Marissa POV:

You're on the stage…your stage, and the room is filled with people, and you're getting that feeling of nervousness you always get as you reach for the microphone. You wonder why you always feel so terrified; it isn't like you've never done this before. It still terrifies you every time, though. You know that when you open your mouth, and start to sing that the feelings will disappear, and nothing will matter except for the music.

You raise the microphone to a better height, sit on that piano bench, and you start to play the melody you wrote to go with the song that's for her. You weren't planning on letting anyone hear it, not when you wrote it, at least, but here you are, and you just can't seem to stop yourself. You invested too much of yourself in this to just let it go, as if you never wrote it.

As you begin to sing, you don't think about anything, and it seems like you're floating. You love that you can share this part of yourself with people, that you can affect them with your words. Then you open your eyes, and they fall on her. For a second, it seems like she's the only person in the room, as your eyes meet, and there are tears making tracks on her cheeks, and you did that to her. Then you snap back to the present, but you don't forget that image of her. She never knew that you saw her in that moment; she was looking away, the pain etched all over her face. You wish, now, that you could have stopped that from happening.

And now you're playing your final chord, and the people here love the song, but you're back to hating it. It's too honest, too raw. You feel exposed when you sing it, and it reminds you of her. It reminds you that she's not yours, even though if you'd asked her, she would have been in a second. She would have done anything for you, but what would you have done for her? Nothing, you answer yourself, and you wish you had been the same as her, felt the same as her.

They don't get that this song is about a girl. If she heard it, maybe she'd connect it to the two of you. But she isn't ever going to hear it, so that's not important. It's always about a girl, you've started to think, because what boy has ever consumed you the way that she does? Maybe, though, it's just her, and it's nothing to do with girls, or boys, or how you feel about anyone but her. You like to think of it that way. That way you don't have to label yourself, the way that she has. You've seen it slowly tear her apart, and maybe it's selfish, but you don't want that for yourself.

The people are gone, and you're just about ready to leave too, when the door slams and she's stood in front of you. It's clear from the expression on her face that she didn't expect you to be here. She wordlessly picks up her jacket from the back of the room, not meeting your eyes, and in a second she's gone. You move to the door, but when you look outside, there's nobody there, and then you start to wonder why you're even looking.

That's when you finally realise that she must have listened to you sing tonight. Why else would her jacket be here? You find it strange that you didn't see her, because even though that to most people, she's just another face in the crowd, to you, she has always been in a spotlight. In a room full of people, she's the one that you find. You wonder, suddenly, how many other times she has stood in this room, and listened to you.

She clearly didn't want to be seen. Her reason, you think, is that she believes you don't want her here. And you haven't ever given her a reason to stop believing that, even though you wish that you did.

Your relationships are always, without fail, absolutely disastrous, and that is because you can't help comparing everyone to what you think you and she would have had. You're clinging to a fantasy of what could have been, and sometimes you hate yourself for it. Other times you want to hate her, but the truth is you just can't. You wonder what the lyrics meant to her today. Did she know? Does she know that you can't stop thinking about her? Half of you hopes she does, and the other half has never felt this panicked. What will you do? All you know is you're sick of lying to yourself and everyone around you.

Your eyes drift to the clock on the wall. A long time has passed, but you've been too distracted to notice. Your mum isn't going to be happy. For once, you don't care. This is way more important, you tell yourself. She is way more important. You've finally admitted to yourself that you have feelings for her, and for a moment, the thought is dizzying. You finally allowed all of those hidden feelings to reach the surface, and you've never been so scared. You know that Summer won't care, if you tell her. She didn't care when it was Alex. She'd be happy, probably. She loves both of you; wants both of you to be happy. But she's over you…. she's over you and it's too late to change a thing.

You're uncertain, though. You've always been this way. You can't tell Summer, you decide, but really, you think she already knows. She was here tonight too, after all; just like every other time you've been on that stage. She knows you better than anyone, and you know you don't need to say a word, because that song said everything…it said that she is your everything.

Alex's POV

Just like you told yourself you wouldn't be, you're here, watching the stage as she adjusts her microphone, and sits down at the piano. You remember teaching her to play, sometimes guiding her hands across the keys, and she never once cared about you touching her then. After you told her how you felt, though, she practically recoiled at any contact between you, almost as if she was afraid of you. That saddened you more than anything else she did during that time that your friendship started to crumble into tiny pieces.

She's reaching for the microphone, and she says that she's going to sing something new today. You don't care what she sings, as long as you get to hear her voice, but when she starts to sing, you're taken by surprise. There's more emotion in her voice than you've ever heard from her; than you ever expected to be inside of her. And as you listen to the words, you realise this is the song you've been waiting for. The one where every single word is for you, and you know, without asking, that this song was written for you.

You don't get beyond the second verse; the words are hurting you too much. You know that they are just going to get worse, and you leave quickly, running from the building as if just standing outside it will make you hurt, and you breathe heavily and you wish that she could have just forgotten about you. Yes, you wanted her to sing for you. No, you didn't want what she offered to you in those lyrics.

I wanted you to take back your words, because I didn't feel the same

Wanted you to say that everything would work out okay

You were in love with me, and I couldn't relate

I told you, and I felt like you weren't hearing it

Didn't you stop, for a second, to think about me?

I can hear your answer in my head, I think about you all the time

Those weren't the words I wanted to hear from you, but from him

You left after that. You don't want to hear about how she would choose you over him any day. You didn't want to hear about how in love with him she had been. You're sitting on a bench, your head in your hands. The moonlight bounces off your watch, and you check the time. You should go home, it's getting late. As you stand up, you realise how cold it has become, and you look around for your jacket, and you are tempted to kick that bench as you realise you left it behind.

The only people there at this time of night should be the staff. At least she won't be there. You walk back there slowly, the streets empty and silent. You open the door, and you let it slam behind you. She turns around and looks at you. You are shocked, but try to hide it, and when you can't take any more of her stare (almost immediately) you avert your eyes, and hurriedly walk over to your jacket, picking it up and making a quick escape.

As you walk around the corner, you hear the door open after you, and you wonder if she's looking for you. Then you dismiss that idea, she would never want to talk to you. Except in her songs, you think, a little bitterly. How can she still do this to you? That's something you've never figured out. You don't know why it had to be her you fell for, you just know that you did, and you fell hard.

And then you hear her voice, calling your name, but you're frozen to this spot. How will you explain the fact that you come to see her sing? You're not supposed to be interested in what she does, not anymore. You taught her piano, and she taught you to dance, and the two things are tangled up with your memories of her, and you prefer your guitar now, and you don't dance anymore. But you can't tell her that. You can't tell her that when you listen to her voice, the only accompaniment her piano, you forget all of that, and she's yours, and you're hers, and you're back in your fantasyland, but you don't care.

So you don't move, you don't move towards her, and you won't let her speak to you. You used to let her talk forever, until she fell asleep talking to you on the phone. You listened to her light breathing, and you let it lull you to sleep, and it was in one of those moments that you realised how much you loved her. You never stopped, and now you can't sleep at night, without her quiet breathing to comfort you.

When you're sure that she's gone, you move from your position leaning against the wall of the club, and you start to walk home. It seems that today is not you day, though, as she steps out in front of you, and the two of you collide violently. You're pushed to the ground, and she lands on top of you, her weight pressing into you. You mutter an apology, dragging yourself to your feet with some difficulty. You hold out a hand to her to help her up without really thinking about what you're doing. She takes it, murmuring thanks. You stand there, just looking at her, for a few long moments, before you shake yourself out of it, and you turn and start to walk away. You feel her hand on your shoulder, but you shrug it off, and keep going. You don't think you could stand hearing more hurtful words from her.