I should be doing my homework, and I should be reading my textbook, and I should be working on my project, but I'm not. It's strange how an idea will hit you, and while I was changing clothes in my closet this morning the first line of this story popped into my head. So I pulled out some paper and wrote it down, then jumped on the computer and typed it up. The entire process probably took a whole two hours, so sorry if it has some mistakes or feels rushed. And I know it's pretty short, but that's just how it came to me. Just an angsty little one-shot, from me to you!

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from writing this.

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"Because!" you hear yourself say, but both the word itself and the tone of your voice sound so pathetic that you halfway don't believe they are actually coming from your own mouth.

"Because what Elle?" Marco replies through the phone line, his voice irritated and tense. "Because he's a thousand miles away and in a relationship with another girl? Because you have college and a chance at a whole new life ahead of you, but are still hung up with the boy from last summer? Or maybe, it's because he's a dumb, oblivious guy who is never going to get it, and I am sick and tired of my best friend being reduced to a shambles every time his ignorance comes back to slap her in the face!"

He's right of course, just as you had known he would be, and the speech he delivers is the one you expected, but that doesn't make hearing it any easier.

"I know all that Marco! I know that you think I am some love struck imbecile who can't see how futile feeling like this is, but God, I can't stop. I want to, and I know that I need to, but I just can't!"

"I understand sweetheart," he says, and his voice has softened, the irritation giving way to a frustrated exhaustion, an exhaustion that lets you know he only wants what's best for you. You wish desperately that he were here right now, so that you could curl your legs up underneath you and sink your head into that perfect space between his neck and his shoulder, but you can't. He's visiting Banting with Paige this weekend, and so the sound of his voice through a cell phone will have to do for now. "and in no way could I ever think of you as an imbecile. Of all the people I went to school with who were imbeciles, you certainly never came close to making the list. It's just that I wholeheartedly empathize with you about having feelings for someone that you can't seem to let go of, as much as you would like to. Hello, remember Dylan? And the thing is, I know that you are stronger than this, stronger than I ever was, and I hate it for you to have to experience that kind of an ache. I love you too much to watch you hurting. Because Elle, I know that you are amazing, and smart, and beautiful and unique, even if he doesn't.

"Oh shut up, you big gay." You say, but it's with a smile through the last of your tears, because you've never been good at accepting compliments, and he knows it.

"No, I really mean it! I'm not saying it just because you are having a hard day, and I'm not saying it just to make you feel better, and I'm not even saying it just to get you to return the favor, though to tell you the truth I am not entirely opposed to the idea. I'm saying it because I honestly and truly believe from the very bottom of my heart of hearts that you, Eleanor Nash, are one hell of a woman.

And now the tears have stopped, and that tightly knotted ball in the pit of your stomach has started to unwind. You know the worst of it is over...at least for now.

"Geez!" You exclaim, the slightest hint of sarcasm sneaking back into your tone, "Why can't you just be straight Marco? Why can't you just like girls and marry me, so that we can stop getting our hearts put through a blender by guys and just live happily ever after together?"

He is silent for a moment, and when he answers you can hear the smirk in his voice. "Because."

Then you laugh and he laughs and for a second you forget about the dark-headed musician that had you curled up in a ball on the floor of your closet. You stand and stretch, pushing an old abandoned pair of weathered black combat boots out of the floor in front of you as you make your way back into the light. The boots are from a different time, a different Ellie, and its strange to think of how much has changed since you last put them on. Now you are teasing Marco as your hand makes contact with the smooth metal of the doorknob leading into your bedroom, and at the second you go to turn it the cell phone against your ear chirps with an incoming call. You know who is on the other line without ever having to check the screen, and your hand drops from the knob as if lead is encasing your arm.

"I have to go." You almost whisper to your best friend, and again, your own voice sounds foreign.

"Why?" He asks, immediately noting the shift in your tone and on the defensive.

Your voice cracks a little who you say it, and you press "accept" on the phone immediately after uttering the word, before he has a chance to respond to your pathetic excuse.

"Because."

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Aww, no happy ending! Please don't be mad, and review anyway!