Wow, I absolutely can't believe that we're here, at the end of act one! This will be the last chapter for college days babes, making way for the 2013/2014 vessel babies.

Would you guys rather me stick to Jamilla's point of view for consistency(and experience) or experiment with Josh's point of view for act two?

||Jamilla Tate|| First Person ||

When I pictured the day that I would leave Columbus behind, I imagined a lot of things would happen.

On a perfect day, I would manage to pack up the rest of the belongings that I could take with me without garnering any attention. I would wait for Becca to leave the room for her dinner date, and in the span of an hour, I would take all of my clothes and stuff them into my duffel bags. I would leave a particular set of bed sheets that I would put on that morning behind-- the one that Scarlet Evans had gifted me on our first day when she noticed that I had nothing else to use. I would leave behind everything that I couldn't carry out of Park-Stradley hall in one move; I would leave behind my friends, I would leave behind my extra clothes, and I would leave behind Josh Dun. Josh wouldn't notice me passing by his room because he would be gone to the music store, like he had told me, so that he could practice a bit more. The others, Scarlet and Tara, would be in the lounge as usual, meaning that I could evade them with ease.

I would leave them the way I had left my parents-- I would leave them without looking back, and I would leave them before they could hold me back.

The evening before my perfectly orchestrated escape, Garrett Mason wandered into Park-Stradley Hall, intent on locating me. He finds me by the vending machines where, after finding an extra three dollars in my backpack, I began to glance over my options hungrily. I can smell his cologne before he even speaks, alerting me of his presence instantly.

"Hi," he says awkwardly, his hands tucking into the pockets of his jeans almost immediately. I look over at him, taking in his disheveled appearance quickly. The soft waves of his golden hair stick up at the oddest of ends, the wind swept strands framing his defined face gorgeously. I don't deny that Garrett is still one of the most undeniably attractive guys I have ever met, but something within myself doesn't allow me to feel as strongly for him as I did before. Pity bubbles inside me, consuming whatever contempt for him that had started to sprout.

"What's up?" I huff out indifferently, turning away from him to look back at the snacks hiding behind the vending machines' glass. I can tell that he doesn't expect me to act as disinterested with him as I do now. He shuffles his feet awkwardly, the soles of his shoes making unpleasant sounds against the carpeted floor.

"I miss you." He blurts out almost immediately, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment when he realizes what he's said. I cringe visibly, all too aware of where this conversation would go. Garrett and I could have this discussion every day for the rest of our respective lives, and he still wouldn't be able to get his head around it.

"I don't." I retort, clenching my jaw. Though my words are partially a lie, I mean it when I say that I don't miss Garrett Mason. I miss the shy boy that I met in Thompson library a lifetime ago, I miss the boy that would toss popcorn in my mouth from across the room with ease and precision. I miss the boy that didn't make the single mistake of thinking that he had control over a girl that wanted nothing more than to fly.

"Ouch," he winces, running a hand through his messy hair. "I deserve that, I guess."

"You guess?" I scoff, turning to look over at him. Knowing that I'll be having to board a train back to Cleveland in a matter of hours gives me some sort of newfound confidence-- I'd never see him again, and I'll be damned if I don't make it known. "Why do you even bother anymore?" I ask him.

"I bother because you're worth holding on to." Garrett answers me, his eyes wide and full of boyish wonder and desire. His words are too quick to come by though, and I know that he's rehearsed that line a thousand times before. How many other girls did Garrett Mason lose to? "Jamilla--"

"The one good thing about going back to Cleveland," I start to say, "is that I won't have to see you anymore." I state this with conviction, crossing my arms over my chest daringly. Garrett falters for a moment under my harsh gaze, twisting on his heels to look over at me with an expression of disbelief.

"You don't mean that." He says, narrowing his eyes uncertainly.

"Maybe," I shrug my shoulders in response, turning back to glaring at the Coffee Crisp chocolate bar sitting pretty in the confines of the vending machine.

"You can't just go to Cleveland," Garrett says dejectedly, his right hand rubbing his chin nervously as he ponders the reality of my statement. "Jamilla, you came to Columbus for a--"

"Just stop it." I say through gritted teeth. "I don't need you lecturing me."

"Cleveland, Jamilla. Cleveland?" Garrett sighs heavily, rampantly running his fingers through his ruined hair. I try not to pay attention to it.

"What about Cleveland?" I hear someone ask. Suddenly distraught, I spin around instantly, only to come face to face with a curious Joshua William Dun who slows to a stop before us. He shoots Garrett a quizzical look. Josh's eyes narrow in on Garrett, recognizing him as the guy that I had broken up with just before the start of winter break, before clenching his fists instinctively. Garrett doesn't seem to quite realize this, instead still very much preoccupied with the incomprehensible fact that I would be leaving Ohio State.

"It's nothing." I say clearly, squaring my shoulders and hardening my jaw. Josh tilts his head, observing me for a short second before pointing to Garrett.

"Is he bothering you?" Josh asks. Before I can speak, I notice Garrett looking between the two of us with an indiscernible questioning in his gaze. I pause, waiting for the calm before the storm to be obliterated by the next words he speaks.

"He doesn't know, does he?" Garrett wonders, turning to look at me with an awe-struck expression. I don't respond, but my silence is an answer that Garrett Mason takes willingly. "You weren't going to tell him?" He inquires immediately afterwards, unsure of whether he's gained the upper hand or not until Josh opens his mouth and speaks.

"I don't know what?" Josh says daringly. Garrett turns to look at Josh, a small smirk toying at his lips when he observes him almost pitifully.

"I think dear Jami should let you know that one," he backs off then, slowly walking past Josh, who doesn't stop glaring at him until Garrett is a far enough distance away from the both of us to feel comfortable again. When Garrett is gone, Josh turns back to face me. Guilt immediately makes itself at home in the pit of my gut, the place where my conscience always seems to attack mercilessly. I want to lie to Josh like I always do, but the blatant remorse that my face projects to him leaves only a window for my honesty.

When was the last time that I didn't lie to Josh? Why couldn't I just tell him the truth?

"What's he talking about?" Josh doesn't f*ck around with it-- he gets straight to the point without dancing around the subject. I cross my arms over my chest instinctively, closing myself up to the boy that has always been open with me.

"Can we not?" I ask pathetically. Josh scoffs.

"Jami," Josh says testily.

"It's nothing, Josh, he's just talking out of his ass again--" I don't make eye contact with Josh despite the fact that he avidly attempts to make that connection with me. I look anywhere but at him, my gaze dancing from the overflowing bulletin board to the student laying face forward on the ground next to one of the couches. I rock back and forth on my heels, trying to ignore the very real terror that creeps underneath my skin the longer the conversation continues.

"Jamilla." He says again, but this time, something in his voice makes me freeze on the spot. It's this sort of anger that he utilizes when saying my name that makes my body seize up instantly. I clench my fists.

"What?" I hiss back.

"What about Cleveland?" He presses again, but when I don't say anything in return, he suddenly turns on his heel and begins to storm off.

"Josh!" I call out after him, but he doesn't stop walking away from me. Shooting one last glance behind me at the vending machine that brought all of these conspired events together, I hurry after him.

"Why is it so hard for you to tell me what's going on in your life, huh?" Josh shoves the door to the hallway open as he says this, punctuating the last word of his question with the door handle slamming against the wall. I wince as I follow after him, my heart thudding ceaselessly in my chest.

"Josh," I repeat.

"It's like the more I keep pushing, the more you just shut me out." Josh storms angrily down the mostly empty hallway, leaving me to shamefully follow after him in the hopes of calming him down. "Is it so hard for Jamilla Tate to be real?" He turns around as he says this, walking backwards for a moment as he throws his hands up into the air. I frown, refusing to respond to his direct attack.

"This is exactly what Garrett wants you to do, Josh." I tell him. "He wants us to fight--"

"Well maybe it's about damn time that we fight!" Josh skids to a halt finally, giving me his full and undivided attention as he glares at me. "You're supposed to trust me, Jamilla!"

"I'm sorry, Josh, but that's a little difficult for me to do!" I regret my words the moment that they come out, but I don't apologize for them. Josh squeezes his hands into a fist so tightly that his knuckles pale dramatically.

"It's always the same thing with you." Josh declares, his eyes no longer warm and welcoming like they used to be. "Why can't you just talk to me?"

"I can't!" I cry out. "I can't because nobody f*cking understands, okay, Josh?"

"I can try!" Josh shouts back at me. His face is burning red with frustration as he pulls back, staring at me for a moment without all of the animosity shadowed behind his irises. "I can try, Jamilla." He says in a quieter voice.

A girl walks by then, eyeing the two of us suspiciously as she passes. Josh doesn't say anything else as we wait for her to leave, and when she does, he speaks in a much lower tone than before. "Jamilla, I just want to know--"

"Stop it."

"Jamilla, for Go--"

"Stop it--"

"I just want to--"

"I'm going back to Cleveland," I finally shout at him, my eyes squeezing shut and my fingernails digging into my palms so harshly that I nearly break skin. My heart hammers dreadfully against my chest in the silence of the hallway, Joshua staying utterly silent. "My parents want me home and it's my only option, okay?" I cross my arms over my chest again, and Josh eyes me for a moment with pure betrayal written across his face. I want him to yell at me-- I want him to scream and fight and yell at me because all of that is easier to take than the silence. I finally understand why he wished I'd yell at him the morning after Halloween. It's an easier pill to swallow than the ignorance.

He takes one last look at me before he suddenly turns on his heel and walks off. I don't respond for a moment-- my brain doesn't register the fact that he's actually walking away from me again. Not after he finally heard what he'd been begging me to tell him, surely. None of it makes any sense to me. "Josh!" I call out after him desperately, but he doesn't turn back around. Instead, he disappears around the corner and keeps walking, leaving me the same way that Scarlet had me leave him what feels like decades ago. I stand there, trying to make sense of what just transpired, but after a while, I realize that I can't do that.

With an air of dejection enveloping me, I begin my dismal trek back down the hallway. Josh had headed in the opposite direction of our dorm rooms, allowing me the opportunity to head back to my room for my final evening in Ohio State University. Entering my devoid dorm, I plop down into one of Becca's bean bag chairs and sink into the strangely comfortable sacks. I stare at the sealed shut window, the curtain no longer flowing carelessly with the wind. I remember once finding a sense of comfort in the wild nature of the summer breeze gracing the white fabric-- it had been free. But now, in the dead of winter, the curtain is trapped in the stuffy room without a glimmer of summer in sight.

I had everything planned out. I was going to find a job immediately after arriving in Columbus and I would become the self-sufficient woman that I worked to be all throughout high school. I wouldn't need my parents and their need for total control over my life. I would finally make my own decisions and live the life that I deserved. It's funny how things never seem to work out the way that you'd like them to.

The rest of my evening goes by uneventfully-- I hide out in my room with my earphones in and a book to keep me company. Nobody is back yet, leaving me to my thoughts and regrets that effectively destroy what little happiness I planned on leaving Columbus with. When it's nearing 1 in the morning, I decide that it's safe to head back to the vending machines for my much needed snacks.

Sneaking out of my room without making a sound is easy-- Becca came in around 12:30AM and passed out on her bed without a word. The hard part is not running into Joshua, which is exactly what happens within mere seconds. The hard part is seeing him and not knowing what to do. I see him before I see anything else-- looking like he traveled through the steep depths of hell, he leans against the wall next to his door. It doesn't take a genius to recognize the fact that he's absolutely smashed. His eyes are drooping and it seems as if the menial task of staying upright is one that he can't achieve. Instinctively I want to help him, but then my eyes take notice of the person jamming his keys into the lock and I start to back off immediately.

"Come on, Joshie," Melodie says in a soft tone, her hand wrapping around Josh's wrist. The painful memory of her pulling Josh up the stairs during the Halloween party punches me straight in the gut. "Let's get you to bed, you poor baby," she turns her head upon noticing me, observing me with a disgusted snarl as she yanks Josh's unstable form after her. He looks at me, his lips parting when he recognizes me.

"Jamilla--" he wrenches his hand free from her grasp, stumbling back out into the hallway. I don't move, my feet frozen stuck to the ground as he approaches me. "There you are," he stops in front of me, almost losing his footing, before he points accusingly at me. "I hate you." He tells me, a small laugh bubbling at his lips as he speaks in a drunken stupor. "I hate you so damn much."

"Josh, get back here." Melodie demands. She turns to look at me, and though we've never had much of a positive relationship, she looks at me pitifully.

"No, I need her to know this." Josh says. "I need her-- you-- to know that you've ruined my life."

"Josh, you're drunk." My voice wavers as I speak, my fingers trembling at my sides.

"I'm free." He corrects me, a crooked smile spreading across his face. "I'm free now, because you're finally leaving and I'll never have to see you again." I look down at my shoes, trying my absolute best not to let the tears overwhelm me. "If only I never met you, Jami." He leans forward, his eyes bloodshot and his nose stuffy and pink. "I wish I didn't love you."

"Josh, stop it." My voice shakes stupidly as I cross my arms over my chest. "Just go to sleep."

"And then what?" He laughs dryly. "Go to sleep and then we can talk tomorrow?" When I don't answer him, he chuckles again, stumbling backwards. "Oh yeah, you'll be gone like you always are, and I'll be left wondering why the hell I ever thought you were perfect."

"I never said--"

"That's the problem, Jamilla!" Josh shouts out in exasperation. "You never say anything! You never talk to me!"

"That's because whenever I do, you shut me up!" I chew on my bottom lip in an attempt to keep it from trembling pitifully. "'Oh, it's okay Jami, you're beautiful so it doesn't matter that the entire f*cking world is crumbling.'"

"Go to hell." Josh spits venomously. I don't get the opportunity to respond then because Melodie is finally grabbing his arm and forcefully yanking him back inside before he can say anything else. The door slams shut in my face, and for a moment I can hear Josh yelling at Melodie for cutting him off. Then he stops and the drunken words are replaced by terrible sobs that I don't stay for. I turn back and head back for my dorm room, my appetite absent and my eyes throbbing with unshed tears.

        The next morning, when I'm at the station waiting for my train to arrive and take me back to Cleveland, my phone beeps. I'm sorry. It's pathetic. Josh doesn't try past that, and I vaguely imagine him laying in bed nursing a hangover with Melodie running her hands through his hair. He was going to forget me, and I was going to try to forget him.

        That was supposed to be the plan.

        But plans never work the way we'd like them to, do they?