title : ten things i hate about you
oc / pairing : sam gray and angie
rossi (samgie)
trigger warnings : one use of an f-slur

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Angelo spent all week writing it. From the heart, he recalled his mother's words. Alessandra always said he wrote just like his father. The poetry was simple, but effective. He didn't think it was all that good. And honestly, he barely even tried. He just knew that he needed to write a sonnet. And technically, it wasn't even a sonnet, because when he asked the teacher if they wanted it in iambic pentameter, they looked at him in shock.

Now, he's sitting at his desk, looking at the piece he wrote. He's not too confident in it, especially sharing it. It shared too much of his vulnerability. Something that he didn't share, and he barely talked about anything to the people who he deemed to be friends with.

"Who would like to start?"

This made Angie look up. He's quiet. He doesn't know if he should volunteer or wait. He looked around the classroom. There are no raised hands. They're probably just as scared, or bored. Or just didn't do it.

Slowly, but surely, Angie slowly raised his hand. "I'll go," he said quietly.

The teacher didn't seem too amused. They never did, and he never cared. They motion Angelo up with a hand, moving away from the board.

Angelo walked up to the podium. He looked shorter than he usually did, wearing combat boots instead of the usual platforms. He put the notebook down on the podium, looking at the words. He felt awkward, slightly shifting feet. Everyone's practically staring at him.

"I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare," Angelo started. He's trying not to look at the person this poem is about. It's hard to do so.

"I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme," he continued.

It's started to get uncomfortable. The words are so simple, yet it's treading through deep territory. Angelo shifts from one foot to the other.

"I hate it── I hate the way you're always right, I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry."

He started to tear up. He felt so vulnerable right now. So exposed. He tried to stop it, but he couldn't, he just couldn't. The tears already started to stream down his face.

"I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call," Angelo cried, "but mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close. Not even a little bit. Not even at all."

He looked up. He doesn't mean to look up in Sam's direction, it just happened. Angelo could see mixed reactions all across the room. He doesn't want to take it all in. All he does is take his notebook and walk away from the podium. He doesn't sit down at his desk. Instead, he walked out of the classroom, wiping the tears from his face.

There's an abandoned art room that Hawkins high doesn't use anymore. He liked to lock himself in there when he couldn't handle anything else at school. Angelo sat at one of the tables. He has to climb on the bottom bar to sit on the stool. The first thing he does is put his head down on the table, buried in his arms. He's still crying, and he can't stop.

He's been there for the whole period. Every time he thought he was okay to go back into the public of school, the tears never failed to come back. Angelo just kept crying, like the faucet in his eyes wouldn't turn off.

Angelo didn't even notice someone entered the room until he heard the door close. He looked in the direction that it came from. He sees Sam looking at him. He looked shocked to even see him this way. Angelo immediately looked away after seeing him.

"Leave me alone," Angelo told him.

He could tell Sam was going to open his mouth to say something, but Angelo? He wasn't going to let it happen. He got up from his chair.

"Didn't you hear me?" Angelo asked, his voice a mix of annoyance, anger, and sadness, "Leave me alone, you pezzo di merda biondo!"

He then realized. No one knew about this room but him. Angelo found it in his freshman year when he was going through a huge anxiety attack, needing a place to hide. Now, it had been his own personal crying room at school. Or, at least it had been up until now.

"How'd you even find me?" Angelo asked, "no one knows about this room."

"Vera told me," Sam responded back with a frown, "she said I could either find you here or in one of the practice rooms."

Angelo scoffed. "Of course. That blabbermouth that I call a twin sister," he muttered.

He knew that he wouldn't be here if he didn't know that the poem was about him. It's quiet in the art room. Surrounded by old tables filled with old paint. Art supplies messily on some of them. There's only one window in the classroom. If it hadn't been for that, it would've been dark.

This is just about when Angelo gets up from his chair. He started to pace in the room. He's so confused. He doesn't even want to look at Sam right now, but something prompted him to turn around.

"Do you like me or not?" Angelo asked, tears still running down his face.

"I do!" Sam said back. He's overwhelmed for a lot of reasons. He's taken aback by his one honesty, and seeing Angelo cry ... He's never seen it before.

"Then why don't you act like it?" Angelo seethed through his teeth.

He's experiencing so many emotions right now. He can't even keep his heart in check like he normally does. It all just came pouring down. He went from angry, to small and sad within five seconds. Angelo hated every bit of that.

"You can't even kiss me when you're sober," Angelo whispered, tears still rolling down his face.

There's another pause between them. Everyone in Italy always said that he was poison. One touch and it becomes corrupt. He was now starting to think that it was true. His first boyfriend turned into his abuser, and now another guy has to be drunk in order to kiss him.

"Am I just that hard to deal with ...?" Angelo muttered, "am I that hard to love?"

Sam couldn't even look at him. He felt ashamed for one, for a multitude of reasons. He can't believe he's just standing here, watching the shorter one cry about this.

"It's not that, it's just," Sam started, "it's wrong, Angelo. To like you. I'm not a fag."

That didn't hurt as bad. But he's heard that excuse so many times. Angelo knows it's taught behavior, and usually he wasn't so patient when people said it. And now, he wasn't as patient with Sam. The anger crept in again. He was going from high to low within a matter of minutes.

"Oh, stronzate," Angelo hissed. He started to walk, shaking his head. "It's not wrong, people are just stupid."

"My mom isn't stupid," Sam said back.

Angelo said nothing afterward. He knows how he feels about anyone insulting his mom. He doesn't, even though she probably deserved it. He sat back down. He's at a different table in the same classroom. Tears start rolling down his face again.

"It's not fair," Angelo cried, his voice is the tiniest it's ever been, "It's not fair. I look at Tony and Natra and think, 'God, why can't I have something like that?' I can't help but feel a little envious. I just had to go and fall in love with the most complicated person in Hawkins."

Sam walked toward him. He's pretty speechless at this point. The blonde sat down next to Angelo. There's more silence between them. It's like they could never talk without something getting in the way.

"I'm sorry, Angelo," Sam mumbled.

Angelo didn't even know how to respond. He's definitely surprised. Sam doesn't apologize for anything. Ever. He's never heard him say that. Well, until now. He's even more surprised when Sam leans in and gives him a gentle, tiny kiss on his cheek. And he was sober doing this.

Angelo sniffled, finally turning his head toward him. "You mean it?"

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "Mean what?"

"That you're sorry," Angelo told him.

Sam slowly nodded. "Yeah, I mean it."

Angelo sniffled again. He attempted to wipe his tears away, but they just kept flowing. He was in such a vulnerable state. He'd never let anyone in Hawkins see him like that. His family barely even saw that out of him.

Sam's now facing him. He reached over, gently wiping his tears for him. Angelo is a little caught off guard, but he lets it happen. It's rare that he's received a gentle touch from Sam.

The blonde then leaned in. Angelo could tell he's nervous. His lips were shaking. But, he placed a very gentle kiss on his lips. Angelo almost immediately kissed back. This is the first time Sam's kissed him without being drunk. He wasn't going to waste the opportunity.

They pull away. Angelo didn't think much of it, but he put his head onto Sam's shoulder. He slightly felt him stiffen up, but he doesn't care at the moment. No one was gonna see them anyways. No one cared about this room.

"At least you don't smell like a cheap liquor store this time," Angelo said quietly.

They heard the bell ring. Angelo didn't want to go to his next class. He's already emotionally drained from all that's happened. He's already comfortable on Sam's shoulder. Angelo isn't leaving the room anytime soon, and if he was, it was to leave the school.

Sam looked down. "You wanna skip?"

Angelo playfully scoffed. "Duh. There's no way I'm letting anyone else see me like this. And you saw too much."