Smoothies, Cigarettes, & Alcohol.

Grin and bear it. That's a thing, isn't it? Alan's never fully understood it, until he had to actually grin and bear it. He used to think it was just a phrase that people used when they were being overdramatic, or something. He never once thought that he would have to actually go through said actions because he's fucking heartbroken and he has to act tough in front of his family and his mates.

He doesn't actually have to be tough and pretend like he isn't absolutely heartbroken, but like. It's not like him to parade around with his heart on his sleeve. So he's just going to keep pretending like everything's okay, until someone eventually realises that he's not okay, and it's not alright (if anyone even does care enough to realise as much).

Thing is, though. She's there. She is right there, and she is looking at him, and for fuck's sake, (cheesy pop song reference aside) she looks so perfect standing there. It's so goddamn annoying because it's the first time that he's left the comfort of Austin's spare room and house, in general, in five days, and Maddie is there.

Alan should've expected it, though, seeing as how they've got the same group of mates. One of his old friends, who, now that he thinks about it – was probably friends with Maddie first – had called him up, saying that now that he was back in town, they should go out as a big group – hit the club, or something. Have fun. Drink. Dance. Catch up (or at least, attempt to over the pulsating music). Alan went, 'yeah, why not?', since he hadn't seen them in ages. He just kind of forgot that Maddie would probably be there.

The same Maddie that cheated on him. The same Maddie that had been calling and texting him almost relentlessly. The same Maddie that was just looking at him as he tried to make small talk with other people there.

Surprisingly, none of the others had noticed that Alan was making a conscious effort to stay away from Maddie. Whenever she tried to corner him, get him to talk to her, he effortlessly slid away and started pointless, casual conversation with anyone in close vicinity.

And it's after almost two hours of this thing that Alan finally decides he can't take it anymore. Goes to the bar, where one of their friends is sitting, chatting a girl up. "Hey," he says, tapping the bloke on the shoulder lightly, shooting an effortless grin at the lady he was previously chatting up (and it's scary how easy it is for him to pull that charming grin of his even though he feels dead inside). "M'gonna head back."

"The night's still young, bro," he frowns at the ginger.

Alan just shrugs, running his fingers through his hair, "I've got stuff to do. Sorry, man. Next time, though. Drinks on me."

"Can't argue with that," he grins. "See ya, man," he nods at Alan before turning his attention back to the lady.

Alan manages a chuckle, shaking his head fondly at the bloke before he's stuffing his hands into his pockets and walking out the club. Not really an ideal place for a gathering and a catch-up session, but they wanted a club and Alan didn't really mind the whole 'loud music and no one can hear anyone else talking' thing. He barely makes it twenty steps away before there's a female voice calling his name.

And it's not a fan. He knows this because he knows the voice. It's Maddie. Of course it is.

Alan sighs heavily, turning his head to the side just as she comes jogging up to him and standing beside him. She quickens his pace so that she's in front of him, then she's holding out a hand so that she's stopping him from walking and completely ignoring her presence. "Alan, please," she says and Alan wants so badly to roll his eyes, but he also kind of wants to hug her, so.

He sighs again, finally looking at her, "What?" He mumbles eventually, after a moment of them just looking at each other and him waiting for her to continue talking about whatever she wanted to talk about – considering the countless number of times she's tried to get in touch with him. He doesn't even want to pick a fight because he's so tired and he just wants to go back and write sad songs and smoke too many cigarettes and drink too much alcohol.

"Talk to me," she practically begs, wide eyes staring up at him. "Please, Alan. Just... talk to me."

Alan shrugs, "There's nothing to say."

"I have things to say," Maddie says, determination in her tone. Alan just raises a brow. Nods for her to carry on saying whatever she wanted to say. She clears her throat, "Look. I know – I know I fucked up. I fucked up bad, and, like, I know that, yeah? But it's just. I was so lonely and you weren't coming home for fuck knows how long. And even when you were home, it's like you weren't because you were always out writing and recording. And I just – " her voice cracks, and she shakes her head, running her slender fingers through her dark hair. "– I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you, okay? I love you so much and – t-this can't be the end. This can't be the end, Alan."

Alan's eyes dart across her face. Fucking hates how she's still so beautiful to him even when it's dark out and she's distraught and stray tears are running down her cheeks, as slowly as they go. "You don't," he finally says, after it feels like he's been silent for so long.

Maddie blinks, "W-what?"

"You don't," he repeats. "You don't love me," he elaborates then. "You don't love me, because if you did – then you would've known that I was coming back for you. That I was always going to come back to you. You would've stuck around because you know that I was all yours, somehow, and that months away from you did nothing to lessen my affection towards you. But, I mean, I get it. I'm not around enough," he shrugs, smiling humourlessly. "M'not good enough for you, and I'm okay with that. I guess. And I love you, yeah, but I'm sorry, too, because this – " Alan gestures at the small space between them, "– this is never happening again. Not anytime soon, at least."

Maddie stares at him, lips parted and eyes watering even more. She opens her mouth to say something, but then seemingly decides against it – for she shuts her mouth and just looks at him.

Alan stuffs one hand back into the front pocket of his jeans, using the other to awkwardly pat her shoulder. "I'll come get my stuff soon," is the last thing he says, then he's walking away.

He doesn't turn back once, because he meant what he said. Alan and Maddie are never going to be a thing again. He's learned his lesson. Albeit, the hard way, but he still learned it. He should've listened to Austin. Austin was older, wiser, he knew better. Alan... was not, and he did not know better. Austin had told him – fucking told him – that that would happen.

Alan and Maddie hadn't exactly been a perfect couple, but, like, they were two young adults with one of them constantly being gone. They were the type of couple who were on-and-off so often that people had to ask if they were together or not, since no one could ever keep up with their breaking up and then making up.

People – mainly their families and some of their friends – assumed that the whole thing was serious when Alan moved in with Maddie. Alan had still been living with his parents – he was rarely ever home anyways, and he had no time to go apartment hunting and stuff, okay? – and Maddie had an apartment of her own, so he moved in. Things were good, though. Honest. They were a proper couple, maybe getting a tad bit domesticated, and things were as good as they could get.

Life had this personal vendetta against Alan Anthony Ashby, though, so. Okay. Whatever.


"You're back early," Austin says as Alan pushes open the front door.

Alan snorts, "You sound like a dad."

Austin gasps, "Do not!"

"Uh, yeah, you do," Alan laughs lightly. "But, um. Yeah. Maddie was there," he says, and his tone is as casual as can be, but Austin's eyebrows raise high on his forehead as he eyes the younger – as though looking to see if he was going to have a mental breakdown within the next couple of seconds, or something.

"Oh," is all Austin says. Then he nods over to the tele where a film's still playing, "Wanna watch Captain America? I'm not gonna rewind it back to the beginning, though," he grins over at the younger, because he knows him. He knows that the last thing Alan wants is pity. He knows that the easiest way to get Alan to be okay again was to pretend like all was well.

Alan lets out a half-hearted chuckle, "No thanks, man. Think I'm gonna hit the sack," he smiles weakly at the older.

"Yell if you need anything," Austin says absentmindedly, having already turned his gaze back to the tele. But he's not really watching whatever's on the tele, since his eyes are actually focused on the reflection of Alan he can see on the tele.

The younger smiles slightly, nodding to himself before he makes his way up the stairs. Once he's in the safety of his temporary bedroom (till he gets off his arse and finds himself an actual apartment), he slides down to his bum, back against the wall. His face is buried in his hands and he feels like he might cry, but he doesn't. Just tugs violently at his long hair.

"Maddie liked the long hair."

"Shut up," he mumbles out loud, even though the voice that's taunting him is his own. Maddie did like the long hair, but she doesn't fucking matter anymore. So he's going to cut his hair. It's a small action that really should have no impact at all, but it will, because this is step one in letting go and moving on.

Taking in a deep, shaky breath, he gets to his feet; grabs his acoustic by the neck (he had enough clothes for the time being, his laptop, music equipment, and his acoustic. The rest would have to be retrieved, sooner or later, preferably whilst Maddie was out), and proceeds to climb out the window and onto the roof.

He'd never admit it to anyone out loud but Alan was a pretty pensive person. He's the youngest amongst his bandmates and he's usually the random one doing stupid shite, but that's not who he actually is – if that made any sense. More often than not, one could find him in his bunk, earbuds plugged in and whatever band he was in the mood for turned up as loud as possible, thinking, writing. Thinking about everything, thinking about nothing. Writing down his unfiltered thoughts, writing down poems he'd seen and related to.

And it was at times like these that Alan would've been overthinking every little thing in his life. It's time like these that lead to him picking at every tiny flaw he could find in himself, telling himself what made him so imperfect and unloveable. All he was, and always would be, was average. He'd always gotten average grades in school, was of average skill in whatever sports he played, was average at songwriting, and hell – he was only okay at guitar. He loved it, yeah, but he was no John Mayer or John Butler.

Average – that's what he was.

Which was why he couldn't find it in himself to hate Maddie. He was still in love with her (it had only been, like, five days), and as much as he wanted to try and start getting over her, he couldn't. It was always her that brought him a sense of comfort and security and reassurance, and he didn't even have that now.

But, like. He couldn't really blame her, could he? All he was was Alan Ashby – the ginger guitarist in Of Mice & Men. He's not good enough for her, not good enough for anything, really. Average people never are good enough. And average is what Alan is, 'innit?