The sun was almost rising as you sat on the floor of Sam's dorm, eating pizza on the floor after he called you during an episode. He'd calmed down after a bit, but now he was silently sitting beside you, leaning against his bed.

You nudged him with your shoulder as he picked at the plasticky cheese on the top of his pizza. "Penny for your thoughts?”

He let out a short laugh, shaking out his curls. “They definitely aren't worth that much. My thoughts are… clearance rack. Damaged goods. Zero refunds.”

You flicked a piece of your crust at him, laughing as his quick reflexes let him catch it immediately. “Sam, c'mon. Everyone has a breakdown every now and then.”

"Not everyone is me," he responded, voice low. "You know. Fucked up. Super fucked up. Honestly, sometimes I think I’m too broken to be here with you. Like I’m a total disaster, red flag, big warning bells. And you... um, you're... steady."

“I don’t need you to be ‘steady,’ Sam," you responded softly. "How could anyone expect that after what you've been through? No, I just need you to be yourself. That's the way I like you. You, not someone else."

His face flushes slightly, and he looks down, clearly caught off guard. “Thanks,” he mutters, then glances back up at you. “So you're my personal therapist?”

You laughed, leaning against his shoulder. “Happy to be your sidekick.”

He relaxed as you rested against him, one of his big hands cupping the side of your head. “Please. You're 100% the main event in this relationship."