Title: The Things iCarry
Summary: "We all carry these things inside us that no one else can see. They hold us down like anchors, they drown us out at sea."
Disclaimer: I don't own NUFFIN.
Author's note: Posting this today because I'll be in Canada all weekend.
Oh my gosh, I just realised I've had three reviews on here! Why isn't sending me emails! I'm so sorry I haven't replied, I really am!
But anyway, I was inspired a little bit by Dan's comment on groovysmoothies…
"Do you really think each one thinks the other feels hatred? Or do you think maaaaybe this is just a game they've played since the end of 6th grade… and they keep playing it… because each is afraid to stop playing it?"
I actually wanted to keep ships out of it altogether to prevent any type of… I don't know, discrimination? I want ALL people to want to read this, not just seddie fans or creddie fans. It was really hard, though, because I didn't want every chapter to be "daddy issues." So, here's Freddie's one-sided Seddie chapter. Enjoy.
Freddie Benson carries in the back pocket of his jeans, a crumpled up, folded half sheet of paper with "YOU'RE A LOSER" written in black sharpie and Sam's messy handwriting. He never really intentionally carries it everywhere, but usually just pulls it out of his pants pockets before he does laundry, reads it, laughs at it, and then shoves it into his back pocket, ad infinitum. It was useless to everyone else, but had such a deeper meaning within his own mind.
Freddie Benson and Sam Puckett were playing a game- it had no name and the rules were undefined but it went something like this:
1.) Never, EVER talk about it
2.) Have fun
3.) Share secrets
4.) Cry on each others' shoulders
5.) Steal glances at one another
6.) Every once in a while, give subtle kisses that no one sees
7.) Pretend to hate each other
The only way to lose this game was to fall in love. Yes, who ever falls in love first, wins. And though he would never, ever admit it to her, he lost a long time ago.
He often felt it was all in his head. It was all false hope, their entire friendship; their kiss didn't even happen. He was thinking too much of prolonged eye contact, the sparks when her hand brushed his was a figment of his imagination. His mind twisted her words around to mean more than they actually do. She was utterly fascinating, and he was too awkward and too nerdy for her and they might as well not even be friends because they would never be together.
And she hated him.
He hated her, too. He was in love with a girl he hated. She insulted him. She physically assaulted him. She criticised him. She was a professional liar, but was brutally honest, and swore at anyone who couldn't take it. She was evil and messy and bitter and irritating and a heavy sleeper and never texted back.
But he didn't hate her, he never did. He held onto this hate so stubbornly, knowing once he let go of it he would have to deal with what was now reality, unrequited love. He loved her. But he didn't like her.
What came with this love wasn't pain, but fear. He was scared all of the sudden and he didn't know what he was scared of. He was scared to quit playing this game simply because they had been playing it for so long… He was scared that he would give her his all and she would laugh and throw it away because she didn't feel the same way.
He hated her, but it was only for show. He does not hate her and did not hate her and never hated her. Sure, sometimes, when it came to Sam Puckett, he got hurt and angry and confused by her, but hate never came into it.
It's funny, he thought, how the mind associates one thing with another. Like how he thought of her skin when he smelled strawberries. How he subtly laughed to himself when he was reminded of their inside jokes; he thought of her when he saw caramel candies or spray paint or big mud puddles or circuses or spiders or broken wrists.
She broke her wrist the day he fell in love with her.
It was a nice day, near the end of their junior year in high school, and clearly, no one wanted to be in class.
She passed a note to him in the seat in front of her, not bothering to fold it up.
"Lets ditch math" It said. He passed his own note back, "No, you're failing."
"YOU'RE A LOSER" was thrown onto his desk quickly. He smiled to himself, hoping no one noticed, folded it up and put it in his back pocket, which was an untold submission.
They met at his car when the class was over, started driving with no real sense of direction.
"Pull over!" Sam suddenly broke the comfortable silence that surrounded them.
"What!" he yelled back, startled.
"I wanna climb that tree over there." she sounded excited.
He groaned, knowing this wouldn't turn out well, "Sammm…."
But he pulled over anyway, knowing that if he didn't oblige, he'd eventually end up pulling over anyway, but with a bruise on his arm.
"Just so you know, I don't approve of this. You're gonna get hurt, Sam." He said as she made her way up, now knowing better than to panic or tell her what to do because she wouldn't listen.
As she was murmuring under her breath about how much fun he wasn't, she suddenly rolled off a branch and fell to the ground with a loud scream.
He groaned again, rushing over to her "Awwww, Saammmm!"
She rolled around and sat up, looking at her bleeding hands.
"Well, that hurt."
"Hurt? You almost busted your ass." He said, pulling his mini first aid kit out of his backpack, for once thankful he had a mother that forced him to carry one.
She stayed calm as he cleaned the scrape on her right hand, but winced as he took her left hand in his.
"Sam, I think your wrist is broken." He said after carefully investigating it, trying his best not to hurt her even more.
"Well, fix it!" she said, with panic in her voice. He helped her stand up and made sure she made it to the car, thinking she was surprisingly calm for being a dramatic girl with a possibly broken wrist.
"Jesus, Benson, drive more carefully." she muttered from the backseat, smoking a cigarette, knowing he hated it. He looked in the rearview mirror and his warm chocolate eyes met with her glossy blue ones; she stuck her tongue out at him. He smiled and shook his head.
He waited outside the emergency room as they fixed her up, and soon she came out of the hospital room with a bright red cast on her wrist.
"Alright, Benson, say it." She said, rolling her eyes and walking towards him.
"Say what?"
"I told you so." She replied in her signature mocking voice.
"You know I'm not big on rubbing it in."
"Yeah, you are!" she said matter-of-factly.
"Let's just go." He said, smiling back at her.
"Are you tilting? I think you're tilting. That cast probably weighs more than your whole arm. He said as they walked to his car.
"I'm not tilting." She snapped back.
"Here, hold my backpack on your other side."
"Hold your own damn backpack."
"Glad to see the fall didn't mess with your bitterness glands."
"Shut up."
Before he dropped her off in front of her house, Sam looked around to see if any was around, then gave him a small kiss on the cheek.
"You shoulda talked me out of ditching math, you dunce." And with that, she left his car with a smile on her face. He understood that was his "thank you."
He knows she doesn't care and he never told her, but that's the moment he fell in love with her.
Sam Puckett had such a hold on Freddie Benson.
She was an enourmously stubborn pain in the ass, and he loved her.
And he felt like such a loser.
Not gonna lie, I do love this chapter. I think it's insanely adorable and realistic and in character.
I've always seen Seddie as being kind of one sided. Freddie was smiling his face off after they kissed and Sam just looked awkward. But it's obviously not tearing him apart too much, ya know?
I do really like writing these because of the personalization, might be the word I'm looking for? I don't know, I'm doing really badly at word choice today, but it's the concept of like… ranch dressing and croutons reminds me of this one night in seventh grade with my best friend. Watermelon bubble gum takes me back to last year with my boyfriend. How a smell or an object can make you think of a certain person, it's what makes this fic special, and I like that.
Anyway, r&r! please!