A/N: I mostly wrote this because I was bored, and yes I know I should update my other TBC fic, but I figured what the hell. I'll just post it anyway lol!! ;) Hope you like it. Mostly drabble and emotions. Oh how I hate a love story ;) But if it's Andy and Allison, I make exceptions :D

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN THE BREAKFAST CLUB!!

Allison threw herself down on her bed and buried her face in the pillows. She hadn't cried in years, she hadn't felt the need. But now, now it felt as though her heart was broken in two. The world was crashing down around her, and she was powerless to stop it.

Andy had broken up with her.

It happened at lunch. She was sitting at the usual table on the east wall of the cafeteria. The wall deemed "freakshow", waiting for Andy. He had been acting so strange lately that she had wanted to talk to him to find out what was going on. Something didn't feel right; and when he sat down, she knew something was very wrong. She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, as had been their ritual for at least a month, but he turned his face away.

"Andy?" She implored. "What's wrong?"

He sighed and stuck his fork into the slop the lunch ladies called "spaghetti." He didn't bother withdrawing it or eating anything. He just left it there, standing on its own, staring at it.

"I think," he began. "I think we should end it."

"End it?" She asked, fear grasping at her heart. "End what?" As if she didn't already know.

"I think we should break up," he said flatly.

"Break up? Why?!"

He looked around, then looked back at her. "Because... Because of you know. Stuff."

And there it was, stinging at the back of her eyes. Tears. Tears she hadn't felt like crying in a very long time. "Stuff?" She said pitifully.

"Yeah, stuff. This...relationship, it's not the right thing for either of us. My buddies, they think I'm insane..."

"This is about your friends?" She demanded, more than a little hurt.

"Not just them," he replied. "And I'm sure your friends..."

"I don't have any friends," she said, cutting him off. "You're it Andrew Clark."

He lifted his fork and then dropped it again, reaching for his apple instead. "I'm sorry Allison."

"You're sorry? That's it?! You break my heart and then you're sorry?!" She stood up and grabbed her bag. "I loved you Andy."

He made no effort to reply, even though she stood there for a moment. Finally she said, "I guess it's better I know that you never loved me."

And she turned and ran from the cafeteria, ran from the school, and went home.

There was a picture on her nightstand of her and Andy. He had one arm thrown casually around her shoulder, and she was leaning in for a kiss. Neither one of them was looking at the camera. Claire had snapped the photo when they were all hanging around on the schoolgrounds last weekend. Throwing the football around, talking and picnicking on the grass. Bender of course was writing curse words on the walls of the school with chalk he'd found on the sidewalk. Allison loved that picture because it was just so perfect. It was exactly the way her and Andy were all the time. At least, the way they used to be. So easy going and carefree. Another wave of tears overcame her as she thought back to that day. What was Andy really thinking then? Was he thinking about how meaningless their relationship was? Was he thinking about what his friends would say? Was he even thinking of breaking it off with her then? The thought paralyzed her. How could she be so naive?

After an hour of crying, she looked up at the clock. Three twenty-five. Andy would be getting home form school soon. No practice on Thursday's, and no matches until the next Monday. She scowled. She knew all that about him, everything there was to know, but how much did he know about her. Her sadness turns to anger; her tears turn to curse words.

"That asshole!" she screams. "That asshole!" She picks up the picture and hurls it across the room, where it shatters against the wall. "I never loved him! I always knew he'd do this! No good sonofabitch!" She lookes around for something else to destroy; anything. His letterman jacket. She picks it up and tosses it out the window. If she was stronger she would have ripped it to shreds, lit it on fire even. She hates him. She's always hated him. She hates him because she loves him. Choking sobs and flaring temper mingle together. "Twit!" She yells.

The phone rings. She stares at it and lets it ring again. Another time. Once more and the person will probably hang up. She snatches it off the receiver, and steadies her voice before saying "Hello."

She knows who it is. It's Andy.

"Andy," she says, intending to ball him out right then and there.

But the first words out of his mouth are: "I love you."

THE END