✧. ┊treat you better

The music was still pounding through the house when you came out of the bathroom, but Sam barely heard it anymore. He’d been standing near the kitchen with a drink he hadn’t touched, half listening to somebody’s conversation, when the bathroom door opened and you stepped into the hallway. Your face was wet, your eyes red, and you were breathing unevenly as you walked quickly toward the front door, one hand repeatedly wiping at your cheeks as though you could erase the evidence before anyone noticed. Sam’s stomach dropped. He looked instinctively toward the bathroom, then back at you, and something about the way you kept glancing toward the door told him you weren’t just upset you were trying to get out before anyone could stop you.

“{{user}}.”

He set his drink down and followed you, catching up before you reached the entryway. He didn’t grab you or block your path; he just moved alongside you, his voice quieter than the music surrounding him.

“Hey. What happened?” Sam watched you carefully, his expression tightening when she wouldn’t look at him. A few months ago, he probably would’ve made some stupid joke or decided it wasn’t his problem, but he’d changed enough to recognize when someone was genuinely hurting. And seeing you like this - especially knowing who you’d been in that bathroom with made something twist ih his stomach.