I'm Exhausted (Samcedes)

Chapter Two

"We all have secrets" Mr Schue continues. He scans all of his students, prompting them perhaps. Prompting them to think long and hard about what he's saying, music is nothing without emotion blah blah blah. Sam knows he's probably right, but it all sounds a bit pointless to him. If he were to sing his heart out he'd be laughed out of Lima. And rightly so.

Still, Sam swears Mr Schue looks at him for just a second longer. Knowingly. It sends Sam's heart plummeting to his stomach. Can everyone see? Is each ounce of fat a reminder that he doesn't belong there? Finn has the rockstar presence, the athletic ability. Puckerman has the ladies swooning over him (which doesn't appeal to Sam in the slightest, but it doesn't negate the fact that Puck outshines him). Kurt has the energy and the queue of lovelorn boys and girls begging for his advice and wisdom. Artie and Santana have that rasp and resonance Sam craves. Mike and Brittany have the moves, the agility that Sam could have if he weren't so hefty. Tina and Quinn have this soft, angelic nature to their voices that could soothe an entire ward of screaming children to sleep. Rachel and Blaine have the star quality, Broadway, fame, fortune, it's written all over them. And Mercedes...well, she has it all. Brains, beauty, a voice descended from the heavens and a shimmering smile to match it. And she's his. Somehow. Sam has absolutely none of that. He dreams about it day and night. But dreaming doesn't make it so, however many stars he wishes on.

"I want each and every one of you to dig deep. I want you to reach that part of you that we've never seen before. Truth is more than just what we can see - it's hidden in plain sight. It's what you kick yourself for not seeing in the first place. It's realisation." Mr Schue continues for another minute or so, hand gestures galore. Sam could almost laugh. How ironic it all is.

"Each of you will perform a solo at the end of the week. I want no excuses, guys, this is important. It's not just about getting to know each other - I've seen you do that wonderfully over the past year - it's about getting to know yourselves." Mr Schue waffles on and on about the power of honesty and vulnerability, which Sam finds absurd considering truth has brought him nothing but humiliation. He remembers what happened when the truth got out about his homelessness. Everyone does.

Mercedes laces her fingers through Sam's and rests a gentle head on his tense shoulder. A small smile creeps onto his face. She smells amazing. He has no idea what it is: lavender, vanilla, lemonade, coffee, autumn? He doesn't care. She smells like home.

She feels like home.

"Any ideas?" she whispers as she tucks  her head into his neck. I don't know, Mercedes, he thinks, is there a song called I'd probably just off myself if it weren't for you? "Not sure yet. Maybe something Coldplay. I feel like they're pretty damn truthful." he replies. A sense of pride washes over him at the energy he's managed to feign. It's a skill that comes so easily to him now. Practice makes perfect, as Mr Schue would say. In truth Sam hasn't a sliver of energy these days, even the walk from his car to school is a trial. Singing used to be so easy, didn't it? Living, too. Wasn't that supposed to be a given? He never thought it would get to the point where it hurts to exist.

"Great idea!" Mercedes sing-songs, stripping Sam swiftly from his daydream. Or nightmare, whichever fits. "I kind of have an idea. Maybe it'll be a surprise." she adds. Her happiness seems so genuine Sam wonders how on Earth she ever falls for his. Maybe he should be in the school play. He laughs internally at the thought. Even if he had the talent, with all due respect he could never survive 3 hour rehearsals a week with Rachel screaming down his ear about how she's the star of this show and every little mistake hinders her performance and how this will all be going on record to NYADA and just a painfully long woe-me soliloquy about how she needs applause to live. "I can't wait." Sam says warmly before pressing a gentle kiss to Mercedes' hair.

All of a sudden, after the sound of Mr Schue's lecture seems to have faded, Finn slides his chair next to Sam's. "Hey." he says, offering no explanation as to why he's hurried over so urgently. "Hey?" Sam responds. Mercedes lifts her head from where she'd been resting on his shoulder, a childish pang of disappointment hitting Sam. He just wants her close. Always. "Can I have a word with you later?" Finn queries. Sam feels his heart plummet again. What, Finn? What is it? Tell me now before my brain implodes. "In private."