A/N: I don't own Maximum Ride and the parts of this that are italicized belong to Taylor Swift and James Patterson- who, by the way, is only one of the greatest people ever.

Never thought we'd have a last kiss

Never imagined we'd end like this

Your name, forever the name on my lips

If in twenty years we haven't expired yet…

She doesn't bother trying to stall the tears; doesn't even bother with wiping them away, to try and do either would be pointless. Just like trying to rewrite this stupid letter is pointless; the only thing more pointless would be stopping when she is so close but that's all she can do. She can't even see so surely she can't write… all she'd do is ruin this one just like she ruined the original. If she keeps up like this the ink will smear, and if she ruins the ink on this one too then she will truly go mad. She doesn't let herself look at the original anymore; not since she noticed the tears forming along the edges of it; nope, everything she does now comes purely from memory, which, sadly, is absolutely no problem.

Now I'll go sit on the floor wearing your clothes

All that I know is I don't know

How to be something you miss

Goodbye my love…

Her hand trembles and she pushes away the paper in disgust. She had tried to do something like cursive for love and now she can't read it, now it could just as well be lava as it could be love. Once again she has screwed up; once again she hasn't been good enough to deal with the shattered puzzle pieces that he has left for her in wake of his heart. She keeps trying to re-glue them; she keeps trying to make them fit the way that they once did, and more than anything she tries to pretend that wherever he is, in whatever continent or faraway country he is in, that he still loves her. That somewhere deep inside he has not lost whatever capacity enabled him to love her in the first place… She tries to pretend that he didn't disown her in the letter, but somehow it still feels like he did. In the back of her throat something chokes.

So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep

And I'll feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe

And I'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are

Hope it's nice where you are

P.S. Tell everyone I sure will miss them.

She balls the paper up before turning to throw it in the waste basket, looks at it, and, on second thought, stomps it. It is a mess of crumpled lines smeared with black ink when she bends to pick it up. It is still a mess of crumpled lines smeared with black ink when she falls on top of it. It is an even bigger mess of crumpled paper and smeared ink when her tears bleed into it, like blood from an open wound.

And I hope the sun shines and it's a beautiful day

And something reminds you, you wish you had stayed

He reaches for her hand silently and she takes it with equal stealth and timidity. It is a tan hand, and because she truly wants to make herself miserable she allows for her mind to pretend, just for a few seconds, that it is him, instead of him. For just a few seconds she feels happiness overtake her, or, at the very least hope. She can feel her eyes beginning to alight with it and can tell that her lips have curled into some semblance of a smile… but then he ruins it. He pulls her to him, still silent, and she allows his arms to drape around her waist; allows her own to be pulled to his neck, but she does not at all account for the way his blond hair brushes her fingertips. She does not at all account for the way that her fingers yearn to run through it. She doesn't resist when his lips meet hers, but she doesn't feel anything either.

We can plan for a change in weather and time

I never planned on you changing your mind

Tears render the kiss salty, and she closes her eyes, trying with all of her heart to find him in the unfamiliar lips, but she can't. She can't and that only makes her cry harder, but not once does she pull away… not once does she try and untangle her fingers; not once does she remove his wandering hands.

Forever the name on my lips, just like our last

He whispers her name but it has no effect on her, she has already gone… somewhere in this wide world… be it countries, continents, or even merely just states away; a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy carries her heart. Somewhere in this wide world he is shattering it.

A/N: So this is my first songfic and I'm not really sure how these things are supposed to go but overall I'm really happy with this. I do want your reviews, though, scratch that; I need your reviews. Because, you see, a writer is only as good as their fans and how will I know if I have any fans if you don't review? I'm sure you can see where that might be a difficult situation. I do intend to continue this with more songs and more chapters but it won't be easy so remember, good or bad I want your opinion… if you do choose to leave it you will find a dedication to you in the next chapter's author's note… So, review, Review, REVIEW!