A/N: This is a really good song & it kind of relates, so here:

Is it cruel or kind not to speak my mind

And to lie to you

Rather than hurt you

Well, I'll confess all of my sins

After several large gins

But still I'll hide from you

Hide what's inside from you.

-The Libertines

XXX

So, this is it. I really mean it this time. Spot Conlon and I are no longer friends. In fact, I am currently looking into ways to erase him from my memory a la Eternal Sunshine. I am also looking into a life of my own. I've always thought it might be cool to be a racecar driver (Spot would laugh at this since it took me three tries to get my license. He got his the first time, of course). Hold on, did I just mention Spot? That doesn't count, fuck. Anyway, I'll become successful and famous and…certain people will be incredibly jealous of me. And then maybe I'll die in terrible accident and these "people" will lament that we fell out of touch. Hmmm…probably shouldn't mention that one to any counselors or they'll put me on suicide watch.

Anyway, point is, I can get on completely fine without him. I fact, I'll probably be better off. He's probably been holding me back all these years or something. Holding me back from what? I have no idea. It's just one of those things you say.

So anyway, this was my mindset as I went to sleep that night. I lay in my bed plotting all the ways I could no longer be his friend/make him jealous/stop thinking about him. But remember how I told you that life likes to fuck with me? Yeah, well apparently he's in on it too.

I was awoken at about three in the morning by the screech of my cell phone. I really need to change that ring tone, to something soothing, like dolphins or whatever those crazy people listen to to fall asleep. Anyways, three guesses who was calling? Jesus, why did I just give you three? I'm throwing out guesses like candy. One; I'll give you one guess. If you don't get it you're a fucking idiot.

So, I am suddenly very awake and I answer the phone.

"Meet me outside," he says. Ahh… "meet me outside." Spot and I have quite a history beneath that phrase. It started when we were younger and he'd throw rocks at my window (Not only cliché, but also dent-causing) and eventually (through much persistence in which the window was a key piece of evidence) cell phones. Sometimes it was just to stave off boredom, something exciting and dangerous. But sometimes it was deep, a confession of loneliness or emptiness, the need to have someone who cared about you close beside you. Tonight, I had no idea what to expect.

I went outside to find him behind the wheel of his beat-up Ford pick up. The car was running and I climbed in, not quite fully awake yet. He turned and smiled at me in the way he used to smile when we were doing something "reckless" or "stupid," his wicked smile. I half-smiled back and he put the car in gear.

We drove in silence for a while. To be honest, I was still trying to put my head together. Apart from the fact that I had just been woken up, I was, as usual of late, confused. I am really ready for things to straighten out. Whoa, that could have a double meaning. Jesus, I'm tired.

"So, where are we going?" I ask, stifling a yawn.

Spot glances at me. "You have spit on your face," he says pointing. God, that's embarrassing.

I pull down the mirror. "Where?" I ask. I don't see any. I look at Spot and he's grinning at the road. Fucking hilarious. He always does this to me. Says something to make me look stupid and piss me off. Usually when he wants to avoid serious conversation. Which is always, incidentally. Anyway, I kind of scowl because I'm fucking sick of avoiding all this shit between us. So I'm about to dive right in, but then he turns the car onto a dirt road and I know where we're going. The excitement destroys my impulse to talk. We're driving on an off-road trail up a mountain. We use to always do this when Spot first got his car. One time, the car got stuck and we tried to walk back and ended up lost in the woods for three days. They sent a search party out for us and we slept huddled under fallen trees. On the third day, we somehow stumbled into a ranger station. It was probably one of the most exciting things that's ever happened to me. We were like Tom and Huck, eating berries and chasing rabbits (thank God we didn't catch one).

After rumbling up the hill (which causes me to lose my stomach). We pull up to the edge of the cliff. Far away below, we can see the lights of our town. The shopping center, the school, we've even figured out (approximately) where our houses are. Spot stops the car and puts it in park. My mind disturbingly jumps to the fact that this is considered a make out spot by a lot of the teens in our town. Neither of us sees it that way though.

So, by now the silence is awkward. I'm guessing Spot brought me up here for a reason. But I'll be damned if he'll bring it up. That's always how he is. I have to coax his problems out of him and make him feel like they're my problems and he's doing me a big favor by sharing them.

Tonight, I decide to just shoot straight. "So, what's up?" I am such a nice person, a saint really. Most people would be mad. Most people would want to grab him by is scrawny neck and wring him dry. But not me, nope. Not at all. Okay, maybe a little.

Spot takes a deep breath. "I feel, like, weird." He says. A man of many words. But the way he says it (and the fact that we're so close, we're nearly telepathic (or were)), I know exactly what he means. He's talking about the weirdness that had been between us ever since he got back. Which, as I've established, is entirely his fault. Anyway, I'm actually kind of proud of him from coming this far. This is unusual for him. Still, I'm not going to let him off so easy.

"Whaddya mean?" I ask. See, I can be cruel.

Spot takes his eyes off the landscape and looks at me patronizingly. He can spot my bull a mile away. But at the same time, he also knows why I'm dishing it out. He looks back at the view. "Ever since I got back- it feels different." I nod and he knows I agree without even seeing it.

We sit in silence for a pretty long time. It's really weird because it feels electric between us. I don't know if it's the anger or the jealousy or just the power of us together or even a symbol of the end. Maybe it's just the force of the world, telling us that things can never be the same again. And I never even had a chance to say good bye to the way they were. And here we are, together and apart. Are we splitting up or coming back together? I can't even tell. But I realize that even if we stay friends, it'll be like starting over. The new Race and the new Spot. The old relationship is dead, and we can't get it back.

"Race?" Spot's voice shocks me out of my wondering.

"Yeah?" I answer back.

He looks at me. His blue eyes filled with soul. "I'm sorry." Maybe there's hope for us yet.

XXX

Awww…tenderness. When will these fuckwits get a clue? Stay tuned…