"Breaking news tonight! Shooting Star crashes and burns. It has just been announced that the band is splitting after their European tour that was almost canceled because of front-man Adam Wilde. 'Wilde Man' has been known to cause division in the band in the past, but the official cause of the band's demise has not been disclosed at this time. The band is set to have a farewell show in Portland on Saturday night..."

I turn the tv off without listening to the rest of the report. That is the third time that I have heard that reported this morning alone, but it's been talked about nonstop since the tabloids were informed two months ago. I'm not sure who gave them their information about the tour almost being canceled, but that isn't true. I'm not sure that the farewell show is a good idea, either. The band hasn't exactly been friendly the past couple months. The end of the tour was almost excruciatingly painful. I sigh as I get off the couch and head into the bedroom to pack the remainder of my belongings that have yet to be packed, which isn't really that much. All I have is what I brought back with me from Europe and the things that I bought here and there since I've been back in New York. The rest of my stuff, I assume, is either sitting in boxes in the small closet that Bryn and I used to keep my guitars in, or spread out between the Salvation Army and the dump. Most of Mia's stuff has been packed up already. The only things that remain are all of her pictures and a couple of pieces of clothing that can probably fit in a single suitcase.

Making this decision was hard for both of us. We've both become accustomed to her little house here. There wasn't much space here, but she made as much room for me as she possibly could. To me, this place felt more like home than any other place I've lived. As for Mia, I told her she didn't have to come back with me. My plan was to play the show, gather whatever was left of my belongings in LA, and I'd come back here, but she wouldn't agree. I think part of her worried that I might not return. Not because I wouldn't want to, but because I might not make it. She never voiced this, but I could see it in the look in her eyes. Throughout the conversation there was this somewhat frenzied expression shining through her calm demeanor. So she decided that this was a step that we would take together. I also knew she worried that the voices would go away if she went back to Oregon. I promised her I'd help her listen out for them.

So here we are, packing our things and getting ready to move across the country, back to where we started and where it all fell apart. I grab my small duffel back that I used to keep all of my personal belongings in when I would travel with the band and pack it full with my shampoo, toothbrush, and other various items that are lying around. I open the medicine cabinet and remove all of Mia's skin creams and other things that I have no idea what they are or why she needs them.

"How's the packing going?" She asks, standing in the doorway.

She got up early this morning so she could go to the post office and have them forward her mail to her grandparents house. Mine is still going to LA I assume.

"Fine, I guess," I shrug. "You know how I feel about it."

"I know," she laughs. "But this time we have to take it all."

In the past when I would hit the road with the band, I'd bring a couple changes of clothes, my toothbrush, and my guitars. Not only was there not much space in the van, I also just hated having to pack when I would just have to unpack it later. Besides, I don't see why people need to bring so much stuff with them when they're only going to be gone for a few days, maybe a couple weeks. But this time, like Mia said, is different.

"Why don't you go put the boxes that are already packed in the car and I'll finish up in here," she smiles again. "That's not so bad, is it?"

"It could be worse," I shrug and turn to walk out of the room.

"Hey," she says, pulling me into a hug.

"Hmm?" I ask as I wrap myself around her small frame.

"I don't want anything to change," she says quietly.

"It won't. You'll still be able to go back and forth for recitals and I'm sure you'll stay in contact with Ernesto and..." She cuts me off.

"That's not what I meant."

I know that's not what she meant. When I look down, her wide eyes are staring up at me. Strands of hair are in her face. As much as I would like to, I can't guarantee that nothing is going to change. Oregon is where our history is. I don't know what's going to happen, but I know it won't be like the past couple of years didn't happen. I brush the hair out of her face and cup her cheek with my hand. She leans into my palm and takes a deep breath.

"We're gonna be fine," I tell her, kissing her forehead slowly.

"I don't want you to change your mind," she says, her voice unstable.

"Change my mind?" I repeat. "Why would I change my mind?"

"Because. Because it's going to be so complicated - getting used to new schedules, working around recitals. Because you might miss your old life. The band. The rockstar life. Bryn."

"Listen here, Hall," I pull back and look straight into her eyes. "I am not going to change my mind. The past five years of my life have revolved around you, Mia. Every single minute of every single day. It didn't matter where I was or where you were or if we were fighting or even if we weren't speaking. That life I had, it wasn't a life. I'm not going to go back to the band. I don't want that rockstar lifestyle. And I absolutely do not want Bryn Shraeder. Everything I have done, all of it, I did to get you off my mind, even just for a little while."

"Adam," she whispers, tears now falling down her cheeks.

"What?" I ask her, running my hand down the side of her face.

"We have to finish packing," she laughs through the last of her tears.

I nod my head and walk to the living room to grab some of our boxes. Ever since we got back together, Mia hasn't been the same. She was always the girl that knew what she wanted. Even if she acted like she was having a hard time making a decision, she always knew what she wanted deep down. She was always so stubborn and so independent. Lately, she's clingy and can't decide what she wants. I love having her back in my life, but sometimes I think that it's doing her more harm than good. I take the first group of boxes out to the car. Since I was originally planning on doing the tour and then going right back to LA, I left my car there, and of course Mia didn't have one since everything she needs is within walking distance, so we had to rent one. Renting a car to drive across the country in definitely was not cheap. When I walk back into the house, Mia already has the items from the bathroom packed. I can see her standing next to the bed, carefully putting away all of her pictures. Sometimes it still is so surreal that she's actually standing in front of me. The world may think that Bryn is the very definition of beauty, but she's got nothing on Mia. I walk up behind her and run my fingers through her hair.

"Adam!" she jumps and turns around. "You scared me."

"Sorry, Hall," I smirk.

"I'm almost done in here," she says turning back around.

"I remember that one," I point to the photograph in her hand. "When we came back from the show that night, they were sitting in the living room laughing at him."

Teddy stands in the middle of the room, Mia's cello in hand. The two were always competing in height, but in this picture he's an entire head taller than it because he's in Mia's heels. Kat and Denny were on the couch cheering him on. He was always listening to rock music, especially his dad's old music and Shooting Star's, so he said that he wanted to see what it would be like to be Mia for once. I captured the moment with my phone and sent it to Mia later.

"I didn't know you printed that one out."

"I had to," she smiles widely.

I kiss the back of her head and then go into the other room to carry out more boxes before I lose my cool. Losing those three was hard for me, too. Even though I wasn't related to them, I felt like I was apart of the family. Going on without Kat and Denny was bad enough, but Teddy. Teddy was what made me vomit. I try not to think about it as I pack our boxes into the rental car. If I think about it, then she'll know and she'll think about it, too. I know that she already is, but I don't want to make it worse.

"Maybe we should have rented a larger car," Mia says shoving a box into the trunk.

"Well, there's always the backseat," I shrug.

I know that my guitars and Mia's cello are getting strapped into the backseat, along with her box of pictures, but there will still be space for a box or two.

"I don't know," she sighs. "Are we doing the right thing, Adam?"

"I think we are," I shrug. "I've missed being back home."

And that did it. That simple statement, the simple acknowledgement that I have feelings, sends her over the edge again. But this time, her breakdown doesn't come with tears. This one comes with anger.

"Well no one told you you had to stay here, Adam," she yells.

"Mia," I sigh, "I don't want to do this right now. I don't want to spend our last couple minutes here being miserable."

"You're right," she sighs as well. "Let's just finish up."

We pack

our remaining boxes into the car in silence. While I'm strapping in our instruments, Mia disappears inside. I walk to the front door and stick my head inside.

"Hall!" I yell.

When silence is my only response, I meander into the house and find her in the bedroom.

"There are so many memories here," she mumbles as she runs her hand over the now vacant bed.

"Yeah, there are," I agree, remembering our first night here together. "But it's not home, Mia. All of our memories, they're in Oregon. The good, the bad, we went through it together and that's where our home is. That's where I want to be, with you."

"You're right," she grimaces. "Well then I guess it's time to go."