Chapter Text
Sammy doesn’t put much stock in dreams anymore. Joey ruined the idea for him. Not to mention most of his time sleeping is spent with nightmares.
But the recent dreams he’s been getting are- strange. Not in a sense of lingering inky madness. But they’re so much brighter than his dreams have been that that alone is strange. It was like something out of a picture book.
Sammy didn’t remember much when he woke up. Only left with a pleasant softness within him. Which at this point, he was willing to take. Jack eventually noted that it seemed like Sammy was sleeping better than normal. It was- nice.
Eventually, Sammy awakes one morning with a locket around his neck. Something he hadn’t been wearing the night before. It just- showed up. It was something Jack commented on as well, when he noticed. “When did you get that?” he asked. Something Sammy didn’t answer.
And it was an accident when Sammy figured out that it was more than JUST a locket. Happened when he had a moment alone in the busy house.
He yelps as his vision starts spinning. And he falls to the floor groaning as his head settles. Only for his eyes to snap wide when he registers that something happened to his voice. Sounding too- small.
Sitting up the room is- bigger than it should be. But it does not take long for Sammy to realize that he’s the one that has gotten smaller.
“What the-” he yelps as he quickly covers his mouth. Oh it’s all wrong! And looking down- why is he wearing a dress! What the hell happened to him?
He grabs a handful of the material of the skirt, feeling it in his hands. It… felt very real, so he might not be hallucinating. Although he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. If this is real…
He would have plenty of time to consider the implications when he has to scrabble into the closet and close it with as little a sound as he could when Jack came in. having heard Sammy’s tumble to the floor.
Sammy isn’t sure how long he hid in the closet. Even after Jack long since left the room. He almost got seen looking like- this. And while it’s JACK, and Jack is so- forgiving. Sammy felt sick at the idea of his friend seeing him like this.
Or anyone else in the house for that matter.
Sammy didn’t know how to turn back though. And that scared him, and that fear felt so- big in his chest. It takes him a bit too long to realize tears were welling up in his eyes. Curling up as he scrubbed them away harshly.
Sammy doesn’t realize when he ends up eventually falling asleep in the closet. But he does know that when he eventually wakes up, his back hates him for sleeping curled up in a goddamn closet.
And that somehow, he turned back.
.
.
.
Sammy figured out how to do the transformation on purpose. And how to turn back. That’s good, in case he accidentally transforms again. But he hasn’t had to worry about that since the first time.
He has… been transforming on purpose however. Only when he’s sure nobody would see him! Only when he’s sure nobody would know does he do it.
He once locked himself in the bathroom and let himself transform. To get a better look at himself in the full length mirror in the room. He could recognize this as himself, a version of himself anyways. He never had hair this long when he was a kid the first time. And the baby blue dress is certainly new.
He looks like a little girl, which… whatever magic this is might have actually turned him into upon transformation. An idea that he- didn’t totally object to. If only because being a girl didn’t feel much different then being a boy. A part of him worried about what that meant for him, but given how… queer he was already. This may as well happen.
It’s as he fidgets with his hands he realizes something very important.
He has all his fingers again like this. Five on each hand. Not the four and the scars where his ring fingers used to be before he cut them off. This revelation sinking in gets cut short when there’s a knock on the bathroom door as Wally complains about Sammy ‘hogging’. So the musician has to turn back and leave.
But when Sammy has the chance to, he slips into his closet and transforms again. And while it’s dark inside, he doesn’t need to see his hands, he can feel them instead.
“one.. . two… three… four… five…” he counts out the fingers on each hand. Once, twice, three times. To make sure each and every one of them are there. And they were. They were all there.
Sammy let himself quietly cry in the comfort of the closet.