Title: Mathematics
Author: eleventhirty
Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. Obviously.
Summary: Alternating POV beginning after iGoodbye. Props to the awesome x4ashes4ashes and her blog for the plot bunny. Her story "iSteal Spencer Back" is one of the best things on this site. Seriously, if you haven't already, go read it. Now.
Author's warning: Again, this is a Carly/Spencer fic, so if this bothers you, please don't continue reading. Flames will be used to light my fireplace. That being said, enjoy!
~eleventhirty
Part 1: Carly
I don't want to love you.
At least not the way you love me.
It makes me feel jumbled, as if the contents of my mind have been violently mixed with my heart. Being with you...even thinking of you makes me feel wrong. Partially happy. Partially guilty. No, that's a lie. You make me feel so guilty it consumes my very soul. I'm the reason you don't have a normal life. With children. (I bet you'd be a great father.) And a wife.
We both try to pretend it away, but I can never be that for you.
Ours is a relationship based on secrets. Stolen kisses in the darkness. Stolen caresses beneath the soft cotton sheets of my bed. Whispers. You say you love me and I have to believe it. But how real can our relationship be if we can't even speak of it in the daylight?
For a while, I could convince myself it didn't matter. Once the sun set, my friends scattered, and darkness filled our loft, it was so easy to pretend. We'd stay awake long into the night, coming up with elaborate plans of a life together. I'd graduate. You'd sell more sculptures. And we'd run away together…somewhere far enough away that we could just be. Change our names. Cut all ties. Maybe get a dog. It wouldn't be a glamorous existence, but we'd at least be together.
It was my favorite daydream.
You can wish it away. Pretend it doesn't exist. But reality will always be lingering just slightly out of mind. Like when Sam shows up unexpectedly. Or Grandpa.
Or Dad.
I never thought he'd actually come back to take me to the father-daughter dance. Admittedly, I'd made it seem like it was much more important to me than it actually was so you'd offer to take me. I won't be attending senior prom this year, so this dance is really the only chance I have to dress up in a frilly dress. Spend all day pampering. Feel your arms close tightly around me on the dance floor. Little things that shouldn't matter, but actually mean the world to me.
And then Dad showed up.
And then our fragile existence together popped like a soap bubble in the sun.
I've always been a terrible liar. You know that. Not that he would ever think of it, but if he were to question me at all I knew I would collapse. So I spent the entire evening filling the silence nervously babbling about the mundane details of my life. iCarly. Sam and Freddie and their gloriously chaotic relationship.
You.
Your sculptures and their tendency to catch fire. Your willingness to humiliate yourself for the good of my web show. Your spaghetti tacos. And light up socks. And the million little things you do for me every day that make me feel like the most important person in the world.
The more I spoke of you, the more the shadows within Dad's eyes darkened. And the more forced his smile became. So I'd keep talking about you, trying to undo any damage I'd caused. And the vicious cycle would begin again.
He wanted me to come to Italy with him.
It wasn't an order, like when Grandpa tried to force me to move to Yakama. It was a lifeline. A reset button on the all-consuming entity that was our relationship. If I went with Dad…If I left you and our veil of shadows, I had a chance to live my life in the sun.
So I took it.
I hope you know that leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done. The pain in your eyes still haunts me, but seeing it affirmed my decision. You listened to the words of love I spoke, even though we both knew they weren't nearly enough. You exchanged kisses and touches with me that left us both cold. You smiled though your tears and pretended to be happy for me.
And I left.
And God help me, I can't regret it.
