It was a humid June morning, the clock's long hand completing another full circle, marking the passage of thirty-three minutes past one. The surroundings were still dark, and the streetlights flickered unsteadily. Loud footsteps resounded from its impact to the gravel. If you looked out your windows closely, you would see the flickering streetlights illuminating the face of a girl with tear-stained cheeks, the grief on her face enough to make you sympathize with her sorrow. But then it was dark again, and you wouldn't believe you ever even saw her if you still weren't hearing the frantic steps she was making on the road's gravel. When the light flickers on again, she is nowhere in sight, and only the fading sound of her footsteps remains, staying with you until it becomes dark again.

Sam Puckett is running, and running fast. She pulls her white light jacket tighter around her as another wave of shivers rack through her body. Even though her first year of college wasn't over yet, the temperature had already taken a turn toward summer-ish. And yet, as she runs, her feet pounding on the gravel so loudly that she knows that she's disturbing other people's well-deserved sleep, shivers run through her body, making her feel cold. Sam, who had walked on her way to her destination earlier, is dressed only in her favourite form-fitting pair of black pants, a purple shirt she knows he loves on her, and a white light jacket. At the time, it wasn't this cold – sure, there was a breeze, but the air still spelled summer. She doesn't know if mornings are really cold in this part of town, or if it's just her.

She knows it's just her.

Another shiver runs through her body, and she lets out a choked sob. She's tired. Tired of the cheating, the lies. Tired of him. Tired of running. And yet she can't stop, because all she knows is that she has to get as far away from there as she can. She can recreate her steps from earlier, and maybe it can be like it never happened, like she had never seen what she had. More tears fall down her face, and soon it gets harder to breathe – because of the memory, or because of the running, she doesn't know. Soon enough she is gasping for air, her legs slowing down just a fraction of the speed she started with. More tears pour down her face, and she knows she must look like a mess, but she knows that it doesn't matter. It was late, and she wouldn't have been out so late if the night had gone the way she wanted it to. The lights in the houses and the buildings she passes by are off, and she knows everyone was off in dreamland, where she could've been if she had never gone out to go see him.

Her legs start to feel like jelly, and she feels like she could suddenly fall to the ground at any given moment. She slows a little more, wiping her tears with the back of her hands, her sobs echoing through the night.

Suddenly there are arms pulling her to a stop, and even though she hated it, she wanted to look up and find him there, ready to spill apologies from his lips. But her tearful eyes only meet a pair of black, unfeeling ones. "Shh," the man tries to comfort her, but she knows what he is trying to do. She's scared, and she hates feeling scared, but that was the only thing she felt when she stared back into his crazed eyes. "Why runnin' so early, darlin'? Lemme drive you home." He takes a hold of her upper arm and pulls her a little too forcefully toward a silver Mazda on the curb. "Stop," she cries, trying to stand her ground, but she can't – the man was a tad stronger than her. He pays no attention to her plea, pulling her closer to the car. Her heart is beating like crazy, all the alarms in her mind going off. "Stop!" She screams, trying to pull her arm away, finding that she can't. She has never felt so hopeless before.

He turns on her, his hold still on her left arm, and shouts, "Shut the fuck up, bitch!" His other hand reaches out to slap her across the face. It stings, but it invokes anger in her that she knows she needs. She will never be able to ward off a strong man with a criminal mind when she's vulnerable. She wastes no time and punches him square on the face with her right arm, hard enough that his grip on her arm loosens. She takes the lead time she has to resume her running, scared for her life. The man can follow me with his car, she thinks, and so she decides to go for another route. Soon enough she's running faster than when she started, and the man and his silver Mazda are nowhere in sight. She can see her dorm building around the corner, and she pushes herself faster, ignoring the pain her feet were experiencing. She reaches the building and pushes elevator button six, exhausted. She doesn't know if it was from the running, the hurt she was feeling in her chest, or the experience she had with the guy. All she knows is how comfortable her bed would feel when she gets to lie down on it…

Once on her floor, she removes her gray ballet flats and wipes lazily at the tears on her cheeks, walking towards door number 608.

But when she gets there, there's somebody blocking her way from getting to the door.

She roughly pushes him away, and he loses his balance, but she doesn't care. She doesn't fucking care. He could fall and break his neck for all she cared. She takes out her key and puts it to the slot, turning the knob open, and putting the key back into her pocket. She places her hand on the doorknob, ready to enter, when he grabs her arm. Electricity shoots up her arms, and she hates how a single touch from him can set her body ablaze. "Sam," he chokes out, turning her to face him. She doesn't resist because her body is tired, and she knows it's easier not to argue. She meets his milk chocolate brown eyes, their silent pleas reaching her. She pulls her arm from his grip and struggles to look away. "Don't touch me," she spits at him, opening the door and closing it behind her.

Behind the door, she falls into a crumpled heap, her silent sobs taking her over, her tears starting once again.

Freddie Benson makes a fist and hits it against the wall in frustration. "Damn it," he curses under his breath, feeling his eyes start to water. He can hear her sobs from the other side of the door, and he feels so mad at himself for being the reason for her tears. He stands there with his fist to the wall, silently crying.

"Sam," he pleads again. "Sam, please. I – I didn't –"

"What?" Her voice, laced with venom, screams back at him. "I don't wanna hear your excuses! Why don't you go back to your dorm room and have a good time with your friends!"

He winces at her tone, but knows he had it coming. He can hear her sobs getting louder. "I – I can explain –" he starts again, before being cut off by her.

"I don't need your explanations!" This time, her tone surprises him because it contained every ounce of hurt and pain that he knew she was feeling. Her voice is thick with crying, but he knows. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

He inhales sharply, trying to find the strength to go on. He wouldn't admit it, but he was very easily intimidated by his girlfriend. "I'm not leaving," he says firmly, "not until you come out here and talk to me."

"Well then, you can have fun missing your finals!"

He sighs, knowing she's right. Studying for his finals was what got him in this situation in the first place…

She lay on the floor, belly on her plush red carpet. Her books were strewn all around her, her sets of colored pens and highlighters scattered. She held a pen in her hands which she tapped to her cheek while she read.

Yes, she, Sam Puckett, was studying for her finals. Coincidentally – or maybe not, she didn't know anything – Freddie's finals started on the same day as hers. He had called her that afternoon, told her that he would spend the rest of the day studying, and that she should too. "I don't need to be told that," she had replied defensively. "Mama's serious when it comes to her studying."

"Good to know that, Sam. I'm really proud of you." She felt her heart do a little happy dance inside, happy to know that he was proud of her.

She tried not to show her happiness in her voice, keeping her voice level. "I was serious the last two years of high school. I'm pretty smart," she continued to say.

"Yeah yeah," he laughed, and her heart did little backflips at the sound of his laughter. She missed him. She missed him terribly – both of them had spent the weekend studying, and she wanted to see him again as soon as possible.

"You should be the one studying. You're the one in MIT."

"You're the one in Harvard."

Yes, she had gone to Harvard. She found that if she actually used her brain and studied, she actually did pretty well. The teachers at Ridgeway were astounded by her sudden interest in her studies, of course, but she didn't care about them. She did well because she wanted to do it for herself. And also because there was someone who was inspiring her…

Freddie, on the other hand, had gone to MIT. It was predictable, as he was into nothing but technology. It was also convenient for the couple, because MIT and Harvard were so close to each other, and they could meet up and do homework together. They spent hours on end together in his dorm room, and Freddie's roommate, Troy, didn't seem to mind at all. Troy was into having fun all the time, and he teamed up with Sam to get Freddie out of his books when he was so caught up in studying.

She shook her head, clearing it of memories. She wanted nothing but to be with him right now, to feel his arm against hers. It gave her a sense of comfort, and she wanted nothing but to feel him beside her.

"I bet your tech-nerd stuff is harder though."

"Sam, don't call it that!"

"Whatever." She tossed her hair to the back, biting the end of the pen she was holding. "Shouldn't you be studying? Why'd you even call?"

"I can't stand not talking to you, you know that. And I just wanted to tell you that I…" She waited, wanting to hear the words from him so badly.

"…believe in you." She could hear the smile and sincerity in his voice, and she mentally cursed herself for wanting much, much more. "Study hard, okay? Like they say in Star Trek, study hard and –"

"Prosper, yeah yeah," she tapped her pen against her cheek, trying to concentrate on the math problem in front of her. "You should go study now, so you can 'prosper'," she teased. She tried to sound serious again. "I'm studying right now, dork. You're disturbing me."

"Oh, sorry," he said, sounding flustered. "I guess I'll leave you alone now."

"Hey, Sam!" screamed Troy from across the room.

"Tell him I say hey back," she instructed. "Bye, Freddie."

"Bye."

And she hung up.

She didn't hear what she wanted to, but that didn't matter because she knew he didn't have to say it. She smiled to herself and went back to her problems, completely satisfied.

That was almost eight hours ago. It was already one in the morning, and she was still on the floor and studying, except now she had a bowl of Skittles beside her. She shook her head restlessly. She wanted to see Freddie, she really did. She knew he was probably already asleep by now – even though he worked his ass off studying, he still slept early so that he would have enough energy in the morning. Or at least that's what he always told her.

She stood up and stretched, took her light jacket off of her bed and walked out her dorm room. She had it all to herself, thank God. She locked up and walked slowly down the long flight of stairs, and opened the door of her dorm building, only to be met with the cool night air.

She started walking, thinking of Freddie. She knew what she wanted to do. She always had a key to Freddie's dorm room – he had given it to her. She would quietly sneak into the room as to not wake Troy up, and get into his bed. Freddie always stayed on just one side, so she decided she would stay on the other. She would stay there and sleep there, and he would wake up in the morning and find her on his bed. Then they could make breakfast together and get their cuddle on before their exams started.

She smiled to herself, thinking of his strong arms around her.

Back then she didn't know she would be so wrong.

Sam had taken her sweet time walking the streets. It wasn't warm, but it wasn't cold, either – and she loved it that way. She liked the silence, and the way the streetlights illuminated everything in their path. It took her twenty minutes to walk to the university, and a few more minutes to walk to his dorm and get into his room's floor. She took out a key from her pocket and opened the door.

The first thing that registered was the smell of alcohol. Freddie and Troy were both seated in their small sofa set, drinking out of beer bottles. They were laughing together, and only when her view of Freddie was blocked did it register to her what was happening.

They were having a drinking party with some other girls. One of them, a short redhead, had sat on Freddie's lap and whispered things to him. He laughed. She put her lips on his, and he didn't resist. And that was it.

It was so short and it happened so fast, but it was enough to bring her whole world down.

She ran out of that building, hearing shouts of her name, but she ignored them. She started running, wanting to be away from everything.

Freddie sits on the carpet of the hallway, his back to the door. He doesn't want to lose Sam. He loves her so much – he didn't want what she saw earlier to happen. One minute, he was having a good time with some friends, and the next, Sam was running out of his room.

"Sam," he knocks, pleading with his voice. It disheartens him to hear himself sound so defeated. He puts his ears on the door, trying to hear any sound from her. "I didn't mean for that to happen. If you just let me explain, I –"

"Stop, Freddie," he hears from the other side. It's quiet and faint, but he knows that she must be sitting listening with her ears to the door, too. "Just stop." Her voice cracks and it tears at his heart to hear her like this. He hurt her. Even though he didn't mean to, he did.

So he stops like she tells him to. But he knows that she knows that he will stay there on the other side of the door, waiting for the storm to pass.

It's not what it looked like. He was studying. He was seriously studying, like he told her he would. Except he didn't sleep early like he usually did, but spent more time studying some more. Even with Troy constantly telling him that he should lay off the books because he was surely going to ace the exams, he still wasn't satisfied. He sat across of Troy on their small sofa set, reading and rereading everything, making sure that all the information was making its way into his mind.

Someone closed the book he was reading, and he looked up to see Troy. "Dude. You've studied for god knows how many hours straight. You gotta loosen up!" He did a hairflip that was strangely similar to Justin Bieber's, keeping the bangs out of his eyes. "With a brain like yours, you're sure to ace everything. So chill."

"How am I supposed to chill when our finals start tomorrow?" He asked Troy exasperatedly, who had left him and was now walking to the refrigerator. Troy was too easygoing, and he knew he was making such a big deal out of their upcoming finals, but it was important. It was his education, for Christ's sake!

"I know how," Troy told him as he walked back to the sofa and took a seat beside him on their small but comfortable couch. He handed Freddie an opened beer. "It'll loosen you up. God, I wonder how it would feel like to be your nerves when you're so focused on studying." He took a swig out of his bottle and motioned for Freddie to do the same. "Go on," he said, "Nothing's getting out of hand."

But things always did. Soon, there were more people in their dorm room, most of them girls whom Troy had invited. Much later they were all drunk and dancing around each other, but Freddie kept in his seat. They made stupid jokes and laughed over stupid things. He checked his watch and saw that it was past one in the morning. When he looked up, one of Troy's girl friends, who he remembered was named Stacie, was in front of him. "Hey there cutie," she purred, sitting on his lap. He didn't try to resist – after all, they were just having fun – so long as she didn't start making moves on him.

She leaned into him until she was breathing on his ear. "Do you want me?"

He laughed, which was a really irrational thing to do, but you had to understand – he was drunk. "No –" he started to say, when her lips were on his. They were warm and soft, and they reminded him of Sam's lips…

The thought of Sam returned him to rational thinking. He roughly pushed the girl away, looking out their opened door room and seeing a flurry of blonde curls disappearing from the doorframe.

"Sam!" He called, running drunkenly out the door, only to find that she wasn't there anymore. He turned back to glare at the wide-eyed Troy, and Stacie came up to him.

"That you're girlfriend? Whatever, I didn't want you anyway." She stalked off to where Troy was sitting, and it made him so angry – the girl was an absolute bitch! – but he decided to keep it to himself and hurriedly took his car keys from one of the drawers beside the sofa set, dashing out of the room and into the parking lot. He got into his car, shaking his head at himself. How could he have been so stupid? Tears welled up in his eyes at the thought of Sam. He wiped his tears away, knowing he had to follow her. The engine revved under him, and soon, the car was in motion, heading towards Harvard University.

He arrived at her dorm building, asking the door man if Sam had already returned. Apparently she had not. His gut sank at the thought of waiting for her to return, and having to talk to her about the misunderstanding they had had. He walked up the stairs and to the sixth floor, walking down the quiet hallway and stopping at her door. He stood there, trying to think clearly about what he wanted to say to her when she got there. He wanted to quickly get to the point, to tell her it was all just a big misunderstanding, that whatever her assumptions were, they were wrong.

But when the elevator dinged and he saw her walk tiredly to her door, wiping away her tears every now and then, her ballet flats in one hand, he felt his words start to disappear. She spotted him right as she stood in front of her door, and roughly pushed him away. He lost his balance, and straightened himself up right away. He opened his mouth to speak, but found his throat all choked up, the words he wanted to get to her not quite coming out. She was about to open the door when he grabbed her arm, turning her around. He tried to plead to her with his eyes, letting out a choked and empty "Sam." She pulled away from him, eyes leaving his, and sent out a venomous "Don't touch me," before she locked him out.

And when she did, he felt like she was locking him out of her life.

Her sobs have died down, and she keeps her ear against the door, if only to hear the comforting sound of Freddie's breathing against his side of the door. It's sad how they've come to this, to nothing but the silence. She wants to unlock the door and run into his arms, where she knows she's safe. She wants to tell him that he can explain, and he will, and then they can pretend nothing ever happened. But she knows it's bigger than that. A part of her wants to, but a part of her wants to take time to sort out her feelings. She's confused – what girl who catches her boyfriend kissing another girl isn't? The thought brings fresh images of what happened to her mind, and she feels her eyes sting, sees her vision blurring. She lets her tears fall on her carpet. More come, but she doesn't care. She wants to cry and sleep all her pain away, and wake up and find everything back to normal. But she knows nothing will ever be the same after what happened.

She doesn't let him explain. She doesn't want him to. Part of her does, but if she does hear it, how can she be sure that he's not lying to her?

"Sam," he calls out weakly again. She hates how she pushes herself closer to the door in anticipation of what he has to say, but she does. "I'm sorry. I swear it wasn't what you thought it was." And that's when she thinks that she has heard enough. She doesn't want to hear any more. She looks up and into the face of the clock on one of her bedside drawers, seeing that it's almost three and that they've been waiting on each other for more than an hour.

"Don't say anything more," she tries to say loud and clearly, but it comes out soft and defeated. "I don't want to hear any more. Go home, Freddie."

"Sam…"

"Please." And she feels the tears start to form again on her eyelids, and she closes her eyes and let them fall, shaking her head. "Just go."

Freddie looks down at the watch on his arm, seeing that it's almost three in the morning. Both he and Sam have their finals later on in the morning, but he doesn't see how any of that could be important right now.

"Sam," he starts again, talking to the door. "I'm sorry I swear it wasn't what you thought it was." He stops, trying to see how she will react. But she doesn't, and so he waits a little longer, thinking it's her way of saying that he can go on. He opens his mouth to tell the story, but she beats him to it.

"Don't say anything more," she tells him, and his mouth closes almost immediately. He can hear the hurt and defeat in her voice. "I don't want to hear any more. Go home, Freddie."

He shakes his head vigorously, unwilling to accept her words. It hurts to know that she won't hear his side of it, that he won't even listen to her, that she didn't even stay outside to at least know the truth. "Sam…" But he finds himself speechless. He doesn't know what to say anymore.

"Please," she says again, her voice shaky. "Just go."

He decides it's time to respect her decision. He just hopes that once she sleeps over it, she'll come around and give him another chance.

He stands, his back hurting from not moving from his position outside the door, and walks away. He wants to believe that they're going to be alright, and that they'll move on from this incident, but he can't help but feel like he's losing a part of him as he leaves.

When Sam's father left his family, leaving behind a woman he never married, two children he had with said woman, and all his responsibilities for them, she had lost love. When Melanie started becoming popular, having all the boys at her feet, Sam's jealousy and hatred of her sister caused their relationship to worsen, until they drifted apart… and she knew she had lost love. When she used to watch Carly and Freddie, Freddie flirting with her and Carly unknowingly flirting back, she felt like she lost love. When they finally got together after Freddie had saved her life, that feeling grew bigger.

She feels the hinges of the door loosen, and she knows that he's leaving. She listens to his footsteps as they faded away, and as soon as she was absolutely sure that he had already left, she lets out a sob she didn't know she was holding. Tears start to form on her eyes once again, and sobs start to rack her body just as they had when she was running. She doesn't know why it hurts so bad, why it hurts so much more than it had earlier.

She's a crumpled heap on the floor, crying her eyes and her heart out, and it's the worst pain she has felt since her father left her, her mother, and Melanie. She had told Freddie to leave, so he did. Why did it hurt so badly? She sobs into the carpet uncontrollably, lying on it in a fetal position and just trying to sob the pain away.

She had Freddie, had him around her finger, had him as her best friend and lover. It was as if life wanted her to have a taste of love – only to take it back.

And she knew she was losing love all over again.

A/N: I have three unfinished fics on my laptop, and I just felt the need to finish this first. Yay, I haven't written in so long! Anyway, I switched tenses a lot, and I know it sucked, but I wrote it in present tense, except for the flashbacks they had.

Yes, this story is complete. :) Care to review? Reviews are always better than favorites or story alerts.

xoxo, Trixie