Thanks for the alerts all of you guys requested for the story, I'm glad some people read and liked it. I figured I'd update ASAP, since the intro was pretty lacking.
I'm trying to get a BETA, hang in there with me until I do ;).
Chapter 02 – Week 1
Of course, that would have been the easiest way to move on with life, right? Just pretend like nothing happened? But life isn't easy: everyone knows that.
So when Sam entered the studio and Freddie turned around to see who was walking in, there was an awkward moment of silence. Trying her best to pretend like nothing was off, she proceeded into the room nonchalantly.
"What're you looking at, nub?" Freddie just rolled his eyes but didn't say anything.
"What took you so long, Sam?" Carly asked as she laid out the props they were going to use for the show on the table.
"Eh, I didn't feel very well. I guess I still don't," Sam shrugged her shoulder. Carly just nodded as if she understood… not that she did. Because, honestly, Sam wasn't talking about Freddie, she just didn't feel well.
"What's wrong?" Freddie piped up, actually sounding like he cared. Sam couldn't help but steal a quick glace at his expression and noticed that he had that 'I'm Freddie, the most selfless guy in the world' look on his face, which meant that he was being genuine.
"Just tried… I feel a bit, I don't know, flu-y." She shrugged again, brushing it off. "But it's all good, I feel better now that I'm away from the school. It was probably just the smell of books, teachers, and homework getting to me all at once."
"I'm with you on that!" Gibby agreed loudly as he caught the tail end of the conversation as he entered the studio. He put his backpack on the floor behind the camera and walked to the stage next to Sam and Carly.
"Fancy seeing you here Gibby," Carly greeted with a bow and a goofy voice, smiling. "I guess we can start now since we're all here and ready."
As Freddie started the iCarly countdown Sam and his eyes met for the briefest of moments before she pointedly looked away. His eyes, at least right now, reminded her of different times when they were good, and that stung, as much as she willed it not to.
But in time this was going to work; they could be friends again. They had to be friends. This wouldn't be awkward… Not awkward at all…
The last month had been the worst. Maybe that's even when it started going bad, she wasn't even sure anymore. All she knew was that it had been terrible. Skipping school and lying in bed all day just because some boy was driving her nuts… that wasn't what Sam Puckett did. It just wasn't. And yet she had done it. Whether it was Freddie that was making her tired, or the tiredness making her sick of Freddie she didn't bother to consider because it didn't matter: they were two in the same to Sam's eyes.
He'd make fun of her odd choices in foods just like he had done since before they started going out, but recently it hadn't seemed very funny at all. It was annoying, if nothing else.
If she weren't eating enough, he'd get on her case about it as if he wanted her to eat some of the weird food he had been making fun of just a day before.
Then he'd do this weird eyebrow-crinkle thing, which meant he was worried about her – and he had been doing that so much lately. Sam didn't need anyone to be worried about her! All anyone needed to be worried about was her coming at them for worrying at all. She was independent – he wanted her to depend on him.
And she had just gotten so damn tired of it. And she'd tell him that. He would say he was just looking out for her, and she'd tell him she didn't need him for that. Then he'd be upset that she didn't need him and ask why she wanted a boyfriend in the first place. And Sam really didn't have an answer for it.
So she would avoid him for a day; stay at home and sleep, or lounge around in her pajamas all day, because she didn't have the energy to get up and go to Carly's house. At Carly's she would most likely run into Freddie, and she was just too tried to deal with him.
A week before they had broken up she sucked it up and went to his house, ignoring her screaming conscious telling her that she was too tired to fight, and this would just exhaust her more. And as she sat on the couch with him, cuddling in his arms, watching some dumb movie that didn't have blood or gore (because everyone knew Mrs. Benson didn't allow good movies in her house), Sam remembered why she loved him. Hell, she didn't even have to remember – she just knew. He was nice to hug when she needed a hug, and to use as a pillow when her sofa at home was just too empty and too cold. She knew that kissing him made her mind go blank and forget that she was too tired to fight anymore. That night at his house, she knew that kissing Freddie was definitely worth any fight in the world.
They both must have known it. They must have felt that this spark had come from some long forgotten place that would probably never be found again. So together they grasped it, they indulged themselves in those feelings that they knew were real. Words were spoken: "I love you", "forever", "only one".
But words fade. And sparks die. And the next day, Sam ended it.
He had been so surprised when she said it… like he hadn't seen it coming at all. Sam was just as confused as he was: it was plain as day to her, how could it not have been to him? Hadn't he noticed the rough month they've been having?
She told him after school, at the threshold of his apartment. He had expected her to follow her in. She hadn't. He asked why. She told him.
"What about last night? I thought you said… I love you! Wha-?" Freddie was saying fragments, looking bewildered.
"I do, but I can't do this anymore. I mean, I'm me and you're you. We're too different," Sam's eyes were wide, surprised he couldn't understand, as she tried to explain.
"But that's what makes it-us-great!"
"No, that's what makes us fight. You've been so… I don't know! We're fighting more, haven't you noticed? It's getting old. It's not great, it's bad," Sam said sadly as she looked toward the floor, trying to explain. She didn't mean for him to be so upset, but she knew that this needed to happen.
"Yeah we've been fighting because I'm worried about you! You keep saying things about after school, stressing about college, avoiding me, being all… moody, I guess. I want to help, that's what I'm supposed to do, I'm your boyfriend!" He said it as if she was supposed to understand but she didn't. Because she didn't want him to worry and help! And she told him that.
He didn't understand. He kept asking her what had changed, and she told him she was just tired of fighting.
"I don't need you to worry and help me with anything! That's not what you're 'supposed to do'; you're supposed to be here with me to have fun and help me be less stressed out about everything. Instead, you're making me more tired with our stupid fights and how we can't agree on anything. I'm just so sick of this, Freddie, and I want it to go back to how it was before when we were just friends. Just friends."
"So I've just been a distraction? Us being together was just some fun you were having before real life came around? What about yesterday? Why would you even do that if you weren't serious about us?" And now he was angry. And when he got angry, Sam's reflex was to get angry back.
"Maybe it was just for fun, I don't know! Did you actually think we were going to go on happily ever after when school ended? Ha! As if your Ivy League lifestyle ever honestly had room for me! You knew this was coming so don't throw it all on me! This stupid fight we're having right now even proves my point further!" Sam was pretty sure half of what she said was a lie, but for some reason breaking up with him was the only thing she cared about for this conversation.
"So instead of working it out you're just going to run away? Fine. Just go." Sam closed her eyes, wishing she could just undo this entire conversation and make it go a different way. But she couldn't.
"I want to be friends, Freddie. Like before. Just, I don't know, try to be friends with me," Sam said with a sigh. She was exhausted. She wanted to go home and lie in bed and pass out and forget this even happened. Her shoulders slumped, she didn't even bother to try and look like the tough guy – something she was known for doing. Something she loved doing. But not today, and not right now.
Freddie watched her leave, not saying another word. When the elevator doors slid shut, Sam heard the faint noise of Freddie's front door closing.
I know that was unsatisfying. I wrote it and I'm even frustrated with it (but I liked it, heh). The point is, however, that break-ups are not supposed to be satisfying.