Why, hello there you little Fanfiction darlings!

Don't ask me where that came from, because I don't know.

Thank you to reviewers. Only one reviewed, but I got several favorites and alerts so that's great! Thanks, everyone.

This chapter is a little bit of filler, too, but I promise things will speed up in future chapters. Please don't hate on me Haha

Chad.

xXx

I tapped my pencil on the page of the notebook as calmly as I could, resisting the urge to throw the notebook and pencil at the wall. The idea hung in my thoughts for a moment as I debated it, but then shook my head. I can't damage my songbook!

So, I'm not exactly sure if it's too girly to have a songbook or something, but I'm positive it is manlier than a song pillow.

My brow crumpled as I thought of the song pillow, which led me to the song pillow person. I closed my eyes, shaking my head again and again. For the past five months I've done that, and sometimes I think that one day it'll be so shaken it'll fall out my ear, but that only happens in my dreams- er, nightmares.

You see, these kind of random, pointless and or ridiculous thoughts keep me from thinking about certain things and or people. A certain one person. A certain one person with the shiniest brown hair you will ever see and the deepest chocolate eyes you'll ever got lost in and-

But she doesn't exist.

I mean, my brain fell out my ear in my nightmares yesterday night!

I sighed deeply, tossing the blank pages and the writing utensil on the bed as I let myself fall into the comfortable sheets. Day after day, week after week. It's all the same. Everything is so boring, so bland, so pointless. The California sun would rise, then it would fall. The leaves would change color, fall off the trees, and then grow back. Everything is so boring!

Well, they have been for the five past months.

I let my mind wander. I like to picture it in my head- a little Chad Dylan Cooper walking along the path but in a restricted area. Pass that fence and you'll find some of the most heart-wrenching memories, broken dreams and luckless love. The worst of it all.

In my restricted area, a sheep jumped over the fence. I glared, jealous of the animal. Why couldn't I jump over the fence? Oh, right, I abused what was over the fence and took it for granted.

If you're wondering about the specific details of what is over the fence, it's Condor Studios, It's my friends, my ex, and my job. It's my life. And I can't go to it.

Why not?

Because you took it for granted and you suck.

I mean, blah, blah, blah. I would take it all back…I would turn back time…I would change my ways…nothing can change the way I hurt her. Nothing can change the way she hurt me. I can't go back to that one specific day when she told me right to my face that she chose So Random over Mack Falls- that she chose her friends over me.

I rolled over onto my stomach, glaring venomously at the empty songbook that seemed to laugh in my face. Everywhere I went I tried to take phrases, rhyming words, anything to create a few stanzas and grab my guitar. But nothing. Nothing seemed to fit, nothing seemed to be good enough, and, honestly, nothing seemed to really matter

Well, ever since five months ago.

Not a single heartfelt song was written. I was doomed.

The only thing that has been keeping me holding on is the last tiny shred of hope that lingered in my heart that soon, incredibly soon, I would see her face. I would be close to her. I would be able to look into her eyes once again and know that I was home. And she was, too.

See, if I didn't have that hope in me I'd probably cry for hours like those hopeless saps in the movies. But every time I lose control when I'm alone, I kind of…break. These salty tears form in my eyes and they slide down my cheeks, and I feel this pulling at my stomach, pulling me towards nothing. But I don't cry. I don't. I simply…sadden. That's all.

I took a deep breath. Yep. I totally cry.

But the day after I sadden- sadden- I need to feel manlier. So, I go to the gym. My private gym, of course. So, I've practically gotten incredibly ripped and saddened a lot throughout the time span of five months.

Even though I cry, I still don't know what to do.

I don't know why I do it. I don't know why when I'm lying in my room I feel like thinking about her. I don't know why every time I am awakened by the morning sun I come up with these crazy metaphors. But then I do…when I think about some of our moments together, some of our good times…I just- cry. I cry, okay?

I think it's just frustration.

Because ever since her senseless producer signed her off on that break she's been gone. Nata. Zip. And I've been alone. Crying. Frustrated. I see her in the magazines, her face printed across the front pages of all of them as they cry out to me that she still hasn't made a public appearance the press has caught in five months. No recent activities. No update. Nothing.

You think she would call me, right? Well, I have no idea. But I want her to. It's the least she can do.

So I guess that means she's done nothing.

But who am I to say so? I've sat around, staring at blank notebook paper and breaking every Number 2 pencil that comes within five feet of me. I've got nothing. It's like the only things I feel are pain and nothingness, but there's still that little shred. That hope. And I cling to it like my life depends on it. But, hey, you know, it probably does.

Every book I read. Every show I watch. Every meal I eat. Every time I sleep. Every little thing will remind me.

One night I made myself a steak.

"So, how come you guys get steak and So Random doesn't?"

"Well, because we're real actors, Sonny."

Something in my stomach shifted.

I read an article one afternoon.

It's been a confusing three months here in Hollywood for our Sonny Monroe fans. Over that span of time not a single appearance, not one show, zero reunions for Miss Monroe. The press and I wonder how Chad Dylan-

I laid down on my bed one night after working out.

Sonny flopped down on the bed in my dressing room.

"This is so comfy!" She giggled. "Chad, do you ever use this?"

"Of course."

"Come here."

I came onto the bed with her, and she playfully wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down into the pillows-

I got so bored one night I was flipping through the channels on the television and stopped at a cheesy soap opera.

"We can never be together, Jason!" A young woman sighed as she put a hand to her chest.

"Yes, we can!" Jason said. "No one has to know. Don't let them come between us, Jasmine!"

"Oh, Jason!" Jasmine cried.

Then the two lived happily ever-

Yeah, right.

I didn't realize I was hyperventilating. I slowed my breathing, calmed my lonely heart and relaxed. I focused on the new chord progressions I had memorized a few weeks ago. The airing of Lovely and Lyrical had me even more anxious and emotional and lazy than ever, so nothing was written by me recently. Sure, I had some music, but no lyrics. Not a single heartfelt word.

I was beginning to wonder how long I would last on this show, anyways.

I grabbed my notebook and pencil again and wrote something down.

Blah blah blah. Love. Blah blah blah. Heartbreak. Blah blah blah.

Once again I shook my head and "my brain fell out of my ear". I pushed my face into the pillow and began humming a random tune.

Then I realized that it wasn't random at all. I turned over again and beganto sing to myself while taping my leg.

"Hey there Delilah

What's it like in New York City?

I'm a thousand miles away

But tonight you look so pretty

Yes you do…"

"Who's Delilah?" She asked anxiously.

I smirked. "A certain brunette."

She began to play with her hair, frowning at the color.

"Sonny," I laughed. 'It's you."

I smacked my forehead to get those memories out of my head. I pushed little Chad Dylan Cooper off the fence that blocked the restricted area. And then I just sat there, thinking…

"Oh my gosh! You're-you're- you're…"

"Chad Dylan Cooper?"

I groaned.

"Well played, Monroe." I stared at her, for the first time ever I really looked at her, and realized she was a very pretty girl. "We should hang out sometime."

She blushed. "The camera's off, Chad."

"I know."

I smacked my forehead repeatedly.

"I want to show you something," She said, looking embarrassed. "It's the cause of all this mess."

She motioned to all the sheet music on the floor.

Then she sat me down across from her in her dressing room, and rested her guitar on her leg. She began to strum an interesting melody.

"My state of mind

Has finally got the best of me

I need you next to me…"

I stayed on that note and shot up from my bed, grabbing my guitar and humming the note to myself. I moved my finger to the second string and up the frets until…bingo.

I just heard the first note in the song she dedicated to me.

For a moment, I just sat silently, thinking about the absurdness of it all.

Then I continued the chord progression I remembered perfectly.

"My state of mind

Has finally got the best of me

I need you next to me…"

I put the guitar down, a certain feeling beginning to rise in me. I sat on my bed again and flopped down. And I saddened.

I just cried.

Two more days, I thought. Two more day until I see her face.