I'm Exhausted (Samcedes)

Chapter Three

Sam's face washes white. Finn isn't onto him. No. No. He can't be. Sam is meticulous, he never misses a detail. He was flimsy when he lived in that motel. He let other people get involved and he underestimated just how intrusive 16-year-olds can be. This time he knows what to do. It's simple, really. He could be much thinner if he'd thought of it before.
1) Stick to your calorie limit
2) If you go over the calorie limit that's an extra hour of exercise and/or
3) Purge
4) Shower on. Music to the maximum. No one will ever know.
5) Appear to eat in front of friends and family. Talk about how delicious it is and how much you love it.
6) Never ever mention weight or dieting: that's suspicious.
7) Tell no one. Not even Mercedes. She'd only worry.

That last step is the hardest. Sam can bear the persistent cravings, the hunger pangs, the fatigue, the aches, the sore throat, the coldness, but what he can't bear is lying to Mercedes. He can't bear the way her face falls when he has to tell her they won't be going out to a restaurant that night. If he could, he really would, but sitting face to face with someone in a restaurant full of people where the bathroom will likely be full of strangers isn't ideal. It doesn't fit the plan.

"Is there something wrong?" Sam asks, trying his best to sound clueless. Finn smiles kindly in return, which eases Sam's mind just a little. "No, no. Just need to talk to you." And with that the boy has slid back over to the spot next to his girlfriend, Miss Rachel Berry. "What was that about?" asks Mercedes in a hush tone. Sam just shrugs. I wish I knew.

After an hour of listening to Rachel sing "Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word" (she and Finn seemed to have argued in the fifteen minutes that passed before she performed her tearful rendition), watching Mike try to teach Puck how to dance and sitting through a very uncomfortable duet between Tina and Mr Schue, the bell finally rings for lunchtime. Sam's stomach is roaring at him louder than ever but he simply wraps his arms tightly around his stomach and bites his inner cheeks in an attempt to suppress the pain. It doesn't work at the best of times, let alone when he can smell the waffles wafting in from the cafeteria. He used to love waffles - now they terrify him. Still, he thinks he kind of deserves the self-torture, and with that though he digs his nails a little deeper into his skin.

He remembers that Finn wants to talk to him. Of course he remembers - it's all he's thought about. That and how many calories he can away with eating today (which, to the dismay of Sam's stomach, isn't many at all). He doesn't want to talk to Finn, though. Sam, however ashamed he is of this skill, is an excellent liar. A confident wreck. But today it just so happens that he is absolutely exhausted, and if Finn manages to pull at one loose thread on the intricate web of lies Sam has weaved for himself then the entire thing might just unravel. This turmoil in mind, Sam makes a break for the door, eyes firmly fixed on the floor. Mercedes is just to his side, joined by their interlaced fingers, but she's too busy gossiping to Kurt to notice Sam's haste. He doesn't catch much of what they're saying, just the traces of some catty comments made about Rachel. If he weren't so tired he'd probably laugh. Most of the time he passionately agrees.

"Sam!" Finn calls out from behind. Shit, Sam thinks. Plan A for avoiding an awkward and potentially progress-threatening interrogation has gone out the window and Plan B is, well...non-existent. Sam plasters on his friendliest smile and turns around, letting Mercedes' hand fall so she can carry on her tattle with Kurt. When she looks back to him in concern he gestures to her "One minute" and with that she gives him an understanding smile and disappears down the corridor, linking arms with her best friend. "What's up?" Sam asks, trying his best not to sound absolutely petrified.
"Promise you won't get mad if I ask you this?"
"Why would I get mad?"
"Just promise me."
"Okay...I promise."
Finn inhales deeply, doing nothing to ease Sam's racing heart. "Are you...on something?" A tangible silence hangs in the air, until Finn speaks again: "Drugs."