Title: I Said Maybe
Author: Phish Food
Disclaimer: The School of Rock belongs to someone who is not me. The title of the story comes from a song by Oasis, called "Wonderwall". And no, they don't suck.
Pairing: Freddy/Summer
A/N: Right, so I sat down, determined to update my other SoR story, "Should I Stay or Should I Go", and this little ficlet popped out instead. Hopefully you'll all like it, even though I'm experimenting with a new writing style. This story is slightly fragmented, completely angsty and at the end it gets a little corny. Still, please review, even if you only have awful things to say. Anyways, for anyone waiting for the next chapter of "Should I" (and I doubt there are many of you left), have patience. It's coming, I promise! Oh, and by the way, the words in italics are flashbacks, and those that are bolded are the song.
I Said Maybe
The stage was Freddy's second home. No, strike that, it was his first home. After all, it was far more comfortable than the modern art exhibit posing as the Jones Estate.
And on stage, he was with people who cared about more than simply ensuring Freddy stayed out of serious trouble.
People who asked him about more than how his day was.
Friends.
So, one could honestly say that, under the bright lights and behind his cumbersome drum set, Freddy Jones was truly happy.
At least, that was usually the case.
But not tonight.
Tonight, the spotlights Gordon had carefully orchestrated were too bright, too glaring.
The gel Eleni had spent far too much time sculpting his hair with felt like cement, weighing him down.
Each time he hit the pedal on the bass drum, it felt as though he were smashing his head against a brick wall.
The sticks were lead in his hands, heavy, unbearably so.
And it was all because of her.
Her. Dark eyes, like coal, burning right through his own. A sweet, innocent smile. Thick and slippery dark hair, falling like a curtain, blocking out the rest of the world so that it was just the two of them.
Perfect Summer Hathaway, Langford's icy virgin queen had been his girlfriend for all of three months, four days, and eight hours. Not that he had counted it.
Their relationship had been a shock to the Prep school, and not even because the two were polar opposites.
There was also the tiny fact that they hated each other. Intensely.
It was a matter of gold stars and demerits that made her hate him. He supposed she never did understand why he "never applied himself."
And it was a matter of gold stars and demerits that made him hate her. He never really understood why she had to be so uptight all the time.
But that all changed, in the stage wings right before a long-forgotten concert. It was hot and humid, and really, Band Managers should never wear such revealing clothing. Especially around teenage boys, who are still ruled by their hormones.
The rest, as they say, is history.
It was a different kind of dating for him though. It was innocent. Clean. Kind. Things he now realized he'd never be.
Because the picture-perfect high school romance ended all because of him, when insecurity came from the sky, and sucker punched him in the gut.
"Freddy? Are you there? My connection's fuzzy." Summer's voice comes in over the phone, and the reception is indeed, less than perfect.
"Yeah kiddo, I'm here. What's up? It's - " he checks his watch. "1 AM. Is everything ok?"
There is a pause, and he can tell she's nervous about something. "Well, don't worry, everything's fine now, I just didn't want you to . . . worry, I guess."
Freddy is impatient. "What is it? What's wrong? Are you still at that record guy's house? Are we in?"
Summer gives a nervous laugh. "So many questions! I don't know about the deal yet, but I have a good feeling - "
Freddy cuts her off. "That's great! I knew it! I'm gonna be a star! And it's all because of you kiddo, best band manager EVER!"
"Listen, I have to tell you something. Dewey had a heart attack this afternoon - "
"Shit!" Freddy interrupts again. "Is he, y'know, ok? I mean, how is he?"
"He's fine. Or, as fine as he can be, I guess. The doctors say he'll recover, Richard's with him right now, you know Richard Melvin, the record guy? Which brings me to the reason I called. I'm alone here. With Zack."
Freddy swallows hard. Zack is his best friend, sure. But the guitarist has never hid his feelings for Summer.
The girl rushes on, "But you REALLY don't have to be concerned. I'm definitely not encouraging him, and he must have gotten the hint, because he hasn't bothered me for the past little bit."
Freddy's teeth clench. "But he was. Hitting on you, I mean."
"No, not exactly," she stammers.
But in the background, Zack's voice can be heard. "Now where were we?"
Just then, irony comes into play, as the connection fades away completely.
"FUCK!" he screams, but to whom he is not sure.
At a loss, the blonde collapses back onto his bed, his imagination going into overdrive. Cheesy images of Summer and Zack making out in front of a blazing fire, in a huge mansion keep running through his mind. Needless to say, he is disturbed.
Suddenly, he reaches over and dials a number he has long since memorized.
"Hello?" a sleepy voice answers. It is Edith, a past girlfriend of Freddy's, and Langford's resident slut.
"Hey babe."
Edith continues to sound confused. "Freddy? What are you doing? It's like, early."
He is annoyed. "So?"
"I'm TIRED!" she whines.
"I don't care. This is a booty call. Wanna fuck?"
She giggles. "Of course, DAH – ling. C'mon over."
And thus, Freddy's relationship with Summer became exactly like every other fling he'd had – meaningless and insignificant, something to be discarded as soon as he got bored.
Only . . . at the same time, it didn't.
Because even when he was with Edith, the petite brunette never left his mind.
When the girl's arm snaked behind his neck, and her fingers sunk into his hair, it was Summer's body he imagined that arm and those fingers to belong to.
And when moans of pleasure reverberated around the room, they were Summer's, not this blonde vixen's.
Even as he filled her, his imagination was adamantly certain that it was Summer, not Edith who was quivering underneath him.
Unfortunately, no matter what Freddy had deluded himself into thinking that night, nothing changed the fact that he had indeed, cheated on his girlfriend.
Even more unfortunately, Edith wasn't exactly the sole of discretion, and by Monday morning, it seemed all of Langford knew about Freddy's rendezvous.
Including Summer.
Freddy is walking through the courtyard, and it seems as though he is the focus of the entire student body's attention. Girls are whistling, and boys are slapping him on the back in an admiring fashion.
He wonders, for a moment, exactly what he has done to deserve this fanfare, when suddenly he notices Summer trudging over angrily, flanked by Zack and Katie. All of a sudden he feels sick.
She stops a mere few feet away from him, and gazes into his eyes for one long, hard moment.
Her eyes are not alight with the laughter he loves so much, and her mouth his not curved upwards in his favorite, cherry grin.
Instead she looks completely indifferent towards him, and it is only her eyes that betray the tears she is keeping at bay.
"Tell me it's not true," her voice is so quiet he has to strain his ears to hear it. "Tell me its just one big lie, and I'll believe you."
Lying to her would be so easy; because for the last eighteen years Freddy Jones has become a damn good liar, and Summer Hathaway has always been so freaking trusting, and innocent.
He knows she'd believe him if he told her that the rumor she heard was just Edith messing with her head. Because that's just the kind of person she is. The best kind, the kind that cares, and trusts, and gives. The kind that he couldn't be further from.
In one split second he decides that he's screwed her up enough in this relationship, and that she deserves at least this last bit of decency from him. So he is honest.
He squeezes his eyes closed, because he can't bear to see the hurt and vulnerability he knows will be swimming in her eyes.
He can't bear to know that he is the cause of all her pain.
That her innocence, which he has always cherished, is slowly ebbing away. And it's his own damn fault.
When he opens his eyes again, she's gone, and so are Zack and Katie. And so, he thinks, is a little bit of himself.
That same emptiness had stayed with him for all of the three weeks, one day and sixteen hours that they have been broken up. Not that he was counting, or anything.
Band practices haven't been the same, as of late.
Of course, Summer still comes to the rehearsals, and does her managing thing, but she flits around, like a firefly, and she never looks him in the eye.
The avoidance hurt, in Freddy's opinion, more than the glares he received from Katie and the rest of the girls.
More than Lawrence's not-so-subtle reference to him as "cheating scum of the earth".
It hurt even more than Zack's constant smirking.
Because really, nothing could cause him quite so much pain as seeing Summer notice him in the halls at school, and deliberately turn in the other direction.
In fact, the mere remembrance of her avoidance caused him to wince, and subsequently step a little too forcefully down on the crash pedal.
Dewey turned away from the mike and looked at him oddly, mouthing, "What is up Ringo Starr?"
Freddy furrowed his eyebrows, and resolved to concentrate on the music.
In no way was he going to become preoccupied by beautiful little bookworms, even if they were standing just over in the wings.
Wait a minute . . .
Deftly, Freddy twisted his head to ensure that Summer really was just standing off to his right side, mouthing the words to the song, a far off expression on her face.
Today, is gonna be the day/
That their gonna throw it back to you/
By now you should've/
Somehow realized what you've got to do/
I don't believe that anybody/
Feels the way I do about you now/
Backbeat the word was on the street/
That the fire in your heart is out/
I'm sure you've heard it all before/
But you never really had a doubt/
I don't believe that anybody feels/
The way I do about you now/
Oasis was certainly not the kind of band School of Rock usually did covers of. In fact they were far from it. However Summer, for whatever reason, loved them, and it hadn't taken much pleading on her part to get the band to try their hand at "Wonderwall".
One look into her sad eyes, and Zack had agreed to, not only have the band play the sappy nineties ballad, but to sing the song himself.
Zack. Singing. It was unheard of.
Not that Freddy could blame him.
Summer had that effect on people. You couldn't help but want to be a better person when she was around. She held everyone in such high esteem, and truly believed that there was some good in every single person.
She believed there was good even in Freddy. Believed that perhaps a bit too much.
Because, as he'd come to realize, there was no good in him, not really.
He was just like his father, a lying, cheating bastard. In some ways, he was even worse than his father.
Sure, Mr. Jones had his affairs. But at least he never led his wife on, never pretended that she was the only woman in his life.
Never lied to her. Never told her he loved her.
But Freddy had.
They, Freddy and Summer, are sitting in his brand new sports car, a Porsche 911. Freddy got it just today, for his 18th birthday.
The car, while flashy and expensive, means nothing to Freddy. It certainly means nothing to his parents, after all its "just money". Which is something the Joneses have plenty of.
He laments this fact to his girlfriend, who looks at him thoughtfully for a moment.
"Its scary, sometimes, how alike we are, isn't it?"
Freddy looks at her strangely. "What? Summer are you high? We're, like, completely different. I mean - "
Summer shakes her head. "No, silly boy, that's not what I meant. Of course we're different. Total opposites, in fact. For one thing, I can't skateboard." She laughs awkwardly, and shifts in her seat to face him. "But neither of our parents really care about us. My mom wants me to get good grades, and go to Harvard just so she can brag about me to the DAR. And your dad, well, look at this car. Your dad just wants to make sure you're the most envied guy at Langford. We're trophy kids, both of us."
Freddy stares at her, as she puts his emotions into words. He's never shared this with anyone before, and he feels a deep connection with this girl. A connection so intense, its almost scary.
Quite suddenly, he finds himself kissing her with an urgency he didn't know was in him. She responds feverishly, caressing the roof of his mouth with the gentle passion that is her tongue.
She removes her mouth from his, and before he can groan in protest, she is nipping the corners of his mouth, and tracing his jaw line with tender little kisses.
The tenderness of her actions has Freddy at a loss. The warmth, care, and genuine affection, it breaks him.
He is not the kind of boy who clean girls, like Summer, should be giving gentle kisses to. As if to prove his point, he deters her movements, and begins to mark a trail of his own in wet, open mouth kisses, leading down her neck.
At the base of her neck, he suckles the skin, biting down slightly, hard enough to leave a telling mark. Her moans of pleasure reverberate in his ears, encouraging him to continue his path down to her chest, deftly flicking open the buttons of her shirt as he went.
Her skin is at once both sweet and salty. She also vaguely tastes of lemons. Huh. And Zack had always said that Summer seemed like a vanilla type of girl. He smiles against her stomach at the thought of knowing something about her that no one else knows.
As he reaches the top of her jeans, he realizes that this is "the farthest he's gotten" with Summer, and he's quite certain this is the farthest she's ever gone with anyone. Ever.
Summoning all the will power he possesses, Freddy repositions himself so that his face hangs mere inches over Summer's.
Her hair is slightly mussed, due to his hands, and their over-eagerness to feel its texture, and her lips are even fuller and redder than usual.
But her eyes are what really gives away the fact that she has been engaging in activities that most parents would not approve of. They are alit with lust, and as she gazes at Freddy with open adoration, he is overcome with emotion.
"I love you," he pronounces solemnly, and honestly.
Slight surprise registers on Summer's face, but there is not a trace of confusion. Smiling slightly, she pulls Freddy closer to her, so that his body can cover hers comfortably. It is as though she is trying to protect Freddy from the world, while at the same time drawing protection from him for herself.
She stokes the back of his neck in a methodic manner, and whispers in his ear, "Me too, drummer boy. Me too."
Yes, he'd actually told her he loved her, let her believe that for almost three whole months, and cheated on her.
He truly was an unforgivable ass-hole.
And all the roads we have to walk are winding/
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding/
There are many things that I/
Would like to say to you/
But I don't know how/
Because maybe/
You're gonna be the one that save me?/
And after all/
You're my wonderwall/
But had it all really been a lie? Because honestly, every time he uttered those three little words to her (and he had said them to her many times throughout the course of their relationship), it always felt real.
In fact, he often wondered if there was ever a time he was more honest, and more sincere than when he was with Summer.
He had always felt that she deserved more than lies, and deceit, and exploitation. That she was above the crap the "in crowd" at Langford were apt to dish out.
Unfortunately, dating Freddy had meant that Summer was thrown head first into his little world of petty games and jealousy.
Summer is walking down a hall at Langford, and a boy she has never met falls into step beside her.
"Hey, Summer."
She looks at him confusedly. "Hi. Um, sorry but, do I know you?"
The boy smiles charmingly. "No but you will. I'm Thomas Upton, a friend of Jones'. I've met a lot of his ladies, but damn, you are the finest."
She smiles awkwardly. "Uh, thanks. I've got to get to class."
Thomas quickly steps in front of her and, grabbing her hips, backs her up against some lockers.
"C'mon baby, I was just trying to get to know you. After all, we will be hanging around together now. You really should try to be more friendly."
Summer, however is ignoring the boy, as over his shoulder she has noticed Freddy . . . and he's not alone.
A girl with pathetically fake blonde hair and a kilt that is ridiculously short is clinging to Freddy's arm, talking animatedly. .
Freddy, for his part seems to be enjoying the attention, as he smiles charmingly down at the girl, and has placed his hands on her waist and is steering the tramp down the hall.
Suddenly Freddy notices that Summer is watching him. This realization is quickly followed by another, as he sees his "friend" Thomas pinning her up against the wall.
Freddy hastily lets go of his companion and approaches the other pair. "What's going on here?" he asks menacingly.
Thomas releases Summer so swiftly it is as if she has burned him. "N- nothing Jones. Just talking to your girlfriend."
Freddy glares at the other boy. "Oh yeah? And you couldn't stay a healthy space away from her?"
Thomas' brows furrow in confusion. "Jones, man, don't go all cave-man on me. It was some harmless flirting. Just like you were flirting with Blaire just now. No one got hurt, right?"
Angrily, Freddy shoves the red head against the wall. "Listen to me Upton, and listen closely. Summer is not like other girls. I don't want you hitting on her, I don't want you fucking with her head, in fact, and I don't want you to go near her. So just confine your 'flirting' to all the other little whores at Langford, and everything will be ok. Do you understand me?"
In a defeated manner, Thomas jerks himself out of Freddy's grasp and makes his way down the hallway. Halfway to his next class he turns around, determined to get the last word in.
"Damn. I never thought I'd see the day. Freddy Jones, ladies and gentlemen, is whipped. She must be one great fuck Jones. Let me know when you get bored, I'd like a turn with her."
He doesn't wait for a reply, and ducks into the next classroom.
Freddy turns back to Summer, whose eyes have filled with mortified tears. He hurriedly takes her into his arms and soothes, "Shh. Don't listen to Upton; he's completely full of shi- I mean of himself."
Summer gazes up into his eyes. "Freddy . . . I don't know that I can do this."
Freddy is perplexed. "Do what?"
"Do . . . this, you know, be your girlfriend."
"What, do you want to break up with me or something?" They are both surprised by the amount of emotion in his voice.
"Of course not," Summer rushes on. "Its just that, sometimes I feel that by dating you, I'm dating your entire crowd. And I'm not used to their mind games, and manipulations. I'm not used to having 'friends' who want to backstab me. I'm not used to any of this."
In a surge of understanding, Freddy smoothes out her hair, and rests his head on top of Summer's. "I know, kiddo. I know. We'll figure it out together . . . or something."
Yes, she had certainly been through a lot, and all on account of him.
Of course, he'd never doubted her strength. She'd proven a thousand times that inside her small, fragile body was a raging tyrant.
The way she managed the band with an ironclad fist.
The way she never backed down at school when someone disagreed with her.
The way she didn't stop coming to practices and gigs, just because the only boy she'd ever loved had shattered her heart, and seemed to have had fun while doing it.
She had, however, maintained her distance.
During rehearsals, Zack and Katie never left her side; in fact the two became the Paul Cook and Steve Jones to her Johnny Rotten, and at concerts, well, the girl usually filled whichever seats were furthest away from Freddy.
She certainly never strayed backstage, near the drums. At least not as of the past few weeks, anyway.
And yet . . . there she was. Still donning that dreamy, vacant expression that looked ridiculously out of place on someone whose features were usually so serious.
Then, without warning, she turned to face Freddy.
Their eyes met . . .
. . . And for once, they did not turn icy, did not make him grateful that the phrase "if looks could kill" was only a cliché.
Today was gonna be the day/
But they'll never throw it back to you/
By now you should've somehow/
Realized what you're not to do/
I don't believe that anybody/
Feels the way I do/
About you now/
And all the roads that lead to you were winding/
And all the lights that light the way are blinding/
There are many things that I would like to say to you/
I don't know how /
The rest of the sappy tune went by in a haze for the drummer.
As Summer continued to stare at him with those intense, probing eyes, he thanked god that the drum sheet to this piece was fairly uncomplicated.
Otherwise he was sure he would have quite possible ruined the song from the state of shock he was currently in.
His person was simply a jumble of conflicting emotions, each battling for complete control of his system.
He wanted the song to end now, so that he could bask in Summer's presence. Watch her from the corner of his eye; blatantly stare at her, whatever.
Maybe even talk to her.
But at the same time, he wished the song would stretch on, its end nowhere in sight.
Because he was safe, here behind his drums.
He didn't have to face up to any of his mistakes, didn't have to make any mistakes in the first place.
He couldn't hurt people, if he was stuck forever behind his drum set. Couldn't lie to nice girls, couldn't cheat on perfect girlfriends.
Couldn't be Freddy fucking Jones.
Alas, the former part of him won out in the end because eventually, as with all things, the song had to come to a close.
Zack's raspy voice, thick with emotion whispered the last few lines,
I said maybe/
You're gonna be the one who saves me?/
And after all/
You're my wonderwall/
Said maybe/
You're gonna be the one that saves me/
You're gonna be the one that saves me/
You're gonna be the one that saves me/
As usual, the band was rewarded with hearty applause from the audience.
Purely out of habit, Freddy raised his hands victoriously into their signature horns.
Also by instinct, he chucked his drumsticks out into the crowd, leaving the fans to fight for them.
He noted with vicious satisfaction that one of the aforementioned sticks catapulted straight towards Zack's head, knocking off his stupid hat.
Damn poseur, trying to be Slash.
Of course, his moment of glory was rudely interrupted. This was the worst part, Freddy thought, suddenly feeling sick.
Zack had meandered back stage, and now stood only a few inches from Summer
He said something that made the tiny girl smile, and Freddy watched on in some sort of sick fascination, his fists clenched by his side.
Bitter thoughts rushed through his head, among them "Why the hell does she prefer that bastard to me?"
A truthful voice that also came from within (and which also sounded suspiciously like Miss Hathaway herself) answered for him.
"Because you cheated on her. Because you always mess stuff up. Because you only ever make her cry."
Truly a man in agony, Freddy squeezed his eyes shut, and willed himself not to pick up his bass drum and smash Zack's head through it.
He was, after all, the screwed up ex-boyfriend, and he would pay his dues.
Slowly, the theatre began to empty. The seats vacated, and things began to quiet backstage.
Twice, band members approached the lone drummer, and both were ignored studiously.
Frankie was first with his invitation of "pizza, football, and beer with the guys", and Eleni was second with her offer of a movie night.
However, as both these activities implied socializing with School of Rock musicians, all of whom currently hated him, neither of them were attractive.
Not that remaining glued to his stool was proving to be all that clever of an option either. Honestly, being alone in a club was highly overrated.
"Hey."
A small voice informed him that his "being alone in a club" was also highly unlikely.
He whirled around to see who else but the girl whose memory had plagued him all evening.
"Summer," he replied noncommittally, desperately afraid his tone would give something away.
The gaudy red velvet curtains she stood in front of dwarfed her tiny form even further, and upon close inspection he could see that she was trembling.
"Summer, why are you here?" he asked tiredly.
She looked up at him with her big doe eyes. "I want to talk."
She didn't elaborate, and Freddy asked no further questions. Instead, the pair just stood on the stage, looking at each other, into the seats, at the floor. Anywhere but into the other's eyes.
Suddenly Summer spoke again. "I want to talk, and I want to help you put away your drums."
She was gifted with a strange look from Freddy.
He wondered, for a moment, what she would do if he asked if that was a euphemism.
Then he waved off the thought and began to disassemble the set.
Summer quickly came forward to help him, and the two of them made quick work of the task.
However, they had yet to "talk".
Soon, only the bass drum was left, still in its upright position, effectively separating the two teenagers.
Freddy moved to take it down, but Summer stopped him with her voice.
"Why didn't you tell me you didn't sleep with her?"
He played dumb. "Sleep with who?"
She gave him a knowing look. "Edith"
"I hate to break it to you kiddo, but yeah, I did sleep with Edith. Numerous times."
Clearly frustrated, Summer glared back at him. "I meant during our relationship."
"Wh-what?" Freddy stared at his shoes. "How do you know I didn't?"
"Because she told me, idiot. I've been tutoring her in math for the past few weeks, and I guess telling me she didn't help my boyfriend cheat on me was her way of thanking me."
At a loss, Freddy simply stared at her for a moment, before stumbling over his next sentence.
"Well then, how do you explain the rumors? Why would she tell everyone that we did it if we didn't?"
The girl sighed. "That's what I wondered too. But Edith said that on that night – you know, when Dewey had his heart attack, and I told you I was alone with Zack, and you thought I was gonna do stuff with him, and - "
"Alright, I get it!" Freddy interrupted, clearly disturbed at the mental images her words had conjured. "I know what night you're talking about. Now, what did Edi say about it?"
"She said that at like two in the morning, you called her up and said it was a booty call." Summer wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Classy, by the way. But then she said that when you two actually met, no activity of carnal nature in fact took place. However, she also added that you asked her to spread it around Langford that the two of you really did have sex. So, you've got some explaining to do."
Freddy's expression was that of a man preparing for his own execution. His eyes were closed, and his faced looked heavenwards. "Dammit Summer, this is something you just won't understand. You can't. Besides, it's a bit of a long story anyway."
Without breaking eye contact, Summer managed to flip the once-standing bass drum on its side, and promptly began using it as a makeshift seat. "Go ahead. I've got time."
He ran his fingers through his hair, and didn't answer her.
"Were you just that desperate to break up with me?"
It pained him to hear the desolation and vulnerability that were so obviously present in her voice.
"No, that wasn't it." His own voice rang out flat and emotionless.
"Then what? Were you bored with me, because I wanted to wait? Were you sick of me, or something? Was it my hair, or my clothes? Did I laugh too much, or maybe not enough? Was I not enough? Not pretty enough, not smart enough, not funny enough, not enough enough?"
She was screaming now, and Freddy had to shout to make himself heard. "No! You were fine, perfect even."
"Then what?" She was hysterical now. "God dammit Freddy tell me how you could do this to me? How could you just rip my heart out like that, and use it as some cheap toy? Because believe me, I have wondered. I've wondered and wondered – I've driven myself crazy wondering why you would do this to me."
Again, Freddy could not answer her as she stared at him breathlessly, could not, in fact, even bring himself to look her in the eyes.
So she continued her rant. "Were you trying to prove something, was that it? Trying to prove that even though you were dating a nerd you were still Mr. Freddy Playboy Jones? Still following in daddy's noble footsteps, playing with people's hearts and feelings? Still the student body's charming king? Maybe you just wanted to show everyone that despite what they might have thought, you hadn't changed at all, and were in fact still not a good person."
It was this last statement that really struck a chord deep down in Freddy's soul, even more so than her crack about his father. He was sure he didn't have the energy to force his voice a decibel above hers, and instead he spoke in a deathly quiet voice.
"Maybe, I did it because I can't be Zack Mooneyham."
This stopped her in her tracks, and left her mouth to form a perfect "O". She looked completely taken aback, and her eyes betray that she clearly worried for his sanity.
"What made you think I ever even wanted you to be like Zack? When have I ever wanted you to be anything other than what you are? I loved you." She said it as if it were an accusation.
"I know you did, that's just it. You shouldn't have. I'm not the kind of person you should love, Pixie. I'm not good for you."
"And why do you get to decide that?" she asked angrily. "I'm not a freaking child, you can't protect me from the evils of the world, Frederick. And you sure as hell can't protect me from yourself. Not when I don't want you to."
Freddy found that her anger was contagious, and now for some inexplicable reason he was pissed off at her too. "Oh, I know that. You want to change me, to defrost my heart or some sappy romantic bullshit like that. Well guess what Tinkerbell, you're too late. I'm damaged and broken and there is not a fucking thing you can do about it."
"I could have if you let me try. But you cut me out before I even really got close to you. I'm sorry if I wasn't the dream girl you expected, but all I ever wanted was to help you."
At the sound of her self-doubts, Freddy's anger evaporated instantly. He sunk down to his knees in front of her, and took her small hands in his. He registered dim surprise when she did not slap his hands away.
"Summer, believe me, you were my perfect girl. But I was always afraid that one day you'd wake up and realize that I was just some miserable screw- up who wasn't going anywhere, and maybe you'd leave me for someone more deserving like Zack, or Marco, or even Lawrence. Your presence made me question my own self worth, made me feel guilty over my past actions. Because you know, I have had sex with Edith, and many other girls. I'm not pure, like you, and I'm hardly good. But I'm here, and . . . I'm yours."
With this, an emotionally drained Summer closed her eyes, and leaned her forehead against Freddy's.
After a moment, she curled a hand around his neck, and brought his lips down to meet hers.
The kiss was soft, almost experimental at first. It was clear that she was trying to express to him in one kiss what she could not do in words. Her lips were gentle and reassuring, applying only the tiniest amount of pressure so that Freddy found himself desperately yearning for more.
He opened his mouth slightly, so as to deepen the kiss, but her mouth remained steadfastly closed. Freddy smirked against her mouth. Fine, if that's how she wants it.
He turned his attention to her bottom lip, slowly, nibbling his way along. He was gratified to hear Summer moan in soft pleasure, and this time it was she who made a move to intensify the chaste kiss.
Freddy, however, mimicked her earlier torture by refusing to open his mouth. He had waited almost a month for this, and she was going to have to work for it.
Clearly hesitant, Summer's tongue darted out and traced the outline of Freddy's closed lips. He groaned audibly, and suddenly the kiss turned electrifying.
It was brutal, and hungry, and for once, just plain not nice. There was biting and licking, and it was a chaotic battle of teeth and tongues. Freddy pushed her body back so that she was lying on top of the large drum, and he in turn was on top of her. The position was painful, uncomfortable and certainly not ideal because the instrument could cave in at any moment from this extra-added weight. But these items were the last on Freddy's mind as he buried himself deeper and deeper in this haze of passion.
Only when breathing became absolutely necessary did their lips part, and Freddy drank in the appearance of the girl underneath him. Her lips were swollen, and bruised, and her eyes were blank with lust.
"Well look at this; you and a drum set, my two favorite things to bang." She smiled faintly at his rather crude joke, but her eyes were thoughtful.
Quite unexpectedly, her hands flew to her shirt, and she deftly removed it from her person. As she began to work on her belt, she asked, "Do you have anything? I'm not on anything yet."
Eyes entranced by the sight of her half-naked body, Freddy found it difficult to put together a coherent sentence. "Wh-what?"
Summer looked shyly up at him. "You know, like a, like a condom? I mean . . ." she broke off at the startled appearance on Freddy's face. "Aren't we going to . . . don't you want to . . ."
He placed another innocent kiss on her lips before responding quietly, "Pixie, I'm not going to make love to you for the first time on top of my bass drum, in a dirty theatre, no matter how much my hormones argue otherwise. You didn't let me save you from getting stuck with someone who is definitely no prince charming. At least let me make your first time romantic."
She smiled blushingly at him. "Sorry. And thanks."
He wasn't sure how long they lay there, a mess of tangled limbs draped over a drum. It could have been hours or only mere seconds. Time, space, it all meant nothing when he was with her.
After awhile, she turned back to him and wondered softly, "Freddy, how can we be sure its going to work this time? What if one of us freaks out again? I don't know if I could go through this kind of torment again."
"I don't know. We're just gonna have to trust each other. I love you, you know that?"
"I do," she grinned. "I love you too."
A moment passed, and Freddy realized that his companion was fast asleep, snuggled deep against his from. Lovingly, he kissed the top of her head and fully aware of the level of cheesiness he was descending to, whispered, "There are many things that I would like to say to you but I don't know how. I think maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me."
And he too sunk into an easy sleep, content, redeemed and, finally saved.
Finis