A/N: I have never written anything rated M before. So if it's awful, I apologize. No real lemons in this chapter yet (at least not between the characters), but there probably will be in later chapters. Hope you like it. If not then...I'm sorry :/ Oh, and this is told in Sam's POV.

Disclaimer: I'm a seventeen year-old girl in Hong Kong. Therefore, I am not Dan Schneider and do not own iCarly. Kthx.

It wasn't even like we planned it or anything.

Carly and Spencer had gone to Yakima for Thanksgiving weekend; something about their Granddad being too old, and that Carly and Spencer were perfectly young and healthy, therefore they should be the ones travelling to see him, not the other way round. I'd barely slept the night they left, what with my mom singing Japanese karaoke in the living room until 5 in the morning. I woke up with dark circles under my eyes and an extreme craving for a burger and something to do.

So I called the only other person I knew who would be somewhat intelligible enough to socialize with. He picked up after the first ring.

"Yo, Freddifer."

"…Sam?" There was a slight uncertainty hindering in his voice.

"Mmm."

"Why are you calling me?" I rolled my eyes.

"What, so I can't just call you?"

"No, it's just…you never call me. Is everything okay?"

"Jeez, Fredward. I don't need to be dying in pain to be calling you, do I?"

"That's not what I meant, Sam. It's just that I'm not exactly someone you would call for no productive reason."

"What are you doing right now?"

"Uh…not anything really…why?"

I pictured him untangling cables or messing around with some new fancy software, but deciding against telling me about it.

"We're seeing a movie. Meet me at the cinema in ten. You're paying."

"What? But Sam, I—"

"Just show up, okay?"

I clicked my phone shut before more whimpers of protest emanated from the earpiece. It wasn't like we were all hugs and smiles with each other, but the nub and I got along well enough these days to not want to slash each others' throats. And with the absence of my best friend…I didn't really have much of a choice, unless I (for some deluded reason) wanted to listen to the shirtless potato of a Gibby yabber on about something that nobody would understand nor care about.

I pulled on a plaid red hoodie and my high tops, and slicked on a bit of mascara, so that if I looked tired, I could blame it on smudged makeup. The air was crisp and fairly chilly, with winter just around the corner. I shivered and pulled my hoodie up, and then stuck my hands in the pockets.

This city was definitely my home. I don't just mean the tall buildings, the horrible rainy weather and the sound of music blasting from the Seattle Beat studio down the street. Carly, Spencer, Gibby…even Freddie. They were what made this place home, and in just over a year, Carls and the geek would be off to other places, making name for themselves. I wasn't really sure what home would be like without them, or whether I would even be staying here or not.

Upon turning the corner, a familiar figure waved at me briefly. I nodded in acknowledgement.

"Hey, you."

"Come on, movie's about to start."


The inside of the cinema was warm, and I pulled my hoodie down as we approached the ticket booth, where he paid for our tickets and a large tub of popcorn. As we passed the poster for Last Night When You Killed Me, he winced slightly, pulling at my arm.

"Uh…Sam, are you sure we should watch this?"

"What, are you scared or something, nub?"

"No! I just—"

"Good, let's go."

Why the lady at the ticket booth even let us into an R-rated movie, I don't even know. Then again, she probably just wants her paycheck.


"Why, Liam? Why did you kill me? I thought we had something special…" the ghostly figure drifted in front of her lover, the one that had held a pillow over her face just the night before.

"We had nothing, Sarah. Don't make it seem like our time together was going to last. And you betrayed me. I know you slept with him. I saw you get in his car."

"I never loved him. I always came back to you, didn't I? I-I loved you…and you killed me."

"Okay, this is pathetic. If I were him, I would've killed her, too. She's the one who cheated on him, and now she's trying to make him feel bad? What a load of bullshit." I reach for more caramel popcorn, stuffing a few kernels in my mouth before slouching in my seat.

"Sam, keep your voice down…and it's not that bad. Definitely not as gory or full of blood and guts as I thought it would be. I don't even know why it's R-rated—"

The scene switches to a flashback.

"I've never been to such a disgustingly boring wedding before. There was far too much talking, and the bride and groom didn't even kiss. Their sex life is probably about as exciting as paperclips." She throws her purse onto the bed, shrugging off her highly uncomfortable black minidress. She feels a pair of arms grab her around the waist and several hot, wet kisses planted on the side of her neck. He's already undressed, a thin layer of sweat coating his torso.

"Well, I'm glad that will never be us, mm?" he slides the dress down the rest of her body, her lace panties going down with it.

"Liam…I…I'm really tired right now. I just want to shower and get some sleep. Maybe another time, okay?" she turns around, kissing him briefly before grabbing a towel from a drawer and heading towards the bathroom. His fists visibly clench, and he pulls her back, capturing her mouth hungrily in his. She struggles against him, but he pushes her onto the bed, pinning her arms above her head.

"It's him, isn't it? You've been sleeping with him again, haven't you, bitch? Don't lie to me, I know everything. You're mine, you hear me? MINE." He clamps a hand over her mouth and forcefully thrusts into her, ignoring her screams and whimpers, her legs trying to kick at him, but his knees pinning them down. He's gripping her wrists so tightly that there are probably red marks where his hands are. He lets go of her mouth, but before she can utter another protest, a pillow muffles her cries, and he holds it there, for a long, struggling moment…until silence overtakes her.

It wasn't until I turned to him that I noticed I had been gripping Freddie's hand so tightly that my nails had probably dug into his skin enough to break it. He looked just as horrified as I was, and turned to look at me cautiously. I blush slightly and let go of his hand.

"Let's uh…let's get out of here, shall we?" he whispers. I nod quickly, and we hurriedly make our way out of the theatre, greatly appreciating the blaring bright light and light-hearted atmosphere of children running down the street.

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