This is a oneshot songfic. I didn't feel like puting it in my oneshots because I think more people will read it if it's a solo thing. I don't know what I was thinking while I wrote this.
The song is El Manana by the Gorillaz.
Warning: Ultra Angst, bizzare writing, and you'll probably hate the end.
That having been said:

Delve into the demented scrawlings of a fourteen year old girl...

Summer don't know me no more
He got mad, tire - some

The boy sat on a large stone in the middle of Central Park. It was winter; snow adorned every possible surface, from trees to buildings. The sky was a stark, cold, cloudless grey, and a biting wind swept through all of New York City. Tiny flakes of snow fell from the dreary sky, and whirled through the air in intricate patterns of white. As beautiful as the crystalline white was, it was a miserable day to be outside.

The boy was alone. No one wanted to be outside today. Every sane person was inside, wrapped in quilts and sipping hot chocolate by a blazing fire. The occasional person would hurry by, driven out of the warmth by some important errand. If said person noticed the boy they would wonder what he was doing out in the cold on a school day. Then they would rush past, and forget about the odd boy who was out in ten degree weather clad only in jeans and a baggy sweater.

Summer don't know me
He just let me low in myself

For the first time in fifteen minutes the boy moved. Gregor buried his face in his hands, and released his breath slowly. How old was he now? Thirteen. Thirteen years old. He moaned. Thirteen years old.

A normal thirteen year old boy would be in school right now. When he was released he would probably hang out with his friends, or go on a date with his girlfriend. Maybe he would just go home, and lay on his bed listening to music. Maybe he had sisters, and maybe he would take them to the park. Maybe his dad would ask how his day went. Maybe…. Maybe it didn't matter.

Gregor wasn't a normal boy. He had skipped school, something he had been doing fairly often lately, not that his parents knew. He didn't have any friends. He didn't have a girlfriend. He hated being home. He no longer played with his sisters. His dad was in the hospital. Gregor was anything but normal.

Cause I do know love
from you then
Just dying

At thirteen he had scars covering every part of his body. He knew about twenty ways to kill a person, and had killed on more than one occasion. Saying it like that made him sound like a serial killer. But he wasn't. He was just a confused boy.

What was his life? At this thought Gregor let out a short sound of amusement. What life? It was a sham. A little play he put on during school that he was a normal boy. The play ended abruptly as soon as he left school. When he got home he would lock himself in his room, or if he didn't feel like it he wouldn't go home at all. He would just come and sit on this rock in the middle of Central Park until his sister or his mom came and brought him home.

I saw that day,
Lost my mind

Lord I'm fine.

A year ago he had been diagnosed with Clinical Depression, a fact that hadn't come as much of a shock to him or his family. He had been prescribed pills which he was to take every day. In the mornings his mom would give him a pill as he walked out the door to go to school; as soon as he got out of the apartment he threw it away.

Gregor lifted his head from the palms of his hands. His lifeless eyes stared up at the sky. For a brief moment he allowed himself to envision the cold grey sky vanishing, replaced by an inky black where bats flew. Under the bats, under the pitch black, was a city of sparkling stone. Although his eyes were wide open, Gregor was dreaming.

Maybe in time
You'll want to be mine

With this realization he jerked himself back into reality. The reality of the foreboding sky, and the pale sun. The reality of pain and grief. The reality that he was never, could never, go back.

Gregor tore his gaze away from the sky, with a slight motion he slid off of the rock onto the frigid snow. The cold stabbed into him, and the smallest smile appeared on his face. Pain was the only thing that brought him back into reality. It seemed that everything in his life brought pain. His memories, even the happy ones hurt him more than he could bear. And real life was no better. Eventually he got numb to it all, a lifeless, mindless walking corpse, one that imitated the motions of life but was never truly living. Physical pain brought him back into consciousness, if only briefly.

Lonely won't get there
Ten years passed tonight
You'll flee

With the return of consciousness, came the return of Gregor's bitter thoughts. He was thirteen years old and his life was meaningless. Not in the way most teenagers' lives are meaningless; because they hadn't done anything yet. No. He had done everything and experienced everything in a few short months. And now there was nothing. No meaning. No rhyme. No reason. Just a kind of big gaping hole.

What other thirteen year old had been through as much as he had? He had lost his father, almost lost his sisters repeatedly, and nearly lost his mother. The best friend he had ever had had sacrificed himself for Gregor. And the one girl he'd ever loved was miles and miles away, and he would never see her again.

All this pain. Gregor's eyes closed, and a single tear dripped from the left one. Why did he feel like this? How much could he take before he died from the aching in his heart. Over the past months the pain had spread from his heart to claim the rest of his body. He suffered constant headaches, and some mornings in was all he could do to get out of bed despite the throbbing in his arms and legs. Gregor's fists clenched so tightly the nails dug into his palms. Crimson welled from his hands and stained the snow a bloody red. This had to end. He had to make it stop.

If you do me down,
I'll be some
To find you

Ares. He had sacrificed all the time he had to give Gregor a little bit more. Gregor wondered sometimes if Ares had actually thought Gregor's life would mean anything with Ares gone. The guilt was overwhelming. Ares had saved Gregor's life more than once, and how had he repaid his bond? Death. Slowly, Gregor inhaled. Focusing on the memory of Ares, and the pain it brought him, he burned it.

These scars. They traced across his chest, arms and legs like a spider's demented web. His scars prevented any kind of normal activity, and drew notice constantly. Why did he care anyway? What did being normal matter anymore? When everything else was gone it was laughable to even think that being accepted as normal would make any kind of difference. All his care, his concern, his worry, went up in flames.

Luxa. He had saved her for last. She was the one he wanted to hold onto the longest. His mother had dismissed it as a childhood crush. But she couldn't possibly be more wrong. Luxa's name had become synonymous with love in Gregor's mind, and he knew that no one could ever replace her. He could never feel for anyone else what he had felt for her. Holding her image in his mind, her vibrant eyes that stood out against her pale skin. Hair of molten silver making a perfect frame for her caring face. With agonizing slowness the fire edged to the rim of the memory. When it hit the corner the flames began spreading, greedily licking at the image of the girl he loved. And then it was ash.

I saw that day,
Lost my mind
Lord, I'm fine

Gregor stood up, his legs were numb from sitting in the cold snow. In an attempt to warm them he thrust his hands in his pockets. One of them brushed up against something. Irritated for no apparent reason the boy crumpled the paper and threw it into the snow.

Then he began walking. First out of the Park, and then down the road. As he walked, the wind stung at his face. He ignored it. As he walked, the wind blew the ashes of his memories into oblivion. He ignored this as well. Everything he cared about, everything he lived for, was gone. There was no use hanging on to it any longer.

Maybe in time
You'll want to be mine

Gregor walked. His shoes tapping out a rhythm on the concrete sidewalk. The sound of his footsteps was his heartbeat, for his heart had long since stopped beating. His mind was blank of everything, his memories gone, his heart stilled, there was nothing for him to think about. Nothing for him to care about. Nothing. And so he walked, and he didn't stop when he passed his apartment building. He didn't stop when his legs starting shaking from the exertion. He didn't stop when he no longer recognized where he was. He didn't stop.

In Central Park, by a large stone, hiding a world no one should ever see, was a picture. It's been crumpled up. It's been stepped on. The colors are beginning to run together from the affect of the snow, but it is still recognizable. A young girl with silver hair, resting her head on a boy of about the same age. The two look regretful, but happy at the same time. As if they know bad things are going to happen, but also know something else.

I saw that day,
Lost my mind
Lord, I'm fine

They know that no matter what happens, whatever tragedy separates them, whatever sorrow causes memories to fade, nothing can undo the time they spent together. Nothing can make them regret. Nothing can erase the picture.

When the mind wants to forget things it sets them on fire.

When the heart truly feels it never lets go.

The ashes never truly blow away.

The picture never truly fades.

Love never truly wanes.

It is never truly over…

Because real love stories never end.