iWould Rather Stay-

All it takes is two months of being a couple and suddenly you find yourself on the couch in his apartment, disinfecting your hands before you reach for the popcorn on the end table because of one of his mother's inane rules.

You wonder when Love took on such an unromantic connotation.

You try and think back to when this all became so mundane, so boring, so routine. You can't help but interject yourself here. You never were much for routine. Somewhere in the back of your head you keep thinking that this is all your fault, because he clearly knew what he was getting into.

It just makes you hate him more.

So you ditch movie night, go home, and you decide to avoid him.

It's because you're into confrontation; because you don't actually want to hurt him; because you know there's some other emotion swimming around here that you don't care to discover.

Of course, socially inept tech nerd that he is, he picks up on this right away. Catches you in the hallway at school. Asks you what's wrong. Looks at you with those russet eyes that you're torn between drowning in and turning away from.

You choose the latter as you casually throw a 'nothing' over your shoulder.

You get nothing in return.

And somehow you go from being boyfriend and girlfriend to not talking to fooling around behind his back while you know he's sitting at the Shay's apartment contemplating what he did wrong.

The sincerity, the gentle way he pushed your hair back, that look in his eyes like you're more than you know you are.

Everything. He did absolutely everything wrong.

Rehearsal becomes foreign to you. Carly tries to pretend like everything is normal but you know she's disappointed in you. She takes his side. You do too. Then she catches you a few days after things get weird; makes you stay after as you watch him longingly glance at you before packing up his camera gear and trudging towards the door.

"Why?"

You want nothing more than to answer her. This is the same question that you have been asking yourself repeatedly for the past few days. But because you haven't the slightest idea, rather than answer her, you just look down.

"Think about what you're doing, Sam."

You take this as your excusal and you leave, feeling her eyes on your back as you retreat in shame.

What are you doing?

A week later you're mom has a new boyfriend. He has a son.

So you're under someone else like you've never been under Him before, because you've never been under Him before. It feels so wrong. Who is this? And you don't understand these arms pining you down. You don't understand the pressure on your abdomen. You just don't get it and you're numb and you're done and whoever is on top isn't but it doesn't matter because you checked out ages ago.

And after the first time, it's not so hard to deaden yourself through each rotation. It's all blonde haired, blue-eyed gods on display because you refuse to touch anything brunette anymore. You wonder, casually, if you've still got his title now, 3 weeks of silence and avoidance later.

You refuse to belong to anybody, but you secretly hope you're still his, even if he was never yours.

Deep down you know you're unfair and hypocritical and unpredictable and you drive yourself insane. If you could, you'd be with him now. You know it would be easy. And it wouldn't be hard to ask him to wait either, which you consider doing too, but you don't.

You're not that cruel.

Physical abuse and emotional abuse are two completely different realms. You would know.

At some point it changes. Things aren't awkward anymore. They turn bitter as you both let the unspoken bridge burn and the chasm widen between you. You find yourself back to square one, except that you don't tease him anymore and you assume he wouldn't fight back even if you did.

You no longer exist to him beyond a body on film. Fade back into sidekick #1.

You attempt, sparingly, to strike up conversations, sort of miss his dork speech. Hey. His face hardens towards you. Curt one-word responses if you're lucky. Blank stares laced with regret if you're not.

And then, somewhere along the way, he moves on.

She's cute, he brings her to rehearsal and she's all lip-glossed smiles and giggles and blonde hair, straight, like a real girlfriend type girl. They're holding hands and she doesn't seem to mind like you did. Like you do. And you're angry and Carly looks at you knowingly and you just want to vomit and punch the poor girls lights out.

Who the fuck decided not to let you know?

You go home, eat the fridge, and lay on the tiled floor wishing you could rip you're heart out if that's what's making you feel so damn empty inside. Then you call up somebody, anybody, desperate for some informal type of revenge or justification.

You're not sure; maybe you just want to fuck.

But halfway to taking off you're jeans you're sick of this shit and you're moving too quick for him to catch your wrists and then you're off the bed putting your shirt back on calling back to say that he can stay if he wants. You're mom will be home soon enough anyways.

You run the whole way there.

I'm sorry.

It's what you should say, but it's not what you do say.

"What the Hell Freddie?"

And he looks at you bewildered from his doorway like he doesn't know who you are, and for a moment you worry maybe he truly has forgotten. But then his eyes turn angry and before you can understand what is happening he is fast encroaching upon your space, backing you across the hallway and into the wall as he screams at you with phrases about cheating and lying, and confusion, and, wow, did he just call you a manipulative cunt?

That was low.

"You can't fucking expect me to just take that shit, holy fucking- Sam- I-"

And your name on his lips has you catapulting forward like positive and negative magnets and you're so caught up you don't even realize you're thinking about science concepts. Better yet, somehow he beats you to it and his lips are on yours and you're head bangs against the plaster and it's the most rewarding explosion of a headache ever. And his warm hands are under your shirt before you even feel them and your own fingers tangle into his brown hair. You never really liked blondes. And then you're on the floor in the hallway and you don't care and you're ripping off his shirt and he has a girlfriend and you're in public and you had this boy and you don't know why you don't now and you're not numb anymore and every emotion ever has you choking and you're crying and crying and crying.

Shhh. Shhh.

He takes you in his arms and cradles you and you never, never, never want to leave. He picks you up and brings you inside his apartment. You fall asleep in his arms as he strokes your hair and wipes the tears away from your eyes and he probably has no idea that no one, including Carly, has ever seen you cry before.

When you wake up you don't remember where you are. You're in his bed and his arms are around you. This is the first time you've ever slept with anyone. Not had sex with, but laid in bed with, entangled in each other's limbs, listening to the sound of your breathing entwine. It's nicer than you thought it would be.

You turn around to look at his sleeping form. So peaceful.

"I love you Freddie."

You kiss his nose. He smiles, pulling you closer.

"I'm not ever giving up on you Sam."

For the first time in forever, you decide to stick around.

Good.

A/N:

So I was actually trying to write more for In Any Other World but then this started to stream out of my conscious. Then as I was originally spouting this out, I thought it might turn into a companion piece for iTried my other one shot. I thought it was looking like Sam's POV for iTried but then it took another turn. But I really like the way it turned out and I think I might even be more of a fan of this story than iTried.

Please check out my other iCarly stories and I know a few of you guys have said you have ideas for In Any Other World. Feel free to message me them, I love hearing from you guys!

Enjoy Life :P