Hey! Originally I hadn't a clue of what to write next so I assumed that it would be a simple one-shot. After many lovely reviewers telling me to continue and some other various inspiration I decided to continue on. I hope you all enjoy this! The rating went up because of *cough* language, but you will understand why when you read on. AN: This takes place a week after the first chapter, but Four has been avoiding Sam for two weeks. Sorry about any spelling, grammar, etc. mistakes! Hope you like and please review!

Four is utterly and hopelessly in love with Sam Goode. Which translates to he is so fucked. And how it got to this is out of his knowledge. It didn't happen overnight. He didn't just one morning wake up and think 'hey, I'm in love with my best friend who doesn't know and isn't gay'. Yeah, it definitely didn't happen like that. No, it was like some poison running through his veins and slowly mixing with his blood and intoxicating him until he had no control over reality or his body. It crept up on him and maybe his realization did happen overnight, but it was there before because he just knew.

He takes a moment to realize how fucked up this whole situation is. He was in love with Sarah Hart. She is beautiful and sweet and smart and every normal guy's dream. But Four isn't normal and he never will be. He doesn't want Sarah Hart anymore and he tries to think of a moment when he actually had. He tries to think of a moment when he actually loved her. He can't because he never felt what he feels for Sam. He thought he loved her, but he never did. He didn't know what love was before this-before Sam.

He realizes that he probably sounds sappy as hell, but love effects people differently as well as aliens.

Sam was like a question when he first met him. He was so full of locks and bolts and twist and turns and there was so much hurt in him that it made him ache. Sam was closed-off, but there was something alluring about him that was daring him to try and solve the puzzle that is Sam Goode. He tried to understand why Sam was so closed-off and sad and all he wanted to do was see him smile again. Sam as it turns out had been through so much-too much-to even realize without knowing him. It made sense though why he was a closed-book and why he didn't seem to smile ever.

It was a couple of weeks after they had left that he realized, really realized how much Sam affects him.

He sits in a room that he can call his own for maybe a day or two before they leave and ungrudgingly does nothing. He can't walk out of the room without Sam asking 'What the hell is going on with you?' Sam seems to notice the avoiding. He can't walk around the apartment-trying to avoid Sam of course-without bumping into him and feeling Sam's hand curl around him arm to keep them both steady and not feel that searing touch ghost over his skin later. He can't look at Sam without staring at him. He can't talk to Sam without blurting something out he knows he will regret and won't make sense in that current topic. So instead he lays splayed on the bed staring at the celling and flashing his illuminating hand at it. He closes his fingers around his palm and the light disappears before he uncurls his fingers and the light shines bright again. Before-hours and hours before-it was entertaining and now it just seems like something he has to do in order to keep his sanity.

He is so frustrated right now it's unbelievable. It's not the fact that he can't leave the room without being bombarded by an anger Sam-because really who doesn't talk to someone for two weeks and copes up in a room like a housecat. It isn't the fact that he can't find anything entertaining to do while he avoids Sam. It isn't the fact that when he thinks of Sarah he doesn't think of her as the love of his life anymore. It isn't the fact that he loves Sam Goode who is a guy and isn't gay. And it definitely isn't the fact that Sam seems to lurk in the corners of his mind and pound on the door-wait that's actually happening. No, it definitely isn't any of those things.

He hears the pounding again and turns his head lazily towards the door. At first it had bothered him with annoyance, but now he felt that he was actually slightly used to it. That is was normal to hear Sam-because he knows it isn't Six-pound on the door and yelling at him.

"What the fuck, Four? Open the door!" Sam yells over the pounding.

He started locking whatever door was his at that current time after he realized that Sam would be cornering him in every space and asking him what was wrong.

He blinks lazily at the door before turning back to his previous activities. He flashes his hand open and the ceiling glazes with light.

"I'm not fucking kidding! Open the door or I'll…or I'll," He wants to ask what Sam will do. Break down the door? Right, that's going to happen," I'll get Six to break down the door! She'll do it too! She's not exactly happy with the way your acting, either!" He yells as he knocks his fists against the door so hard that it shakes, slightly.

He doesn't like it when Sam is angry and part of him wants to rip open that door and press him up against the nearest flat surface and kiss…..Whoa there, Four. He did not just think that.

"Seriously, Four! What the hell is going on?" He yells and now he isn't even pounding on the door. He just sounds angry, frustrated, and…..hurt. Four never likes to see or hear Sam hurting so the fact that he is the one inflicting in makes him stop flashing his Lumen at the ceiling and look at the door as if he could actually see Sam.

"Why are you avoiding me?" He sounds so small and his voice sounds slightly lower than usual.

That question right there, if answered could reveal everything Four tries hide. Everything Sam can't know.

He can hear the sound of something hitting the wall beside the door and then something's-someone's- sliding down the wall.

"I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?" Then he hears a choked loud laugh. "I sounded like a girl right there. But seriously, "His voice couldn't sound more serious, "what's going on? Why are you avoiding me?" He asks softly.

There is a pause in which silence is all that can be heard. It lulls between them with unspoken words and emotions. Then he hears a hard thud that sounds like a fist hitting the wall.

"Dammit, Four. Answer me!" He yells and a short pause filters through. "Wait, is this about Sarah?" He asks and there something in his voice that's more than curiosity, but he can't pin it because he's thinking about how wrong Sam is with that question.

This has nothing to do with Sarah! Except for the fact that he doesn't love her, but he told her that over the phone several hours ago and felt like an ass afterward, but she deserved to know, and she sounded….understanding and almost okay with it. Like she knew it was going to happen, which was a surprising to him because no one should sound so alright with it, like she knew something he didn't.

For some reason that question triggered the walls that he had built up and now they were crumbling down and he felt angry, rage, frustrated, and tired for hiding what he felt for so long, okay it had only been weeks, but still.

In a movement that is nothing less than panther-like he turns his body toward the door and slides off the bed feet first. He can feel the anger and all the unsaid things boil in his vision and his hands are burning and he can't control them which is strange considering he thought he had that under control about three weeks ago.

He's over to the door in less than a second. He can't think because everything unsaid, said, and his emotions are clouding in his mind and he is so frustrated. He grabs the door handle and rips the door open-without unlocking it. The lock tears slightly at the wall and the door is thrown open.

He sees Sam leaning against the wall opposite of him looking curious, the question still hanging in the air. There's a soft hurt in his expression. Four sees how he probably looks right now: tousled hair, gritted teeth, jaw set, hands clutching at the door, burning the wood, lips pressed firmly together, eyes glowering a dangerous blue. In all honesty he can't bring himself to care.

He expects Sam to say something, repeat the question, and he is secretly daring him to. When Sam only raises an eyebrow at him and says nothing, he grabs Sam's arm and roughly yanks him into the room before slamming the door shut.

Sam stumbles clumsily into the room after being practically thrown into it. He catches himself by putting a hand on the wall before removing it and looking at Four who is, yep he is glowering at him. That's just great.

"You finally let me in. Don't I feel special?" He knows he shouldn't be antagonizing Four, not when he's like this, but he can't help it.

Four glowers harder at him and walks toward him. Sam always feels scared and shivers when he walks like that, which he always does, but there's something panther-like about it.

"So I'm guessing this is about Sarah?" There's something in his voice, something that isn't curiosity or sacredness.

Suddenly, he is pinned to the wall by burning hands and an equally burning stare. The hands on his wrists are illuminating a burning warmth and it stings a bit, but Four's eyes are really what keeps him pinned to the wall. They are flaring an intimidating blue.

"So it is about Sarah?" Sam asks and feels Four's fingers curl harshly around his wrist. He wants to say that that hurts because he's practically burning his wrist off, but he can't because of Four staring at him.

"No," Four bites out," This has nothing to do with Sarah Hart, except the fact that I broke up with her a few hours ago and felt like a complete ass afterward, but she sounded…understanding, which I don't understand at all. Do you know why I broke up with her?" Four asks and he sounds angry, frustrated, and slightly bitter.

Sam shifts a bit and swallows.

"No." It meant to come out strong, but it sounded small.

Their eyes are still locked together.

"I broke up with Sarah because I realized that I don't love her anymore. I can't think of a time when I actually did. She sounded almost okay with it, like she wasn't telling me something. She sounded like she expected it, but was vaguely happy about it. The other reason I broke up with Sarah is because she isn't you. I don't love her, I love you. I was trying to avoid you, but you just wouldn't leave it alone. You kept asking me 'what's the hell is wrong, Four?' and I couldn't answer that without you knowing how I feel about you. I can't even walk out of my fucking room without bumping into you and trying not to act like you don't affect me more than anyone ever has. So there is that what you wanted to hear? That I love you and I can't have you because you don't feel the same way about me?" Four finishes and he looks mentally weary, but he's still staring at Sam that way.

Sam opens he mouth and then closes it several times before he just stares at Four with wide brown eyes because he had not expected that.

"I didn't think so." Four says with a smirk. He feels oddly accomplished and sad, simultaneously.

He releases Sam's wrists and later Sam would discover that his wrists have red fingerprints encircling them. He stares at Sam for one short longing moment before he turns around.

"Wait." Sam says and for once in this whole mess his voice sounded strong and sure.

Four takes several deep breaths, clenching and unclenching his fists before he turns around. He expected to be yelled at, maybe even punched in the face, but what he did not expect was Sam's hand curling in the fabric of the collar of his shirt and tugging him forward. Sam's hand is still curled in the fabric and he's pressed against the wall by Four's weight. He looks in those blue eyes, studying him as if trying to make sure what he said was concrete.

Four can feel Sam's breath against his lips, ghosting over, and he has to suppress a shiver.

"Sam, what are you doing?" He asks trying to get control over this very bad situation.

Sam isn't gay. Sam doesn't love you. You can't have him. Four keeps repeating in his head.

He tries to pull away, but Sam's hand only curls harder into the fabric and tugs harder on it. They both know that Four could break the contact instantly, but for some insane reason he feels as if he can't, as if he really has no control over this situation.

"Were you serious about what you said?" Sam is smiling at him. He shouldn't be smiling.

Anger boils in his blood and he clenches his fists, which are by his side.

"What do you think?" He asks.

Sam grins at him and tugs Four even closer to him, which would seem impossible, but obviously not.

"I think Six was right." He breathes out against his lips.

Four has only a short moment to think about how much he will injure Six before Sam tugs harder on the collar his shirt and kisses him. Warmth shoots in every vein and boils low in his stomach. His hands find their way to Sam's waist and he presses him harder into the wall. Sam angles his head to one direction while Four angles to the opposite. Sam tugs at his bottom lip and he groans softly into his mouth.

He'll thank Six later.