Title: True or False

Summary: My take on how the mental hospital talk will go.

Rating: K+

Word Count: 760

AN: Hey… It's been a while since I've posted anything in the Seddie fanfiction part. But that doesn't mean I'm completely out of the fandom, I've been quietly stalking it ever since I sort of drifted away from the fanfiction. So, yeah, here's something.


Yes, Sam had put herself in a mental hospital. Yes, she considered herself insane. Especially for liking Freddie Benson, the guy she claims to hate, the guy that she sometimes has visions of throwing into a wall – only those visions sometimes turn into Sam shoving him into a wall and admitting all of her feelings for him right there and then. Which, is absolutely and completely crazy. Mental. Which is why she was in the hospital.

But, no, one thing she had not expected was to have her friends find her, and no way did she expect Freddie to come into the room and actually want to talk to her. About that kiss…

That kiss that she hadn't meant to happen, that kiss that filled her stomach to the brim with a warm fluttering, something she desperately wanted to feel again, but something she never thought she would be feeling for Freddie Benson.

"Sam, please explain this to me, because it makes no sense," she hears Freddie beg, after a few minuets of awkward silence.

Sam shrugs, walking back over to the bed, and bringing her knees up to her chest, immediately in a defensive position.

Freddie sighs, bringing over a chair and swinging it around so he was sat saddled over it, he puts his hands over the top of the chair, and leans his chin down on them, and Sam can't help admit that he looks absolutely adorable like that.

"Let's play a game," he whispers, and Sam looks up at him, confused, "True or False."

"What's that?" Sam spits, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Just made it up," Freddie says, leaning back slightly, "You don't have to tell me anything, I'll say what I think I've figured out about … our situation, and you just tell me true, or false."

Sam nods. That seemed like a fair agreement; she didn't have to explain anything into full points, unless she really wanted to. Which she doubted she would. She sat up, facing Freddie now, waiting for her to start.

"Well," Freddie breaths out, "You hate me—"

Sam scoffs, "True."

Freddie sighs, "I wasn't finished, wait for me to finish," he narrows his eyes at Sam, who just sits there with a grin on her face, before he starts again. "Okay, you hate me, but … you like me?"

"True," Sam says after a moment of silence.

"And you've hated me… forever?"

Sam pauses for a moment, biting down on her bottom lip. Has she hated Freddie forever? She had found him annoying for forever, and the hatred had just grown the more time she spent with him, but then the hatred had developed into … something more? She finally settles with, "True," and she can't help but mistake the look that Freddie gives her, which is definitely just purely: hurt.

"So… after we shared our first kiss … you started feeling … different towards me? Not in the way that you didn't hate me, but you enjoyed to hang out with me, wanting to spend more time with me, and those times when we actually got to spend more time with me, you just … felt happy, and like you could be yourself and not have to act, and not have to hide, because for once in your life, you didn't have to feel that way about yourself." Freddie finishes with a loud breath, looking up at Sam, who just stares back at him.

"How did you know all of that?" Sam asks in a breathless whisper, how did Freddie get into her head like that? That was insanely creepy, and she wouldn't doubt if he had some sort of microphone on her brain, just to hear all her thoughts.

"Because," Freddie whispers, as their eyes meet, "I feel the exact same way."

Sam almost chokes on her own breath, if that was even possible. "You like me?" she says out in a choked whisper.

"Truth."

"But you hate me?"

"False."

"Oh…" Sam breathes.

"I never hated you Sam," Freddie says with a chuckle, "It was only strong dislike."

"So?" Sam shrugs, "What do you want to do about it?"

"I don't know," Freddie whispers, looking up to meet Sam's eyes again, "I'll let you figure all that out. And I'll wait for as long as you need me to."

Freddie reaches down and entwines his fingers in with Sam's, and for once, Sam doesn't pull away at the thought of holding Freddie's hand. Instead, she just lets it happens.

Because, yes, she's pretty sure she wants this.