Serendipity (Book 2)

No Right by you can call me red

FanFiction.net

No Right by you may call me red

TV » iCarly
Rated: T
Language: English
Genre: Angst
Characters: Sam P., Freddie B.
Words: 1,654
Published: Oct 7, 2012

***

It was almost exactly six months after the night in the elevator that Sam Puckett realised she may never get over Freddie Benson. The night was cool, as Seattle nights often were, but she wasn't wearing a jacket. Or shoes, for that matter. She was known to be impervious to the cold. It was like she wasn't human in that way.

Sam stood in the middle of the empty lobby of Bushwell. She simply stood there as Lewbert howled unintelligible obscenities at her. With a dark glare threatening enough to shut even him up, she stared at the elevator.

'I love you'... 'I love you, too'...

The words haunted her. What kind of silly people kiss, date, break up and then admit that they love one another. Oh, Sam thought bitterly. Us.

The elevator was haunting her just as much as what they'd said there. Neither Carly nor Freddie knew this, but Sam hadn't been able to step foot in any elevator, let alone that one, since they broke up. Every time she went up to apartment 8C, which was something she did frequently, she took the stairs.

Too tired to walk eight floors, she let a tingle tear slide down her cheek as she turned on her heel and walked out the door. Halfway down the street, she could still hear Lewbert screaming. What if I'm like that one day? she wondered, sadness washing over her. Old, alone, cranky, and hating the world. Well, Sam already hated the majority of the world. But not him. Not Freddie.

It was funny. She should hate him, right? And she tried so, so hard. But, for the first time in her life, Sam didn't get what she wanted. She hated it, but she couldn't hate him. It was impossible. She even hated herself for not hating him. It should be easy. After they'd called it quits and he'd told her he loved her, things went back to normal. They were mean to one another, called each other names, and their relationship was never mentioned.

It seemed very much as though that one, perfect month where Sam had been the happiest she'd ever been in her life had never existed. Which was kind of annoying. Sam wouldn't tell anyone, but the silence hurt her. They were back at square one- hating each other. Except Sam didn't hate Freddie, but apparently he hated her.

As if nothing had ever happened, as if nothing could be wrong, as if the demon otherwise known as Sam truly felt nothing for anyone or anything, he'd fallen right back in love with Carly. That was worse than the silence. She could handle him ignoring everything that had ever happened between them, but going right back to her best friend? That was different. Especially since Sam hadn't even looked at a guy, not really, and actually been interested in him. Not even Zayn Malik. He'd just been a distraction, which he completely failed at being because all Sam could thing was that Freddie wasn't even jealous. Was it pathetic that the one and only time she had been able to step back in the elevator was a lame attempt at making him jealous?

Then she decided she shouldn't be trying to make him jealous, because he was so clearly in love with Carly, and all she'd accomplish would be causing herself pain.

The thing that caused her current state of self-loathing was that Sam couldn't even be mad at Freddie. He had a right to happiness, even if it took away hers. God knows he deserved to be happy. More so than she did, anyway. In most ways he was the opposite of her. He was kind, and good, and fair and he was right. But, no matter how hard it was to admit, he wasn't right for her. He was right for Carly.

The deepest, darkest part of Sam wanted to hate Carly. Almost as much as she wanted to hate Freddie. And it was utterly ridiculous because Carly hadn't done anything wrong. It was Freddie who was in love with her, not the other way around. But Sam knew Carly better than she knew herself and could tell by the look in her eyes that though she didn't love him now, she would love him one day. That made little bits and pieces inside of Sam, the few bits and pieces she actually liked, wither away and die. For good. Because when that one day would come, she wouldn't be able to face either of them. The two people who'd known those parts of Sam would no longer be a part of her life, so what was the point of stupid pieces of her nobody would ever see again being there?

A nasty voice in the back of her head told her it was to be expected that, in the end, Freddie would choose Carly over her. It was a law of the universe that Carly was better. She was nicer, smarter and prettier than Sam could ever hope to be. All she had going for her was her sense of humour which, in her opinion was far superior to Carly's. But apparently everybody else preferred a shy-ish, girly laugh with someone who was shy-ish and girly themself. Everyone chose Carly. Teachers, friends, boys, random people who visit their website. Even Sam's own twin sister liked Carly more. But the thing was, the thing that made this so much harder than it should be, was that Freddie had chosen Sam.

Once upon a time, at least. Sure, he'd crushed crazily on Carly for years. But then, somewhere along the way, he'd picked Sam up from the ground, carried her off into the sunset and chosen her. But then he'd decided it was Carly all along. And so he'd told Sam 'goodbye,' turned around and left, back to his perfect Carly. Just as quickly as Sam had found the light, she'd lost it, and everything went dark.

Sam wanted to blame Freddie for doing this to her, but it just wouldn't be right if she did. It wasn't really his fault she'd fallen in love with him, and the hope that he loved her, too, was her own fault for believing. Him going back to the better girl was nobody's fault, really. And if Sam was unable to blame him, certainly no one else could.

Because Carly was perfect. Because she was well and truly as perfect as they come, and Sam had absolutely no right to resent her for the fact simply because she was jealous. Carly was perfect, and as much pain as it caused Sam, she was perfect for Freddie. So she had no right.

She still loved him. Sometimes she thought she always would. Most times, however, she knew she always would, whether she had the right or not. Sometimes she thought it was because he'd moved straight back to Carly that she couldn't get over him. Then that thought was quickly discarded because she knew that him being him was the only reason she would never get over him. She was captivated by every little thing he did, loved every little quirk that made him Fredward Benson.

On occasion she wished she didn't know these quirks so well. If she didn't, she thought that maybe they wouldn't hold her his prisoner. But she knew that wasn't true, because every time she saw his face or heard his voice or even smelled his faint peppermint smell, her insides melted as her heart swelled up inside her chest.

She had no right. She loved him then, she loved him now, and would love him forever, but knew she had no right. He, however, had the right to love whomever he like, even if it killed Sam, because she didn't deserve him. She'd never deserved him, while he'd always deserved so much more. He'd always deserved someone as perfect and right as Carly without having to worry about Sam.

That night, six months after the elevator, Sam turned around and walked right back to the building. She didn't care that she was too exhausted for the elevator. She didn't care Lewbert was a psychopath. She didn't care that someone might find her. She didn't care that it would hurt. She didn't care that it was stupid. She didn't care that it was horribly sentimental. She didn't care that Sam Puckett was not a sentimental sort of person. But, just for that night, she was.

The fire escape was even colder than it had been outside and, for the first time in a long time, she was cold. It could have been the icy feeling in the pit of her stomach, or that she knew she'd never really be warm and happy again. Sam didn't think about it. Instead, she sat there, being sentimental. She thought about the night when they were fourteen, when she'd apologised for the first time in her life. She thought about the kiss they'd shared and how even back then she had felt something for him.

Sam thought, for just a fraction of a second, that maybe the reason she would never get over him was because he would never get over her. But she let that thought drift away with the wind, just as she'd let him ride away in an elevator, because she had no right.

***
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