A/N :Okay, I had the first line in my head, and I just started writing from that. I'm not really sure about how it turned out, I didn't read over it afterwards. If it sucks I apologise. Some of it's written from personal experience, so if it doesn't fit with the characters, that's why. In other words, it's very AU, including the characterisation. In this part, you is Alex, she is Marissa. Let me know if you think I should continue, and do a few more parts. Oh, and I need a better title. Suggestions are very welcome. And I've rambled enough for today...here's the story.

You remember the first time you heard her sing. She whispered the words this one's for you before the lyrics spilled from her mouth. And that was the first time that you truly felt that you were important, special, even. And you've never loved her more than in those moments where the words seem to come directly from her heart, and it seems like they're meant for you.

You remember that moment as clearly as if it was yesterday, and yet you don't remember the day you met her. At least, you pretend you don't, because you know that she doesn't. You know that the first song you heard her sing was the only one meant for you, and that one spoke of pain, and regret. You know, no matter how much you want it to be true, that all of the other words don't belong to you, and they never will.

You were friends once. You wanted more. She didn't. That was the end of it for both of you. She didn't speak to you again, except to say that you hurt her, and the whole time you were thinking what about me? You hated the fact that you threw your friendship away, and for what? That conversation replayed in your head for days afterwards, and even if you didn't talk to her again, you still listened to her sing, fading into the background so that she wouldn't see you there. No matter how much you were hurting, you still couldn't forget how you felt about her.

She told you so many things that day, and you pretended that she hadn't. She told you how she was happy, and then you ruined it. You wanted to cry until you ran out of tears, even if it took you forever. You never meant to hurt her, but you did. You couldn't forget those words for a long time. Now, though, you can't remember exactly what it was she said, only that her words broke you. You weren't prepared for that.

Sometimes, you look at her, and everything is okay again. Then that moment fades, and you're back to being strangers. Sometimes, she smiles at you, and you want to smile back, but your lips won't curve upwards the way they used to. You look away from her, so you don't have to remember anymore. Apparently she's forgotten. When her eyes meet yours, you can't help but want to apologise, even though you don't think you did anything wrong. You know, though, that she wouldn't care. Your words would be irrelevant. It's been too long, and even though you want to hate her now, you can't. You just want your friend back.

People change; it's how things are supposed to be. You've both changed, and you know you're clinging to something that belongs in the past, but you just can't help it. Sometimes, you'd get to school early, and the only person in the room would be her. The silence was unbearable, and you'd both act like the other wasn't there. The fact that it was all your fault kept echoing in your head, and you couldn't block it out. Her friends were your friends, once. Now they look away from you the same way she used to.

She used to take art, and you wished that you could capture her on paper. That was before you realised that even the most beautiful painting couldn't capture a person the way that they should be expressed. Even when she was covered in paint, you used to think that she looked perfect. You were young, naïve. Now you spend all your time thinking about how nobody, not even her, is perfect. You don't love her anymore. Sometimes you try to kid yourself that you never did. Simply infatuation, you tell yourself, because that way it hurts a little less.

You remember the first time you told someone how you felt about her, and it was such a relief. The friend you told remembers that day differently to you, but it doesn't matter. She's always been there for you anyway. She's the only one who is still friends with both of you, but nobody ever mentions that. Your friend doesn't like it when people talk to people she's sat with, and they ignore her. She said that to you recently, and you told her that that's the way all the people you know treat you. Like you just don't exist, and you wonder why, but you don't get any answers.

You fall asleep while listening to music, because you've come to hate silence. It's your weakness, and you hate feeling like you're weak. All the tearful words that you could have said never made it out of your mouth, and you're sick of choking on everything that you want to say. You wrote it all down once, and you asked your friend to give it to her. You still don't know if those words made it to her, but now you hope they didn't. They were angry words that you never really meant. You just wanted her to hurt the way you did. Or maybe it was that you wanted her to take some responsibility for the way you were feeling.

It's been almost five years. You should have moved on by now. You pretend that you have, but there are still moments where it seems as if you've been transported back in time, and you're still the same scared girl you were when you first started to feel that way about her. Now you're scared of everything, and you wonder if it would have been different if it weren't for her.

You've only seen her cry once, and you can't remember why, only that it wasn't you to comfort her. That was a little while after you told her how you felt. You felt awkward then. You remember the chemistry lessons where you and her and all of your friends used to sit together. The teacher was oblivious, and you used to spend the whole time writing notes to one another. At the end of the lesson, someone would shove the pieces of paper in a crack between the edge of the bench and the cupboard. Sometimes you and your friend wonder if all those notes are still there, hidden in that small gap.

There's no way to know. You kept one note once, and her writing was directed at you. She was joking with you. The piece of paper that had been used before that, though, the one that had been stuffed with the other ones, was the one you really wanted to keep. The one where she told you that it didn't matter how you felt, because your friendship meant a lot to her. She told you that, and then she gradually started to pull away from you. By the end of the school year, she didn't speak to you anymore.

You wanted her to scream at you, maybe. At least do something that made it feel like you still mattered. When she eventually decided it was time to say something, you didn't want to hear it. Your friends pressured you into it. You looked at the floor, and let her hurt you with her words, not pausing once to question what she was telling you. That was in springtime, and she didn't speak to you at all during that summer, or the one after.

Now she talks to you occasionally, when she wants to know something. You never talk about you, or her, or how anyone is feeling. It doesn't matter. You don't pick apart your interactions anymore, the way you sometimes used to. You don't care anymore when she walks past you without a word. The first time she did, you were taken by surprise. It hurt more than you expected. Now it's not important.

She had her friends to make her feel better. You did too, but it wasn't enough. You also had that shiny silver, tinged with red where it had been pressed against tiny droplets of blood. You wanted to blame her for that, but the truth was, it was all about you. You hid your arms away, and sometimes your friends would be suspicious. Long sleeves in hot weather were hard to explain away. Sometimes they'd catch sight of the angry red lines on your arms, and you'd try to explain them, when you knew it was impossible. They worried about you. They don't anymore; you're more careful now.

Your parents wanted you to see a doctor. You finally agreed to it a few weeks ago, and now you're on medication. You laugh at your sister when she jokes about you being crazy, because you don't want to break down in front of everyone, like you do when you're alone. And everything keeps coming back to that one girl. Her actions, her words, were when you first started to fall apart, and you never recovered.

Now it seems like everything you do is wrong. You want her to apologize to you every time that you think about saying something to her. She wouldn't even think of it. She's over everything that happened. After all, it was a long time ago. Just because you're still trapped in the past, doesn't mean that other people are trapped there with you. Especially not her. You can't help but think, though, if you just said everything that needed to be said, then everything would be okay.

You used to write songs, for her, about her. None of them ever turned out right. They were too angry, mostly at yourself, and when you tried to sing, your voice cracked on every other note. Now you write songs that are more abstract. Sometimes when you write it's with her in mind, even if you're not sure why. Those are the songs that you're happiest with, because they're the ones that mean something. They're the ones that reflect you as you intended. They're also the ones you never let anyone see, and you feel guilty for writing them, because you know she wouldn't want you to.

You look at yourself from a distance sometimes, and it's like all you'll ever be is that person who was stupid enough to fall for someone they couldn't have. Now you avert your eyes, and pretend that nothing can hurt you anymore. The truth is, you've never been in as much pain as now, when you've finally allowed yourself to think all those things that you couldn't before. You began to have regrets, and you can't shake them off.

You don't have any classes with her anymore. You haven't for a long time. You find it easier that way. She makes you nervous still, even though there's no reason for you to be. You're over her, but not really. You've always been somewhat of a contradiction, but this doesn't make sense even for you. You just want everything back to the way it used to be. When she laughed at your stupid jokes, and you smiled when she did, and she CARED about you.

She's never seen you cry, and she wouldn't have been the one to comfort you. You cried a lot, over her, though, even if you like to think that she didn't affect you that much. Signs of weakness are something you've never been a fan of, with other people, but especially within yourself.

Yesterday, she looked at you, and she smiled and said hello. You didn't say anything back, but offered her a weak smile in response, all the while wondering why she was even saying anything at all. She hasn't noticed you there when she sings, not once in the last few years, and now she talks to you out of nowhere, even if it is only to offer a simple greeting. You're still trying to tell yourself that it doesn't matter, and the words sound false. It will always matter, no matter how hard you try to pretend that it won't. Maybe it's time that you say everything you need to say to her.