A/N: Another flashback, they are 24 in this chapter to prevent any confusion. Also, some chapters will not have as much action as others, that's how life is, but be patient, I promise the story will progress. And there will be chapters where there is no dialogue, this is my way of creating a sense of isolation, feel the characters' pain. Have to make it angsty somehow...

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, not the show, not the characters, not the songs, not West Side Story. I am not affiliated with nor have met anyone depicted in this fictional story. Song credits to the Airbourne Toxic Event and Train.

Rating: M for mature language and themes

Times Like These

5: you know that she'll break you in two

Tell me did you sail across the sun
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded
And that heaven is overrated?

But tell me, did you fall for a shooting star?
One without a permanent scar
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there

-Drops of Jupiter, Train

He perched himself next to the bar; he hadn't moved for some time. He knew this wasn't the best place to be since it could lead to disastrous consequences for him, but he didn't know most of these industry people and that made him uncomfortable. When he was uncomfortable, he relied on alcohol for a little social lubrication. But even that wasn't enough to calm his nerves. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans for the millionth time. He hadn't been to one of these big events in awhile, and he was rusty with his mingling skills. People knew him and would come up and try to converse, but he wasn't very receptive. If anything, over the years his discomfort being around crowds had grown, and his introversion had gotten worse.

To many, he was still a big star, but his reputation had suffered since his youth. Over the past few years, he started to come off more aloof and disenchanted when speaking publicly. He was no longer the voice of the band, no longer allowed to do any interviews alone, mostly because they couldn't control his disdain for the questions he didn't want to be asked. And journalists couldn't be trusted not to ask him about her.

Her.

He was kidding himself if he didn't think there was some small shred inside him that hoped she might be here tonight. She lived here now, filming her show and attending college. She had created a new life in New York without him. It was hard for him to imagine her here, she'd always be so associated with his Los Angeles memories.

But he couldn't tell anyone about hoping to see her, not even his therapist. If his family knew, they'd have persuaded him against coming, and there was no way he was going to miss being here to support his friend, whether she was here or not. He'd missed out on too much already by taking himself out of the social equation for the past five years. And anyway, he was finally moving on in a positive direction. He had a rough go at it for a while, but he was a brand new person now. Everything that happened between them was literally a lifetime ago.

Lifetime ago or not, it was still difficult to have to field questions about the past. He had been practically assaulted with questions about his former life as a child star as he'd walked the red carpet earlier, an inevitability due to the nature of the event. He thought he did fairly well considering how anxious he was feeling. He didn't like the prying eyes or having to answer questions he didn't want to be asked. This was why he preferred the music industry to the typical Hollywood thing. Immersing himself in his music had been helpful, there weren't as many red carpets or interviews or whatnot, and he could hide. Lots of people in this business wanted to be seen, he would rather just be heard.

He scanned the room, sipping his whisky slowly. Even though he didn't recognize anyone, he recognized their stereotypes. That hadn't changed. The models who slurped their drinks whilst looking hungry. The nobody junior agents who talked a big game, when they'd probably snuck into the party on an ignored invite to their much more powerful bosses. The spoiled starlets who threw fits over asinine details while their personal assistants followed like obedient puppies. The coked out groupies looking to attach themselves to anyone halfway famous. They were all the same nameless, faceless drones he'd become accustomed to seeing since he'd started attending these events when he was 15. This business was so superficial and the people were so interchangeable. He was glad he had kept his distance. It was better to keep everyone at arm's length. But didn't that make him into stereotype as well? He embodied the disaffected rock star type. He was just as interchangeable as the rest of them.

And then finally out of the crowd, a familiar face to rescue him from his thoughts.

"ROSS! HI!" A bundle of dark curls ran up and enveloped him a big hug, and he relished the familiarity of his friend. He swayed with her, almost picking her up off the ground.

"Hi, long time," he said, studying her face. She looked happy, the laugh lines showing themselves along with that same twinkle that was always present in her eyes. He had never been happier to see that some things didn't change.

"I'm so happy you could make it tonight. So happy! I can't believe you're here," she squealed.

He chuckled at her exuberant response, not many people had that reaction to seeing him anymore. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, this is huge, Rain. You were so great up there, I loved it. You were amazing."

He was so happy to reunite with his friend on the first night of her latest project, a revival of West Side Story on Broadway. He knew how much this meant to her, so it meant that much to him. It had been her childhood dream to be on the Great White Way, and now here she was, her name in starry lights. He was so proud of his friend, words couldn't describe.

"Thank you. I got your flowers, they were beautiful," she added breathlessly. Before he could answer, he was interrupted by multiple people coming up to her to offer their congratulations and well wishes. It was nice to see her continued successes.

He regretted not being a better friend over the past few years. It had been difficult to stay as close to Raini because of her close friendship with Laura. Their relationship had become strained, she had many harsh words for him at one time, but he was elated she had still thought to include him now, extending the proverbial olive branch. She was just one of the best people he knew, and he'd missed her guidance and wisdom immensely.

She turned her attention back to him. "You have no idea how much this means to me that you came. I know you're in the middle of your tour, and you're leaving for Europe soon. I'm just so happy you could make it. We need to have dinner and catch up soon when you're back, and you can tell me all about your world travels. And I heard the new single, so good as always," she smiled.

"Thanks. I'll send you the new album, let me know if you like it."

"Of course, I'm sure I'll love it."

"Rocky's around here somewhere, and the rest of the gang sends their best. They're sorry they couldn't make it."

"Aww, I miss the whole gang. I'll have to find Rocky, but tell your family hello." She hugged him again, as someone else tapped her on the shoulder to whisk her off to mingle with more important people. "I'm just so glad you're here, Ross! Thanks again!"

She left him standing there in the middle of the room, and suddenly he felt very exposed. He took another generous swig of his drink. He craned his neck to see if he could find his brother, but as usual Rocky had wandered off, probably in pursuit of some hot girl. Some other things hadn't changed over the years. He searched the room a few more times, thinking he had missed him when his eyes met a pair of deep chocolate eyes he would recognize anywhere. His breath caught in his throat, causing him to choke on the bitter liquid.

Time stood still for seconds, minutes, hours? He had no concept.

She looked away quickly. He felt like his lungs were gasping, grasping for breath. He forgot where he was, both in space and time. He felt like he was floating above himself, looking down at the sad soul that was left standing vulnerable and alone. He knew she had seen him, and he felt trapped in this huge room with the eyes of all these people on him. And then her eyes were on him again.

The lights beat down on him and he started to sweat, but he was cold and shivering at the same time. He swore he saw her lips curl up into a little smile. He used to know everything about her, but now he couldn't even tell if it was a happy or sad smile. He did not avert his eyes, turning this into a mental staring contest.

She broke first. She turned back to her companion, laughing at something he said, holding her drink up to her chest as if it would ward his evil spirit away.

She wore a white dress. Of course she would, the purest of innocence was what she'd always portrayed. He knew otherwise. He felt dizzy, unwell. He closed his eyes as a thousand memories of her flooded his mind and his heart, and he suddenly couldn't breathe and it was too much and he had to sit down, but there was nowhere to sit down. A million snapshots littered his mind as his throat grew dry with an impending sense of urgency. It was all lips and skin and whispers and promises and he wanted to cry, but he couldn't. Not here. He gripped the bar behind him to steady himself.

He felt like he was falling endlessly, the coils in his stomach relapsing and remitting, with no endpoint in sight. He feared he would feel this way forever.

He downed the rest of his drink, then had the bartender pour him another, then another. He was not sure if he was trying to drown himself, but it seemed like a good idea.

When he looked up again, he saw her staring, her face etched with concern because of course she was still a good person, and he wasn't, and she hadn't changed and she was so devastatingly beautiful that he wanted to be swallowed whole by the earth, and it wouldn't even matter to him.

He wondered what he looked like to her, if it was pity in her eyes, if it was as painful for her as it was for him, and before he can decide that it wasn't, she was right there in front of him. There's a worn and guarded look in her eyes, one that he is ashamed to have seen before, created by the dissolution of their relationship.

"Ross." His name hadn't sounded as sweet in years. Her eyes were dull, no longer shiny with the luster he had adored so much. They were tired, like they'd seen too many painful things. But even with the sadness in her eyes, she looked so fucking beautiful to him.

"Laura." The word rolled off his tongue so smoothly, like his mouth had been anxiously waiting for the opportunity to say it again. He could smell her, she smelled the same, and it killed him.

"How are you?" she asked, and he felt like she did not really want to know the answer, so he gave her an acceptable response.

"Great, how are you?" His tone painted a picture of forced happiness. He wasn't happy, he was fucking dying inside. His sympathetic nervous system was working in overdrive, wondering if he should fight or fly.

"Great. It's nice seeing you again, I've heard you've been all over, really busy." They both stood there stiltedly facing each other, keeping a safe distance apart.

"Yeah, touring. Back in LA soon though." He was not entirely sure why he said this, but somehow he wanted her to know that there could be some permanence in his life, one day.

She gave him a closed-lipped smile, like she was trying hard to be diplomatic. "Awesome. Well, maybe we will run into each other again."

He wanted to ask her what would happen then, would they run away from each other like they were about to do now?

"Yeah, maybe. Good seeing you." All he could do was stare as she walked away again. Their encounter was brief, but he knew it would become a new obsession. She turned around once to see if he was looking after her, and he was. She linked her arm with some guy whom he knew to be her boyfriend, and they made their exit.

And that was it.

Five years of anguish returned after less than five minutes of face time.

It wasn't enough for him. He had to see her again, if only for a minute. He just had to see her face. He had to read every line, he wanted to see something that would give him one clue as to how she felt about him. He couldn't go another five years without knowing.

He wanted to scream, "That's it? That's all I get?" He'd thought that there would be some sort of resolution to things once he saw her again, but there was just dissatisfaction. There was a physical ache inside him, needing something more from her. He couldn't believe that was all.

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, looking like some sort of maniac, out the exit, hoping to just catch a glimpse. He just had to see her.

He maybe caught half her face as she climbed into her car, but then the paparazzi descended upon him and started blinding him with flashbulbs and then it was really over. He trudged into the club again, running into his brother.

"Hey, where were you, I've been looking for you everywhere?" Rocky asked. When Ross didn't immediately respond, he noticed the pale, blank look that has replaced his brother's countenance, and his face reflected his concern.

"Hey man, you look like you've seen a ghost, are you okay?"

He shrugged it off, and wordlessly headed towards the rear exit, not wanting the cameras to catch his broken hearted face on film again.

Once he got outside, he nearly collapsed against the building. It smelled like sweat and piss outside in this alley, but he didn't care. The tears rolled down his cheeks and he didn't do anything to stop them. What did it matter? He had just seen her for the first time in five years. And even though he thought he had gotten over her, he hadn't.

It became clear that he wouldn't.

No matter where he ended up in life, she would always be the one that got away, and that tortured him. He would be lying to himself if he thought he could just forget her. He would never forget. He loved her too much, she meant too much to him. Even if they never got back to where they once were, he had to at least make her understand why he did what he did. One day he would make her forgive him, then maybe he could work on forgiving himself.

A/N: Hint, reviews might lead to a present day Raura meeting in the next chapter.