A/N: This is just an idea that came to me one night that I felt inspired to write (Oooh, rhyming). The first few chapters are just to sort of 'set the mood' (That sounds weird…) so not much will be happening yet. I have the first few chapters already written so updates shouldn't be too spaced out, maybe once or twice a week? Anyway, please stick around and enjoy!
Rated T for safety.
I don't own iCarly, that's Dan Schneider's I'm afraid…
Three years, two months, a week and four days.
That's how long it'd been since Freddie and Sam broke up. Admittedly, they didn't break up like a normal couple would (but when had they ever been 'normal'?). There was no shouting or screaming, no accusations or betrayals, just an exchange of 'I love you' and 'I love you too'. Then that was it.
Three years, one month, three weeks and a day.
That's how long it'd been since Freddie last saw Sam. Two weeks after they broke up, she left. He'd spent days (131), weeks (18), months (4) looking for her and he found nothing. All that remained of Sam ever being a part of Freddie's life were a few scribbled notes written on torn bits of school paper that had been flung at him during many of Mr Howard's classes, and memories. Freddie still had plenty of those.
However, after keeping hope of finding Sam, from October to February, Freddie decided to place the notes covered in Sam's untidy scrawl in a box, a small cardboard shoebox, and bury it deep inside his bedroom closet. Much like the metaphorical closet formed in his mind where he buried his memories of Sam in a small cardboard shoebox right at the back.
He gave up.
Then he said goodbye to his teary-eyed mother (who loved him enough to give him a tick bath every week up until the age of fifteen), his best friend (the last remaining host of iCarly, a web show that was ended soon after Sam's departure) and the city he'd spent the better part of his life in; and stepped onto a plane to Massachusetts, where he'd be attending MIT for the next three years of his life.
A year, a month, two weeks and six days.
That's how long it'd been since the last time Freddie stepped onto the fire escape just down the hall from his old apartment. He'd come back to Seattle for part of winter break, like he did every year, so he could visit his mom and Carly when she came back to visit Spencer, who Freddie also came back yearly to see; yet this year he found himself arriving at Bushwell Plaza early, whilst his mother was at work. As Freddie wandered around the apartment complex waiting for his mother to return home and allow him entry to the flat he was currently locked out of, (his mother had never been keen to hand her son a spare set of keys as she worried he'd somehow manage to stab himself with them, get a fatal infection and die. Even after he'd gone to collage she worried about these sorts of things often) he found he'd subconsciously made his way to the fire escape.
"I was just going to say that-"
He found that those memories, the memories he'd buried deep in the bottom of the metaphorical cupboard in his mind, had began to over flow the moment he stepped out the building.
"That we should kiss?"
The next thing Freddie knows, he's sat on the iron steps. In the same position he was way back when blue cheese dressing in his shampoo bottle, his phone being sent to Cambodia and first kisses were his biggest problems.
"Well… Should we? Just so both of us can get it over with?"
It felt like his mind had been set onto autopilot.
"…Just to get it over with."
"Just to get it over with."
"And you swear we both go right back to hating each other as soon as it's over?"
"Totally. And we never tell anyone."
"Never."
Freddie was shocked at how much he'd remembered. How real this place made it seem. Even after all this time.
"Well… Lean."
Freddie was abruptly brought back to reality by his mother's voice sounding from the other side of the window.
"Freddie-bear, what are you doing out here? It's freezing!" Marissa Benson licked her index finger before lifting it next to her face, a thoughtful expression on her face that quickly turned to a heavily anxious one. "It must be at least 39 Fahrenheit out here!"
Freddie just laughed (at his mother's strangely precise measure of temperature) and stepped back inside the apartment building, glad for the distraction from his memories of the girl who got away.
Please let me know what you thought via the review button beloooooow. Constructive criticism is great, but please don't be too harsh.
