"Guys! What was that about?" Spencer shouted, bursting out of his room and trying to pretend he hadn't been watching. Freddie and Carly parted and looked over at him, their faces telling the whole story.
"Sam saw us getting... close," Freddie muttered, self-consciously stepping away from Carly. "I don't think she took it well."
"You don't think?" Carly cried hysterically. "You don't think she took it well? She ran out of her crying! How the hell could that be taking it well?" Freddie put his hands up defensively, admitting defeat. Spencer frowned and kicked at the ground.
"This is not good," he noted quietly. "Not good at all."
"Well duh!" Carly screamed, rounding on him. "Sam never gets upset, and this is the second time I've seen her cry this week! She can't deal with that on her own!" She turned and slumped onto the couch, breathing heavily and burying her face in a cushion. Freddie reached out to put a comforting hand on her back, but she batted it away and he edged cautiously backward.
"She might have just gone home or something," Spencer suggested. "Maybe her mom could-"
"You've met her mom, Spence," Freddie sighed. "We all know she ain't gonna help anything." Spencer nodded sadly and kicked the ground again.
"We gotta find her before she does something stupid," Carly said, sitting up and wiping her eyes dry. "She can't have got very far yet."
"She's stupid enough at the best of times," Freddie muttered to himself, flinching when Carly shot him a death glare. "Well she is!" Carly's eyes flashed and she stood up, glaring furiously at Freddie. Spencer shrank back a little.
"This is your fault, Freddie," Carly snapped, stamping her foot. "You shouldn't have sunk to her level in the first place."
"Me? Carly, look-"
"No, you listen to me, Fredward Benson." Freddie shut up instantly. She never called him Fredward. Carly continued, her voice quiet and cold fury radiating from her. "You and Sam have spent your whole lives arguing, and fighting, and it's gone too far now. I don't wanna hear of your stupid excuses about it not being your fault, because you play along and encourage her and it only makes it worse. What Sam saw there may not have been much, but it's sent her over the edge, so I'm telling you now - if anything happens to her, anything at all, you can give up on anything like that ever happening again, ok? Now I'm going out to look for my best friend. And if you care at all about either of us, I would hope you'd do the same." With that she stormed out of the apartment, pushing roughly past Freddie as she did. He watched her with his mouth gaping.
"This is not my fault!" he cried. "Why is this my fault?" Spencer silenced him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Worry about that when we get Sam back," Spencer advised him quietly. "Arguing now isn't going to help anything. Although you could stand to be a little nicer to Sam next time you see her."
"Why does everyone keep blaming me?"
"Hey! No arguing." Spencer raised a hand as Freddie opened his mouth again. "I'm not blaming you directly, but Sam's in a fragile state right now and antagonising her won't do any good."
"But when she does it to me..."
"Hey! I'm not saying she's right. All I'm saying is that whatever has happened between you is not the issue here. She... she really cares about you, you know." Freddie rolled his eyes and barked out a harsh laugh.
"She does not. She only even puts up with me because of Carly."
"Freddie, she was in here twice last week because you argued. Crying. For hours." Spencer stretched his arms out wide to emphasize his point. "She likes you more than you might think." He patted Freddie consolingly on the shoulder and headed out the door.
"Just think about it, Freddie," he said. "I'm gonna go help Carly."
"I'll... yeah," Freddie muttered as the door closed. He ran a hand distractedly through his hair and sighed. He'd never seen Carly so angry before - he hadn't thought she could be that angry. The sight of her face as she pushed past him was tattooed in his memory, and as much as he tried to bury it, it wouldn't go away. Her eyes carried a fury he had never seen in anyone before, directed full-force at him, but it seemed like there was nothing else to it. Beneath the anger was a broken heart. She was dead inside. Freddie growled and massaged his forehead furiously with his knuckles, willing the memory to disappear, but still that face glared endlessly at him. He let out a wordless scream and kicked hard at the couch, only succeeding in injuring himself. With a faint sob he simply fell forward into it, burying his face as Carly had done to hide his tears from... who? The apartment was empty and no-one would be around to see. But still he remained with his face buried and hidden as he cried silently. It had been going so well. Carly was speaking, she was happy, he was happy, and he was going to sort things out with Sam, move on. And then... then the dream had come crashing down around him and he was left more alone than he'd ever been in his life. There was no way out of this, no way to make it right again, even if they could find Sam. Even if they made up, it would never be right. Carly's fury burned into his body, piecing his very being, and that could never be taken back.
"It's her fault!" he screamed into the pillow. "It's always Sam's fucking fault!" Even without trying, she'd destroyed his life again, and this time she couldn't rebuild it.
It was over an hour before Freddie was able to get up again. His eyes were red, his face was wet and his hair was mussed from the couch. He staggered into Spencer's bathroom and splashed water on his face, breathing heavily to calm himself down. He ran a hand through his hair to get it looking decent and dried his face. He didn't look great, but it was good enough. He left the bathroom and, taking another deep breath, went up the stairs.
Five minutes later he was back down and heading out the door.
