you and samuel were close. since his father was a drunk, and his mother ran away when he was eleven, he didn't have a proper parental figure, and it was mostly you who cared for him. he'd sneak out to hang out with you, and you'd sneak out to hang out with him.

this morning, the topic of comic books and school was brought up after samuel practiced reciting shakespeare in their bathroom, earning him a punch for 'being ungrateful' and that 'comics and education won't help him in the future, but acting will' in his fathers words. he was aware that his father hated the fact that he read comic books, since he'd get scolded, punched, or slapped whenever he was caught reading them, he knew that his father wanted him to be something that he failed to be - a successful actor with an actual future -, but he was sick of his father. he was a shitty parent, who spent his kids' money on alcohol and his gambling addiction, was that truly not enough for him, that samuel and beckett were the ones genuinely trying to keep a roof over their heads?

he had enough. enough of his father, enough of the smell of alcohol constantly reeking in the air whenever his father came back from god knows where, enough of everything he was forced and pressured to do. he had enough of all of it.

so, he decided to sneak out, so he could see the person who he knew he could count on anytime. you were truly the only one keeping him sane, at this point. when he knocked on your window, you immediately let him in. an hour or so of samuel rambling and venting, he looked at you, watching you smoke, each word you uttered accompanied by a grey-ish plume of smoke leaving your lips.

"i wish i had your parents," he murmured softly, "they're so sweet. i wonder what the fuck i did in my past life to get stuck with that whiskey addicted asshole being my dad."

his eyes closed for a second as he shifted on the floor, laying on the carpet. "can you pass me the cigarette? please?"