A/N: Last chapter, lovely readers! As per usual, let me know what you think!

"I hope you don't mind,

I hope you don't mind,

that I put down into words,

how wonderful life is,

when you're in the world."

-Elton John

Dez lets himself into Austin's apartment two weeks after New Years and winces. His best friend has been running on autopilot, recording songs mechanically and going home right after. Ally's been markedly absent from the studio; her papers are still strewn everywhere and her mug sits in its usual place next to the coffeemaker, but the girl herself hasn't come in since December, and she's been ignoring everyone's calls. He knows it's not accident that Austin's slump and Ally's absence just happen to coincide, but Austin's been reluctant to talk and Dez hasn't wanted to push. According to Trish, Ally's been just as tight-lipped; he and Ally's best friend have been having lunch pretty regularly, and the only thing she knows is that Ally is equally miserable without Austin.

The boy in question is sitting on the couch disconsolately, guitar in hand, plucking the harmony to a vaguely familiar song (Is that Van Morrison?) when Dez walks in. Scattered across the coffee table are sheets of music and receipts from The Beanery with Ally's handwriting on the back, tucked under plates of half-eaten pancakes and a cookbook flipped open to a recipe for waffles.

"You look terrible."

Austin looks up as he hears his best friend's voice.

"Hey Dez."

Dez pats his shoulder sympathetically. "You look like a kangaroo motorcycle gang ran over you on their way to a marshmallow convention."

Austin doesn't even blink at the observation, just strums a few more chords. "Pretty accurate."

"So what happened."

"Nothing happened. She just-I don't know. She walked away from me. From us." Austin sets his guitar on the ground and stares at his hands. "And I don't know what to do."

"Well, not this, that's for sure."

"What?" Austin's voice is taken aback.

"You're Austin Moon. You're telling me you haven't learned anything from all those romance movies you watch? What about the grand gesture? Sweeping the girl off her feet?" Dez asks, waving his arms wildly. "How many times do you see Tom Hanks moping on his couch, or Ryan Gosling brooding over his guitar?"

Austin runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "You don't understand, Dez. I kissed her and I told her I wanted to be with her and she just left. Just turned around and walked away."

"And you didn't follow her?"

"I didn't think she wanted me to."

"And you were scared."

Austin explodes. "Of course I was scared. I'm still scared. I see her everywhere, Dez. I see her in the music I sing and the songs I write. I see her in the mugs at the studio, our table at The Beanery, the cardigan she left at my apartment. I can't hear a song without thinking about how she'd sing it, how she'd make it better, I can't eat pancakes without remembering that she likes waffles, and I can't get her out of my head." He takes a breath. "She gets me like no one I've ever met. And I miss her. But I kissed her and now we can't go back to the way we were."

"Maybe she's scared too, Austin." Dez says gently.

"Maybe."

"And isn't she worth fighting for?"

"I-" Austin pauses. "Yes." There's a light in his eyes as he stands. "Dez, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think you might be a love whisperer or something."

"The love whisperer." Dez repeats. "I like it." Than he claps Austin on the back. "So. You going to go get the girl?"

Ally's sitting in her apartment, frowning at her watery coffee. She's been avoiding Austin, staying as close to her apartment as possible, which also means her daily caffeine options are pretty limited.

It's been over three weeks since the launch party, and she's been talking herself in circles. She knows that avoiding Austin is the last thing she should be doing, and she misses him terribly, but she doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know how to fix things. She knows she's fallen for him, knows it with the constancy of music, with the familiarity of her favorite song, knows it like she knows good coffee and the lyrics to Brown-Eyed Girl. But she's worried about the impermanence of a changing relationship, and she doesn't know if their partnership can grow to include all that he means to her. All that she thinks she might mean to him.

She sighs and walks to the sink, tipping her coffee down the drain. She misses hazelnut lattes and Austin's smile and the Beanery guitar-piano harmonies and her mug old music and radio static.

There's a stack of mail on the counter that she's put off sorting through for a few days now. It's surprising that Trish hasn't touched it, but her best friend has been giving Ally the time and space she asked for, and she loves her for it.

"Rent, ads, insurance..." She murmurs as she flips through the envelopes. Then her heart stops. There's an envelope with her name scrawled across it in familiar handwriting, no return address. She unseals carefully. Inside, there's a short note and a CD case.

Thinking of you.

The case is copy of Austin's completed album. Ally opens it with shaking hands. She's listed as collaborating songwriter on every track, even the ones she barely edited. She chokes back a teary laugh when she sees the dedication.

"To Ally D;

'Do you remember when we used to sing

Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah

just like that.'

You are my new inspiration.

Always,

Austin.

Ally drops the CD on the kitchen counter with a clatter. Then in a flurry of motion, she's tugging on her jacket and stumbling into shoes and sprinting out the door.

Austin's making pancakes and waiting for Dez to come over to talk about publicity for his album, when the doorbell rings.

"Dez, you have a key." He yells. There's no answer. He turns the stove off and walks towards the door. He swings it open, expecting his red-headed best friend.

"You know you can just let yourself in, ri-Ally?"

"Ally?"

"Hi." She smiles weakly.

"I didn't think it was you." Austin says numbly.

"I got your note."

"Yeah?"

Ally nods, and Austin shifts uneasily. She's here, but it's been a week since he sent her the album and he's not sure what to do. Not sure what she wants, what she's thinking, not sure if he's allowed to reach out and tug her into his arms: if he's allowed to do anything besides stand there and wait. So he waits.

Ally takes a nervous breath. "Before you close the door, just hear me out."

Austin's expression is unreadable, and Ally starts talking before she loses her nerve.

"When we first met, I was worried about letting you into my life. I thought you'd be another rockstar with empty promises and broken music, all bluster and apathy and wasted potential. But you weren't. Then you turned my world upside down with your pancakes and spontaneity, your hopeless romanticism, the way you throw yourself so fully into everything you do. I didn't even grasp that I was falling for you, until I found myself smack dab in the middle of it. And it was terrifying." She pauses. "But the only thing that scared me more than falling for you was realizing that you'd fallen for me too."

"Why?" It's the first thing Austin's said since he opened the door, and his face is still inscrutable. Ally blinks back tears as she looks down.

"Because it made us a possibility: something to take a chance on. And I'm not good at taking chances." Ally's voice tightens. "But these past few days reminded me that more than anything else, you taught me how to be fearless. How to jump all in with my eyes closed and my heart open." She takes a steadying breath. "I want to take a chance on this. On us."

There's a long silence as the blond boy locks eyes with the brunette girl, caught on opposite sides of a doorway three feet wide and two heartbeats deep. It stretches on until Ally finally tries to reach Austin one last time, swallowing back the fear that it's already too late.

"Falling for you; it was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were supposed to be together. I knew it." She sees Austin's eyes widen at the reference, and continues, hoping he understands what she's trying to say. "And it's not because I'm lonely and it's not because it's January seventeenth. Because in the end, I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy. Not saying that you complete me, because I know who I am without you, and I know who you are without me, and I like both those people. And I'm not asking you to love me, either. Not yet."

She drops her gaze to her hands, twisting her fingers together. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that we're not Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant. This isn't Seattle, you didn't build me a telescope or write me three hundred and sixty five letters. You're not Harry and I'm not Sally, and you're not a bad boy to my good girl, or a jock to my nerd, and I'm not dying of tuberculosis on a cabaret stage." Then she looks up at Austin with hopeful, questioning eyes. "But if you're a bird, I'm a bird. If this ship sinks, I'll always make room for you on my life raft. And in the end, or the beginning, or whatever this is right now; I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, saying 'Let's take on the world together.'"

A smile stretches slowly across Austin's face.

"You watched them?"

Ally shrugs nonchalantly, but she can't suppress the relief in her response.

"What can I say? No one can resist the call of Hugh Grant. And Sleepless in Seattle was free on Netflix." She whooshes out a breath. "And then I might have missed you and your ridiculous movie quotes."

Austin's grin lights the entire hallway. "I think your version is my new favorite."

Then Ally's jumping up to wrap her arms around his shoulders and his hands are circling her waist, and he's spinning them in giddy circles. There's rambling apologies from both of them, Austin burying his nose in Ally's hair, and laughter: full and bright, real and wonderful.

And in the center of it all, there's just the two of them. A boy and a girl, and a forever song.

Ze end! I've been wanting to try out a high-school-centric Auslly, and I've been mulling over a few other things, but as of yet, nothing's concrete, so I think I might slip back into haitus for NaNoWriMo and exam reasons, unless a sudden muse/request strikes my fancy. Y'all have been a wonderful audience, and I hope you know how much I appreciate each and every one of your reviews. Thank you.