information. He didn't really talk to Gage that much these days — both of them far too busy with their own lives, so their usual form of communication was usually just sending each other memes during the dead of the night, instead. It worked, somehow. 

He missed his brother, though. It seemed to be an unavoidable event for younger siblings to eventually miss their older siblings again, as if they were little kids once more. That was at least how Colby was feeling these days — he desperately missed his older brother, but admitting it seemed far too clingy. 

“That would be nice,” said Colby, his lips curling up in a smile. 

The rest of the conversation steered into the same vibe of a police interrogation, where his dad asked questions, and Colby answered. All the questions were superficial, too — work, money, one mandatory question about Sam, work and money again. 

That was just how dads were, no? 

When Colby was finally released from his interrogation, he noticed he got a message from Sam. He sat down on his bed, unlocking his phone to read it. 

Sammy: it's kinda weird not being around you all the time

Colby couldn't help, but smile. It was a simple message, but it carried so much, but mainly it was saying: I miss you.

Colby: yeah man it's fucking weird

Colby: how are your parents?

Sammy: like always. it's nice that it's the same honestly 

Sammy: they asked about you. you coming tomorrow right? 

Colby: yeah man. tell them i’ll come over for lunch. we can hang out after

Sammy: sounds good. see ya tomorrow 

Colby: see you 

It felt as if they were fifteen again — Colby was half-convinced he had to ask for permission from his parents to go to Sam's place, only to come to a conclusion that he was, in fact, almost thirty. 

Maybe, this wasn't such a bad plan, after all. Going back to where it all started and finding some peace in all the simplicity of it all. 

Colby had always hated how nothing ever changed in this city, getting too used to the never-ending shifts in his life due to LA and the way their career worked. But maybe, sometimes it wasn't too bad to simply enjoy how things were before — enjoy the stability of it all. 

It seemed like there was a reason why they actually came back, something else than resetting, that was. Colby just had to find out what this something was. 

Walking into Sam’s house just had to be the most comforting thing in the world. Sam’s mom hugged him so tightly it almost knocked the wind out of his lungs and fretted around him for almost ten minutes — all while he was moving with shuffling steps towards the living room. 

For as long as Colby could remember, this house had always been associated with calm and comfort for him. Now, though, he was also wondering if it was simply because Sam was already waiting in the living room, smiling ever so softly. 

“Long time no see, dude,” chuckled Sam, shifting his gaze to his mom. “You need to let him breathe a little, mom.”

“Oh, hush, you,” said Sam’s mom, waving her hand. “I haven’t seen the boy in ages! I kept asking Lesa, but she never told me much. She’s such a private woman, your mother. Always keeping the lives of her boys a secret. As if you didn’t spend more time at our place!” 

Where Colby’s mom was almost distant to some extent, Sam’s mom had always been overwhelming — too many hugs, too much gossip, too many smiles. Quite frankly, Colby had never known how to accept most of it, but he had always appreciated it more than anything. Was that where his loving nature actually came from? Did he pick it up from her, instead? 

It was such a funny thing, to be essentially raised by two families, because at the end of the day, Colby was just a mosaic of all the people in his life — not just his family, but friends and those that he loved over the years. Who was he to begin with? Was he ever truly himself? Where did Colby begin, and where did other people end? 

And did it even matter?

“How are you, honey?” asked Sam’s mom, holding Colby’s face in her hands. The question wasn’t asked just out of necessity, and once again, Colby had no idea how to deal with it. “Sam isn’t giving you a hard time, is he?” 

Colby chuckled, shooting Sam a quick look — he was already squirming in his seat, rubbing the back of his head. Sam had always been so terrible at playing anything cool, making him a terrible liar. He'd always liked that about Sam, though, he wore his heart on his sleeve. 

“No, no. Sam is as delightful as ever,” replied Colby. Well, delightful was one way to put the fact they had been giving each other a silent treatment until two days ago and also the whole thing about loving Sam. Though, the latter wasn’t on his best friend — Colby had to cut him some slack. 

Sam's mom pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes. “I don't believe you, but for the sake of my son, I shall pretend that I do.”

“Mom!” exclaimed Sam, groaning. 

Colby was fifteen again and nothing had ever changed. He was back in a house that became his home over the years, simply because his best friend lived there. 

Colby was fifteen again, full of love and free of responsibilities. He didn't have a single thing to worry about. 

Colby was fifteen again, and he never wanted any of this to end, for he dreamed of being foolish and naive for a bit longer. 

After lunch with Sam's parents, Colby followed Sam to his room, immediately throwing himself on his bed, occupying it with no remorse. Only two days of being back in Kansas, and the sense of nostalgia didn't want to stop, clinging to him. 

It was nice, Colby let himself indulge in it. 

“You're taking up the whole bed, dude,” huffed Sam, rolling his eyes. “You always did this.”

“Yeah, your bed is comfortable,” replied Colby, shrugging one shoulder, almost nonchalantly. 

He watched, as Sam walked closer, before lying down next to him. He pushed Colby just enough to have some space for himself, but close enough that their shoulders were touching. 

“What are you…”

“We've shared a bed before,” stated Sam, his voice tight. His eyes were focused on one spot somewhere on the ceiling. 

And, yeah, they had. Many times, actually. Starting during their teenage years, whenever they had a sleepover, because a spare mattress was uncomfortable, but it continued to their adulthood, during their explorations at the beginning of their career, because it was cheaper to rent a room with a queen-size bed, rather than two twin beds. Sometimes, though, they would sneak into each other's rooms at night, whenever they couldn't sleep. Neither of them ever really said anything about waking up with the other next to them. 

“Yeah,” breathed Colby, turning on his side to look at Sam. Finally, Sam was seemingly done with having a staring contest with the ceiling and faced Colby as well. 

“I'm sorry,” whispered Sam after a moment, his hand finding Colby’s, interlocking their pinkies. 

“It's…” Colby trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek, before heaving a deep sigh. “It is fine. I'm just being petty. I hate getting like that, but I don't really know how to stop. Ah, but I'm not angry.”

Sam shifted in his spot on the bed, squeezing Colby's pinky for a moment. “I feel like you always hold back your anger with me.”

“Maybe,” admitted Colby, “but I don't think I've ever learned how to be angry with you.”

“You should,” said Sam, averting his gaze. “You’re always holding back with me. But not… ah, fuck. It’s not just about your anger, okay? I feel like you’re holding back with everything. Don’t hold back.”

Colby was definitely not allowed into Heaven after all the thoughts that appeared in his brain after hearing those words. Lord Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

“Sure,” mumbled Colby after a moment, swallowing around nothing. “I won’t hold back.”

Sam smiled — bright and honest and so happy it made Colby’s heart clench — scooting just an inch closer. “Thanks,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut. “I appreciate that. Love you, man.”

Colby was fifteen again, so foolishly in love with his best friend once more. 

“I love you, too.”

Later that evening, they both agreed on walking around the city, visiting all the favorite spots they discovered over the years. They also thought it was going to make good content, packing their camera, just to get some footage together, maybe as an exclusive video. Or maybe they were going to keep it for themselves. Who knew. 

As they walked through the woods, Colby couldn't help, but keep looking around — ghosts bound to nature were much different from the usual ghosts he'd been seeing these days. They were peeking from behind trees, looking at them curiously, while some were glaring from a nearby river. 

It was bizarre, but Colby found himself getting used to it more and more. It also seemed like the ghosts were becoming more accepting the more he got used to it. 

Accept yourself to get accepted, or whatever was happening there. 

“You keep looking around,” noted Sam, raising one eyebrow. They were walking down a narrow trail, their shoulders brushing against each other. “What's that about?”

Colby turned his head to look at Sam, rubbing the back of his neck. “It's nothing, really.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You do know that you can't lie to me, right?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I mean, you try, but you always fail. Terribly so.”

“Oh, really?” mumbled Colby, pursing his lips. 

“Yeah, really,” huffed Sam, rolling his eyes and raising his eyebrows for a brief moment. “Like the other day? When we… when we had that fight? Yeah, you were hiding something and you lied through your fucking teeth. Now, you’re pulling the same shit.” 

Colby refused to have another argument with Sam. Nah, there was no fucking way he was going to get provoked. He was above whatever this was. It didn’t matter that Sam knew about all the minute things that made him explode. He wasn’t going to give in. 

“You’re doing it again,” muttered Sam through gritted teeth. 

“Doing what?” sighed Colby, raising his eyebrows.

“Holding back,” replied Sam, walking up to him — his steps were slow, deliberate, as he invaded his personal space. Well, it wasn’t like they hadn’t been sharing the same personal bubble for the past few years. “I told you not to do it. Are you angry? Then get fucking angry.”

Colby took in a deep breath, his mind immediately fighting against the anger that started to simmer deep inside him. He wasn't lying when he'd said that he never learned how to be angry with Sam — his first instinct had always consisted of pushing it down as soon as possible, always telling himself that his best friend didn't deserve it. It'd never seemed fair. 

“Why do you want me to get angry so much?” asked Colby after a moment, frowning. “I just… Shouldn't you be glad I don't angry with you?”

Sam averted his gaze, his hands curling into fists. “I don't know.”

Colby scoffed, “Remember how you said you can tell I'm lying? Yeah, same here, dude, so how about you just spit it out?”

For a long moment, an uncomfortable silence stretched between them — the ghosts even stopped roaming around, as if to witness the drama happening before them. Perhaps, they needed some drama in their lives. Colby assumed life in a forest got boring quite quickly. 

“Sammy,” murmured Colby, carefully reaching his hand out to Sam, placing it on his best friend's forearm. “Why do you want me to get angry with you?”

Colby watched as Sam's lip quivered, before he harshly bit it, as if to stop the movement. He stepped closer, until they were almost standing chest to chest. 

“I feel like I keep fucking up,” confessed Sam, his voice quiet. “Ever since we've started this, I feel like I've been putting you through so much shit. Even—even at the beginning,” he stammered, “when we didn't really know what we were doing. In the UK? At that graveyard? Or at the Conjuring house with the basement,” he added, his breathing picking up. “And, fuck, the last time with the dolls? I could've put you in so much fucking danger!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide.

“Sam, it's fine. I don't care about that, anymore,” said Colby, keeping his voice even — Sam was stumbling over his own words, talking too fast. 

“You should! You should fucking care!” yelled Sam, his voice echoing through the woods. “You should be angry, but you're a fucking Saint!”

Colby cleared his throat, before biting the inside of his cheek. Okay, it seemed like Sam was far too worked up to listen right now. Instead, he simply squeezed Sam's forearm, as if to show his best friend that he was here.

“I know why I do this,” continued Sam, his breathing ragged. “I need—I need to prove this to myself. But I've been putting you through so much shit. Over and over again. You should hate me,” he whispered, his voice cracking. 

“Alright, let me stop you right here, okay?” said Colby, his voice firm, but not unkind. He wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling him against his chest. “I could never hate you. The same way I never learned how to be angry with you, I also have no idea how to hate you.”

Sam didn't answer, instead simply hid his face in the crook of Colby's neck. 

“You also made me out to be much better than I actually am,” continued Colby, his hand rubbing absent-minded circles on Sam's back. “I'm not some kind of Saint. I have so many flaws, dude. I don't think before speaking, I bottle up my emotions, I leave the dishes in the sink, instead of washing them…”

Sam snorted weakly, clutching at the fabric of Colby's shirt. “But those aren't so bad. It's not like you're actively hurting me, or—”

“What about the prank?” asked Colby, cutting Sam off. 

“I don't hold it against you,” mumbled Sam against Colby's throat. “It's been a long time.”

“Yeah, the same way I don't hold any of this against you,” replied Colby. Slowly, as if not to startle Sam, he buried his fingers in his best friend's hair, gently scratching his scalp. He knew he was indulging, but for once he allowed himself to have this. 

“I'm still doing it. You learned,” whispered Sam, but his words lacked any real fight. His body was slowly going slack in Colby's hands, and he just wondered for how long Sam had been holding this in. 

Colby only shrugged, keeping his movements careful, not wanting to disturb Sam too much. “Well, we're always learning. It's not like one day you suddenly become this best version of yourself, or something like that. We keep going. Onward and upward, remember?”

Sam hummed softly in response. “Yeah. Onward and upward.”

For a long moment, they simply stood in the middle of the woods, as Colby held Sam in his arms. It was comforting.

Over the course of the years, they’d abandoned the definition of a personal space, instead opting to merge their two personal spaces together. Colby’s mother had always said they became rather co-dependent, even when they were just kids. Maybe she was correct. At this point of his life, Colby couldn’t possibly imagine his life without Sam — it’d been ‘Sam and Colby’ for far too long to suddenly change it. 

Who cared if being co-dependent was healthy, or not? Colby had never needed anyone, but Sam in his life. 

“Are you feeling better?” asked Colby after a moment, pulling away just enough to look at Sam properly. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, as he desperately fought the tears. 

“Yeah,” murmured Sam, wiping under his eyes with the back of his hand. “Fuck, I hate that I cry this much.”

Colby chuckled, carefully cupping Sam’s cheek. He was pushing it now, he was fully aware of it, but Sam had yet to say anything about it. “Maybe you’re crying for me, too,” he noted, shrugging one shoulder. 

Sam snorted at the statement, raising his eyebrows. “When was the last time you cried?” he asked. 

Colby could’ve answered that immediately — it was rather easy to remember those emotional moments, as he didn’t have that many of them. He remembered crying on the day Sam had decided take photos of all the haunted dolls. 

“I don’t know,” he said instead, trying to keep his voice even. 

“You’re lying again,” mumbled Sam, but didn’t press. It seemed like all the emotions had drained him off of all the fight for the day. Maybe tomorrow he was going to press once more, but for today, he simply leaned back against Colby

Colby put his chin on top of Sam’s head, humming softly. “I am.”

There was no reason to lie anymore. They had known each other for far too long to bother with these foolish statements — it was hard to hide the truth from someone that knew you better than yourself. It didn’t even matter how well they learned how to hide the truth from their families, friends, and even fans. None of it matter, for when they stood before each other they were stripped bare off of all the walls and lies they created. 

They were themselves. They looked at each other and saw their own reflections. And wasn’t that just so terrifying? 

They both made different friends over the years, but at the end of day, they came back to each other. Because no one could understand Colby better than Sam. And no one could understand Sam better than Colby. 

“Will you ever tell me the truth?” asked Sam, once they started walking back. They opted for interlocking their pinkies — they both needed the physical contact at the moment, even as if neither of them were going to voice this need. 

Colby thought about the answer, as he looked around them. The ghosts were still watching, observing, and it made his face turn into a grimace. Could he truly not have a private conversation with his best friend without ghosts eavesdropping? 

“I want to,” admitted Colby after a moment. “I just don’t… hm. I haven’t really made a peace with it? I guess I need to sit with it for a while.”

Sam nodded, squeezing Colby’s pinky. “That’s okay. And I know I shouldn’t demand from you to tell me everything,” he added, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “I haven’t told you about a lot of things before. It’s not, well… It’s not exactly fair, is it?” 

“I guess not,” agreed Colby. 

Sam looked at him with a soft smile. He seemed to be a little lighter now, making Colby return the smile. “I love you. More than anyone on this planet. It doesn’t matter where we are and what we do. I’ll love you no matter what. Until the end, yeah?”

Colby swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, his mouth dry. Sam had always been so full of love, even as he was reluctant to give it out — with the sole exception of Colby. Not once had Sam hesitated to show his love to Colby, and yes, he absolutely let it get into his head. Because who didn’t want to be loved by Sam Golbach? By the boy that as a teenager hated himself, but found enough love in himself to give it to Colby? By the boy that was reckless, brave, and possessed the most beautiful soul of them all? 

“I love you, too.”

Colby was fifteen once more and giving his love back to Sam was the easiest thing in the world. 

Gage managed to visit that very evening, and Colby had no idea how to feel. Again, he’d been missing his older brother like a little kid these days, but it was oh so much more complicated than that. Because missing him meant exactly that — he was just a little kid once again, and frankly? He did not like that feeling at all. 

“You came,” was the first thing Colby said, when he stepped into the living room. 

Gage turned his head to look at Colby, before standing up from the couch. His older brother moved with nonchalance that Colby tried to copy over the years, but failed each time he’d intended it. Gage had his life together for as long as he could recall. 

“Well, I had to, didn’t I?” mused Gage. He patted Colby on the shoulder, before squeezing it. “You finally decided to show up in the city, so it was hard to resist. Let me tell you, I wouldn’t travel across the country just for anyone, so you better appreciate it.”

Colby barked out a laugh. “Oh, right, because it was such a big sacrifice, I’m sure.”

“It was, actually,” said Gage, nodding his head solemnly, but the corners of his mouth were twitching, as he tried to fight the smile. “Are you being ungrateful again? Did the big, scary LA finally change you?” 

“And when have I ever been ungrateful?” asked Colby, his lower lip sticking out in a pout. 

Colby was fifteen again, getting picked on by his older brother that he respected and adored more than anyone in this world. Perhaps, aside from Sam. But he assumed the respect he craved from Gage was far different — there was also the recognition he’d always hoped for.

Was Gage ever going to see Colby for him? 

Gage hummed, pursing his lips. “I could stand here all day and tell you all about it.” 

“Now you’re just big a dick,” mumbled Colby, smacking Gage’s shoulder as hard as he could. Gage returned it immediately by running his knuckles over Colby’s head, making him yelp. 

“Is this how you treat your older brother?” hissed Gage, harshly ruffling Colby’s — he was pretty sure it was all tangled now. “Who raised you?” 

“Boys!” called their mom from the kitchen, making them both freeze. Who cared they were grown adults? Colby was fifteen and Gage was seventeen once more, getting scolded for the most pointless fights in the universe. 

Maybe it didn’t matter how much Colby was going to grow, or where he was going to move. Because the moment he stepped back, nothing had ever changed. He was the same person — just a boy, who adored his big brother and had the most codependent friendship known to man. 

“You alright?” asked Gage, once it seemed like their mom wasn’t going to actually scold them for arguing. 

“No.”

Colby could’ve lied. He should’ve lied, as it seemed to be the best course of action here. But if he was being completely honest, he was so very tired. Who would’ve known that lying to his best friend was going to be this very tiring? 

Gage only nodded, cocking his head in the direction of the stairs. It seemed like he sensed this wasn’t a conversation for anyone else. They sat down on a bed in Gage’s room, facing each other. For a moment, they were both quiet, as Colby tried to put his thoughts in order. It was rather difficult — there was too much happening, and it also didn’t help that there was a fucking ghost standing in the corner. 

Because Colby couldn’t catch a fucking break. 

“Come on,” said Gage, “lay it on me.”

“I see ghosts. I can also apparently command them to do…. Whatever I want. No, Sam doesn’t know, because I feel like he’s going to be angry with me, because I’m standing between him and getting levitated by a ghost, since it looks like I’m the one protecting him this entire time. Oh, and speaking of Sam, I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with him. Like, all over again, which is terrifying, because I feel like I’m fifteen again. I’ve been home for two days, and I’ve been feeling like I regressed back,” said Colby in one breath, before sharply inhaling air into his lungs. 

Gage blinked slowly, before pursing his lips. “Well, that was a lot.”

“You think?” huffed Colby, rolling his eyes. 

“How about we try to go part by part, hm?” said Gage, keeping his voice even. His older brother had always been the most rational person, approaching thing methodically. “So, ghosts?” 

Colby nodded, rubbing his eyes. “There’s one in the corner of the room. Pretty sure I’ve seen them hanging around yesterday, too. They’re not… malicious by any means. I think,” he added, frowning. 

“That’s reassuring,” quipped Gage, nodding his head. “And commanding them?” 

“Yeah,” mumbled Colby, picking at the skin around his nails. “I talked to Ashley. You know, Pythian Priestess?” he added, watching, as Gage nodded. “She said it’s not demonic, or anything like that, so I’ll take her word for it. It’s just a little scary, I guess. There are a shit ton of ghosts in the woods, too.”

“Okay, that’s kinda cool,” replied Gage, leaning back on his hands. “But I’m pretty sure it was bound to happen.”

Colby frowned, tilting his head. “What do you mean?” 

“Ah, you might not remember,” said Gage, shrugging one shoulder, “you were, what? Four? Maybe five? I remember finding you in your room talking to someone, but no one was there. I never told anyone, since you were so young, and I thought that you just had an imaginary friend, but then you and Sam started this whole paranormal stuff and here we are.”

“Huh,” mumbled Colby, folding his hands in his lap, fiddling with his fingers, just so he had something else to focus on. 

“Alright, now let’s move to the other part,” continued Gage, looking almost unbothered. It helped Colby get grounded in all the things he’d been feeling. “Sam?” 

“Sam,” sighed Colby, flopping down on the bed. 

Gage grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “Again, yet another thing that was bound to happen. I remember the first time you brought Sam home, and I could see how fucking down bad you were.”

“Shut up,” groaned Colby, pressing his palms against his eyes. He could feel his cheeks heating up, but he absolutely refused to acknowledge it. He was not blushing over the fact that his brother was calling him out on his crush, thank you very much. After all, he was a grown-ass man that was above such foolish things. 

“I have to add, though,” said Gage, “that you’re being stupid.”

Colby lifted his hands from his face, glaring at his brother. “Why do you have to call me an idiot, when I’m being vulnerable? You’re being very insensitive.” 

Gage rolled his eyes so hard that Colby thought they were going to get stuck that way. “I’m calling you an idiot, because I know that Sam also likes you. He’s just in too much denial to do something about it. I spent too many years watching you two dance around each other; it’s exhausting.” 

“He doesn’t… You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” mumbled Colby, shifting his gaze to the ceiling instead. “It still doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to be fucking pissed, when he finds out that I’m stopping the ghosts from throwing him against the wall.” 

“Yeah, he’s going to be pissed for about five minutes, before he’ll want to talk to you again,” muttered Gage, completely bored. “You’ve heard this countless times, but you two have the most co-dependent friendship I’ve ever seen. Literally attached to the hip.”

“But what if this is what makes him stop talking to me?” asked Colby, his voice carrying a desperate edge to it. He propped himself on his elbows to look at Gage, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Then what? I can’t lose him!” 

“And what if the world was made out of pudding?” asked Gage, heaving a deep, exhausted sigh. “You ask the stupidest questions, I swear to God.”

Colby pouted, narrowing his eyes. “This is bullying.”

“It's brotherly love, actually,” said Gage, his tone light. Then, his expression morphed into something more serious, as he scooted closer to Colby. “Listen to me. And you actually have to listen to me, instead of that half-assed thing you usually do when you just act like a brat.”

“I don't do that,” muttered Colby, rolling his eyes. 

“Hush,” huffed Gage, waving his hand. “I don't think I've ever seen someone click better than you and Sam. In pretty much everything, actually. You know how it's said that some people are just meant to meet? That's you and Sam. The first time I saw the two of you together, I knew you were going to spend the rest of your lives together. There's no other way around it.”

Colby sat up, shifting in his seat. “But what if—”

“If I hear you say another ‘what if' scenario that's never gonna happen, I'm going to smack you,” hissed Gage, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please, for the love of God, spare me that bullshit and save it for someone that'll entertain it. And guess what? That someone ain't me.”

“My fears are fucking valid!” exclaimed Colby, throwing his arms up in the air. “Both about the ghost situation and being in love with Sam!”

“They aren't valid, you dumbass,” muttered Gage, flicking Colby's forehead, making him yelp. “I've seen how you two act around each other for over a decade now. Sam couldn't possibly love someone more than he loves you. It's a fact. And no ghosts are going to change that.”

Colby felt his shoulders slumping at the statement, all the arguments leaving him. He knew how his brother was — similar to his parents when it came to that brutal honesty. 

For a moment, they simply sat in silence, as Colby pondered over his brother’s words. He had always been aware of the fact that whatever he and Sam had was… special. He had yet to meet someone whose relationship was similar to theirs. They'd seen each other at their lowest, and yet they couldn't stop gravitating towards each other. No matter how much they fucked up, they still chose each other — Sam and Colby against the world. 

“I really love him,” whispered Colby, pulling one knee to his chest. “I'm in love with him.”

Gage smiled, ruffling Colby's hair. “Yeah, I know.”

Over the course of the following days, both Sam and Colby had decided to simply… exist. It was some unspoken thing that they agreed on without even actually bringing it up. After so many years on YouTube, they had this habit of trying to capture every moment just to have something to show to their audience. This time, though, they opted for leaving the cameras out of this. 

It actually felt freeing to have these moments for themselves. Except for one post on their shared account, telling their fans they were taking a short break, they stayed away from posting completely. All the photos and videos were only for their eyes. 

Actually, Colby found himself taking far too many candid pictures of Sam — in his childhood room, out in the woods, in the backyard of Colby’s house, or in the car, when Sam decided to be the one driving. 

They were fifteen again and they were unstoppable. 

“Hey,” said Sam. 

“Hm?” mumbled Colby, looking up from the paperbag in his lap. They had been sitting in the parking lot of a nearby fast food place, deciding to eat in the car, as they couldn’t find a single empty table inside. They had been driving around for the most part of the day, letting the music play too loudly, as they screeched the lyrics on top of their lungs. 

Sam fiddled with the paper wrapper of his burger, his eyes roaming around the interior of the car, before finally looking at Colby. “Can you tell me?” 

There was no need to specify what he was talking about — Colby was fully aware that Sam was going to bring it up once more, sooner or later, this time not letting go, until he was getting his answer. 

“I…” Colby trailed off, shrugging his shoulders uselessly. “I don’t even know where to start. It’s a lot. And like, I’m not even being dramatic — it’s just a shit ton of things happening at the same time.”

“Okay,” said Sam, nodding his head. He set the paper bag on the dashboard, before Colby followed suit. “Just start. Tell me all of it — I’ll understand. It’s you, and I always get you. You should know that by now.” 

Colby swallowed around nothing, his mouth feeling far too dry. The words were failing him, his heart was beating too fast, and his chest felt far too tight. Despite that, he pushed through — this was all for Sam. Because, at the end of the day, it’d always been all for Sam. For him, Colby was willing to burn everything down, not feeling an ounce of regret. 

“I can see ghosts. And, yeah, I guess you might say that it’s not that surprising, because it seems like everyone had a hunch, but me. But it’s not just that,” Colby sucked in a sharp breath, “I can command them. I’ve been giving them orders, and they do it. But—but,” he stammered, digging his nails into his palms, “that’s not all. I’m the one protecting you. The reason why you haven’t been decked against the wall by a ghost? Yeah, all my fault. All my fucking fault. I’m sorry.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t speak. Instead, he gestures with one hand, prompting Colby to speak, as if he knew there was more to this. 

“I know I’m taking away this conjuring experience from you,” continued Colby, his voice wavering, even as he forced the words out. “But I can’t lose you. I just can’t, okay? Be angry all you want, but I want you alive. I need you alive.” 

Sam was quiet for a long moment, picking at the skin around his nails. The only noise in the car was Colby’s heavy breathing, while he intently watched Sam. The tension in the air was fucking suffocating. 

“You’re still not telling me everything,” sighed Sam after a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That’s… well, that’s not… I….” Colby promptly shut his mouth, gritting his teeth. All the words were suddenly failing him — it wasn’t like he was the most eloquent person out there, but fuck, couldn’t he at least say something in his defense? 

Sam only raised one eyebrow, pursing his lips, before finally speaking up, “I’m not angry that you’re keeping away the conjuring experience from me,” he said slowly, licking his lips, and Colby tried not to stare for too long, “but I am angry you kept this from me. And that you’re keeping other things from me,” he added.

Colby nodded, still unable to form a proper response. 

“I just… Do you not trust me?” asked Sam. “Did you really think I would’ve, I don’t know, hated you because of this?” 

“No!” blurted out Colby. “Yes,” he admitted with a wince. “I’m sorry. I was just so fucking scared. I can’t lose you and I just need you in my life more than anything. And I just…” he trailed off once more with a groan, burying his face in his hands. 

“You what?” asked Sam, his voice turning softer, as he put one hand on Colby’s shoulder. “I’m here for you, you know that, right?”

Colby looked up from his hands, instead shifting his gaze to Sam. He swallowed around nothing, having a mental battle with himself that turned to be rather short-lived. Instead, he opted for grabbing Sam by his shirt, yanking him closer. Before Sam could say anything at all, Colby pressed their lips together. 

Over the years, Colby had kissed many people, but he was sure this just had to be the best kiss of life. Yes, it was uncoordinated and messy, but it was Sam he was kissing and that alone made it into something far more special. 

He quickly pulled away, his cheeks warm. Again, he’d kissed many people before — he’d had sex for fuck’s sake, and yet here he was, blushing like a virgin. Had the situation been different, he would’ve laughed. 

“I’m so sorry,” breathed Colby, digging his nails into his palms. “That was… I shouldn’t have done that and—”

“Colby?” 

He licked his lips, still tasting Sam on his tongue. “Yeah?” 

“Shut up.” 

This time, it was Sam that leaned closer, kissing Colby, before he could do anything at all. He buried one hand in Colby’s hair, pulling on it — Colby was forever going to deny the groan that tore from his throat. He cradled Sam’s face in his hands, tracing the cheekbones with his thumbs. When Sam licked at the seam of his mouth, Colby happily parted his lips. 

It was almost funny how quickly they managed to get their bearings back and find a rhythm that suited them both. Colby assumed that knowing someone for that long definitely helped — even in a situation like this. They matched each other in ways that was hard to explain, but made a complete sense to them. 

Sam nipped at Colby’s lower lip, before he pulled away with a small smirk. They remained close, their breaths mingling together. For a long moment, they didn’t speak, instead looking at each other, as if they were both trying to engrave this memory into their brains; that was at least what Colby was doing. 

“Was this the other thing you were so worried about?” asked Sam, his voice low, as he raised one eyebrow. 

Colby bit the inside of his cheek. “Yeah,” he muttered. 

“You’re a real fucking idiot, I hope you know,” noted Sam, but there was no malice behind the words. He leaned in, pressing soft kisses all over his face, making Colby giggle. What had his life come to? He was almost thirty, and here he was, giggling. 

“Jeez, thanks,” mumbled Colby, trying and failing to sound annoyed. He allowed himself to get lost in the moment, focusing on Sam’s presence. His hand still idly playing with his hair. His lips against his face. Oh, and if that wasn’t everything he’d ever wanted. 

“At this point,” spoke Sam again, looking Colby in the eyes, “I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else. I tried to think about it before, y’know? But it never really worked. You’re meant to be in my life.”

Colby nodded, his throat suddenly tightening with emotion. “I’ve known for over a half on my life,” he croaked. “I can’t be without you.”

Sam pressed their foreheads together, sighing softly. “But you have to promise me to stop holding back with me. You also have to stop bottling everything, just to protect me, or some shit like that. I don’t… I hate the fact that I’ve hurt you before.”

“I know. I’ll work on it,” murmured Colby. “Hey, Sam?” 

“Hm?” 

Colby smiled, bright and honest. “I love you.” 

Sam chuckled, “Yeah, I figured that much,” he quipped. “I love you, too.”

Colby was twenty-nine and he had everything he’d ever dreamed of. 

Colby was twenty-nine and he was exactly where he was supposed to be; by Sam’s side.

Colby was twenty-nine and loving Sam was just as easy as it was at fifteen.