I'd like to get the next chapter done by the end of the weekend, but that's only if I have time…
This is Freddie's chapter; I hope I've done him justice.
I forgot last time. I don't own iCarly.
He had always been one for romance. He couldn't help it; it was how his mother had raised him. He believed that love always prevailed, and everyone went Home with a happily ever after.
At least, he used to.
That was before her, before she walked away, before he let her.
In the beginning, when he realized what a mistake they made, he tried. He went to her apartment when she wouldn't answer his phone calls. He waited outside her door for days. After a week, when she still wouldn't answer, he gave up on that. But he didn't stop calling and texting. He wanted her back; couldn't she just let him talk to her? Pretty soon, he gave up on that too. She wasn't going to talk to him.
He moved out to the east coast, finding an apartment in Connecticut. Every year, for the next eight years he'd call her on what he still thought of as their anniversary.
But she never answered.
He had almost given up completely. Even thought about not calling. She had apparently forgotten him, or at least buried the memories deep enough.
Then she called him.
Her number had always stayed in his phone, not that it mattered. He had it memorized.
"H-hello?" he answered, voice catching. Why was she calling? Was she calling? Or was it just a coincidence, a joke the universe was playing on him. Maybe she had gotten rid of her phone, changed her number.
She said nothing.
"S-Sam? Is that you?" he didn't know what he was hoping for. Part of him wanted it to be her, so maybe everything could be ok. Maybe it was his second chance. The other part was afraid that he would be hurt again. Without her in his life, he was safe. Incomplete, but safe.
"Hello?" he needed to know. The wondering hurt worse than anything he could imagine. To think that she might be so close, listening to him, but saying nothing, a smirk on her face. That's probably what this was. A stupid joke she was making, toying with his feelings, like she had always done. Yes, this was definitely her.
The thought made him angry. He let it seep into his voice "I know you're there. You might as well talk to me."
Still nothing. What the hell was this? Why wouldn't she speak? Was this just so damn funny to her that she couldn't speak?
"Sam." His voice was sharper than he intended. He felt bad for a half second, before the anger reminded him. He was the butt of her joke, again. She deserves an edge.
"I miss you." the words, full of tears and pain, threw cold water on him. This… this wasn't what he thought. He thought she might be drunk, but…why?
"Sam?" he could hear the heartbreak in his own voice, thought maybe a drink was a good idea.
"What did we do?" she was speaking (sobbing) more to herself, he knew, but he answered anyway.
"Screwed up." he'd been wanting to tell her that for a long time.
She sobbed louder for a second, then there was a bang. Whatthehell? It was all one word in his brain.
"Sam!" he shouted. What happened? What did she do? "Are you ok?" he screamed it louder; he didn't care about his upstairs neighbor's issue with noise.
He didn't hear anything. He kept shouting to her, but he knew it was no use. He tapped speakerphone-just in case- and threw his phone on the couch.
He didn't bother with proper packing; just threw a couple pairs of jeans, boxers, and a few t-shirts, one of which was her favorite (Purple-Jerk), into an old drawstring backpack. He threw the bag on the couch, grabbing his phone at the same time. Back to the home-screen. He was going to find her, maybe get her back, as long as that bang …he didn't let himself think it.
He fell into his computer chair, knowing exactly how to find her. The Pear site loaded much too slowly in his mind, although it was only a second. He typed in Sam's number, typed what he thought was her password.
Denied.
His mind filed through options, ideas, anything. On a slightly egotistical whim, he typed his own name.
Granted.
As he clicked through to 'locate', his leg shook impatiently. Every second longer this took, God only knew what was happening.
San Francisco, California? If he wasn't so tense, he might have laughed.
Quickly, he Zaplooked the next possible flight to California. He took note of the airport, grabbed his phone and bag, and left, not bothering to lock his door. He wasn't leaving anything important behind.
He spent the next 8 hours almost in a panic. He called Sam at least a dozen times, not even expecting an answer. He called Carly, hoping maybe she had heard from her best friend.
"Not recently. Why?" but he hung up.
He bought his ticket at the last minute, earning a disapproving look from the woman at the counter. He had one carry on, his bag, and no luggage.
When he landed, he wasn't even out of the airport before using his phone to go online and find exactly where she was. He grabbed a taxi that charged way too much and fed the driver her address.
The building was not what he expected, lofty, expensive. He knew there was no way she could afford it; she'd never been exactly great with money.
He asked the doorman for her apartment, found himself in an elevator to the eighth floor, a severe case of déjà vu spinning his mind.
He knocked on the door to 8D, scared when there was no immediate answer. He rang the doorbell, a prayer starting to form on his lips.
"Knock it off." a voice inside growled. "I've got a hangover from hell." the door opened, and she just stood there, more beautiful than he had ever seen her.
"Hey, Sam."