The night was surprisingly warm for September as you lay on the rooftop of the drive-in, the evening sky scattered with stars brighter than you could see around the university. You’d discovered the door onto the roof while searching for a change of clothes and dragged Sam up with you, hoping the beautiful sky might ease the tension he seemed to carry with him.

It seemed to work. As you enjoyed the night, Sam was practically buzzing with awe as he lay next to you. His blue eyes observed the stars like they were the most incredible things he'd ever seen. One of his hands reached up before falling back to his side. He glanced your way, catching your gaze just for a moment, before quickly looking away, his cheeks tinted pink.

“I’ve never… really had the chance to look at the stars like this before,” he mumbled, voice barely breaking the silence. "I mean, in real life."

You reached blindly across to link your fingers with his, steadying the trembling in his hand. He squeezed your fingers, and it was just the two of you, worlds away from everything else. In the stillness, you could sense how meaningful this was to him — a moment of peace, of discovery, shared with you.

“I’m really glad I'm here with you,” you said, feeling a thrill of affection in your stomach as his face lights up with a warm smile.

"...Me too." He's still achingly quiet, his grip as gentle as possible, like he's afraid of hurting you. Like he thinks if he is too rough or too loud he might shatter the delicate moment. And that's the last thing he wants.