A/N: A bit short, different formatting than I've done before.
"Still now I send letters into space,
Hoping that some mailman somewhere will track you down
And recognise you from the descriptions in my poems
That he will place the stack of them in your hands and tell you,
There is a girl who still writes you, she doesn't know how not to."
-Sarah Kay
Dear Ally,
Today, Dez stuffed lemon jelly beans up his nose because he thought it would make everything smell like lemon. You weren't here to convince him not to, and Trish just egged him on, so now we're in the emergency room in Burbank, California, waiting for the nurse to finish removing them.
I hope the songwriting is going well! I know they're going to be incredible (because you're incredible) and because you always write awesome music. We all wish you were here!
Austin
Dear Ally,
This is the second letter I'm writing to you but I never even sent you the first one so I guess this is the first letter that I'm writing to you. Unless you count the card, which I guess kind of counts because I did write it and it did start with "Ally" and end with "Austin" and it had a "P.S." and that makes it a letter, right? I don't know these things, which is why you should be here, because I know you would know the answer. And also because if you were here I wouldn't have to write you letters, because, Ally, I'm really bad at it. We've only been on the bus for two days but it feels like it's been forever since I've seen Sonic Boom, or since we've written together, or you've yelled at me for touching your book. I play my first concert tomorrow, and it's so weird to think that I'm doing it without you, because I couldn't have done any of this without you, Ally. I hope you know that. I have to go, because we're doing sound check. I'm not sure if I'm going to send you this letter either, because it's kind of rambling and I don't know what I'm trying to say, really. All I know is that nothing feels like it's real right now, and I don't know if it's because I'm finally getting my dream, or because (my dream's changed and you're not here) I haven't gotten any sleep lately. Anyways. Even if I'm not going to send this, I hope you and Sonic Boom and your mom and dad are all doing great, and I hope the songwriting is going well!
Austin
Dear Ally,
I just played the first show of my tour.
I just played the first show of my tour and there was a crowd.
I just played the first show of my tour and there was a crowd and they knew the words to all our songs.
I just played the first show of my tour and there was a crowd and they knew the words to all our songs and they asked for an encore.
I just played the first show of my tour and there was a crowd and they knew the words to all our songs and they asked for an encore and for the first time, you weren't in the audience.
This is all crazy and kind of awesome but it also kind of sucks and I don't know why.
Austin
Dear Ally,
It's been a few weeks into the tour and we're all kind of settled into a rhythm. Trish really misses you; she's gotten you a teacup from every place we've been, and sometimes she just locks herself in the bathroom because she says she can't handle this much time with me and Dez. I-
So you just called and said you're coming with us for the rest of the tour! I guess this letter was kind of unnecessary then...
Austin
Dear Ally,
The tour's almost over, and I still haven't sent you a real letter. I think the problem is that I didn't know how to write to you when I really just wished you were here. And now you are, but I'm still writing to you, so I guess... I don't know. I guess I still feel like I haven't told you enough. Like I haven't told you everything. It's been so cool to be on this tour and I am beyond excited that I get to see all these places and sing songs and get paid for it, but none of this would have happened without corn dogs, or the practice room, or you, Ally. And you deserve a great letter. The kind that will make you laugh, with good grammar and spelling and funny stories and without any run-on sentences. But you were always the writer and I was always the rocker but I didn't really know how to be either without someone to write with and rock with and we needed you to calm Trish down when she got angry and to bring Dez back to Earth when he got crazy ideas and we needed you to set my head straight when I got scattered. But I think part of the reason I never sent you any of these letters is that they aren't completely real. Completely true. Because the thing is, every song I've tried to write has ended up being a letter to you. A real one. Letters about your smile and sunshine and fireworks and the summer we met and fireworks and an autumn of falling. Letters about three thousand miles and empty spotlights, singing half a harmony and looking for your face in the crowd every time I was on stage. Letters about waiting.
You're sitting across the bus from me, but you're different and I'm different, and what if we're different? Ally, I couldn't do any of this without you. And now you're rocking and I'm writing but we are still Austin and Ally and we are still timeless and you are still the one who taught me to break down the walls. The one who taught me not to look down. And even though our careers are changing and we're kind of doing our own things, whenever anything happens, you're still the first one I want to tell. And I guess whatever you need right now, that's who I want to be. Because all you've ever wanted me to be is Austin Moon, but it's hard to remember exactly how to be me without you-
And I think maybe that's what love is.
Oh.
Well, that's inconvenient.
Definitely not sending this one.
Dear Austin,
You should really learn to hide things better. Stuffing a pile of papers into the pocket of your jacket is definitely not the place to hide something from the girl who you lent the jacket to. (Although I guess you couldn't have anticipated Dez would spill soda on my sweater and there would be record low temperatures for the last concert on your tour.)
I feel a little bit silly now, because you were writing songs for the same reason I couldn't write any songs, and we must be two of the most ridiculous people on the planet, because Austin, I found out that love is writer's block and undone words and anticipation. It's seeing you and feeling like coming home, it's three thousand miles and sheets of half-finished songs and your hand in mine and and pancakes and pickles for tour bus breakfasts and your grin. And I don't think my heart's started beating again since I put my phone in the pocket of this jacket and found half a dozen crumpled sheets of paper that turned everything upside down and inside out (and I quite like it this way, I think). Maybe we had to grow apart to grow back together. Really what I'm trying to say, Austin, is that I'm a little in love with you. So now I'm going to fold this back up and put it back in the pocket and you're going to finish your encore song and maybe, maybe everything's going to change, but that's okay. Because it'll be us. Together.
Love,
Ally
A/N: Thanks for reading!