Eep! Sorry for taking so long to update! But I do actually have a good reason this time ^^ Basically, I had so, so much to fit into this song – so it has had to be split up into three chapters. Unless, of course, you want one bloody huge one.

I'll explain more at the end of the chapter, but for now, I'll shut up here and let you read :)

The End Where I Begin [I]

"Well… This wasn't exactly the way I had planned this…"

"Is…?"

"I mean, I had it all planned out and it was going to be by the river at the perfect moment where everything was right – but then it started raining and I couldn't exactly let you stand in the rain getting soaked while-"

"Owen-"

"And now you're all wet anyway and this is hardly romantic – at all, never mind 'enough' – and it completely ruins everything that - it's just I had planned it all and it was so perfect - and really the moment has to be perfect and romantic or otherwise-"

"You're not even making sense now-"

"Do that again."

"What?"

"Laugh."

"Okay, now you're really not making sense. Why do you want me to laugh?"

"It calms me down. It always has, you know that."

"Shut up, charmer."

"Ah, but you love it, Kay."

"Yes… Well… Uh…"

"Well it's hardly a surprise now, is it?"

"Believe me, I'm surprised."

"Really? Well, either way I'd better do this properly so…"

"Oh my gosh…. You're down on one knee and everything…"

"Kay, I've stumbled through life thinking I knew everything there is to know about love. About how things go and what you should feel. I always thought it so one-dimensional, that you can only love somebody in a single way – until I met you.

You taught me how you can love someone in so many ways apart from the obvious. You showed me that, as well as a girlfriend to love romantically, you could be loved as a real friend. Something I never knew could be possible, a trust I had never known.

We met at a time of pain and ever since then you have given all to comfort me. Not only that, but you could make me laugh – on a daily basis. You could inspire me and have given me hope – even when I was so sure there was none. I want to spend the rest of my life repaying you for that, Kay, and to make sure you never feel pain of any sort again – as you have been the reason so much of mine has gone.

You've shown me that I can love you as a girlfriend, a best friend and someone to trust on to no ends. Please, Kay, would you give me the honour of showing me how I can, so easily, love you as a wife? Will you marry me?"

"Wow…"

"Kay?"

"Owen, of course I w-"

"Comfy down there, are you?"

Owen eyes snapped open as he sat up sharply.

"Fuckin' hobo." The teenage laugh faded as his car drove off, whilst the piercing sound of the horn left Owen's ears.

Though now alone again, he cleared his throat and straightened himself up, looking around to check for anyone else nearby as embarrassment crept up his face. He felt like this was a moment of incredible weakness for him, to be here, and therefore wanted nobody to catch him sitting where he was. After everything that he had done, he wanted to appear better, stronger – and sitting in front of this café made him feel like the venerable guy, deep down, he couldn't escape that he was. That guy did not need to be displayed.

But, just like the last time, he could think of nowhere else to go right now. Well, actually, there were hundreds of places to go – but this just seemed the best. The familiarity that it held, together with the fact that if anyone was to go looking for him, they wouldn't think to go here after moving on - and of course the quietness of the place at 10 o'clock at night, made it the perfect spot to do what he had yearned to do for so long now. Think.

No one around to distract him, no phone there to ring incessantly with friends and sellers. Just Owen, his thoughts, and the concrete of the pavement.

He was incredibly grateful for the fact that he had been given a whole month with too many interruptions for him to have the time, or energy, to do so, however. It truly did show him how far his friends would go for his well-being. Okay, 90% of the reason for them taking so much of his time was probably out of worry and/or slight paranoia, but they had good reason to think so. For, if they hadn't kept him so busy, he would have had enough time to really think. And the state his mind was in then probably would have lead to yet another act of desperation.

To an outsider, the hold they kept on Owen may have seemed a little drastic, but in the past two months he had proven he may have needed it. As well as everything he did in the first of the two, the week following it was even worse. For after Demi's news of how Kay felt, Owen had decided that if she could feel nothing – then he was allowed to do so too. Thinking was one of the last options, then, as that was what was causing him to feel so much. So he allowed himself to block all chances of thinking out, instead replacing it with the throbbing headaches of the mornings after.

And yet, he was lucky in the thought that one of these first nights (apparently) involved a very drunk phone call, which had alerted Liam just how well giving him 'personal space' was going. Because, since then, he, James and Demi had done their best to bring Owen back to the real world, finally bringing him out of the bubble that he had trapped himself in.

At first he was extremely reluctant to let them do so, feeling that personal space was exactly what he needed. But they didn't listen and spent a week making sure he had next to none of it. What they did, looking back, was exactly the same as what the alcohol did – but without the destructive affects. By keeping him so busy, they distracted him from the situation, they forced him to think about anything, and everything, else.

Owen sighed and dug a hand into the front jeans pocket, slowly taking out his old wallet.

The weeks that they had given him after that were pretty much the same – with the change of how much Owen wanted to get involved increasing as each day went by. He found out that distracting his mind from the pain did not need to include self-destruction, and embraced the new distractions whole-heartedly. It had been an incredible month of external recovery – bringing him back to Earth and life.

But, as strong as he was now on the outside, they couldn't stop his mind going over everything at night, whilst he lay alone in the darkness of an empty house. With his normal life back on track, he was busy enough to need to sleep every night, but the hour in which he lay in bed – that was when external help and distractions stopped. For an hour every single night he was forced to face exactly the situation he was in, with nothing to distract or turn to. And every emotion felt in this hour kept his mind in darkness and his core lost.

Opening up the wallet carefully, he pulled out the object that proved just so.

The fact that he was here, holding onto the small ring, proved how he just couldn't let her go. And, as he had done every night the past two months, he held it up and watched the light reflect of it.

He just couldn't accept it. Her never actually loving him was simply a thought that didn't fit with the solidity of the ring.

It was right there, in front of him, solid proof that she loved him. That just couldn't compare to the words of Demi. For, no matter how much they haunted his mind, he couldn't grasp the idea.

It's pretty solid proof that she is back with Michael. He couldn't escape the truth of that.

But it just couldn't be because she loved him more than she did Owen. After everything Michael had done to her, after everything Owen had done for her, she couldn't put Michael above him. He wouldn't accept it, because – to him, it didn't make sense.

And most of all, if it were true - if she never actually loved him - then why was he missing her so much? How could there be justice if she was the one who kept his mind reeling every night – without her mind doing the same?

Was that the case? Has she spent every night exactly the same as he had? Has she been lying still, staring up at the ceiling, as the clock moved on?

If so, then was everything that Owen had been doing these past two months right? Was him spending so much time recovering actually the was he should have spent his time?

…What if all this time, when he had begun to feel happiness again, Michael had been causing her pain?

His jaw clenched at the thought. The thought of his body against hers. The thought of everything he had done to her before. The thought of it repeating. Has he just become worse than Michael ever was? Not only driving her away – but letting that man get into her head again?

What if all this time she had been in pain, and he hadn't the decency to help her? To let her know that Michael was not the one to go to when in need.

He'd made a promise, with this ring, that he would spend the rest of his life taking away the pain. Not being the cause. What if the fact that he had this ring was not a sign that her promise had broken – but sign that his had?

But… What if everything that his friends had told him were true?

His eyes shifted focus from the ring to see the buildings across the dark street. To where he saw her all that time ago. To when he put his arm around her, and she was happy. What if every day had been exactly the same? What if they had been living in two completely separate worlds all this time – but Owen just couldn't tell because of the traffic blocking his view?

What if every night that he lay awake – be it in his cold bed or thin sleeping bag – she had been sleeping soundly? Her mind completely at rest. Away from the man that she didn't love – never had – and sleeping next to the one that her heat belonged to.

So, if that were true, would that mean everything he was doing now was completely right? Was moving on and healing, learning to be happy once more, really the right path to take?

His eyes shifted focus back to the small ring.

But… If that were true – then why would it hurt so much?

If this was the right path, then why did stones stab at his feet with every step and twigs tear his skin? Why was there such a yearning to go back? If it was right, then why did he miss her so much?

Why did his heart sink every morning when he woke up to face an empty space next to him? Why was he constantly expecting to return home from work to see her at home, happy to see him? Why did his heart skip a beat every time he saw a woman with the same colour hair, or eyes?

If this was right, then why was he still buying her things he thought she might like – not realising this until he got home and unpacked the shopping? Why did he still hope so strongly that it was her name that flashed up whenever his phone rang? How come he still missed the simple sound of her voice?

Her scent?

Her touch?

With every day that went past, the hole in his heart expanded – fully aware that a vital part was missing. If this was right, why did it hurt so much?

Or was the pain he felt a warning? A warning to go back – that he's on the wrong track and letting her go was the biggest mistake of his life?

He felt like he was at the last fork in the road – the last chance to change his mind. And, although right above him there were signs telling him which turn is which – which would lead to happiness, and which would lead to pain, each was written in a totally different language, neither of which he could read.

He closed his eyes against the whole thing in frustration. Thing was – the fact remained that he couldn't simply show up in front of her, again. He couldn't prove that he had changed, that he knew his mistakes and was determined to never do them again – and keep his promise; because it would only make him appear as a complete hypocrite, the last type of person that Kay wants and deserves. Michael had made sure of that.

But was stepping down and moving on really the right thing to be doing? The correct path to take?

Love is blind, but signposts don't come in Braille. He was forced to trust what he felt to guide him through; but how could he when he couldn't tell if the bricks his hands were pressed upon were a dead end – a sign to go back – or if he were to simply edge on a bit further, he could find an open door?

Kay would know…

The irony of it all. That the voice he had trusted so much for a year to guide him through the dark was gone. The one that he had learned to turn to with these kinds of things was the one that had now gotten him so lost. Sure he loved his friends, who had been through it all with him, but they just seemed so sure that here was only one option. The most painful one to accept as true.

There was also the only reoccurring thought that kept him in this view, the one question that had been circulating around his head every day since Demi had spoken. Because, if it were true, then – honestly – 'what would be the point of it all?'

'All the l-'

"Oh, no, Owen…"

Turning his head, he sprang up to his feet, hurriedly trying his best to pull his act of a man in control together, as he stood to face her. Unable to shove the ring in his pocket quick enough, he clenched it in his fist so as to hide it from her view – feeling like a child caught in attempt to fix something that he had broken, so desperate for nobody to find out about the accident in the first place.

"No, no – I was just… Erm… I just needed to-" He half mumbled, embarrassment fogging up him mind. "How are you?" He finished in desperate attempt to change the subject.

"I'm fine." She replied slowly, worriedly looking him up and down. "But I was sure – you haven't been here for months, I mean. I was sure you have sorted everything out. Are you okay?"

"Course I am! Why wouldn't I be?" He did his best to try and feign confusion, praying she would somehow buy it and walk away.

"It's just, the last time you were here, you-"

"No, no. It's nothing like that. I just…um…"

He watched the waitress' posture drop a little in an inward sigh, as if he could see her heart sinking at the sight of him so flustered after so long. "I won't judge." She said, softly.

He knew that this part was neither convincing nor working. Dropping the act with a sigh, he slipped back into he own character, somewhat dropping his guard as he did so. "Listen, I just… Needed a place to think."

"And you couldn't have done that at home?" Hailey asked, shifting her bag slightly.

Owen fidgeted slightly in his stance. "It becomes very hard to think straight in that place, after a short amount of time." 'Too many memories pinned on the walls and ghosts living there to ever feel alone and uninterrupted.'

"So you decided to come here again? Surely this place is just as bad…"

"It's familiar." Owen shrugged. "Plus I just needed some peace for a while." He dug his free hand into his pocket, shifting slightly as he began to feel extremely stupid for even thinking of coming here.

"I could open up the café, again, if you like. Have some peace without freezing your limbs off."

Owen looked at the waitress, memories of everything she had done for him before flooding his mind. "No, I really don't want to bother you again. You've really done enough. Thank you." He said, giving a small smile as he turned to walk away from the place, feeling an idiot. "It's getting late, anyway, and you've just locked up – it isn't in my right to keep you from going home."

He was just about to cross the road, trying to get away from the spot as quickly as possible, before she called him back suddenly.

"Seriously, I don't-" He turned around to face her again, wanting nothing more than to just go. What made her so eager to do so much for him, anyway?

'Probably thinks you so pathetic you actually need it all, you know.'

"I'll be fine, Hailey." He added hastily, trying to block out his last thought.

"It's just…" She seemed to battle with herself for a moment before continuing softly with: "Please can you come inside for just a second? There's something I think you really need to see."

Confused, he came forwards. "Like what?"

"Well…um…" She paused for a second before, "sorry, this is going to sound really random to you."

"Right…"

"But, when you were here – two months ago, I mean – do you remember that robbery that happened to the shop, just down the road?"

"Yes…" He answered hesitantly as he watched her begin to open the door to the café.

"See, the police asked me to check our CCTV camera footage from a couple of weeks surrounding the robbery, shortly after you left-"

"You're not suggesting I-!" Owen interrupted, stunned by the accusation.

"No! No, I know you wouldn't do that – you're not that kind of crazy."

"Chee, thanks." He replied, but smiling slightly.

"Welcome." She said, causing a warm glow to fall over the pavement as she switched the lights on, making her way in. Reluctant yet curious, Owen had no choice but to follow her in.

"But, anyway – I did." She continued, "And-" she turned to face him, surprising Owen by her sudden nervous expression. "What's actually happened with you and her – since you were here, I mean." She added quickly, after a small pause.

Owen stood there in the cold room as he contemplated what to say. So many nights he had gone over the events in his mind, he would have no trouble practically acting it all out for her – word for word. But the small pain in his palm reminded him how very real it was, how sharp and genuine his emotions were – and, in all truth, it still hurt him now. The sharp edge had been taken off, but it still very much dug into him. Telling her fully would be like holding his hand out to her, showing her the broken object he hadn't finished fixing. And, at the end of the day, he didn't know her nearly as well enough to show her something as personal as that.

"Um…" Owen began, noticing that they were both standing in silence, waiting for him to speak. "Long story short, we're not together – if that's what you mean." He chose to tell her, rubbing his neck slightly with his free hand.

She studied him for a second, looking as if she was regretting more and more her decision to bring him in, with every passing minute. "Okay – I guess that does make it easier…" She said quickly to herself, but loud enough that Owen caught it, confused. "And – erm – well, listen; this isn't going to be easy in any way." She said directly to him with a sigh, her eyes full of pain.

"Right…" He brought his hand down slowly, forcibly being reminded of Demi's words.

"It's just I had to look over some footage from the time you were there, and… Well, I'll go get it for you." She finished, beginning to rummage in her bag for something.

Owen watched her pull out another set of keys and, very hesitantly, turn around to walk behind the sparkling counters. She seemed to have then made up her mind firmly about something, as he watched her now confidently unlock a thin door and step though it, into – what looked like – a dark cupboard, lit only by the light bouncing off the café walls.

Owen moved towards the counters and stood behind a seat opposite to the open walk-in cupboard. He lent onto the counter and placed his hand on the cool countertop, feeling the metal ring slide on the soft surface as he moved his sweaty palm slightly across the polished wood, thinking.

"Here we go." He bumped back to Earth after a moment or so as Hailey walked out of the cupboard, holding a small disk, shining brightly as it reflected the light.

"Listen, Owen…" She began, taking a slow breath as he looked at her with full attention. "…I'm doing this in full belief that – sometimes – the truth is the best thing for a broken heart – even if it's so harsh that it shatters it." She took a deep breath in as Owen stood up straight. "Because at least all lies and misconceptions will leave too – and then you can, truly, begin to heal."

Completely thrown aback by this, Owen could do nothing but stand there in silence, looking straight at her with hand still flat against the countertop – now completely still.

With the silence stretching out, Hailey realised that, as much as she hated it, Owen was clearly not going to say something to this – or he was waiting for her to go on.

"Just… Watch it. And know that I'm only giving you this because I know that some good will come out of it." She said, beginning to hand it to his hand on the counter, which he quickly clenched the ring back into, and took the disk with his free hand.

"About half an hour in. I'm so sorry, Owen."

-----

Closing his eyes briefly, Owen pushed the small eject button again. He had no idea why he was actually doing this, it was bound to be nothing short of awkward, but the pain in Hailey's eyes as she gave him the disk have him a sort of sickening curiosity. Everything, from the moment she had called him back from the curb, told him that this was not going to be something he would enjoy – but something about it all made the disk impossible to ignore.

"I'm doing this in full belief that – sometimes – the truth is the best thing for a broken heart – even if it's so harsh that it shatters it."

He opened his eyes again to see the tiny draw slide and click shut, lifting his head up slightly to watch the screen as it loaded. Crouched on his toes, he kept his hand on the player, ready to remove the disk from it at any point, feeling stupid already for doing this. But, as the familiar street appeared on his TV screen – a view from far up, but so clear it could almost be a window in his living room – his finger moved from the eject button and instead pressed the one that caused time on the dark street to move tenfold.

"About half an hour in…" He thought aloud, watching the small numbers on the top of the screen wiz forwards, the seconds blurring together unnaturally. And, far too quick for his liking, his hand jumped to 'play' button as he almost passed the time aimed for.

Three seconds in and he was already ready to stop the most awkward show he had ever seen in his life.

He was now accustomed to the setting of it - even though this was a very different angle that it was seen at to the one he was used to. He knew the scene that it was at: the patch of pavement now too familiar to him. And the plot was known in less than a heartbeat. It was just bizarre watching himself as the main character.

Bizarre and uncomfortable watching himself, sitting still, back against the wall, his head resting on one of his shoulders. The lamppost just nearby, on the edge of the road, highlighted his sleeping figure, solitary in the empty street – with his sleeping bag flopping over and covering only everything below his hoodie-covered torso. His unshaven jaw told him that this wasn't too far into the time spent on that spot, as it only cast a small shadow on his face under the yellow glow. Moving his eyes to the date on the screen told him that this must have been about the third or fourth day of sitting there.

'Which would make it a day or two after the robbery – and that would mean that this had nothing to do with the incident at all…'

So why on Earth was she showing this to him? She actually thought that he would be interested in watching himself sleep? Some controversial way of reminding him of what he feels for Kay… Or perhaps guilt tripping him…

After a moment or so more of watching this show, he reached the conclusion that she was, in fact, crazy. (That would explain why she wanted to help someone who had chosen to temporarily make himself homeless). He was about to press the button to stop the show – and decide what to say to her next time he saw her, as somehow he knew that directly telling her she was crazy wouldn't exactly be the best approach. He took a final glance at the screen, sighing slightly at the sense of anti-climax, before moving his hand, ready to push eject.

Owen's breath caught as he froze suddenly, the sight in front of him making his heart stop right in its track.

His sleeping figure was no longer alone in the street. At ten fifteen at night, someone walked right into the little bit of lit pavement and into clear view of the camera.

The colour drained from Owen's face as he recognised the illumined girl. The soft yellow glow lit up her figure, the bags in her hand, her hair, her clothes and her face.

He watched her stop right in front of his own sleeping figure, her head turned upwards at the sign of the café. Ironic horror washed over his body as he realised that he had been right all along – perhaps she didn't come back specifically to remember, for the full bags looked like she was simply coming home from shopping… But she had stopped. She had looked up at that café. She was taking a moment to remember.

In the seconds that followed, sick adrenaline rushed through his veins as she stared up at the simple café sign; her face too far away for expression to be caught. One by one, the seconds passed by, as his heart thumped wildly in his ears, before her head moved again. He saw her hands burry inside her pickets as her head began to lower – seeming to slowly take in every part of the café.

He watched her eye line slide down the shining glad of the windows – slowly, slowly, inch by inch – before it levelled and stopped. The time on the screen made it a little too late for the lights inside of the café to be on; so, not much to see, her head didn't linger long at that point. He watched her calm figure move slightly, as he watched her head lower further, down past the glass…past the wood of the sill…past the bricks of the foundation… And stop.

Owen's heart banged louder and louder, trying to jump right out of his chest, his blood rushing through every vein, as her eye line reached ground level.

He watched her body stiffen slightly as her head moved to face his own sleeping figure. He watched her stop still and all aura of calm evaporate in a second as she looked right at him on the ground.

He watched her stand there, completely still, for a full, excruciating minute, before he watched her step forwards.

Only able to hear his heart's deafening banging as it frantically threw itself at his chest, desperate for escape from this moment. He watched her walk forward hesitantly to stop right in front of his sleeping self. He watched her crouch down at the foot of the sleeping bag. He watched her arm slowly extend to place her hand on the fabric, hovering still, just above, for a moment.

He watched it snap back. He watched her lit figure sharply stand up. He watched her remain there, frozen, for a second longer.

And he watched her run.

Right, proper explanation as to why this is in three parts:

I could come up with this whole metaphoric reason for splitting it up into three chapters "because the song is really in three stages of becoming stronger" or some crap like that. But, really, it's because I never know when to shut up with writing, and have ALWAYS had trouble with cutting down xP Personally I think it's much better in three parts, as there is much more emotion now (you'll really know what I mean in the upcoming scene xD) and I think it comes to a good, neat closure :)

So it was either that or end up with one, short, bullet-pointy and "just accept it because I said so" points, with loads of frayed ends xP Not so good.

That's also why it's taken me so long to write. I've basically been writing all three at once so I could post them in good time. The next one will come up either when my WONDERFUL beta has filtered it, or in a week (in case she's insane and filters it really quickly xP).

Till then, thank you so much for reading up to this! And hope you enjoy the rest :D

SPECIAL SPECIAL SPECIAL thanks goes to Aneko24. So much of this chapter is down to her ^^

*shuts up now*

Disclaimer:

I do not own The Script, their album or [sadly] any of their lyrics. I am just another fan that has been inspired.