Serendipity (Book 1)

The Little Hill In The Distance by winteredspark

FanFiction.net

The Little Hill In The Distance by winteredspark

TV » iCarly
Rated: T
Language: English
Genre: Angst & Friendship
Characters: Sam P., Freddie B.
Words: 1,433
Published: Apr 9, 2011

***

There are the moments where it becomes too much to handle. There are moments where the truth of all sinks in and renders them speechless.

These are the moments they find each other on the fire escape overlooking Seattle.

...

He's sitting on his bed as the clock chimes 7 pm; he's recorded a little message that plays to him at this exact hour.

"Fredward, it's 7 o' clock," says the clock on his nightstand. "Time to dive into Advanced Physics."

Normally he's a good, good boy. (He shrugs on a jacket because although flowers are blooming and birds are tweeting the wind hisses like the snow has arrived months early.)

"Fredward, it's 7 o' clock," says the clock again. Always a reminder. "Time to dive into Advanced Physics."

Normally he wouldn't dare do something like this. (He packs two bottles of ice tea - because it reminds them of iCarly, reminds them of apples and chocolate pudding flying towards a face - and slides in a ice pack for good measure before zipping it up.)

"Fredward, it's -" The machine cuts off as he slams his fist on the snooze button; he immediately feels guilty for manhandling technology and runs a loving hand over the alarm clock.

Normally it's much easier to breathe. (He runs trembling fingers over the window and slides it open, grumbling to himself at the gust of cold air that hits his face; he'll develop a cold.)

Black tennis shoes scuff the edge of the window pane and Fredward Benson disappears into the night.

...

She's sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor of the Shay's apartment as the watch on her wrist beeps 7pm; she doesn't have a stupid recorded message like the nub does and that's fine with her.

Silence: stretching on and on until her fingers twitch and her breath hitches and just can't take it anymore.

"Sam?"

He's standing in the shadows of the hallway with his messy brown hair and his t-shirt stained with paint.

"The one and only." She smirks and fingers close around the front door.

Silence stretches on, heart clenches, the beat in her head accelerates dangerously and she's gone like Peter Pan's shadow.

(She doesn't bother to raid the fridge because she knows the nub always packs something; it's practically tradition.)

...

"Hey."

"Hey."

Feet shuffle and they seat themselves - him in the chair because he's always been obsessed with safety, and her on the brick wall with her feet dangling over empty space.

Sam holds out a hand. "I assume you brought -" she begins, but he's already handed her a bottle of ice tea. She doesn't say 'thank you,' but he's not expecting it.

More silence, the worst kind yet: awkward silence.

Her eyes, beady and bright, glance towards the furthest place she can see before squinting. "Do you remember when that hill used to be round and luscious?"