Set after iOMG. Don't ask how I got this idea; just grab a box of tissues, and some Ben and Jerry's. Now read it it and weep.
The Idiot Who Cares
Seattle is cold, rainy, wet, and generally dreary. She's known that since, well, forever. But now - as she walks beneath the overcast sky, rain on the horizon - it's never looked so depressing.
Bland black converse hit the sidewalk in a slow, steady pattern. She desperately wishes she hadn't worn shorts in the middle of November, but it's too late now, and she's not turning back. In hopes of keeping herself warm, she wraps her arms around her chest, tugging her long sleeves over her fists.
With difficulty, she's trying to slow her breathing. She had been running hard, fast, only moments before—and only now she's regretting it.
She blinks her eyes rapidly. She won't cry. She can't cry. She doesn't care, remember? She doesn't care about a single thing; not now, not ever.
…But if that's so…why does she hurt so much?
It wasn't new to go to her best friend's apartment; after all, she practically lived there. The door was locked but it was only a minor setback for her. Without even thinking about it, she took a bobby pin out of her hair and picked the lock in a matter of seconds.
A smile on her face, the girl threw open the door, a rush of heat warming her face. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it all in before saying, "Hey, hey Carlotta. Is Fredwardo here—"
She stops smiling. Her breath catches in her chest.
On the couch, only a few feet in front of her sit her best friend and the dork. Making out with a passion she's never witnessed before. His hands are already halfway up her shirt, whereas hers are running through is hair. Every few seconds, one of them would moan happily, before continuing the heated kissing.
They don't even notice her.
Not when she gasps.
Not when she glares.
Not even as she spins on her heel and slams the door behind her.
With the recollection of the memory comes an overpowering need to vomit violently. She swallows it though, because she doesn't care.
Thunder rumbles above her, just as the rain begins to pour. She curses and runs under a nearby tree, trying to save herself from the torrents of rain. "I really don't need this right now universe!" She grumbles angrily. "I just watched them…watched them…
"Kiss." There, she said it. She admits it, a confession. She had watched in horrifying fascination as they broke her hear into a million peices.
"But I don't care," she continues, ignoring the fact she is telling this to the sky, "Because he makes Carly happy. I'm her best friend, I love seeing her happy!"
Then why does it hurt so much?
The girl clenches her teeth, just as a gust of wind blows the rain into her safe haven. She curses again, much louder this time, even flipping a finger off at the sky. With angry resolve, she leaves the tree, not caring if she gets wet. Because she doesn't want to care about anything.
"Will everything please leave me the fuck alone?" She hisses, feeling like she's about to break. This stupid pain—why won't it just disappear? She can't punch it, she can't kick, but it's there and she doesn't know why.
That's a lie. She's reduced to lying to herself now. She knows exactly why it's there; she just doesn't want to admit it.
It hurts because, without his knowing, she'd given her heart to him. It made her want to gag. She'd given her heart to a dork, an idiot, a nub—and this is how he repays her? Kissing Carly like she's the only girl that exists?
A bitter laugh slices through the air. "Serves me right. There's no reason, not a single one, why he should like me." Thunder growls softly, as if understanding. She looks up, rain running down her cheeks like tears.
"Why are you doing this to me? I…he knows! I kissed him! He knows that I…that I love him but he still wants Carly anyway? Since when is Freddie such an asshole?"
Her head drops, chin meeting her chest, as real tears mix with the rain on her face. "Idiot," she chokes out as the sobs shake her shoulders.
"I'm such an idiot."
Lightning strikes, illuminating the tears on Sam Puckett's pale cheeks. She does care about Freddie and what he did to her— she cares a lot. Too much in fact; she's never cared about anything that much, or anyone.