Catch-22 | SFK

II

Nothing good ever happens after 2am.

Warnings: angst, old heartbreak and some new heartbreak, mentions of hookups, crying, breakups, arguing, high school talk, mentions of insecurities, swearing, drinking, some fluff, sorry if i miss any!

The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the earth while green grass was tickling your feet as you tumbled through it. Your parents had given up on the battle of putting your shoes on, because you kicked them off every time they thought they had won. They were sat on a porch, looking out at you every now and again to check in, but we're mostly caught up in chatter with the other set of parents sitting beside them. Life was simple; all you had to care about was toys and sleep, and maybe scoring well on a spelling test every now and again. In truth, as a six year old, there was no need to worry about anything more than that. Your whole life revolved around Disney movies and chocolate milk, shared most often with your best friend in the entire world.

Sam Kiszka was undoubtedly that person, from the very day you were born up until long after you moved away. Long before you were ever a thought in your parents heads, they had been good friends with Sam's parents. Your older sister had the same relationship with Sam's older twin brothers, and you had always been destined for the same fate. Between barbecues and beach days, school sports and sleepovers, your lives had been inevitably intertwined with the Kiszka's since your very first day on earth. You never thought to complain, mostly because you never knew the difference. They were like an extension of your own family, and in truth, you saw them more often than you saw your actual aunts and uncles.

"Y/n!" Sam exclaimed, catching your attention. Your head turned in his direction, now uncaring for the doll clasped between your hands. A smile was on your lips, excited that he wanted your attention, but it was nothing new. You loved having his attention, and you loved when he was asking for yours. He was always your biggest priority, even back when you were that young. He was running towards you, something held tightly in his hands that you couldn't see very well from the distance. You took off in a run, forever happy to meet him halfway. When you were within arms reach, he extended his hand out to you, showcasing what he was holding with pride.

"For me?" You asked, struggling with the pronunciation of the 'r' at the end of your word. The touch of the speech impediment was blatantly obvious, but he loved you too much to care about it.

"Yeah." He nodded with a smile on his lips, too. It was nothing special, but it was incredibly important to you, just because it had come from him. He placed the cluster of dandelions he had picked for you in your hand, enthusiastic about his work.

"Thank you, Sammy." You giggled, bringing them closer to your face to get a closer look.

"You're welcome." He beamed. "They're pretty, just like you." The childhood innocence was astounding; just two babies speaking from their heart, thrilled by each others company and hoping that your parents would never make you go home. You sat on the ground, crossing your legs and placing the flowers beside you. He wasted no time, sitting down with you, always wanting to do the same thing that you were doing. "We're gonna be best friends forever, you know."

"I hope so." You agreed, amused easily by picking strands of grass from the ground.

"And when we grow up, we'll get married, just like my parents, 'cause that's what best friends do." He continued, falling back on the ground and looking up to the sky. You laid down next to him, gazing longingly at the clouds. At that age, everything seemed so much more wondrous, so much more beautiful. Colours were brighter, and the world was not yet tainted by the darkness of adulthood. Happiness was the most you knew, diminished only occasionally with sadness that stemmed from a broken toy or a scraped knee. The biggest struggle back then was when your mother made something you disliked for dinner and that bedtime was at eight. It was so much simpler, so much better. The kids in your class were not old enough to be mean, and even if they were, it never mattered because Sam was always by your side.