Sorry for updating last week guys. Its that time of school and is absolute torture. Luckily the last day is NEXT TUESDAY! (and then regents -.-)
Anywho, thank you guys who favorited and reviewed. You guys are the best and I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate it!
Just a note about this chapter, I'm too lazy to edit it (figures). So if there are any sort of grammical or puncuation errors, please let me know becuase I know that some people like the nitpick work XD
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Chapter 8-Relearning the Basics
Sam, as much as she loved music, loathed relearning it all. It was a dreadful process in which she hoped to avoid but she somehow couldn't. The more lessons they shared, the more she was exposed.
Freddie on the other hand was oblivious to how much Sam was struggling. It had contributed both to her singing and guitar practice. Then again, Freddie only gave her very basic exercises for each. Yet once he would leave the room as she came up with an excuse to get him a tissue or food, she would give a rather displeasing scale. She would give a groan and bang her head against the wall.
It was a continuing process that in which needed to end soon, which of course happened that late October evening.
It was week before Halloween and Sam of course was getting ready. She had picked out a rather simple costume, scary enough to scare kids, Freddie, and a few elders. Sam was also practicing her regular holiday chow down, in which she would proceed to eat as much candy and other tasty treats as possible. This was a very sacred and annual process but was never fully appreciated by her friends. She figured as much, knowing how goody good Freddie and Carly were. Still, she continued it anyway. That was how Freddie then found her as she knocked on his door.
"Lessons aren't today, Princess," Freddie said, leaning against the frame of the door.
"I know, but that's not why I'm here," Sam replied lightly. Freddie gave a questionable look as she shoved past him and entered his apartment. He rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him as he distantly heard her rummaging his fridge. He met her there, her back to him as she mumbled in distress as she saw what was left. Freddie frowned and took a sip from his Peppy Cola.
Something had been on his mind most recently since the lessons had started become a regular thing. He had started to notice Sam's tenseness whenever he asked her to play the guitar. It was then she would ask for food or get a band aid rather hurriedly. It always appeared to be an excuse but Freddie never really asked.
He watched her bent figure. Sam was hardly ever one to be courteous enough to ask for any help. Then again, Sam hardly had any problems, besides school which she hardly put any effort to. He wished she could just tell him what's wrong. She could trust him, especially now.
"You got no food, Fredly," Sam said after a couple minutes.
"Well I'm sorry that my mom isn't a butcher," Freddie sneered after taking a sip from the Peppy Cola.
"No, it's not that," Sam said, turning to him. "You have no candy. Your mom sucks that she doesn't buy any, especially since Halloween is like tomorrow."
"Next week you mean."
"Like it freaking matters!"
Freddie raised his brows in surprised and went for another sip, only to find his beverage in her hands. She gave him a daring look as she took a long slurp. Freddie could never compete with her on this but he could get a challenge of his own.
"Lessons are going pretty well, don't you think?" he asked nonchalantly.
Sam's expression dropped and gave him an unimpressed look. "Is this your idea of small talk?"
"I was just asking," Freddie defended. Sam saw his honestly, considering it for a moment, and decided to give in.
"They're okay, I guess," she admitted, her eyes watching her fingers pick the label of the can. Something about her reply gave Freddie the impression she wanted to drop the topic yet he couldn't. He only pressed on.
"Boring?" he asked, an uncontrollable smirk etching across his face.
"Well duh, everything that involves you is always boring," Sam retorted. Freddie ignored her insult.
"I guess then I'll just bump up your exercises," Freddie replied, shrugging a bit and avoiding eye contact. He could practically feel her tense up.
"Music isn't like a gym," Sam grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in her spot.
Freddie smiled cheerily. "Of course it's not. But like you said, the lessons were getting boring."
Freddie then took Sam's wrist and pulled her into his bedroom, She dragged her feet along and her wrist tightened when his guitar was in clear view. Freddie knew he was nervous yet he had no idea how painful it was for her to hold it in. She didn't want to show her unfamiliarity to the guitar to make herself feel weak. Yet, Sam could only give silent protests in hoping Freddie wouldn't notice her desperateness.
He led her to his bed and Freddie went to his desk, picking up his guitar, and tuning it. Sam's palms grew sweaty. She could always make up an excuse but this time was different. It was as if he had a sense of what she was up to. Was this even possible? Freddie Benson making Sam Puckett nervous? When had this been established?
"Alright, singing practice?" he asked. Sam nodded quickly as Freddie gave the starting the staring Do.
"Maria, oh oh oh oh oh," he sang very lightly. Sam snickered but Freddie stopped her.
"Do Fah Fi Sol….Sol Me Fah Re Do," he gave on solfege. Sam nodded and hummed in response. A moment later, she sung. He brought her up the scale, her pitch tightening the higher they went yet it never went off tune. He subtly smiled at the expression that had been plastered in focus and determination. Her eyes were closed as the guitar and voice drowned her.
After reaching the high octave, he brought her down into her lower register. This time her voice was rich and dark. It was like warm caramel or the thick mixing of chocolate. He loved how she had such a range in her voice yet this in particular was his favorite. It gave him a chill.
"Nice," he complimented. She shrugged half heartedly and leaned back on the edge of his bed.
"Yet, you need to tune your pitch a bit when you go up. Try not to pull wide," he told her. Sam glared at him at this.
"You're not my teacher," she snapped.
"No but I am your friend. Right?" This was a stupid question to ask because he already knew the answer. Sam would always think of him as nothing more than a co-worker. Even if they shared a common interest, she would still give him no respect.
"Anyway," he said, un-strapping his guitar and handing it her, "time for you to show me your skills."
Sam froze. "Can't."
"Why?"
"My fingers are sore," she mumbled, rubbing them together as she stared down at them. Freddie would've let Sam off the hook but not this time. He had gotten her this far and he wasn't going to back down so soon.
"Come on, give me a scale," he pressed. Sam glanced up at him for a moment and they met eye contact. Sam saw the sincerity in his eyes and she could help but feel a chill run down her back. Freddie would never force Sam to do anything too harsh. He was too nice, a terrible characteristic that she adored deeply. She sighed and reluctantly gave in. Sam played a few chords.
Freddie saw Sam for the first time struggle. Her fingers were misplaced and slipping a bit as the chords were being played off tune. He saw her unsureness as she played a few more unstably, cringing at a few. He leant back in his seat, watching as an expression of sheer disappointment washed over her. This was new. She hardly ever had a sadden expression when it came to music, unless the song was meant that way but this was different. This appeared to be a bit personal.
Freddie leaned forward as Sam stopped playing and lowered her head. "You okay?"
Sam glared up at him with glassy eyes. Yep. She was really shaken up about something. The question was what.
"No, I'm not," she snarled lowly. Freddie swallowed hard as Sam caught herself from saying anymore. This was complete torture for her and for the first time, he felt terrible that he had done that. He should've stopped but he couldn't. Everything needed to be let out.
"Well, it wasn't too terrible," Freddie reassured.
"Bull," Sam grumbled. She let the guitar fall on his floor and she fell back on his bed, suppressing an overtiring sigh. Freddie bent to pick it up and laid it beside him. He then gave a rather kind gaze.
"Haven't played in a while?" he asked quietly. The situation was about to become and out of complete respect, he spoke in this manner in hoping Sam would relax. She did.
"Never," she said. Freddie knew this already but he couldn't help but ask why.
"Family jank, the usual," Sam muttered, as if she had read his mind. Freddie nodded in response.
"Seems to be that way unless…."
Sam stiffened.
"…it has something to do with your father."
At this, Sam shot up and went to the door. Though, all too kindly, Freddie grabbed her wrist before she exited. She growled at the action.
"Lessons aren't over yet," Freddie stated firmly, his grip tightening as she made yet another attempt to leave.
Sam scowled. "This isn't a lesson. This is a nubbish interrogation that has gone too far!"
Freddie smirked at this. "A bit personal?"
That was when whipped around at him and shoved him out of his chair, causing him to grunt abruptly. Freddie's hand went to his back as he lifted his back from his ground. Still, from he was at, he couldn't see Sam's flushed face.
"Did you enjoy that? Good. Cuz that's how I feel!"
Freddie was taken aback by this outburst. It was such an interesting analogy that he hadn't even realized that this terrible pain in his back was theoretically what he had done to her and for the part, it hurt. Freddie never intentionally meant to go that far but for Sam, physically somehow needed to get involved when it came to opening her up.
He wondered for a moment if Sam had left which he wish she hadn't. Sam did act like a child occasionally but backing out at a moment like this was always questionable. Her emotions and actions were always picked at random. He frowned for a moment and tried to get up but was stopped when a hand was reached out to him. Freddie furrowed his brows and took it unknowingly, only to come face to face with Sam. She sulked at him and smiled very subtly in a very apologetic manner.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
Freddie shrugged. "It's cool."
Sam groaned at this and dropped his hand. "No, it's not cool. I just hate when my dad would get brought up in situations like this. I'm just so use to him getting dissed on that my first reaction is to beat to fudge out of whomever."
Freddie watched as she returned to his bed and sat on its edge. "So, I was the fudge victim?"
Sam shrugged. "Basically."
She gave a short laugh but stopped short as she thought back on what she did earlier. Freddie immediately noticed and sat beside her.
"So, you're dad wasn't really…well appreciated?" he asked slowly as he chose he words carefully.
"You could say that," she replied, glancing at him. "He taught me to sing and he was my guitarist. My mom didn't like and she really took it upon herself to shut music out of my life when he died."
Freddie could tell she didn't tell the story much as she would swallow thickly in between words. Yet he couldn't help but appreciate her courage to open up the past. He thought through the details and noticed almost immediately a few this: Her father had died, not some sort of divorce, she lived a different life before his death, and he and her father were both very much in common, perhaps signifying some bond that she had shared with her father and that Freddie could now repeat the same.
"And he told me a couple days before he died to practice playing the guitar and of course I didn't," Sam continued, half chuckling to herself and frowned at memory.
"So…why didn't you?"
"I don't know! I just assumed that he would keep playing for me! I didn't know he was gonna die that soon!" Sam exclaimed, her voice suddenly lowering a bit as she finished. She turned away from him, knowing all too well he was staring at her with such sincerity. This is what she hated most about him. Whenever Sam was revealed as a weak girl, Freddie would always be there to see it all. Though, Sam didn't hate it because it was incredibly dorky; she hated loving it.
"Well, you know I could always teach you how to play," he said, preparing himself for a smack on a head that never came. Sam snorted.
"Oh please. Just because I have my issues with my dad doesn't mean you have to flip a freaking sappy chiz." She had her walls up again, much to Freddie's dismay yet all the more while, he stood and went for his guitar. Sam tensed.
"I said no, Fredwuss."
Freddie flashed a smile at her and bent down.
"No, Benson."
He picked up the guitar.
"Dishrag! Are you deaf?"
Freddie held his smile as he stepped to her. Sam's threats meant nothing to him anymore. He could read the growing fear in his expression as her bursts of anger had settled. He sat next to her and felt his friendly smile stretch into a sly smirk. Sam's eyes dulled unenthusiastically.
"Here," he said, handing over his guitar. Sam flashed a agonizing glare at the gesture but took the instrument anyway. She laid a hand on the guitar's neck, finger's being poorly positioned on the fretboard. She then moved her other hand by the bridge and sound hole. Freddie handed her a guitar in which she snatched it unkindly and gave a shaky breath.
She played a few notes, a majority being off pitch and even a few causing Freddie to cringe. Sam noted this and gave him a hard punch in the arm (which proceeded him to fall off his bed and give an 'oof!' in response).
"This is hopeless!" Sam groaned. "I'd throw it out the window if it wasn't such an amazingly crafted instrument."
"Well, that's good," Freddie replied sarcastically, his voice muffled by the state of his positioning. He crawled back up on his bed, his hair a wild mess and small scratch on his cheek. Where he got it from, Sam would never truly know.
"Well, first of all, the positioning is all wrong," Freddie began a bit out of breath. Sam had to roll her eyes at this one but she still listened to his advice.
"I'm well aware of that, Fredward. It's just knowing how to hell I should do it!" Sam complained. It was then for a split second she lifted the guitar and was about to throw it across the room and out his window. Freddie's eyes widened at the gesture.
"No! No! No!" he stopped her, hands over hers and bringing the guitar back to her lap. She glowered at him but Freddie held his ground. Shoot.
He gazed calmly in her eyes. "Just listen to me."
"No, don't tell; show me!" Sam demanded. Freddie rolled his eyes yet complied.
He took her hands that he had been holding and positioned them. One hand went to neck and he took each finger and placed it in a certain position. They were much more spread than before. Sam raised her brows surprisingly and followed his hand that brought her other hand to the guitar's body. Sam's thoughts during this all were mixed. A majority of time were thoughts on how much she hated him, the lessons, his room, his bed, his clothes, his hair, and of course the large Carly poster in the inside of his closet door. Yet, as much as she denied it, she couldn't get over how soft and warm his hands were. She groaned internally at this.
"There. Now all you need is your guitar pick," Freddie said, taking the pick and placing gently in her hand. "Okay, give it a try."
Sam gave a short nod in return and very lightly strung the guitar. It gave an on tune ring that caused an irresistible smile to come upon Sam's face. Yet she quickly hid it when Freddie glanced at her though little did she know he saw that smile.
"Cool, right?" Freddie said in a grin. Sam shrugged and moved her fingers along the neck and gave a few more notes. The changes were subtle though Sam still couldn't get over the fact that she was playing guitar, a skill only she dreamt of accomplishing. It was then Sam decided to test something.
She specially remembered the positioning and Freddie had done and she copied. The unknown song was stuck in her head enough times for her to remember how it went. It was a long shot to try to replay but she couldn't help it; the memories were engraved in her mind.
Sam played the song very slowly. She needed time to readjust the positioning and making sure it was right, which surprisingly was the majority of the time. She hummed just as her father had done and soon Sam felt herself reliving her past.
"…And if it looks like we were scared to death, like a couple of kids just trying to save each other…"
Sam stopped abruptly at the soft singing of her friend. She gave a shaky swallow and meant his intense calm expression, eyes glistening into her own. Why did this keep happening? Sam knew her place and Freddie had his. Why was their barrier breaking?
"…You should've seen it in color."
Until next Tuesday...
