A/N: As per usual, I'm not associated with Glee, Fox, RIB or the Cast. No copyright infringement intended.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012; 8:47 P.M.
Sam Evan's Bedroom; State College, P.A.
It had been the longest day Sam had been through in a long time. Not only was he alone hours away from his friends and still striking out with the people around here, it was Valentine's Day. Of course it was. He hated the holiday as it was, but especially now.
After dinner and helping Stacey and Stevie sort out their bags of Valentine treats, he sat down at his desk and laid his head down on folded arms. When he had contained his thoughts, he heaved himself up, flipped open his laptop and started the email he had been trying to type, to no avail, for the past six weeks, knowing that it was well past time to get it over with.
"Mercedes,
I've been meaning to respond to you for ages. I just can't seem to find the words. I know you're upset. I know it was a mistake. I know that you were scared. Believe it or not, I've read every one of your emails, listened to every one of your voicemails and taken to heart every message you had Puck, Finn and everyone else relay.
You may feel as though that should make everything better. You may think that I'll just forgive you and everything will go back to the way it was; that because you were basically nothing more than friends that that should alleviate some of the damage. It doesn't.
In reality, I don't even owe you this much. I've spent a lot of time crying over you and I can't anymore. I can't care. I can't want you, knowing that you'd do something like this to me. Some of that blame may lie with me, but I did nothing to make you believe that there was anything with Chelsea. She was trying to be helpful. That was it. I can't believe that you would make a friendship out to be some road block.
What did I really do to drive you to the arms of some other guy? I know that it couldn't have been just that. Was I not good enough for you? Were people telling you to let me go? I hope you know that I tried the best that I could to be the best man for you. I thought that was what you deserved. Now I'm not sure what you deserve.
I want so badly to hate you, but I can't. I want to love you again, but I can't. I don't really know what I can and can't feel for anyone anymore. I try to make it seem like I'm alright, not that anyone around here would know better, but I'm not. I'm numb.
Apparently, you've been asking for some formal word from me as to where we stand, like it wasn't apparent from me hightailing it out of Lima on New Years, well here it is: we're done. You've hurt me more than you can imagine. I expected it from Quinn and Santana. I would never have expected you to treat me the same way, but I guess all of you really are the same. I guess, though, that I can't hold this against you any more than I can them, but for some reason, it hurts so much worse. I trusted you. I loved you. If, by chance, our paths cross again, it will be nothing more than as friends.
There's really nothing more I can promise you. Nothing more I can say. I Maybe someday we'll be friends again but I don't see that happening. I'd be lying if I said that this wasn't killing me inside, but it's for the best.
Sam."
He clicked the send button and slammed his laptop shut.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012; 9:34 P.M.
Jones' Residence; Study
Kurt and Blaine had dragged the rest of New Directions out to the Warblers' Second annual Valentine's Day show at Breadstix. She had seriously thought about faking sick to get out of it, but she knew that she would never hear the end of it if she had.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she wanted desperately to go to bed but something was pulling her into the study. She sat down at the keyboard and started a familiar arpeggiated tune, then slammed her hands down with a discordant clang. She looked around and then her eyes fell on the computer. Eventually, she moved to it and pressed "on."
The girl watched screen after screen scroll by as she absentmindedly clicked on whatever tickled her fancy. Finally, she reached her email account, not really sure why. Maybe there was some sort of sale email from some store that she could look at the clothes for a while until she figured out what she was doing in the first place and then she saw it. His email address jumped out at her immediately and she knew this was why she had come in here.
She read his words carefully, despite the tears that clouded her vision. The more rapidly they fell, the harder it became to read, though she reread it every bit of fifteen times. It was absolutely Sam; simple and to the point.
Attempting to compose herself, she pressed her hands against her face, trying to mediate the temperature. She closed her eyes and took a few steadying breaths before she forged on, gaining the strength to press reply.
"Sam,
Thank you so much for responding. I was beginning to feel foolish for thinking that you would. You had every right not to, but I'm glad you did. That's not to say that that is anywhere near the feeling I have right now, but I guess I deserve that.
I hope so much that you really do know that I am sorry. So, deeply, extremely sorry. I know that that doesn't mean anything, really, but I just hope you know.
Also, I know that you were up here last weekend. Kurt told me. If you wanted the last of your stuff back, I could have given it to Kurt to give to you, or you could have stopped by. It's fine. I also understand that the boys are going to visit you some time soon. I'll probably send it along with them.
Look, I miss you. I miss us. Can we please talk? I know that's sort of asking for a lot here, but I think, now that a bit of time has passed, I owe you the full version. I know that I told you all there was to know, but that wasn't just it. I'm confusing myself now.
Alright, I think I'm going to stop typing now. I don't want this to end this way. I'm sorry, about everything."
She typed and deleted I love you fifteen times until she decided that it was probably not the best idea.
"I hope, despite everything else, that you are okay.
Mercedes."
After a quick reread, she added a quick post script.
"P.S. Tell Stevie and Stacey I said Happy Birthday tomorrow."
Wednesday, February 15, 2012; 10:01 A.M.
State College Area High School; Computer lab
"Mercedes,
There's really nothing more to say. It's over. You're sorry, I get it.
If you could give whatever else I left to Kurt to give to Finn, I'd appreciate it.
Goodbye.
Sam."
He quickly logged out, slid his backpack on and rushed out of the room, glad to be done with it all. He didn't owe her any more apologies. She didn't owe him any more sentiment. It was over. They were old enough that that should suffice. It's not like they had even dated very long. Just seven months, twenty days and some odd hours, but who cared anymore, right?
