Title: Under A Paper Moon
Category: TV Shows » Austin & Ally
Author: omnomcookies384
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T
Genre: Drama/Romance
Published: 09-24-14, Updated: 10-01-14
Chapters: 4, Words: 16,811

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

A/N: OH MY GOODNESS HELLO HELLO

Hi guys! thanks for clicking on this story! :D

I know some of you may sort of possibly remember me. If you do, you probably hate me. Because I started writing a story and then... stopped. Without finishing. *gasps* I know that is nothing short of a crime. And I feel terrible.

But I have written another fanfiction (I actually finished it already!) This ol' story here. It's only a four parter I wrote for the Austin & Ally wikia. But when the story finishes in the fourth chapter, you'll actually receive a fifth, bonus, exclusive chapter that I haven't published! So if you like the story, please review, it means so much to me. Honestly. And I worked really hard on this story. :)

This story is based a year after they've all finished high school, meaning if this story was based in 'seasons', this would be season 6. Ally hasn't talked to any of them for a long time, and this is solely in her point of view.

So guys, remember, review if you like! It's only meant to be a short little story, but I really want to see what people think! (I know I have another story in the works, and I might continue the other one I haven't finished... it all depends on how this story goes.)

Remember to read, review, and enjoy - I write these stories for all you fans of the show, and I really hope you all enjoy it! :D

*Disclaimer: I do not own Austin & Ally.* *Copyrighted by me and such.*

"Your microphone is totes state-of-the-art, Ally. It would be fab if you could perform as well!" Megan cheers, fiddling with the small wire strapped to my dress.

"It's just... greaty-great-great." I offer lamely, my palms clammy at my side.

The weather outside is brooding and grey – the Manhattan streets torn asunder by the harsh winter gusts. Small specks of white daintily coat the pavement, as the iconic yellow taxis' make trails in the residue.

I sit in a small, eclectic record store. With companies such as iTunes, and forgoing habits like illegal downloading at an all time high, places like these are dying out like leaves falling from deciduous trees in fall. The homely environment is very ethereal and natural. It's ironic, considering what we're filming here.

"We go live in a sec, all ready?" Megan says from her chair, as correspondents from Cheetah Beat touch up her make-up.

"It's hard to believe you're only fourteen years old." I smile to myself.

"I am fourteen, and I am the best!" She grins, as a camera-man waves at us hastily, directing our attention to the filming instrument.

Right, we're starting. Okay Ally, just breathe. Everything will be okay.

"Hello everybody. I'm Megan Simms, and in this edition of our Cheetah Beat podcast we are honoured to have with us a special guest..." Megan begins, as my eyes drift towards a record on the wall.

Maybe I lied, everything is definitely not okay.

"Ally?" Megan hollers nervously, playing with her hair at an attempt to look casual. It doesn't work.

"What?"

I watch Megan in a jaded haze, as my eyes find themselves transfixed to a certain record on the wall. My heart burns when I see the name 'Austin Moon' etched into it. The thumping of my heart prevents me from hearing the colloquial banter Megan offers to the feeble eyes that watch us from their computers.

Boy, that sounded creepy.

"Uh, aha. Ally, it has been a year since the incident." Megan gestures, a sympathetic expression orchestrating her features. "Are you ready to share it with us all today?"

"I guess we have to. With your camera and all of its' film and all." I attempt to sound calm, which is the opposite of what I am.

"Oh Ally, you're so hilar! But yes, it is time for you to finally break the silence – and tell us how Team Austin broke up."

Megan post-poned broadcast for a breather. I am grateful for that, seeing as I can hardly breath. The golden 'A' dangling from my chest is the only anchor I can find, as it's lure slowly pulls me back to reality – back to this.

I had just recounted all of the important moments of us, Team Austin, before things soured. Around the time we graduated from Marino High School. A year ago.

Honestly, it was a lifetime ago.

"Okay, are you ready for this?" Megan gently proffers, situating a hand on my knee.

"I can do this." I blatantly lie to her, as the rain begins to hit the windows of the record store.

The green light flicks back on the camera, and I can see Megan and I mirrored in the computer placed in front of us. I look like a ghost.

"Now, tell us Ally – what happened?" Megan has her game-face on, and to be honest, it bothers me a little. She treats our tragedy like a performance, when only a moment ago she was my shoulder to cry on.

Journalists.

"Well, it's no happy tale, unfortunately. But to share this story, I must do it on my own terms." I begin, pulling out a progression of four envelopes from my seat.
"Within these envelopes are four letters, written to one Austin Moon. I never had the courage to send them, but inside each letter details exactly what happened. Since Austin will never read them, hey, why don't I read them and have them publicly floating across the internet?" I laugh nervously, as I fold the corner of the first letter.

"It's time." Megan nods, as Jeff (the tech guy) gives his thumbs up in kind recognition of my struggle. If Jeff thinks I can do this, then I can.

I guess.

I take the first letter from its spot inside the envelope, and reveal the hand-written note sprawled across lavender scented paper. (They don't stock pickle scented, so lavenders had to do.)

I purse my lips, and listen to one more beat of my aching heart. Here it is, after a year of highly-sought relinquishment. The truth will be told.

"Dear Austin,

I don't know why I'm sending you this letter. Who knows, perhaps there will be a mailing mishap which sends this letter to an elderly piano tuner, or even a Martian on the moon. (That was a joke, by the way.)

I would like to say I miss you, albeit, I don't think that feeling is requited. I hope it is. It's been so long since I have heard your voice, the very same one that takes my breath away when you sing. No one has ever belonged to a microphone like you do.

But I'm not writing to you today to speak fondly of times passed. What I am doing is finding consolation for what happened to all of us... Team Austin.

I know that it's been a year... you know, since you left, but it's been an enthralling year. I got a job at this big corporation that writes jingles for household products. I wrote the new Minty-Tooth toothpaste jingle. That's right, that was me. And at only nineteen, I'm just on fire!

Not literally.

But technically the jingle was written by Angelica Mortekai, my alias. Since what happened with you and Trish and Dez was so... well, let's not talk about that. Let's talk about now.

I never really imagined seeing you after you left Miami. My father was set to be remarried to a beautiful Ohio woman whom he met at a couponing convention. Just like my father, Julia was frugal beyond belief – which meant that she had sent me to the furthest corners of Italy to retrieve a dress from a woman who sold it for the price of my air-fare.

Porcelli, the town was called. I remember it so vividly, because of the tragic circumstances of that day. The overcast weather was only brighter in comparison to my grudging taxi driver. Across rolling hills he drove, until the small bridge connecting the town of Porcelli to the rest of civilisation came into view.

Three cars honked their horns, as the first had broken down upon the peak of the bridge. It wasn't until powder began falling from the bridge that all the people within those four vehicles realised how old that bridge was – and how weak it had become.

The people within all four vehicles ran to the Porcelli town line, as the bridge – our only gateway to, well, anywhere, fell to pieces in a huge ravine. The chunks, and reminents of the vehicles, fell miles to the ground; The bridge, and our freedom was gone.

And as we had only escaped with our lives, the last thing I expected to see were those large chocolate eyes.

Your eyes."

A/N: And we're done. Thank you for getting through this short, mini intro! The second chapter will be posted in a few days, so remember to review if you want more! And please, be generous with criticisms - I love to learn and adapt and make the best stories I possibly can! :D

So that's all for me, thank you for reading, and I hope to see you guys sharing your thoughts! Until next time, adios! :D

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Hey guys!

Already to chapter two. :) Thank you guys for reading, and I hope I can see more of your feedback! :D Remember to read, review, and rate!

Honestly, if there's something you don't like, even a really stupid insignificant thing, tell me. I'm all about CONSTRUCTIVE advice and becoming a better writer. So if you do that, you'll be helping me a lot! :D

Without further ado, here is the second chapter. Just to refresh your memories, here is what happened last chapter:

SUMMARY SO FAR: Ally is now live with Cheetah Beat, reading out her handwritten letters to Austin (on camera) to explain why Team Austin & Ally broke up.

UNDER A PAPER MOON - ch2

"Austin,

It's me – again. I want to tell you things are different, that I have had a change of heart. Well, I haven't. It's still me, trying to explain to you the actions that may seem crazy to you. Plus, it will make me feel a little better about everything if you knew everything – you'll understand with time.

My heart wants to talk to you about, I don't know, music, us, the current state in which I'm sending this letter.

Well, I'm going to tell you about the ocean.

All I heard was the waves lapping against the rocks jutting out of the cliff. The water fierce and sharp – it cut away the air in which it falls. The ocean is an oddly serene sounding natural wonder – a constant body folding in on itself, calming you by lulling you into a state of tranquil.

With the ocean below me, instead of hearing the merciful waves, all I could hear was my heart beating against my ribcage – which was nowhere near as relaxing – as my heart threatened to palpitate. I was standing atop the bluff in Porcelli, after having watched a bridge collapse.

My past had finally caught up with me, striking me like lightning.

So, there you were, as you watched with horror as your tour bus fell many meters to its' doom at the bottom of the ravine. The carnage, the horrible sound of screeching metal and engines burning – it wasn't good.

My eyes were stuck to you like glue. You sported a leather jacket and a very full back-pack slinging from side to side on one shoulder. Your brows were furrowed in aggravation – you had just lost your home. I can only imagine what that felt like. I was just thankful no fatalities were incurred.

My palms grew clammy as my eyes darted around these strange new surroundings. My taxi driver sat with a macabre expression, gloomily stroking his moustache. The hills rolled across the terrain, a silhouette of the town painted onto the blue skyline.

The sun was at its peak, and my cheeks were red. My chestnut locks covered most of my face, easily concealing my identity. I fiddled with the hem of my dress, as I waited for that dreaded moment of impact –

When you'd notice me.

My eyes stayed firmly situated to my feet. 'No, don't look up.' I chanted in my mind. It felt like lasers were being etched into my back.

Ha, 'don't look up'. What does that remind you of, Austin?

But I refused to turn around. My back was to everything, and everyone, behind me. Symbolic, really. But as I watched the tragedy-stricken vehicles make their way down the stream of water, a sound erupted from the hills behind me.

"Voi bambini stupidi! Cos'hai fatto?!" An elderly woman screeches, as she hobbles down the path to the travesty we created.

Her cane was raised into the air, spinning like she was a helicopter taking flight. Her eyes were dark, menacing – I was terrified.

"Grandmamma!" Another voice shouts, laced with concern.

The townspeople make their way towards the bluff, as I turn around. The elderly lady has her eyes narrowed in on me, cutting open my soul.

"Does anyone speak Italian?" One of the nervous newcomers on the Cliffside squabbles.

I'd know that voice anywhere...

Turning turns into looking, and looking turns into staring.

Trish.

Suddenly, the crowds from Porcelli have flanked, as the small huddle of bridge wreckers quaked with fear.

"What did you do to our bridge?" A beautiful Italian girl asks in horror, clinging to the old lady.

"What bridge? I don't see a bridge!" Dez asked curiously.

Wait, Dez?!

Oh that's right, Austin – I had just won myself a weekend I would never forget.

The townspeople qualm with one another, fluently discussing our fate whilst speaking Italian. But I couldn't care less about what had happened with the bridge – my mind was stuck to the concept of 'Team Austin' being reunited. As you'd very well know, I hadn't seen any of you since, well, the incident, so I was a mess.

The pretty Italian with large blue eyes makes her way through the rift between the Porcelli people, and us.

"Hello, my English is not well, but – I am Amelia." She offers nervously, stuttering as she speaks.

"Our people – we're not harass. Wait, no, that's not correct. No, I mean – we're not happy." Her hands are shaking nervously at her side, and I just stare at her with bewilderment. I mean, were we that much a threat? And how can someone so beautiful and graceful be so afraid to talk to people?

"The bottom line is, you broke our bridge. You come into town, while we repair bridge. You'll pay off your debt to the town by working until you can go home." Amelia looks behind to the old lady, her grandmother, as she mouths words to her in Italian.

"How long will we be stranded here?" Austin pipes up, clearly agitated.

Amelia straightens her posture, exhaling audibly. "Uh, for our stone mason to gather the materials, and for us to ensemble the people to build it – you'll be here for at least a week or two."

"WHAT?" All of us screamed, as the townspeople sniggered and rolled their eyes.

Then began the old lady's rant, in Italian, which had a duration of around twenty minutes. I was lost in the clouds that floated in the sky, as I reminisced times that were long gone.

You could guess what they were, Austin.

So, time flew by like the birds who chirped within the trees that lined the streets of Porcelli. The town itself was an old town, built by stone, and can be seen as a village in some respects. There are no telephone wires, no cars, no real signs of technology whatsoever.

But, as we were marched down the main street, the townspeople stared. Amelia led us through narrow alley ways and across plains, and I still hadn't amounted the courage to look up. I hadn't looked any of you in the eye, I wasn't even sure if you knew it was me.

Time would tell.

Finally, our march was over. Amelia had led us to a small building behind a luxurious homestead on the outskirts of the town (which wasn't very big, by the way.)

"Well, here is where you'll be stay." Amelia gulped, as she pried open the doors of the building.

It was a barn.

A cow could be heard moo-ing in the distance, as a gaggle of geese cut through the air, coating us in their stray feathers.

There were only three people at my side. The other members from the vehicles, my taxi driver included, seemed to escape blame (and received better accommodation) because everything that goes wrong in this town seems to be at the fault of the young.

I respected their ideals. I didn't agree, but I respected them.

"So there's no way I can call home?" you sighed, as you ruffled your hair in contempt.

"No, not possible. Sorry." Amelia enthused, her eyes lingering on you for longer than I would have deemed comfortable.

Without another word, Amelia trapezes back to the town, leaving the four of us in this faux living arrangement.

I avoid all eye contact.

"Hi, I'm Austin." You offered awkwardly, as I finally elevate my head. You hadn't seen me – nobody ever sees me these days.

Your eyes meet mine for the first time in so long. The life in your features literally disappears, like the trickle of water droplets in the weather. You didn't move, I'm not even sure you blinked; you just stared at me like I stared at you.

And no, this wasn't the sort of staring that used to occur in Sonic Boom- that staring was playful flirting and painstakingly obvious feelings that resonated whenever we glanced at each other. No, this staring was different – it was like we had exhumed a corpse, both together and on our own.

"Ally?" You croaked, your voice broken beyond recognition.

"Oh my god..." Dez gasped, as Trish covered her mouth.

My heart sank further when I saw you all. No, I'm not getting emotional – even after two seconds, I could tell that you were all so different.

Dez was wearing a business suit. He looked clean, sharp – and so different. There was not an odd colour or pattern to him – just various shades of white. His hair is slicked back like a stock broker, and his voice is so timid and deadpan, it seems as though he has no personality.

He is now a director for a teen soap opera on cable television. I'd seen the show a few times, but really, the Dez I knew would never have wanted to be where he now stood.

A more subtle change had incurred in Trish. I had seen all the magazine articles and newspaper clippings. After Team Austin, it seemed that it wasn't just me that disbanded – everyone did. And Trish became a dragon lady.

She accumulated clients like trophies, and never allowed herself to attach herself to them emotionally in any sort of way. She was rough, she was loud and she was rude – but she got results. Being a manager for so many different talents (and non-talents) and having no friends would have taken a toll. Even by looking at her right now, I could tell she was lonely.

Then there was you, Austin. I hadn't read of your misfortunes like Trish, nor did I see them on your face like Dez. But I could feel that something was amiss, a hunch that was confirmed when our eyes connected for the first time.

I said nothing, my lips were closed. I could invoke any words to describe what had just happened. You all stood like zombies as I faded away, and cornered myself in the barn.

It wasn't just my stage-fright that ate at me these days – now you three too.

Okay, if that wasn't bad enough, times had passed. It was now three days since Dez (yes, it was Dez) collapsed that bridge.

I never looked at any of you – I simply couldn't. Small titbits of guilt swirled around in the back of my mind, but my heart was still hurting too much to allow myself to act any differently.

Like Agnes (the old lady) had promised, we'd be put to remedial farm work to pay off our debt to Porcelli.

We ate meals at different tables. We did chores in different sectors. You spent most of your time hanging with Amelia. Dez befriended the village's goat. As for Trish, she worked in the kitchen with Agnes.

I stacked jars in their basement.

I literally spent those days in silence, all alone, reliving the pain of utter humiliation and betrayal over and over. Thinking how losing Team Austin made Ronnie Ramone fire me, and sending me back into the cave known as 'stage-fright.' It's a dark place to be, especially when you don't have a torch to light it.

So when you walked through the basement door, your face distorted in disgust, I almost collapsed on the floor.

A small grate let small rays of sun soak the stone flooring. Hundreds upon hundreds of preserved fruits and chutneys are stacked along the wooden shelves, that of which I'm now accountable for. You look grieved as you tread closer, as my anxiety bubbles within.

"Uh, Amelia said I had to work, so..." you drifted off, my eyes still on the jars.

You shuffled awkwardly as I ignored you. I didn't want to ignore you, Austin. I just – what could I say? 'Oh buddy pal, just slip over here and stack those jars like a champ!'

I could have. But I didn't.

Instead I opted for bitter silence.

You rustle through one crate of jars, as you pick some up, looking at the relish and chutney inside them, and I could see out the corner of my eye you contemplating putting them in your mouth.

"Don't eat it." I said monotonously, the first words spoken to you in, well, forever.

Your neck snapped towards me immediately, your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. "You can't tell me what to do."

So we worked at a sluggish pace. Now Austin, you need to know why I said nothing in that silence. You probably didn't realise that I sensed the reason you were at Porcelli at that time. I knew from the get-go that Amelia was your girlfriend. I didn't say a word because there were no words to encapsulate how betrayed I felt – that you had all moved on with your lives whilst I was still trying to get back on my feet.

As for motives, I know Trish was in Porcelli following a client in the hopes of signing them. Dez was trying to scout locations for his show.

After a chilling coat of silence, you finally spoke up.

"This sucks. I am performing at the Grammy awards on Saturday." You remarked, placing more jars in their place.

One thing I also knew was that you didn't write any of your music anymore – you were fed lyrics from a corporate company.

"Well... congratulations." I said without emotion.

"So... why are you in this town?" You questioned dubiously, an eyebrow arched.

"I was picking up the wedding dress. The wedding is also on Saturday, and... I'm going to miss it." My eyes become glassy, and I try to discreetly wipe away the tear.

You notice.

"Ally.. I... you can't stay mad at me okay? Like, I know.." You began, but that was interrupted by the jar that smashes to the ground. You dropped a jar.

You dropped a jar full of pickles.

"Austin, I know how you feel, okay? You don't care about me anymore, I get it? I don't expect you to! And I don't want your apology, or your sympathy... I just want you to stop making this so hard. My heart, it burns whenever your name is splashed across the media, or posted on every street corner. Because, unlike you, my life isn't great!" I slam the jar angrily on the shelf, sadness contorting my features.

"I just feel sick, all the time, knowing I lost something so valuable. I think about it all the time. But you – you threw it away! Treated it, me, like garbage! Austin, I can't pretend it never happened." My voice is booming and croaking. Your eyes are rimmed in red, as I avert my gaze.

"I don't want to be seen as the disappointment anymore, alright? Just... leave me alone, like you did before." I croak, as I race out of the room.

In those moments, I thought your mind was swirling with rage and anger. I thought you burned with the hatred of my actions, and my melodramatic rant.

What I didn't know then was the fact that you never hated me. No, you'd stir in your sleep, awake with the horror of what you did to me.

You lived in guilt.

And it took me too long to realise, long after these events had taken place (about four months) that it wasn't just guilt that drove you crazy.

You still loved me. You broke my heart.

But you wanted to help pick up the pieces."

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

A/N: Hi everyone! It's me again, with the next instalment. Now I must warn you – each chapter seems to get longer and longer (without my permission!) So I really hope you don't find this tedious or boring. :)

But anyways, I really hope you enjoy it! Reviews mean so much to me, so if you could shoot me one, you'd be my superhero. 3

Happy reading!

"Dear Austin,

All I remember is shattering. The fragmented glass jutting out in all directions, catching the light and casting it across the room. That's where we left our story. Our story.

You always had a knack of making me smile in the most sullen situations. It was the simple things that did. For example, you watching the birds slice through the air and smiling, knowing they were making the journey and were part of a family. You probably thought I hadn't noticed that, huh?

Well Austin, I always notice.

So, there's a lot of things I hadn't gotten time to miss while I was in New York, studying at college. I had forgotten of the simplicity of being part of a bigger family, moving all together in separate parts but joining collectively as one. I had never gotten a large family, seeing as my only close family members were divorced. That's why I envied you in Porcelli, slipping into the folds of Amelia's family like a puzzle piece. You belonged to someone, and had a family to love you.

I wish I could say the same.

It was the first Thursday after the bridge deteriorated. My dad's wedding was slotted in for Saturday, meaning I needed at least three and a half miracles to get there on time. They were probably so worried, I was due home a day ago. Poor Julia, never got to wear the beautiful dress she was destined to wed my father in.

My time in the cellar was up at this point. After a certain 'jarring' moment (haha, get it Austin? Because jar – oh, never mind) I was reinstated to work the kitchen with Agnes and Trish. I was petrified, seeing as Agnes really had something against me. I'd walk by her, and she would give me a greasy that had been brewing for nothing short of seventy years.

I still sat all alone in the corner of the barn. The families in Porcelli weren't too concerned with our comfort, so we continued to be prodded and harassed like the animals whose home we now stayed in. The sun had only just peaked over the horizon, when five consecutive knocks stirred me from my slumber.

I was itching all over. The straw was our only form of comfort, and as the golden rods were driven into my side, my skin was drawn in red like chalk to a chalkboard.

I groggily paced myself across the floor, making sure not to wake anyone else up (I don't know why I offered that courtesy.) The door creaked as I pulled it towards me, a beam of light protruding through the gap I'd created.

"Grandmamma wants girls in kitchen, now." Amelia pursed her lips, doing all she could to avoid my gaze.

"You mean Trish?" I stammered, turning around to my former best friend, motionless with sleep.

Amelia swept her charcoal locks from her face, and nodded in affirmation. "Yes."

I took a deep breath. None of us had changed clothes in a few days, and the cracks were really showing. Our hair was fluffed in unnatural ways. My hair resembled a cloud. And not the cloud you'd make a wish on – no. It was more like a suffocating raincloud of darkness.

Trish was my raincloud.

With Amelia staring intently into my being, I knew I had to wake Trish up. Even when we were on good terms, that was a struggle. Now though? It was the last thing I wanted to do.

I inched closer to her, the back of her head streamed with her curls. As I tread across the straw silently, I had a startling thought – what if she didn't come? And she was kicked out of town?

Wait, was I empathising with Trish again?

I narrowed in on her, as I kneeled beside her. With a deep breath, I braved the consequences and placed a hand firmly on her side.

"Trish," I cooed gently, trying my best not to sound as horrified as I was. "We have to get up. Agnes has requested us."

"Huuuh?" Her eyes still full with sleep, Trish rose with a dim look on her face. She scratched her head, not fully coherent.

"Okay, this way." I directed, linking my arm in hers tentatively. Trish's eyes were still closed, as I led her across the barn and to Amelia waiting on the other side.

"Follow." Amelia barked out, as I was caught completely off-guard. Amelia was a fragile girl, she reminded me of the dandelions in the meadows I used to call home. Her ferocity was from a place much deeper than Trish and I could comprehend.

Well, Trish would have to be awake to comprehend anything, and awake she was not.

We followed Amelia up the steady incline to her homestead. I had to lead Trish all the way, as she slept walked.

"Are you Ally?" Trish murmured dazedly, her smile misplaced on her face.

I turned to her and raised my eyebrow, only to realise she couldn't see it anyway. "Uh, yeah?"

"So you're my best friend Ally? The one that I think about every day? The one that I miss more than anything in the world?" Trish is giggling now, but I don't think she understood what she was saying. Her thoughts were unfiltered, spluttering out without her permission. These were her true intentions.

My eyes were pricked with tears when she made the sentiment.

"I hope I'm that Ally." I mumble, leaning in closer to her.

"You're definitely that Ally. I miss my Ally." Trish was still completely out of it, walking around like a zombie. For once, I didn't mind her tardiness and her addiction to sleep. My heart bubbled with the warmth of our friendship, and it meant so much to know that is how she felt. After all this time.. she still cared for me, like I'd cared for her.

Trish gripped my hand harder, as she started to come to consciousness. Her eyes blinked thrice, before one more confession slid of her tongue before she fully awoke.

"My Ally... the one Austin lov-" She began, as Amelia had pushed us to a stop.

What were you going to say, Trish?

We reached a narrow doorway to lead into the kitchen of Amelia's family home. Her arms were folded with the aggravation we didn't know she possessed. Her timid, perhaps shy ways were amidst that of rage.

"Inside. Now." Amelia pushed us both through the door, and slammed it against our backs with no warning. Trish jumped five feet in the air, her eyes snapping open.

"How the heck did I get here?" She scoffed, as she turned to me.

We were standing within the family's provincial kitchen. Windows spanned the walls, streaming in light from the paddocks. A few other women hurried in and out of the kitchen, crafting different dishes in large quantities.

"Hi girls, I'm Desidre. I'm Amelia's mother, and Agnes' daughter." She greeted us warmly, whilst placing two cloths in our hands.

"It's my father's birthday today. We've got a huge celebration planned, but we need you to clean up, alright?" Desidre looked much like her daughter, with an iridescent glow to her skin.

Trish's expression was hazed with confusion. "How come so many of you speak English?"

"Oh... my late husband was American." Without a word, Desidre disappeared back into the flurry of women baking, with Trish and I standing there in perplexity.

We moved silently over to the sink where we were wanted, and ran the water. This is the cleanest either of us had been for days. As we graced the fabric to the dirtied equipment, I still couldn't rid myself of the grin that Trish's friendship confession gifted me.

"You made some interesting comments while you were sleepwalking." I phased, not lifting an eye from the plates.

"Huh?" Trish sounded terrified, turning to me in terror.

"Simmer down Trish," I laughed whilst watching her delayed reaction "it was just... you said you missed me."

Silence encompassed us. Many dishes piled up besides us, and we refused to say another word, or glance at another dish. She and I just stared at each other.

Until Trish coerced me into a hug.

"I miss you so much, Ally. It's crazy." She breathed into my shoulder, as she gripped tighter.

"I guess it's a good thing then, that I'm never letting you go again."

And as everything in that kitchen faded away, the cords of music long lost to me were struck again in my heart.

Trish and I managed to finish all the dishes without breaking anything. Music blared from the record player in the lounge, and many of the older women commented on how good my dancing is!

I just thought I'd tell you that, Austin.

Anyway, the celebrations were at an all time high. The townspeople respected Ramos, Amelia's grandfather. His birthday, seeing as he was a past mayor of the town, had sparked a widespread festivity. Dainty fairy lights glowed above the streets, with food dispensed everywhere you look.

We were given the afternoon off, to do whatever we pleased. We all took it as a pleasing, when really it was just Agnes' way of telling us how much we [don't] mean to them.

Not that I minded.

The children of the town ran with merriment, bouncing around, hyped up on sugar. Their sing-song laughter chorused through the streets, revibrating up my spine. It was a joyous sound, just another reason my lips were curled upwards.

Then I noticed the park area, where many had gathered. All the townsfolk were swaying to the classical tunes, dancing with a partner. A tart placed in my mouth, I watched with envy as the pairs danced with the one they loved.

There was one couple that stood out to me.

They were both young children, no older than six. The girl donned a beautiful golden gown, spiralling at the hand of her partner. Both of the children giggled, unable to reciprocate the feelings thought were unrequited. The innocence of their dance lacked the complication of relationships beyond their years. To be young means simply to live happily. There are no rules, no expectations. All you do is that which makes you happy.

That's where you come in, Austin.

You stand at my shoulder, as I glance across the street to the dancing.

"Hi." You offered gingerly, flanking to my side.

"Hi, Austin." I responded softly, my eyes still on the party.

"I'm... well, yesterday was awkward. I shouldn't have confronted you like that." You responded sincerely, spinning me around to face you. The breeze blew your hair in all directions, and I knew you hated it. But you resisted the urge to flatten your mop just to keep an air of seriousness around me. It was very sweet of you.

"Well, I really shouldn't have snapped." I callously shrug, returning my gaze to the party.

Conversation dulled, no more words spoken. I didn't feel the need to add anything. All I do know was Trish had restored my mood, so I wasn't eager to make snide judgements at you.

You, on the other hand, opted to fill the silence. "So are you excited for the wedding?"

My expression animated with sadness. "Of course I am. But it doesn't matter anyway, I'm not going to make it." I scratch tentatively at a spot on my wrist, as your eyes question me every which way.

"You didn't quite sound sincere when you said that."

Ding ding ding. "Well... okay, I haven't danced publically for such a long time, and... I'm scared." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, as you return the gesture with a chortle.

"What? That's ridiculous." You continued to laugh, as I glowered at you.

It was then you realised I was serious. "Oh...well, how about I teach you? I mean, I've done it before, how hard can it be?" You offered up selflessly.

I bet you wished you hadn't.

Of five minutes of intense shuffling, my hands grew clammy whilst they were placed in yours. My heart rhythmically beat uncomfortably in my chest while you were so close, an unrest I can only imagine was mirrored in your own. I felt so... odd. It was strange to be within such close proximity to you again.

Plus, I did step on your feet... a lot. Although some stamps were put in edgewise, I didn't mean to hit you every single time.

But you persevered... you didn't give up on me. So we continued to dance, the music only an echo, as you vowed to teach me to such a standard that I would be excited for the wedding.

Much time passed, and the sky was painted pink. A few people to pass stared at us weirdly, for dancing on our own in the middle of the party. I didn't mind too much, surprisingly. Hey, it was even a little fun.

But your vision caught Amelia's, and immediately you stepped away.

"Well Ally, I can confidently say you improved." He nodded awkwardly, rocking back and forth on his feet.

"You're a pretty good teacher." I complimented, as a smile unfurled on your face. I would be lying if I didn't say my heart beat a little bit faster when you did that.

"Well.. see ya." With that, off you ran to Amelia at the actual party. I sighed, watching you leave... again. I'm kind of accustomed to it now. I guess it's kind of payback for yesterday. Whatever.

I could feel eyes bore into my side, which caused an unrest inside me. Clearly uncomfortable, I turn to find Agnes gossiping viciously in Italian while pointing at me. Caught completely off guard, I scuttle away... until I run into Trish.

Quite literally.

"Watch it, Ally. There are other people walking, too." Trish laughed, playfully bumping my shoulder.

"Are we... not good?" Trish's words were laced with concern, to which I took back immediately.

"No no no no," I chanted insistently, proving a point. "It's just.. old lady Agnes treats me worse than the rest of you. I think some of it has rubbed off on Amelia."

Trish's eyes narrowed on me, looking at me with utter disappointment.

"You can't tell me you don't know why."

"Well that's awkward, because I can't tell you why."

Trish took a deep breath, accounting for total lung capacity. She looked tired, and also quite annoyed that I wasn't able to articulate it for myself. "Ally... they don't like the fact you're here. Everyone, even the people in the middle of nowhere, has seen those gossip magazines. They know your history with Austin. And now they see you two together... they can see the chemistry. Agnes just wants her grand-daughter to be happy, and she can see the similarities between the two of you. Shy, beautiful... she knows why Amelia is the first proper girlfriend Austin has had since you two broke up."

The fairy lights twinkled above us, as darkness blanketed the sky. The music was still sounding, and many vocal villagers hustled about the premise with excited chatter.

"Trish, that's absolutely – wait, he hasn't had any other girlfriends?" My mind was in five places at once. Part of me couldn't believe what Trish had said, yet some of me wanted to. Then at the back of my mind, warnings were flashing – they knew what was happening.

"Nope. Flings, yeah... but splitting up with you was probably the hardest things he ever had to do. It damaged him in a way that couldn't be repaired. Well, until he met you again."

Is that true, Austin?

My mouth forgot how to form words. My tongue was useless, as no words could escape the firm threshold of my lips.

"I... I'm gonna go."

Without another word, I walked away. Not to the barn, of course. Why would I want to go there? I just walked across the luscious scenery of the gardens, hidden within the crowds of people. No one stopped to recognise me, or acknowledge me. I was kind of used to that. So I settled into everyone else's shadow, as the rest of them jumped around and had fun.

"Please!" A kid whined, tugging at someone's pants. I couldn't discern the face because they were strung in the middle of the crowd of dancers.

With a sigh of contempt, you emerged from the crowd, hugging your backpack to your stomach. That bag was really the only materialistic possession that was salvaged in the great bridge fall.

I leaned against the chair as far as I could without falling. I didn't want you to see me, although I didn't know why. I put it down to the fact I had nothing to form into a conversation.

"Let me play with it!" The child threw a tantrum, and you shaked your head while smirking.

"Okay, but I get Doughie!" Your childish side was all exposed for those watching. I felt more and more like a stalker, as I tried to disappear into the hedge. But I fell short when you pulled the toy out of your bag.

Doughie the Dolphin.

"Why do you have a soft toy?" The kid taunted you, as your cheeks were glowing crimson.

"Doughie isn't just a toy, Evan. He's... special. He was from a special friend of mine." You were kneeled next to him, levelling with him on a level he'd understand. You were so amazing with kids.

You became lost in thought while looking at the plush animal. My throat gasped for air. The young kid began to turn to me, so I leaped across the hedge. I couldn't have managed an exit more conspicuous.

Most of the people turned to see the site of the loud thud sound. You included. But my identity was hidden behind the shroud, and I made a run for it before anyone could pin it on me.

I should have been concerned that everyone was looking at me, the way that I hated. But instead, my mind was left wondering more and more why you wouldn't fade from mine.

+ They spend the day helping with the bridge, as Austin saves Ally's life. In the barn, as no one can sleep, Austin sings "Can't do it without you" and the four chime in.

Friday. Four and a half miracles still required. The day was dreary and overcast, a comparison to the day before, which left most the town partying all night.

Tomorrow was the wedding. It was also your awards ceremony. Luck can only go so far for an international pop star and his washed up ex-partner.

The thought hung over me like a cloud. I could barely invoke the will to move. With Trish by my side, we all ate breakfast at the table in the park. Porridge was our delicacy, and Dez spooned his full of honey. Not many of us were willing to take the risk of senseless splendour.

Amelia appeared at your side, her smile spellbinding. I was a little apprehensive when your expression looked more bored than pleased.

"Alright guys, I have good and bad news." Amelia stated, slowly sliding the honey jar towards her.

"Good, goOD, GOOD." Dez screamed, leaving all of our ears vibrating.

"The bridge construction is underway. We're building it now!"

The four of us cheered in victory, jumping up and down with glee. I hugged Trish, as we all laughed with the momentous joy the news gave us.

Until I realised that, no matter how fast they can build that bridge, it was already too late for me.

My expression fell as I floated back into my seat.

"What's the bad news?" You asked, nudging Dez.

"Well... you're helping. You're going to be builders for the day!" Amelia applauded with faux excitement.

"Isn't that a bit of a OH and S?" I inquired, referring to the danger we'd face constructing a bridge.

"Well, if something does happen to you, we won't have to worry about you complaining, do we?" Amelia's joke missed the mark, leaving us all trembling. The air drew thick with the awkwardness Amelia had wedged between us.

"I'm going to leave now..." And off she took, leaving us all exchanging glances of unadultered terror.

None of us were willing to see what would happen if we didn't do what we were told. We all silently made our way to the build site, which mainly consisted of middle aged men. None of which spoke English by the way, which meant the entire exercise turned out to be a deadly game of charades.

The builders would frantically point at a slate stacked with cinderblocks, as Dez scratched his head.

"Banana? Charcoal? Disestablishmentarianism?" He continued to guess, as the builders got more and more frustrated.

We were all exhausted. Besides you Austin, who worked out all the time. I knew this because you insisted you take your shirt off to build. I thought the notion was a little stupid, but it seemed to attract Amelia to the worksite. Among a few other teenage girls in the town.

"Austin, you're like a magnet. Get your damned shirt back on!" Trish chastised, as you blatantly refused. You thrived on the attention. It annoyed me a little.

"Ally, you've got to move that cinderblock more to the left. It will fall if you leave it like that." Amelia yawned, sitting atop the pile of building equipment.

I looked down at the block I just placed. Amelia looked sincere in her request, but I couldn't help but notice the flash of envy that burned behind her eyes.

"Okay, whatever..." I chuffed, willing just to listen to her to get it out of the way.

The block was wedged along the platform, against several others. This part of the bridge was floating above the ravine, a long fall town. I tried to pry the block out of its' place, but it was stuck. I turned to Amelia hopelessly, and her expression was livid. I knew exactly what would happen if I didn't do this – and I didn't want that to become reality. So I persevered at the block.

"Hurry up!" Amelia chorused, as I rolled my eyes. This earned a grin from you.

After the remedial work for so many hours, I used one final burst of energy to free the block. And I did.

But I also lost my grip.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" I screamed, as I catapulted backwards. No one had time to react, and I didn't have time to process what was happening until it was too late.

I was falling off the bridge.

Miles down to the ground.

Where my death await.

Time slowed. People clamoured around the edge, as they screamed out my name, trying to reach me. They couldn't.

My heart was beating through my ears, as the air pushed past me. The people of the bridge grew smaller and smaller, and all I could see was a blond-haired boy hanging off the bridge... but it was too late.

"Austin..." I whispered, clamping my eyes shut.

I didn't want to know what happened next.

All I knew was that my story – it was over.

A high pitched scream erupted from above, as I saw a figure falling towards me. I was three quarters of the way, and the shadow only confirmed what I knew.

Until you wrapped your arms around me.

A small piece of rope was tied to your ankle, as you gripped me in your arms for dear life. We were so close, I could feel your heart beating against mine. Out of breath, I stare hopelessly into your eyes. You saved me.

You were quite literally my superhero.

Your arms were wound around me so tightly, and I pressed myself against your bare chest. The people on the bridge yanked the rope with difficulty, trying to pull us up. What seemed like an eternity was over within seconds. You cringed as they finally pulled us up onto the perch of the bridge.

Amelia stared at us with wide eyes.

"Ow!" You cried, falling into the grass on stable land.

I saw your leg. The rope had burned it, crazily. Not only was your ankle rimmed in red, but layers of skin were broken. You looked like you were in immense pain.

"Austin!" I clamoured over to you, trying pointlessly to evaluate the injury and make it better. Using a stream of water and cloth from the site, I wrapped it around your ankle hopelessly.

We said nothing in this exchange. I mean, what could we have said? You had just saved my life. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, my eyes were watery, and you looked abosultely pained.

But none of that mattered.

We made it – together.

Clearly, we were excused from bridge work. We all walked back to our barn (besides you, who hobbled like a penguin) and literally hit the hay. We were exhausted. I was more so than the others, after having, you know, almost died.

If not for the divine intervention of you, Austin Moon.

And as we all lay still in our makeshift beds, I inched closer to the three of you. With the stars reflected outside the grate of the window, and as I was lulled into sleep, a beautiful song erupted from your mouth.

"There's no way I can make it without you, do it without you, be here without you..." You sang, your acoustics more beautiful than I ever recalled your voice being.

Your voice was not much louder than a whisper, but it screamed volumes. The sound, so beautiful, continued. No one else said anything. You just sang as my eyes grew heavy with sleep. You gave me something very simple, Austin. And as I lay there, my dreams seconds away, I knew for sure that you all were the dream I had been chasing. As my eyes fluttered shut –I finally felt true, I finally felt like I was home.

A/N: *wipes eyes*

This chapter got so intense without my permission ahahah. This chapter just got crazy!

I honestly hope you liked it though, and remember to tell me if you did! Leave me a review and make my day. 3

I have a new story coming tonight, 'Once'. If you liked this story, you'll love that one. It navigates a world where Austin & Ally aren't famous, but are best friends... sounds boring, but check it out! I would love to have a few more readers on my side.

Anyways, that's all for me you guys. :) Remember to leave a review, and be prepared for the fourth (and final) chapter before the epilogue...

So what do you think of Ally's character development? Do you think they'll ever get out of Porcelli? Will Ally ever make it to the wedding in time? Austin to the Grammys?

OoOOoOOoOoOoh so much suspense! You better stay tuned. ;)

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and remember to tell me if you did! 'Til next time,

Adios!

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

A/N: OH MY GOD I'M AT THE END OF THIS STORY ALREADY AAAHHHH

I'll be brief from here on out. Thank you so much for reading this story and being a part of the journey. It means so much to me that people have read it. I just hope you guys can leave a review to tell me how you felt about it! :D

Just as a refresher, here is a summary to lead into the final chapter -

SUMMARY: Set in three years time from the current season, we see Ally Dawson living with the aftermath of the collapse of 'Team Austin'. She'd been reverting to her shy, insecure self, and she no longer had her friends to help her out of her shell. As it happened, fate aligned the four to meet once again in the small rural town of Porcelli, Italy. Their motives for being there were all different, but after the bridge collapse, no one could get out of town. They were forced to stay together.

And through this time, they all began to bond again. Old feelings were stirred, and friendships reconciled. But with Austin desperate to take his girlfriend Amelia to the Grammy awards to perform as he'd promised and Ally hoping to get back to Miami to see her father re-wed, a lot of hope was fading.

Their fates will be decided in this final instalment of 'Under A Paper Moon'.

"Dear Austin,

There are a lot of things that have been left unsaid between us. Both past and present, a silence has encompassed our lips – even when words are spoken. It's not enough to appreciate someone from afar anymore, all of these messages have to be broadcast. That scares me. It scares me that no one but me knows who I am.

Well, maybe you did. A long time ago.

Anyway, that's not where I left you before. It was dawn, and I sat on the small incline looking over the bridge to Porcelli. The dew stuck to the blades of grass, and I nestled into the earth, absorbing the comfort nature gave.

My eyes once again wandered to the bridge - they had finished building it.

The moon was still painted up in the sky, and a few stray stars dotting their way around a rising sun. The weather was chilly, as I tucked myself into a ball.

I watched the completed bridge with complete melancholy – it may be built, but it's already Saturday. Basically, it means I'd missed the wedding.

The only moment that my father needed me to be there for him, and I missed it.

That's why I was awake at what could be construed as an ungodly hour. The time gave me pure serenity and bliss, silence blanketing the hills where I now sat. My face was pale with the reality I had come to face, a grimace permanently contorting my features.

It's like high school all over again.

While I sat there, on my own, I had a lot of time to reflect. I thought about my reconciliation with Dez, Trish, and you. I also burdened myself with the guilt of abandoning my father on one of the merriest days of his life. To top it all off, I was the reason you could have died.

I'll stop you there, because you're no doubt screaming at me from wherever you're reading this letter. You'd probably argue that your jumping was of no representation of my decision. Well really, it was. I should have stabilised myself. I should have – I don't know. It sounds better in my head. But Austin, I'll carry with me forever that vision of you falling... with me.

I believe that was the exact moment I realised I could never hate you, no matter how much protest I gave profusely in the months leading up to the catalytic event.

Anyway, I was sitting on the bluff, lamenting everything that was going wrong with my life (which happened to be nearly everything at the time).

"Ally?" A voice quivered from behind.

It was no surprise to me to learn that the residents of Porcelli were early risers.

I swivel on the ground, but remained situated on the grass. "Oh... hi Amelia."

With a thread of hair tied between her fingers, Amelia looked a nervous wreck. Her iridescent glow was somehow dimmed by this ugly guilt she dirtied herself with. She looked truly inconsolable.

"Ally, I almost killed you yesterday!" She blurted out, her hands flailing to her sides.

Well, in retrospect, I can't say I don't agree.

"You couldn't have possibly known I was going to fall." I reasoned with her, rising to my feet.

Amelia screwed up her face, revolted by the way I worded it. "It was still my fault!"

And so a pointless argument blossomed. We stood there, idle with nothing but our own admissions of guilt (nothing dissimilar to a tennis match).

Until we were suddenly interrupted by an ominous slicing sound.

"Huuuuh?" We both retorted in unison.

Our eyes shifted from the bridge to the outline of the town behind. It stood sturdily along the cliff face, yet something felt amiss. There was something wrong with this picture – I just couldn't peg what it was.

And I was normally pretty good at picking out faults, like I used to do so often with myself.

"What was that?" Amelia shrieked, quaking with the fear of the unknown.

So, like that, we decide to race aimlessly towards the imminent danger. The sound soon turned into 'wooshing', and my interest was piqued. A million thoughts were racing around inside my head, my brain now resembling a race car track. But with all these ideas, it seemed the most obvious was the true one.

As Amelia and I ambled into the town square, we saw the focal point that so many Porcelli citizens had gathered to admire –

There was a helicopter planted within the middle of the pavement.

The crowd of Italians were silenced with both curiosity and confusion. The sleek, charcoal black blades of the vehicle were the most modern thing within the town. As most buildings had paint chips, and the walkway trotted on by thousands, the glossy copter stood out like a boat in the sea.

Everyone was entranced by the helicopter. The pilot had yet to reveal themselves, and the crowd hushed indistinctly between one another. What could a stranger possibly be doing in Porcelli?

Suddenly, a man with silver hair emerges from the vehicle. Dressed entirely in black, the pilot wore a brazen smile and braved the Italian soil.

Nobody said a word as he made his way through the crowd.

"I'm here for an 'Austin Moon'?"

My heart fell through my chest.

"That's me, that's me!" You hollered from the back of the crowd. You made your way to the forefront, meeting the smiling pilot. "Take me home!"

So that was it. You were out to fulfil your purpose, to perform at the Grammys. The helicopter would only allow room for one more passenger, undoubtfully Amelia, to accompany you as your date. (This theory was confirmed as Amelia seductively wrapped her arms around your waist, connecting to you at the hip.)

This would no doubt be the last time I'll ever see you.

But then you turned around.

You looked directly at me.

And I swore I could see you smile through your eyes.

"Amelia..." you began hesitantly, dragging your eyes away from me and forcing them on Amelia.

"Yeah, babe?"

"You're not coming to the Grammy's with me... and I think we should break up."

I will be the first to admit I did not see that coming. I must say Austin, that was a little insensitive of you. I mean, you dumped Amelia in front of her entire town. You should have seen the looks Agnes darted into your back.

Anyways, I didn't stay long to absorb Amelia's heartbroken facade. Instead, I opted to walk back into the Porcelli kitchen and begin with my duties. Now that everyone was up, there was probably work for me to do.

And I didn't want to have to say goodbye to you again, knowing you were jetting off to America.

So at a grudging pace, I returned to the kitchen I'd been assigned to (gender inequity, anyone?) as I began scrubbing dishes. The suds rose to the top of the sink, as I scoured each piece of equipment to ensure they were immaculate.

I don't know how long I was cleaning for. I assumed a while, seeing as the sun had peaked over the horizon when I consciously took note of the time.

All was going well too. I was cleaning, I was focused, I was getting my job done...

Well, that was the case until you walked into the kitchen.

"Ally, I need to talk to you." You exasperated, leaning on the counter behind me.

"Austin... they prepare pasta there. Stopping sitting on it." I swat him with my towel, as we both jovially giggle like little kids.

Then my expression, now eerily sombre, droops when I realise that you're saying goodbye.

I look at you intuitively, as your lips purse themselves to sputter out words. "Ally... I want you to come back with me."

I drop the plate in my hands. (Which with your lightning fast reflexes catches, saving me a stern talking to from Agnes. I never thanked you for that.)

"What, you just want me to totter down with you to the Grammies like it's no big deal?" I exclaim, stunned.

"What do you mean, Ally? Are we not... okay?" You murmured, both coy and unable to meet my eye. I always broiled you under pressure – it was the only way I could get emotive answers out of you.

I consider your statement for a moment, placing the towel untailored on the bench. "I'm not comfortable to face the public with you anymore.. I mean, look what happened last time?" The words bitter in my mouth. The incident... I can never get over the incident.

"I don't think you understand what I'm trying to say, Ally... I'm going to give up my Grammy performance. Instead, I want to take you to your dad's wedding in Miami." You make your doe eyes at me, your lips half curled upwards. My heart began to melt.

"Austin, that's so sweet..." I began, only to realise it's too late. "But we'd never make it in time."

"You're forgetting something, Ally – timezones. It's Friday in Miami right now, and that means-" I cut you off.

"We can make it!" The kitchen blurs into the back of my mind, my thoughts accelerating with a combination of elated ecstasy and hope. "But do you really want to give up the Grammies for me? It was a huge deal to be selected to perform, and your label won't be happy." I weigh the consequences both orally and mentally. I wanted you to be happy too, Austin.

"Ally, for you, I'd do anything. Now hurry up and get a dress for Amelia, we have a wedding to get to."

I was surprised to be received warmly within Amelia's mother's boutique. I collected both Julia's wedding dress, whilst I scanned the racks for something I could wear. My jeans, I don't believe, would cut it for formal attire.

I enlisted the help of Trish to find an elegant frock to don for the ceremony. We had to be hasty though, so our decision was rather irrational. Amelia let me take my dress free of charge, it being sort of an apology. And what a beautiful apology it was.

The long sleeved dress flared out at the waist, and was cut just above knee height. The pinnacle of decorum, the sea foam fabric hugged my body and glistened like the water it mirrored. Trish tied my hair up into a graceful little bun, and I was ready to go.

"Time to meet Austin outside." Trish grinned mischievously, directing me outside. I bid farewell to Amelia, whom had nothing more to say other than the pleasantries. Trish marched me out of the store entry, and took me directly to you in the square.

Your jaw dropped immediately when you saw me.

"Ally.. I- wow." You were unable to articulate your thoughts. I took that as a comment.

"It's time to go, kids!" The pilot enthused, hanging out of his spot behind the controls.

And so, I was met with the thing I hate the most – goodbyes. Due to the craft being so small, Dez and Trish couldn't come with us. They were happy to wait it out in Porcelli, leaving almost an hour after we did.

It didn't make the goodbyes any less painful, though.

"Keep in touch, Ally. I'll be waiting for your call!" Trish laughed, coercing me into a hug. Dez piled on top of us.

"We'll miss you!" Dez offered sweetly.

"Don't say 'us' like we're an 'us'!" Trish chastised, slapping Dez across the wrist.

My heart was bubbling with nostalgia.

With a few more curt proclamations, I took your hand as you pulled me into the helicopter beside you. Our bodies pressed against each other within such a small space, we waved goodbye to our friends as the helicopter took flight.

We were finally going home.

"Where I've gone, where I've left..." I begin, scribing each lyric down from my head onto the paper.

After about an hour interchange, we were both on a private jet you were supposed to take in the first place. With a notepad and a pen in hand, I was helping you concoct an original song as a gift for my dad at his wedding.

For old time's sake.

"Wow, that's really good..." You contemplated, scribing down notes and tunes of your own.

All you could see out the narrow windows of the jet were the clouds. I felt at home in them. I could fathom any cloud I wanted into something beautiful and spectacular. It's also what I do with words, and it seems you'd picked up a few tricks of your own.

We were on fire.

"And the melody should go like this," you demonstrated, plucking various guitar strings.

I couldn't help but feel delight whilst writing music with you. It felt so right, not just because I missed you. There was something about our musical endeavours that just seemed to be so tranquil. It's like we were destined to write music with each other.

I've missed this.

"How long until landing?" I yawned, rubbing my eyes.

"We've got a few more hours left, Alls."

I took advantage of the free packet of nuts we were offered. You eyed me copiously, but I just nibble away at the salted treat. So much better than business class.

"I really want you to sing this song with me." You announced. I spat out my nuts.

"WHHAAAT?" I cried, distraught.

"Think about it, Ally. Do you know how much this would mean to your dad? This would be the perfect present!" Your smile is giddy, as you vibrate in your chair.

"You're forgetting something, Austin."

"What?"

"My crippling stage fright."

You hadn't foreseen this little clinch in your plans. As the clouds grey, and our eyes flitter, we buckle in for the long night ahead.

"Ally! WAKE UP!" You shouted into my ear, causing me to scream in fear.

"AAAaaaAAAAaaaaAAaAaAAaHhhH!"

"We're landing!" You began to cheer, as the small jet landed on a field.

"Where are we?"

"Your wedding is over there." You pointed to a small building outside your window, where clamours of people had gathered.

"Oh my goodness, we have to go!"

And with that, we did. As soon as the pilot allowed us, we raced off of the plane and hit the ground running. The smooth Miami air was a refreshing memory, rejuvenating my racing mind as you and I ran towards the marina pier, where my dad was about to wed.

"Hurry up, goat legs!" You shouted in the heat of the moment, as I began to fall a little behind.

"Shut up, Moon!"

The playful banter was an expense I couldn't pay. I was surprised how unfit I was. The building was at least a mile away, and time was against us. I honestly doubted you in that moment, watching your hair blowing back with the breeze.

But then a miracle happened – we made it.

In one (very unfit) piece.

I clamoured through the doors of the site, entering into the foyer, viewing each immaculate ribbon or aromatic flower. My dress was a little creased from the flight, but my spirits were at an all time high. I had more energy than deemed possible for a girl that only got about two hours sleep.

I slipped through the hall and found myself in the dining area – where the party will be held after the ceremony. You clung to my side like a koala, and I was grateful for your presence. You actually made me feel strong, surprisingly.

"Julia?" I called out in a sing-song voice, observing all the butlers hurrying to prepare the room for the reception later.

A shriek was heard from a narrow hallway.

"Ally!" Julia screamed, racing down the hall. She was fitted into a very poorly fitted gown, her eyes red. Once seeing me though, she raced towards me like I was a mirage in the desert.

Julia stops short when she sees you at my side. I never did, but I'm assuming that my father told her about what you did to me. Which is fair enough you know, seeing as it was always your right to tell your fiancé that her new step-daughter used to date a world famous superstar.

Julia got over the initial shock of seeing you and focused back on me instead. "Oh my goodness Ally!" She cried, wrapping her arms so tightly around my petite frame, I could barely breathe.

"I...I got your dress." I pushed the dress towards my father's partner as she held her hand over her mouth in blatant shock.

"Darling, what happened?" It was like she was actually my mom in that moment. Not that she was, she would never be my mom. But at least, I could be comforted to know that she was my step-mom. She actually cared about me, just as she cared about my father.

They were going to make a beautiful family.

"There... there was an accident. I'm okay now, but I couldn't contact you and I'm so sor-" I began to shout, my lines coming out as intangible sounds.

"Oh darling, go see your father in reception. I better get changed." She smiled, racing off back down the hall.

"We better get inside the hall, the ceremony will probably start soon." You offered up, guiding me back through the doors we entered from, and walking into the ceremony.

We pried the doors open, as everyone in their chairs turned to the sound. The hall was decorated with such finesse and beauty, I was so proud of my father for shelling out a few coins. Speaking of which, he stood at the altar, a pastor situated behind him. At least two hundred people were in attendance, sitting within their pews, and all their faces were now pointed towards me. The piano player even stopped playing music, intensifying an already daunting situation.

"You can do this, Ally." You breathed into my ear, wrapping your hand around mine. I nuzzled into your body, as we walked down the aisle in the most awkward shuffle to ever eventuate.

The piano man begins to play again as attention is driven away from us. My seat was reserved near the top of the hall, right next to my father. As we amble off to take our seats, my dad's eyes meet mine.

And he begins to cry.

"Ally!" He raced towards me, encasing me in a hug. "Oh honey, I thought we'd lost you!"

The audience responds with a collective 'awh', and you take your seat in the front. Your smile is wide and genuine, as you completely understand what I'm going through.

I felt safe in my dad's arms.

And so the ceremony proceeds without a hitch (aha, get it? Becaused hitched means to get married but 'without a hitch' means no troub- oh, never mind.)

The ceremony seemed to go for a long time. Julia looked absolutely stunning in her Porcelli gown. I clung to my father after he kissed the bride, and we were all sent to reception. I spotted you in the streams of people that made a beeline to the reception.

Much chatter was had between all the guests, mainly that of the newly wed couple quizzing me to my misadventures that brought me here in such haste and with my old pop star mate.

I didn't want to take emphasis of their wedding, so I just said what needed to be said at the time. I just wanted their time to be happy. (I made sure to avoid that little 'bridge falling' detail.)

As I went to stuff some of the pastries from the kitchen into my mouth, you tugged at my dress.

"It's time to perform." You announced, blasé.

My heart hammered within my chest. I followed you up to the stage where the band was playing. Anxiety ate at me as I tread closer and closer to that microphone. I could feel eyes boring into my flesh.

Can I do this?

"You've got this Ally... you're ready." You coax, your arm wrapped warmly around mine. You gently place the microphone in my hand, as I quake with imminent fear.

I think I can do this.

I pressed the microphone to my lips, your hands gliding across the strings of the guitar. It's beginning, I thought.

A crowd began to gather around the stage, the lyrics seconds from rolling off your tongue.

I can do this.

"Where I've gone, where I've left,

None of it made any sense,

But then I met you.

I met you.

The times were tough, the tides were high,

My bags were packed, had an alibi

But now I know

You're where I go-ooooo

Pat pat pat, my feet on the ground,

Navigating to find my wayyy-ayyy

Back to you.

I'll always find my way back to you..

Oh oh oh oh, oh ohoh

Back to you

Oh oh, ohoh

No matter how lost – no matter how long fought

I'll find my way... back to you.

The trees would burn, the stars on fire,

My heart is aching for one desire –

That one true thing.

Just one thingggg...

I hiked those mountains, scaled the isles

All that time, I've been waiting a while

To see youuu

It's forever youuuu

Pat pat pat, my feet on the ground,

Navigating to find my wayyy-ayyy

Back to you.

I'll always find my way back to you..

Oh oh oh oh, oh ohoh

Back to you

Oh oh, ohoh

No matter how lost – no matter how long fought

I'll find my way... back to you.

It wasn't a compass, it wasn't a map

Times may changed but I still know that

I need you.

I need you now, I need you now

Don't try to run away from me,

Because you and I are destiny

We don't have much, we don't have much at all

But the two of us is more than enough...

Pat pat pat, my feet on the ground,

Navigating to find my wayyy-ayyy

Back to you.

I'll always find my way back to you..

Oh oh oh oh, oh ohoh

Back to you

Oh oh, ohoh

No matter how lost – no matter how long fought

I'll find my way... back to you."

I conquered my stage fright. I did it.

So much so, I found the courage to do the traditional father-daughter dance in front of a room full of people.

"Wow Ally, your dancing has gotten much better." My dad laughed, lifting me across the floor.

"Thanks dad." We smiled as we made circles around the dance floor. The lights were shimmering, and the warm breeze perfectly encompassed all I love about Miami.

We dance for the rest of the song, before my dad stared intently over my shoulder.

"Uh, Ally? I think you have a friend who wants to talk to you."

"Huh?" I step away from my dad, to see you grinning besides the buffet table. You looked eager to see me, and I look to my dad for permission.

"Go honey, have fun." He smirks, motioning me towards you.

I follow his orders.

I glide across the dance floor, and lean against one of the pillars you were situated near. My cheeks were primrose, my breathing uncontrollable. I was so exhausted.

"Hey Ally, can I... talk to you for a minute?" You prompted conspicuously, nerves shaping your eyes.

"Yeah, sure." I nod, as you led me through an archway to the pier adjacent to the marquee.

The moon was painted high in the sky, reflecting the rays onto the sapphire ocean. The pier stretched out, and we found ourselves walking towards the end of it, our hands quivering when they accidently bumped.

You stopped me just at the edge of the pier, the wedding just a distance hum in the distance. You looked so content, so peaceful – I had almost forgotten that you were missing the Grammys to be here.

With me.

"Ally, you know... you know that tonight is one of the best nights of my life, right?" You laughed, your eyes sparkling with sincerity.

"Why?" I questioned, my face screwed up.

"I've been dreaming of this moment, finally being able to see you again. You know, the real you. And you don't hate me, which is always a plus." You ran your hands through your shaggy blond hair, the hazel of your eyes glowing in the moonlight.

Then... you leaned in. Our faces drew closer, a magnetic force pulling us together. Our eyes began to flutter as our lips neared each other...

But then I remembered.

I remembered everything.

It wasn't unusual for me to work late at Sonic Boom. My dad was out to dinner with some friends, and I was all alone. The number of customers dwindled, as I waited hesitantly behind the counter.

I was waiting for you to charge into the building.

"How much are these?" Someone asked from behind, holding up a trumpet.

"Two hundred dollars." I offered, and nodding with approval.

I turned around to find you in my face.

"What are you doing?!" You shouted, startling everyone in the room – including me.

"Austin, what are you doing?" I panicked, watching your eyes livid with anger.

You grovelled with such intensity, I took a step back. Dez and Trish gingerly trotted in behind you, as a few customers scurried out of the store.

"I know that it was you, Ally. Give it up already!" You threw your hands up in disgust, pacing back and forth.

"Okay, what is going on?" Trish asked, bewildered. Dez looked like he was about to cry.

"I know that it was Ally," you seethed "that lied to that magazine about my song writing. You told them that I'd stolen your song, and all my credit was due to you. Everyone hates me now!" You screamed, slamming your fist into the counter.

"Austin..." I tried to reason, but it was too late.

You were too far gone.

"See that?" You shouted, racing to the door. "That over there is a car, with all my stuff. I'm out of here. Tonight."

"Austin, you shouldn't be driving like this." Dez consoled, his expression grieved.

"No, I don't care anymore. I can't live a lie. Ally – your songs are pathetic. Your dancing is terrible. You are not beautiful, you're not special... you're just like everyone else! You're milking any attempt of money while you can because you know that you'd have no career without me."

My entire body burned, tears falling down my face. My throat was thick with what felt like cotton – no words could escape, nor could any breaths be taken.

"I'm just... I'm done!" You bellowed, shaking the entire building to its' foundation.

You ran out the door, your hand covering your eyes.

Trish and Dez stared, mouths agape, as I succumbed to a pile on the floor. Not because the love of my life left me, or accused me of such awful things –

They weren't true. And you didn't believe me.

What we didn't know at the time was a small camera phone pointed in our direction. The video of your meltdown went viral. You have a tendency to do that.

But all those lies you strewed through your teeth were broadcasted to the world. Everyone thought I was a fake. Everyone ridiculed me, pointed and taunted whenever I passed by.

You killed me.

Your lips hovered above mine, as tears sprung in my eyes. I cringed, as I placed my hands on your chest, and pushed you away.

You looked at me, a confused expression on your face, as the tears really began to roll.

"Austin, I can't do this." I said, my voice thick.

"What?" Your eyes were the size of saucers, and your voice was broken.

I gripped the sleeves of my dress for stability. I looked out to the ocean, trying my best to hide the tears. Well, I couldn't then – I was sobbing.

"Ally," you whispered, as I interjected.

"No, stop. Don't say anything." My voice was harrowed.

"But I-" You tried to continue, but I cut you off.

"I can't do this!" I shout through the tears, my hand planted across my lips.

I turned around. I began to walk away.

But you grabbed my hand and twirled me around.

"You can't leave... Ally, I... I love you." You choked, as you erupted into tears.

I'll never forget your expression. It was so... broken. Your lips quivered, your eyes were red, and the tears drew lines down your face. Your shoulders were slumped in a sign of defeat, as you inhaled deeply.

"The truth is Austin, I don't. I can't. I am sorry." I murmured, my voice catching.

I walked away.

But you didn't try to catch me.

That was the last time I saw you, Austin Moon. Four months it's been, since I spoke to you those words. That's why I have written you these letters – to tell you how much you hurt me. It makes me feel better to know that you know the truth.

But there's one thing I have to admit – I lied to you, too.

On that pier, as the zephyr breeze soaked into our skin, I told you that I couldn't, nor did I, love you.

I lied.

Because I was so desperately in love you. Every dream, there you were. Even in my nightmares, which were normally about losing you. I hated myself for lying, but there was no way I could live with myself if I allowed you back into my life.

Because I'm broken, okay? You deserve a girl who can love you whole-heartedly, no reservation. That's not me. I'm constantly a shadow, always embodying the shy, insecure girl I once was.

And I'm so sorry for everything.

This is hard enough for me as it is, Austin. I could insert lots of emotional, heartfelt garbage if I wanted to. I don't want to. I don't want to make this harder on either of us than I have to.

You see Austin, it wasn't just my intervention and me leaving you that upset me (which it did). I just – I wanted you to chase me, to convince me that no matter what happens, we were worth it.

But you never did.

So I guess... this is goodbye.

Love, Ally"

Rows of records became my focal point. Classic records remained sealed and unspin in the sleeves which had been their home for longer than possibly imagined. Dust had been collected on the main utilities, even the lights.

The pelts of snow falling outside the record store were no comparison to the storm stirring up inside me.

"Oh... oh my gosh... Ally.." It was a macabre sight to see Megan at a loss for words. She stumbled and stuttered, hey eyes trained on me with a frozen dismay.

I wipe the tear away from my eye, as I fold the letter. Megan is soundless. Her expression too is harrowed by my story, and her microphone shakes to prove it.

This is as close as Megan Simms has ever been to silent.

"Oh...my...goodness... tell me there's another letter. Tell me there's more!" Megan pleaded, her eyes watering.

"Uh, no, that's it." I comment grimly, my expression pained.

The tech guy (Jeff) wailed into a handkerchief, one of the other works patting his back in support.

Thousands of comments flood in onto the comment section of the podcast, all condolences. Lengths varied, but even from a distance I can ascertain the heartfelt impact these letters have.

In Hollywood, not many people are used to the sob stories. Sure, you get them every once and a while, but mostly you hear of the scandals, the problems, just the outright deplorable example some celebrities set. Austin, being as famous as he is, is world renown. This story means so much to people because his face, always plastered to the media, has never seen a scathe.

The world doesn't know how to react when they find out their role models are actually real people too.

Megan is within a deep contemplation, her eyes situated to a tile on the floor. With a sudden snap of her fingers, she is reborn and brought back to life. Although rimmed in red, Megan carries on as if nothing is wrong.

"I just... thankyou so much for sharing with us today, Ally. That was no doubt really hard to read to us." Megan has her lips pursued with concern, and I feebly return her comment with a mere nod.

Silence once again leaves us within its rapture. Our faces allude to a troubling thought we want to allude to, but Megan stops before either of us can vocalise it.

"This is Megan from Cheetah Beat – and thanks for watching."

The laptop records each moment, each heartbeat, of the podcast. With Megan's sign off, she gestures to Jeff, who takes the cue. His hand inches in to the screen, where I am caught staring at myself in the reflection. I'm not smiling. I'm nowhere within the realm of happy. I just stare at the girl who has become a stranger to me, and marvel at the fact that she is still sitting there.

The computer goes black just as another tear rolls in succession down my face.

Time passed in a blur after that. I loitered in that record store for a little while, listening to Megan talk about her boyfriend, Nelson. I scoped out the records in the store, looking to see if any pique my interest. None really do.

So with quick goodbyes and emotions I refused to feel, I left the eclectic backdrop.

It felt like a lifetime had been spent in that store.

So now I wander the streets of Manhattan, the snow falling in unrelenting coatings to the ground. Vicious in their descent, I shiver as I hug my coat tighter and tighter to my frame.

The steps I take are harsh, as i trudge through layers of white powder. Snowflakes make home in my hair, as I try to shake them off.

With the moon plastered in the sky, i come to realise that now t=part of my soul has been released. I had encapsulated a lot of me in those letters, and now, they were gone.

I was no longer going to be howling under a paper moon, lamenting the singer Moon I'd doubtfully ever see again. My letters were no longer my stars, the only thing I thought of.

Instead of ease, I get the arctic wind, abandoned Manhattan streets and a flickering lamppost, protruding a light that Austin should be standing under.

"Miss Dawson!"

My legs pumped as I raced out the door of my apartment building. My alarm hadn't gone off, so I was bound to be late.

It's like I never took a time management class in high school.

"Miss Dawson!" That same voice shrieked, as I audibly groan and reclimb the front steps I had just raced down.

"Take the package!" My mailman orders, shoving a parcel into my hands.

I don't recall ordering anything?

"Uh, thanks?" I offered up awkwardly, turning with such audacity that my hair slaps him in the face.

"Sorry!" I shout from the footpath, racing down it.

I was late, you see.

I was off to Miami to see dad. Being Christmas and all, I was back home to see him and Julia. Originally I was supposed to leave for my travels later this week, Thursday, but reading aloud to Cheetah Beat a few days ago really rattled me. I need my family.

I was running to the train station as fast as my legs would carry me. Fortunately, the train stations riddling New York meant accessing transport was easier than it was to spot a taxi on the streets.

Taking the metro straight for the train station, I boarded the train accordingly.

I had a long train ride ahead of me.

I had an entire train ride to kill before I was in Miami.

The carriages were like small capsules, the decor minimal and the comfort found elsewhere. Not many people were on the trains however, which is one thing I had to be grateful for. The almost inaudible hum of the train gliding across the tracks could be heard.

In my view, I could see an elderly couple towards the top of the carriage. Behind them is a young family, with two toddlers.

A tattooed man with an iPod sat a few seats away from me.

This definitely wasn't peak hour traffic.

Fiddling with my suitcase, I pondered what I could do for most of my travel. I could read the novel I brought, or perhaps take a nap.

It hadn't occurred to me that I had no clue what the package was.

After I made myself very comfortable in my stall on the train, the luscious countryside screened outside my window, I pulled the peculiar package from my bag and eyed it suspiciously. What on earth could it be?

The package itself was a padded sleeve, filled with what I assumed was paper. It was very safe, making me wonder what paper would be so important that it had to be wrapped in bubble wrap.

Oh no, what if I had been summoned to court for some mysterious reason?

I don't know. But when I stripped the package of its' sticky tape, what I found within was the last thing I was expecting.

They were letters. A least two dozen of them, from what I could tell. All the messages were scribed across notepad paper, besides one. It was printed onto a card. Instinctively, I took that one first, bubbling with curiosity.

My stomach flipped when my eyes glued themselves to the words.

Dear my Ally,

It's me... Austin. I hope you don't find my ownership of your name too offensive. I didn't mean it that way. Anyway, this letter... I've wanted to talk to you the second you left me at the wedding. Whenever I carry a tune, or play a chord on my guitar, you were on my mind. Oh man, who am I kidding; you are on my mind all the time.

I can't pass the supermarket and seeing those ridiculous pickle baskets without my heart burning for you.

I saw the podcast. You know, with you and Megan. Ally, you looked amazing. And your letter... well, the fact you shared that with the entire world was the reason I gained enough courage to write back to you.

In this parcel, you'll find, like, 25 letters. I don't know why I sent half of them, they aren't really relevant to anything. Some of these letters date back to the first fight we had, when I left Miami... I harboured a lot of emotions then, a lot of them. So they're all quite intense, in case you're wondering.

Ally, there's something you have to know. I got what you were saying – about us. I know you probably won't develop feelings for me again, and that's okay. I can accept that, with time. But what I need in my life Ally isn't a girlfriend. I need you. You're my best friend, and even though I love you, I am willing to push those feelings aside for you.

Ally Dawson, I need you in my life.

It's a bleak, terrible world without you in it. The sun doesn't shine as bright, the birds no longer chirp as loudly, and no stars dance through the sky like they used to.

I don't care that you don't have romantic feelings for me like that. (Well, I do, but that's beside the point). What I'm proposing is... I want to reband Team Austin. That includes you. We can write music together again, and you can receive recognition for your beautiful voice.

Of course, I can't make you do anything. But I really hope you consider this offer.

You're probably thinking 'wow how did Austin send me these letters'. Your father told me your address when I called him the other day.

Anyway, enjoy all these little glimpses into my eyes, Ally. You can see how much I love you.

I really hope we can see each other again.

Austin xx

My heart stops beating. I flick through all the other letters, my eyes watering more and more with each. 'I can't get you out of my head' one letter said, and 'your beauty is like an anchor. You're what kept me levelled when I first got recognised as a singer' was another one.

All of these messages were heartbreaking.

Time seemed to stop after I read those letters. I read them, and reread them, an absorbed them like a sponge would water. Again and again, the words would echo in my head, and my throat became thick with emotion.

I couldn't help but be in love with Austin Monica Moon.

The train continued to sway, but my emotions never fade. It was always going to be him, wasn't it? No matter what I do, his heart will be within mine. Can I ever tell him? Can I let him know?

Or will my reserve keep us from being together?

I let these questions plague me. The passage of time seems nothing in comparison. Because, what do you know, we're here.

We're at the Miami train terminal.

I don't know what to expect. All I know is that my hair is swept up into a braid that falls to one side of my head. My coat, seemingly unnecessary for a Miami winter, sits snugly around my body.

I take my crimson suitcase and drag it out of the train and onto the platform.

Flurries of people hurry to meet their loved ones for the Christmas holidays. People were absolutely everywhere, clinging to those they know, showing publically their affection.

I try to push past the entangled partners or the inhibited friends, albeit I have next to no luck. The terminal is ordained with classic metal work that spirals throughout the entire complex. Even the most simple things within the terminal are made with wrought iron, thus, are also beautiful. I keep my eyes scanning the crowd, trying to pinpoint the one of my father.

I find myself in the thickest offset of the crowd. Right in the middle of it, I cannot see my way out either left or right. Everywhere I look, it's just people. I find it hard to breathe, as people callously brush past me.

I miss the train.

I miss the euphoria of reading those letters.

I miss Austin.

I just want to be free again.

"Hey, move it!" An older guy shouts at me angrily, as I try to make my way through the bustling crowd.

I conserve my oxygen and say nothing.

So this is it, the end of my story. I can't say I had a happy ending. I mean, how many of us do? I wait hesitantly for my father to reveal his face, to take me in his arms and order me home, but I can't find him.

This is going to be a problem.

Still, I was crammed within the movement of hundreds of people. I couldn't differentiate a single person brushing past me, it all looked the same.

Until the crowd dissipated.

If almost by miracle, they made a path. The people thinned out, and finally found the places they were supposed to be. I was thankful for that, seeing as now I actually hard room to breathe.

That is, until I had the breath knocked out of me.

Because Austin Moon is standing in front of me.

His eyes glimmered when they connected with mine. He wore a casual yet very innocent smirk. His hands were in his pockets. He was here. He was here.

I couldn't describe anything near delicate enough to describe what was running through my mind at that precise moment. The smug looking boy just grinned at me from afar, leaving me to do the only sane thing – race into his arms.

His arms welcomed me openly.

Swept up within his warm embrace, our noses touched as he lifted me up high. Our lips hovered, my mouth twirled upwards in an irreversible smile. Austin never looked so happy, whilst my heart threatened to beat out of my chest.

And when all the worlds finally spun into place, I thought back to the questions he'd asked me in the letters.

"Yes," I whispered into his ear, wrapping my arms around him as hard as I could.

"Forever."

A/N: And there you have it, everyone. This story has officially concluded. Wow, I can't believe it!

Like I've said before, I wrote this story for a fanfiction contest on the Austin & Ally wikia. It just so happens that I won, due to some miracle of the gods. I'll leave you a link and hope you all check out the other stories released (as they were all so spectacular!)

wiki/User_blog:Jessie1010/Austin_%26_Ally_Fanfiction_Contest_Participants_List

So thank you all so much for reading! Please remember to vote, review, favourite – it literally inspires me to do my best and I'll never be more grateful than to those who tell me how they feel about my writing (even if it's just a one verse comment!)

So, for now, goodbye and thankyou! :D xx