Okay! So this is just a three-shot (or a three part one shot... In this Freddie never met Sam. And they all will seem out of character, I suppose. But, I believe you all will still really like it. But then again - I am biased. So enjoy and don't forget to review!
Disclaimer: Don't own iCarly. Wish I did though...
"Maybe we have to break everything to make something better out of ourselves." – Chuck Palahniuk
The first time he came through my window was a complete accident, though I didn't find that out until much later. I didn't know it then – I don't think he knew it either – but, he saved me that night. One simple mistake that forever changed my life.
There was a shuffling outside. A branch smacked my open window. I ignored it and threw another tissue in the trashcan. It missed just like the twelve others tissues surrounding the metal basket. I surveyed the empty room. My eyes scanned over the cluttered desk, the papers strewn across the floor, the large pile of clothes in the corner of the room that I needed to wash, they stopped on the empty bed next to mine. I was sitting in my dorm. My bed not five feet from the other. It was unmade, sheets clumped at the end of the bed, cover coming off. The hot pink pillow cases were barely hanging onto the pillows which were lazily tossed about the bed.
Carly's bed.
The tree brushed against my window again. I didn't pay any attention to it. I had to tear my eyes away from the bed in order to stop the oncoming threat of new tears. I went into the bathroom to wash my face. The fact I had been replacing sleep with crying for the last week clearly showed in the bathroom mirror. My normal bright blue eyes were dulled to a cloudy grey and my blonde hair was tangled and stuck up in several places. I quickly ran a brush through it, straightening it out.
I left the bathroom, forcing myself not to look at the bed. It wasn't hard, though, for someone was crouched on the windowsill watching my every movement. I froze, my body attaching itself to the wall. The grin the man showed gave me no comfort. His teeth were white – almost too white for my taste. I immediately felt uneasy around him, and it wasn't just because I had no idea who he was.
"Who are you and what are you doing in my room?" I questioned him. He chuckled and stepped down into the room.
"I'm not going to hurt you." The answer alone made me feel worse. I told myself I couldn't trust this man, he was probably just coming in there to rape me for his own sick pleasure.
"Who are you?" My voice trembled despite my protest to appear unafraid.
This was a new experience for me. Fear. Most of my life I was considered fearless but lately, I was anything but fearless. My confidence had significantly been lowered and I didn't feel like myself anymore.
He smirked and walked over to where I was. When he was halfway to me, I pulled myself away from the wall, gathering courage. "Stay right there!" I ordered him. His smirk never disappeared as he stopped and held up his hands, palms facing me.
"What's your name?" He asked me.
"Sam." I whispered. My answer shocked me. I didn't know this man, I didn't know what he was doing in my room, and here I was telling him my name. I shouldn't trust him, but there was something in the way he smiled – the way his beautiful brown eyes shone – that made me feel like it didn't matter. His brown hair was short, but not too short – sticking up slightly in the front, showing off his prominent jaw line. His black hoodie hung loosely around his torso. His jeans were slightly loose but fit him effortlessly, matching perfectly with his faded black converse.
"You've been crying." He said, his face not inches from mine. I jumped, startled. I had been so intently staring at him that I didn't even notice him walk over to me. His hands lightly touched my cheeks – his warm hands burned against my ice-cold skin. "So what is wrong Sam?"
"You never answered my question." I answered instead. I bit my lip. His hands were soft and kept tracing all along my jaw.
"You never answered mine." He retorted.
I shook my head. "I don't wanna talk about it."
"Oh, but don't you?" He cocked his head to the side and stared into my eyes. It felt as if he was staring into my soul and reading everything within me. It was like he knew what I was thinking even before I knew it myself. I closed my eyes, pressing my cheek against his still lingering hand.
"My best friend just died." The words blurted from my mouth before I could register what I was saying. His hand slipped from my face and he took a step back, shoving both hands in his jeans' pockets.
"Harsh." His answered surprised me. I was so used to hearing someone say how sorry they felt, or how tragic her death was. Someone who wasn't even all that concerned, but didn't want to seem like an ass. But his one word, despite how much of an ass it made him seem, summed up exactly how I was feeling about everything. Harsh. "So what happened?" He was sitting on Carly's bed by then. He patted the spot next to him. I took a seat across from him on my bed.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. "I just said I didn't want to talk about it."
"And yet you still told me." I looked at him.
"You haven't even told me your name."
He shrugged. "So what happened?"
"She died in a car accident." There it was again. I was telling someone I didn't even know something I couldn't even talk to my parents about.
"Ouch." But maybe that was it. He wasn't Spencer or Melanie. He wasn't going to give me any heart-felt sympathetic crap; he was just going to say whatever he thought about it – no matter how it sounded coming out.
Oddly enough, I found it comforting.
The bed squeaked as the man laid down, sending my heart into a spasm attack. He was lying on Carly's bed. A bed I couldn't even bring myself to look at and he was lying on it? He made himself comfortable, picking up a picture from the nightstand. He smirked looking over the picture.
"So, how long were you friends?" His voice was taunting, but it wasn't directed towards me, it was just in general.
"Fourteen years." I swallowed the lump burning in the back of my throat just from saying those few words.
He chuckled. "Sure looks like she knew have to have a good time." His eyes were glancing around the room and the various pictures hung up around the walls of Carly and all her friends at various different parties.
After high school, Carly began to change. College changed her. She began going out to parties all the time and she constantly had a boyfriend. She wasn't the same girl I grew up with but that didn't change our friendship one bit. She and I were as close as ever.
I nodded. "What about you?"
"I don't like going out that much."
This was true. While Carly began even more of a social butterfly, I became a recluse. I started to actually want to focus on my grades and not go to parties anymore. I didn't see the appeal of getting drunk and hooking up with random guys every night. Carly wasn't the only one changed dramatically by college.
"I figured."
"Excuse me?" Instead of answering my question, the man got up off the bed and began to walk towards the window, sticking his head outside as he leaned against the ledge.
"So what are you doing inside on a night like this?"
"My best friend just died."
"So?"
"So, I think I have the right to stay inside!"
"You would rather stay inside and wallow in your own self-pity than go outside and enjoy the night?"
"Right, because it's so much better to sneak into girls' dorm rooms like some sick perv instead!"
He smirked. "You think of me like that?"
"Well…Yeah, I mean, I did…" My voice trailed off. By then, I was standing beside him at the window. The cool breeze blew my hair gently.
He looked at me and smirked. "You did?"
I felt my cheeks burn a crimson red as I ducked my head to avoid his gaze. "I shouldn't be doing this…" I muttered. "My sister just died and I'm here flirting with some guy that I don't even know his name to!"
"So now we are flirting?" He gave me a cheeky grin that this time was tauntingme.
"Shut up." I mumbled, walking back to my bed. He turned away from the window and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his chest, foot leaning against the wall. And, of course, his smirk was still written on his face. I buried my face in my hands as soon as I sat back down on my bed. I knew there was no way I was going to get any sleep that night.
"Don't cry." The words were whispered so softly that I almost didn't hear them. I looked up to see the man still standing in the same position as before, but his smirk was gone and in his eyes there was nothing but compassion.
"I can't help it!" I yelled to him. "It seems like all I can do lately is cry! I can't concentrate on school; my sister is constantly calling just to make sure I haven't killed myself, and I can't even look at her god-damn bed without breaking into a fit of tears! I've got some strange man standing in my dorm room, and I can't even gather enough courage to tell you to leave! And now, you're standing there, telling me not to cry?" My voice was in hysterics. I searched for a nearby tissue, but found none. A smooth hand was shoved in my face, holding a tissue.
He sat down next to me on the bed, handing me the tissue. "That is exactly what I am telling you to do." I buried my face onto his chest, letting out another sob of tears. He held me in his arms softly. He didn't usher any back-rubs, or 'shh's, he just held me and let me cry. It wasn't long before I stopped crying, my tears ceasing to flow from my eyes, and I just sat there, shivering in his arms. The man pulled back, stripping his hoodie from his body revealing a form-fitting white t-shirt that show off rippling muscles. He handed me the jacket. "You need it more than I do."
I took it gratefully and put it on, instantly embraced with a warm sensation. I had felt so cold for so long that even just this hoodie was enough to keep me warm through the deadest of winters. He laid back in my bed, pulling me down with him. He didn't pull me on top of him, or press himself over me. He simply pulled me down next to him. His arms held me in a strong embrace and I nuzzled my face against his neck, my breathing soon slowing into a deep sleep.
When I woke up the next day, the man was gone. I had thought it was all a dream - that the night had never happened. But, when I walked into the bathroom that morning, I found that I was still wearing the black hoodie. Inside the front pocket was the tissue I had used the night before. I smiled to myself as I threw it away in the trashcan, pulling out the bag to throw away for good.
