Disclaimer: I don't own Austin and Ally.
He tossed around noisily on his bed. Shafts of moonlight streamed in through the window of his apartment, distracting him from his sleep. As if he wasn't trying to fall into at least a substantial sleep. Groggily, he raised his head. He glanced at the digital clock glowing on his nightstand. 3:15 am.
This was one of Austin's Moon's sleepless nights, only one of several about to come. He normally didn't wane this late into the night - sometimes even into the morning - but there was one haunting memory, one alluring vision that kept him awake for nights on end. A vision of certain brunette that he hadn't seen a glimpse of in ten years.
Ally Dawson.
Today was the day that marked ten years since her disappearance. And her death.
Even now, the name was still intact in his memory, like a picture from his childhood that he could never forget, no matter how many times he'd try to leave it behind. It was always there, somehow, preying at his mind.
"Ally, I wish you were here," he whispered hoarsely.
He could almost hear her mellifluous laugh, one that entranced him still to this day.
Tears pricked his eyes, threatening to fall. He screwed them shut. No. It's no use crying over her now. She's gone.
As he lay there in his bed, he let his mind drift back to the days when they were sixteen, during the peak of Austin's musical career. They would waste the days away, sitting on the quaint beach boardwalk, soaking in the summer air, and pointing out the beach walkers that streamed past. Other days, they'd spend their days in the security of the Sonic Boom practice room, tossing around song melodies, gliding their fingers around on the glossy piano keys, their hands occasionally touching. Those were the days Austin cherished.
There was one summer, however, that changed Austin and everyone in the town of Miami altogether.
:::
Ally vanished. Her whereabouts were unknown, at first, as the police tried not-so-effortfully to scope the town of Miami and nearby cities in search of the petite songwriter. Hell, she was the songwriter of Austin Moon. Ally was the reason Austin ever made it into the music industry. She was the reason he stood out. She was his spark, his catalyst, his model for what little good was in his life. They would find her if it was the last damn thing they did.
Austin had seen the police's efforts. They were of meager help, about as much help as a brick wall. He'd visit the police station every day, hoping for some-any-kind of news from the police, only to be met with the same devastating phrase, "We still have not found any evidence of Miss Dawson's whereabouts."
And every time, Austin would curse, slam a hand on the wall, and shout, "Dammit, if you spend as much time searching for Ally as you do sitting on your asses, you would've found her by now!"
Austin's close friends, Trish de la Rosa and Dez, made attempts to console Austin each time, but each and every time, Austin would break down and push away all means of comfort, and instead would waste the days away locked up in the Sonic Boom practice room, in an effort to conceal his languish through rather despondent songwriting. At the end of each day, the room would be strewn with crumpled song papers, each about Austin's longing distress for his missing puzzle piece, his Ally.
:::
Finally, one day, Austin's roof caved in. The roof that he had tried so hard to sustain, caved. After a day of stressful songwriting, each song more sorrowful than the last, Austin decided that he couldn't take the loss, the loss of his best friend, his reason of life. Action had be taken. Every time Austin dropped by the police station, the sheriffs would be sitting at their desks, laughing cheerfully, and sipping on their infinite cups of coffee. Every time, anger coursed through his veins. Why weren't they doing anything? he thought scornfully.
He knew he had to do something. He was losing his fans, his career was crumbling to dust every withering day that passed. His boss, Jimmy Starr, was already threatening to call bail on Austin's career. Yet, Austin made no move to recuperate. What was the point of moving on, when the one reason that kept you going was gone?
Vamoosed. Just like that.
He became secluded, like a widow without a heart. He floated through his empty estate, a ghost with dulled, blonde hair and empty eyes. His friends kept out of his way, the same with his family members. Austin lost all means of contact with the world, even abandoning his entire career he worked so hard for over past year. All that was just another thing he tossed aside, a small blow, minuscule compared to the sufferable blow of losing his best friend. His Ally Dawson.
Nobody had any idea what he was going through. Probably never will, anyway.
:::
It was a day before Austin's seventeenth birthday, when he received the painful news. Austin was locked up in his room of the Moon estate, listening to old records, when Dez knocked at his door. At first, Austin retaliated rather violently, shouting a stream of obscenities at the intruder. After a moment's recollection, Austin let him in.
"Austin-" Dez shook his head, his voice thick with grief. "I have news, man, but I don't think it's news you'll want to hear."
"What is it?" Austin demanded, grabbing his best friend by the shoulders. "God, Dez, what is it it? It's...it's about Ally, isn't it?" his brows furrowed, his grip tightening on Dez's shoulders, his knuckles turning to almost white.
Dez expression was grievous, one of sorrow and pity. "Bro, it is about Ally…"
"But what…" It took a moment for the boy to fully comprehend the situation. Dez's pained expression, the fact that Ally had been gone for nearly a year…
"No." Austin shook his head, almost violently, harshly letting go of his best friend's shoulders. "No, no, it's not true. She can't be dead, she just can't! She-she promised she'd live for me! We had a life together, this life! She can't be gone! She can't!" his voice had rose several octaves, breaking slightly at the last word.
"Austin, you have to understand-" Dez began weakly.
"What's there to understand?" he shouted. "The only person I love, the only person I care about, is dead! Don't you get it, Dez? I'll never be able to talk to her, laugh with her, or write songs with her! You'll never understand! You never understood my pain while she was gone! And you won't get it now!"
Austin roughly shoved him aside, and sped down the stairs of the estate and out the door, into the fresh Miami air. By this time, silent tears slipped down his face. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to force the hot tears back in. The boy had suffered a grievous blow. He didn't know where he was running to, or why, but he knew one thing:
Wherever Ally was, she couldn't be reached.
:::
He buried his head into his pillow, ready to fight off whatever tears he had left. But there were none. He had run out of reasons to grieve.
That was ten years ago. Ten painful, sorrowful, empty years. At the time, it seemed as if though Austin's life had ended, permanently. He'd managed to recover over a course of six months, but he could never manage to fully heal the wound. Now, at 26, Austin still hadn't filled in the hole in his heavy heart, the deep hole that, no matter how many dirt was tossed into it, would always remain empty. The hole that only one person could fill.
And that was his Ally Dawson.
This is what I get for attempting to write angst at 3 in the morning. Review? It would be appreciated :)