SUMMARY: August is reunited with his parents and he meets new friends at Julliard. He grows in his talent and performs almost monthly. He is practically famous now.

AUTHORS NOTE: I do not own August Rush anything, I just like writing for fun. Also, here is a warning: You will not understand my story if you have not seen August Rush. So if you don't understand it, just ask me to explain it to you.

The last notes were played. August turned around and looked around for a moment. He caught sight of his parents and gave the most sincere smile of happiness ever seen. He took the first step towards his parents. He ran offstage and gave his mom the biggest hug you could ever want. Then he turned and recognized his dad, and his dad recognized him.

"Hey, kid, you're the kid who played with me guitar earlier. Pretty good sounds." August laughed and gave his father a huge hug.

"We were pretty good!"

Lyla remembered the night she thought he had died. Her father had lied to her, had said he was dead when he knew he wasn't, had said it would be best for her because she was so young. Now, 11 years, 3 months, and 17 days later, she saw her child for the first time.

Louis, on the other hand, was surprised to find out that he had a son. But as soon as he saw him, he knew.

The audience was speechless after the piece; it had taken them. How could this 11-year-old boy write this amazing piece? It was crystal-clear that he was a musical genious. Crowds started making their way towards him to congratulate him.

"No, please, not now." August responded. He caught sight of Arthur and Mr. Jeffries, but he didn't care. He wanted his parents now.

"So, what do you like to go by anyway? August or Evan?" Lyla asked jokingly.

"August. I want to be called August Rush."

"All right." The group began walking around Central Park in the moonlight. "And what have you been doing all these years?"

"Listening. Listening for your music." August said, his smile increasing.

"So you can hear us?" Louis and Lyla exclaimed at once.

"Yes I could. I always thought it was you anyway." August replied. "Now I know it was you."

They continued walking. August recieved many praises and finally Lyla spoke.

"So where should we stay? Should we fly back to Chicago, or go to San Francisco, or stay here?"

August took no time in answering the question. "Stay here." He blushed. "I mean, I like it here. I like the city. It inspires my music."

'Well, then. Louis, is that fine?"

"Sure, why not. What's left in San Francisco anyway?"

"So we can stay in my rented room until we find an apartment or something." The comment was partly a question, partly a statement.

"Sure, that sounds great." August perked up.

They left Central Park with some more praises as Lyla led the way to her room. When they arrived they set up beds and fell asleep.

The next day August realized that his other clothes were in the church with Reverand James and Hope. He snuck over there and grabbed all of his things that were there after leaving a short note stating that he had come taken his things. When he returned, he found the room empty. His mom had left a note on her bed.

August - We didn't know where you went!! We were worried and went looking for you. We should be back in an hour if we don't find you. Love, Lyla 9:14am

August hit his forehead with frustration at himself. He had forgotten to tell his parents where he was. He looked at the clock. 9:48am. They should be home soon. August decided that he had worried them and they deserved an apology. He barely knew them, but any parent would be worried about their kid if he just disappeared. He needed to get out of that habit. It was okay with Wizard, but not...

Wizard.

He was probably steaming mad at August and looking for him. He was also probably mad at Arthur and looking for him too.

What to do?

Oh well. Right now August had to find a way to pay back for his parents' worry. Buy a pizza for them? Arthur would love that. But not Louis and Lyla. Make breakfast for them? Why not. They would love that. But one problem: August wasn't sure he knew the first thing about cooking. No, making breakfast wouldn't work. Maybe he couldn't pay them back...

A few hours later Louis and Lyla walked through the door. They found maybe hundreds of paper sheets spread across the floor. Somewhere within the area of the paper August lay bent over some music notes written in pencil. He looked up.

"Hi, mom. Hi, dad."