letters to sam • sgc

ii

It was sunny again.

I'd decided to make it a short walk today, having stayed up late to talk to Marcus. We hadn't been able to talk much for the past few days because he'd been busy at home, catching up with family and friends, as well as unpacking.

Ma had given me the mail for the Pike's old place, so I decided to make the trip after grabbing something to eat.

Their house wasn't too far away, so I didn't bother changing out of my pajamas because no one would see me anyway. We shared the same house number, although it was a different street address (obviously). The mailmen around here didn't bother trying to read- they never had. The Pike's had gotten my first acceptance letter to college. And the letter from dad telling us about April. Probably should have kept that one.

I glanced at the letters on my way down the street, seeing the name was not 'something Channing', as Ma had put it.

Samuel Claflin.

It was an odd last name, one I'd never heard before. It sounded very formal, very...founding father vibe.

I hadn't noticed yesterday if the 'for sale' sign had been covered up with that arrogant red 'SOLD' sign people love to slap on. Like, 'look at me, I bought this, suckers'. Or...whatever.

Approaching the house, I noticed not only the 'for sale' sign ripped out of the dirt and thrown halfway across the yard from where it had previously been, but also an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway. I watched with curiosity- and a little concern, now just dawdling in the street- as the screen door to the house was pushed open, and a man made his way down the short steps, heading towards the car.

He was tall. And muscular. I hadn't seen his face well, but just from the tense way he was carrying himself I could sense he was frustrated about something.

Working up the nerve, I eventually coaxed myself to walk the remaining few yards to the driveway, the letters clutched nervously in my hand.

He was reaching into the backseat of the car, trying to grab something. I didn't know really how to approach him, so instead I just stood a few feet away near the edge of the car, my heart threatening to explode out of my chest.

I could barely talk to the neighbors I had known since I was a baby, so this seemed like a horrible idea. Although it might be a good thing that he didn't know me, actually, so I could just fumble my way through this and never have to speak to him ever again.

He finally pulls back from the car, now holding a packed cardboard box in his arms. His eyes meet mine, and he just about jumps out of his skin.

"Fucking Christ,"

I don't know if I should say something, or do something, or maybe just stand as still as possible and hope he leaves. I can feel my hands starting to shake.

"Who the hell are you?" he asks abruptly, trying to regain his composure. I can hear he's got an accent, but that's not really what's on my mind right now. He's also got a very intense stare that makes me want to just melt into nothing on the ground.

"I- I'm Lola," I manage to force out. "Are you-" I glance down at the letters, though I've already memorized his name- "Sam-Samuel?" I extend them out to him, watching as he shifts the box to balance on his thigh so he can grab them.

"No need to be so formal," he mutters, taking the letters. He flips through them, seeing his name- I'm assuming- on the envelope of every one. Eventually he places them on top of the box and moves it back to both arms. "Yeah, I'm Sam."