A/N: *PLEASE READ* This will be a continuation of iLove You, in the most tragic way you'll probably ever read. Just a warning: it will not be one of those cheery, lovey-dovey, fairy-tale ending type of fanfic of the continuation of iLove You. Just be warned. But there will be plenty of Seddie. I can guarantee you that.
So this is my longest fanfic yet. Oh, and don't worry about any hiatus or abandonment. I will not abandon this fanfic because I am extremely confident I will keep writing nonstop because this is probably my best idea for a fanfic yet.
Enjoy. It's gonna' get pretty depressing at times, so if you're a sensitive person and love Seddie more than you love yourself (like me), then I suggest you go grab a box of tissues.
Oh, and I don't do disclaimers because I believe they're the most pointless things you can do. I go by this saying: If you were the creator, producer, or director of the show, what the hell would you be doing trying to make a work of FICTION of it if you can make it happen in the real thing? So yeah. I don't do disclaimers. I don't own the damn show. If I did, I wouldn't be on this goddamn site.
The first chapter will be the last moments of iLove You which I've already written in another fic ("I know I'll always know"), so if you've already read that fic of mine (If you did, thank you), you can skip to the next chapter. If you haven't, please watch the ending of iLove You before reading this chapter. Trust me. It'll be worth it if you do. C'mon… I did say please…
Oh, and I promise this is going to be the longest author's note in the entire fanfic. I know how annoying long author's notes are, so if you would please just read this one so you can get the gist of it, I'd really appreciate it.
Well, I bet you want me to stop talking now so you can start reading, so yeah, I'll shut up… Enjoy.
Highways and Hospital Beds
Chapter 1: I know. I'll always know.
"Freddie, I have to go," she said, her voice rumbling against his chest as she was wrapped up in his arms on their fire escape.
Their song, "Running Away" by AM, was playing softly on the stereo he brought out, its gentle rhythm soft against the dwindling August breeze.
I keep running away
Even from the good things
"No… please don't," he whispered in her ear, terrified that any loud noises would make her disappear from his arms, on the verge of tears. "Can't you stay for one more hour?"
"Freddie, I can't," she replied, her voice pleading. "You know it's hard enough as it is. And what's gonna' happen when the clock hits 1:00 AM? What then? You can't just keep extending the time," she murmured, her voice almost a whisper.
"Yes, I can," he pleaded, trembling slightly. "Stay here with me. Until… until… forever ends."
Did I tell you it's not that bad?
Sitting over here dreaming
She felt the first warm tear make its way down her face, rolling against the gentle flush of her cheek. She swiped at it quickly, remembering her sentiment about never being one of those overemotional, pathetic girly-girls who didn't know how to keep their emotions in check.
She sniffled, thinking about what to say.
"You're not being rational about this," she replied, sounding slightly stuffy. "I thought we agreed we'd give this some time. I mean… I love you, Freddie. I really do. It's just… I think we should jump into the whole best friends thing first before we do this whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing. I thought we agreed on it. You're not being reasonable."
"Who the hell needs ration when we already know we're in love?" he spoke angrily. "Why does ration and, and… reason matter when all I really need is you? I love you, too. Why can't that be enough?"
His arms tightened around her, as if he would never, ever let go. And truthfully, he didn't want to.
Did I tell you I'm right on track?
This time, I mean it
Her breath hitched. She'd always pegged Freddie for a sap, found it endlessly amusing now and then, but she knew deep down that he was like that because it was really how he felt about her. He loved her. Hell, he was the first to say it.
Just thinking about it started an endless stream of tears pouring down her face and down his. They didn't want to let it all go, but they had to. They agreed.
She finally decided to get up, getting on her feet and turning around to look at him. She looked a mess. Her mascara was running down her face in sporadic streaks, and the bags under her eyes showed the wear and tear her body experienced from the day's commotion.
It didn't matter. She was still beautiful.
I keep running away
Even from the good things
The song was beginning to dwindle down, and it finally ended, enveloping them in a melancholy silence.
He gazed at her, prepared for her to step through the windows of the fire escape and leave, holding onto whatever composure he had left. She looked down at her feet, realizing that her crying probably ruined all her makeup, not wanting him to see her like that. Weak. Vulnerable.
But what did she need protection from?
He got up, sweeping away a streak of curly blonde hair that fell on her face and swiping his thumbs at her tears, making the pads darken with her makeup. She whimpered, and before he knew it, she was leaning forward and wrapping her arms around him so tightly he almost couldn't breathe, sobbing onto his shoulder. He tried to manage a smile to make the situation less saddening, but the heavy lump in his throat wouldn't allow him to, and he felt his own rush of tears streaking down his face, leaving a stinging, burning path in its wake.
They finally released each other, and he led her slowly to the door of his apartment, wanting to take her hand in his and reached for it.
She pulled her hand quickly away and placed it on her neck before looking at him apologetically.
He looked at her and felt the tears begin to burn his eyelids again, a frown placed on his brow and on his lips. He swore he almost heard his heart crack against his chest. He didn't know what to say past the pain of the sudden pressure of his chest, knocking the breath out of him and preventing words from forming on his lips.
"I can't," she said, her voice cracking. "If you touch me, you're gonna' make me want to stay even more than I already do."
He nodded, still unable to produce words. It was words that had gotten them into this situation anyway, wasn't it? Carly's words, to be exact.
He walked over to the door and let Sam follow him, the urge to wrap her up in his arms still strong. His hands pulsed in response, and he clenched them, hoping they wouldn't shoot out and just hug her until she melted into him.
He placed his hand on the knob and paused as he realized what was going to happen in only a few seconds. But without another thought, he opened the door with a heavy breath.
This was it. It was time for her to leave.
She stepped out into the barren, dimly lit hallway. She turned around and looked at him with a face so sad he almost wanted to kill Carly for saying all those words and making them do this. He started to creak the door closed until she slapped her hand against it and took his face in her hands, pressing her lips against his so harshly he thought he felt a tooth chip. He let his hands fall naturally to her waist and create soft pressure. She finally pulled away, and a final tear left her eye and fell to the floor, the sound it made as it made contact with the floor just barely audible to their ears.
"I love you," he said, his voice trembling against his will, their foreheads touching. Just one simple touch there, and he could feel his forehead on fire.
"I know," she murmured, pulling away. "I'll always know."
With that, he pushed the door closed at its hinges, watching her through the increasingly small crack as he pushed it closed.
He just barely heard the three words escape her mouth before the door closed.
"I'll miss you."
He lost it.
He pressed his forehead against the door and cried loudly, not caring about "being a man" or "holding it together." Holding it together was the last thing he could do right now. He punched the door with his fist in frustration, not knowing what his emotions were doing. Angry. Sad. Frustrated. Confused.
He turned around and leaned his back on the door, sure that if he even tried to walk, he'd fall down with the trembling of his knees. He slid down against it, tears frantically making their way down his cheeks as he grabbed a fistful of his hair, needing something to hold onto.
She turned around and began to walk, but her body wasn't letting her. She tried again, and she realized she was frozen in place, her mind unable to send the signals to her legs to walk away from the guy she ever truly loved, and loved her back. So she leaned back against the door and let herself slide down slowly, loud sobs and whimpers escaping her body.
They could hear each other's desperate cries through the door, and, as if instinctively, they turned around on their knees and pressed a hand against the door. They gasped and pulled their hands away when they could literally feel the warmth of their hands through the door. They both smiled sadly and stared at their hands, wondering how it was possible that could happen.
A million questions suddenly pierced through his brain.
Did she know? Did she really know how much he loved her? Did he say it enough over the hour and a half they had? Could he ever say it enough? Did she know that, even though they were breaking up, he still loved her more than anyone in the universe?
As if she could read his thoughts through the thick wooden material of the door, she searched her pockets and produced a small piece of paper and pen she kept from brainstorming ideas for iCarly the other day. She popped the cap off and scrawled out the words with trembling hands and folded the paper up. She slid it through the slit beneath the door and without another word, got up and walked slowly away.
He could just barely see the small piece of paper at his knees through the blur of tears in his eyes. He picked it up, knowing it was obviously from Sam. His Sam.
No, not anymore, he thought sadly.
But the assurance that she would be his again someday brought a miniscule smile to his lips, the corners turning up ever so slightly.
Finally, he unfolded what was beneath the layers of paper thrown beneath his door, scrawled in Sam's signature penmanship.
"I know. I'll always know."