Lemonade Mouth

Again and again

By Ella Lavender

So this is my first story for CharlieMo, as well as the first Angst shot I've ever done…ever. So, uh…enjoy?

I don't own Lemonade Mouth

(^^)

Charlie Delgado exhaled softly through his nose, ignoring the urge to run a hand over his face in agitation in favor of busing himself with the cup of hot chocolate he was preparing.

She likes three spoons of chocolate powder and four spoons of sugar, quarter hot water and the rest lukewarm milk; two small marshmallows, both pink. He reminded himself, though the action was so automatic that he barely realized that he was already dropping the two marshmallows into the chocolate colored liquid. Charlie blinked a little just as a soft whimper from the next room caught his attention and he shook his head.

Grabbing her favorite mug, the one with BEST DRUMMER graffiti-ed onto the front of the white porcelain, Charlie walked into his living room.

Mo sat on his sofa, wrapped in his favorite checkered blanket, her eyes puffy and her nose red. A pile of tear filled tissues sat on her lap as she whimpered pathetically to herself as she held her cell-phone with shaking hands.

As he approached her with her hot chocolate, he caught a glimpse of what the she was looking at on her mobile device.

His free hand clenched tightly.

"Charlie?"

His gaze flickered to her, forcing a tight smile as he handed her the mug. "You alright?"

She sniffed, accepting the offer and giving him a weak smile.

"I'm fine."

And I'm a hobo, he thought, inwardly rolling his eyes at the feeble response. His hands free, Charlie stooped down to collect the used tissues, ignoring her usual protests, "What are you doing? I blew my nose in that! Charlie, you're embarrassing me!" She'd placed the mug down and was trying to reach for the pile he'd removed from her lap, however her phone remained firmly planted in one hand.

"Don't worry about it Mo," he responded as was the routine.

She sank back into the sofa, pouting slightly as she rewrapped herself in his blanket. He smiled.

"Just drink your chocolate and don't worry about a thing."

Mo mumbled something under her breath along the lines of not being pathetic and useless, but Charlie brushed it off as he disposed of the tissues she'd used to wipe up her tears, as well as most of her mascara.

When he returned, Charlie took a seat on the recliner diagonal from her, changing the channel from TRACE to Comedy Central where a marathon of Friends played.

The two band-mates and best friends sat in comfortable silence, only her soft sniffling disturbing Chandler and Monica's repartee on his television. He didn't mind. It reminded him that she was still there. But then again, she always was at times like this.

It started off a bit uncomfortable for them both the first time, but she had no one else to turn to and Charlie wasn't the type to let a crying girl leave because he didn't know what to do.

Mo had claimed that Olivia was out of town visiting relatives, which she was, and that Stella went with Ray (her boyfriend of over six months) to cheer him on at his soccer tournament, which she was. Tearfully the Indian violinist turned bassist admitted that she had no one else to turn to as her father would only give her an understanding but approvingly look at her suffering. And honestly, she couldn't handle it.

Charlie had never had this sort of encounter before, his experience with crying females severely limited.

Thankfully all he had to do was sit quietly while she ranted and then cried, and then ranted, and then cried some more. He also found it was useful to give her hot chocolate and tubs of ice-cream to drown her sorrow in.

Comedies on TV helped too; the viewing pleasure that distracted the Indian girl varied though, on some days she preferred to cry over Titanic or The Notebook and sometimes she preferred movies where anyone with a penis was dealt with in the most violent way possible (those movies made Charlie extremely uncomfortable, but it wasn't like he was going to tell her that). However, the reason for her tears was always the same.

Whether she was ranting or crying, her pain had only one name: Scott Pickett.

"He did this today," or, "he said that today," was not too far off her explanations along with many more tears and insults mixed with sobbed compliments to the soccer player's virtue.

It was a routine of, "Scott's such a great boyfriend" to "Scott's such an asshole."

It was the most bipolar thing Charlie had ever been exposed to.

Not even Stella's relationship with the rival front-man, Ray Beech was this messed up. Sure the pair of hotheads argued and yelled on a daily basis, but they were constant, and never once did Charlie or anyone else for that matter, see the Tyrant of Mesa make the half-Asian revolutionary cry.

And it seemed that Scott did that to his girlfriend quite regularly.

Not a single weekend went by that the drummer was left to silently comfort Lemonade Mouth's bassist. Even when the other girls of their band returned, Mo seemed to prefer Charlie's company at her most pitiful. He hadn't minded and in a way, he understood.

With the other two girls involved in their own romantic relationships, Stella with Ray and Olivia with Wen, it would be hard to lament over the uselessness of significant others when both their front-man and electric guitarist had the exact opposite.

He chanced a glance in her direction to find her shaking halted, her eyes less red but still puffy and her mug of hot chocolate already drained.

Charlie learnt that around this time was when she was ready to talk.

Mentally bracing himself, he asked her casually, "So, what happened?"

Mo sniffed in reply, a silence lapsing before she chose to answer, "He cheated on me again."

The 'again' made his brow quirk.

Almost everyone in their group, including Ray knew about Scott's indiscretions, his favorite happening to be the blonde cheerleader that Mo caught him with the first few times around. "Are you surprised?" He asked carefully, watching as her slouched posture seemed to sink even further into his sofa.

Mo looked at him briefly in reply before she threw her cell-phone at him; Charlie caught it quite easily despite his lack of athleticism and looked down at the screen.

He already saw the display when he handed her the hot chocolate.

It wasn't a new image either. The same one seemed to appear every single week when Mo showed up at his house.

Scott would be wrapped up in Jules' arms. His head bent over to kiss her. The lighting was pretty bad, but the view of Scott's wrist where his favorite watch was attached was all anyone needed to see.

Ray commented once that Scott lacked imagination if this was all he could do with a girl. Stella promptly shoved him off the sofa.

"Are you going to forgive him?" Charlie asked, still holding her phone in his hand.

"No."

Charlie knew her better.

The next day as Mo, Olivia, Wen and Charlie met outside Vanilla Café; Scott appeared, seemingly on bended knee with a mouth full of apologies and a hand full of roses.

Just like he did every single time he hurt her.

And like clockwork, she would forgive him.

Charlie wondered how she could.

Didn't she ever get tired of being treated like dirt? Didn't she ever think that maybe she could do better? Her replies to such queries were answered with a happy, "No, it's Scott, he's the best." Of course he always choose to ask her after they got back together, he didn't have Wen's cluelessness to ask when she was in tears, or Ray's insensitivity to ask when she was at her weakest nor Stella's lady-balls to ask at the same time her boyfriend would.

When Mo was at her angriest she'd lament to him: "All boys are jerks!"

Inwardly Charlie questioned it, dissecting it in every way possible:

Would a jerk let you waste his Saturdays watching chick flicks, tragic romances and cheesy comedies? Would a jerk let you empty out his fridge of ice-cream? Would a jerk make you hot chocolate after you've kidnapped his favorite blanket? Would a jerk who still has feelings for you, hold you as you cry over another guy that has no right to claim you as his?

Mentally he shook himself off the last thought.

Mo didn't feel the same way.

Mo didn't want him.

He sighed, running a hand over his face as he sat on the sofa by himself on the Friday following Mo and Scott's reconciliation. It had been a week and so far Mo had been happy. She'd bailed on the band in favor of her date with Scott just yesterday. As usual, forgetting the fact that just a week ago, the guy who'd sent her crying was the guy she was ditching her best friends for.

Olivia had been the most understanding of course, but it was obvious that even she was getting tired of the same routine.

Shaking his head, he focused his gaze on the television set before him.

Friday nights was the universal date night.

And though Charlie had an abundance of female admirers, he wasn't keen on going on date with a girl he didn't know. At least that's what he told Ray. The blonde soccer player looked him over, shook his head and said solemnly, "Sooner or later, you're going to get tired of waiting for her." The curly haired drummer replied, "I won't. Don't worry about me." Ray answered in turn, "I'm not, but your band is."

Lemonade Mouth minus Mo, seemed concerned for his emotional well-being, Mo seemed oblivious to it.

Whenever Scott was around, Mo didn't seem to notice anything. Let alone her best friend's emotional standing.

The thought made Charlie feel used, but he shrugged it off.

As long as he could be the guy she needed, whether Mo knew it or not, that was all that mattered.

A beep of his cell-phone caught his attention and grabbing it off the table, Charlie was met with the same text-message that greeted him every week: Can you come pick me up? Automatically, the drummer heaved himself off the comfort of his sofa and walked out the door, readying himself once again to pick up the pieces that Scott had doubtlessly broken again.

Charlie found himself wondering as he drove to her house, if he ever would get tired of putting her back together again.

If maybe he'd get tired of being Just the Friend.

If someday Mo would be in tears and he wouldn't want to help her anymore because it hurt him too much.

The cycle would continue as the universe had planned: Scott would bring her up. Scott would take her down. Scott would beg forgiveness. And she would always grant it.

Maybe that's how the universe wanted it to be.

But even if all the Saints in heaven forgave Scott for breaking Mo's heart over and over again, Charlie knew that he never could.

FINIS

This was sort of an observation I had with some girls with insanely great guy friends. The guys who'd always pick you up when you were down, who'd pick up the pieces of your self-esteem and make you smile and laugh again as if it were nothing; these guys would have all the qualities you'd look for but they've been friend-zoned too far in and you can't picture yourself with them. These are the guys girls should be chasing after.

Hope you guys enjoyed, thanks for reading

Ella Lavender