Sam
I was awoken by the sound of someone banging on the front door of my flat, which I would have just ignored had they not been so persistent. I groaned and rolled over onto my back, feeling Sophie's curious eyes watching me tiredly.
"Aren't you gonna answer that?" she inquired as she pulled the covers higher to protect her bare skin from the cool chill of my room.
"Mmm," I hummed reluctantly, throwing my legs over the side of my bed and hastily throwing on a pair of joggers that had been strewn on the floor the night prior. With that, I made the short walk to the front door, which was still being knocked on quite furiously and groaned, "I'm coming!" Swinging the door open, my heart leapt into my mouth when I realised who was on the other side, and I blanked. "Harlow? What are yer doing here?"
She looked at me weirdly as she invited herself in, pushing past me and making her way into the living room. "I came to check on yer," she told me as she flopped down on the sofa. "Dean's worried about yer, ya haven't answered your phone in three days and no one's seen yer."
My eyes kept flickering between her and the door as I sat down nervously, scared of what her reaction would be if she found out about Sophie, which was stupid. I was a grown man. Hell, I was turning twenty-five in a week. "Why didn't Dean come then?" I frowned, the answer to the question for my own selfish reasons.
She snorted, "Because he knows that if sommat's gan on with yer, I'll actually be able to get it oot if yer."
My stomach flipped nervously at her revelation, knowing that she was telling the truth. She really was better at pulling things from me than anyone else, it was a gift she had that I despised. "Nowt's gan on with us, Harl. Just been writing like, must've gotten carried away. Y'kna what I'm like sometimes," I shrugged, hoping it would be enough to deter the bloodhound in front of me.
"I do," she admitted, which steadied my worries for a single moment but she continued, "It's why I don't believe yer."
"What?" I choked, wondering if this was it for me. Had she already known about the girl tucked away in my bedroom and waiting for me to slip up to pounce? "Harl-"
"It's alreet, Sam," she smiled, although it unsettled my stomach. "I get it."
"Y-ya do?" I frowned. Was this some sort of practical joke? I found myself subconsciously looking around for the cameras.
"Aye," she laughed lightly, resting a comforting hand on my forearm, her touch setting my skin alight with nerves. "I know how hard you're trying with her and I know she hasn't forgiven you yet but she will."
Oh. She was talking about Rory. I felt my shoulders relax as the tension was momentarily relieved from my body. "Yer think so?" I asked hopefully. All thoughts of Sophie had been washed away and replaced with the woman at the pinnacle of my life and career; the reason I was the man I was today.
She nodded. "The note was proper cute by the way," she teased, sending the blood rushing to my cheeks as I flushed darkly.
"Yer saw that?" I questioned sheepishly, scratching the back of my neck to hide my embarrassment.
"All truly is on my side when you're on my side," she mimicked.
"Fuck off, Harl," I scowled.
Blinded by the haze of what was Rory Nightingale, I didn't hear the shuffling of feet in the hallway. I was torn from the reverie by a feminine voice calling out, "Sam? Who was... at the door- hi."
Harlow's eyes hardened as they lay on Sophie, who stood in the doorway wearing nothing but one of my old tees. Any trace of familiarity and mirth had been snuffed out, replaced with iciness and disappointment.
"Every fuckin' time," Harlow spat, shaking her head at me as she stood from the sofa and began pacing. "Every. Fuckin'. Time. Sam."
"Harlow," I pleaded, standing and closing the gap between us, ignorant of the girl who stood meekly in the doorway.
"No. Don't yer dare Harlow me!" she hissed as she whirled around and jabbed her finger harshly into my chest.
"Er, w-what's happening?" Sophie asked quietly, wrapping her arms around herself subconsciously.
"This has fuck all to do with yer!" Harlow growled.
"Excuse me?" she gaped, her expression hardening as her arms dropped to her sides.
"Sophie, go back to my room," I told her.
"You're gonna let her speak to me like that?" she scoffed.
"Just go, Sophie," I huffed.
"Unbelievable," she muttered in disbelief but listened to my instructions regardless, which I was internally grateful for.
"Yer wanna explain who the fuck that is?" Harlow questioned.
"She's... a friend," I muttered.
She let out a laugh and shook her head as her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as though she was trying to calm herself. "A friend? Sleep with all your friends, do yer?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.
I rolled my eyes. "We're friends with benefits. And what?" I groaned.
"Is this whole thing with Rory just another ploy to manipulate her?" she demanded.
My face dropped at her accusation. "Manipulate her?" I gaped. "Of course not!"
"How do yer think she's gan feel when she finds out that whilst ya've been sending her flowers and notes begging her to forgive yer that you've been sleeping around with some fuckin' Instagram influencer?" she spat.
"Harlow, I've accepted the fact that Rory's probably never gan wanna be with me again, the chance of her even forgiving me is fuckin' tiny! Why does it matter that I'm sleeping with someone if we're friends?" I huffed.
"Aye, well, yer need to tell Rory that one," she hissed.
"And how the fuck do yer expect me to do that?" I scoffed. "She won't answer my texts and she's three hundred miles away!"
She let out a humourless snort, "That's part of the reason I'm here. Rory's back."
Fuck.
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Drop Dead | Sam Fender
Fanfiction'Did you come around here just to start a fight? Drop dead.' Sam's difficulty with relationships stems all the way back to his adolescence. He hasn't had it easy growing up in the Northeast of England but he managed to escape his teens unscathed. Mo...
