Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.
A/N: Part three is the last.
--
Yeah, don't degrade yourself the way that I do
cause you don't depend upon all the shit that I use to make my moods improve.
--
It's freezing; her body expertly painted in a thin coat of cold while she sits Indian style on a bench, her own unique spot secluded in the middle of the park.
She's procrastinating, avoiding all that introspection and analyzing. She doesn't want to think about that certain brunette girl that fills her lungs like air. Instead she'll watch the sky and lament about tomorrow's brilliant stars.
Mentally shed a tear as they get wasted on tonight's essential blackness, shining away in the void.
Sam would rather them fade away like her; dissipate in the swell.
It's just that she can find more in common with a barren canvas of black; there's comfort in the empty space because it feels like nothing is started-- there are no mistakes to erase away.
There's no painfully eloquent questions.
No lingering wonders about why she keeps running, that weigh so heavy on her heart.
Just no nothing.
--
She's been in love with Carly Shay a total of thirty two times (so far) in her lifetime.
And it never gets easier but really, she never expected it too.
There is growth in the pull and push of unrequited love and wisdom in acceptance of heartbreak.
(silence)
And she remembered that yet though she wanted to remain still, she broke and stepped forward; set all of this in motion. She dug her fingernails down into the skin of the brunette's arms, keeping the girl in place and connecting with eye sight followed by lip lock.
Any and all doubts were sucked away in the soft gasp admitted into the kiss and all that was left was want and heat and there was just too much of it that she needed to express into those soft lips.
But in the end she pulled away.
Because you always leave them wanting more.
--
So many mistakes made, she'll pay for them one day.
Because debts consume and come back to haunt you.
But for now she won't look back because she's young. She's young enough that she can stand all the running, and destruction, and loneliness.
She'll be just fine on the side of some highway with her hip cocked out and her thumb pointing east. The sun will be shining so bright that the glare and sting of the heat will be a big enough distraction from the irregular beat of her heart.
Two beats and a stop.
It's a subtle morse code from the organ telling her that it can feel the end coming soon, all that breaking she has it doing is really taking a toll.
--
Ending it with Carly was the only way to save the girl.
Sam was no good for her, she was just poison. Really, every Puckett was and she had no intention of letting that venom encoded into her DNA seep into the girl she loved because Carly has a future.
She'll go to college, she'll make something of herself, she'll thrive.
There was no chance the blonde would let her piss everything away because her empty best friend had stupidly fallen in love with her trying to fill in all that hollowness.
She'll drown in the sea pooling from her bleeding heart before that happens.
Yeah, that's the plan.
--
Pace is sluggish; movements drawn out and old.
She pulls everything she needs out of the drawers, all that can fit in her tiny duffel bag because in the next hour or so, she's giving into the wanderlust and skipping town.
She's got excuses. Few of `em.
Maybe she'll write them on the back of a post card and send it back to this side of the country one day.
Oh, here comes the climax.
"Why are you packing?"
It's said in a tiny voice, on the verge of stutter.
She knows who it is instantly (she always would) and Sam freeze up, slightly bent over her bag.
"Sam. Wh-why are you packing? Where… are you going?"