hands — s.h.
summary: having a hand to hold might be the best thing on the planet
a/n: i’m a sucker for hand holding + the best friends to lovers trope so here’s this
It’s winter when he first holds your hand. There’s a bitter wind outside and it lifts your hair in spirals and nips at your nose. White sparkles of snow are falling around you, collecting on your eyelashes and melting when you blink. Your hands are deep in your coat pockets as you walk next to your best friend, cursing yourself for not bringing along gloves. Sam hadn’t either from what you could tell, but then again he didn’t really need them. His hands were always warm in comparison to yours.
A shiver runs down your spine as the wind picks up, carrying snowflakes with it. Your lips part slightly and your breath comes out in misty white puffs. The corner cafe just down the street seems miles away in this weather, and you do your best to bring your coat further up your neck to conceal it from the cold.