Pride
Umm…I don't own iCarly. Obviously.
I've always been stubborn.
Headstrong, pig-headed, bull-headed, mulish, stubborn Sam. My pride, to me, has always been my crowning glory. It's kept me strong, and it's made me who I am. For my entire life I relied on my adamant will as my drive to achieve everything, and prove to everybody my invincibility. As horrible as it sounds, pride has been the only thing I could ever rely on to keep me moving forward in life. To demonstrate to the world that I was tough, that I didn't need kindness or humility to stay strong.
I've always hated being stubborn.
Carly always tells me that I need to focus more on being virtuous, that maybe if I exert a bit more effort to be good, that I won't need to rely on my pride and arrogance as a shield. I suppose I should listen to her. I mean, it's not as if I like being this way, contrary to what I (hope) have made them believe. Living with something as dangerous as pride for a motivation has often been my downfall. What I mean to say is that it hurts whenever someone reaches underneath my shield and pierces me, because I know that each time they do I grow weaker inside. I lose a small amount of that strength, because I know deep down that the defense is growing old.
And it's always stopped me from being truly happy.
I can't be with him. I could never be with him. On a shallower level, I tell myself that it's because even after all these years, Freddie's still just a giant dork who has to keep even his underwear ironed. (Some kid of weird sanitation thing that I'll never understand) And that even if I did decide to date him, everyone would laugh and point and say "Oooh, look at Sam! I can't believe she stooped to so low a level." I wouldn't be able to take it; not just because I don't deserve him, but because he doesn't deserve me. I'm disgusting. I eat barbequed ribs in my undergarments and pick the wax out of my ears and lick it off the tips of my fingers. Perhaps it would seem to anyone but Carly that I had no pride whatsoever, but in truth, it's the pride that makes me do it. I do it to drive people away, because I could never reveal to anybody how weak I would be without my pride.
Carly knows me better than anyone. Sure, we act like ditzes and have our air-headed fun, but she knows as well as I that that's not who we really are. I know her like a beloved book – one that's been read over and over again so many times that someone could read a sentence out of it and you'd be able to finish the rest of the paragraph, word-for-word. I reckon it's the same with her, because she addresses my innermost turmoils like I had written them down for her as flashcards. I love her so much, and I was indescribably relieved when we were accepted into the same universities. Santa Barbara had better watch out.
But as for Freddie…well, it's around him more than anybody that I let my guard down. When he told me he was accepted to Cornell, I think he saw how truly happy I was for him. What confuses me the most is that he's the one I should be the most guarded around, and I swear, it really was like that at first. But over the years it seems more and more like I – like I can't. I'm not a fool; I know I'm in love with him. But I don't want to be. It hurts just how much I don't want to be. When he told me he was leaving within the next month however, I realized that we would be on opposite sides of the country, and that most likely I wouldn't see him again for years.
At that moment, I was glad for keeping my pride. I was glad for never revealing how I felt about him, and I resolved never to tell him. Because I didn't want him under my shield, I didn't want to expose him to all my weaknesses and leave myself vulnerable and feeble to him. I was Sam, Sam whom all knew as the girl with the unbreakable heart of stone. I didn't want Freddie to see just how ugly I was underneath everything. So I leaned on my pride like a crutch for those last few weeks we had left and took care to stay myself; my pig-headed, stubborn, arrogant self. It didn't work. I should have known it wouldn't work.
"So you're leaving tomorrow morning?" I ask, not meeting his eyes. In fact, I don't even turn around. He doesn't say anything, but I hear his footsteps approach and he sits down beside me, mimicking me and letting his feet dangle over the edge. I like coming up to the roof, especially on summer nights like these; from here I can see the entire city and skyline, and the mountains shaded a deep violet behind all the lights.
"How'd you know I was there?" Freddie says finally, breaking the silence.
"I heard you. Anybody can recognize your giant elephant thuds in a heartbeat." I say, finding a pebble with my hands and heaving it off the roof.
He chuckles and shakes his head. "Same old Sam I've known for years. I'm really gonna miss you, you know."
I bite my lip and look up at him. He is staring at me with a strange expression. I don't recognize it, and it's making me uncomfortable.
"Miss me?" I scoff, turning away. "Why would you miss me? All I've ever done to you is call you names and bully you and inflict physical violence on you. Believe me, Benson, I'm really not worth missing."
"Sam," Freddie says softly.
I turn and look at him again. He is very close, and I can smell his cologne mingling with the crispy night air. I feel dangerously intoxicated and his next words don't really register in my mind until I begin to focus.
"Sam, you're worth everything. What would make you say something like that? You know you're my best friend, and I'm missing you whether you want me to or not. Besides, I know for sure you're going to miss me just as much."
"Shouldn't you be wasting your time with Carly instead of me?" I say, upset. I wince because my voice is bitter, which I had been trying to prevent.
"We said goodbye at lunch today. Remember I called you, and you said you weren't hungry?" Freddie responds with a wry smile.
"I wasn't," is all I can think of in reply.
"Exactly. Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" He asks, leaning closer to me. I refuse to meet his gaze, relying on my pride again to keep my resolve strong.
"There's nothing to tell."
"I think there is."
"Well you're wrong! I said there's nothing the matter with me, so drop it, okay? I'm not worth it! After everything I've done to you, you can't treat me like I'm worth it, especially not the night before you leave. I hate you, Freddie, I hate your slimy, filthy, twisted guts, so just leave me alone!" I yell in his face. I am breathing heavily and my face is hot, and when I realize how close I am to him I turn away, glaring at the giant Pepsi billboard across from us.
I feel something soft touch my face and my heart jumps. I look at him again and I realize he has laid his hand against my cheek and is rubbing it with his thumb. Meeting his eyes, I see everything I wish I didn't see and yet yearn to see forevermore and I feel my pride begin to crack. Before I know it he is kissing me, and this time I close my eyes the moment our lips touch, and for just a brief, golden, happy moment time is stopped and my pride has vanished and I kiss him back with everything I feel. Freddie, the warmth of his skin, the softness of his hair, the feel of my hand in his…I never want it to end. But I pull back anyways.
"I hate you too," he says, gazing steadily into my eyes. How can he be so strong like that? How can one look from him be so steady, so constant? How does he do it without pride? Perhaps he really is truly strong on the inside. Maybe I really am alone.
"Freddie…" I say, bowing my head. "I can't – we can't – it could never be. I don't love you, and you don't love me, and you're leaving for college in the morning anyways, so we can forget any of this ever happened and just live our lives-"
"Stop it, Sam." He says. He squeezes my hand, which has somehow become intertwined with his. "Why can't we, for just one night, abandon all pretenses while there's still time? Forget for a moment that I'm leaving. I know I've wanted this more than I could take, and I know you feel it too. Please, Sam, just for now, stop pretending."
"I'm not pretending!" I scream at him. "I meant it – I hate you! I hate Cornell, and I hate Santa Barbara, and I hate kissing, and I hate you! Do you hear me, Benson? I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!"
"Liar!" he yells. "You're just afraid! You're afraid of anything good that ever happens to you because you think that it's just a ruse, and you're afraid to trust because you think you're weak inside even though you're not, and you're afraid to swallow your pride and let me in because you don't want anybody knowing how you really feel! That's weakness to you, isn't it?"
"Shut up!" I shriek, standing up.
"No!" Freddie says, standing up as well. I look up at him and realize how much he's grown. "Listen to me, Sam. If I left without telling you that I love you, I would be making the worst mistake of my life. For years, I was an idiot not to do anything about the way I felt, instead hoping to distract myself with Carly. But it was you, Sam. It was always you, the entire time. And it always will be you, don't you know that?"
"Go away," I say, making to leave. But he grabs me by the shoulders and stays me.
"Please, don't say it," I whisper, knowing full well that he won't listen to me.
"I love you, Sam."
"Shut up!"
"I love you, I love you, I love you." He whispers, kissing my forehead.
I start crying. Not the graceful tear-sliding-down-the-cheek I was hoping for, but I actually burst out bawling. This can't be happening, it just can't. I don't it want for it to happen, I can't take this right now. But all my stubbornness and arrogance can't seem to stop the sobs that keep throwing themselves out of my mouth so that I shake with each one. Freddy draws me close, and I don't want this safe feeling that I get, or the comfort that radiates from the hand he uses to stroke my unruly curls. Finally, after what seems like an eternity the weeping subsides and all I am left with are dry eyes and occasional little sniffs. But I am still in his embrace.
"Freddie," I say, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. "You're gonna come back, right? I mean, you'll visit us every so often, won't you?"
"Duh," he grins, and I curse my heart for skipping a beat.
"Good," I say, stepping away. "Cuz you're alright. And make sure you keep in touch."
He smiles sadly and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear with a tenderness that makes me shiver. "I just wish we'd had more time."
I don't say anything, but I want to. I want to reciprocate every word, every touch, every look he's given me tonight. But I don't allow myself. Instead I watch as he walks slowly back to the staircase with a heavy heart, whose weight only increases as I see him turn around before he descends to give me a final smile. And I smile back at him, merely because I want him to remember me that way for a long time. Suddenly I am emotionless, and I contemplate whether or not I did the right thing for myself by letting him go. And then I remember how wrong we are for each other – how wrong I am for him – and my broken pride begins to mend itself. But I can't help reliving his parting smile, his kiss, and his soft voice. They swirl through my head and intoxicate me, and I think maybe, just maybe, there's room for someone other than Carly underneath my shield.
(Pretend this is a divider thingy: Okay, so I like happy endings, and I feel like writing one, not going to sleep, so ima do it. Read.)
Epilogue:
Three years later
Carly wants to buy me a dress. I don't like dresses. Never did.
"But it's Christmas. We're going to a church. Don't you think it's polite to wear dresses to church?" she asks.
"Pa-rum-pa-pum-pum," I say, reminding her of her favorite Christmas song. She rolls her eyes and drags me into the mall anyways, with me only halfheartedly letting her lead me because I can smell the food court from all the way down here.
I sit on one of the recliners near the dressing rooms while she runs about, snatching dress after dress off dozens of hangers and throws them to me, while I reject each and every one. That is, until a vibrant green sleeve poking out of a nearby clothing rack catches my eye. Glancing around nervously, I stand up and slowly make my way over to it, making sure Carly doesn't catch sight of me. I pull it out and blink, because I actually like it. It's a bright green with elbow-length sleeves, topped with a v-neck and a flowing, embroidered skirt. I stand up on a chair and yell out at the top of my lungs, "CARLY!"
"Sam!" she says, and I whirl around to see her standing right behind me.
"Look what I found!" I exclaim happily. She looks pleased with my choice and points me over towards the line saying, "Well go buy it, then," and I cheerfully take my place at the end while she goes back and returns everything to its proper place.
The line moves slowly, and I grow bored. I look around for something to do, and I remember that I still have the bill from the restaurant we ate lunch in. I dig through my purse and pull it out triumphantly, and then proceed to yank my hair-tie out of my ponytail and stretch it between my thumb and forefinger. Then, biting a piece of the receipt off, I chew it into a ball in my mouth and place it into slingshot formation.
As for my target, I decide on the couple walking past the store entrance. I squint one eye and fire, and to my delight, the paper wad zooms with pinpoint accuracy across the room and collides with the man's cheek. I fight the urge to laugh hysterically as he whirls around, looking for the culprit.
But by some stroke of fate, our eyes meet, and I feel my heart begin to race as I see a pair of very familiar brown orbs lock with my own. My jaw drops because it's Freddie, my Freddy, here in California with his mother. He looks surprised too, and then he touches the spit-ball with his finger and grins, flicking it off gracefully. I am too shocked to move or do anything, which doesn't help because he walks up to me with such speed and eagerness that it renders me speechless.
"Hey," is all I can manage. But it's enough.
"Hey," he says back.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
Um, yeah. Right now I wouldn't mind if Freddie ended up with Carly, but idk, I just think Sam and Freddie are more realistic together. They just make sense. Anyways, it's probably not a very good story since I wrote it at twelve in the morning. Oh, well, I'll put it up anyways, since this is my first iCarly fic.