A Sory Fanfic. I sadly do not own Glee or any of these characters. More Than Life was written by Whitley (Songwriter: Lawrence Brian Greenwood), please support the official release.

More Than Life

A leaf, in the breeze

The smoky morning haze

The scene was silent. The air was as still as the murky lifeless water that wrapped around the old wooden dock. This early in the morning he didn't expect to see anyone walking about. He looked around and saw not a person or boat in sight or at least Sam didn't notice anything else, his thoughts began to cloud his thoughts, his judgement. The rest of the world was drowned out. He ignored the pain of the splintering wood piercing through his bare feet. The sun was just rising over the edge of the sea, casting a glow across the landscape, glaring into Sam's eyes. He refused to shield himself from the light. He stared into it, solemn and expressionless.

He stood on the edge of the decaying wood. As he sat his feet dipped into the body of green water below them. Lightly kicking the water in his absence of thought. He was cold, goosebumps began forming along his limbs, despite the warm air blowing from the west. Without warning, the tears fell. Silently. Just streaming down his cheeks leaving red trails behind as they dropped down, making wet spots on his jeans. It would be the last sunrise he'd see for a while...and he felt no warmth or inner joy when looking at it. Everything was gone. What happened?

He grew tired in the light of the sun. Then it was gone. In it's space was dim green luster. His shirt clung to his body and his jeans grew heavier and heavier pulling him down. Bubbles of air rushed past his body escaping to the surface. Sam didn't fight it; he waited. He waited beneath the water for his last breath of air to race away. The colder the water around him got, the happier Sam felt. Soon, it would all be over.

There was no tunnel awaiting him. No bright light. Sam saw nothing. Nothing but darkness. And he smiled as he welcomed it.

The sun, on her face

Sam was angry. She led him on, made him feel special. Then tossed him to the side when she had a chance at the big oaf she believed to be her white knight. She was the first person to make him feel a little less of an outcast, no matter what happened in the glee club. And now, seeing her walking down the hallway with Finn, without so much as a "Hey Sam" made him want to run off and curl into a ball.

But her smile. Quinn's smile was full of pure happiness. The light upon her flawless face and her dazzling smile still causing butterflies in Sam's gut. That face that he had never elicited before somehow lessened the blow. He knew she was happier. Knowing that Finn made her feel that way made him more angry with himself. What was it that Finn had that Sam didn't have himself? In Sam's opinion, Finn was nothing special, just shy of average. What was it about Finn that made Quinn choose him?

She cheated. Maybe that's what you have to do to win. Cheat the other opponents out.

He slammed his locker furiously. Sam lied to himself saying he was okay with it, and he would be. Someday. Not that day. Nor the next.

Quinn's smile eventually faded, Finn moving on to Rachel. The light still followed her, ever illuminating her figure as if forever graced by God's favor. But never once did she smile that brightly again.

And the touch of lovers hands.

Words wound the most when they mean nothing. And her words meant less than that, they left scars. When she defended him, called him her one and only, all a lie. She told him she had never felt that way before. She had. Their hands were intertwined. Santana reached her free hand over and brushed the stray strands of blonde hair from Brittany's face. She laughed at their conversation, playfully falling over.

"Hey Sam." Brittany greeted. Sam waved in response, returning his attention to the books in his locker. Santana looked away. At least she felt something, some tiny smidgen of guilt.

"Let's go Britt." Santana pulled her lover away. Brittany smile and waved goodbye. Both unaware to the glare Sam shot as their backs were turned.

"You'll find someone else." She told him when she broke the news. Then Karofsky came in. Sam knew it was too good to be true, there was no way that Santana would downgrade to Dave. It all made sense when he saw her with Brittany once he returned to McKinley "I'm not the same." That was the truth. Sam couldn't fight that she wasn't into him anymore, there was nothing he could do to change that.

"How's it hanging Lady Lips?" The Latina taunted in the hall. She smirked as she passed him. Sam turned in the empty hall.

"You'd like them better if they were, wouldn't you?" He spat. His mouth curved into a smile. He had sat on those words for months, letting his disdain ferment. "Lady lips..." He chuckled. Santana turned around as well. He expected to see her fierce with anger, but her expression was more shocked.

"Sam, that's actually offensive." The girl grinned as if waiting for Sam to laugh it off as a joke, but the maliciousness behind his smirk left her appalled.

"You're right," The blond shrugged. "Shouldn't it be fish lips? Does that suit you better Santana?" He didn't wait for an answer, walking away in the direction of his next class, not planning on being late again on his first week back. He felt relieved after releasing all of his pent up anger and knowing that Santana was left wounded by his words left him glowing in joy.

"What the fuck?" She called after him. This was a new Sam that she hadn't seen before. Different from the Sam who would allow her to mock him without so much as a frown at her hurtful jokes. This Sam was colder.

The pain that comes today,

Is here, then goes away.

He waited all morning in the auditorium, missing three class periods. Gone were the days in which Sam worried for his academic career. His grades were waning, even after retests and make-up assignments he was barely scraping by with Ds. His dyslexia was getting in the way of him actually graduating, but so was his pursuit of love. Still, he refused to go to class until he was sure Mercedes wasn't showing up. His body was glued to his chair as he stared into the ceiling lights.

Mercedes was the one who called him there. She wanted to talk to him. Eventually Mercedes would come by so she could take him back. He grew tired of waiting. Sam wondered whether or not she even planned on coming in the first place. He was getting stood up and he would wait for days and days for her like the fool he was.

"Sam?" The blondes head turned swiftly in the direction of the sound. Mercedes came in from the behind the curtains.

"Mercedes!" He shouted in elation. "What took you so long?" Sam ran to the steps of the stage eager for Mercedes to descend. She had nothing but her books in hand that she clutched close to her chest, a look of confusion on her face.

"You're still here?" She asked. Mercedes had really planned on coming but she didn't know what to say. Seeing that Sam had obviously waited some few hours for her put her off. Sam reached his arms out to hug her, but she pushed him away. She had told him the minute he came back about her situation. A disgusted look spread across her face that turned Sam's stomach. "What are you doing?"

"I was going to hug you." Slight pleading lingering in his voice. Mercedes shook her head.

"I knew it." She wouldn't look at him and she just kept shaking her head walking towards the auditorium doors. "Sam, it's not gonna work. I'm with Shane. Please just stop." Sam followed after and grabbed her arm. Mercedes yanked it back immediately, her books falling to the floor. "I'm happy."

"Cedes, please don't do this to me. I thought we had something great going." He fell to the ground at her knees to gather her things. "This Shane guy can't possibly make you feel the way I did." He was practically begging with her to take him back. She was all he had left. No other reason for him to still be here. He came back for her.

"You can't just come back out of the blue and expect for things to just go back to the way they were. Things change. People change, Sam. You should too." She was crying now but Sam wanted to punch the wall at her bullshit emotions. This hurt him more. He was the victim.

"Mercedes." She halted, then exited, the door closing with a loud bang.

Sam bit his lip to keep from screaming out in desperation. He wanted to hit something, hurt something. All of his emotions raging with each other. The hurt that passed through his chest resembling a heart attack. He felt weak and his breath was slowed. Tears slid down his face. It was heartbreak. He never wanted to feel this again.

And we are homeward bound

Sam built walls and restored himself, but not every part can be mended. The sparkle of joy that never left his eyes, the smile that he always wore, even the melodic tone in his voice that always brought an air of delight with him wherever he went, gone.

Sam saw her again. That time, he rejected her; not a relationship, but her friendship. Mercedes had finally cornered him in the choir room after Sam had been exceedingly gloomy. Sam ignored her and kept walking. The air turned cold as he glanced at her with indifferent eyes and looked away. People change, and Sam could change too.

The sun was rising over his suburban home. Sam always marveled in how the sun could make even the darkest day get better. The sun on his skin made him feel alive.

The Evans' moved back into their old home when Sam returned. Sam spent a lot of time on the roof of his house, above his room where he could climb out from his window. It's where he would escape everything else. To the right of the roof was a large oak tree that extended its branches over the home. Mr. Evans had planned to one day cut them down but never got around to it Sam was glad he never did, he liked the tree at the time. But not anymore.

Wedged in the side of the tree was a carving knife. Sculpted into the tree was Sam Quinn. Over Quinn's name was a few lines where Sam had tried to scratch the name out. Under it was Santana, again with scratches across it. Beneath that, Mercedes, also scratched away.

And I

I want this more than life.

Sam grabbed the knife in a haze of fury and slashed at the heart. Cutting lines until the bark fell off completely leaving no trace. He breathed heavily as he looked over the work he had done. He huffed and scratched at the tree with his fingers, pulling the bark off piece by piece. He took the knife as a final gesture and cut the tree more. Sam.

He took the carving knife in hand and stared at it. The daylight danced off the silver metal. Without thinking, almost trancelike, Sam brought the warm metal blade to his wrist. He slid it up to his forearm, softly at first but increasing in force as he went. He didn't grimace at the pain. It felt better. Better than the numbness of his life he had grown accustomed to. The blood dripped down onto the roof shillings. Small streams of blood shot of in different directions, down his tan skin.

The sky grew darker. A cloud passed over the sun, hiding it's rays. Sam glanced back over to the side of the tree where his name was once clear as day. It was gone, below it, imbedded into the wood was the deep cuts of the heart he'd carved before. Fuck.

To touch something real

Will help your wounds heal

"Sam, what's this?" The brunet asked from the bedroom. Sam came out of his bathroom and went pale. In the boys palm was a handgun. "Is this yers?" Sam ignored him and went back to brushing his teeth. "Sam?" The blond ignored him but couldn't stop his racing thoughts. Sam slammed his toothbrush down and stared into the mirror in front of him. "Sam!"

"What! What Rory! What the hell do you want from me!" He exploded.

"Why do ye have a gun in yer nightstand?"

"Why were you going through my shit?" Rory was taken back by his language, but wasn't stirring from his accusation.

"Ye told me to find yer tie, I found this instead. Why do ye have it?" Rory stuttered in his fear of Sam's growing anger. Sam grabbed for the gun but Rory pulled back. The blonde yanked it from his grip and pushed past the brunet. He threw the gun back into the nightstand drawer and slammed it back. He was going to go for the bedroom door but Rory was blocking his path. "Yer not going anywhere."

"I don't need you to play mommy for me. Get outta my way." Rory used all of his strength to hold onto the door and keep it from opening. Sam was trembling now.

"Sam please."

"It's for me!" He yelled. Sam pushed Rory aside and turned back toward his bedroom window. He flung himself out. The brunet sprinted after him in fear only to see his legs climbing up upon the snow covered roof.

Rory joined him after recovering himself. Sam's eyes were red, his tears long gone.

"Ye're planning on killing yerself?" Sam didn't answer. Rory took a seat next to him, trying his best to stay balanced. The boy didn't know how Sam got up pushed away some of the snow caked on top of the roof. "Care to talk about that?"

"I don't need to talk about it. Especially not to you." Sam sneered. Rory brought his knees to his chest.

"Is that why?" He asked pointing to the carvings on the oak tree he'd noticed on the way out. Some of the bark was missing but he was pretty sure he'd gotten the jist. "Ye're heartbroken? Sam that's no reason to kill yerself." Sam smirked, thinking to himself all of the things Rory just didn't understand.

"You don't know me. It's not like you could help. You're a child, some callow baby trying to latch onto the first person he thinks is 'cool'." Rory looked back at him.

"Calling me names won't get me to go away. I can try to help ye...I really like ye Sam." Rory knew he was taking a risk but he kept going, not letting the weird look Sam was giving him affect him. "I really like ye. I was excited when ye asked me to stay with ye because I thought that maybe ye felt the same way. I know ye don't know, but I don't think I could live with myself knowing ye killed yerself and I could have helped."

"Rory. Go away." Sam growled. Rory rested his hand on Sam's. His skin was colder than the snow around them but Rory clenched tightly. "Go. Away." Sam's voice cracked as he repeated himself.

Then he broke down. The tears poured out in endless streams. Sam grasped the sides of his head in pain. He couldn't control himself. The brunet pulled Sam's arms apart in an attempt to calm the boy. He noticed the cuts going up his arm, usually hidden by a jacket or coat. Rory wrapped his arms around him and laid Sam down in his lap letting the boy cry his eyes out, holding his cold body. Warming him with his own.

Months passed. Sam returned the gun. He also stopped cutting. Rory never once left his side, and that's how he liked it.

It was the end of May. Rory laid next to Sam on the blond's bed. They both stared up at the ceiling in silence avoiding the conversation they both wanted to have.

"I love you Rory." Sam finally said.

"I love ye too Sammy." Responded Rory. "This is it, isn't it. For us?"

"Yeah." Sam said solemnly. There was no way to keep faith alive. Rory was going back to Ireland and there was no coming back for another year.

"Promise ye won't forget me."

"I want to...but it's gonna happen sometime."

"Don't think like that Sam. It's not right." Rory rolled over to look at the older boy. "Ye also have to promise ye'll find someone else. I know how ye get. Ye'll get bummed and never want to love again. Promise ye won't do that. No cutting or guns either." Sam promised.

It wasn't until Rory's plane took off for Ireland the next day, that, even though he didn't want too, Sam felt cold again.

Like the sun on your face

It was still cold out in mid-March. Rory's departure had taken it's toll on Sam, even after being apart for so long, but he was intent on bouncing back from it into the air and stronger than ever before. His SATs were horrible though. He would have trouble getting into a good college. That and his plans of studying abroad in Ireland were shut down. However, Rory had instilled in the boy the power of positive thinking. Moving on wasn't easy but he was making progress.

Sam was on his way to the courtyard for his lunch date with Blaine. Things were going great since Blaine had admitted to having a crush on Sam. Hesitant at first, Sam opened up to him, revealing his past with Rory.

In the middle of the courtyard, Blaine sat at the table with a somber expression, rubbing his temples. Sam smiled widely. The teen looked up and saw him coming, his expression shifting to a quickly plastered smile.

"Hey Blaine, what's up? You looked a little down." Blaine waved his question away saying he was fine. They talked idly until Blaine stopped the conversation.

"Sam, I really wanted to see you so we could talk. I don't want to lead you on and I think you're getting attached." Sam was confused. "I still want to get back with Kurt. I feel like you may have gotten the wrong idea when I told you I liked you."

"How do you get the wrong idea when you tell someone 'I like you'?" Sam said his voice getting louder. "What have we been doing then Blaine? What was I to you?" He huffed looking around, the thought of looking into the others eyes made him furious.

"It's not that I don't like you...It's more that I'm attracted to you, not in the like like sort of way." And with that he was falling, down from his high, away with his newfound strength. The words cut into Sam's heart. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Okay." The blond replied. "I guess there's nothing I can do to change your mind." He said through clenched teeth. The pain overtaking him, like someone was reaching into him and squeezing his heart, he tried to stand and walk away, concentrating hard to keep his legs from buckling.

It was a never ending cycle of love and heartbreak. Since the time when Blaine had told him he liked him, he felt like he was whole again. Sam felt less numb to his feelings than before. He felt like he did when he was with Rory. And again, he was being left behind for someone else. Someone supposedly better than he was. Which wasn't hard for him to believe anymore. He wasn't much. Nothing but eye candy, no substance. No wonder people took him for a joke. He was all smiles and no sting. And the cycle he was in was never going to stop

The dreams of starry night

Sam never knew of moments like this. Moments where things were too good to be true. He hated this moment. Sebastian lay upon his chest. Sam absentmindedly played in the beach sand as he laid on the beach towel, one arm behind his head.

"I don't usually act like this," Sebastian started, "but,uh, I feel different around you. What are we Sam? Do we date now?" Sam's face was emotionless.

"Honestly?" Sebastian had looked up into his eyes with an eager joyful look in his eyes. Deep in his twinkle filled expression. He remembered that twinkle that he also once possessed. "This is just sex. I don't want anything more from you."

"What?" Sebastian propped himself up to get a good look at Sam.

"You heard me. This. Is. Sex. Nothing more. If you want to pretend it's something more, go ahead. You can play the starry eyed romantic looking for love and I can be the one that eventually finds something better to fuck and trust me it won't be hard." His voice was indifferent, but his acerbic words brought tears to Sebastian's eyes.

"But Sam I-"

"How about you stop right there. You're a kid. Some immature kid who falls in love too easily. That's probably it. You're gonna get hurt a lot in your lifetime. I'm just preparing you." He concluded. "Now are you going to lay back down or not? I'm getting cold." Sebastian rested his head once again on Sam's chest, his hot tears falling on his cold skin.

And we are homeward bound

His parents were waiting for him when he got home. The moment he entered the house they bombarded him with questions as to where he was, to which Sam answered without faltering.

"I just got back from Sebastian's house." He said. It wasn't enough for his parents, they wanted to know what he was doing there. "We were fucking." Sam replied climbing the stairs. His parents watched in awe as their son closed the door behind him.

"Samuel Evans!" His mother screamed after him. His father was enraged, his yells could be heard from a mile away. "What happened to him?"

"He's crazy! Who the hell is that 'cus that sure as hell isn't my son! Fucking boys and being so disrespectful! What the hell is going on with him. I want nothing to do with him! He is out of here, I swear it, no damn way is he going to act like that and live in my damn house."

Seconds later, Sam came out of his room, fully dressed, and grabbed his car keys.

"Where the hell are you going?" Mr. Evans yelled after him.

"I'm tired. Of all of you."

And I

I want this more than life.

Sam drove all night, down to the shore of lake Michigan. The sky was still dark as he turned the engine off and got out of his car. He left his shoes at the shore and began walking down to the docks.

I want this more than life...

This was drowning. It astounded him. The feeling of dying was exhilarating. Without breath and slowly wading in the water.

And his eyes shot open. He held his throat tightly as the fear finally hit him. His eyes burned in the water. Sam kicked wildly to reach back up to the surface but he wasn't moving; his limbs too weak to move himself under the pressure. The visions of his past loves flashed before his eyes. Everyone who left him, left him to live alone and cold, surrounded him. He clawed at them, swiping at their bodies in the water. It was their fault. They never loved him. No one did.

He inhaled, and water began filling his lungs.

"Sam!" Quinn yelled as she pulled him up above the water.

"Get up here." Mercedes held him tight against her body and wrapped a heavy coat around him.

"Ye promised me, Sammy." Rory pumped his chest, and breathed air into his body. Sam could hear sirens in the distance.

"We're sorry." Blaine apologized.

"Sam, don't go." Santana weeped over his face. "We love you."

"Sam!"

"Sam-"

"Sam"

"Kid!" The voices changed, turning burly and deep. "Kid, stay with me. Wake up. Stay awake." The man said slapping the side of his face repeatedly. "Wake up." Sam tried to hold on. He tried to. For them at least. He knew now how wrong he was. His eyes fluttered and closed as his chest heaved, rising and falling a few times, then his body lay still.

I want this more than life.