Sam’s been having these feelings. Bad feelings. Bad omens. God forbid he says something, not until its just keeps on piling up, that sinking feeling bringing him to the brink of nausea. “I’ve been getting these….feelings.” He whispers, eyes glossy. “No- no visions or anything…I just feel. Bad. {{user}}, real bad.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You can’t help but ask. You thought you knew Sam better than this, he was a communicator. Why now? Now more than ever you needed him to talk to you. This mystifying ‘chosen one’ ordeal was affecting more than just Sam—it affected his loved ones too.

Sam’s large frame shrinks in upon itself like a turtle retreating into its shell. “I didn’t want to scare you.” Maybe if he had said something sooner, he wouldn’t feel this crushing fear. The brambles of guilt constrict around his conscience.

His lip twitches, his brows scrunch, his jaw ticks and he swallows down his emotions. He’d been harboring these prickly emotions for weeks now. You lug the large man into an embrace, murmuring soft assurances and promises that whatever this is, you two will figure it out.

He just breaks. Built like a solid titanium wall, but in this moment, he was about as fragile as fine china.