i forgot to mention that the rest of the chapters will be told in third-person (it'll make sense later). everyone say bye bye, narrator maddie! :)

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Futile. This was fucking futile.

At least, that's what their friends had said as Maddie and Carson went through the effort of keeping their college decisions a complete secret from one another and avoiding the topic like it was the Black Death for months on end.

Luna had told Maddie it was better to know than not to, and Jason had said that she'd find out eventually, so now was better than later. Dylan had told Carson that if this was something big enough to change anything between them it would be better for him to know, and Zach had agreed, arguing that it shouldn't even matter if they loved each other, anyway.

Yet, neither of them listened, for whatever reason. Maybe it was hope, maybe it was naiveté, and maybe, more likely than not, it was stubbornness that kept them from listening to their friends. Even if they were right: this was fucking futile.

"You seem tense," He remarked, sliding the freshly-brewed mug of coffee across the table to her as he settled down in the opposite seat of her.

"I am tense," She responded, welcoming the warmth of the cup against her palms as she pulled the coffee mug closer, like it was some sort of life line. She hadn't realized her leg had been shaking until Carson's hand fell to her thigh, gently pressing down and willing her leg to stop moving. His eyes remained on hers, anchoring her to him.

"I love you," He promised, a futile effort to calm her down.

"I know," Maddie responded, followed by a sigh to release some of her nervous energy. She quieted for a moment, studying Carson's face– the set of his jaw, the straight line of his lips, the sincerity in his eyes; his hands folded neatly on the table, his shoulders pushed back, his chest stiffly expanded as if he was holding in a breath, afraid it would be his last.

"Why don't you look nervous?" She asked.

Carson shrugged, "We've known since January, Maddie. We've stalled all this time, but we always knew this would happen– it's what we agreed on, anyway."

"I suppose," She responded. "On some level, I thought putting it off would make it better."

"Me too."

Carson reached down into his bag and pulled out a white folder. He regarded it with something between remorse and uncertainty before placing it face down on the table and slowly sliding it across the table to Madeline. He glanced at Madeline before nodding towards her bag, which remained unopened and untouched at her feet. Reluctantly, she reached down and took out a large envelope. She barely spared it a glance before shoving it in his direction, looking away for a brief moment before letting her eyes return to Carson's.

They sat quietly, motionlessly– just staring at each other and silently willing the other to speak or move first. Neither did.

Both of them turned at the sound of feet shuffling nearby. Dylan, half-awake and half-dressed, trudged into the kitchen with heavy eyes and loose-fitting pajama bottoms that were on the brink of slipping down his hips.

He paid no mind to the couple sitting at the kitchen table as he headed directly for the fridge, letting out a loud yawn on the way. He stared into the refrigerator for a long moment, his arm hanging lazily over the door, before finally settling on a green apple.

After taking a large bite, he closed the fridge door haphazardly. Finally he turned around and took notice of Madeline and Carson, who were watching him curiously. Dylan took another bite of his apple, eyes moving back and forth between the two as he studied them.

With a loud gulp, he commented, "You guys look ridiculous."

Both Maddie and Carson looked frustrated by his remark, the latter glaring at his best friend and the former rolling her eyes.

"Would you put on a shirt?" Carson asked, a hint of anger in his tone.

Dylan shook his head, before pointing at the ground with his index finger. "My house."

"Remind me again why we decided to do this here," Maddie muttered loud enough for Carson to hear, but low enough to hide it from Dylan.

"Dylan's house is neutral territory," Carson answered, although it was apparent he had begun to regret the decision. "He won't pick sides, and, good or bad, we both have to leave anyways."

Dylan strolled over to the island, standing behind it and resting his weight on his forearms as he observed the two at the table like this was The Ellen Show and he was the live audience. Maddie held back a groan of annoyance as Dylan took another bite from his apple, with such an obnoxiously loud chomp that he had to be doing it on purpose.

Carson resorted to ignoring him, determined to not let Dylan's presence disrupt this– whatever this was. He turned his back to the other man and drew his full attention back to Madeline.

"We don't have to do this today," He addressed her calmly, as if it wasn't already too late, and whatever they did now wouldn't change anything. Maddie glanced down at the papers on the table; waiting any longer would be futile, and they both knew it, too. "We can wait– another week or two," He continued, his voice wavering with the last words as even he found them to be false.

"Oh my God," Dylan groaned from the audience section of the kitchen, throwing his head back with impatience. "Just open them. Stop being so dramatic."

"Dylan, get out," Carson demanded without turning to face him– his eyes were resolutely devoted to Maddie's. The way he was looking at her so intensely, with anger directed at someone else, prompted her to look away. Her eyes shifted over to Dylan uncertainly, but he hadn't caught her looking.

Dylan pulled himself away from the island, slowly meandering on his way to leave the kitchen. "I'm just saying: you guys can keep postponing this all you want, but, eventually, you will have to talk about it. It'll just weigh on you until then."

Maddie and Carson remained silent, determined to not concede to his logic until after he had left them be. With lazy footsteps, Dylan made his way out of the kitchen, leaving his two best friends to contemplate what he had said. "I'll be upstairs," His muffled voice came as he disappeared around the corner. "If this ends in you two fucking, please be courteous enough to use the guest room in the basement this time."

Once Dylan could no longer be heard yawning his way up the stairs, Maddie relented. "He's right again."

"I know," Carson sighed, all but rolling his eyes at the notion. "It doesn't make it any easier to come to terms with."

"Maybe we just rip it off like a band-aid? We both open them at the same time?"

"Okay," He agreed.

Maddie hesitantly grabbed the folder in front of her while Carson took the envelope in between his hands. She glanced at Carson once, savoring his face, before falling back to the folder. She flipped it open and pulled out the thick paper sitting in the right pocket. It didn't take her long to find the name of the school on his acceptance letter; it had been written in bold, making it official, permanent– irreversible.

She nearly dropped the paper as she looked back up at Carson with wide eyes. Maddie watched wordlessly as he flipped the paper in his hands, examining the blank side like he wanted some further explanation for the front side.

"Carson?"

"Stanford," He said, finally looking at her again, the softness in his voice nearly breaking her. "You're going to California."

"You're staying on the East Coast."

"DC, that was always the plan," He responded, looking distracted. "You're going to California?"

She responded in the same distracted manner. "It was always Stanford. Since I was little– you're going to DC?"

Carson looked away, his eyes focusing on the empty table, and his front teeth clamped down on his bottom lip. "When do you leave?"

"The first of August," She responded. "I'm leaving early for a first-year orientation program."

His hand had moved over his mouth, fingers gently pulling at his skin, as he hid his face away from her. His disappointment, however, was still blatantly obvious– it was written all over him. The disappointment had caused his breath to stagger, and made his brows dip and his shoulders taut.

"Carson?"

"Where do we go from here?" His voice was grainy, and when he finally brought his eyes back up, they weren't as hard or reserved as they once had been. There was nothing threatening about his stare, but it was just as intense as before.

Where do we go from here?

The question echoed through her head and the vulnerability in his tone had etched itself into her brain.

Where do we go from here?

She didn't have an answer, but maybe she should have. Carson and her were different in every way but one; she knew all too well that the chances they would have ended up remotely close together were slim to none.

Where do we go from here?

She couldn't find an answer. All of her senses, her emotion, her logic, her everything was flooded by reality and heartache. All she had were more questions.

Where do we go from here?

How did they end up here? How had she ended up in the position where the person she hated the most was now the person she was most scared of leaving?

Where do we go from here?

She had never meant for it to get this complicated, or this confusing. So, when had she slipped? How could she have started loving him? Why did she let herself?

Where do we go from here?

Carson had never changed, that was a fact inherent to her. He has always been the same– green eyes that could catch and lips that could kill, and, beneath the looks and bravado it was more of the same, charms that had caught and a heart that kills.

She hadn't started loving him because he changed, and certainly not because she had changed. She hadn't started loving him because she stopped hating him, either.

Where do we go from here?

Maybe the answer was really that simple. Maybe it had to be just as it was before.

Where do we go from here?

Maddie lowered her head, a wave of guilt and remorse keeping her from meeting his eyes. "This is it, Carson. This is where we end."

"No."

"No?"

"I'm sorry," He shook his head. "I don't accept it. No."

"This is what we agreed upon."

"No, that is what you just decided." His voice deepened with anger. "We agreed to not talk about colleges until we had committed– that was the deal. I've told you before, you do not just get to decide when we end. What happens now should be a discussion."

"What is there to talk about?" She asked, raising her tone. "We're going to be in different time zones– that doesn't really make for a good relationship."

He looked at her scornfully as he bit the inside of his cheek. He shook his head, "That's not enough of a reason."

"Yes, it is, Carson."

"No, it's not. Give me a real reason, Madeline– an honest one."

"What do you want me to say?" She exclaimed, shooting out of her seat as the heat of the argument brought color to her cheeks. He stood with her, determined to match her, determined to vie her, determined to fight her.

"Something fucking real."

"What about this isn't real? We're going to be thousands of miles apart. I don't want to live wondering what you're doing, or choosing between you and-" She paused.

"And what?" He grit out. "Finish."

"I just– I don't want either of us to miss out on any opportunities that might arise."

"Of for fuck's sake, Madeline," He said, the muscle in his jaw ticking. "If sex is the best reason you can give me–"

"It's not just sex, Carson. I meant that about everything. Football games, parties, trips, internships, jobs. I don't want either of us to be limited by each other."

"I don't get how our relationship would be limiting us in any way."

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I don't know how to explain it, then."

"You better find a way."

If she wasn't used to Carson's anger streak or brash ways, she might have flinched, or at least been frightened in some way. But she wasn't. Instead, she was shocked– it had been a long time since he had spoken to her this way. Sure, they had fights, they fought all the time– hell, half of their relationship was fighting. But not like this. Never like this.

"I just- I just want to be free, Carson."

His eyebrows raised and his mouth parted soundlessly. He stared at her confoundedly before working up the courage to ask, "Do I make you feel trapped?"

"No," She responded quickly. "No, that's not what I meant. I just mean– well, I don't know. We're teenagers Carson, I want to see what the rest of the world is like before I get comfortable with where I am."

"I'm not asking you to settle down where you are, Madeline. I'm not asking you to do anything other than love me."

Maddie pushed away from the table, her hands balling into fists as the frustration got the better of her. She paced around the room, struggling to maintain calm, fully aware that Carson was watching her every move.

"I don't want to do this, Carson," She said finally. "I don't want to end on bad terms."

"Then explain to me why you're so desperate for us to end. Give me something that I can't argue with you over."

Madeline shook her head with something spiteful in the way she looked at him. "I've already given you my reason. It's up to you whether or not you respect it. If I get to decide when we end, you can decide how."

"Fuck off," He scoffed. "Was this how it would always play out?"

Her eyes gleamed with wrath. "Don't even go there."

"No. It was always going to end like this."

"That's not true, Carson."

"Yes, it is," He insisted, a mix of emotions riddling his face as he moved closer to her. Anger was within his narrow eyes and the set of his jaw, and incredulity made his brows knit together and lips curl down. "You have always been scared of commitment, and college is your way out."

"Stop it, Carson," Her voice wavered as the lump in her throat grew larger, hot tears blurring her vision. "We already discussed this– I told you I would pick my school over you!"

"This isn't picking a school over me, Madeline!" He exclaimed. "This is you picking a life without me in it."

"And maybe that's for the best! I don't want a life planned out for me before I've even lived."

"I'm not asking you to do that!"

"Well, that's what it feels like!"

The words fell from her lips before she could bring her hand up to stop them. Her fingers clasped onto her lips, and her eyes widened regretfully. She watched as Carson's demeanor changed, a minor falter in his step backwards.

She used her hand to roughly wipe away the stray tear that had begun rolling down her cheek, hoping that it had gone unnoticed by Carson– it hadn't. They stared at each other, struggling to find something to say next, something that would make Maddie's words sting less, something that would make the words feel like less of death sentence than they had.

Carson turned his body away from her and ducked his head, afraid to be caught feeling something other than anger. But she knew him well enough to catch the small snuffle that meant he was on the verge of crying, too. Madeline wrung her hands in front of her, fidgeting with them in any way that kept her from accidentally reaching toward him, certain of being pushed away.

She sighed, running another anxious hand through her hair. "Carson, I know this isn't easy-"

"Easy?" He questioned, lifting his head to look at her. "When has it ever been easy, Maddie? When has anything about us ever been remotely easy? Do you honestly think that loving you is easy for me?"

He paused with a humorless laugh and looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to respond, only continuing when she remained silent. "Loving you is the hardest thing I have ever had to do because half of the time I hate you. Hell, all of the time I hate you. I hate you when you drive because I swear one day you'll end up dead. I hate you when you get so drunk that you lose control of yourself and you forget who you are. I hate you when you don't answer my calls and I hate you when you're not in my bed at night. I hate that you forget to lock your car at night, and I hate that you see the best in people, even the ones that don't deserve your time. I hate that you're my best friend, and I hate that I can't look at another girl, or anyone else for that matter, without thinking of you. I hate that while I am fighting to keep us together, you are fighting to break us apart, and more than all of that, I hate you because I'm so fucking in love with you that it hurts to breathe."

He paused for a moment to catch his breath, desperation shining in his watery eyes. "You make it hard to breathe, Madeline. That is how much I love you, and all I ask is that you let me."

Neither of them said anything for a long time, as if salivating this final argument. Both of them knew. Both of them knew a long time ago. They knew it the second they sat down at the table, they knew it two weeks ago when they decided to wait again, they knew it months ago at that lake when they finally stopped fighting about it. They knew it on their first date, and the first time they kissed. They knew it the first time they talked, and the day they met. They always knew it: they were always going to end, and they would do it in flames.

Carson stormed across the room, pushing himself into Maddie as his hands found their way to the sides of her face. Before either of them could do anything about it, his lips were on hers, a final attempt at keeping her with him. She didn't stop him and was certain she did not want to. One of her hands moved down his chest, and the other up to his hair and she pulled him in closer like nothing had been changed between them. She focused on the feeling of him– his lips, his breath, his hands, his tongue, his love. It was all there, beckoning her to stay even though it was a kiss goodbye.

It was a long time before she found the courage to pull away a minuscule amount, and it was mostly because she had run out of breath. She rested her forehead against his, not daring to meet his eyes, and waited for him to say something first. He didn't.

She cleared her throat, "That was the last-"

"Don't say it," He whispered, his arms tightening around her waist. Futile. It was all futile.

"Okay," She sighed, her hand smoothing over his chest. "But it was."

"I don't want to stop loving you, Madeline," He whispered, his thumb running over her tear-stained cheek. "I don't know how to not love you."

She managed a small, sad smile. "We never made good, platonic friends."

"No," He agreed. "Never."

She sniffled, and brought a hand up to her nose, roughly brushing it. "We can try, can't we?"

He shook his head, "I can't, Madeline. I can't be your friend."