Drop Dead | Sam Fender

Chapter Seventy One

Sam

It had been over a week since I had last spoken to Rory. Her grounding meant that I had no means of contacting her, which made for a really boring week for us all. Without Rory to occupy Harlow, Harlow hogged Dean, which meant I didn't see him as much. It was the same case for Jess and Tom, and Drew and Joe were busy with their own things. My free time outside of work was therefore spent writing songs to entertain myself. It was lucky it wasn't something I ever grew bored of.

I frowned when I heard knocking on our front door, not expecting to have any visitors. I delicately placed my guitar back on its stand and padded out of my room to answer it.

"Rory?" I questioned. "What are yer doing here? I thought yer were grounded."

"Dad ended my punishment early," she shrugged as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket. Although it was mid-June, it wasn't the warmest out. Consequences of living in the Northeast of Britain I guessed.

"Come in," I told her, stepping aside to let her in. Like clockwork, her feet led her to my room and I was hot on her heels, shutting the door behind me. She wore a troubled expression on her face as her crystal blue eyes illustrated the war going on in her head. "Everything alreet?"

"Sam," she spoke urgently but immediately retreated into herself. "Never mind."

"What is it?" I frowned as I stepped towards her, reaching a hand to hold her elbow, the closest I was comfortable with getting before I couldn't trust myself to restrain myself.

"It's nothing, forget about it," she smiled, brushing her hair off her face.

"Ya know yer can talk to me, Scarl," I told her. "What's wrong?"

"Yer weren't... with me oot of sympathy, were yer?" she mumbled under her breath, so quiet I almost didn't hear it. Her chin was tilted towards the floor, which prevented me from seeing the no-doubt look of shame on her face.

"What? No!" I interjected with a frown. "Why would yer think that?"

"It's stupid," she whispered.

"It's not stupid," I assured her, placing my index finger beneath her chin and forcing her to look at me. "Has someone made yer feel like that?"

Her eyes widened as they met mine, her mouth gaping open. "No, of course not," she told me. In my concern for her, I missed the way the corner of her mouth twitched, something she did when she wasn't being entirely truthful.

"Why... why d'ya think that?" I asked cautiously.

Tears began welling in her eyes as she shrugged her shoulders. "I- I've just been reading through my journal and I realised how fucked up I am," she explained.

"Oh, darlin'," I sighed, pulling her into my arms. She immediately nuzzled into my chest without thinking like it was a natural response for her body, which it was. "I'm just as fucked up as you are." She let out a quiet laugh. "Yer weren't with me oot of sympathy, were ya?"

"No!" she gasped, ripping away from me to stare up at me in disbelief. "How could yer think that?"

"Exactly," I smiled fondly.

"Oh," she murmured in realisation, the frown melting into something softer.

"Truth be told, Scarlett..." I began nervously as I held her at arm's length so I could look at her. "These past two and a half months without yer have been hell. I-I've really missed yer, missed us."

"Really?" she whispered. Her tone was disbelieving, almost as though she thought I was going to yell out 'I'm just kidding!' at any moment.

"Yeah," I breathed as I lifted a hand to brush away a stray piece of hair that had fallen in her face, it lingering there as I lost myself in her eyes. "Every single time I'm with yer, all I wanna do is just pull you into my arms and kiss yer and not being able to do that has really put things into perspective. I've had a lot of time to think and... I know that if there's one thing I'm certain of in life, it's that I want to spend the rest of it with you."

"Yer mean that?" she asked with watery eyes as she subconsciously leaned into my touch. I nodded. My stomach dropped as a strangled sob escaped her lips and tears began streaming down her face.

"Why're yer crying for?" I questioned with urgency, wiping away her tears with the pads of my thumbs. She shook her head furiously and collapsed in my chest, her arms wrapping around me like a vine as she clung to me for dear life. "Rory."

"I-I just mis- missed yer, s'all," she sobbed into the crook of my neck. "I'm sorry, it's just been a shite week."

"Don't be sorry, yer dafty," I laughed lightly as I stroked her hair comfortingly. "C'mon, let's have a cuddle."

I shifted her gently, hoisting her upwards, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist as I carried her over to my bed, which wasn't a far trek, thankfully. Although I was able to pick her up, I probably wouldn't be able to for very long due to my lack of upper body strength. It was laughable really. I dropped her gently on the sheets and climbed in beside her, Rory crawling into my open arms immediately. A comfortable silence washed over us, welcome in every way, almost like there was an unspoken agreement between us to just enjoy each other's company as I dropped the occasional kiss to her hair.

And in that moment, neither of us needed anything more.