sam hales had most graciously lent you his jacket.

was this monumental in the grand scheme of the world? obviously not. were you obnoxiously pleased with yourself? yes, yes you were.

you, being the best friend of one orpheus ellerby, often attended the lampfield n' co band rehearsals–yes, marcus lampfield had a fit of vanity and christened the band after himself. what with sharing bottles of apple juice with julia, and fending marcus off orpheus every ten minutes, you fit right in.

it was a basement filled with ex teenage misfits, however they were your misfits. and they had week. unfortunately for you, sam was far out of your league.

in temperament, he was markedly more composed than the other lads in the band, his low hums a balm to the spirit after enduring marcus’s butchered brainrot rendition of femininomenon for an interminable half-hour. he was far cooler than the others could dream of being; or perhaps you were just biased.

but yes, the crisis at hand. the jacket.

"it's no big deal, i swear to god." sam remarked with an easy tilt of his lips, his expression an artful blend of exasperation and amusement as you awkwardly extended the garment toward him, your intent to return it plainly evident. you, intelligently, had forgotten your jacket in your dorm, and hence were freezing your arse off in the empty lecture hall that had become the haven for their rehearsals.

sam was somewhat taller than you were, which was not a feat considering that had a couple of inches on most people in your year.

without the token brown leather jacket he always had tugged haphazardly over his caramel mocha toned shoulders, you had an unobscured view of the toned lines of his arms, down to the embroidery thread bracelets that esmarie had woven for the whole band.

"trust me, i've had enough winters here to develop some form of tolerance. i'm like a penguin." the latter quip was in jest, but with sam, you could never actually tell. "it looks better on you, anyways."