Template:Under a Paper Moon 2

A/N: Hello, hello, hello. :D

Honestly, I'm so humbled that I'm still here. One quarter of the way there. I am so grateful to all those at voted at all, not just the ones that did me. I know for a fact that these stories here encapsulate everything about this show, and I'm just so happy to be part of it.

So honestly, thank you. (Even just clicking on this link and going 'wow she writes lot ew let's not' is an achievement for me. So yes, thank you!)

Hopefully my story gets better, and people want to read it. So really, if there's something you don't like, even a really stupid insignificant thing, tell me. I'm all about CONSTRUCTIVE critism and becoming a better writer. So if you do that, you'd be helping me a lot! :D

OH GOD IT GOT SO LONG I'M SO SORRY PLEASE READ IT THOUGH I WORKED REALLY HARD BUT SERIOUSLY IT'S LONG LIKE WOW I JUST - i cannot stop

So now I'll conclude this novel length author's note, and get onto the part that (hopefully) you've been waiting for -

story time!!

UNDER A PAPER MOON - ch2

"Austin,

It’s me – again. I want to tell you things are different, that I have had a change of heart. Well, I haven’t. It’s still me, trying to explain to you the actions that may seem crazy to you. Plus, it will make me feel a little better about everything if you knew everything – you'll understand with time.

My heart wants to talk to you about, I don't know, music, us, the current state in which I'm sending this letter.

Well, I'm going to tell you about the ocean.

All I heard was teh waves lapping against the rocks jutting out of the cliff. The water fierce and sharp - it cut away the air in which it falls. The ocean is an oddly serene sounding natural wonder - a constant body folding in on itself, calming you by lulling you into a state of tranquil.

With the ocean below me, instead of hearing the merciful waves, all I could hear was my heart beating against my ribcage - which was nowhere near as relaxing - as my heart threatened to palpitate. I was standing atop the bluff in Porcelli, after having watched a bridge collapse.

My past had finally caught up with me, striking me like lightning.

So there you were, as you watched with horror as your tour bus fell many meters to its’ doom at the bottom of the ravine. The carnage, the horrible sound of screeching metal and engines burning – it wasn’t good.

My eyes were stuck to you like glue. You sported a leather jacket and a very full back-pack slinging from side to side on one shoulder. Your brows were furrowed in aggravation – you had just lost your home. I can only imagine what that felt like. I was just thankful no fatalities were incurred.

My palms grew clammy as my eyes darted around these strange new surroundings. My taxi driver sat with a macabre expression, gloomily stroking his moustache. The hills rolled across the terrain, a silhouette of the town painted onto the blue skyline.

The sun was at its peak, and my cheeks were red. My chestnut locks covered most of my face, easily concealing my identity. I fiddled with the hem of my dress, as I waited for that dreaded moment of impact –

When you’d notice me.

My eyes stayed firmly situated to my feet. ‘No, don’t look up.’ I chanted in my mind. It felt like lasers were being etched into my back.

Ha, ‘don’t look up’. What does that remind you of, Austin?

But I refused to turn around. My back was to everything, and everyone, behind me. Symbolic, really. But as I watched the tragedy-stricken vehicles make their way down the stream of water, a sound erupted from the hills behind me.

“Voi bambini stupidi! Cos'hai fatto?!?!” An elderly woman screeches, as she hobbles down the path to the travesty we created.

Her cane was raised into the air, spinning like she was a helicopter taking flight. Her eyes were dark, menacing – I was terrified.

“Grandmamma!” Another voice shouts, laced with concern.

The townspeople make their way towards the bluff, as I turn around. The elderly lady has her eyes narrowed in on me, cutting open my soul.

“Does anyone speak Italian?” One of the nervous newcomers on the Cliffside squabbles.

I’d know that voice anywhere...

Turning turns into looking, and looking turns into staring.

Trish.

Suddenly, the crowds from Porcelli have flanked, as the small huddle of bridge wreckers quaked with fear.

“What did you do to our bridge?” A beautiful Italian girl asks in horror, clinging to the old lady.

“What bridge? I don’t see a bridge!” Dez asked curiously.

Wait, Dez?!!

Oh that’s right, Austin – I had just won myself a weekend I would never forget.

The townspeople qualm with one another, fluently discussing our fate whilst speaking Italian. But I couldn’t care less about what had happened with the bridge – my mind was stuck to the concept of ‘Team Austin’ being reunited. As you’d very well know, I hadn’t seen any of you since, well, the incident, so I was a mess.

The pretty Italian with large blue eyes makes her way through the rift between the Porcelli people, and us.

“Hello, my English is not well, but – I am Amelia.” She offers nervously, stuttering as she speaks.

“Our people – we’re not harass. Wait, no, that’s not correct. No, I mean – we’re not happy.” Her hands are shaking nervously at her side, and I just stare at her with bewilderment. I mean, were we that much a threat? And how can someone so beautiful and graceful be so afraid to talk to people?

“The bottom line is, you broke our bridge. You come into town, while we repair bridge. You’ll pay off your debt to the town by working until you can go home.” Amelia looks behind to the old lady, her grandmother, as she mouths words to her in Italian.

“How long will we be stranded here?” Austin pipes up, clearly agitated.

Amelia straightens her posture, exhaling audibly. “Uh, for our stone mason to gather the materials, and for us to ensemble the people to build it – you’ll be here for at least a week or two.”

“WHAT?” All of us screamed, as the townspeople sniggered and rolled their eyes.

Then began the old lady’s rant, in Italian, which had a duration of around twenty minutes. I was lost in the clouds that floated in the sky, as I reminisced times that were long gone.

You could guess what they were, Austin.

So, time flew by like the birds who chirped within the trees that lined the streets of Porcelli. The town itself was an old town, built by stone, and can be seen as a village in some respects. There are no telephone wires, no cars, no real signs of technology whatsoever.

But, as we were marched down the main street, the townspeople stared. Amelia led us through narrow alley ways and across plains, and I still hadn’t amounted the courage to look up. I hadn’t looked any of you in the eye, I wasn’t even sure if you knew it was me.

Time would tell.

Finally, our march was over. Amelia had led us to a small building behind a luxurious homestead on the outskirts of the town (which wasn’t very big, by the way.)

“Well, here is where you’ll be stay.” Amelia gulped, as she pried open the doors of the building.

It was a barn.

A cow could be heard moo-ing in the distance, as a gaggle of geese cut through the air, coating us in their stray feathers.

There were only three people at my side. The other members from the vehicles, my taxi driver included, seemed to escape blame (and received better accommodation) because everything that goes wrong in this town seems to be at the fault of the young.

I respected their ideals. I didn’t agree, but I respected them.

“So there’s no way I can call home?” you sighed, as you ruffled your hair in contempt.

“No, not possible. Sorry.” Amelia enthused, her eyes lingering on you for longer than I would have deemed comfortable.

Without another word, Amelia trapezes back to the town, leaving the four of us in this faux living arrangement.

I avoid all eye contact.

“Hi, I’m Austin.” You offered awkwardly, as I finally elevate my head. You hadn’t seen me – nobody ever sees me these days.

Your eyes meet mine for the first time in so long. The life in your features literally disappears, like the trickle of water droplets in the weather. You didn’t move, I’m not even sure you blinked; you just stared at me like I stared at you.

And no, this wasn’t the sort of staring that used to occur in Sonic Boom- that staring was playful flirting and painstakingly obvious feelings that resonated whenever we glanced at each other. No, this staring was different – it was like we had exhumed a corpse, both together and on our own.

“Ally?” You croaked, your voice broken beyond recognition.

“Oh my god...” Dez gasped, as Trish covered her mouth.

My heart sank further when I saw you all. No, I’m not getting emotional – even after two seconds, I could tell that you were all so different.

Dez was wearing a business suit. He looked clean, sharp – and so different. There was not an odd colour or pattern to him – just various shades of white. His hair is slicked back like a stock broker, and his voice is so timid and deadpan, it seems as though he has no personality.

He is now a director for a teen soap opera on cable television. I’d seen the show a few times, but really, the Dez I knew would never have wanted to be where he now stood.

A more subtle change had incurred in Trish. I had seen all the magazine articles and newspaper clippings. After Team Austin, it seemed that it wasn’t just me that disbanded – everyone did. And Trish became a dragon lady.

She accumulated clients like trophies, and never allowed herself to attach herself to them emotionally in any sort of way. She was rough, she was loud and she was rude – but she got results. Being a manager for so many different talents (and non-talents) and having no friends would have taken a toll. Even by looking at her right now, I could tell she was lonely.

Then there was you, Austin. I hadn’t read of your misfortunes like Trish, nor did I see them on your face like Dez. But I could feel that something was amiss, a hunch that was confirmed when our eyes connected for the first time.

I said nothing, my lips were closed. I could invoke any words to describe what had just happened. You all stood like zombies as I faded away, and cornered myself in the barn.

It wasn’t just my stage-fright that ate at me these days – now you three too.

Okay, if that wasn’t bad enough, times had passed. It was now three days since Dez (yes, it was Dez) collapsed that bridge.

I never looked at any of you – I simply couldn’t. Small titbits of guilt swirled around in the back of my mind, but my heart was still hurting too much to allow myself to act any differently.

Like Agnes (the old lady) had promised, we’d be put to remedial farm work to pay off our debt to Porcelli.

We ate meals at different tables. We did chores in different sectors. You spent most of your time hanging with Amelia. Dez befriended the village’s goat. As for Trish, she worked in the kitchen with Agnes.

I stacked jars in their basement.

I literally spent those days in silence, all alone, reliving the pain of utter humiliation and betrayal over and over. Thinking how losing Team Austin made Ronnie Ramone fire me, and sending me back into the cave known as ‘stage-fright.’ It’s a dark place to be, especially when you don’t have a torch to light it.

So when you walked through the basement door, your face distorted in disgust, I almost collapsed on the floor.

A small grate let small rays of sun soak the stone flooring. Hundreds upon hundreds of preserved fruits and chutneys are stacked along the wooden shelves, that of which I’m now accountable for. You look grieved as you tread closer, as my anxiety bubbles within.

“Uh, Amelia said I had to work, so...” you drifted off, my eyes still on the jars.

You shuffled awkwardly as I ignored you. I didn’t want to ignore you, Austin. I just – what could I say? ‘Oh buddy pal, just slip over here and stack those jars like a champ!’

I could have. But I didn’t.

Instead I opted for bitter silence.

You rustle through one crate of jars, as you pick some up, looking at the relish and chutney inside them, and I could see out the corner of my eye you contemplating putting them in your mouth.

“Don’t eat it.” I said monotonously, the first words spoken to you in, well, forever.

Your neck snapped towards me immediately, your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

So we worked at a sluggish pace. Now Austin, you need to know why I said nothing in that silence. You probably didn’t realise that I sensed the reason you were at Porcelli at that time. I knew from the get-go that Amelia was your girlfriend. I didn’t say a word because there were no words to encapsulate how betrayed I felt – that you had all moved on with your lives whilst I was still trying to get back on my feet.

As for motives, I know Trish was in Porcelli following a client in the hopes of signing them. Dez was trying to scout locations for his show.

After a chilling coat of silence, you finally spoke up.

“This sucks. I am performing at the Grammy awards on Saturday.” You remarked, placing more jars in their place.

One thing I also knew was that you didn’t write any of your music anymore – you were fed lyrics from a corporate company.

“Well... congratulations.” I said without emotion.

“So... why are you in this town?” You questioned dubiously, an eyebrow arched.

“I was picking up the wedding dress. The wedding is also on Saturday, and... I’m going to miss it.” My eyes become glassy, and I try to discreetly wipe away the tear.

You notice.

“Ally.. I... you can’t stay mad at me okay? Like, I know..” You began, but that was interrupted by the jar that smashes to the ground. You dropped a jar.

You dropped a jar full of pickles.

“Austin, I know how you feel, okay? You don’t care about me anymore, I get it? I don’t expect you to! And I don’t want your apology, or your sympathy... I just want you to stop making this so hard. My heart, it burns whenever your name is splashed across the media, or posted on every street corner. Because, unlike you, my life isn’t great!” I slam the jar angrily on the shelf, sadness contorting my features.

“I just feel sick, all the time, knowing I lost something so valuable. I think about it all the time. But you – you threw it away! Treated it, me, like garbage! Austin, I can’t pretend it never happened.” My voice is booming and croaking. Your eyes are rimmed in red, as I avert my gaze.

“I don’t want to be seen as the disappointment anymore, alright? Just... leave me alone, like you did before.” I croak, as I race out of the room.

In those moments, I thought your mind was swirling with rage and anger. I thought you burned with the hatred of my actions, and my melodramatic rant.

What I didn’t know then was the fact that you never hated me. No, you’d stir in your sleep, awake with the horror of what you did to me.

You lived in guilt.

And it took me too long to realise, long after these events had taken place (about four months) that it wasn’t just guilt that drove you crazy.

You still loved me. You broke my heart.

But you wanted to help pick up the pieces.”

A/N: Godammit it got so long ugh I'm so sorry for those who had to put up with it bhahHA. I do know I have some past-tense/present-tense issues in this, but it's really late and I'm exhausted, so I'll fix them later.

So ya, shoot me a message or stare blankly at the screen or go do something you love - just make sure you're happy doing it. :D

So see you guys, and I really hope I make it into the next round. If not, I'm happy to write the rest for anyone who is sorta maybe interested? Idk.

But a question for my fellow readers -

Do you want Ally to forgive the others?

AND

What do you think the 'incident' was? What do you think the others did that turned Ally's world upside down?

AND

Will Ally realise Austin's feelings before it's too late? (Don't keep your hopes up for this btw, since I don't know whether they will.... MWAHHAHA)

Ehehe.

But yes, thank you for reading and..

stay awesome? Idk

*insert inspirational quote here*