"As Infinite As The Universe We Hold Inside"

by: singyourmelody

Disclaimer: Title is from "Sun" and heading below is from "Page 28" both by Sleeping at Last, both amazing songs. Don't own Austin & Ally or any of the characters. This is after the season three finale. They certainly know how to end things, don't they? And really, I couldn't just leave it there. . .

|| i'm trusting that there's such a thing as elegance in dissonance ||

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He's snoring softly from the bunk next to hers.

It's that night.

The one where he grabbed his music career with both hands and threw it away as hard as he could. For her. For them.

She chokes down that panicking feeling that seems to come creeping up every time she thinks of what he's done. This was his dream. She's ruined his dream.

But then. . . I love you, Ally.

I love you, too, Austin.

She bites back a smile. He loves her.

He loves her and she is headed off on her first major tour and all of her dreams are coming true.

He mumbles something and she can hear him tossing and turning a bit, her throat constricting as that feeling rises again.

He chose her over everything. And what now?

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She's slightly terrified before her first show, because it's in this big concert hall and she's never sung for quite this many people before and what if she forgets the chord progression for The Me That You Don't See because even though she's played it thousands of times, she hasn't practiced it in a while and proper preparation always prevents poor performance and she can't perform poorly for these people, she just can't.

He laughs when she tells him all this, his hands rubbing up and down her arms.

"Ally, breathe."

She exhales loudly and he smiles at her and maybe that's all she needs. He believes in her so she believes too.

She plays the song flawlessly of course and he winks at her from the side of the stage and her heart may stop for just a moment, because she might be standing in the middle of the rest of her life. And how does it all feel?

Later, she curls up next to him on the couch and his thumb draws circular patterns over her fuzzy pajama-bottomed knees, while they research fun things to do in Montgomery, Alabama, their next stop.

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His phone starts ringing a lot. He always steps out to take the call.

She knows it's his lawyer and that he's trying so hard to keep all of this stuff out of her tour, but she wants to know. She's his girlfriend. She's worried about him, about them really.

It's stupid, she knows this, but music was always their thing and if they don't sing and write together then what do they do?

Who are they then?

He loves music. And she loves him. She desperately wants to find a way to get him back into it, wants him to have what he loves.

She looks at him questioning when he gets back on the bus.

"Tom, again," he says, sitting next to her.

"What did he say?"

"They are still sorting through all of the details. Nothing new to report," he says.

"I don't understand why Jimmy is being so crazy about this," she says.

"It's not that I told everyone about us. It's that I directly defied what he told me to do. At least that's what Tom thinks," he replies, picking at a thread on his hoodie sleeve.

"So it's better for you to have no fans, then to lose a few because you told about me?" she asks.

"I guess."

When he looks up at her, he looks sad and maybe even a little scared. And she hates that she made him feel this way, that she took away the thing he loves most. Well, second most.

Maybe that's what she should be the most sorry for. Not that she stole away his musical dream, but that she let things get so far between the two of them that she ended up replacing his dream. That she let things progress to the point where really, they can't live without the other. Wouldn't want to.

And that's supposed to be beautiful and amazing and the things they write novels about, but it feels marred somehow. Fractured. A stained glass window, so delicate and colorful and intricately created to form a striking picture, smashed with a small rock, leaving pieces lying on the cold ground. And what's left is still beautiful somehow, despite the shards of glass and sharp edges and the potential for so much harm, because the light shines through creating bright, dancing shadows.

Broken, dancing, vibrant shadows. Is that what they have become now?

He reaches up and brushes some hair behind her ear and her eyes flutter closed.

"I hate this," she says softly.

He pulls his hand back. "What?"

She opens her eyes. "I hate what is happening to you."

He shrugs. "I chose this."

But she shakes her head. "I didn't ask you to."

His eyes flash angrily for a quick moment, before his composure slides back in place. "What do you mean?"

"I never wanted you to be unhappy."

He nods. "It takes a lot more than just music to make me happy, Ally."

"But everything you've worked for, what we worked for, is gone," she says.

And he shrugs again. "It wasn't even a choice."

She knows this should make her feel good. That she matters more than anything, but deep down, she also wonders if she can ever be enough for him. If it's even fair to ask herself to be.

"You wanna know why?" he continues, inching closer to her.

"Why?"

He reaches forward and quickly brushes his lips against hers. "Because when you kiss me, I know it's not a choice."

"And when our fingers interlock like this," he says, joining their hands, "I know it's not a choice."

He pulls her closer. "And when I can hold you like this, and you fit perfectly up against me, I know it's not a choice."

She looks up at him then, as he continues. "You're it, Ally. You've always been it. You'll always be it. And I know it's probably crazy or stupid or ridiculous to say that because we're seventeen, but it's true. I'm never going to get over you. And I don't want to. There's no choice. It's you. Before everything."

She looks down to try to keep her tears in because she doesn't want to cry. Happy tears, sad tears, she's not even sure of anything other how much her heart feels like it might explode. She kisses him then and doesn't stop for a long while.

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City after city passes and she's become accustomed to the white lines rushing past the windows of the bus.

And she's knows certain things now. Like the way his hair sticks up when he first wakes up and the soft lull of his voice as the last thing she hears before she goes to sleep and the way she shivers when his lips ghost over the back of her neck in her dressing room.

He's always with her. And on some level it's overwhelming, because it's always been Austin and Ally, but it's never been only Austin and Ally. It's always been Trish and Dez and her dad and Carrie and Kira and his parents but now. Now it's just him and it's just her and he chose her. She is having a hard time remembering anything other than this when his fingers are doing that certain thing to her scalp and her hands are somehow under his shirt and she knows she really shouldn't take it off, that they are treading very close to dangerous territory because they are finally stable for the first time in their relationship, although honestly, even that could be questioned and really they need to stop.

He pulls away from her.

"What?" she asks.

"You're right. We should probably stop."

"Huh?"

"You just said we need to stop," he says.

"Oh, uh, right. . . I don't want to," she says, quietly, after a moment.

He breathes out and smiles. "Me either," he says, his voice soft.

"Really?"

"Ally, are you kidding me? I am alone with you twenty-four seven. You have no idea of how hard it is to not like jump you every five seconds," he says, his cheeks turning pink, his eyes cast down.

She reaches over and moves his head so that he is looking at her. "Don't be embarrassed, okay? We need to talk about this stuff. I actually like that I feel like I can talk to you about it."

He nods. "So . . . boundaries."

"Boundaries."

"No more walking through the bus in your towel," he begins.

"What? You do that all the time!" she says.

"So tell me to stop."

"Stop. If I have to stop, then so do you," she states.

"Fine, I will."

"Good."

"Good. So no towels. What else?" he asks.

She thinks for a moment, but he interrupts, saying, "Can I also veto the short-shorts?"

"My sleeping shorts?"

He nods. "Yeah, those really need to go."

"I love those shorts! They're so comfortable," she insists.

"Yeah, because they are barely there," he states.

She scrunches up her face before saying, "Fine. I'll get rid of them."

"What else?" he asks.

"Are you waiting until you're married?" she says, before she can even process the words. Her eyes grow wide. So do his.

"Um, I don't know. Are you?"

"I thought I was. But now. . ."

He leans his head back and groans.

"What?" she asks, punching his arm gently.

"You can't tell me this stuff," he says.

"What? Why? I thought we were being honest with each other."

"We are. But. . ."

"But what?" she says, crossing her arms expectantly.

He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again. He tries a second time but no words come out.

Finally, he says, "You and I really need to get on the same page about this."

She can tell that's not what he really wanted to say.

"Okay, but really are we even at that point yet?" she asks.

"Aren't we?" he questions and she thinks back to just the night before when she might have been in his lap, her legs on either side of his and his hands were running up and down her back and she never wanted to be anywhere else ever and okay, maybe he has a point.

"Do you think we're ready?" she says.

"Yes. And no."

"Which is it?"

"I don't know. When I think about it, it's definitely a no. But when you kiss me like that and there's nobody but me and you and I don't know. In those moments, it feels like a yes," he says.

She nods. "I know what you mean. But you're right. If we really think about it for just a moment, it's a no, right?"

He nods.

"Then we're not ready. Not really," she says.

"I agree."

"Okay, so we need to stop somewhere before things get too out of hand. But where is that place exactly?" she asks.

He smirks. "How about you stay on that side of the bus and I'll stay over here?"

"Oh, really? You think you'll be able to resist?"

"Definitely. You don't have all of the power over me, Miss Dawson," he says.

"Just enough to get you to give up your music career," she says, smirking, his face falling as her words shower over him. She stutters. "Oh, Austin, I didn't mean that. Not like that, I was just. . ."

But he shakes his head. "You're right. You do have the power, Ally." He stands up. "I'm gonna go to sleep."

"Austin, wait, please," she says, but he disappears into the bathroom, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

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He still talks to her but it's not the same.

And this is what she feared, isn't it?

That this boy that she loves more than anything would grow to resent her for giving it all up.

He still talks to her but it's not the same. There's something below his words and maybe she's imagining it all, but she hopes and prays it's not the thing she fears it is.

Because she's not ready to let go of this yet, isn't ready to let go of him yet. And maybe that makes her selfish, but her love for him isn't, she just knows it.

After three days of strained conversation, she pulls him on stage to sing with her for her encore. He looks shocked and a little worried at first and she hopes they're not breaking any laws because neither of them would do well in prison, but this is their music, their passion, their relationship spelled out in rhyming lyrics and floating melodies. How can anyone not want this for them?

They harmonize together perfectly, they always have, and the crowd in St. Louis absolutely loves it.

He hugs her backstage and she thinks maybe she is forgiven for her careless words.

"I love you," she whispers in his ear. "And we are going to find a way for you to get back onstage."

He nods. "I love you too."

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He gets the call the next day. Jimmy's seen the video of them singing and really, they should have known they couldn't sing together without someone putting it online.

The conference call is heated and he asked her for some privacy for it, but she can still hear both of them yelling from her position perched on a picnic table outside of the bus.

It's silent for a few moments, so she cautiously enters the bus.

He looks frustrated. And angry. And sad.

"Well?"

"No more public appearances on another label's tour," he says.

"What does that mean?" she asks.

"No more-"

"Singing," she finishes. "I am so sorry, Austin, I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

But he shakes his head. "I just don't understand why he can't forgive me. I freaking broke up with his daughter and he got over that. But this, this is unforgivable? Why?" he asks.

She doesn't have an answer.

"I asked him about the next ten years. He owns me for the next ten years and what? I'm just not supposed to date anyone for that time?" he continues.

"What did he say?"

"Not for five. At least not seriously. Something about my target market and aging with them and doing activities that are age-appropriate for them. . ."

"Five years from now, you'll be twenty-two. You're not supposed to seriously date anyone until you're twenty-two?" she asks.

He nods. "And that's a pretty big problem since I met you when I was fifteen. You and I waited long enough. I didn't want to wait anymore. I don't want to wait anymore."

She pulls him close and he holds onto her so tightly, as if she might be taken away from him, just like the career he worked so hard to create.

And in that moment she feels like everything he has. And she realizes that she is.

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|| End of Part One||