A/N: A well deserved Christmas gift to wonderful Mogitz! My first ever 'After' reviewer and someone I have come to know as a friend! Merry Christmas! Xx

I hope this makes you smile and I do Jam and Josh some justice!

The sun and moon never touch. One belongs in the night, shrouded by darkness. The other explodes with brightness that is so frickin hard to shield from. Sam is the sun.

I decided that fact in sixth grade, when I first met her. She wore one of those irritatingly beautiful smiles. One that beamed light into everyone's hearts. I'd sat there like one of those kids having a tantrum, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, trying to protect mine.

She didn't stop trying though. She embedded herself into every aspect of my life. Need to go to English class? She was there. Need to report to the Principal? She was there. Need to take a piss? She was there.

Well, maybe not there there. But it felt like she was. Looming over me, lingering behind every corner. Like sunlight shimmering behind rain clouds.

It was uncomfortable.

She presses a damp cloth to the cut on my forehead. I hiss, the pain sharp. Uncomfortable.

But not as uncomfortable as when I slunk home, my hoodie pulled over my head, to find her sitting there, pleasantly, in my living room.

I was sixteen.

"Hi Josh," Sam chimed pleasantly when I stumbled upon her, my eyes widening in horror and, instantly, my body swivelled around to walk right back out the door again.

"Oh, you know each other?" My mom smiled sweetly, passing glances between the two of us. I clenched my fist around the strap of my school backpack, gritted my teeth and pretended I knew how to smile.

"Unfortunately," I had grumbled under my breath, before ducking my face underneath my hoodie, sending an unpleasant, unnatural grin in my mother's direction and attempted to slip out the door. I refused to turn around to meet Sam's gaze again. It had an irritating effect on me. Like I couldn't move under it. Like when I used to burn ants with a microscope in the back yard.

She was the sun, her eyes were the microscope and I was the ant.

That kind of 'couldn't move'.

"What was that you said, Josh?" Sam charmingly tweeted. But it felt mocking. Intelligent. Knowing. Like she'd heard everything I'd said – and everything that lay underneath it.

I shrugged one shoulder uncomfortably, twitching an eye, my back tense before I gritted my teeth and finally clutched onto the courage to escape that room.

But not before Mom called out, "Oh! Samantha says she's staying for dinner!"

I could feel my grumble vibrating in my throat.

I imagine Sam looked quite proud.

"Don't move," she murmurs, her eyes peering at my wound. Her gaze crawls along my skin. Like the burning heat of sun thawing ice. I jerk back. I'm too close.

She glares at me, warning me with her eyes. And she repeats, her voice flighty; "Don't. Move."

And it didn't stop there.

She was everywhere. Loitering around with my sisters of all people. Oh, what a coincidence, Sam.

Chris kept saying I was just paranoid. Sam was Hannah's friend. It was perfectly normal for Sam to come round to our house on a disturbingly regular basis. It was perfectly normal for her to spend every waking hour lurking around me. Normal, normal, normal.

Well, damn, Chris. I'm not normal.

He didn't see it from my perspective. He couldn't see the way her face was in every little thing. How she smelled of everything. The school halls. My frickin living room. Even the dust particles at the bottom of my vacuum cleaner. She was the sun and I was the moon and we were never meant to be near each other. Yet I could never escape her. It was infuriating and chilling and I hated it. It was like she was always clinging onto my back, digging her claws into my skin. Like one of those creepy, horror movie alien things.

Or was that from Doctor Who?

"Who made you the doctor?" My voice gurgles in a scoff, like I'm choking on blood.

Sam only shakes her head in an exasperated sigh and ignore me. She peels the cloth from my forehead and it feels like it's torn skin with it. I grit my teeth. It stings.

"Don't complain," she replies calmly, her eyes like warm stars heating my skin. It makes me shiver. "I'm the best you've got."

The prank was supposed to be payback. It was meant to make her feel exactly how I did. Always being watched, always having something lingering behind her, chasing after her. I wanted her to know what it was like to have me always there. To feel like she couldn't escape me.

Just like how I couldn't escape her.

Just like how I didn't want to.

I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest, muscles tight and tense. Sam clicks her tongue like she's mocking me. But when I glance up, afraid to face her eyes again, she's smiling. The smallest of smiles. They shine the brightest.

"What?" I pout, practically sticking out my bottom lip. I feel like a child. The cold, wet floor is like another limb. It belongs to my body. It's like I'm attached to it. I fit it perfectly. It fits my soul.

It didn't work. The prank didn't work. Suddenly, everything was spinning out of control. Like the twisting mess inside of my brain. I betrayed my closest friends just for the short-lived thrill of revenge. Sam looked at me differently. Like I'd hurt her.

It was her! It was her fault! She was always there! She was always trying. I didn't want her to try.

I wanted to keep myself hidden. I didn't want her light to capture the hidden depths of my inky heart.

That's the problem with the moon. It's dark and dusty and only one half is ever seen. It hides the other half, hidden from the world, hidden from the light. It isn't designed to ever meet the sun. They don't belong together.

It's unnatural.

If she saw the real me, she'd push me away.

And I didn't want that to happen. If anyone was doing the pushing, it was going to be me.

"You're thinking," Sam hums, her breathing settling as she soothes the cut on my forehead. It hurts. I wince, my left shoulder jerking. She drops her eyes to glare at me. Don't move, they say. Fine, Sam. If that's what you want, I'll stop breathing.

"So?" I sink my neck into my shoulders, screwing my face up.

Sam smiles. She drops her hand from my forehead, the blood soaked cloth laying on the floor. It feels tense. Like she's going to say something important.

I'm afraid it's going to be, "I hate you, Josh."

I don't want her to hate me.

I'm already doing that enough for myself.

Finally, Sam lifts her eyes to mine and there's an odd glint of forgiveness in them. But maybe there never needed to be any forgiveness. Because, maybe, she was never really hurt.

"You're wrong," she smirks knowingly.

There's that look again. She knows everything. I suddenly feel hollowed out. Like she's taken a spoon and scraped out all the contents of my brain.

"What?" I croak out, shrivelling up.

She quirks a single eyebrow. A mischievousness flickers in her eyes.

And then she's leaning forward. And my breath hitches as she cups my cheeks with her hands. They're warm. Like the sun.

Then she caresses my lips with hers. They're warm too.

This isn't meant to happen. This is unnatural.

The sun and moon never touch. They can't. No matter how much I want them to.

She pulls back an inch, brushing her nose against mine. I can't breathe. I'm frozen, staring in shock at her. Yet, suddenly, my body starts to warm. She's thawing me.

A simple smile – one of those irritatingly beautiful ones – tugs at her lips; "Haven't you ever heard of a solar eclipse?"