A/N: Okay so I'm sure yall could give zero fucks about any bullshit excuses I might even attempt to make right now and I get that. It's been MONTHS since my last update and you, with all your kind reviews and loyal reading, don't deserve to be abandoned like that. All I can say is that I wrote half of this chapter and then had to put all my focus in other non-story, life-related things for so long that I've had writer's block ever since. None of the second half is coming out how I want it. Yall said before that it was okay if it took me a while to update as long as the quality remained but I know this is definitely not the kind of wait you had in mind and for that I'm sorry. I've decided to break the last chapter up into 2 parts because I'm happy with the first and I want to atleast give you SOMETHING. I don't know if it makes up for anything but in the past I've always waited until I was completely done writing something before posting it and, if I do post anymore stories, that's what I'll be doing in the future just to avoid any unexpected hiatuses. To ArtistRenegade21 believe it or not I actually imagined the same thing about Austin's pancake tattoo being made to look like dripping syrup at first but then I thought since he was drunk off his ass he probably wasn't being all that still and the tattoo artist decided to go with something a little simpler for quality's sake. To jacksonchase-dun ummmm what the fuck literal tears? Do you know that you just made my whole year? Thank you so much. To Rainbow you are always so astute and I love it. I also felt like the whole Mimi ignoring the beating thing was not very realistic. I was trying to spin it in a different way but then nothing was coming out right and I was worried I was taking too long to update so I just went with it. But you're absolutely right. I tried to kind of address it in this chapter but it might end up being something I'm going to have to always be a little disappointed about. But on a happier note I ADORE that you review every chapter and I hope the long wait won't deter you from continuing to do so. The fact that you know people who have been in Austin and Ally's tragic situations and feel that I am doing the emotions justice has made me so happy and kept me fighting through the writer's block. Also I'm ecstatic you're listening to "From Eden" on repeat and we're like bff's now no question. To Hope I'm not sure if I'll write another story but if an idea strikes me I just might. I never thought about doing a Raura just because they're actual real people and I feel super weird about it but, hey, if the inspiration strikes who knows what could happen. To Louder4Life "beautiful but sad and amazing" is already one of my favorite things. To Luckystarz910 so far Ally has been more important to Austin than the band. But let's not forget which of his infatuations came first. *eyebrow wiggle*. To kristenxoxo81 HERE YOU GO LADY!
Alright sorry for making this author's note as long as a fucking chapter. I've included a few lyrics to another Hozier song called "Work Song" which happens to be my all time favorite. It's definitely worth listening to on repeat for the rest of your life. As always I love your honest feedback, good or bad.
"I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door." (Part 1)
Austin was tough. He was a self-reliant 23 year old unafraid to go from nice guy to fucking asshole if you looked at him too long. His sun-tanned skin was thick and tattooed, roughened from years of taking punches and raising himself. Since the age of 11 he'd been too busy surviving to think about trivial things like love or girlfriends. His first kiss was at 16 and he relinquished his virginity just minutes after that. Both of these milestones, conquered years before even getting his first girlfriend. And no relationship seemed to last longer than a few months once the lucky lady discovered that his heart wasn't truly in it. Love was soft. Love didn't protect him from his father's fury and it certainly didn't keep him alive as he hitchhiked across the Carolinas. Sure he was completely infatuated with music and he treated his guitar like a soul mate, but that was the extent of his experience with matters of the heart. Austin Moon had never really considered love an option or even a priority before and he really wasn't about to then. All he knew was that he liked this brunette and he wanted this brunette. He'd had enough shitty moments in his life to know that you should never overthink the good ones. And the time he spent walking hand in hand up the beach with Ally, who was undoubtedly unlike any other, with their feet submerged in cold ocean water, their skin bathed in moonlight, and their lips still numb with intensely pleasurable kisses, was more amazing than expected. Even with his imminent departure looming just hours away, and even when she looked up at him with the 'you poor thing' eyes and softly said "I can't believe Mimi just let your dad treat you like that", it was still an awesome moment because as she spoke she leaned gently into him and her little toe brushed his foot in the mud. Austin licked his lips and gathered his thoughts as best as he could.
"I've been angry with my mom for a long time." He began, "I mean shit I'm still pissed at her. But she…I mean-...okay so the time I spent wandering up the east coast, I saw a lot of fucked up shit Ally. I was a homeless runaway without a pot to piss in. I wasn't exactly hanging out with the rich kids you know what I mean? I slummed the gutters from South Carolina to Virginia and I encountered people in every kind of dysfunctional relationship, every kind of shitty situation you can imagine."
The ice had begun to melt in the bag strapped to his right hand and freezing droplets trailed down the blonde's fingers, soaking into the sneakers that dangled in his grasp. He continued.
"I've never been in love but-"
"Wow really? Never?" she kicked her foot up gently, sending a mild spray to wet their shins.
He just shrugged dismissively, "Nah I'm too fucked up for that shit I think."
She didn't respond but simply squeezed his hand. And somehow that spoke volumes.
"But um I've seen other people in love or even people in like that just kind of sacrifice themselves to the relationship. They settle for someone because they don't think they can find better or they think that all this physical and verbal abuse is just part of what a relationship is all about because that's what they've always known. I've met people who have become so used to being treated like shit that they truly believe they're completely helpless in the situation."
He lapsed into another involuntary silence as the bleakest memories clouded his conscious mind. A larger wave rolled in, nearly cresting Ally's kneecaps and wetting Austin mid-shin. He stared down because watching the water swirl in the wake of their bare legs somehow made his next sentence easier to say.
"When I was about to kill myself…"
He spoke carefully as those specific words left him for the very first time. In the past it was always that he tried to slit his wrists or that he tried to end it all. Never 'kill myself', though that was really what it all boiled down to. There was something about all the intangible elements surrounding him, the constant motion of the sea and the sweet understanding from Miss Ally Dawson, somehow all of that took the damning words from him and made them light enough to fly away. It felt incredible. Maybe even better than the white powder frequently snowing through his lungs.
"…when I tried to kill myself…" he began again, tasting the words and feeling Ally's grip tighten around his hand, "I never knew that helplessness could feel so…..so…..…." Austin paused then rapidly switched gears, "Okay say Flesh & Bone was in a Battle of the Bands contest or something and we were up against Pink Floyd, AC/DC, and…shit I don't know Led Zeppelin, you know some classic rock LEGENDS, then I'd say that we were helpless, that we didn't have a shot in hell and there was nothing we could do to change that, no matter how awesome our set was. And for the first 12 years of my life I'd always thought that that was what helplessness was, no chance, no point in trying, having absolutely no ability within yourself to change things for the better, and it's ALL of that sure but when I got older and things got bad I realized that it's also so much more…more.…it's…..not 'deeper'….but it is deeper…"
"Profound?" The musical brunette offered in a voice small with terrified understanding.
"Profound." He repeated, glancing over and meeting eyes that held a dying flame, "It can be so crazy fucking profound that it's soul crushing. I know it is because I felt it happen. I felt my lights go out inside. I used to think helplessness was just a speedbump or a strait-jacket but it's not. It's a pit. Sometimes it's shallow and you lose the Battle of the Bands but sometimes it's miles deep-"
"Fathoms deep." She murmured sadly.
"Fucking fathoms deep." Austin agreed, sighing incredulously, "Sometimes it's nearly bottomless and then it stops being about just winning or losing. It's about accepting that nothing will ever change. It's about giving up Ally. You give up on everything, everything. That one thing that has always been precious to you, you give up on it because even that's not enough anymore. Not anymore, because just cherishing the thing doesn't make life any less miserable."
Austin stopped walking. Ally did the same. They stood there in the murky tide, his eyes glued again to the indistinguishable horizon, hers closed tight.
"It's about giving up completely. Ally," his voice was so very soft, just barely overcoming the sound of rushing water, "It's about shutting your eyes and pretending you're somewhere else until he finishes. It's about running away as soon as you can, barefoot because your sandals came off in the struggle. It's about holding your breath until you pass out in the restaurant bathroom and never telling anyone that you touched the very rock bottom of that pit one night."
Her grip was growing impossibly tight on his hand and he wondered if she could possibly pop her stitches. But then she spoke in a voice that was steady and even softer than his had been.
"It's about holding the blade to your wrist even though you can't find a pulse." she said because she always seemed to understand him so perfectly, "It's about staring at your guitar, the thing you love, in the mirror's reflection…and pressing the razor even harder."
He stared at her with their hands still entwined and her eyes still closed, "Sometimes you're forced into that pit by an asshole named Dallas and sometimes you're slowly dragged down into it by some asshole named Mike. I think that's what happened to Mimi. To me AND Mimi actually, but it happened to her before I was even born. And it happened to her a lot slower because she was falling in love with him at the same time. She never stood up to him about anything and after years of being his fucking doormat even her own son wasn't precious enough. She felt helpless, she truly believed she was helpless."
Ally shook her head slowly as her eyes opened, "I just-…I can't imagine you'll ever need your mother more than you did then. And she abandoned you."
He nodded, "Yeah but-"
"I mean could you EVER forgive her for something like that?"
And the words 'No. Never.' immediately came to his mind because he had been certain from the age of 13 that he could never, WOULD never pardon his mom's negligence. But that was before Austin had grieved over the very man who'd made his life a living hell, before he realized that the love for a parent is something hardwired and nearly untouchable. So, instead of saying never, the blonde looked off in thought for a moment, then came back to her piercing brown eyes.
"Maybe." He admitted a little unsurely.
And Ally, always the understanding one, didn't question him about it. Weary from the backbreaking weight of their conversation, she offered him a smile instead that was tiny in size but bursting with sunshine.
"Well for the record I'm actually kind of glad you didn't find your pulse that day. I'm glad you didn't go through with it."
And this time the deep magenta blush rushing to his cheeks penetrated the darkness but he was far too distracted by his irregular heartbeat to turn away in time. She grinned up at him.
"You're blushing."
"Shut up Dawson."
And, thoroughly embarrassed, Austin did the first thing he could think of, picking Ally up and slinging her over his shoulder as she squealed in fear and surprise.
"AUSTIN!"
"You brought this on yourself." He teased and resumed sloshing through the surf.
"Oh my God this is so embarrassing. Put me down!"
"No."
"Austin!"
"Ally!"
"Uuuggh!" she wriggled vigorously but to no avail, "UUGGH! I want you to put me down now!"
He turned and started to make his way up the sand, "Tough shit."
"AUSTIN!"
The blonde simply laughed in response. Flexing his right arm, his grip tightened around the backs of her thighs. Cold water dripped from the makeshift ice pack still tied to his hand and left dark grey polka-dots on her leggings.
"Austin I'm serious put me down."
"Relax Dawson," He wavered slightly, struggling to maintain balance on the soft sand and keep a frustrated Ally up in the air, "Don't madams like being carried everywh-"
"FUCKING PUT ME DOWN!"
"Holy shit." he murmured as the brunette's sudden screaming nearly scared him half to death. Austin clumsily leaned over and lowered her to the sandy ground, dropping one of his sneakers in the process.
"Take it easy Ally I was just screwing aroun- OW WHAT THE FUCK!?"
The blonde just barely had time to bend down and grab his shoe when a floral Birkenstock connected with the side of his head, crushing his ear and filling it with a brief but resounding ring.
"Next time when I tell you to put me down!" She swung both of her sandals at him, hitting his arms and hands as he tried to shield himself, "You PUT ME DOWN!"
"AH shit! Fuck Ally stop! STOP what the fuck is your problem!"
She lowered her shoes and looked him right in the eyes, hers positively ablaze with all the fury and the strength she wished she'd had months ago.
"YOU DON'T GET TO DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO ME!" She shouted, her voice already growing impossibly ragged and hoarse. A lump lodged itself in her throat but she screamed past it because she knew if she stopped that tears would rush from her eyes forever, "When I tell you to do something and it concerns MY body then you do it!"
"Ally calm your fucking tits alright!" Austin's brow furrowed, "I wasn't even doing anything!"
"Shut the fuck up!" She shouted with whatever voice she had left, "Fuck you! I'm in control of what happens to me okay! Me! Not you!"
"Okay fine whatever you're in control just don't fucking hit me anymore!" he conceded in sheer annoyance.
And again her mood changed. He watched as something snuffed out the flames in her pupils. It was as if she was suddenly remembering something, or like she was just returning from a trip she didn't intend to take. Ally came rapidly back to the reality of dark water and cool sand, her sad gaze surveying Austin like it was the very first time. Then she squeezed her eyes shut tight, sighing in what was unmistakably defeat.
"Just please take me home Austin."
There was silence between them that not even a 24 hour classic rock radio station could penetrate. It was no longer the oddly comfortable quiet that they'd cultivated in one magical weekend. Things were awkward. Discomfort pushed against every corner of Roxy's interior because that old Honda had become more than just a car for them. Roxanne had brought Austin to Miami where Ally was waiting, and slowly imploding, in her attic. And it was in Roxanne where Austin introduced the weary brunette to a world of snow and euphoria. Sure Roxy T. Honda didn't look like much on the outside, but inside she was important enough for it to be palpable as they did 60 mph in a 45. Ally felt it. Austin felt it. And he hated that even in such a significant space, they were no longer comfortable with one another.
Austin was annoyed. He had no real right to be, he didn't WANT to be, but he was just the same. Ally needed someone who would be patient with her and the blonde understood that better than anybody, really he did. He'd already afforded her more patience than his body was even physically capable of possessing, but being flung back and forth between her good side and her bad side for days had worn it completely thin. Austin snuck a quick glance at Ally and was only met with a ponytail of tired curls. She stared out of the window.
"Are you pissed at me or something?" His fingers grasped the volume knob and twisted until "Hotel California" faded into nothing. Another brief peek and he got an eyeful of her brown and blonde hair again.
"No." she said in a voice that was flat and empty and practically screaming yes.
"You sure? Because it kinda seems like you are."
"I…just want to be alone."
He rolled his eyes because seriously?
"Well have no fear your heiness, we're almost at your house so you only have to tolerate my presence for 5 more minutes."
And when his fingers cranked the knob back in the other direction, Jimi Hendrix came blasting out with riffs and chord changes so fast and loud that they killed any chance of further conversation. It was a childish thing to do and he knew it but that knowledge did nothing to loosen his 2 handed grip on the wheel. He could handle a little yelling, a little anger on her part. Hell, he thought it was kinda hot actually. But he couldn't handle being shoved back at arm's length after she'd kissed him tenderly and let him find something like home in her eyes. He knew that Ally was so mentally fragile that she shattered multiple times in a day. He also knew that he was being an asshole at the moment. But Austin was by no means the picture of well-adjusted, emotionally stable perfection himself. And every soft press of Ally Dawson's lips had drug him further and further into her depths. He couldn't tolerate angry Ally as much because he'd experienced the fucking amazing way normal, sweet Ally felt.
He craved the magic they'd had at the beach not 10 minutes ago but he was also stubborn. So when Roxy pulled to a slightly squeaky stop in front of the Dawson residence, the only person speaking was Ozzy Osbourne, leading the rest of Black Sabbath into complete Paranoia. He had barely put the car in park before Ally was pulling the lock up and swinging her door open. That was it. No goodnight, no see you later, nothing to acknowledge the way they'd grown so much closer in the span of 2 hours. Austin stared after her as she ascended the driveway, ponytail swinging. Her leggings were still rolled up to her knees and each determined and desperate step sent dried sand crumbling from her calves to her Birkenstocks. She passed the silver Accord and the red VW Beetle but hesitated when she got to the front door, fingers grasping the knob but not moving. He waited, watching intently from Roxy's front seat. Ally sighed again, he could tell by the way her shoulders rose then fell. And as they dipped back down, the 20 year old opened the door and disappeared inside. The gold mail slot glinted copper in the streetlight as she barred herself against the outside world.
"Whatever Dawson." Austin mumbled to the rock and roll still blaring around him. He clenched his jaw and practically threw Roxanne in drive, attempting to ignore the way it all kind of stung. His back molars ground together as he hit a quick u-turn and cruised back to the 1 story home of his childhood. Christ that girl was going to give him a headache.
When he pulled into the driveway Austin was surprised to see that the trash can had been wheeled down to the curb and the kitchen light was on. He cut Roxy off but not before checking the gas. She was at about a quarter of a tank and he briefly wondered if he could at least make it over the Georgia border where fuel was much cheaper.
Austin climbed out of his car with the infamous magazine curled in his hand. Things hadn't exactly gone the way he wanted that night, at least not at the end anyway. It made him feel better to blame Rihanna and those 'fuck me' eyes of hers instead of his own idiotic behavior. Besides that, he was supremely uncomfortable with the thought of driving 9 hours with a coke-dusted Rolling Stone sitting in his glove compartment. The island-born singer gave him one last sultry look before he tossed her in the trash can along with the almost fully melted bag of ice that had kept his right hand numb.
For a moment as he opened the front door he thought that maybe the porch light was broken and illuminating the kitchen was Mimi's way of 'leaving the light on for him' before she went to bed. But he quickly abandoned that idea at the sound of a spoon clinking in a porcelain mug.
His mom was sitting at the kitchen table in the middle of a careful sip from her cup when Austin appeared in the entranceway. Her eyes rose slowly to meet him.
"Surprised to see you up this late." he casually remarked on his way to the fridge.
"I couldn't sleep anymore."
He grabbed one of Mike's last 2 cans of PBR and cracked it open. She watched him lean against the counter and take a big gulp.
"Where've you been?" the exhausted woman asked, cradling her chin in her hand.
He shrugged, "I couldn't sleep either. Went for a drive."
She paused, her eyes drifting down to the floor, her entire countenance already becoming submissive in preparation for her next question. Austin waited for it.
"Were you out….buying drugs?" she practically buried her gaze in the tea that steamed before her.
The beer can froze halfway to his lips and he laughed.
"Uh no Mimi I actually have plenty of drugs already so I don't need to buy any more right now."
He took another much needed sip and waited for his mom to fuss at him but she didn't. She was quiet as her hand migrated from chin to forehead and her eyes closed. As a rebellious youth, he'd pushed Mimi to that very same position countless times. And seeing her there just then, practically radiating exasperation like sunrays, made him feel like an unwanted little burden again. Austin hated that. He really wasn't in the mood for wherever their little exchange was going. So with another refreshing swig of beer, he began to make his way out of the kitchen but stopped at the threshold.
"Hey um can I borrow a couple bucks for gas? It's crazy expensive down here and I don't think I have enough to make it to Geor-."
"I don't have any cash Austin."
"Mimi you always have cash." He countered with a chuckle. And that was true. When the rest of the world had moved on to credit cards and debit cards, she kept a good old-fashioned death grip on her dollar bills and checkbooks.
"Yeah well..." she was still not looking at him and her hand had begun to massage her temple firmly, "The store hasn't been doing so great lately and-"
"The store hasn't been doing so great lately?" he frowned in confusion, letting his eyes survey the kitchen before swinging his arm out in a wide gesture, "All these new stainless steel appliances and fresh paintjobs and you're telling me the store isn't doing so great?"
She was quiet.
"I saw the boxes for the microwave and coffee maker in the trash just 5 minutes ago for fuck's sake."
"Austin I'm not going to give you money to spend on drugs!" she finally looked him in the eye, her face full of concern, "I am your mother and-"
"I'm not buying fucking drugs alright!" he was losing his temper. Ally's wrath was one he could oddly handle silently but having his own mother make him out to be some kind of junkie stoked the already untamed flames inside of him. He couldn't help but to erupt.
"I came here, I came to Mike's funeral for YOU mom!" he pointed at her though he wasn't really sure how truthful that was anymore, "I missed out on some of the most important shows of my life to come to this fucking city that I hate for a guy that I don't even fucking like! I did that for YOU! Because you cried on the phone and I'm such a pussy that I couldn't say no." Here Austin turned away, attempting to collect himself in the span of one rough tousling of his own hair. It didn't work because almost immediately he was pressing the palm of his free hand to the edge of the table and staring Mimi down, "The people at the music festival dock your pay if you don't show up did you know that? I've lost thousands of dollars just being here. All I'm asking for is 30 bucks for some gas and you sit here in this brand new kitchen like you can't spare a dime. You OWE me this Mimi-"
"I don't owe you anything Austin." She spoke firmly as her own anger momentarily broke through her timidity, "YOU'RE the one who decided you didn't need your parents anymore."
"Can you fucking blame me!?" he threw his arms out in disbelief, "Can you honestly FUCKING blame me?! I had a dad who beat the shit out of me and a mom who didn't give a damn about it!"
"That is not true!"
"LIKE HELL IT'S NOT TRUE!" Austin roared, hurling the PBR can in the first direction his arm chose. It smacked against the fridge with frightening speed, splattering beer against the side and puddling quickly on the floor. "HOW THE FUCK DO YOU EVEN LIVE WITH YOURSELF HUH!? So I'm a fucking liar is that it!?"
She was screaming back at him but he yelled over every piece of bullshit flying out of her mouth.
"FACE IT MIMI YOU WERE AND STILL ARE A SHITTY MOM! YOU HAD ONE FUCKING JOB! PROTECT YOUR FUCKING SON AND YOU IDN'T EVEN TRY!"
"STOP IT AUSTIN!"
"You know what fuck it! I haven't needed shit from you for 12 years and NOW YOU CAN'T EVEN SPARE YOUR SON 30 FUCKING DOLLARS! 30 fucking dollars!?" He sneered, looking at her with absolute disgust, "Like you're so goddamn broke. Isn't Mike's life insurance policy about to kick in-"
"YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Mimi was rapidly on her feet, the chair scraping loudly against the linoleum and ultimately tipping backwards with a clatter. She was no longer the meek woman trying feebly to defend herself, but an enraged and grieving widow trying to protect her late husband. "SHUT YOUR MOUTH! I HATE the way you speak about him I HATE IT!" her fist slammed the table and it shuddered, "You WILL show your father some respect we just buried him today for Christ's sake what is wrong with you!?"
The guitarist didn't even flinch though. Instead he matched Mimi's icy blue stare, piercing her with brown eyes that had unexpectedly begun to sting with years of unshed tears. Austin stood there, unmoving, looking as deeply into his mother's soul as he possibly could, searching for something that he'd been searching more than a decade for. And when, once again, he didn't find it, the broken blonde had to look away because he'd stupidly gotten his hopes up for just a few seconds. He took a deep breath as his eyes studied the formica table top. It blurred. His brow was so tightly knit that a headache began to blossom in the very center of his forehead. Austin shoved his hands in his pockets and released a bark of heartbreaking laughter.
"Well it's good to see that you actually are capable of defending someone." And he hated, hated, the way his voice came out dripping with the very sorrow he was trying so hard to smother.
"Austin Monica Moon you get back here!" Mimi shouted as her son walked out of the kitchen. But she had begun to cry and her words lost all of their gusto.
"Nevermind about the gas money." he mumbled over his shoulder.
"Austin!" she screamed with the desperation of a dying woman.
He slammed his bedroom door close in response and was immediately filled with self-disgust. One weekend in Miami and he was already reduced to the sniveling child he'd once been. There he was, pressing his forehead to the wood of his bedroom door, praying for relief as his body trembled with the overwhelming need to get away. Austin was 12 years old all over again and he wanted to just rip his skin off in ragged shreds. He couldn't even look at himself in the mirror as he undressed in the bathroom. Stepping in the dry tub, a sob suddenly gripped his ribcage and attempted to free itself. In the past he would always try to wait until he got in the shower to cry because it was so much easier to pretend that he wasn't. But Austin refused to succumb to such a sensation. He was too strong for that shit. His back molars ground tightly together as he rode out the lump growing large and painful in his throat. Naked and nearly falling apart, Austin turned the handle to its hottest setting. The water came shooting out in an icy spray and he bit his bottom lip hard enough to almost draw blood.
God, he was so tired of being cold.
He waited for the heat and when it finally came, his mind immediately drifted to Ally because she warmed something in him that the hot shower still couldn't reach. He stood like a statue under steaming rivulets and recalled the life-changing hours spent kicking up sand and sea with a mysterious brunette. They'd broken boundaries out there at the edge of the ocean and then he'd tried to be funny and tarnished it all. Austin scrubbed himself clean, attempting to remove the childish feelings that still clung and wash away his sour regrets. Still, even as he stepped out of the shower and toweled off, the thought of completely fucking things up with Ally forever followed. The problem was that his tasks became too monotonous. Pulling on a pair of briefs then lazily packing up all of his shit didn't require any mental power on Austin's part. Free to do as it pleased, his brain explored Alison Dawson as if she was a newly discovered territory.
He shoved his earbuds in and cranked up the volume on his iPhone, trying to drown out thoughts of her with raw rock and roll. She was mad at him, he'd dealt with enough females in his life to understand that. And the flatness in her voice, as if she was truly finished with him…
The blonde stuffed Gavin's rumpled suit into his duffle bag and tried to actively steer his mind to something, ANYTHING, else. He'd already spent so much time putting Ally first that it was a miracle his bandmates hadn't kicked him out of the group completely. He needed to focus on music, on performing. The few shows that Austin would be present for would have to be flawlessly badass to make up for Tucker's mediocre job so far. He quickly ran through Flesh & Bone's established set list in his head while zipping up his suitcase and setting alarms on his cell for 8:15, 8:20, and 8:30 AM. Then, when the first few notes of Hozier's "Work Song" played through his earbuds, Austin sat on the edge of his bed and stared down at his hands. After playing Flesh & Bone's entire music history earlier in the day, this deep aching had settled into his knuckles. It was a familiar pain that followed whenever he strummed for a prolonged period of time. And though he'd experienced it countless times before, there was always a fraction of a moment in which Austin would gently flex his fingers and seriously worry that they would never stop hurting. It only ever lasted for a few seconds, the worrying, but each and every time it was like an ice cold bolt of lightning striking his spine, as if he truly believed the agony would be endless. But then he'd just continue flexing his fingers, wincing as the pain eased slower than drying paint. As he sat there in his boxers, staring at his hands, he felt no discomfort. The ache had subsided just like it always did. He longed for its return though because they really should have been hurting. They should have been loosely gripping a steering wheel and bathed in southern sunlight for 9 hours straight as he drove to the musical opportunity of a lifetime. They should have been clutching a guitar and playing the shit out of it until he and his friends stood on stage awash in the respect of their fellow rock and rollers. His hands curled softly into fists, then opened. It was 2:36 AM. If everything went according to plan, by that time the next day, he'd be wasted out of his mind with the guys, celebrating their first OHA show as the real Flesh & Bone. Finally he'd be back where he should've always been, making music, creating music, submerging himself in MUSIC.
When my time comes around…Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth…No grave can hold my body down…I'll crawl home to her…
Hozier crooned in his ear as Austin shuffled to the other side of the room and flipped off the lights. He navigated the darkness slowly, phone in hand, music still playing. He crawled under the covers and laid flat and straight like a corpse.
I was burnin up a fever…I didn't care much how long I lived…But I swear I thought I dreamed her…She never asked me once about the wrong I did…
Austin knew it was time to leave. For a little while Ally had made Miami bearable, she'd made the sky somehow bluer. And then he'd acted like an asshole and ruined it. He'd stayed too long. Nothing good could come from this place that had already brought him so much misery. It was time to go. He stared up at the smooth, uninterrupted blackness and waited for Hozier to finish. Then, still reeling somewhat from the most emotional Saturday he'd ever experienced, the blonde Virginian plugged his charger into his phone, set his earbuds aside, and waited patiently as sleep eluded his racing mind for another 2 hours. It was nearly 4:30 before he stumbled clumsily into a deep slumber.
He was one of the few people in the world who actually enjoyed waking up to blinding sunlight so he'd left the curtains drawn. Maybe it was because he would be heading to OHA soon or maybe it was his Floridian nature, but once that famously bright subtropical sunshine came crashing through his window and pouring over his face it didn't matter that Austin had only gotten about 4 hours of sleep. He awoke exactly 5 minutes before his first alarm was set to go off with something like happiness blooming in his chest. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and disabled the wake up calls. Then, maybe just to truly assure himself that he was leaving Miami, he sent a text in the band's group message:
'Hitting the road in a few'
He moved with his body on autopilot again: popping a few extra-strength Tylenol for his aching mouth, brushing his teeth, taking a piss, and getting dressed. His mind wandered once more. First trying to remember which gas station in the city was usually cheapest, then recalling the name of the hotel that the festival folks had put them all up in. He went through a quick little mental checklist to make sure he hadn't forgotten to pack anything. And when all of that responsible adult shit was dealt with, his brain, all young and hungry for something soft, made a beeline for Ally. With the sunrise, the annoyance he'd felt last night had waned into a ghost of a thing. It was stupid of him to be upset. Of course the girl who was sexually assaulted out of fucking nowhere wasn't a fan of guys who didn't take no for an answer. What right did he have to deny her her fury? Her need to guard what little of herself was still left?
In three days they had cultivated something between them that was special and intense. And now it seemed it was being left to wither away. Drawing close and kissing passionately only to have it all end in wordless tension.
Austin sent an individual text to Dez requesting confirmation on the hotel details before slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. It all felt so very familiar as he grasped the door knob. Childhood memories, mostly painful, surrounded him on all sides, tainted his Eric Clapton posters and his Zaliens bedsheets. Stepping out into the hallway for what he mentally vowed would be the absolute last time, Austin noticed that Mimi's door was still closed. Gratitude and relief flooded him instantly. The entire weekend had been, predictably, disastrous. And the relationship between him and his mother was currently murkier than it had ever been. She was still sickeningly loyal to Mike and he was still extraordinarily bitter. Walking down the hall, he rolled his suitcase as slowly and as quietly as he could on the wooden flooring. It was easier to just let her sleep, to just leave without warning like he did all those years ago. He contemplated stopping in the kitchen and heating up another chunk of casserole for breakfast, but decided against it. The ultimate goal at the moment was to avoid Mimi and her inevitably tearful goodbye. He was leaving his childhood home yet again. But this time Ally's words came to him just as he carefully opened the front door. She'd asked him if he could ever forgive his mom. Austin recalled saying 'Maybe'. He remembered sincerely thinking about it, considering the unconditional love he held for that woman and how it persisted even through all the disdain. Yes he'd said maybe. But that didn't stop Austin from crossing the threshold and closing the door behind him because 'maybe' would not be that day.
The weather was a little cool that early morning, but already bright. Roxanne sat there waiting for him, ready to take him where he needed to be. He popped the trunk, tossing his bags inside just as his phone chimed with a new text. It was Dez with the hotel address and room number. Austin typed it into his cell's GPS before climbing into the driver's seat. And as he settled in, plugging up the aux cord and putting on his black shades, Austin felt a sudden nervous tingle ghost lightly through his viscera because Atlanta, Georgia would be his final destination, but it wouldn't be his first.
It was like deja-vu all over again as he drove down that residential street. Except this time, his eyes didn't need to search for a specific red because he knew exactly where it was. He cruised to a smooth stop at the curb, Roxy taking the same spot she had just hours ago. The Dawson's silver Honda Accord was gone but the Beetle, thank God, was there. And suddenly, too his chagrin, so were the butterflies in his stomach. Austin checked the time. 9:04. He honked the horn twice, hoping something would happen.
He could hardly believe the fluttering of his heart as, seconds later, the white curtain hanging over that cute little round attic window pulled up just slightly then quickly fell back into place. She'd seen him. And Austin dreaded the possibility of her remaining inside despite that. He stayed in the car, Roxy idling around him like she always did, ready to make a run for it whenever he was. But then that navy blue door opened and those gold fixings glinted and he had to work hard not to scramble from the front seat in a fit of desperation. He put some tension in his limbs to slow them down, opening the door as casually as he could and emerging with what he hoped was an air of nonchalance. But even closing Roxy's door ended in a nervous accidental slam because Ally Dawson was coming down the driveway.
She was wearing glasses. That was the first thing he noticed. They were big, almost hipster-sized, with tortoise-shell frames. She was in a pair of red sweatpants, a white crop top, and a light grey cardigan. His eyes trailed down from her large spectacles to her pink lips then descended further. There on her shirt was a picture of Edgar Allan Poe and the words "Just a Poe boy from a Poe family". He scanned over Ally's smooth stomach and the sight of her very visible bellybutton unsettled him in a good way. Past the red sweats and down to her minty green toenails, he recognized the same floral Birkenstocks fitting snuggly on her feet. He took it all in as he rounded the front of his car and tried to control the anxiety within him. They approached each other carefully, his black Converses scraping the pavement and his fingers scraping his scalp, tugging his blonde hair.
She chewed her bottom lip gently, only becoming aware of her hammering heartbeat as they finally stopped and stood in front of one another. There was a weighted silence just waiting to be filled. Her hair was up in a messy bun and he could see the butt of a pen sticking out of it. She looked tired, like she hadn't slept at all but her beauty was still so powerful. He smiled because he couldn't really help it. She was nerdy and pretty and he liked that.
"Good morning Dawson." He said, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and regarding her through his shades. She realized then that his smile was completely contagious.
"Actually," she tilted her head to the side, "it's 'madam Ally'."
His eyebrows shot up in amusement, "Well pardon the fuck out of me your heiness."
She giggled. Then they were quiet, the comfortable kind of quiet.
"I didn't think you'd come." Ally finally admitted.
"Yeah well I know how needy you are."
"Oh shut up."
"I wanted to apologize too." He said with a touch more seriousness. But she just shook her head.
"Please don't do that."
"No I mean it. Look I know you were pissed at me and you had every right to be I was being an asshole."
"I wasn't mad at you I just…" she pressed a hand to her forehead and looked away, her gaze scanning the empty neighborhood, "I was mad at Dallas."
He didn't reply but simply stared at her through black shades.
"He's ruined so many things for me." She looked everywhere but at him, "Even simple things. He's ruined them, you know?"
Austin nodded, understanding fully, "I get it."
"Sooo how many 'sorries' am I up to now?" her mischieveous gaze rose to meet his again, "A hundred? Two hundred?"
He shrugged, "Too many to count I think."
She pulled her lips in, nodding in reluctant acceptance, "Seems about right."
They stood there smiling at each other for a moment without any desire to look away.
"So how you holding up?" Austin asked, "You look like shit."
She countered his teasing grin with narrowed eyes.
"Gee thanks." Ally deadpanned as Austin smoothly grasped her hand and kissed the back of it. "I've been up all night writing songs actually."
He buried his right hand back in its pocket and nodded in approval.
"Really? And with a bum hand? Impressive."
"My lyrics look like they were written by a 4th grader but hey, as long as they're legible right?"
"That's literally 90% of what songwriting is all about." He agreed cheekily.
They chuckled.
"Um so what about you how are you feeling?" she asked, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
"Why? Do I look like shit?"
"Very much so yeah."
"You're fucking hilarious Dawson. My hand's ok but my mouth hurt like hell this morning. I took a couple of Tylenol."
"Okay good."
And then they lapsed into another silence as Ally discretely observed him and contemplated all the things she wanted to say. He looked every bit the young rockstar in slim fit, mustard colored jeans ripped open at both knees and some scuffed black Converses. His black t-shirt, with the "Highway to Hell" album cover stretched across it, was that of a true AC/DC junkie. Her brown eyes danced across the image, appreciating frontman Brian Johnson's devil horns and snarling lip. In Miami's chilly early hours, Austin had thrown on a faded denim jacket and housed both of his cold hands in the pockets. He looked at her from behind black Ray bans that gave him an air of 'I don't give a shit sophistication' while his bright blonde hair lay perfectly disheveled. Ally easily imagined him onstage in the same outfit, standing firmly with the keyboardist on his left and the bassist on his right and a Gibson guitar at his waist. She liked the mental image. She adored it actually, and couldn't hide her tiny smile as she tucked it away for later.
"So you're headed to OHA now?"
He nodded, "Uh yeah we have a show tonight around 9."
A thought occurred to her. It was absolutely absurd and she knew that but….Ally wanted him to stay and she wanted it badly. She couldn't understand why her heart was so eager to embrace Austin, especially when it was still in so many jagged pieces. Maybe because he was the only person who'd seen her deepest, bloodiest wounds and, instead of reeling in disgust, he'd shown Ally his own and told her it was okay. But they'd only known each other three days. There was no way to express her desire to him without sounding insane.
So she didn't, not really.
"This has been a very…interesting weekend to say the least." She smiled though she wanted to replace 'interesting' with so many other words. With words that captured the gash in her right hand and the appreciation in her heart and the tears she hadn't yet shed. But, once again, she refrained.
"Thank you." She said, as if that came even close to being enough.
Austin's eyebrows pulled together as he shrugged, "For what?"
She rolled her eyes playfully, "Just say you're welcome."
But Austin remained silent and carefully lifted his shades to the top of his head instead.
He hesitated a moment before reaching up to gently pull the MUNY pen from her hair. It was like taking the pin out of a grenade as big messy ombre curls exploded from their perch and fell around her face. She let him take her wrist in his other hand, trembling as he slowly pushed up the sleeve of her cardigan.
"What're you doing?" she laughed breathlessly and without really meaning to. It was a nervous tick because the tingles in her skin HAD to go somewhere.
"Giving you something to temporarily remember me by." He replied, already pressing the pen tip to her creamy skin.
"Ink poisoning?" another awkward and unintentional laugh.
His eyes rose beneath their blonde lashes to meet hers as a smirk played about his lips. And that sultry gaze was enough to shut Ally up and snuff out her nervous giggles and send a single pleasurable shiver down her spine.
Austin wrote carefully and with an uncharacteristic neatness. The black ink contrasted so sharply with her porcelain skin but he loved it. Every stroke of the pen brought him closer to her elbow and Ally found it difficult to comprehend how much she liked the feel of his hand. He finished with a soft click of the pen and stood up straight, that same irresistible smirk on his face.
She stared at him for a moment with her lips parted in curiosity and her eyes adoring. Then, snapping out of it, Ally looked down at her forearm and took a deep breath. Written there was a piece of a Charles Bukowski poem.
"…she's mad but she's magic. There's no lie in her fire…"
And suddenly he was pressing his lips to her cheek before she could even look up. It was one of the most affectionate gestures he'd ever performed because Austin had found that poem in one of Dez's literary books and that particular line always stuck with him for some reason. Now he knew why.
"Bye madam Ally." He whispered, lingering near and awash in the scent of her shampoo.
His closeness seemed to awaken her fully because, all at once, she was turning her head and kissing him properly but with a shy softness that was completely Ally. He wanted to run his tongue across her top lip and grab hold of her face and potentially finish what they'd started the night before between the yellow walls of her bedroom. But he just kissed her back gently, taking an electric moment to pull her bottom lip between his teeth with the kind of tempered hunger that was so quintessentially Austin. They'd kissed multiple times that weekend, and yet, as he softly grasped her chin and tasted her strawberry Chapstick at 9 something in the morning, he found himself still unable to describe the incredible feeling. All Austin knew was that she was doing it again, consuming him without even really trying.
When they finally drew back, she blushed in that adorable pink that he'd come to appreciate like a new favorite song.
"Goodbye Austin." She whispered through smiling lips, immersing herself in the brown eyes of a thick-skinned musician with the most beautiful flaws because who knew if she'd ever get the chance to do so again? Austin shot her a grin as he quickly tried to regain his normal brain function. She was so secretly confident, so internally alighted, and he loved that she allowed him even the tiniest glimpses of it.
She'd be alright without him. He was almost sure of it.
But will I be alright without her?
The question carefully seeded itself in his brain as he replaced the Ray Bans on the bridge of his nose. It sprouted its first root tendrils, snaking insidiously into his mind as he stuck the MUNY pen behind his own ear and walked back over to Roxanne. By the time he was cruising down the street and Ally was just a red and grey figure in his rearview mirror, the inquiry had fully anchored itself into his grey matter.
Will I be alright without her?