Speak Now-Oneshots inspired by Taylor Swift's album and similar songs

Last Kiss-by Taylor Swift, lyrics owned by her, and Maximum Ride by James Patterson.

AN: I don't care if you like or dislike Taylor Swift's music (though I personally think her most new album is amazing, and I love the lyrics), but please give it a try and tell me what you think.

Furthermore, though this is a breakup song, I made it a death story, because minus a few words in the song, it very well could be. And Fang would never really leave Max.

-ivyflightislistening

They still smell the same. The clothes, I mean. Like him. I swear it's like cologne, but this can't be recreated by mixing chemicals. Even now, pressing the soft, worn fabric to my face, I'm terrified the scent will go stale, that I will wear it away, and he will really and truly be gone. I sniff, but am determined not to cry, not to dirty the clothes. All the same, I pull the sweatshirt tight to my chest, away from my traitorous eyes. His shirt's a little baggy, and the wind is cool. I feel myself shiver, which is strange, because how is my body responding to something as stupid as the wind when I hurt this much inside?

No, I take that back. The stupid thing was that I was even sitting here, hunched against the pain. He said… he told me he loved me, so why did he go?

Because he promised. He promised.

We were on the beach, and I had landed so heavily that sand flew everywhere and fell into my shoes. My heart was racing like Seabiscuit, and he stepped out of the trees silently. He was bruised, but all I registered was that he was there, and suddenly, my heart didn't feel so hollow anymore. And when we ran to each other, and he wrapped his arms around me, and he whispered, "I won't, not ever," I was so full of happiness I felt my heart would explode.

But now I'm sitting on the floor, wearing his clothes, and my heart is so heavy I'm pretty sure it will this time. Hell, it's already broken, and Ig always said a broken, malfunctioning bomb is almost as likely to explode as a new one. Is it the same with hearts?

Because everything, everything reminds me of him. The smell of the rain, the wind on my cheek, my life is so intertwined with his, I don't know what to do without him. And I hate it. When did I become so pathetic? When did my entire existence come to rely so heavily on that of another's?

When I close my eyes, I can still hear his heart. I still feel the heat of his arms wrapped around me. But when I open them, he isn't there, and it hits me again. But I remember… the swing of his step, the way he shoved his hands in his pockets when he was embarrassed…

My breathing came in little gasps, but I was so busy laughing, I didn't notice. He grabbed my hand, turning to flash a blinding grin, before pulling me inside. It was an old hunting shed, I'd guess. Deep in the woods, and smelling of damp wood and mold. He shut the door softly behind us, then turned back and looked down at me. Raindrops fell from his lashes and that obnoxious hair that could never lay flat. I reached a hand forward, catching a drop from the tip of nose.

We were silent, but the rain on the roof pounded away, and for a moment, I forgot why we had hid. Then, far away, I heard a sharp yell, and some carefree laughter, and I shook my head at the Gasman's antics. But the flock wasn't here. It was just us, and this thought seemed to be dawning on him, as well. He practically radiated warmth with his smile and his sparkling eyes, and with rain still slick on my skin. A corner of his mouth turned up. Smirking. I blushed.

"Looking for something in particular?" He teased, stepping closer, tugging lightly on my hand. I hated myself for it, but I was grinning like an idiot and made no effort to back away.

"What?" I asked, trying to brush the moment off. "Of course not, you pig. It amazes me what goes through your mind-"

Except then I stopped speaking, because he had leaned down and kissed me, and any thought of speech left my mind. When he pulled back, my train of thought was more along the lines of, where did he learn to kiss like that? rather than how I should have been irritated at the rude interruption.

"Max and Fang are the only ones left!" We both jumped in surprise (I blame our past experiences) and found ourselves looking for exits, only to turn back to each other when we both realized it was just Angel.

"Yeah, 'cause Fang can cheat." That was Iggy, his voice faint, but definitely close by. "Either that or they're hidden away somewhere."

"I should hope so." Nudge agreed sensibly, not catching the innuendo. "Max is wearing that really nice sweater Dr. M got her for her sixteenth birthday. You don't just go rain dancing in angora!"

Oops. Fang just laughed, leaning forward to kiss my forehead, and then he backed away, somewhat reluctantly. I had known him for most of my sixteen years, and could read him like an open book, when he wasn't fighting too hard, and there was nothing I wanted more than to stay here with him, in this unexpected sanctuary, and hear him laugh. He didn't smile very much, not anymore, with prices on our heads and armies of School minions after us. But we couldn't stay in any place very long, and we had been in this forest long enough. It was time to go, because if I had learned anything, peace never lasted.

But right as I shut the door behind me and shared a quick look with Fang, as the others crept out of the trees, bantering and teasing each other, Fang took my hand and bent down toward my ear.

"Love you."

It was so unexpected, so out of the blue, that I faltered in my steps, trying to figure out what he was really saying, but he just smiled and walked toward Iggy.

He what? He… he loved me? That was the feeling, that you could spend forever and a day with someone and never grow tired? When your heart grew an extra set of wings at the prospect of seeing someone? That was… that was love? We followed each other to the ends of the earth, fought for each other, were ready to die for each other…

And suddenly I was flying through the rainy clearing and I grabbed his arm, stopping him. I took a second to look up in his eyes, to confirm what I saw there, and then I smiled, and since the flock was there, I kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "Love you, too." Because it seemed like something he needed to know.

And though I was shaking so badly I nearly garbled the words, the expression on his face was completely worth it.

That's what the rain reminded me of. The first time. That look on his face, as if I had just granted his wildest dreams, as if I had saved his life or something. Fang was always so closed, ever prepared that someone he trusted would betray him, or that someone he didn't would, too. And so he locked himself away, for protection. But he had grinned like Angel had when I had let her keep Celeste all those years ago. That I remembered, even if I couldn't recall his exact expression, even if I couldn't picture his entire face in perfect clarity as the time stretched on and he was gone.

I whimpered, hating myself for it. I had known, that day. Known what I was opening myself up to, I had been aware that I was handing him a dagger and exposing my heart. And even though, like I had expected, he had plunged that dagger into me, I still… I still miss him. I miss watching him sleep during my watch; I miss his expression that would only relax completely in rest or on rare occasions when we were together. I miss his smile. I miss his laugh. I miss his callused hands, and the way he would read stories to Angel even when she had outgrown them. I miss the way he ruffled Gazzy's hair when he passed the kid, and the way he and Iggy could give knuckle punches without missing. I miss the times when I managed to break his mask and make him smile, I miss how he could make me laugh even after we'd just escaped hell for the millionth time. And, damn it, I even miss how he never had a problem with kissing me when I was in the middle of saying something. There's not a day I don't miss those rude interruptions.

And I'm screwed. Because all these wonderful things, all the times we spent together whether we were in cages or at the E House or on the run, they're starting to fade, and I don't know what I'm going to do. They all fade in comparison to the last time…

I try not to go into the sun anymore. It reminds me of that day. The sun was so hot, heat waves rising from the desert and blurring my sight. My wrists and ankles burned where the chains touched my skin. I wish that they had burned my eyes instead, because then I wouldn't have to see Jeb holding the gun in front of me. I wish that my ears had been chopped off, so I wouldn't have to hear him threatening to kill me if I didn't respond. But nobody had, and so I listened and watched and when I couldn't stand this final betrayal, I raged and yelled and screamed like a wounded animal, telling him exactly what I thought of him, even though inside I was dying. He had saved me. This was the man who had told me stories of the outdoors, fed me sandwiches through the bars of my cage. And though he had died to me the day that I learned he was working for the whitecoats while the flock and I grieved his disappearance, I couldn't help the tears that sprang to my eyes as he looked coldly down the barrel of the gun and asked for the final time, where the other members of the flock were. I spat at him; fully ready to get a bullet in the head from the man I had once considered being a god, or better yet, my father.

But that was where it went wrong, because he just raised an eyebrow and moved his arm slightly to the left, to where Fang was standing. The gun went off twice. Fang cried out, his knees collapsing beneath him, and I didn't register Jeb walking back to his car or that they key to the manacles was only feet away, lying in the sand, because Fang had registered pain.

I crawled as close to him as I could, leaning over his face, blocking the sun from his eyes. Blood was blossoming on his shirt above his stomach, and from another hole in his side. It was immediately clear: I could not help him. He was going to die slowly and painfully, right in front of me. At first I had been frantic, pressing the wounds until he had yelled aloud in pain and I recognized that his time was numbered. Hands shaking, I grabbed his hand, twitching madly with pain, and I found myself yammering like Nudge, trying to get him to register my presence. I wiped at his sweating forehead, kissed it, blocked the sun from his eyes and squeezed his hands so tight I thought I might break them.

"Fang?" I croaked. "C'mon, Fang. Stay with me. Ig and the others will be here soon. We'll get you out of here, we'll get you to a hospital, you're going to be okay, you hear me?"

And it went on, until finally his little moans and sudden yells of pain began to die a little, and that was when I really started to cry, when he opened his eyes.

They were his eyes, but then, they weren't. He looked defeated, broken, accepting of his fate to come, and that was what scared me.

"Fang?" I repeated his name. "Fang? Don't you dare give me that look, you hear? Did you hear what I said? How we're gonna get you out of here? We're going to make you better, we're going… going…" But I could not continue, and he shakily raised a hand to my cheek. He tried to smile, but his eyes were clouding, trying to find me. He whispered.

"I'm… glad… it was me."

"No!" I protested, holding his hand to my face, but madly wiping away my tears. "No, you're not! It shouldn't be… Fang, don't look at me like that! How am I supposed to lead?"

"You'll do your best." He croaked, eyes sliding softly shut. "I always needed you. Not…vice…versa."

"That's not true." I protested, tears clouding my vision. "Fang, you know that! Dammit, stay with me, Fang, stay here! You promised you'd never leave me! You promised!"

"I…won't." He breathed, already half gone. I leaned forward to his face, pressing my lips to him. He barely moved, but I could feel him shift towards me a little, then moan a little in pain. It was all he could manage.

"No." I whispered against his lips. "You're my best friend. I love you. You can't go."

It was barely a breath. His chest hardly moved. Tears streamed down my face. "Best friends." He sounded happy. "Love… you."

No. I wasn't going to let it happen. I kissed him again, trying to force him to respond. I brushed his sweaty hair from his brow.

"Fang, you can't go. You're a fighter! They've never beaten you, you always stood strong, you never let them get to you. Who was the one who took on an army of Erasers at the School, to keep them from Nudge? Who was the one to try and fly to Germany to help me? Who was the one to tackle Ari and the Erasers on the beach? Who knew about the clone? You've always fought, fought, fought, day and night! For me! For the flock…"

But it was already too late. His dark eyes, the same color as his pupils, had frozen, locked in my direction. His hand had gone limp. His wrist had no pulse. No breath came from his lips.

I don't know how Iggy found us, and I barely remember him touching down beside him and pulling me to his chest and letting me sob, and I don't remember wrapping his body in fabric and flying him to the woods near our old house and digging a hole next to his favorite, twisted tree, still growing on the edge of the cliff. I do remember that we practically buried him in our tears, and that we were all too choked to say anything until Nudge finally got to her feet, standing at the foot of the grave, and through her head back. And then she yelled, screaming her sadness so the very heavens could hear us, and when she grew out of breath, she fell to her knees on the soft dirt, grabbing it in her hands. And she's not called the Nudge Channel for nothing, because she started to speak clearly and articulately about how he had been her big brother, her hero, and she had always aspired to be like him. She remembered the stories he told for her, the pretty stones he collected and left on the desk in her room, and how he would always listen when she was having trouble. When she grew too emotional to go on, nearly drowning in her tears, it sparked a whole tribute from the youngest two about all their stories about him and what he had done and how they looked up to him, and then it was just Iggy and I. I looked at him, grey eyes shut but brimming with tears.

"You were my brother." He croaked, voice hoarse, and that was all, because the rest couldn't be said. Nudge, Ang, and Gaz looked to me. Angel put her hand on my knee. I gulped, aware that I had cried enough to lift Noah's boat, but that I somehow still had more.

But I recalled that final light in his eyes, when he recognized what Jeb was going to do, when he tipped his chin up proudly and defiantly, and then his final smile. For me. And he leant me the strength to get to my feet, because you can't bury a body in the air, but a spirit sure as hell can be there. That's where Fang would be, because he would never be tied down. He was where he was supposed to be. Flying.

"You promised you'd never leave me!" I cried as the trees groaned in the windy onslaught. "And you said you never would-that you're always with me. I trusted you! And so you better wait for me, understand? Remember what I said, before you had to go, because it's true. I'm in love with my stupid, selfless, proud, dead best friend!"

I never thought we'd ever last kiss

Never imagined we'd end like this

Your name, forever the name on my lips,

Just like our last kiss.

So here I am. A full year later, and it's raining like it did when you said you loved me for the first time, and it's cold like when we said it the second time, and I never imagined we'd end up like this. Some people don't think you can have a broken heart at seventeen.

Some people have never had a last kiss. Because I still remember the look on your face, the tone of your voice, the laugh in your smile, and I hope the sun shines, wherever you are, and that it hasn't been tainted the way it has been for me. I hope, if there is an afterlife, that you remember me. I'm afraid… afraid that if you can break that first promise, that you can break that second.

Because I'm in love with your obnoxious habits, your wonderful smile, your soft voice, the way you walked, your boring wardrobe, your habit to blow off injuries, and the way you could make me feel like I was just a normal girl with a normal boy having the time of their lives. I'm in love with the fact that you would never break a promise, and that you never will truly leave me. And I've come to love the fact that someday I'll see you again, and maybe, if I have anything to say about it, it will be sooner than later.