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Drunk Admissions

Prompt: Yes
Request: No
Prompt number: 138 “I love you.” “Tell me that when you’re sober.”
Summery: Sam stumbles into his friend Y/N's room after a party that the trap boys threw. Wich isn't strange. What is strange, though? He's pretty much black out drunk and babbling about being in love with her.
Pairings: Sam Golbach x female reader

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In the quiet aftermath of the boisterous party the trap boys had thrown, the air was thick with a cocktail of relief and tired satisfaction. Y/N had just begun to unwind, the echoes of laughter and music still bouncing off the walls of her room, when a gentle but persistent knocking interrupted her solitude.

“Y/N?” The voice was slurred, almost unrecognizable, save for the familiar warmth that she couldn’t mistake. It was Sam.

With a resigned sigh, she padded across the room and opened the door, only to have Sam weave past the threshold with the grace of a newborn fawn. His disheveled appearance was a sharp contrast to the impeccably stylish figure he cut just a few hours ago.

“You should sleep it off, Sam,” she said, more out of concern than annoyance as she steadied him against a wall plastered with posters of bands they both adored.

The room swam into focus for a moment, and Sam gazed at Y/N with an intensity that seemed too coherent for his inebriated state. “I love you,” he declared with a desperate earnestness that grabbed at her heartstrings.

Y/N’s pulse quickened, and a myriad of emotions collided within her. The secret she had carefully harbored - her reciprocal love - threatened to spill over at his confession.

“Tell me that when you’re sober,” she retorted quickly, a sad smile playing on her lips. It was her armor, trying to protect her from what she feared was just a drunken revelation devoid of real sentiment.

Sam’s face fell for a moment, his eyes searching hers for something, but whatever it was seemed lost in the fog of alcohol. Dozing off on her bed, his words were a mere mumble now.

The night crept on, and Y/N sat by Sam’s side, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. She contemplated the intricate dance of their friendship, the careful steps they took around the unspoken, the unsaid. They were echoes of conversations interrupted, of glances held too long, of laughter shared in a silence filled with meaning.

'Drunk words are sober thoughts,' a voice in her head whispered, but Y/N shushed it. She needed to hear it in the light of day, when the world was real and not draped in the haze of a party’s aftermath.

As dawn broke, Sam stirred, his memories a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing. He looked at her, his eyes clearer in the morning light, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.

“Did I... say anything last night?” he asked tentatively, a hint of vulnerability in his voice that Y/N had never heard before.

Her heart raced as she wrestled with her choices. "You talked in your sleep,” she said, leaving out the truth of his nighttime declaration. “But... nothing much. Just babbling.”

Sam nodded, the concern in his eyes slowly fading as he accepted her words. But then he paused, and in that pause, Y/N saw a flicker of something honest and raw.

“Because, sober or not,” he said with a steadiness that hadn’t been there the night before, “I meant what I said. I love you.”

The world paused, and in that beautiful silence, Y/N saw not only the vulnerability in Sam but also the strength of his confession.

“Tell me that again,” she whispered, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes.

“I love you,” he said, clear and sober, “and I’ll tell you every day until you believe me.”

And in that moment, the unspoken was finally heard, the unsaid was expressed, and the possibility of them danced into reality, with the breaking day as their witness.