notes: a large dollop of auslly that ranges from humor to angst to romance to humor again, because i can never make up my damn mind. anyway. these two will literally not leave me alone. i hate them. i really do. just kidding. i'm not kidding.
WARNINGS: mentions of & descriptions of severe depression in a side character + suicide, so if you are easily triggered i with all my heart advise you not to read. also idk recreational drug use and also drug dealing whoops
all the roads you took led back to me
we drew a map to a better place/ but on that road i took a fall - maps, maroon 5
She arrives on a Thursday.
Ally knew California was going to be hot, but nobody warned her that it was going to be so hot she would fall asleep against a wood post on the boardwalk within two hours of arriving, resulting in utter humiliation and also the second worst sunburn of her life. Even worse than that time in eighth grade when she decided that zero sunscreen plus the entirety of her mother's tanning oil would equal unparalleled success.
Plus, she was super tired. The direct flight from Miami to San Diego was certainly not her finest hour (finest six hours, actually, if we're going to be accurate). Going to the beach directly after dropping her bags off at the apartment sans sunscreen was probably not the smartest idea, either, but it's not like she expected to doze off.
On all ends of the spectrum, her first day in California is going the exact opposite of what Ally had been hoping for.
The only solution is to return to the tiny rented apartment, slather herself in aloe, turn on the television to a movie marathon on AMC and lie on the couch for a few days until she can turn her head without feeling like somebody is stabbing her in the neck with a fork.
It certainly isn't how she'd prefer to spend her first few days in sunny California, but at least the view is nice.
By Monday, Ally resembles...well, not quite an overcooked lobster anymore, so that's good news. Five days in and things are finally looking up after several days of lying on the couch, only moving to answer the door to accept her Chinese takeaway.
Normally, she'd take this sunburn as a sign that she should stay indoors for a while, but this is California, for christ's sake, and the endless blue skies and crashing waves and palm trees swaying in the warm summer breeze are beckoning her. Ally is feeling adventurous, but not stupid, so she applies three coats of sunscreen, wincing at the sharp pain from her skin, still a little red and very tender. She is fragile, like a little flower or an iPhone.
When she steps foot onto the boardwalk this time, it is with a sense of purpose and also a sun hat (because you can never be too safe.)
It's beautiful, Ally thinks, and just what she's been dreaming of. It's noisy and crowded and hot and the opposite of peaceful and remote but it's everything she needs. She can get lost here in a sea of people, in the tiny vintage shops that line the boardwalk and the sunsets on the beach.
Three hours later, her feet are aching, she's made a hypothetical wishlist that totals something like five grand, and she's more at peace than she's been in months. The only things that could possibly make this day better are a cute boy and a smoothie.
She gets one and half of those two things. (Because cute boys aren't as cute when they're dicks.)
It starts with the smoothie shop.
There's around six million smoothie shops on this boardwalk, give or take, and as fate would have it she picks the one called Sonic Boom because the music is so loud she can hear it from ten shops down and it's got barstools, and Ally kind of has a thing for barstools.
She knows she's made a terrible, terrible mistake when she sees him behind the counter - blonde, with broad shoulders and a cocky smile. He's gorgeous, but he also resembles the rare species known as Every Douchebag in Miami. He's exactly the kind of boy Ally wants to avoid, because even though he'd probably be awesome at pinning her to the wall and kissing her neck, she's not interested in spending her Summer of Healing listening to some asshole talk about himself.
As soon as Ally makes a move to leave, because she really doesn't want to deal with this guy, they make eye contact.
Well, fuck.
"Wicked sunburn!" He's laughing then, all stupid pearly white teeth and blonde hair falling into his stupid eyes. Stupid boy. Ally turns to go, telling him to keep the money and forget about it when, much to her pleasant surprise, Stupid Boy hops over the counter and reaches out to touch her arm. "Hey, sorry. I was only teasing. Mostly." He pulls his hand away when Ally hisses in pain. Stupid, stupid boy. "And, uh. Sorry about that, too." He holds up his hands in surrender and steps back a little, as if he's trying to keep himself from doing any more damage. Interestingly enough, this time his smile seems genuine; lopsided and a little embarrassed.
"...Okay, fine. I forgive you, but only because I want my smoothie and if I leave now I won't get to report you for harassing me, an innocent customer." A laugh bubbles up and escapes her lips when he glares at her; if Ally didn't know any better she'd think he was going to deck her. "Oh, but I'm only teasing. So funny, right?" She smirks.
"Just remember who's handling who's food here." Stupid Boy gives Ally the most shit-eating grin before turning around to grab sherbert out of one of the coolers against the wall. Ally kind of wants to strangle him.
Another worker comes in, giving Stupid Boy the opportunity to come bother Ally even further whilst her smoothie blends.
"So, where are you from?" He asks, as if all their previous intersections have simply been forgotten. Ally proceeds to ignore him; she sighs, bored, and rests her chin on her fist. "Come on, don't be like that. I said I was sorry." Stupid Boy is pouting now, and it's kind of awesome, having this stupid hot idiot practically begging at her feet.
Just as he's about to turn away with an over dramatic, dejected sigh, she responds. "Miami."
"Ah." He raises his eyebrows. "So... You left the beach and palm trees for... The beach and palm trees? Was the humidity that bad?"
"It's more complicated than that. More...personal. You wouldn't get it," Ally mutters, fiddling with her hands in her lap and suddenly feeling much too vulnerable.
"Oh." Stupid Boy's brow furrows in surprise and concern. "Okay. Hey, I understand. Sorry I said anything."
Ally's face softens. "It's alright. There's no way you could have known."
A few beats of silence pass between them before Ally says quietly, "I think my smoothie is done."
Stupid Boy blinks at her a moment. "Oh! Yeah, sorry about that." And there's that dumb lopsided grin again. He's actually kind of charming in a weird, stupid boy kind of way.
"Thank you..." Ally pauses, eyes glancing at his name tag. Austin. "Thank you, Austin," she tells him as he hands her the smoothie, smiling sincerely and standing up to leave. She wants to soak up as much of the warmth outside as possible. With that, she offers Austin a little wave and walks out.
"Wait!" Austin is gripping the edge of the counter like he's going to jump over it again. "You didn't even tell me your name."
Ally bites the inside of her cheek to try to contain her grin, pausing in the doorframe. "I'm Ally. See you around, hotshot."
Despite every part of her brain telling her not to, Ally finds herself at the smoothie shop the very next day.
She doesn't see Austin anywhere, so she bums around by the counter for a few minutes before giving in and ordering something. She's a quarter of the way through her smoothie when the door swings open, bell jingling cheerily.
"Yo, sunburn girl!"
Ally snorts and whips around, coming face-to-chest with Austin. She has to take a big step backwards in order to look him in the eye.
"'Sunburn girl?' Really? I knew I shouldn't have come back. As much as I love smoothies, it's certainly not worth it." Playfully, she grins and turns to leave. Just as she expected, Austin rushes past her to block her.
"I'm only kidding. Again. Hi, Ally from Miami."
"When do you get off from work?" She winces as soon as the words leave her mouth.
Austin smiles coyly. "I have to warn you, Ally from Miami; I have a girlfriend." He continues quickly when Ally gives him an and I should care why? look. "Anyway! I work the evening shift; I don't start until five. I just showed up because I figured you'd be here." Before Ally can retaliate, Austin continues, "Wanna go down to the beach?"
Ally is so stunned she doesn't even know what to say, so she says, "Alright."
Not ten minutes later they're both sitting side by side in the sand, Ally sitting on top of Austin's jacket that he so graciously laid out for her. She'd tried to decline, not because it was a nice jacket or anything, but because Austin may be dumb and sort of hot but he's still a strange boy in an unfamiliar place she knows next to nothing about.
"So," Austin says, breaking the silence as he playfully nudges Ally with his foot. Ally lets him know just what she thinks of that by slapping his foot away. She's not going to let him get any ideas. Frowning, Austin withdraws his foot, pouting like a child. Suddenly, his face brightens. "Can I ask you stuff? Like, about you?"
Ally laughs despite herself, because here she is with the most gnarly tan lines ever, sitting on the beach with some stupid blonde smoothie boy she just met yesterday but still insisted she sit on his jacket instead of the sand, and he's asking for permission to ask her questions.
"Okay," she says finally, "I have to warn you in advance, though - I am wholly uninteresting."
Austin snorts. "I've known you for less than a day and I already highly doubt that. Anyone who can not only show their face with that bad if a sunburn but go back in the fucking sun is alright with me."
Ally shoots him a glare and if looks could kill, Austin would be dead in the trunk of her car while she digs a grave in the woods. "Can we please stop talking about my sunburn? It hurts even more when I talk about it."
"Sorry about that." Austin cringes but recovers fairly quickly. "So, Ally from Miami," he begins again. "What brings you to the sunshine state? Did you come with your family? Your friends? Your boyfriend? Or girlfriend, I dunno."
Ally huffs. "I already told you why I came here - that's none of your business." She hesitates for a moment, considering lying, decide not to. Austin might be an ax murderer, but he's cute and if he is crazy Ally knows how to protect herself. She's been overly paranoid ever since she watched Forensic Files every night as a child. "And no; I came alone."
"Okay. How old are you?"
"These questions are getting awfully intrusive. If you plan on cutting off my head, please know I have no qualms about screaming and kicking and making a huge scene if you try to drag me to your van. I will take you down."
Austin laughs, brown eyes gleaming. "You really are something else. Would it help if I told you a little bit about myself first?"
"For all I know, you could be lying," Ally says, making direct eye contact with Austin for the first time this entire conversation, then smiles faintly. "But yes, it would make me feel a lot better."
Austin grins back and Ally wonders if his face is just permanently stuck like that - crinkles by his eyes and huge, playful smile. She doesn't care. It's annoying, but it's also kind of nice.
"Okay," he says, leaning back. "So, I'm Austin Moon. I'm eighteen, but I'll be nineteen in a month. I was born and raised right here in California by my charming parents, who kicked me out last year. I make smoothies for a living and have another job on side. I like video games and the beach and I am not an ax murderer."
Ally's grin fades over the course of his monologue. "Why did your parents kick you out? Do you have your own place, then?"
For the first time, Austin's smile wavers. "You know that side job I mentioned? My parents found out and didn't like it too much, so, yeah. And where I live...I'd really rather not say." And Ally swears he's blushing.
"What kind of side job are we talking about here?" Ally raises a delicate brow at him. "Are you a prostitute?"
"God, no," Austin laughs hard at that, playfully shoving her.
"Do you kidnap people to harvest and sell their organs on the black market?"
"No, no! It's nothing like that, I promise."
"Then what is it?"
"It's a secret."
Ally isn't really afraid anymore; she's annoyed. "Please, please, please just tell me."
"I can't, sorry." Austin holds up his hands, stupid, shit-eating grin on his face. "See, we can both have secrets. Until you tell me why you came to California, I can't tell you what my side job is."
"But that's not fair! It's different, Austin; I can't tell you my thing because it's painful and it's personal. You just won't tell me your thing because you're a freaking dick who wants to blackmail me into telling you something I clearly don't want to."
And without another word, Ally stands, grabs her bag, throws Austin's sandy jacket at him, and marches off before he can stop her.
That night, Ally calls her father because she misses him and she's kind of lonely in this apartment all by herself and really, who else is she going to call?
"Hey, Als! How's California?" The familiarity of the nickname and the smile in his voice make her want to cry. For the first time in months, she wants to be at home. She wants to be home, in her own bed in her own room with her father in the next room and the awful new fake grass in the backyard that her mother never would have settled for.
"I'm okay, Dad. I got kind of a crappy sunburn my first day here - yeah, I know, it's kind of hilarious how fast I burn. I'm like a ghost. Anyway, it's been good." Ally paints the sunniest picture possible for her father, because he's got enough on his plate without having to worry even more about his little girl. "I do miss you, though."
"I miss you too, sweetheart," he says, and he sounds like he's about to cry, which makes Ally want to cry even more. "Once I get the rest of these payments made for...everything, you know, I hope I'll have enough to come visit you. Anything else new going on?"
Yes, Ally wants to say. Yes, everything is going on. I met a cute boy who has a big secret and wants to know all my secrets, and I want to tell him but I can't because I don't like getting close to people, and I have all these feelings inside me I feel like I'm just going to explode with them and I have nobody to share them with and I'm lonely and I want to come home but I don't. I don't know what I want.
Instead, she says, "No, not really."
"Alright, well, I love you, honey, and I hope you're doing well. Be safe. I love you. Hope to talk to you soon."
"Love you too, Dad."
Ally buries her face in the cushions and cries.
Ally has decided that, for both her sake and Austin's, she will not go back to Sonic Boom Smoothies. She spends the next week as far away from the shop as far as possible, and whenever she does happen to pass by, she definitely does not peer through the window looking for Austin until the place is completely out of view.
She keeps herself busy, she really does - she goes to the beach and tans (her sunburn is almost completely healed now) and catches up on some books and explores every nook and cranny of the apartment complex. She goes to the gym and runs on the treadmill until she sees stars - it clears her head and the feeling afterwards is worth the forty five minutes of complete hell.
The thing is, she kind of misses him - well, as much as you can miss a person you knew for less than a day who was annoying as hell for the most part and took great pleasure in embarrassing her.
But she's lonely, is the thing. Coming here was supposed to help her clear her head and start fresh but in her mother's absence spring stopped and summer started and Ally isn't growing anew like she should be.
(Once upon a time, Ally Dawson was born at five pounds, ten ounces to Penny and Lester Dawson on the the third floor of Miami Children's Hospital. There would have been two Dawson children preceding her, but both of them died inside her mother, so when Ally was born, small and pink and wailing, Penny wept and wept and held her newborn daughter tight, tipping her head to the ceiling and whispering, Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Ally was everything her parents had hoped she would be. Always smiling. Always happy. Always looking on the bright side. She was a cheerleader, a model student, and her parents' pride and joy. She was everything they had ever wanted for their child.
That didn't keep her mother from getting sick. Not sick in the conventional way people usually get sick; she didn't go into the hospital only to be told she had some terminal illness. Not that kind of sick.
Throughout the course of Ally's life, it was becoming increasingly clear that her mother was sick in the head. It began with the violent outbursts. At first it was funny; Ally would make inside jokes with her father about her mother turning into the Hulk if somebody forgot to hang up their coat.
When Penny Dawson left the house fuming in the middle of the night and crashed the family car into a tree, nobody was laughing. Nine year-old Ally cried as she held her mother's hand while they stitched up the gash in her head.
So that was scary, but it was nothing that couldn't be fixed with some therapy and anger management classes. Ally's father started driving her to school after that, and it wasn't until over a year later that Ally got into the car with her mother again.
Then came the insomnia. Ally would wake up in the middle of the night and tiptoe downstairs to get a glass of water, only to find her mother wandering the dark halls aimlessly like a zombie, drifting along. At first they thought she was just sleepwalking, but she was very much awake.
By the time Ally reached high school, her mother rarely left the house. She didn't like going out, constantly complaining of all the "shitty, rude drivers and bitchy store employees." Her paranoia was at an all time high. As soon as she could drive, Ally started picking up the weekly groceries. Her mother stopped going out altogether. Once, she tried to drive to the hospital to visit her own mother who'd had a stroke. Her hands shook so badly she didn't even make it out of the driveway. Ally drove her, instead.
And whenever her friends would ask, "So how's your mom?" Ally would just smile and shrug, because that was easier than explaining that it started with violent outbursts and it would end with paramedics pulling her mother's lifeless body from the bathtub.)
So Ally gives up and goes to Sonic Boom after exactly two weeks and two days of avoiding it, because she's feeling lost and alone and she could really use a friend. Even if it is a really sketchy, annoying one.
She walks right up to the counter.
"I'm sorry I got mad and threw your jacket at you."
Austin just crinkles his nose and it's kind of adorable. "You got sand in my eyes, too. But it's okay, Ally from Miami, I can't stay mad at you." He wipes at his eyes with his arm, as if there's actually still sand in them, and guilt seizes Ally's heart. But then he smiles (really, when is he not?) and everything is okay again. "It did kind of hurt, though. Smoothie?"
Austin's complete willingness to forgive and forget almost takes her breath away. Ally has always wished to be the kind of person who could do that; she was blessed and/or cursed with eternal optimism instead.
Ally nods, smiling a little and looking down at her lap. "Very Berry with extra sherbert, please and thank you."
"Coming right up." Austin waggles his eyebrows at her and the way they fall into this easy pattern of teasing and talking and laughing makes her feel like she's known him her entire life.
"Biggest regret of your life, go."
They're sitting side by side on the bench outside of Sonic Boom Smoothies the following morning. It's still early; the sky is still purple, with pink cascading off the big yellow dome of the sun as it rises in the early morning sky. It's not like they'd planned for this - Ally had wanted to get to the beach early before the crowds and on her way down she'd spotted the blonde boy lying on the bench, toying around on his phone, and she very well couldn't just not at least greet her only friend here, right?
Ally purses her lips, considering what he's just said. She could say a lot of things, things like leaving my mother at home alone or not noticing sooner that something was seriously wrong with her but of course she's not going to say that, so.
"That I never learned to surf," she blurts, because it seems real enough and she's watching the early bird surfers out on the waves. They are glorious, and part of her really does wish she'd learned, so it's not like she's lying or anything. Not really.
"You don't know how to surf?" Austin looks fairly amused.
"It's not my fault! I've had plenty of other matters to attend to." Which is true. "Will you teach me sometime?" It's not at all what she's planning on saying, but, well. This thing, between her and Austin; they never even really dipped their toes into the metaphorical water of friendship. They just kind of tumbled in. Or he pushed her in, and just as she was pulling herself out he grabbed her ankle like some kind of horrifying sea creature and dragged her right back in. And so they're paddling around in these metaphorical friendship waters and Ally is still wondering if this hot blonde boy is going to drown her or not.
They're far from conventional, so why the hell should she be conventional about all of this?
Austin seems to appreciate it, though. "Ally from Miami," he deadpans, looking her right in the eye. "If I had any inclination of how to surf, I would absolutely love to teach you."
"You're ridiculous, you know that?" Ally is laughing, drawing in a sharp breath before continuing. "I knew I was getting into something dangerous when I met you."
"Dangerous? Oh, please. I'm the farthest thing from dangerous on the planet, my dear friend."
"Friend? Uh, no. Nice try, but you still haven't told me where you live. Or what your second job is. Forgive me, but I'm having trouble considering you a friend. You're still stuck in the acquaintance zone."
"That's not fair!" Austin pouts, crossing his arms. "I consider you a friend. You might even be my best friend." He pauses, blushing profusely. "So I don't have very many friends. But still."
"Maybe I'd consider you more than some sketchy creep with undeniably good looks whose smoothie shop I frequent if you tell me a little more about yourself. Like, you know, where you live or what on earth your second job is."
"Ally." Austin is well and truly pouting now, flopping onto his back, head tipped back and Ally is sure he's going to fall off the damn bench if she doesn't push him off first. "I can't. I know you think it's bullshit, but please just believe me, it's better if you just don't know." He frowns up at her, lower lip jutting out.
Ally is quiet for a moment. "Is it...is it something bad?" she asks quietly, swinging her legs and gripping the edge of the bench, trying to look as understanding as possible. "Or is it, like. Are you embarrassed? Is it something embarrassing?"
"It's not, um. It's not bad? I don't think. Kind of. Maybe. But I'm not embarrassed of it in general, but I'm a little embarrassed to tell you because, well. You're you. And this is weird, but I like hanging out with you, Ally, and you already clearly hate me and if I tell you now then you're going to hate me even more and probably never talk to me again and I'd love to tell you but I just can't, okay, and I'm sorry." He laughs, out of breath. "God, Kira would kill me if she heard me talking right now."
"Who's Kira?"
"My girlfriend."
He's just being an ass now, so Ally figures the only solution at this point is to shove him off the bench (she pretends she isn't trying to hide the biggest, stupidest grin of her life because even though he has a girlfriend he likes hanging out with her and he thinks she's special and fuck, if that isn't one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to her, well.)
That finally shuts him up.
Until, of course, he starts whining from the ground about the the splinters.
Much to Ally's disbelief and displeasure, this grand Summer of Healing in lovely California has turned out to be less doing early morning yoga on the balcony as the sun rises and exploring tide pools and all that schmaltzy stuff and more waking up, running around the apartment complex track like a mad woman for an hour or so, showering, and then going down to the boardwalk - more often than not to visit Austin.
It's all very fun, actually, because Austin may be an idiot and a tease but he's also kind of hilarious and being around him makes Ally feel not so completely lost.
Not unwelcome, just unexpected.
Everything is going just swimmingly up until one Friday afternoon. She's sitting on one of the swivel stools in Sonic Boom, keeping Austin company until his break in ten minutes. He's telling her some awful joke about a horse and a bar and laughing and even though it's all very terrible, it's also all very Austin, and so Ally is laughing, too.
And then he gets a text.
It's not the fact that he received a text that's so earth-shattering (though it is a little, because, well, like he said, he doesn't have many friends), but as his eyes scan the screen Austin pales a little, eyes flashing with something akin to anger, something Ally is so unused to seeing in him.
"What is it?" she asks, and, for a second, she thinks, like, maybe Kira just broke up with him and there's hope bubbling up in her chest but she squashes it back down, because her life thus far has been full of getting her hopes up only to have them crushed into a million glittering pieces, piercing and scarring all her insides.
(Ally is not beautiful. That, she is sure of. But she'll take what she can get, because the one thing she knows is that her insides are even uglier.)
But Austin just shakes his head, smiling reassuringly at her. "Nothing, it's cool. I just gotta run. I'll be back really soon, alright?" Before Ally can say anything, he's telling the other girl working the counter that he's taking his break early and swiftly dashing out the back door.
Ally is not stupid. She was taught manners growing up - her parents made sure of that. She knows that when someone tells you they'll be back soon, they explicitly want you to stay there and certainly not follow them, but she also knows that whoever that message was from, it was something very Not Good. Austin Moon has proved to be a complete mystery, a puzzle with half of the pieces hidden in his own pockets, and Ally...she's just curious, okay?
So, Nosy Ally trumps Smart Ally and promptly exiting Sonic Boom via the front entrance. Upon the realization that this would all be a lot quicker if she simply exited through the back, she heads back in, and, as any other rational person on a mission would do, goes into the bathroom and crawls out the back window. Nosy Ally might be impulsive and stupid, but she also has her redeeming factors.
She tumbles gracelessly out of the window and onto the thin, broiling strip of concrete that lines the back of the shops. She kind of wants to die.
It's a good thing Austin isn't out here to see, but it also leaves Ally wondering where he is, because, well. It didn't take her that long to get out here. He couldn't have gotten very far. Scrambling to her feet, she tilts her head, listening. Above the din of crashing waves and the constant hum of chatter, she can hear Austin's voice - distinctly his, but in a tone she's never heard from him before. It's harsh and strained, overflowing with tension and it makes her want to run far, far away - so, naturally, Ally decides she has to get closer. She creeps to the edge of the final shop on the edge of the boardwalk, peering uneasily around the corner to glance at the lot of cars. Every last spot appears to be taken and then some, car squished together almost comically, but it's dead quiet except for Austin's goddamned voice coming out of god knows where.
There's another voice, too, and this one isn't so much angry as it is pleading.
After listening for a few minutes and getting nothing from the conversation except that this has got to be a world record for 'most expletives used within three minutes', Ally decides that eavesdropping from around a corner is not the way to go. She has to investigate up close and personal.
She mentally curses herself every time her sandals crunch in the gravel, or when her toes accidentally touch the scorching rocks. Damn this sunshine state.
What she finds as she shimmies between two closely-parked cars and peeks around the line of vehicles is enough for her to completely forget that she's supposed to be sneaky. Instead, her jaw drops and a "HOLY FUCKING SHIT" tumbles out of her mouth before she can stop it, because, well. Ally isn't sure what she expected to find when she turned that corner, but it certainly wasn't Austin holding some poor, pale kid who looks no older than sixteen by the collar up against a truck, growling at him many variations of If you don't get me my fucking money I swear to god I will skin you alive.
"Austin!" she squeaks in horror, because in the few weeks she's known him, she's learned many things about him, but clearly she missed the drug dealer speech - oh, yeah. Second job. It all comes together in her head and she feels kind of faint, but she refuses to let herself collapse now. Not in front of this sick, drug dealing fuck.
Austin's head whips around because apparently he's not attentive enough to hear female voices screaming expletives but when his name is called, he's all ears. Fucking prick. Ally knew he was too good to be true, but she had hoped his flaws didn't go far beyond being cocky as hell. Clearly she was wrong. So, so wrong.
"Ally?!" His voice comes out in this pathetic little squeak and Ally doesn't even have time to revel in the glory of that before he's dropping the kid to the ground and facing her head on, holding out his hands, signaling for her to wait. "This isn't what it looks like, I swear to God."
"Oh, my god! You're kidding me, right? Because what this looks like is some kind of drug deal!"
"No! See, I told you it wasn't what it looked like! See, the thing is, the drugs have already been dealt - two weeks ago, to be exact - and I'm just trying to get the two hundred bucks this kid owes me."
Ally almost laughs, but doesn't, because she doesn't want him to get the wrong idea that she's okay with this and thinks it's all fine and dandy when it's very much the complete opposite.
"Ally, please wait -"
She turns and runs.
so...im like really really sorry u had to find out like that. let me make it up to u? breakfast 2morro? i'll pick u up?
Ally glares at the phone for a few minutes before responding.
Fuck off.
She sends it without a moment's hesitation. Twenty seconds later, she irritably picks the phone back up and, before Austin can respond to her previous message, types out another one.
Pick me up at 9:15 sharp.
Oh, and one more thing. Just because.
Still, fuck off, though. Just don't forget to pick me up.
"Good morning, sunshine." Austin greets her with a too-bright smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners as soon as Ally slides into the passenger seat of his car the following morning. Car is a bit of an overstatement - more like a Volkswagen that's probably almost twice as old as her. And it's not one of the brightly colored ones you see in all the beachy music videos or anything; this thing is old, and it shows. Ally almost can't believe it's still running.
"Sweet ride," she says, raising her eyebrows at him.
"Home sweet home." And, like. Oh. Ally's hands fly up to cover her mouth, guilt flooding her entire being.
"Oh, my god. Austin. I am, like. I am so sorry. I had no idea. Oh my god. I can't believe I... I really had n-"
"It's cool, Ally. I get that a lot. It's nice, though, once you get used to it." He jerks his thumb behind him - there are no backseats in the car, just open space that has been filled partially with a pillow and a mess of blankets. A glass tank sits in the far right corner, and closer inspection reveals the tank to be occupied by a turtle.
"Who's this little guy?" Ally asks, voice cracking in disbelief.
"That's Shelldon with two L's. Get it? Shell-don?" Austin tips his head back in laughter at his own awful pun, and it's clear from the grin on his face that he thinks it's hilarious, so Ally laughs too, because it is kind of funny in a super lame way. "Because he's a turtle," Austin finishes quietly, wiping fake tears of laughter from his eyes.
"You're a genius."
"Believe me; I know. Now stop wasting time and buckle up or it's gonna be lunch time by the time we get there."
Ally narrows her eyebrows but her gaze stays trained on the little turtle in the back. "Where is there, exactly? I can't really be sure if you're trustworthy now that I know you're not only a drug dealer, but that you are also the owner a vaguely pedophilic van."
"I know! It's awesome, right?" Austin smiles hopefully, but it fades to a grimace once he catches the look on Ally's face - stone cold and unimpressed.
Ally really, really hates Austin, but at least the diner he takes her to for breakfast is cute. They sit in a booth by a window with the ocean in the distance. The only words that pass between them are when the waitress comes to take their order. When their food comes, Ally takes an obnoxiously large bite of bacon, looking him directly in the eye and glaring as she chews.
Austin breaks the silence.
"It could be worse. I mean, I could an ax murderer or deal hard drugs, right?"
"Hard drugs? So what kind of drugs do you sell, Austin?" Ally snorts, taking another long sip of water from the Coca-Cola glass.
"Just pot," Austin says flatly, adding, "I swear, Ally," when she gives him a dubious look.
"So maybe you aren't dealing cocaine or heroin. But drugs are still drugs, Austin. Do you know how much trouble you could get in if you ever got caught?" Ally nearly shouts, because she's furious. She's furious because Austin may be hot and nice and sometimes funny but he is also a stupid, stupid boy who lives in the back of a beat up Volkswagen with a turtle because his parents rightfully kicked him out upon finding out that their son was a drug dealer.
"The pot law is dumb, though. The people of Colorado are doing it right if you ask me. And it wasn't even my fault at first, okay? A couple of my close buddies started dealing back in, like, tenth grade I think? And I didn't really want any part of it, but I was around them all the time and they would ask me to do hand-offs for them sometimes, and of course I said okay. And they made so much money, Ally, and I kind of got really jealous. Can you blame me? I was like, sixteen, and it seemed too good to be true. So I joined in. I was the only one of us who had their own car, and they wanted to take advantage of that. So I was in. And then my parents caught me last year, just before I graduated. They asked me if I knew anyone who was dealing, too, and I could've ratted my friends out but I didn't, and they told me I could get the fuck out, so I did. I tried to crash with my friends, but once word spread to the other parents about what terrible choices I'd made, everyone alienated me completely. Even my friends. So I lived with my Great Aunt Jeanie, who was really pretty cool, until this January when she passed away. So, I mean, there I was, with only my car and the money I was earning from working at Sonic Boom, and I had nowhere to turn to. I mean, I'm legally an adult, I guess, so what is there to do? So I went back to dealing and now I'm eighteen years old and living in the back of my car with a turtle I found with a broken foot under the boardwalk."
"So...where are you getting the pot from now?"
"I know a guy."
"One of your high school buddies?"
Austin laughs once - dry and humorless. "No."
And he passes her the syrup.
Austin parks the Volkswagen in the parking lot of Ally's apartment complex, but she doesn't move to get out. She simply unbuckles, crosses her arms and glances at him.
"I already know what you're gonna say." It seems Austin is always the one breaking the silence.
"Oh, yeah? And what is that, you all-knowing genius of a boy?"
"I know you think I should try to make amends with my parents. And it's not gonna happen, okay? They're not those kind of people. I fucked up once and they kicked me out; I have no interest in trying to fix my relationship with them. Hell, I'm glad I don't have to deal with them anymore."
"But you can't just say that!" Ally nearly shouts. "I know what they did seems harsh, Austin, but they're still your parents, okay? Maybe it's time for you to stop being so fucking selfish and be the bigger person here and give them another chance! Don't they at least deserve that?"
"Look, Ally," Austin says slowly, looking her dead in the eyes and Ally can tell he's trying to keep a composed face. She has to admit, he's doing an awful good job - it's almost scary, how blank and emotionless his face has gone. She's never seen him like this before. "I understand what you're saying, and I appreciate your advice, but you don't know my parents. You don't know what they're like, and frankly, I'd rather you kept yourself from poking your nose into other peoples' business. This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you about any of this!"
Ally barely hears a word he says over the blood pounding in her ears. "Oh, that's why you didn't want to tell me? Wow, well, excuse me for being such a terrible burden on you and your fucked up life!"
"Stop," Austin hisses through gritted teeth. He reaches to grab her wrist but stops himself at the last minute, taking a long, deep breath before continuing. "Just stop it. Look, I don't know why the fuck you're so invested in solving my problems with my parents, but nothing you do is going to make anything better. I don't know why you're so obsessed with making everything in my life better; don't you have your own life? You never told me why you're here, completely alone, no family in sight. Is that it? Are you trying to make yourself feel better about your shitty relationship with your parents by trying to fix mine? Well, fuck, Ally, that's not how it works! Focus on your own shit, alright, because I'm sure you've got plenty." He is really and truly shouting now, glaring at Ally in a way that makes her stomach ache. Mostly, though, she's angry.
"My relationship with my father is just fine, thank you very much," she says through gritted teeth, getting up to leave. "And my mother is dead."
The last thing she sees before she slams the van door shut is Austin's face crumble, eyes widening in horror.
im sorry
im such a dick im so sorry
ally im sorry
ally
i had no idea
im an idiot im so fucking sorry
ally please
i dont expect u to ever forgive me but please just say something
say something so i know ur ok
fine. dont
ally?
im worried about you
please ally
im sorry
i just need u to say something and then i will leave u alone for good
i miss u, shelldon is fun but ur funner
is that a word
if you were here right now and didnt hate me u would probably make fun of me for using that word but its ok bc i deserve that and so much more
ally
im sorry
fine. forget it
And, finally:
i really do miss u, tho
He sends her 362 messages over the course of four days.
She deletes every last one and turns her phone off.
On the fifth night, she sets it on the linoleum floor in the bathroom and crushes it with the heel of her shoe until it's nothing more than a pile of glass and wires and circuit board fragments.
For the first time in five days, she smiles.
Ally never wants to see him ever again, so naturally, as fate would have it, a week, three days, eleven hours, and twenty six minutes after The Incident, they meet again.
Ally is in a coffee shop (she refuses to drink another smoothie for as long as she lives), comically large sunglasses dominating her face and a floppy sunhat on her head. It's kind of her thing now. She has just finished signing her receipt for the cashier when she hears his voice - she hates that she picks up on it the second she hears it.
He's speaking quietly to a man sitting alone at a table, easy grin on his face even though his eyes are tired. Ally has to swallow down the bile that rises in her throat when she sees him slide a small tin across the table, casual as can be. He smiles, satisfied when the man hands him a small stack of bills. It's the most hilariously obvious thing Ally's ever seen, and before she realizes what she's doing, she's marching over to the table and tapping Austin on the shoulder.
"Of course the one time I run into you it's in the middle of a goddamned drug deal." She says it quietly so nobody else will hear, though she's not sure why. After all, what's it to her if he gets caught and thrown in jail? "And you're doing a really bad job of being casual, by the way."
Austin's eyes widen and he jolts around, standing up quickly and grabbing Ally's shoulders in a way that is not so much aggressive as it is relieved.
"Ally! Oh, my god. You haven't answered any of my messages, and when I called it just kept going straight to voicemail, and I drove past your apartment to make sure you were okay and all lights were out and I was this close to calling the police or something just in case... God, I don't even know. I was just really worried, I guess."
"You're a fucking tool and if I catch you spying on me anymore I will call the police and not only report you for harassment, but for your little drug dealing as well." Ally pats herself on the back for that one and turns to leave, twisting out of his loose grasp.
"Ally, wait!" He doesn't lay a hand on her, but the desperation in his voice is enough to make her stop anyway. "Please, just. Wait. Can we talk? Please?"
"No."
"Please, Ally."
People are starting to stare now, so Ally groans inwardly and huffs out a fine, partially because she wants to see Austin fall to his knees and beg for her forgiveness but mostly because she doesn't like attention from strangers at all, let alone negative attention, and Austin is kind of making a scene.
So she retrieves her coffee from where it's sitting finished and steaming on the counter and sits at an empty booth near the back, crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat. She crosses her arms as he sits across from her, all jittery and looking like a nervous grade-schooler about to present his science project to his class.
She takes her hat off but leaves her sunglasses on, pursing her lips impatiently.
Let him know he hasn't earned anything just yet.
"I feel awful."
"You should."
"I haven't been able to sleep."
"Boo hoo."
"I'm not looking for pity."
"It sounds like you are."
"I'm not."
"Alright. Anything else, or are we done here?"
"I'm a piece of shit."
"You're not a piece of shit."
"Yeah, I am."
"Okay. You're kind of a piece of shit."
"I know."
"That's good."
They both smile at that - it's very dark and humorless and very unlike them, but it's a start.
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
"No."
"Okay."
Two nights later, they are sitting in the sand, nearly a full yard gap between them, gentle waves lapping at their toes as the setting sun casts a red-orange glow as far as the eye can see. Ally is holding Shelldon in her lap, stroking his tiny head with the tip of her finger. When she glances over at Austin, his eyes are closed, face bathed in evening light. He looks, for the first time in days, almost at ease. Ally smiles softly, then looks out at the horizon.
"My mom committed suicide in March."
"Oh."
"She was...she was really sick."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah."
"...What kind of sick?"
"Clinical depression."
"Oh."
"Uh-huh."
"That really sucks."
"Yep."
She just scoots closer and leans her head on his shoulder, feeling dizzy with a renewed sense of grief, and at first he is startled and hesitant, but eventually his hand finds its way to the small of her back, rubbing soft, comforting circles. That just makes her want to cry harder.
They watch the sky turn from red to pink to midnight blue to black, silence draped over them like a sheet.
"If Kira saw us like this she'd chop your balls off," Ally reminds him, trying unsuccessfully to swallow back her tears. Her throat tastes like acid.
"Kira dumped me." Ally doesn't even feel sorry for him, nor does she feel the rush of excitement and opportunity she would have a couple of weeks ago. Instead, she feels nothing.
"Good."
"Do you still hate me?" he asks.
She's already crying too hard to answer properly, the way she wants to, so she just whispers, "I don't know."
Their physical interactions are a complete departure from their verbal ones, which have been narrowed down to mostly questions from Austin and clipped, one word responses from Ally. They are sitting in the back of his Volkswagen, and they can hear crickets chirping outside through the cracked windows, and he is holding one of her hands in his lap, playing with her fingers.
"I haven't had a smoothie in two weeks and it's all your fault."
Austin looks really and truly offended by this. "How is it my fault?"
"Because smoothies remind me too much of you and I hate you and why would I allow myself to have something that I associate with somebody I despise?"
"So you do still hate me."
Ally lets out a short, sad laugh. "I don't hate you, Austin. I hate the things you do, and the things you say, and how you make me feel, whatever that means, but I don't hate you."
Austin makes a wounded face. "Oh."
He doesn't let go of her hand, though, and Ally doesn't pull away.
"Maybe we could, like, try to contact your mom via a Ouija board."
"Don't be disrespectful, Austin; you're already on thin ice and you can't afford to fuck up anymore if you want to maintain this friendship."
"I'm being serious, Ally. It could be really cool."
"Shut up, Austin."
Things are better, but Ally knows the rift in their friendship (is that even what you'd call something like this?) isn't going to get better until shit hits the fan...again, and she's not sure she wants that just yet. Sure, Austin hasn't been making terrible jokes and jumping around like an overexcited kitten, but she has grown strangely accustomed to their quiet, stiff conversations.
But, naturally, shit does hit the fan and really, she never expected any less.
Shit hits the fan when there's someone pounding on her door at three in the morning and at first she thinks it's just the rain but no, that's definitely a person, and when she cracks open the door and peeks out Austin is standing there sheepishly, drenched from the rain with his hands shoved in his pockets.
"What the hell, Austin?" she hisses, wiping her tired eyes.
"Can I come inside?"
"No! It's three in the morning, what are you even doing here?"
Austin takes a deep breath, looking fairly uncomfortable. "Look, you're smart, Ally. You know I wouldn't show up like this unless I really had no other choice."
Ally's eyebrows flick up suspiciously, but she opens the door a little wider, steps back, and tells him, "Come in."
She has to fumble around in the dark for a little to find the light switch as Austin stops there on the tile, standing awkwardly like he's not sure where to go. "I don't want to get your carpet all wet," he says sheepishly, and oh, there's the light switch.
It takes Ally's eyes a few moments to adjust to the light and she frowns, exhausted and annoyed, but one look at Austin's face and she's never been more grateful to have let someone inside in the middle of the night.
At first she thinks perhaps she's just imagining it, but as the seconds drag on, eyes locked on each others' in a moment of painful, gut-wrenching clarity, it becomes apparent that the garish purple and blue splotch that covers a good portion of the right half of his face is all too real. It's bad, really bad, and colored in a way that skin is not supposed to be colored. It's almost painful to look at, but she can't tear her gaze away.
"What happened?" she whispers finally.
"Oh, this guy? Just a little disagreement with my boss," he says it casually, like he's discussing the weather or a film or anything that's not this. "Can I get dried off, please? I'm kind of cold."
Ten minutes later Austin is sitting on her couch, swaddled in a blanket like a child and shirtless (Ally had demanded he keep his pants on, thank you very much.) Ally is bumbling around in the kitchen, feeling overwhelmed and concerned and very much like a mother hen. After Austin insists something like twenty times that he's fine and doesn't need anything, she sighs in defeat and sits next to him on the couch, curling in on herself.
"I'm guessing that when you say disagreement with your boss you're not talking about the one over at Sonic Boom."
Austin actually does laugh at that, eyes (well, eye - the other one is kind of busy being bruised as fuck) lighting up in a way that they haven't in a while. "Nah. Though I'm sure that guy wouldn't mind giving me a right hook or two for my incredible work ethic."
"You sound awfully casual about it," Ally says, deeply disturbed. "Does this stuff happen a lot?"
"It's just a part of the job."
"You're an idiot."
"So I've heard."
"Are you gonna tell me any more about this little disagreement?"
"What do you think?"
"I think you're not."
"You would be correct in making that assumption."
Ally groans in frustration. "You suck, you know that? All I ever do is try to help you and get you to open up about things and it just always ends badly because you're too goddamned proud to let anyone know how you really feel. I mean, seriously, Austin, is your pride this important to you? Because it's kind of a turn off."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm the one who won't open up?" Austin crosses his arms defensively, raising his good eyebrow at her.
"Okay, fine. We both clearly have issues with talking about our feelings."
"Maybe that's why we're so good together," Austin says and Ally thinks he's trying to be a little shit but when she looks up to glare at him, the look on his face is genuine. And, well. Maybe he has a bit of a point. Ally can't let him know that, though, so she narrows her eyes at him and crosses her arms.
"We are not good together. We are a mess."
"A hot mess." Austin agrees, waggling his eyebrows.
"I'm going to bed," she growls, standing up and heading to the bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it.
Going to sleep after all that excitement proves to be very difficult, though, and Ally tosses and turns for and hour and everything aches and finally she gives up, surrenders, and unlocks her door and pads quietly into the living room, where Austin appears to be snoozing on the couch.
He looks peaceful at rest, so naturally, Ally wakes him up.
"Austin," she whispers when he groans and stirs, yawning and wiping at his eyes sleepily like a baby animal. Gross.
"Yeah, Ally?"
"I wanna talk about it now."
He doesn't say anything in response, just sits up and turns to face her head on, blinking owlishly, which Ally takes as her cue to start talking. And, after a long, deep breath, she does.
"So my mom was sick for a really long time. Like, I can remember being five and her going into these spells of getting really quiet and slow and sad, but according to my dad it went on for a lot longer before that even. The doctors all thought she had PPD, but then it never really got any better. In fact, it just kind of kept getting worse. And she would get so angry over the smallest things, I remember. It was like any little misstep or error would set her off. I remember being kind of scared of her, but she never hurt me or my dad. Just herself. And then I got into middle school and I was busy with a ton of extracurriculars, so I didn't see her as much. But like, as the years went on she just got quieter and quieter and sadder and it just really sucked, seeing her give up on things she used to love and stuff." Ally takes a long, deep breath and stares at the ground, because Austin is looking at her with the sweetest, most compassionate look she's ever seen and her vision is starting to blur with tears. "And then this March, she overdosed. My dad came home early from work because she wasn't answering her phone, and he found her in the bathtub. She must've been dead for hours. And they came and took her body away because there's no saving someone at that point, you know? And that was that."
"And so, like. Her funeral was a few weeks before I left Florida to come here, and I was supposed to be leaving for college in a month or so but now I'm not and I spent all of my savings on coming here and I don't know what to do now because I'm away from home and all those memories but I still can't shake them."
There is such a sadness in Austin's eyes when she meets his gaze that a sob bubbles up in her throat.
"Well, aren't you going to say something?" Ally asks, choking back another sob.
"I really want to, but I kind of feel like anything I say at this point is going to be extremely unhelpful. I mean, I want to say so much - I'm so, so sorry being at the top of that list, but what's the point in that? Being sorry doesn't fix anything." Austin stares down at his hands. "I'm sorry I can't fix it."
Ally isn't sure whether she wants to laugh or cry, so she does a little bit of both. "It's not your fault, Austin."
"I know. Still sucks, though." He nudges her gently with his elbow, peering down at her from where he's perched on the couch behind her. "Do hugs help or make things worse?"
"I don't know. They don't hurt, though." And Ally is standing up from her spot
"The worse part is, like," Ally says quietly, wiping her eye with the back of her hand, "I can't even miss her very much. Like, I'm sad about it and I hate it, but I don't miss her. I miss who she used to be. I miss my mom, but it felt like she stopped being my mom a long time before she died." She's kind of crying at that point. "That sounds really bad, I know."
"I understand."
"No, stop. Don't lie. I know you must think I'm a huge idiot and I'm a terrible, awful person and -"
"Ally," he is gripping her shoulders now, eyes boring into hers in a way she's never experienced before. "You are not a terrible person. You are a pretty awesome person, actually, and I wish you could see what an awesome person you are."
Ally laughs a little at that, but it's a sad sound. "I'm not awesome, though. I don't deserve you being so nice to me, especially with how badly I've been treating y-"
"Oh, shut up," he groans, cutting her off, and then he's kissing her, cradling her face in his hands like he's afraid she's going to break, and all of the tension that's been wrapped around them both, choking them for the past few weeks slips away and falls to the floor like sand.
"Wanna smoke some pot?"
"Kind of."
"Have you ever smoked pot before?"
"Once. At a party."
"And?"
"I don't know. I coughed a lot."
"Was it good, though?"
"I guess. I don't really remember. I wasn't even really high or anything, but I pretended I was and I made out with some guy on the football team who kept pinching my boob, so I told him to screw off."
"So you're saying you do want to smoke pot with me, or...?"
"Yeah."
"Oh. Wow. I didn't expect you to say yes, but, well. Okay, awesome!"
"Only with you, though."
"Okay, Ally. Only with me."
"Only you."
"I hope you don't mind if Shelldon observes."
"I don't."
"Good. He's kind of my best friend, you know."
"I know."
"Should I stop talking now?"
"Probably."
Ally's second time being high is nothing like her first, and it is different in the best way possible.
Maybe it's because she it's in the back of Austin's van instead of a high school party, and that she's surrounded by a hot, sweet boy who claims to be a professional joint-roller and a turtle instead of the sweaty body of people she hates, or maybe it's because this time she feels really a truly pleasantly buzzed, feeling warm and sated and happy, or maybe it's because Austin fucks her.
Or maybe it's a combination of all three.
It's not like she got high with Austin with the express intent of sleeping with him, but, well. They're both giggling and she feels herself losing her grip on what she means to say, completely tongue tied, which just makes her laugh harder, and when she looks at Austin he's looking at her like she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and he tells her so, too. And if she didn't want him to fuck her when she first woke up this morning, well, she sure as hell does now.
Before she can say anything, though, he asks her, with a completely straight face. "Wanna have sex?"
"Yeah."
(So, well. That's that, then.)
And it's kind of awesome - Austin, despite being a little giggly and scatterbrained, makes her feel special. He whispers to her, lips brushing the shell of her ear with his fingers finding their way under her skirt, higher and higher on her thigh and oh.
She is breathing in smoke, exhaling, breathing it in again, and Austin is on top of her saying things like you're so beautiful, Ally, you have no fucking idea and it's so genuine Ally can't even bring herself to feel self-conscious, because, well, they're doing this, aren't they? He is pulling off her shirt and kissing her hungrily like she's his oxygen and moon and stars and everything he'll ever need, and all Ally can think of to gasp out between kisses is, "There's a lot of sand in the back of your car." Austin laughs breathlessly.
"It's also really weird that Shelldon is watching us." Austin snorts but pulls away, gently picking up Shelldon's tank and depositing it in the front seat where the creature can warm its belly in the sun.
"Better now?"
"Much."
And he kisses her again. Breathe. Smoke in her lungs. Sunshine against her face.
She is content, and, feeling bold, reaches to undo his belt.
They are tangled up in Austin's blankets in the back of the Volkswagen, air thick with smoke and salt and sweat. Somewhere nearby, blue waves are crashing ceaselessly against jagged rocks. Austin is drawing shapes on her stomach with the tip of his finger and it tickles, but Ally enjoys it too much to ask him to stop.
She is laughing, and she is smiling, and the California sun is shining hot on her bare back, and she has sand in her hair and salt water on her skin and she is kissing a stupid, beautiful boy who lives in the back of a van and sells pot to tourists, and she is so, so happy.
It's a Thursday.