a.n.
my very first iCarly fanfiction, sorry if they're OOC, haha.
disclaimer: i don't own any of the characters, all i own is the plot.
just a plethora of colors
or iCan't
shot down by strangers
whose glances can cripple the heart & devour the soul
/the bird and the worm, the used/
It swirls together into a haze of foggy memories and long-forgotten butterfly kisses.
He catches her when she is vulnerable one night, the thunder booming outside and lightning flashing outside the window. He is on the stairs and she is trembling, hugging her knees to her chest and blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. Gasps escape her lips as she tries to press them together, failing and shutting her eyes instead.
"Sam?" His voice, deep now because he is not a boy anymore, is barely heard over the crashing and rumbling but she hears all the same. She doesn't turn to face him and he can see her wipe her eyes on her sleeves, trying to be discreet.
"Go the fuck away, Fredward." She uses his full name but he doesn't care as of now.
"Okay, Puckett, what the fuck is wrong?" He knows her too god damn well and she hates it, she hates it so much.
"Nothing's wrong." She shoots a red-rimmed glare at him, one that would usually send him away in a heartbeat, but they're friends (not really) and he can't do that to her, he doesn't hate her that much (at all).
"Sam." He warns her, gives her a pointed look, but she's never been good at listening and prefers to mock him instead.
"Freddie."
She's all destruction-with-her-every-word, sarcasm and venom and he can't fathom why he even loves her—he doesn't he doesn't he doesn't. But then he's reminded of her spontaneity and her plethora of colors—and her anger, she's beautiful when she's angry—and he remembers why again. He hides his feelings with a façade, pretending to like Carly because she's the one they expect, the easy one and really, it's so much simpler being Carly-and-Freddie than Sam-and-Freddie.
No one would believe he loved her, anyway.
He gives her another look, like, 'don't-mess-with-me' and she resists, she always does.
"I don't want to fucking tell you, alright?" He shrugs, acting ohso nonchalant, acting like he doesn't even care and he thinks (hopes) that's what breaks her apart.
"I can't do it, Fredward." She is sitting with one leg still close to her chest and the other stretched out next to her, looking annoyed at herself (or him) because she never admits her weaknesses, she never does.
"Do what?" He tries to sound as serious as possible, he's lucky he even got that out of her and he doesn't want to push his luck. He takes a step forward, trying to get closer but she stops him with a glare. She gazes at a spot next to him, above him, she can't look him in the eye.
And then she stands up and she's got that blazing-determined-Sam look in her eyes and she crosses the room in two long strides and they're face-to-face, too close.
"Do this."
She crushes her lips on his and tangles her fingers in his hair. Vaguely, he wonders what his mother would think, but those thoughts fade away as she kisses him with ferocity, desperation, and he realizes he isn't kissing her back.
He steps back, removing his mouth from hers, staring at her, shock registering on his face because that kiss was even better than the first one, but they can't, and she doesn't mean it, and why is this so god damn hard?
Her plethora of colors brighten as she watches him, face growing angry and looking kind of betrayed but he can't do this anymore. He can't play this game with her anymore.
"I'm sorry."
And the colors fade away.
a.n.
please don't favorite without reviewing.