“Uh...I’m gonna shower, ‘cause I smell like…” I trail off and motion to the remnants of our fire. “Do you need food or anything?” I walk backwards towards my room to fetch fresh clothes, keeping my gaze on his lack of any response whatsoever. Guess that’s a no.

I rip through the drawers of my dresser, not even sure if I’m grabbing appropriate clothing while slight panic takes effect. Is he on something?

Sam’s made it to the hallway by the time I’m stumbling along towards the bathroom, and my pulse moves to my stomach when he follows me inside the tiny space.

“Oh! Do you want to go first?” I pull back the shower curtain and hold my breath. 

Sam leans against the door after closing it with his eyes narrowed on his worn out sneakers. What...what the hell is going on?!

“Hey.” I reach for his chin to make him look at me, but he flinches away so hard, he slams his head against the door. His eyes are full-on gray when they meet mine, with no trace of brown whatsoever in their depths, and I think maybe this is another fucking nightmare.

“I’m sorry!” I jump backwards with my hands raised by my shoulders. “I’ll just shower, then.” 

I need to wake the fuck up. I can’t even count my heartbeats as they threaten to tear through the skin on my chest. Is he even human right now? I strip behind the curtain and start the water, kicking my toes in and out to test the temperature. It takes a minute or so to get warm enough for my whole body.

I can sense Sam moving around a little as I wash myself and accept the fact that I’m probably awake. The sink runs for a few moments. The towel rack creaks. Sink goes on again. Is he okay? I try to breathe deeply, but I can’t seem to get enough air into my lungs.

When I hear him inhale sharply, I poke my head outside the curtain. He’s got one hand braced against the counter and his head is bent over as he kicks off his shoes. I watch him reaching for my sweatpants around his hips, and instantly slip my way back into the shower and against the cold tiled wall. What in the world is he doing?

I can hear him breathing now. Heavily. Unevenly. Is he coming...in here? Before I can fully wrap my mind around that possibility, his hand appears on the back wall behind the curtain. My throat instantly tightens at the sight of fresh blood on his fingers.

“Sam.” I try to keep my voice calm, but it’s like I’m pushing sound through a fucking cocktail straw. “Are you hurt?” 

He clenches into a fist and I pull back the curtain. He’s leaning on the wall in just boxers and the black shirt, his face turned away from me at an odd angle. He starts to slide, so I hook my arms in his pits and guide him down to the edge of the tub. He flinches and squeezes his eyes shut, almost knocking me over in the process. My heart sinks when I notice the fabric on his chest is wet, and it’s not from the shower spray. He's...really hurt.

“Can I take off your shirt?” I ask, slowly kneeling behind him so he can lean into me.

He growls softly while he moves his hands away from his body, and I try to stop my fingers from trembling as I grip the hem to lift it over his head. The sounds he’s making get louder the higher he moves his arms, so I fling it off him and onto the floor.

Sam immediately collapses into me, tumbling both of us fully into the tub. I position him so his back is against my chest with my legs on either side of his hips, bracing all his weight on me so he can relax. With a little coaxing of my fingers in his hair, his head rests on my shoulder.

“Yahh!” He exclaims as the water hits the front of his body, and I pull him even closer, dropping my chin over his shoulder. What the hell happened to him? 

When I see the marks, I almost vomit up the chicken I ate. Long gashes cut across the skin on his chest and sides, gushing crimson pools in the basin that surrounds us. They’re deep enough to reveal bone. To eventually kill him. To definitely kill him if he wasn't...if we weren’t...I force myself to swallow and wrap my arms around his neck, wishing with everything I have that I can heal him again. This has to be a nightmare.

He turns his head against me with a peaceful sigh, and I tear my eyes away from his wounds to discover his own blinking up at me. Brown.

When I spot the narrow trails of blood coming from between his lips, I lose control of myself. The fear grips my fucking throat in its grasp as my tears soak his cheek.  

“I’m okay,” Sam croaks, weaving his fingers through my hair. “Thank you.”

I bury my face in the skin between his neck and shoulder, the mere sound of his hoarse voice sending a new wave of emotion crashing over me.

“I’m really okay,” he whispers, and I listen as his breathing evens out in rhythm with the falling water. How is this even possible? I try to calm down, but I can’t, and I soon feel him shifting around between my legs.

“I’m crushing you,” he mumbles, his words tickling the skin by my ear. “Will…” His voice fades off and I feel him moving out of my hold. “Come on.” He grunts suddenly, grabbing my hand and pulling me right up against him.

“Ah-!” I teeter on my feet, blinking down at his chest to find it covered in thin scratches. It really worked…? My fingers trace over the remnants of the marks, gently brushing them out of existence, and when I glance back to check his mouth, he’s tilting upwards and rinsing it clean of blood. He’s...he’s okay.

My entire body begins to melt into a pool of relief, and I’m just about to fully relax into the shower steam when he cups my face in his hands and I remember I’m naked.