AN: I am still trying to process that this is the last chapter, guys. I mean, when I was writing this, I didn't really think about it, but now that I finishing typing all of this. I'm going to have to place the story in complete and never touch it, again. And the thought of that, kind of scares me a little, because this story was the first story I was set on working on, the first one. Now, it's finished, and I'm not going to be updating It Should Be Austin anymore. I don't know about you, but that idea is a little frightening. Anyway, I just want to firstly state, that all of the thank yous and the love is going to be placed at the bottom. I don't want to make your eyes water right now, so yeah.

I just want to say, that I put my all into this chapter. This chapter is just all of my writing, and all of what I could do, into a small chapter. Or though, this is actually longer than others I've written, but you get me, right? Sighs, sighs, sighs, I hope you guys enjoy the last chapter of It Should Be Austin. Oh and please review, all of those who have never reviewed nor touched my review button, please review. This is the final chapter, and I just want to see what all of you thought about this story.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE END

Monday morning came harsh and sour.

Dark, cold, and slightly uninvited even, whilst the pelted raindrops slid down the classroom windows. One by one, racing towards the bottom of the sill, having more fun then any of us teens all together. No one was having a good morning, thanks to the beginning of another school week. Yeah sure, summer was close, and freedom from school was near, but none of that changed the heavy essence of almost gloom hovering in the school. Every kid I've walked by, had the same shriveled, bitter look on their face, reflecting in every step they took. I almost let it affect the glint in my eyes, just for a moment, constantly reminding myself that summer was coming soon and three months of freedom were coming my way.

But I just can't wait anymore.

I can't wait for days of sun, and nights of fireworks. Hot-dogs, lemonade, and ice-cream—(even if we may have that now), you can still never get enough. I just can't wait for summer to make it's way soon, ending the prison that is school. I mean, look at me, I can hardly even listen to what Miss. Potts is even saying, it's all a blur, all an obstacle towards a paradise. She has her glasses on, and I think she's talking about finals or something, but I don't think I care. World History is a subject that, as surprising as it may be, I've always been quite well at acing, so I never really study and hope I can remember everything. It's just a little different from Austin's study plans.

Austin.

My head rung, loudly and almost distractingly.

I wonder how he's doing. We hadn't really called each other after that last time, because he got super busy this weekend with homework, and well, work, so we forgot to call each other. But I do remember him texting me that he wanted to talk during lunch, and I figured, that as a friend, I should be there. I just didn't know how many classes I had until lunch.

I think three? But honestly, I wasn't sure, because once again, the clock seems to be a numerical confusion, and Miss. Potts seems to lack of anything fun. I just stopped remembering what class I was in, and started departing off to dreamland. It was only normal for me to get lost. Especially when it came to Ally, I always got lost in my thoughts when it came to Ally, like with her hair, and with her laugh, and her magnificent strawberry shampoo (that seems to stay days on end on my clothes), and her big, brown eyes. Oh, those big, brown eyes, they were beautiful and wholesomely the reason to which she always got whatever she wanted around me.

Ally was breathtaking, and utterly perfect, but sometimes it scared me that she was with me.

There were other guys, much smarter ones, and better-looking ones, and yet, she fell in love with me. I mean, I understand it's me she wants, but sometimes, that's hard to believe.

Sometimes, everything, is a little hard to believe. All the trials, and the drama, and everything I went through, just to get all my friends by my side again. There all too hard to believe, and I guess, in a way, it's what makes the memory all the more special. It's kind of what tilts the story, strangely, into a more funny perspective. Yeah, getting my heartbroken, isn't all that funny, but thinking that, all along that time it was, Ally liked me and Austin was just as broken as I, is a little unusually funny.

Everything is.

Even the fact that I miss Trish more then I thought I would!

It's all funny.

"Dezmond!" my eyes fluttered back to the attention on the chalkboard, hazily, "Dezmond Worthy, will you please wake up from your little afternoon nap?"

"Huh," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes soothingly. I hadn't remembered what happened, but I could see the disappointing look on Miss. Potts face, and the light tap her shoes were making on the floor. I took a guess that she asked me a question and I didn't answer, because I was thinking too much. "Oh, sorry Miss. Potts." I smiled meekly, noticing the way her hips quirked to the side. Usually someone would be snickering or giggling in the back, but on Mondays, no one ever paid attention.

"Hmph," her tongue swiped across her upper lip, "apology forgiven. Now, if you would please so kindly answer the question?"

"Oh, uh," I stammered, dragging my fingers against my scalp in embarrassment, "what was the question?"

"Maybe next time you should pay attention, Dezmond." Her arms crossed against her chest, she had a single strand falling to the side of her face. I could only feel sorry for the woman, Mondays were never easy, and I assume she knows that, which is why her eyebrows were furrowed at the chalkboard right now. But, I mean, she didn't have to call me Dezmond. My name was shortened to Dez for a reason. Dezmond sounded old and, strange, and made me somewhat uncomfortable when people rolled it off their tongue.

"Yeah, uh, once again, sorry." I said again, inhaling quite a lot of air in some kind of anger. "But, it's Dez," I sighed, slinging my head to the side of my shoulder. "It's always been Dez."

"Well, you weren't paying attention to Dez," her arms loosened, "so I took it that you liked Dezmond better."

I almost bit my cheek in caution to saying anything else. I knew my rights from my wrongs, and this was definitely a wrong. Miss. Potts, as annoying as she may be, had an understandable reason for getting mad at me. Even if I did hate Dezmond, I should have probably listened to her, she was talking for the past, my eyes glanced towards the clock quickly, forty minutes. Forty minutes of no one listening, is kind of understandable, even if I'm surprised I had spiraled into Alice in Wonderland for that long.

She only turned her back towards the board, and deviated her attention from me. Now reading some Shakespeare quote, that seems like it may arrive on the finals exam.

I never knew a whole lot about Shakespeare, but then again, who ever did? I mean, did he ever get excited about summer, and, or lunch? I would hope he did. Lunch is one of the best times of the day, other then after-school and sleep. And corn-dog eating!

Man, I'm in the mood for corn-dog eating.

"Dezmond Worthy!" Miss. Potts shouted once again, her hair falling out of place. "Will you please answer the question!?"

I smiled like a dork then, because I think we both know I wasn't paying attention this time either.

When lunch started, the whole cafeteria was a dead place. Thanks to the fact that it's Mondays, and they weren't serving tacos today, nor any kind of edible food substance. All of the kids seemed to want to die, and I don't blame them. Though I still took a peek at today's lunch, despite no one seeming to be excited about it, and was met with what looked like an oatmeal mixture, all gray and soggy, practically soaking up all of the plate's plastic. Gross.

Shivering as my eyes moved views from the plate, I scanned the lunchroom for a familiar blond.

I didn't see him for quite a while, and just stood with my hands on my bookbag straps. Sort of second thinking that he actually sent me a text, because who knows, he probably stayed home. But just when I was about to lift my phone to check once more if he actually texted me, I was met with another pair of brown eyes. That were surrounded with dark circles, and rings of purple underneath—Austin, literally the only kid who had obvious signs of insomnia.

"Hey, Austin," I almost yelled, grabbing him in a hug, "how are you?"

He murmured quite low, and waved his hand in my face, as if to tell me to quiet down, but I never really listen, so I just ignored his command. I mean, I had more important things to worry about, like the fact that he still wasn't getting any sleep, and it worried me a little. His cheeks were skinner and you could see his bones rather clearer, so I took it as a friend, to say something about it.

"Dude, you're still not getting any sleep?" My hands slapped onto his shoulders, shaking him a little. His eyes only fell to this though, and he shrugged only in response.

"How am I supposed to get any sleep?" He turned from me, clutching his textbook in his hand. Probably looking for a table to sit at, when his eyes only met a frizzy-haired girl sitting in a corner. "When she's all I think about."

It took everything in me to not tell Trish, who was as gloom as ever, to just grow up and forgive Austin a little. The guy was a wreck, and the look he gave with his eyes, made me feel all terrible inside. I just wanted them to be happy, but I knew that couldn't happen as of now, so I planted my hand on his shoulder again, and reminded him that I'm here for him. "It's okay. We'll figure something out."

His head shook humorously at that, as the smile carved into his face. "No, we won't. Trish is stubborn, she's not like other girls—," his smile widened, "and I guess that's why I love her."

That comment, sort of made me want to laugh at how much of a love dork he was being, but I guess in a way, it also made me want to cheer him up. "You should tell her that."

"Dez," he chuckled, "like I said, she's not like other girls. She doesn't want flowers, chocolates, and a love letter." He sat softly onto the edge of a nearby table, scooting a little left to leave space for me. "She wants a stadium show, spotlights, and a whole pastry shop named after her."

"Well, why don't we do that?" I edged on, pointing out the obvious.

"Because we don't exactly own a pastry shop, nor spotlights, nor a stadium."

It wasn't until a moment after, that his eyes grew at this comment. Both well aware where this was going, but I wasn't sure until he stood up in excitement, and patted me to stand with him. "What?" My head turned upwards.

"Song, song, I have to write a song." He said, effervescently, jumping that he found a solution.

"Why?" My head went forward, as I was kind of clueless as to what his idea was. I'm not sure we even had enough money to get a stadium show, or spotlights, but maybe he was going to sing to her in a pastry shop or something, perhaps, although I'm not sure.

"Because, I'm going to sing her a song, at the Miami Music Festival Show." He stated, oh so cleverly, and happily, trotting along to probably get something from the vending machine. Seeing, as well, lunch is an obvious no today, and I don't think he wants to eat anything that looks like newspaper in a blender. "Oh, and thanks Dez!" He shouted, already taking his dollar bill out of his pocket. I only smiled stupidly, finally happy that someone knows my genius.

It was not long after that that I received a text, lighting up my plaid pocket.

From: Austin

How is it possible that these chips cost a dollar?

At that, I tried my best not to laugh. Planting the phone back in the pocket, and scanning the lunchroom for a table me and Austin can sit at. Although they were all pretty packed, so I had no idea where to sit, until I caught eyes with a beautiful brunette, who had her hand extended as if to say we can sit over there.

Obviously the brunette was Ally, I had eyes for no other, but she was sitting with a couple of silent kids who were just reading and making no possible noise ever. "Hey." I mumbled, nervously, fiddling with my hands. She was sort of quiet as well, but she had a happy grin on her face, so I felt less uneasy. Settling down onto the seat, across from her, while my hands landed on the table.

But that all slowly faded, when her hands fell on mine.

Softly, and almost gently, she clasped them together, fiddling with my hand as I had done before. The smile increasing on her face, as I gave her my other hand, as an invite into fiddling with them both. She just played with them, almost gingerly, and silently, in her hands. "I wrote a song about you."

"You did?" My heart raced, excited that I made an impact on her this much.

"Yeah, or, well, two." She laughed, still playing around with my hands. "I just couldn't stop thinking about you."

I didn't know what to say, or do, I was just so happy that I meant that much to her. My overjoyed smile widening by the second, as the words she had said sunk in. And the words I was about to say, bubbling up through my throat. "Can I sit next to you? I just, I want to sit next to you."

She loosened her grip from my hands for a second, and nodded. "Yeah, yeah."

I shuffled not even a second after, onto the seat next to her, letting her nestle her hand on mine. And letting her head fall nicely onto my arm, as the smell of strawberry shampoo swam around in my head, in an almost toxic aspect, probably killing me at the moment. I mean, could it? I didn't know, but it blurted out before I could think. "Is strawberry shampoo toxic if you smell it too much?"

"Yeah, after a while, I think." Her head moves off my arm, "why, are you feeling dizzy?"

"No, no." I looked at her, struggling to tell her my state of mind. "I just, sometimes I wish I could smell it all day and then I realize that it's probably toxic and I shouldn't. But, I wish I could, I wish I could smell strawberry shampoo every minute of the day, and that's when I realize, that it is toxic and it is probably killing me. Strawberry shampoo is literally killing me."

Her face changes from confusion to a smile to even a light laugh, but it doesn't matter, because she grabs my hand in hers, and tells me. "I think I should stop using it then, 'cause I wouldn't want to kill one of the most sweetest guys in the world."

"One? Guys?" My eyebrows lifted, "there are other sweet guys?" I almost felt myself stand, though she quickly pulled me down.

"No, it's just you, Dez." Her big, brown eyes locked onto mine, "it'll always be just you."

"Oh," I chuckled in embarrassment, rubbing the back of my neck. "Sorry. I should have known."

"It's okay." She shrugs away, turning her view on the cafeteria in front of her. Her hands still held on mine, and head still laid on my shoulder, almost as if it's a perfect fit. Or a perfect puzzle, but I can't stifle away the thought that she wrote me two songs. Two songs, all about me, and because she couldn't stop thinking about me, I just, I want to hear them.

"Will you, sometime, show me those songs? I mean, you don't have to, but—."

"Sure, I would love to." She smiles at me, clutching my hand in hers, almost as if it scares her to let go.

Suddenly, we see an angry blonde approach us, with a bag of chips in one hand and a textbook in the other. His dark, insomnia eyes glaring at the vending machine. "Did you guys know that the vending machine chips are now a dollar? I mean, what is that? That's like selling snickers for seventy-five cents! It's crazy, they're crazy, those vending machine people." He almost shouts, before slumping onto the table. "And I managed to finish it the whole way through the cafeteria line. A valuable dollar for that."

Ally let my hands loose when she realized that I was about to rant along with Austin. "Huh, and can you believe snickers are seventy-five cents?"

"What!?"

"I know." I shouted in shock, not even believing myself that food costs would go this high. Ally just looked at us in laughter, almost ready to tell us that food costs help the school or whatever.

The next few days went quick.

We had spent quite a while reviewing in school and around the Sonic Boom store, writing. Or helping Austin write, because he wouldn't even let Ally touch some of the lyrics, telling her that every single letter counted and it had to be all him, and not her. She would sometimes frown at that, but then realize, it was true. Trish would never appreciate a cover, nor lyrics from Ally, or anything that wasn't from him and him himself. It had to be all Austin.

But that worried me, because not only was he secluding himself to get the lyrics right, but he was staying up pretty much all night just to see if the song would sound right. Sometimes Ally or me, had to go up into the practice room, to practically beg Austin to take a break. He hardly ate, slept, or drank, and those dark circles around his eyes were pretty much darkening by the amount of hours he would stay up.

I would say he's pretty dedicated, but that would be an exaggeration.

I've been sitting in the corner of the music room, for about three hours, and not once has he moved from that chair.

He keeps playing different keys, and seeing which goes better, but then throwing it all away and making a new one. As if to say, that nothing was ever good enough, which was a lie, because every key became better then the next, and every lyric he changed, only developed into something greater than the one before. But, he needed rest, and if he got rest, then maybe he would be able to actually finish a song. His hands are going to end up failing him and he'll eventually collapse onto the desk.

"Austin, take a break." I finally stood up, making my way over to him.

"No, Dez." He said, his voice weak and hoarse, from singing way too much and not sleeping at all. "I have to make this perfect."

"No, you have to go to sleep." I removed the pen from his grasp, only to receive a loud groan from the blond beside me.

"Give me my writing utensil." His arms crossed, as he huffed from the anger that was currently rising. Honestly though, I couldn't careless, the man needed some sleep and that is what he was going to get, whether he had to sleep in here or not, he was getting it.

"No." I stomped my way out of the room.

"Dez!" The voice shouted, almost loudly that some customers could hear. But it didn't stop me from retreating down the steps, ignoring every single shout that would come right after. "Dez, just give me my writing—."

And it was at that moment, that I heard a harsh thump fall onto the ground. Almost heavy, and rough even, which caused my feet to turn fast, just to check what happened to my crazy, best friend. It was a large smile that stretched across my face when I saw him silently snoring on the ground, probably excruciatingly tired from all of the work. I made no hesitant response, and picked him up over my shoulder, as heavy as he was, and made my way normally out of the music room.

It wasn't until Ally gave me a frazzled look, that I realized it was sort of unusual. "What are you doing?"

"Taking Austin home." I simply said, before the blond that was up top my shoulder, mumbled something in gibberish. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing." She grinned uncomfortably, as if to say that we should go before people start starring.

"Where am I?" The groggy boy mumbled, trying to lift himself off me, but he just lazily fell again, and let his head hang. His voice was unrecognizable, due to the sleep interference, and the tired statement he made right after only proved his exhaustion. "Who are you talking to?"

I only turned to give him a response, noticing how heavy he was starting to get.

"Hi Ally." I felt a weak smile cross his face, or well, imagined, before I made my way to the exit of the music store. "Why is she getting so small?"

He must be really tired.

Weeks, and weeks past after that, and it became about time for the Miami Music Festival Show.

The colorful, vibrant, and almost insanely hard to get in to, show of the year. Everyone who was someone was going to be there, and if we know Trish, she was also going to be there. We just couldn't trust that she was going to be there though, we didn't know, and we didn't want to assume. Ally and I.

Austin's heart would break if she wasn't there. He needs her to be there. I know he does, so we made sure to ask around, if anyone saw Trish getting tickets or anything, seeing as she's highly popular in the small Miami city. But no one said they saw her, so our doubts started to kick in, we didn't want to tell Austin that the girl he loves, won't be here to hear her song. Trish won't be here to hear him sing that he loves her and he's sorry, or that he's at least spent a whole month with insomnia because of her. She won't be here to hear the truth.

It kills me to know that, because that's all Austin wants.

He wants to shout his love for the small, frizzy, round girl. That's all he ever wanted, and I remember when that's all I ever wanted. I remember when I just wanted Ally to know that I love her, and when I wanted to sing my heart to the top of my lungs. I remember. I always have. And that's all Austin wants, he wants to tell her that he loves her and only her. But, she won't be here to hear that, and I can just imagine if Ally wasn't there to ever hear that I love her too, I can just feel the small sting in my chest.

I don't want that for Austin.

So, I text her, short and simple, because if she's not coming, I'm going to make sure she knows she knows she should be coming.

From: Dez

To: Trish

Miami Music Festival Show. Be there. Or watch it. Or do both. Or whatever. Just don't ignore it.

I hope she sees, I really do, and it worries me that she might not have. But I just hope for the best, because Austin deserves the best, and anyone who's not going to give him that, doesn't deserve him.

Anyway, we're backstage, and we really can't see if Trish is here or not, but I guess it's for the better. Ally would get a little crazy if she can't find her, and tell Austin to call it off, and sing another song in hopes of not getting him to place his heart on his sleeve for no one, which I agree to. But, I don't think it's still the right thing to do, because even if Trish doesn't see, at least he tried and at least he knows he deserves better.

He always has, looking at him now, I think he knows that. He was practically born for the stage and I guess that's why he's Austin Moon, but I've never seen him nervous and, when I catch him, that's what he is. His hands are jittery and he's bouncing on his feet, playing with the microphone, and breathing a little too rapidly. I can almost feel the anxiety. Ally even notices, and walks over towards him, giving him a few words while hugging him in encouragement, it knocks me off in surprise.

Austin can't be nervous. He hardly is, and he's literally performed everywhere.

Waiting until Ally finishes, I sigh, and walk over to my best friend. He's going to be on in two minutes, and I can feel the heavy unease.

"You okay?" I pat him on the shoulder, trying to be as soft as ever.

"No, Dez, no," he breathes, and his voice cracks, "I can't do this. I'm going back home, I can't do this."

"Austin," I stop him from leaving, "you're not going back home. I'm not going to let you go back home. Especially because you're scared, Austin Moon is never scared, Austin Moon was born to the opposite of scared, which I don't know exactly what it is, but it's something," My foot taps trying to remember, but when he coughs a little, I decide it doesn't matter, "anyway, you need to get on that stage and show Trish exactly what she's missing and exactly what you feel. You are not going home because you're scared, scared isn't you."

"But, Dez, I've never done this, okay? I've never put my heart so-out-there, that I can feel other people's hands on it. I've never done it, and I'm not ready to start now. They can judge someone's else hearts and thoughts, but not mine." He takes a giant breath, shaking as he does, the heart beating in his chest louder then the music playing outside.

"Well, you know what, Austin?" I place my hand on his back, "When you love someone, the only place your heart can go, is in someone's else hand." And lightly, but as strong as I can, I push him onto the curtains that reveal the stage.

Changing my view from the curtains, I look over to the small television, that reveals a blond anxiously walking over to the middle of the stage. His hands are fumbling, and he drops his mic, but after a second of coughing and shuffling, he's good to go.

"Hi, I'm Austin Moon." His eyes go wide, like the eyes of a puppy. It makes me want to almost go out there and save him, but when I feel Ally's hands on my mine, I remember to just be strong and hope for the best. "This is, sort of, a new song I wrote. It's for a girl."

The crowd practically awe's loudly, taken to the fact that any guy who sings to a girl is considered sweet. Just like Bruno Mars or whatever, even if I feel as though Bruno Mars is slightly better then my best friend, no offense.

"Uh," he laughs, "bring out the guitar."

I quickly loosen my grasp from Ally, and hurry over towards where the guitar is planted, running over to the blond on the stage. He's got a hopeful look on his face and I almost feel like congratulating him for being this courageous, but I stop myself, and just pat him on the shoulder, before leaving the blinding, stage lights. And returning to Ally's tight, but comforting grasp, because of the anxiety that Austin is making.

He swings his guitar around and places his mic in, smiling charmingly like I've taught him. "This is for Trish. I hope you're here."

And eventually, and finally, he starts to sing like he's been doing for the past three weeks.

You're really stubborn, aren't you?

Saying you don't love me too

The guitar strums softly, as the lights illuminate onto him, filling silhouettes onto the stage. He's nervous still, you can feel it, but it doesn't hurt a single note or key that he's sung. It's just on the ends of his fingers, trying to shake off.

And I guess that's okay,

'cause any day with you is great,

His eyebrows lift, as if he was just joking around with the crowd, already feeling at ease. His hands land on the microphone for a moment, before they touch the guitar strings softly, and almost lightly, as if strumming them any hard would cause the song to be over.

But I guess that that's the problem,

His eyes close, just as he holds the high notes, gentle and light enough for the ears, almost inviting.

Cause you don't want to come around

Austin strums a little harder now, picking up the pre-chorus just a little, and just in the right touch. You feel as though he's alone in the festival, and no one's here.

And I love you like no other,

His hands are clutching the guitar, and the knuckles are pale, and white, because of just how hard he's holding it. Strumming, and playing, and there's no edge of a lie in there. It's all him, all Austin Moon, and all his heart on everyone's else hand.

But I should have told you sooner

The lights begin to swirl across the stage, and he plays a little faster, just enough to pick up the crowd. Just to get everyone excited, about the chorus that's coming, like sweeping adrenaline off it's feet.

Hey, but that's okay,

you're stubborn anyway,

Hey, but that's okay,

you're stubborn anyway,

He stops playing for a second, leaning into the microphone and grinning like if it was the best time of his life. Like if, even if Trish wasn't here anyway, this would still be one of the greatest days of his life.

and I guess that's why I love you,

And just like that, he starts playing again and the chorus ends, and the whole crowd goes crazy. The song isn't even finished yet, but they seem to love it, even Ally tightens around my arm and squeals like a little girl. Or, well perhaps a teenage fan-girl, I don't really know. But, the look Austin gives the crowd and the smile that comes after, makes me think that maybe it's okay if Trish isn't here. He's happy, and the spotlight doesn't flicker off him for a moment. He was born to shine.

He's Austin Moon.

Once Austin finishes, the crowd applauds, and literally begs him to do an encore of another song. Better Together.

But anyway, he walks off the stage and into the curtains in excitement, bubbling up with a thousand words, as his dark, brown eyes flash with joy. He's got his guitar in his hand, and his mic in another, but it doesn't stop the hug he gives me and Ally. We thought it would end differently, and negatively, but we what we did do right was hope for the best and the best, is what we got. The performance was amazing, and people are already in talks of inviting him to next years festival. It's almost a dream come true, well, for Austin.

But his eyes, shut for a second, and in a whisper he says. "She wasn't here, was she?"

I don't know what to say, because I don't know. And Ally tries to sputter in protest, because she also doesn't know, but she just shrugs and falls against me meekly. Her eyes wide, and worried, and even slightly ashamed. I can't make her feel any better, if I don't feel any better either.

"I should've known." He says, losing his smile, "but it's okay. It doesn't matter. I rocked the stage."

It took us a while to believe him, but we slumped our shoulders, glancing at each other and decided to give him another hug. It wasn't until we saw a familiar frizzy-haired girl behind him, that our stance froze.

"What?" He asks, noticing how we won't let him go, but we're stuck in our frozen stance.

"She is here." Trish says, planting her hands on her hips. "You guys actually thought I wouldn't be at the Miami Music Festival Show?" Her hands loosen onto her sides, "what is wrong with you?"

Austin takes a while to process that she's behind him, probably confused, and in denial, but he lets us go anyway. His eyes fallen, and his head hung low, as if he finds it shameful that he thought she wouldn't be. Fiddling with his hands, like I always do, and not sure of what to say. "Hey Trish," he turns around, finally willing to look at her.

Ally squeals lightly, while clutching onto my wrist for support. If being a boyfriend means handling squealing behavior, I think I like it.

"Hey, Trish," she mocks, placing her hand on her chest, "is that all you're going to say?" He shuffles nervously, probably not prepared for this. "You sang in front of a thousand people for me, and we're willing to write a song for me, and say you love me, but you can't talk to me." Her eyes roll, before she fakes a scoff, quirking her hip upwards.

"Uh—." He tries, before she shakes her head, and kisses him before he can finish.

Her feet at the tips and her head leaned up forward, grabbing Austin downward in order to reach him. As they kissed for what seemed like hours, Austin eventually clutched the back of her closer, just enough to help her a little bit and press her closer. I almost wanted to "awh", but then I realize how weird that would sound, so Ally basically did it for me, squealing once again.

I guess everything did turn out alright.

I'm sitting at the edge of the stage, as they take down what seems to be the rest of the festival.

No one's here anymore, except Team Austin, all perched up next to me. Of course, Trish and Austin holding hands, and Ally's hands in mine. But, honestly, I just can't believe we got this far, all together, all with one singer, and one writer, and one manager, and of course, one filmmaker. It all scares me, because it all ended really quickly. But, well, you know what they say, it's not the end, it's just the beginning or, it's end to a new beginning or something like that, I'm not sure what to call it.

But, I guess I don't need to have a name for it.

"Hey, freckle-face," Trish shouts, interrupting my thoughts, "we're leaving."

"Trish, don't call him that." Ally says, shaking her head as she does, lifting her feet onto the stage. She's got a pretty big grin, yet you can see the serious glint in her eyes, when she turns to look at Trish. "He's my boyfriend now, you can't call him that."

"Well, what am I supposed to call him?" She retorts, grabbing Austin's hand in hers, before they both stand up, only leaving me sitting.

"Uh, well, I think Dez fits him." Austin jokes, flashing a smile at his new girlfriend.

"Shush, honey," Trish's finger collides with Austin's mouth, "you're opinion doesn't count if I disagree."

His face falls as soon as she finishes, probably disappointed that Trish is treating me this way. Even if before this, it's always been a recurring problem. But, it quickly changes from frown to a smile, when he holds her hand in his, before he tells her. "You called me honey."

"Yeah, and?" She nods in question.

"I like that." His smile closes, and you can no longer see his teeth, but you feel as though he's happier then he was. Before, Trish and him, walk away into the curtains and well, I'm guessing they're heading off, so we should too.

But, as soon as I try to make my way off the stage, to which I'm perched on. Ally stops me, and tells me in a hushed, and innocent tone. "You haven't heard my song yet."

And I think to myself, when did things get this great?

AN: Thank you time!

I just want to thank all of you who reviewed continually, and never stopped. You guys were amazing, especially those who reviewed every single chapter (ahem: Tesha14 and musicnotes093). You guys were awesome and dedicated and never failed to review and submit constructive criticism. I'm super thankful to have had such sweet reviewers and followers. Especially followers, you guys who alerted me and my story, are awesome and I hope you remember I will be doing a sequel, so it's you guys who get the win in this, if you alerted me. If you didn't, I would suggest you to if you want to see my Dally sequel, but you don't have to.

Thank you all, all, even those who did not review. You guys were spectacular.