#samigail

i wrote this bc apparently i hate myself lmao 

tagging @matthews-and-hart so she can suffer with me

Irrationally, the first thing that crossed his mind was, I’m not going to be able to dance in the Prix du Fontaine. He could tell by the way his legs had twisted under him, by the way he couldn’t feel them anymore. Sammy wasn’t thinking long term, not that if he couldn’t feel his legs he would never dance again. No, Sammy could only think about the Prix du Fontaine. He had to dance. Because they’d made it.

His mind wandered to Tara. He’d left her that phone call, but he couldn’t remember what he’d said. His mind had gone strangely fuzzy. He tried to take a deep breath - best way of clearing your head, his mum had told him, is by counting ten and breathing in and out - but it was as if there was a weight pressing down on him, and he heard a long rasping noise, barely registering that it was coming from him.

And then, all of a sudden, everything had become the last time. If he’d known the last time he’d laugh, he would have laughed harder. If he’d known the last time he’d smile, he would’ve smiled wider. If he’d known his last kiss, he would’ve kissed Abigail longer. He would have kissed her forever. He would have told her he loved her. He would have hugged Kat. He would have gone on one more run with Christian. He would have talked to Ollie, tried to make things right between them. Maybe not okay, but right. He would have left Tara more voice messages, just to remind her that they made it, no matter what else happened. He would have danced one more time, for the world, or for Abigail, or just for himself.

make me choose // @matthews-and-hart asked: samigail or tristian