A/N: I have the biggest inspiration for the most angst I've written in a while. YAY!

Disclaimer: I only own the turmoil I'm going to put Zoey through – I don't own 'I Hate This Part' by Pussycat Dolls. Damn you, PCD, for inspiring me.

The world slows down
But my heart beats fast right now
I know this is the part
Where the end starts

- I Hate This Part, Pussycat Dolls

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You never think that you would be reduced to this.

It baffles you because Senior Year starts like something out of Disney. It's the fairytale that consists of the seemingly prefect relationship with the wonderful, adorable goofball boyfriend with the bush of hair you ruffle as a sign of endearment and affection. There's the little brother and the close-knit group of friends you see as a part of daily life. You may be driven to the brink of insanity with their antics, but you can't see life without them.

In the recesses of your mind, you're wondering what goes wrong on this current March day.

You never think this nearly perfect relationship would come to this. You think you're stronger and with him, you can do anything, like you're ready to conquer the world. It's farfetched in reality but you just try to grab onto whatever you hope. But lately, you feel like everything is slipping away from you. Knots take over your stomach, your heart beats so loud, it feels like you've gone deaf but it's the only thing you hear.

Usually when you have an argument, it's nothing monumental. It's no earth-shattering but things can't stay at a plateau of perfection all the time. It's like a small harmless, benign cycle: the actual argument where your differing opinions clash, the cool down period where you just get away from each other to sort out what the hell just transpires, the apologizes you kiss and make up literally, and then the compromise to accommodate both parties.

You never think it could wind down to you and Chase arguing heatedly in your dorm room. Plans about college and senior prom are put on hold, as the words are flung back and forth between the two of them like a tennis being hit back and forth with force by a racquet.

A lump builds up in your throat, and there's pressure stinging the back of your eyes. With tears of realization filling your eyes, you finally understand what's unraveling between your boyfriend and your friend. Ignoring it only makes it more painful for you. You have every right to be indignant and have anger coursing through you in a rush that it shows up in the form of clear salty tears. What the heck does he have to be mad about anyway? He's the one loving another girl – that happens to be your roommate for the past four years – right under your nose. It takes you a while to accept that – it still stings when you think about it in the slightest.

But still, you plant kisses on him, and hold his hand because you hold on to the notion of maybe, even though your grip is losing and don't want to fall down below to the truth that lies there. You're not ready to accept it yet. No yet.

The tears run their course, streaking the apple of your flustered cheeks, and break off at your chin.

The closeness between them, the inside jokes that make them mutually laugh (it's the sparkle in Chase's eyes that occurs), the little smiles they send each other when they think you're not aware – yeah, right. Quinn assures you that it's nothing, and Quinn is smart so you believe it.

You try to believe that.

God, you desperately try. But you can't.

"Hey, Zoe," Lola walks in, a wide grin on her face, her tote bag on her shoulder by its strap. A bunch of NYU pamphlets and booklets are in her arms and she lets out a sigh, allowing them to drop on her bottom bunk. The actress glances around, noticing that Quinn is gone. "Hey, where's Quinn?"

Lola then kicks herself for asking, as you look at her with questioning. They both answer in unison, "Date with Logan."

"So, how'd the college fair with NYU go?" you inquire, taking a swig of your strawberry kiwi Blix.

"It was actually not so boring," the actress replies, and gets excited. "I applied to UCLA because we all promised to apply to colleges here first, but their theatre program is just amazing. This could be it! I could be on Broadway, and that's almost as good as winning an Oscar!"

You smile at your friend. She always has stars in her eyes, "Don't forget me in your acceptance speech," you joke with a laugh, while you rub your eyes, seeing as you wake up from a nap thirty minutes before.

"Are you crazy? I would never do that," Lola's smile widens a little more and she looks excited. "But it was fun when Chase went with me. He really got into that screenwriting workshop. We're totally going to apply."

Suddenly, the air around you goes stale.

It goes stale and you feel the slightest of hurt when your lips go into an almost unseen frown. It's no big deal, but still it would be nice to know. Lola's inquiring voice brings you to reality and you look at her with newly renewed attention.

"Zoe?"

"Yeah?"

"It's cool that Chase and I went to that NYU fair today, right? He's been great since Vince and I broke up, y'know? I can see why you enjoy his company so much," Lola explains. "So, I hope you're cool about me and your boyfriend hanging out for almost half the day."

You swallow thickly, knots contorting your stomach, but you plaster a smile on your face. It's a miracle you can even force your brain to piece together the nodding signal.

Managing a small, quick nod, you answer, "Yeah. I'm cool with that. What are friends for, right?"

It plagues you incessantly for days on end, until somewhere in your movie-like Senior Year, the situation becomes something like that of a horror movie watched in absolute pitch darkness. Gasps become locked in your throat, and screams are suppressed and you peek at the horrible, spine-tingling part of the horror movie through the limited spaces between your fingers.

It haunts you for days, which turns into weeks, which blossom into months.

The situation has gone into something of a tragedy, because you hear voices blend with mutual unwavering determination. You never know Chase could posses something that strong.

It's quite tragic when you hear yourself yell above him, "I want out, Chase!"

Your tears are falling slightly faster, because you hear silence. A part of you hopes you'd hear footsteps and then the sound of the door closing. You'll be alone but you know you're not. You feel those green eyes, the ones you can get lost in and do on numerous occasions, boring into you and they make you look up from your black ballet flats to meet his hurt and quite shocked gaze.

His voice drops to a whisper, "What?"

"You heard me," you confirm, despite the ache in your chest. "I want out."

"Zoey," he says, and runs a hand through his bushy hair. He closes his eyes, letting a sigh push past his lips before looking at you again. You can't be mad at him. You want to, but you just can't. He grabs both of your hands, making you look at him. "Zoey, I love you. The fight about college was stupid. I love you, you know that."

You gently retrieve your hands back and look at him with an oxymoronic sad smile, "But you love Lola more…right?"

It's the damning look clearly shining in his eyes that helps you realize you are right all along.

It's partly your fault, you conclude. Maybe that paper can wait, and maybe the Senior Class presidency is insignificant because it doesn't have anything to do with the affairs of the heart. This does. You do everything together, and this is no different as you watch his heart break too. You want to know. You have to ask and get answers. You won't play the jealous card. You won't play the dramatic card, but you have to know.

"How long? When did you – "

You break the silence because everything in the midst of it seems to increase decibels.

You can't even finish.

" – start developing feelings for Lola, even though I was with you?" he finishes for you, and Chase remains quiet, scuffing the tip of his Converse sneakers against your carpeted dorm floor. He speaks again, sending you the most apologetic look one can send. "I never understood why she was with Vince. Everyone said he was nice, and hey, he was. I believed him, but I didn't trust me. Something didn't settle right with me at all. And then she walked into drama class, and she was upset. I asked her what was wrong and the next thing I knew, she was sobbing saying that she and Vince were over. That he'd dumped her out of the blue sky because he needed that football scholarship, and a girlfriend would be a distraction and those college recruiters needed to see him play to his fullest potential. Being the good guy, I gave her a friendly hug just to comfort her. It was until the following week that I found it that the break-up had nothing to do with football or college at all – but he'd fallen for Tamara Bailey, the new girl that does all of these charitable things like reading to the blind and stuff. Apparently, Vince is into girls like that now. So, he needed to break up with Lola."

You remember a vague conversation about that subject, but the only thing you can put together is, "Oh."

He offers a shrug, looking away before he looks back at you, " – and she just began confiding in me more and more, and even though I didn't want to admit it, things sort of took on a life of its own."

"Then you don't have to worry about me anymore."

It comes out bitter, even though you don't want to admit that.

"Hey," he gets your attention, gently. "You're not a burden. You never were."

"How come I don't believe that, then?"

"I don't know, but I believe that. I want you to too, Zoey."

"Chase, I – " you start, before you realize that your voice gives out, and you cry. There's no happy ending to this move-like life. There's no white knight or beautiful white horse for you to ride into the sunset with. Feeling his arms wrap around you, you only allow tears to fall and make no effort to stifle them. You can't push him away. You can't slap him. You don't any of those things because you're so drained, so tired, when your emotions finally overpower you and rattle you so strongly you're left with no other alternative.

You hear him whisper something to you.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

This is it. Everything slips between your fingers.

The screen fades to black.

The slow and quite sad soundtrack of the recent events unraveling plays in the background while the end credits roll.

That's it. It's definitive now. It's final.

You hate this part of the movie.

A/N: There it is. Two tries, and three edits later. It's there. It's angsty Choey, with a side of Chola (because I couldn't resist it!), but I hope everyone's happy with it. Let me know how I did. I can't stand PCD, but the song is actually pretty beautiful, and I was going nowhere with this piece until the song struck me, and I managed to spit this out. I really hope I managed to capture Zoey's feelings on this. Even if you leave a review telling me how it made me cry and stuff, I'll be happy. That's the best kind of review.

I wrote this as a birthday present for Haley! It's not Quogan, but I threw a little Quogan in there just for you. I hoped you enjoy it, and once again, happy birthday, Haley!

Review while I eat. God, I'm hungry.

One oneshot down, one to go. And I'm working hard on the epilogue for Guidance. I want to finish and get it over with, but I don't want to kill all of the hard work I did by giving you guys a crappy epilogue. Know what I mean?

Once again, review please.

-Erika