A/N: This one's a bit of a doozy. (It's 2am so I'm not really sure what else to say about it.) I think there'll be one more chapter(?) Don't quote me on that. I think it might be moving a bit fast at the moment. It's a problem I seem to have in most of my writing; I think it's probably a product of my automatic assumption as an author that everyone knows the minute backstories of my Austin and Ally like I've constructed them in my head. Oy. So yes. Sorry about that. And also sorry about the absurd author's note. Can I blame it on sleep deprivation?

TL;DR: This=Doozy. Story may be moving too fast. Apologies!

As always, let me know what y'all think?

Take my hand,

take my whole life too;
For I can't help

falling in love with you.

-Elvis Presley

"Want to explain to me why my best friend hasn't touched her songbook in days?"

Trish smacks Austin in the back of the head as she slides into the seat across from him at Mini's. Austin's looks at his french fries despondently.

"I'm not in the mood right now, Trish."

"Well too bad. I am." She picks up the fries and throws them into the garbage can behind her. "Now talk."

"Hey, I was eating those!" Austin protests.

Trish frowns. "Sure you were." She turns to fully face him and crosses her arms. "So. What do you have to say for yourself, Austin Moon?"

"She told me something and I didn't handle it well." Austin fiddles with a napkin. "I don't know what else you want me to tell you."

"So she finally told you she's in love with you?"

Austin drops the napkin. "You knew?"

Trish scoffs. "Ally's my best friend. Of course I knew."

Austin returns to shredding the paper in front of him. "Right. Stupid question."

Trish reaches over and pulls the napkin out of his hands. "No. What's stupid is why you didn't sweep her off her feet, spew out some quote from the romance movies I know you watch, and tell her you loved her back. Because it's obvious to everyone in the entire world that you're hopelessly head over heels." She pauses, tilting her head. "Some aliens on Mars have probably seen it, too."

"W-bu-no, that's ridiculous." Austin finally sputters out. "I mean, I love her, but just as a friend. As a partner. Just because I appreciate her music and our friendship doesn't mean I'm in love with her."

Trish raises her eyebrows. "Now I see what Dez means."

"You and Dez have been talking about me?"

"Well, duh." She shrugs. "When two people who are obviously meant to be suddenly stop speaking to each other, their best friends usually talk about it." Her voice is surprisingly perceptive. "And since you dodging her turned into her avoiding you like the plague, my assumption is that you tried to tell her you didn't care about the same way. And Ally being Ally, she believed you." She looks at him sharply. "And I'm assuming somewhere along the way you royally screwed up and made her feel like you just don't care about her at all."

Austin stares at Trish, dumbfounded. "How did you...?"

"I know you, Austin. And more importantly, I know Ally. She's got a fair bit of self-reliance, but she also cares so deeply about the people in her life. Ally would never avoid you for this long unless she thought you didn't want her around."

"That's not true though; of course I want her around! She's my best friend." Austin swings a hand wildly to emphasize his point. "Nothing is the same right now, and I can't do it without her. She has to know that."

"Her head might. But her heart doesn't." Trish says with a sad smile. "And I don't blame her for being confused. You say things like that and you still haven't realized you love her?"

"I do love her. I'm just not in love with her." Austin's voice is emphatic.

"Mhm." Trish says skeptically.

"But that doesn't mean I don't want what's best for her. It doesn't mean I don't think she deserves someone special. Because she does. Deserve someone special, I mean." Austin pauses, an unconscious smile drifting across his face as he thinks about his best friend. "She deserves someone who likes cloud-watching and pickles. Someone who will take her to see the movies she loves, someone who understands French historical dramas and Shakespeare, someone good at crafting and coloring inside the lines. Someone patient and romantic, who plans picnics under the stars and watches silent films. Someone who isn't on tour for half the year, someone who's normal and nice and will treat her like she deserves to be treated." He pauses for a breath, and the next words are more painful than they have any right to be. "Someone who isn't me."

"We both know that she doesn't want all those things, Austin." Trish's reply is unusually gentle. "She just wants someone who loves her." Her voice is chastising. "A best friend."

Austin's head spins a little as Trish's words slip past the excuses he's so carefully constructed. His breath whooshes out in a rush as his defenses slip just enough for him to consider facing the truth.

"Trish." Austin drops his head to his hands as he finally admits to himself what he's really so scared of. "I just-I don't think I know how to love her right."

Trish's gaze is knowing. "It's Ally, Austin. Not Kira or Cassidy or Brooke, not a fan or a girl you've never met. You know her better than almost anyone, and she knows you just as well. And if she were here right now, she'd tell you you were being ridiculous."

And all of a sudden, in a rush of clarity, everything vanishes: the excuses, the selective oblivion, the fear.

"I have been a colossal moron." Austin breathes out.

"Yeah." Trish pats him on the arm. "You're lucky she likes you anyways."

Austin's voice is hopeful. "Think she'll forgive me?"

"You're the one who's seen a zillion romcoms. You tell me." Trish stands, expression faintly smug. "My work here is done."

Austin waves at her absent-mindedly as she walks away. She laughs quietly as she hears him muttering under his breath.

"I'll need a guitar, and some flowers, and I should call Dez about getting a stereo, and maybe Mr. Dawson will let me set up something in the practice room..."

The next day finds Ally in Sonic Boom, chewing nervously on the end of her hair. It's a habit that she's broken, for the most part, but today's a special occasion. Trish has been walking around all day oddly quiet, with a self-congratulatory expression on her face. This alone is enough to throw Ally off her game; Trish planning something with subtlety is rarely good. On top of that, she's already occupied with juggling school and work while avoiding her blond writing partner. Austin's been trying to seek her out for the past few days, but Ally's not quite certain how to face the prospect of navigating their friendship again. She's still hurt by his callous dismissal of her confession, and while she understands it must be spectacularly uncomfortable for him, it stings when she thinks about how much less their relationship means to him than her. But today, Austin's been surprisingly and conspicuously absent. Ally's not sure if he and Trish are in cahoots, or if he's just busy today, or if he's finally given up. (Against her better judgment, her heart sinks at the thought.)

She brings herself back to focus when customers start to filter into the store. There's a lot of stock that still needs to be put out, and for the first time, she's grateful for a busy day. It's easier to focus on inventory and numbers and helping other people with instrumental problems than torturing herself by trying to figure out how to handle Austin, or Trish, or haywire emotions.

Ally's stacking spare sheet music on top of the violin racks when she hears a soft guitar riff playing. Puzzled, she tilts her head. The music fades, and she dismisses it as white noise in the mall. Then it sounds again, and she turns towards the door, minding her balance as the ladder underneath her creaks. There in the front of the store is the very boy who's been on her mind for the past week. Austin's wearing a suit and tie, holding an enormous bouquet of flowers, with his guitar slung over one shoulder. Ally giggles as she sees Dez standing behind Austin, holding a boom box as big as his entire torso.

"Austin, w-" Ally's interrupted as Austin strums the chords of a familiar song and music comes blaring out of Dez's stereo.

There's no way I could make it without you,

do it without you,

be here without you.

It's no fun when you're doing it solo,

with you it's like whoa,

yeah and I know...

Then the song changes, and Ally sighs inwardly.

I love the things you do,

it's how you do the things you love,

but it's not a love song,

not a love song.

I love the way you get me,

but correct me if I'm wrong;

this is not a love song,

not a love song.

Ally raises a hand to stop Austin from continuing.

"Austin, what is all this?" She says tiredly, gesturing in his direction.

"An apology." He says hopefully, walking closer with the bouquet. "Just let me finish?"

Ally's voice is on the verge of tears, and it stops Austin in his tracks. "I don't need an apology, Austin. I just need time. I'm sorry we haven't written for awhile, but you have to give me some sp-"

"It's not about the writing, Ally." Austin looks up at her pleadingly. "It's about us. Austin and Ally."

"W-What?" She replies, bewildered. She turns towards him fully, but the movement shifts the ladder off balance and it wavers in the air for a brief second.

"Austin?" Ally gasps, just as the entire structure comes tumbling down.

"ALLY."

Austin is seconds too late to catch her and his heart stops as Ally's head hits the ground with a dull thud. The three steps it takes to reach her feel like a millennium. He pulls her into his lap the moment she's close enough to grasp. Her eyes are closed and she's tootootoo still as Austin reaches for her wrist with shaking hands; his breath stutters as he feels a wavering pulse. He brushes a stray curl from her cheek and his voice cracks as he says her name.

"Ally. Wake up. Ally. Just open your eyes. Please."

Faintly from behind him he hears Dez on the phone with the paramedics, hears the mall crowds and the sirens and then authoritative voices. But all that matters to Austin is holding Ally, saying her name over and over like the chorus of an unfinished song, trying to forget the sight of her falling. Almost within arms reach, but not quite. Not quite. AllyAllyAllyAllyAllyAllyAllypleasewakeup.

He vaguely realizes that Dez and Trish are pulling at him and someone's saying his name: that there are people trying to take Ally from him. He clings to her desperately, before Dez finally tugs him back.

"Austin, stop. Stop. They're here to help. They're taking her to the hospital. She's going to get better. Everything'll be fine. Austin. Can you hear me?"

But Dez's voice is blurred, out of focus, as Austin turns to watch the paramedics load Ally onto a stretcher and roll her out the door.

"I never got to tell her." He whispers, eyes fixated on the empty doorway.

"What did you say?"

Austin turns to look at Dez, eyes bright with pain. He repeats himself hollowly, helplessly.

"I never got to tell her that it is a love song."

Next up: A confession, a hospital bed, and a songwriter awake?