I bet, this time of night you're still up. And I bet, you're tired from a long, hard week…
Austin groaned, plopping down in his swivel chair. He spun around, running his hands through his hair, trying to get his mind to focus on anything and everything but Ally. Even with his currently racing career, she refused to evade his mind. Like a virus, he couldn't get rid of her. Not that he particularly wanted her to leave.
Shows have been crazy and his career is booming, with the newest Austin Moon album out and selling like hot cakes. It's everything he's ever wanted since he was a kid. He's got everything, money, girls, fame. He's accomplishd all his goals - to be an overnight sensation, to sell out like a maniac. But he's not a kid anymore, and he's finding himself craving something much, much different than spotlight. In fact, quite the opposite of spotlight, stage fright or not.
The clock reads 3:03 AM, and despite his rapidly growing tiredness, his brain refuses to let him sleep. His mind drifts to Ally again, and he almost slams his head down on the desk.
I bet, you're sitting in your chair by the window, looking out at the city, and I bet sometimes you wonder about me…
He spun the chair around to the large window that overlooked all of New York City. The city that never sleeps with the boy who can't, a perfect match.
"Perfect match," he whispers, curling his fingertips around the window pane as his thoughts direct towards her for the umpteenth time today. Austin sighed and stood, wrapping his hands around the neck of his guitar. His hands involuntarily started playing the chords to Think About You as he looked at the clock that never seemed to change. It was as if it was taunting him.
But it wasn't. Ally was.
More specifically, her absence.
And I just wanna tell you, it takes everything in me, not to call you…
Ally tapped her pen on the desk with one hand, the other hand shaking massively. Her inspiration was severely lacking and insomnia has overtaken her power to write or sleep. Even with her freshly new college degree, she still feels understated and the habit to chew on her hair lingers in her thoughts for a while, before Austin infiltrates her tired mind and pushes out any other subject of importance. She thought about calling him up, asking him to come over, asking him for help on this song.
Perhaps not just the song.
And I wish I could run to you, and I hope you know that every time I don't, I almost do…
Ally sighs and her pen moves from the edge of the table to the tablet in front of her. It may be killing her just to breathe, but it's good inspiration. If he's not here for her to get inspired, she might as well be inspired from his absence.
It's still lacking, and she still feels like her heart is sinking, about to fall right out of her chest. Her hand reaches for the phone on instinct. She forces herself to place it down. It's better if she doesn't run to him.
She'll start to depend on him again.
I bet, you think I either moved on or hate you, cause each time you reach out, there's no reply…
She stumbles, half-alive to her answering machine, looking at the 3 messages she still has on the device. All are stale, varying in time, the more recent one from two months ago. She pressed play, her finger lingering on the button before releasing.
"Hey, Ally, uhm…I know we kind of got out of touch, but I was wondering…ah, never mind. I've got a concert at the coffee shop on 49 St tomorrow. It's no biggie, just a few people. If you wanted to come, I…yeah, you get the point."
She sighed and hit clear. The monotone reply of the answering machine even sounded disapproving to her.
Austin drops his phone line. He sighs, knowing she wouldn't have picked up anyway. In his mind, she's got a whole new set of friends and is dating the most popular guy at MUNY. In Ally's mind, that couldn't be more far from the truth. He takes a seat on the bed, which he knows is pointless, because sleep refuses to come to him, and his mind refuses to clear.
She would do a similar thing, only her bed is too far away, and replaying the voice messages has left her unstable. She's not sure if she falls or if she willingly drops to the ground.
I bet, it never ever occurred to you, that I can't say hello to you and risk another goodbye…
She crumpled on the floor, letting the blood rush to her head as she pulled her knees into her chest. She didn't even care about deadlines or writing anymore. She just wanted the thoughts racing in her mind to leave. He doesn't understand. No one understands.
She learned to depend on him, and after their traumatic split, she had to learn how to depend on herself. Now, that was all she could do, spare losing her sanity. If he ever said goodbye again, it would kill her.
It already has.
Her weak sobbing is not enough to mute out the sound above her.
The phone is ringing. It's 3:30 in the morning, and the only person insane enough to be calling is Austin. Not even Dez would call at this unearthly hour. She would get up, but she doesn't in fear her knees will buckle and she'll collapse on the linoleum again. (That's her excuse, and she's sticking to it.) The answering machine reaches it before she's lifted a finger off the floor.
"Ally…I need you. Call me back. I'll be up."
His voice was raw and almost as shaky as hers. The thoughts underlying her mind were if he was wondering about her. If he had stayed up all night, just like her, desperately trying to find the sleep that kept running away from the both of them.
Or maybe, he just needed help on a new song.
The ones he has now are almost as terrible as his own.
And I just wanna tell you, it takes everything in me, not to call you…
She pushed herself up against the wall, scooting closer to the phone on the end table. She hit replay on the message and curled herself up again. God, it felt so good to hear his voice. To say he needed her.
But she couldn't concentrate on that. She had to concentrate on the goodbye. The goodbye that almost caused her to drop out of MUNY. The goodbye that forced her to quit as his songwriter. The goodbye that makes her cringe every time she hears his new, flaky pop songs. When she's in the car, driving along, and one comes on the radio, she instinctively switches the station.
Then parks the car over to avoid having two different variations of a breakdown.
It would kill her just to listen to him sing these trashy songs. She listened to one of them fully, about how happy love was.
If it was her song, it'd actually be reasonable.
And I wish I could run to you, and I hope you know that every time I don't, I almost do…
Ally brushed a tear off of her face. Crying over Austin was idiotic. There was simply no need. She could take care of herself, like she always has. She didn't have to run, especially since she didn't know what she was running from.
She doesn't need a boy to complete her and she does not need him to make her feel whole again.
But oh my god, she'd love to feel whole again.
We made quite a mess, babe, I confess in my dreams, you're touching my face. Asking me if I wanna try again, with you…I almost do...
He calls again, and this time, she doesn't answer the phone. With all the upmost confidence she has, she decides to parade herself over to his apartment.
Ally cringes at the rain beating down outside. It's an obstacle, but not a very good one. She merely throws her hoodie on and starts her journey to 221B.
She made her way out the door, slowly walking until she reaches his extravagant apartment. It's huge, in a huge building, and makes hers seem like she's sleeping in a cardboard box on the street in comparison.
She raps on the door lightly, and when he comes to, pancake in mouth, messy hair and all, the look on his face is of shock. She's suddenly self aware that she looks dreadful, lacking makeup, curled hair, or any clothes besides her long MUNY hoodie that comes down to her knees and a pair of shorts. Not that he had a care in the world about that, she still looked beautiful to him.
"Hi," she said, shivering from the impact of the rain.
Her mouth went dry, but he spoke for her. His hand lightly cupped her face, pushing a disheveled strand of hair behind her ear.
"Let's try it again, Als. Let's make it work this time."
And he kisses her.
And she wakes up.
/
She finishes the song, sealing it an envelope entitled "I Almost Do."
Shaking her head from the dream, she sighs and walks over to the end table. Her knees are wobbly, but she's stable.
She picks up the phone, dials his number, and breathes out.
"Hey, Austin? I think we should talk."
