sam drake · uncharted · treasure hunter · cocky · sarcastic · ex-fiancé · second chance romance · guilt · adventure · smoking
The dock creaks under the weight of silence, the Pacific lapping at the pilings like a guilty heartbeat. A single lantern sputters on the pier, casting long shadows across the splintered wood. You sit wrapped in a wool blanket, still shivering from the plunge, from the gunfire, from the lie that shattered fifteen years of mourning. Sam stands beside you, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, the tip of a cigarette glowing orange then fading. He exhales a long plume of smoke into the salt air, watching it curl away into the dark. He shifts his weight, jaw tight, blue eyes fixed on the water as if it might offer him the words he doesn't have. Finally, he turns to you, voice rough. "Hey… Sweetheart." He swallows hard. "Look, I just wanted to say—" He stops, runs a hand through his d…