A/N: I know I'm an awful person. I didn't update at all this week, and I really have no excuse, other than I ran out of ideas momentarily. 'Cause I know where this is going; I just don't know how it's gonna get there. Um, yeah. This is a long update- longest yet. I hope to get another chapter up tonight or tomorrow.

Disclaimer: Why on earth would I be writing an AU fanfiction if I owned these characters?

I wake up the next morning to Ashley's groaning over her massive headache. She's already out of bed and in the bathroom, bent over the toilet. "Spencer," she moans. "What did I do last night?"

I chuckle as I get her migraine medicine out of her bag and fill the cup up in the sink outside of the bathroom. She looks at me, and she's totally feeling disgusting, I can tell. Her hair is a mess, and it's a lucky thing that she didn't think to put on any make-up last night, because it would be smeared everywhere. Ashley has a policy about wearing make-up to bars: don't, because by the time you hook up with someone, you're both too drunk to care whose dolled up and whose not.

Another good thing about Ashley's hangovers is that they usually don't involve much puking. She probably did most of in the middle of the night, which is what generally happens. She'll just have a massive migraine for the rest of the day. That I can deal with as long as the medicine doesn't make her act up too much.

"You feeling okay?" I ask gently. "Throw up a lot?"

She groans. "First, I sat over the toilet for an hour last night, but only puked twice. Second, you avoided my other question."

"Sure you want to know?"

Her face is pained and freaked. "Oh, God. What did I do?"

"Nothing you won't totally laugh off," I assured her. "Let's see... you practically blindfolded me and took me to the Little Wedding Chapel, where you asked me to marry you."

"Is that even legal?" she asks, thankfully not brooding on it.

"Probably not," I say and then continue with a devilish grin. "Then, you jumped up on the bar and tried to give a strip show to the guys there-"

"How much clothing did I lose?"

"None." I smiled at her breath of relief. "I stopped you from taking your shirt off and becoming a stripper in a crowded bar, but that didn't stop you from attempting to take it off in an elevator and be my stripper."

Ashley looks horrified. "I didn't do anything, did I? I try to like make-out with you or anything? All clothing still firmly on my body?"

I laugh. "Yes, you stayed clothed. But, actually, you might not have the whole night. Who knows what you were doing while I was playing blackjack?"

She groans. "I don't wanna think about it. And Spencer? You're driving."

"I know." And we set out.

We're both exhausted, so not much talking goes on. We reach Wichita, Kansas, late that night and both of us just want to go to bed. We get a two bed room, but we end up sharing a bed again, Ashley's arm wrapped firmly around my waist as I snuggle into her.

We wake up that morning at seven. We want to get to Ohio before nine at night, so we need to leave now. Ashley is driving again, but we both are silent. The songs play in the CD player, but neither of us sing. She finally gives up and puts the third Harry Potter book-on-CD in. We listen to the man read about Harry's adventures in silence.

It's not until we reach the Ohio border that we have a conversation worth mentioning. It's seven at night; we've been driving for twelve hours and we're sick of it. There's only two more hours to go, and I realize it's stupid of me to think that I'll get through the entire trip without one question from Ashley.

"Anything you want to tell me?" she asks tentatively. "You know, even about your family?"

I sigh, but answer her with a shaky voice. "My family is me, Glen, Clay, Mom, and Dad. Clay is adopted. He married a woman named Chelsea, who I think might love me the most in the family after Clay. They have one son, Chris- he's three. Glen's married too; this girl I used to be friends with. They don't have any kids. Everyone still lives in Harbor Hills. Mom and Dad haven't moved. It's still the same house."

"Why do they hate you?"

I look at her strangely. "You know exactly why."

"But you need to say it." Once again, Ashley is right. I hadn't known she could be this deep and insightful before the trip.

I take a deep breath. "They hate me... they hate me... they hate me because... because I'm gay." I look at her, tears in my eyes. "God, Ash, I'm not ready for this. Take me back. Take me home."

"I am," she says simply. And she doesn't say any more.

We see the sign that says we're half an hour from Harbor Hills. We've really picked up our speed (I think Ashley might've been going a little over the limit). She keeps throwing me expectant glances, like she wants me to say something.

"I need to know more," she says. Her tone isn't the soft, caring tone it's been the entire trip; it's colder, firmer, something that makes me feel all guilty inside. I think that's her intent.

"I don't know what more I can tell you," I mutter. "I'm not ready to say anything."

"Well, you need to," Ashley snaps. She's getting angry with me now, and I can't blame her. I'm getting angry with me. "Just something, anything. A little bit."

I stay silent. She sighs. "What was her name?"

I'm puzzled. "Who?"

"The girl."

"What girl?"

She looks at me now, like she's getting annoyed with my stupidity. "The girl who made realize you were gay."

"Oh, I..." I don't know what to say. In fact, there's a very simple, clear cut answer to that question, but I don't know if I'm ready to say it aloud, even if to her, it will just be a name.

"Mine was Jen," she states bluntly.

"Jen?" I'm not sure if Jen is a character or a real person.

"Jen from Dawson's Creek," she explains. "I used to watch that show because it reminded me that other kids were going through stuff, and it wasn't just me. And then I started noticing Jen and her hotness. I kinda knew ever since." I am still silent. "I can tell by the way you're acting that your girl was real; not someone from TV."

"She was real," I answer quietly, surprising even myself. "She was gorgeous and fun and smart, and I was totally in love with her. Her name was Elle."

Ashley nods, and tries to hide it, but I can tell she's intrigued. "Did she return them? Your feelings, I mean?"

I hesitate before saying it. "Yes." Ashley can sense that it's a momentous thing for me to even bring up Elle, and I'm grateful that she lapses into silence. I haven't mentioned Elle to anyone in five years. I haven't said her name. Not even when Luke called to tell me they got married. Her and Glen.

"I loved her, you know," I blurt out randomly. It's like once I've said her name, I can talk about her. She's no longer a distant blur in the back of my mind. She's real again.

Ashley smiles sadly at me; she knows there's more to the story, but doesn't press.

"I miss her," I state solemnly. "Every day, I miss what we had."

A lightbulb goes off in Ashley's head, judging by her facial expression. "Spencer, this Elle, she's not the one Glen married, is she?" She asks as gently as possible, but it would be impossible not to hurt me with that question. It's like getting into cold water: no matter how slowly you easy in, it's still going to be cold.

"Yes." I nod my head, and then I start to cry. I cry like I haven't cried in five years. I cry because I'm remembering everything all at once. The innocence captured in Ohio at the beginning; the day the innocence was lost. Because Ohio isn't innocent; not anymore. It left with Elle.

Ashley pulls over to the shoulder of the highway and unbuckles her seatbelt she climbs over the center console so we're both in my seat. She maneuvers me onto her lap and wraps me tightly in a hug. One hand rests firmly behind my head, her fingers weaving through my hair. The other one is around my waist, encircling me like a warm blanket. She's whispering things to me, little reassurances that it will be okay. I sniffle and sob, but get better with each passing second. There's something about her arms around me that makes the pain hurt a less; that makes me feel loved and special and safe all at once. It's something I haven't felt in a long time, and I've certainly never felt it to this degree.

We sit in a comfortable silence for a few more moments before she whispers, "Better?"

I nod like a small, frightened child still clinging onto her. "Enough."

"That's all I was hoping for," she chuckles, giving me a kiss on the top of the head, sending tingles all over my body. She wiggles out from under me and goes back over to her seat, leaving me feeling cold and lonely, even though, she's right there.

"Yeah, I'll be okay," I tell her. And for the first time, I really think it's a possibility. I really think I can get over it. Get over them. Get over her.

It was the middle of our junior year on a Friday night. Luke and his boyfriend James were out on a date, so it was just me and Elle. We decided to have a sleepover. Neither of us had a boyfriend; it wasn't like we hadn't had any offers. Both of us had been asked out at least twice, but we couldn't find any boys we were even remotely attracted to.

About a month earlier, I had started to wonder if I could be gay. I found myself looking at the female leads in the movies instead of males. I didn't have a crush on Carl Bartney, the baseball captain at Harbor Hills who every girl swooned over. Someone told me that any girl that didn't get turned on by Carl Bartney was gay. And I was starting to believe that person.

Especially when it came to Elle.

When Luke got a boyfriend, Elle and I spent more time together without him. I was always there to listen to her stories about the latest guy to ask her out and all the reasons she turned him down, and I would be jealous at first and then relieved that she didn't accept his offer. That made me wonder, too, But I didn't want to be gay. My mom spent most of her time preaching to me about how evil gay people were, and rarely even spoke to Luke or let him in the house. Usually she would kick him out, and he and James were definitely NOT allowed to be in here together.

But I couldn't help myself. It took a month, but I finally admitted to myself that I liked Elle in that way. In my scared mind, that didn't make me gay, though. I just romantically liked my female best friend.

It was that sleepover in the middle of junior year, that it all changed. Elle and I were in my room watching Titanic. It was one of our favorites; we had a rule that we would watch it once during every sleepover. We were both on my bed; lying at the edge of it with our heads on our pillows.

Titanic was the third movie we'd watched that night. The other two had been Gone With the Wind and Legally Blonde. We were in a romantic mood that night; we generally were, since neither of us had any real romance.

"Hey, Elle?"

She pulled her head off the pillow and looked at me sleepily. "Hmm?"

"Have you ever wondered how Luke must've felt?" I asked.

She wrinkled her nose. Ever since Luke came out and got a boyfriend, Elle had been acting a bit weird towards him despite her initial reaction that she didn't care if he was gay. Both me and Luke sensed the growing divide between the two of them, no doubt induced by her mother's craziness. "What do you mean?"

"Well, there are all these movies about guys and girls falling in love, but how many realistically portrayed gay characters are there out there?" I continued. "It must be had, I mean. To see all these straight people in relationships, and no one like you. I bet it could make you feel pretty lonely."

Elle looked contemplative for a moment. "I guess. But I don't even think that Luke's really into that stuff."

"What stuff?" I snort. "Gay characters? He is gay, after all."

"I don't know... I mean, James doesn't seem like a good guy..." She trailed off and I gave her a strange glance.

"What's been up with you and Luke lately?" I asked. "Ever since he came out, things have been weird."

"I just don't know if he should be going out with James," she mumbled.

"Why?"

"I don't like him." I raised my eyebrows at her and shot my best piercing stare. "He's just... Luke shouldn't be gay."

I sat shocked for a moment before I could find it in me to respond. "Why the hell not? It's not like he can pick and choose. It's just the way he is."

"He shouldn't act on it."

"What's up with you?" I was disappointed and disgusted with her behavior. "You've been listening to your mom too much. There's nothing wrong with Luke. He's found someone he likes a lot, so I say more power to him. So what if it's another guy?"

"Because it makes it real." I could see tears beginning to form in her eyes as she slumped her head back onto the pillow. "If he's gay, it becomes real. It's okay."

"And what's wrong with that?" I was thoroughly confused by that point and wondered what Elle was thinking.

"Because then it's real. It's something that can happen to anyone. Even... me."

Comprehension dawns on me. "But it can't be real for me, it just can't." She was talking about her mom; her evil, bigoted mom, who probably kick Elle out of the house if she was gay. And by the way she was talking, she was gay.

I was trying not to do a happy dance inside; maybe we could be together. Maybe my unrequited love just became mutual. Maybe. "Look, Elle, love is real. Boy or girl, straight or gay. It's real for whoever feels it. And honestly, I've been having similar thoughts lately."

She lifts her head up and looks directly into my eyes. No words were needed as I moved closer to her, my body acting on something my brain didn't authorize. I reached to tentatively touch her hair and move it to the side so I could see her entire face. In that moment, it felt like I was really seeing her- seeing her beauty- for the first time.

When she didn't flinch or pull away, I took that as a cue to keep going. I leaned forward, getting slower the closer I got. Our faces were barely an inch away from each other when she closed the distance, meeting my lips.

Speechless.

Beautiful.

Powerful.

Innocent.

The words I would use to describe that kiss. The kiss that literally took my breath away. She lightly put her hand on my shoulder and pulled me towards her. We kept kissing like that, in the sweetest way possible, for as long as we had air. I couldn't tell you now how long it was. But however long it was, it felt so amazingly long like eternity, but when we stopped, it didn't feel like it had gone on long enough.

We just looked at each other for a while after that in silence. Titanic played on in the background, but neither of us listened. Neither of us paid attention. We were too focused on each other; on the moment, the passion, the innocence.

"Wow," she chuckled nervously, but in a good way. "That was... that was... it... I can hardly process... can we just do it again?"

I smiled and leaned over, recapturing her lips. And after about twenty more minutes of soft, sweet, exploratory kisses, we fell asleep, snuggled together, the final scenes of Titanic playing like white noise.