Summary: He messed up in the past; now she belongs to someone else. One fateful wish may be all he needs to win her back. He had one last chance. He better not screw it up a second time. Auslly, AU.
A/N: Weeeeell... I've read all your comments, and I was a little... intrigued... Sorry for the crappy editing. I'm really tired, especially after a week of exams, but I'm DONE! DONE with school! Woohoo!
Last chapter – not including epilogue! We're almost done, in two months, too! Awesome! We reached 50 reviews – 60! Woah! You guys are amazing! (Wanna try 75 reviews? Possible 100? That would be awesome!) Well... this chapter was extremely hard to write, and long-ish; shorter than the last, but longer than usual chapters. You'll get to see Austin's POV of this whole situation... you'll feel for him! ;) I'm still in an angst-y mood, so don't blame me for the overload of angst... thanks to watching Romeo + Juliet (1996). That was just horrible and crappy and so depressing. I mean, she woke up right just moments before he drank the poison, and DAMN! Are you serious? He should have called his name or something. GAH! I'm just so angry at the outcome.
Okay. I'm done ranting. Review! (:
Darkstin, Insanestin (Dark; Insane – Au/stin; )
Warnings: OOC, Not beta'd, swearing/language (Mostly Austin's fault. _ (F-bombs! I warn!)), mentions of sexual things, depression, etc.
More reviews = Faster updates!
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Austin&Ally. I wish. But, no.
CH VII:
M.I.S.E.R.Y.
Eternity.
It felt like eternity.
Seconds. Seconds ticked by, becoming minutes as he stared into darkness.
Minutes. Minutes passed by, morphing into hours.
Hours. Hours into days.
Days. Days to weeks.
Weeks. Week to months.
He couldn't breath.
He was immobile.
He attempted to move his hand, a finger at least, but he couldn't. He wasn't in control of his own body. He couldn't even open his mouth to shout for her to stop, to don't leave him like this, that he needed her desperately.
He stayed frozen in spot like a statue for what seemed like eternity.
His body ached all over, longing for that certain someone to be beside him (Ally. Ally. Ally.).
He feared that if he didn't do something quick, he would go insane – more than he could – was – at the moment. He would go insane with want and need. He would crumble and become nothing but a mere image of his former self.
Ally Dawson – she was the only factor in his life that kept him calm and collected. That kept him anchored to reality, and kept him from fading from life altogether.
Not Dez, his best friend who he trusted for the trivial things of his life, and for most of his life before he met Ally.
Not Trish, his manager and close friend who he formerly went to for guidance in situations in which he couldn't handle himself, and couldn't comprehend on what to do.
Not alcohol, which he used for escaping the reality of life, and the intoxication of fame.
Not drugs, which he took (from time to time) to relieve him of the pressure of life, and the expectations he had to uphold when being a famous celebrity.
Not some random girl, the one-night stands, he some times used to release his frustration on life.
Not parties, which he attended to let loose and let all his stress go.
Not his so-called "friends", who he hung out with to pretend to be happy with his current life.
It was only Ally. Ally who was the calming factor in his lonely, isolated, and fake life, one which he had no control over.
She was the anchor to sanity.
She made him act like a real person.
She made him real.
She was real.
Not the fucking stupid image conjured up by Hollywood; turning those average, everyday people, people like Miley Cyrus, Lindsay Lohan, and Brittany Spears; into something they're not.
Take him, Austin Moon, for example. He used to be a simple guy, with big dreams, who loved simple things like pancakes, stuffed animals, scary movies. Before he got a taste of fame and fortune, he was changed – all his morals were destroyed with simple intoxication of money and fame.
...But now, he was morphed into something he wasn't.
And he hated it so much. He hated being this way.
He wished he could go back to how he was before all this crap occurred.
He was now stuck in a complicated situation. He turned into an alcoholic, (some times) a drug addict, and he was now a cheater. It was plastered on every tabloid. Everyone knew of his wrongdoings and his mistakes that he made every step of the way.
...Of how he stepped away from reality to delusion, to idealism, to make-believe.
It was fucked up.
Tabloids... they had the ability – the fucking power – to change what someone really was to something they really weren't. They could change someone's reputation with one paragraph of words.
They had no fucking clue, so why the fuck should they meddle around in some business that isn't theirs?
Fuck off. (Oh how hated them. If it were possible, he hated them with every bone – every fiber – in his body.)
Ally.
Ally.
Ally.
AllyAllyAllyAllyAlly.
Only her. She was the only real person he knew. She was the only one who stayed true to herself – who stayed real.
She was realistic.
There hasn't been a one time in which she wasn't beside him – for him – whether they were fighting or not, she was always there for him. She would always forgive him and always go out of her way to satisfy him.
But... now... she was gone.
Forever.
All because of his fucking mistakes.
His savior was missing.
:::
...
[It's like I live all alone but I know he's here everyday
See his shoes, clothes, cologne but mentally you're fading away
Broken all your guarantees and I'm like, damn that aint you
You told me together we'd be forever
Lately all we do is disagree over ** that aint cool
Grab my bags a million times (but can't get to the point where I'm through)
By the look of this, I'm in love with him
And invested too much to lose, so I do whatever it takes]
...
:::
He was fucked up.
He knew she would eventually give up on him and get tired of his inconsistent shit and crap everyday. It wouldn't take long for someone to get tired of this heartbreak that happened on a day-to-day basis, after all.
Hell, even he would be tired of this cycle, if he were someone else, but he couldn't stop, no matter how hard he tried to resist it. He wanted to stop, but his will wasn't enough consent to stop all stupid choices he made.
But he didn't expect her to leave so quick, and this early. Just because he believed she would leave him, it didn't mean that he wanted her to leave him.
No.
Never.
Not if he had a say in it.
He would find a way to get her back. He would find a way for her to forgive him. He would find a way for her to help him with these problems.
She gave him three more chances – if he made three mistakes, they were over for good, but he messed it all up, again. And that's how he lost her.
...It was just an addiction. (It, referring to his inability to make good choices, and his love for partying, alcohol, fame, fortune, all everything else that comes with being a huge celebrity.)
It was something that he couldn't control.
And that's how his life spiraled out of control without his consent.
...That's how he lost the love of his life: Ally Dawson.
:::
Seconds. Seconds ticked by, becoming minutes as he stared into darkness.
Minutes. Minutes passed by, morphing into hours.
Hours. Hours into days.
Days. Days to weeks.
Weeks. Week to months.
He collapsed internally.
His whole world fell before his eyes. She slipped from his fingers like water slipping through the cracks of his hands.
He was afraid.
He was afraid of the next outcome, afraid of the next events that were fated to happen.
He was afraid he would be locked up in a rehab for his mental insanity.
Déjà vu.
How could he mess up?
How could he have lost her again?
And after he just got her back, too! (He had only had her in his arms for five days. It was less than a fucking week! What the hell? How could he mess up like that?)
His life was collapsing.
He was slowly dying on the inside.
His heart was racing in worry. It was beating so fast that he was afraid that his heart would jump out of his chest and burst open, exploding all over the room.
His body was numb.
He couldn't eat. He would have thrown up everything he had eaten, anyways.
He couldn't drink. Water would have tasted stale and he would have assumed that it was poison for all that it was doing for him, only causing him to regret drinking in the first place, and plaguing him instead of quenching his thirst.
He couldn't sleep. Sleeping would only invoke nightmares, which would plague his dreams continually.
He was basically a living corpse.
His life was fucked up.
He couldn't control his actions.
Fate was fucked up.
He was given one more chance by fate, and fate just used him, played him, and laughed at his stupidity.
Fate was playing with him like a fucking game – like he was an instrument.
Fate wanted to give him another chance, so that he would mess up again in the end – to let him suffer by going through the same misery – the same hell – twice.
Why was fate so fucking cruel?
He was furious.
What the hell?
What the hell?
WHAT THE HELL?
Was someone – something – really enjoying and laughing at his predicament? Was this situation so funny that they had to make him go through the same hell twice?
It was fucked up!
He finally got a hold of his body movements and immediately did what he wanted to do in the beginning: release some stress, by punching something.
The wall, preferably.
He punched a wall viciously, never relenting in strength. He punched full force, full strength. He gave it his all, hoping that by punching the wall, his stress would dissolve into thin air.
Except, it didn't go as planned. He did get rid of some stress, but he also got pain pulsing through his right hand. He clenched his teeth together tightly, refusing to acknowledge the pain, and groan in agony.
Instead, stubborn as he was, he glared at the limb, threatening it to stop pulsing in pain. It would bruise, he could immediately deduct with one glance.
Pain was a sign of weakness, and he refused to show weakness.
:::
He wished he could take back all the mistakes he made.
Slowly.
Slowly.
He was being torn from the inside every second without her by his side... he was being torn knowing that Ally broke up with him.
...Why was fate so cruel?
Why was he so stupid?
He slipped into a deeper depression.
:::
...
[Cause my morning cannot break
Break until we get, get back to when
Said I really wanna get back to when (I was your safe place)
Cause my morning cannot break
Break until we get, get back to when
Said I really wanna get back to when (love was)
I'll do it all over again cause I know right now what you mean to me
I'll do it all over again if it makes your heart come running back to me
Lover, do what it takes for us, just so we can get back to when
Said I really wanna get back to when (love was)]
...
:::
Seconds. Seconds ticked by, becoming minutes as he stared into darkness.
Minutes. Minutes passed by, morphing into hours.
Hours. Hours into days.
Days. Days to weeks.
Weeks. Week to months.
He was in the same position she left him in days before, except for the fact that he was now sitting on the floor, stiff.
He was starving, but no way in hell would he move from his spot.*
He was suffering.
He couldn't sleep.
He was depressed.
He was dying.
He had no contact with the outside world.
It was crazy.
How could one be so crazy about a girl who he had met only five years prior to the current day situation?
He slipped in an out of a depression.
No one was near him. He was ultimately alone in the apartment Ally and he shared... maybe not anymore. Maybe this was just his apartment now.
He stared blankly in front of him, at the empty wall.
His body craved for some food, water, and sleep. He was deprived of each necessity for living, but he couldn't go through with it, knowing that he would just suffer without her.
What's the point of living, if he couldn't live without her?
Beside him, his iPhone vibrated, notifying him of several text messages he received. His eyes wandered to the mobile device for a split second. He was a little hopeful that Ally would have texted him, but he doubted it.
His arm moved slightly and he held the device in his hand gently. He unlocked his iPhone and checked his messages, ignoring the pain that pulsed slightly through his hands upon the contact of pressure. What he saw didn't exactly disappoint him, but at the same time, didn't motivate and satisfy him.
It was Dez.
It was Trish.
It was Mike.
But, it wasn't Ally.
Why wasn't he surprised (not even a bit?)?
:::
...
[I'd walk a thousand miles just get back to the time
When we kissed, our love was never missed (now baby)
You be running around, claiming you aint got the time for me
Is there someone other than me, tell me (It's not what it appears to be)
Ohh, that you would be untrue to me (you would be untrue)
Because I can't, take that thought of someone else with my treasure
I'll just lose it babe, so I do what it takes...]
...
:::
He opened the messages from Dez, reading it, but not responding.
'Yo, Austin, where are you?' No response from him; a few days ago.
Another one, sent two days later: 'Dude? You okay?' Again, no response from him.
'You gonna answer me?' He snorted weakly. 'Nope. Not answering.'
'Hey, well, I just wanted to tell you that if you ever need someone to talk to... I'm here. We're best friends, remember?' He smiled as soon as I read this text. It was sent early today.
Of course. Dez and he would always be best friends, no matter what. Dez always had his back, when they were younger they trusted each other for everything. Now, 10 years later, they changed and grew up, but they still had each other's back.
Then, he went on to read Trish's texts. This one was sent a few days ago.
'Austin. What. Did. You. Do. To. Ally.?' His eyes widened and he reread it twice to make sure he read right.
"What?" he uttered, his voice sore from the lack of use. His fingers itched to type out a text message on his iPhone asking what happened to Ally, where she was, is she ok, and other questions similar to that, but he refrained himself from carrying out that deed.
After all, Ally was pissed off at him, and he didn't want Trish to know what happened to them. He quirked an eyebrow when he saw another message that dated a few minutes ago.
'Austin. She's in pain, but she won't tell me. Whatever you did, you better make it right with her.' He frowned; his heart clenching painfully inside his chest.
:::
...
[Cause my morning cannot break
Break until we get, get back to when
Said I really wanna get back to when (I was your safe place)
Cause my morning cannot break
Break until we get, get back to when
Said I really wanna get back to when (love was)
I'll do it all over again cause I know right now what you mean to me
I'll do it all over again if it makes your heart come running back to me
Lover, do what it takes for us, just so we can get back to when
Said I really wanna get back to when (love was)]
...
:::
She... she was in pain?
He... he was the cause of her pain? He snapped his teeth together and clenched down because he needed something to relieve the pressure, and so far that was the only option (since his hands were bruised and unable to handle any pressure given).
He hated himself all the sudden.
He hated hurting her.
She was not supposed to shoulder his burden. She was supposed to be carefree.
Ally Dawson wasn't a perfect person, he realized. She was prone to make mistakes, too; she was a human being, after all, and humans make mistakes. No one was utterly perfect, but honestly, he thought she would come, the closest.
Flaws and perfection. What was the difference? Everyone had both aspects.
She wasn't perfect, but she was near perfection (at least he thought so).
She had beautiful lips, which made him want to kiss her oh so badly.
Her eyes, her beautiful eyes... They were dark brown chocolate eyes that were very expressive, and made him melt and crave for her to stare at him and only him so that he could experience such emotions coming from them.
She had such a beautiful and flawless face. There were no blemishes or scars, and everything suited her magnificent face perfectly. Perfect nose, perfect lips, perfect eyes – perfect everything.
She wasn't overweight, and she wasn't underweight, either. She was the perfect size.
She was kind and caring, as well as compassionate and thoughtful. She took other people's feelings into consideration, and put their needs before hers. She was everything everyone wanted in a girlfriend, all rolled into one person.
...But she also had flaws, just like everyone else.
One thing: she had stage fright – a horrible case, too. Her stage fright hindered her from achieving her ultimate goal of becoming an amazing singer and world-renowned celebrity (But, in his opinion, it was better that she had stage-fright, because she wouldn't end up like him... like how he was now. How broken he was now...).
And also, she let people take advantage of her because she was timid, and was afraid to speak up. He knew he took advantage of her once upon a time, when he stole her song and used it. And then, after that, he had her write him another song.
What a douche bag he was!
She was weak, and she let people influence her decisions because of that aspect. He remembered when the time he sneaked a peek in her songbook, and she was so angry. Trish was present when she was pissed off, and she influenced her to take revenged on him... and the time he stole her song, Trish influenced her, yet again.
...No one was perfect, he concluded. But Ally was close – oh so close.
Him, one the other hand, was nowhere close to perfect. He was imperfect. So imperfect. Nowhere close to where she was on the scale of perfection and imperfection.
She was perfect in his eyes, and that's what counts.
:::
...
[Love was, love was, love was (said I really wanna get back to when)
Love was, love was, love was (said I really wanna get back to when)]
...
:::
Seconds. Seconds ticked by, becoming minutes as he stared into darkness.
Minutes. Minutes passed by, morphing into hours.
Hours. Hours into days.
Days. Days to weeks.
Weeks. Week to months.
There have been several times in the past few days that he really spiraled into a horrible case of depression. While he was alone for three days, he had really contemplated hard, and he finally got a chance to think about things over as he stared silently at the wall before him.
His eyes were finally opened to the world, metaphorically speaking. He finally understood many things he had not before.
He had once thought about his past mistakes, and if he had one last chance, how he would make them all up, for sure. He promised that if he were given one last chance, he would resolve to make everything right. How he wouldn't make any more mistakes.
He had thought about being deprived of everything – fame, fortune, alcohol, drug, everything – and how he could survive without them.
He had once considered suicide to end all of this depression. (One day, he was running a finger over his wrist, feeling the veins pumping under his skin. He had seen knifes in the kitchen, and he was tempted to take it, to run it over his wrists, to see the blood ooze out of his skin (People always said that pain took away all problems, and he was tempted to try that theory), but something stopped him. A voice in his head kept on telling him to stop – to not do that, no matter what – and it sounded a lot like Ally. That would just mean that he was a weakling, that he couldn't face fear in the eye without whimpering and cowering. It meant that he couldn't man up and face all obstacles without determination.) What is a life without Ally? What was he without Ally? What would he do without her? How much did she mean to him?
And that led him to the next conclusion.
He thought about how this had been the very first time Ally had blandly ignored him in his time of need and turned her back on him. There has been no time, honestly, that she had ever left him alone.
This had been truly the first time he had been deprived of Ally.
He realized something important that day.
She meant a lot to him, and if he wanted her back, he had to be committed to winning her back. She was being tormented over and over by his brash mistakes and idiocy, and if continued this act, one day she might not be able to handle this entire burden and commit suicide or hang herself, or something.
:::
...
[When our love was not pretentious, couldn't move us inches
Now your miles away from me
My strength is weak but I just hold tight
Gripping on to dear life and its all for you to see
That I do what it takes]
...
:::
He finally grasped the concept.
He finally understood what he had to do to get her back. He knew that this had to count, to mean everything, that he had to put everything in it, or else she would forever disappear from him.
He got to his feet, stumbling slightly from the lack of food and water, leaning on the wall for support as he rose from the ground. He stumbled, trying to regain his footing.
Gradually, after a few more minutes, he stood up straight and stoned his expression with determination shining in his eyes.
"Ally," he chanted, reminding himself immediately of his goal.
'Ally, I'll make it up to you. Just give me one more chance. I won't fuck up again.' He grabbed a coat and slipped it on before entering the kitchen, heading to the doorway, and finally exiting his house.
He sprinted into the backyard, and to her apartment.
:::
...
[Cause my morning cannot break
Break until we get, get back to when
Said I really wanna get back to when (I was your safe place)
Cause my morning cannot break
Break until we get, get back to when
Said I really wanna get back to when (love was)
I'll do it all over again cause I know right now what you mean to me
I'll do it all over again if it makes your heart come running back to me
Lover, do what it takes for us, just so we can get back to when
Said I really wanna get back to when (love was)]
...
:::
When he got to her apartment, he rang the doorbell, and pounded on the door loudly.
But she didn't answer.
She didn't attempt to tell him to go away and leave him alone or scream at him or anything.
She just left his life like that.
Silence.
She just walked out of his life, just like that.
"Ally," he groaned, pleading. "I know you're in there."
Silence.
"Come out, please. I need to talk to you." He contemplated, before adding, "It's urgent. I desperately need to tell you this."
Silence enveloped him.
It was choking him with pity.
But didn't want any pity. Pity was a fucking nuisance.
Fuck pity.
"Ally!" he growled. He pounded on the door, louder than before. Once his beating stopped, silence took over again, and he felt oddly strangled and alone.
She was truly keeping her words of not relenting in punishment. She truly was kicking him out of her life, like she was never present in his life in the first place.
Now she's just someone he used to know. (The song, 'Somebody I Used to Know,' by Gotye, rang loudly in his ears, prodding him, and telling him that that song may apply to his relationship with Ally, if he let this whole ordeal go on without explanations, or compromises.)
No.
He didn't want it to end like that!
No!
She was slowly fading away like a distant memory...
"Ally!" he pleaded, his voice sounding alarmed at the notion of her not being in his life – disappearing just like that. "Ally..." he whispered, his voice getting quieter with each second that ticked by. "Don't... just don't..."
All he heard was the sound of his harsh breathing.
He leaned his head against the door in failure, his forehead against the entrance.
He resigned hope.
It began raining; the rain pounding on his back and all over his body harshly.
It was raining so hard, and it was so cold.
"Ally," he mumbled, hopelessly, wishing that she would come out and speak to him, even if she was chasing him off, yelling at him, and telling him to, 'Fuck off,' or something.
Something.
Anything.
Just... he needed to know that she acknowledged his presence. He only cared about her opinion – no one else's matter so much as hers.
He weakly looked up at the sky, luring his gaze away from the door to the sky, in silence. He wondered to himself, curiously, if heaven was crying tears for him, or was heaven laughing at his predicament?
"I'll be back, Ally," he mumbled, promising her.
He pushed himself off the door and walked off.
'I'll be back, Ally. I won't stop coming here and waiting outside of your apartment until you talk to me. At least once... I need acknowledgment – yelling, screaming, punching, kicking – anything. I need to know that you notice me. I need to know that "I'm not someone you used to know."'
He slowly walked away from the apartment, delaying his departure.
He could just feel her (her and her presence).
He was attracted to her, like magnets being drawn to one another.
He felt her presence. He knew she was in there, because he just knew.
He felt it, and he knew she did, too.
He quickly looked over his shoulder one last time, to commit the image of her house to his memory, before he departed, when his eyes connected with another pair of chocolate brown eyes that were peeking through the folds of the window curtains.
When they made eye contact, her eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly pulled the curtains together, turning her back on him, startled.
He smiled briefly to himself.
Just briefly (After all, the storm hasn't passed yet. It was the calm before the storm, alright...).
She had acknowledged him (even if she didn't speak to him), and that renewed his dying hope.
And it continued raining.
And he wasn't sure if it was a good thing, or a bad thing.
:::
...
[Love was, love was, love was (said I really wanna get back to when)
Love was, love was, love was (said I really wanna get back to when)]
...
:::
He had continually stood outside of her apartment, hoping that she would speak to him.
Sure she had acknowledged him in some sort, but that wasn't was special to him as his speaking to him.
He wanted – no, needed – to hear her voice, at least once, so that he could – would – sort this whole mess.
But she never gave him the chance, the opportunity that he had been hoping he would get, to do so...
A part of him – a little part inside of him – died every time she ignored him.
He had honestly ignored his concerts and his career altogether, in general. This had happened for one week without any arguments before he finally got back to his job, especially after Trish, his manager, and the companies that funded his concerts, had sternly warned him about his impending collapsing career. (They had told him (lectured him, morel like it) that he needed to focus more, or else his fans would abandon him. He was just lucky that they haven't, yet. Yet being the key word.)
And then one day he was performing at concert stadium located near the Mall of Miami (where his whole career began; where he first met Ally. He unconsciously smiled.), just a few miles from the shopping destination.
He found himself bringing up his mistakes, and addressing them to his fans that day. Maybe it was because his memories of his past self was bubbling up from playing near the Mall, where it had all began.
"To my fans: I just wanted to apologize for my behavior for the past few years as I was rising up to stardom." Silence filled the arena, but he continued his speech, taking it as a good sign. "When I dreamed of becoming a singer, I dreamed that I would stay the same and be the best there is.
"But, once I got the taste of fame and fortune – the luxurious life – I just changed. It just got to my head, so to speak." He looked at his fans in the eye, silently pleading them that he was sincerely sorry. "I'll admit, it got way out of hand this year, as well as the previous. I started drinking, and doing drugs, and I may have cheated – accidentally – on Ally, my one, and only, true love.
"I never realized how out of control I got, back then, until it was too late. My stupidity and obliviousness, as well as my inability to keep promises, caused me to lose Ally, my heart, my soul." He smiled sadly.
"Not only have I don't that, but I have disappointed my fans – you guys, who have been with me through my whole life, as I rose to stardom, and fame." He looked down in shame, but continued speaking. "My single most goal as a singer was to impress and please you guys with my music. That was I wanted to do. But something changed that goal as the years passed by.
"I know I've been a bad role model, and I've failed to be who you guys hoped to look up to, as well as my failure to make good decisions, but instead, bad decisions that influence you guys negatively, and how you look at me. I wouldn't be surprised if you guys looked at me in a different light," he joked.
"But, I'm sorry. I just wanted to say, simply, sorry." He could see some of his fans that were in the front rows, tearing up, which made him smiled to himself.
"I promise to be a better role model – a better person in general.
"I promise to never sink into that kind of lifestyle anymore.
"I promise to never cancel on you guys, again, when you guys were eager to just hear my music.
"I promise I won't fade away like that, anymore.
"And I promise to keep these promises." He smiled when he saw a majority of his supporters smiling at his last statement. They made him happy, as well.
"I'll say it again: I'm sorry. I will never change again. Those times for me were my darkest and weakest moments in life. But, I would like to thank you guys for sticking with me – for me – in my darkest times. I'm thankful that you guys didn't abandon me and left me in the dark when I messed up horribly. I'm sorry, and I love you all." He ended his speech with that last statement.
It has been a while since he had told his fans he loved them. So, he figured it was the right time to tell them that.
The stadium was silent for a moment...
...and then it erupted into a loud discord. The crowd cheered wildly, crazily, and loudly.
"We forgive you!"
"We love you too, Austin!"
"We support you!"
"We never thought of you in a bad way!"
He grinned goofily at his fans loud declarations.
Then, he just remembered something all the sudden.
"One last thing." It was silent again, so that they could hear him speak. He looked up into the sky, his eyes closing. "If you're listening, or if you're here, present, I just wanted to tell you something, Ally." He opened his eyes, slowly, revealing the coca brown eyes that mesmerized his fans. "I'm sorry, Ally. Forgive me. I know I made so many mistakes, I hurt you, I destroyed your trust, and more faults that I can't name, but I just need you. I don't need you to take me back – even if I want you to – I just want you to acknowledge me, like before. Like before we were dating, as friends. I can't... I just can't live a life without you. You're my everything. I'm sorry."
He felt eyes on him – a special and unique person.
He knew that feeling. It only happened when she was there.
That unexplainable feeling that happened; it drew them together. It was...
He tilted his head back down to the crowd, and immediately, his eyes locked with another pair of eyes.
He spotted her immediately.
She was clad in a long coat, and a hat that covered her hair, bundling it tightly so that no strands were revealed. Her eyes were wide, and he hands were clasped together tightly against her chest. She had her lips pressed together tightly.
He knew immediately that she was covering up, disguising herself, so that he wouldn't recognize her. But he could. He could recognize her anywhere, disguise or no disguise.
Ally.
Ally Dawson.
His heart.
His soul.
She looked startled that he recognized him so easily as that.
She abruptly pushed past the crowds, trying to get through and away from the area she was located, and more importantly, escape from him.
His eyes narrowed. His brain signaled to him that she was trying to leave. His conclusion left a bitter taste in his mouth.
She was trying to close him away – to keep him in the dark, concerning matters about her life, when she could just waltz in his just like that.
No.
He wouldn't let her. He wouldn't let her go without a fight. She couldn't – wouldn't – leave him. He let her slip easily from his fingers before. Not if he had a say in it.
Now, he would not let her go until she received explanations.
He quickly got offstage, pushing the crowds of people – his fans – away, so that he could get closer to her, muttering, 'excuse mes', 'urgents', and 'sorrys,' while doing so (It was obvious that they hadn't realized that Ally was in the crowd, poor disguise or not, or else they would have parted, like the Red Sea, and let him through to her so that they would be able to speak. They were too busy being emotional with his speech and resolution that he just delivered.).
"Ally!" he shouted. She didn't stop, but instead, did the opposite – she slid through the crowd quicker than before. Still, his fans didn't part, and insisted on being the barrier – the wall – that separated him and Ally.
"Stop!" She didn't. He tired to push past the crowds of people without coming off as a jerk, but they kept of clinging, and to letting him trespass. They became a wall between the lovers.
"Ally!" She was slipping from him. She was almost gone.
He had once last chance to make it right with her before she left (left his life). With all the courage his mustered up at the last second, he shouted as loud as he could,
"I love you, Ally Dawson!"
A/N:
Huge thanks to StorieeMakeer123 for supplying me with the song, which fit the story perfectly like puzzle pieces! The song is by Mai Lee, and it's called, 'When Love Was'. I was listening to 'Not a Love Song', full version, too. (If you haven't heard it, you should! Listen carefully! At 1:50, Ross sung, 'I really do love you'. I was legit fangirling when I heard that coming from my speakers at 1:50. OMG! I also heard the new song, 'I Can Get Your Heart Beatin' Like That', from the new episode that will air Sunday, while writing this out, and now I'm in a good mood. ( www . youtube watch ? v = Z1B5Zuh8SMc) and I was legit swooning at the sound of his voice~ and the end!)
**A human body can survive 8-14 days without water depending on the person and how fast sweat, urine, and tears are leaving the body and up to 4 weeks without food depending on conditions like weight, temperature and exertion.
How do you think Ally will react? (You really should listen to these two songs when reading this chapter. It helps with the mood, and listen to 'Not A Love Song' at 1:50 carefully. ( www . youtube watch ? v = DnZIyVH2UJo&feature = related) Get rid of the spaces! :D)
Okay, aside from that (fangirling), we're done. The epilogue will be posted soon, I hope, depending on my free time.
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