A/N: Alright, so this is my first ever fic. Which means: go easy on me. I'm not a writer per se, but I needed to write this story because it's essentially loosely based on my real life and I needed to make sense of... well, my life. I've borrowed the ever so sexy Ashley Davies and Spencer Carlin characters to depict this journey, I hope you enjoy!

"I will lie awake, and lie for fun and fake the way I hold you. Let you fall for every empty word I say." - Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis - Brand New

"I'll make the most of all the sadness. You'll be a bitch because you can." - Slow Dancing In A Burning Room - John Mayer

CHAPTER 1

You've just started your third year of college, studying environmental science and business at Boston University. You've also just moved into an apartment with your girlfriend for the first time. It's freaking you out a little.

Your girlfriend: She's definitely attractive. Anyone with functioning corneas would tell you she's pretty. This girl has been your girlfriend for three years. Except to everyone else, she's your "best friend". That's because she still insists on keeping your relationship a secret. Even after three fucking years. Even after everyone already knows anyway.

The lie has been going on since high school. She was too afraid to come out for fear of rejection from her friends and for fear that her parents would find out. They were both religious and stern people. They treated her like shit.

So you played along at first, and you admit, it was fun. Sneaking around, stealing kisses whenever you could. Hell, you were just happy to be with a girl. Being in the closet with someone else is better than being in the closet on your own. You figured she'd come around eventually. So you waited.

But that day still hasn't come. She is so overwhelmingly insecure and still adamant about keeping the secret. You're suffocating. You're practically drowning in the lies you tell for her. You're itching to get out.

These are the things that pass through your mind as you watch her from the living room. This isn't the first time you've felt this way. This is how you feel all the time. Trapped. Cold. Numb. You want out, and you know it. You so know it. And today, when the reality of the situation hits that you've committed to a 12-month lease with this girl, you know it has to stop. You don't have 12 more months in you to give to her. This has to be done.

"Hey babe," you grab her attention. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah, one sec," comes her uninterested reply. She doesn't catch on to the weight behind your request.

As you wait for her to meet you on the sofa, you don't practice what you're going to say. You know the words will come as soon as your mouth opens. You always were good at improvising.

She plops down next to you, still oblivious and a little impatient.

"What's up, Ash?" she prompts.

You take a moment to look at her, because moments like these need a little suspense. They set the mood.

"…I want to break up with you."

What?

"What?" Yeah, exactly.

"I want to break up with you. I am breaking up with you. And I don't want you to stop me." This isn't your first time trying to end things.

She's silent. You continue.

"We're not right for each other." That's not enough, and you know it. "I just… I don't love you anymore." You're not even sure you ever did. "I don't feel anything when we kiss. I haven't, not for a long time." You say the one thing you know will take away any glimmer of hope. Because you know her well enough to know she'd cling to it for dear life.

"Wow," she breathes out.

Now you give her time, because you're supposed to. You're hoping she doesn't do what she's always done. Drama, crying, kicking and screaming. Threatening to take her life. Crying wolf. You don't feel anything. You've been numb to her for so long you question why you ever got yourself involved in the first place.

And then she starts to cry. You wait a minute before moving to console her, but she swats your arms away. And you're glad. She doesn't want the comfort that you know you don't want to give. Maybe she realizes.

And she does.

"Can we still sleep in the same bed for a bit?"

"Oh, Carmen..."