a man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river but then he's still left with the river. A man takes his sadness and throws it away but then he's still left with his hands.
{❦} Then he’s agreeing with her, the joint is pulled from his lips as she places it between her own and sucks at it, dancing around gleefully. It had started as a fleeting thought, an idea that the two of them would be able to escape this hell they had been living. They were good people at heart, this freedom, just within their reach, was something they deserved.
Autumn stops, her drunken movements ceased as she takes him in, dropping the joint in the ashtray and hopping across the room. In a fluid movement, bending to press her forehead against his, grinning wildly. It’s only for a moment though, she’s too ecstatic to stand still for long, picking up the discarded joint and inhaling, tilting her head back and blowing smoke towards the ceiling.
She watches the smoke curl and disappear, her cocked backwards until it was gone, only then does her emerald gaze turn back to her friend. They could go anywhere, anywhere they wanted and no one could stop them. No one but them, two broken souls, patched together with liquor and smoke.
”When should we leave?”
And just like that she’s perched next to him on the couch, eyes eager and glazed. The little roach of a joint has been rubbed out in the ashtray, both her hands are gripping his thigh leaning towards him and wriggling in excitement. It was really happening, they were going to get out and run.
She could steal money from her father, he wouldn’t even notice to be completely honest. So fucking rich and still a goddamn asshole. It was true that money couldn’t buy happiness, but it should be able to buy an even temperament.
”Let’s go soon, we can pack, get some money and one of my dad’s cars, he won’t even notice. We could be ready by the weekend.”
What if Sam was just agreeing because he was far from sober? Tomorrow with a clear mind he would say no, and they’d both live like this until they died. There was no way she could leave without him. He had to go with her.
sam is full of hope in a way he hasn’t been since his b r o t h e r was shackled in his place. his chest bursts with excitement, and maybe it’s just the marijuana smoldering in his mind, but he finally feels like he can be someone.
autumn’s excitement is contagious and he sinks bonelessly into the couch, his glazed eyes following her every move. sam finds himself laughing, full chuckles bubbling up from somewhere deep and hidden, as she twirls and laughs and sighs. the joint sits extinguishing on the coffee table, but rather than death in its ashes, sam sees the promise of new life.
he finds himself face to face with bright emerald eyes, causing his heart to stutter-stop one–two-three because he knows someone with eyes like gems and lips perfect as a b o w but the memory is short lived and he frees himself from its clutches as if he’s shaking away the last vestiges of captivity.
❝ saturday. ——— friday! hell, we could be gone tonight if we wanted to. ❞
sam knows john won’t be happy about his departure, but it’s been a l o n g time since john gave a rat’s ass about anything other than w h i s k e y and memories. he thinks he loves sam, thought he loved sam, but all sam can see is a lifetime of wrongs.
the impala will stay. he can’t — sam can’t even look at it now without picturing dean, and he wants to run away from his troubles, not drag them along behind him as he goes. but he has enough to get by. he’s been saving his money, biding his time. it’s stashed under his mattress, d e e p enough in that dad wouldn’t feel it when he slides his hand under the frame. it was for college ( stanford, he’s always dreamed of stanford, though he never wanted to admit it ) but this cause is just. he’ll buy a lifetime of freedom instead of four years, and he’ll never have to look back.
