#alltimelowfanfiction.com

[alltimefanfiction]

RIP alltimelowfanfiction.com

It seems that the ATLFF.com website, attached to Mibba, has expired. Which means we just lost a lot of fics from there. (This also means all the other websites Mibba created for specific fandom fics such as kpopfanfiction.com, bmthfanfiction.com, etc are also dead).

I never personally read fics on there but I know there were quite a few good ones posted to that site and nowhere else.

I feel very sad that we're losing a considerable chunk of All Time Low fic history and there's nothing we can do about it.

-Eve

Very sad to see some of these fics go. Probably should've saved Sin and Nameless Boy Beauty but. Lost but not forgotten. Riiiip.

-Molli

[sarahbethimagines]

CHAPTER ONE: AMNESIA 

I knew I'd been here before. I didn't actually remember ever coming here per say, but when I left the home I was told was mine and started to walk, I seized to actually think for the first time in days. I got lost in myself, not even thinking about much, or anything in particular at all, I just said in my head everything I saw or passed, and I just walked. I watched my shoes as they dragged along the cracked and jagged sidewalk. Acorns, and leaves, and pools of pollen on the side of the road were kicked and crushed under the mud caked plastic tips of my sneakers. And soon the pavement turned into gravel, then dirt, then grass, and suddenly I found myself weaving through a field of knee-high blades and weed stalks till eventually, I found this tree.

 I didn't even think about it, as if I could, and I sat at its base in this curve that seemed to hold my small frame almost too perfectly. For the first time in the past fifty-seven hours, I shut my eyes for a second and took a deep breath. Trying my absolute hardest not to think about anything. Something, if I'd dared to say aloud at home, would cause absolute chaos and confusion. But my head had been throbbing for hours on end, my subconscious tearing through the folds of my brain like a teenage girl in her drawers trying to find the top she'd misplaced, just trying to find anything at all, even the smallest sliver of a memory. And I just couldn't take it anymore. You know that feeling you have when someone asks you a question. Just a simple, easy, mindless question... Like what the name of that movie was. Or what that actor's name was that was really funny. Or what the name was of that TV show used to watch. Or who is the author of that book you liked. Or who wrote that catchy song you heard on the radio. That sensation you get when someone throws such a simple question into the air and suddenly, for just a second, you're filled with excitement because you know the answer! You'd watched that movie not too long ago, and you know exactly which actor they're thinking of. But when you open your mouth, the answer you had in your head so confidently a second ago is gone. And now you're stuck there, wracking your brain for the name of the song you'd just saved to your library, and you can't remember. You'd heard the author's name spoken in class just two periods before, and now you're sitting in the cafeteria, mouth ajar, and absolutely nothing coming out despite having it in your throat a second ago! Suddenly it's like you're in third grade again taking a spelling test and you're drawing a blank. The teacher calls out the word you wrote a hundred times and everyone around you begins to frantically try and scribble it down before she calls out the next one. And you just sit there. Motionless. "Neighbor!" The teacher would repeat again and you look all around you as everyone else in the room knows the answer. And you're sitting at your desk trying to remember the rule of 'I' before 'E' you'd repeated to yourself the whole night before, preparing for that exact moment. You know it. But you can't remember it. Everyone around you knows it, but you have drawn a blank. Just as you did when the kid turned to you and asked you the name of that actor that was in that movie everyone likes because no one can seem to remember his name. You can feel the name on the tip of your tongue, just begging to be said. But when you open your mouth no words come out. All you can do is screw your eyes shut and throw your head back with a grown as you miss the word on the spelling test and set yourself up to second guess yourself every time you have to write the word 'neighbor' for the remainder of your life. That feeling, that tip if the tongue frustration is kind of what it's like. Only on a much, much bigger scale. But if I had to describe what it's like to forget every detail about your entire life. That tip of the tongue feeling, that'd be it. And although I don't remember much, I believe it would be fair to say that it is the single most frustrating feeling on the entire planet. I release my breath and open my eyes, looking out at the large field surrounding me for a second before reaching for my bag. The migraine was still there, ringing through what may as well be an empty skull. But at least now being alone, it had seemed to dilute ever so slightly. I'd silently questioned just enjoying the brief moment of relief, but my fingers rebelled regardless and pulled the small navy notebook from my backpack and placed it on my lap. The reason I use the tip of the tongue phenomenon to describe what I'd been going through is because, just with those actor's names and song titles, eventually it comes back – at least that's what I've understood to be true about my condition. That all I don't remember at this moment will eventually come back to me in spontaneous bits in pieces. Just like everything else I have stored on the tip of my tongue. And the notebook I looked down on now, held everything I'd remembered about myself. Or at the very least was told and decided I did not want to forget. With a sigh and a small breeze to assist me, I pried open the still stiff cover and scanned the scrawled handwriting on the very first page, the only thing around me lately that truly reradiated familiarity as my own. Most of what I'd scribbled down was not much help in trying to piece together what had actually happened to me. But for the most part... None of it made sense. I mean, the facts the doctor's explained to me did, to some extent – and if only on a purely logical level. But that's it, and that's not a lot. I knew my name, my height, my weight, and why I didn't remember who I was beyond that. But everything else was a hazy blur of things that seem familiar or felt like I should remember, and for some ungodly reason just can't. I stared at the page for what felt like hours, as I often caught myself doing over the course of the past few days. And no matter how long or hard I stared at my handwriting on those off-white pages, or how mean a glare I threw the swirled letters, nothing ever seemed to jump out at me. So as always, I slammed the notebook shut, swatted it off my lap and back on top of the bag that lay beside me with a sigh. "I hate this." I muttered aloud as I pulled my knees close to my chest and knotted my nimble fingers in my dried frizzy hair. And I did, hate this that is. There was nothing more frustrating than being shown around a town and a home by the one person you truly did recognize and have to watch the hurt and disappointment fill your parent's eyes as you failed time and time again to remember even one thing they'd done for or with you your entire life. It was killing me inside. And out. I had hardly slept a second since I'd been brought home, too afraid of what may lie inside my bedroom, I'd been sleeping – well trying to at least – on the couch. But that didn't stop my dad from sliding photo albums and picture frames into my lap every free second, he wasn't at work. And as much as I knew inside me I loved him, if I had to look at one more photograph or hear one more story of me at a family Christmas party I was going to explode. At least then I wouldn't have to worry about remembering who I was because I'd be nothing but splattered remains on living room walls... It was annoying, and frustrating, and quite literally painful trying to remember anything at all, even the smallest thing. But I just couldn't! With a heavy exhale I slid my hands from my hair to my face in time to hide the small tear that was trying to escape. I felt completely and utterly trapped in my own memory-less head. And still, I took another deep breath, willing myself to subconsciously piece anything at all from my life back together a thick breeze blew across the back of my hands and through my tangled locks causing bumps to rise over all my exposed skin. Removing my hands, I felt the sunlight slip from my body as tall trees in the distance swayed to hide it away from me. I didn't know for certain how long I'd sat at the curiously familiar tree, but I knew by the sinking sun and darkening sky, it must have been long enough for some form of concern to raise about at home of my whereabouts. I didn't want to go back, I didn't want to have to walk through that door again and look my father right in his large, hopeful eyes and have to find yet another way to tell him nothing new had come back to me. Because finding a tree that I didn't quite remember but somehow still did, while comforting, wasn't the news he was looking for. But still, I couldn't stay there all night. So, clambering to my feet, I shoved the tauntingly empty notebook of 'memories' into my bag, tossed it back over my scrawny shoulder and dusted off my grass covered libs before making my way back through the field in the direction I'd come. Soon the tall grass shrunk in height, and reduced to dirt, then gravel, then back to uneven pavement, and I once again found myself walking a path I seemed to know by heart and yet couldn't remember if I'd genuinely tried. Which of course I had. I couldn't have been more than ten, fifteen minutes from home when I came to a crosswalk on a corner, and for some reason decided to look up at the street sign overhead. But as my eyes slid across the first few white block letters a stabbing pain shot through my skull and I writhed in pain. I shut my eyes and saw flashes of the sign, just flashes at first, then I seemingly fell into the empty laughter that had started to ring from the back of my skull straight to the forefront. "What on earth are you doing now?" I laughed, utterly exasperated as I watched my lanky friend swing around the Westridge Road street sign before he –attempted – to take off running on wobbly knees. The tall boy dared to look back over his shoulder at my trailing form as he staggered on down the empty street. Light and curiosity flared visibly in his golden eyes, even in the near pitch darkness that surrounded him. "Going on an adventure!" he said simply, as though it were supposed to be obvious, before letting out an almost cackling giggle and starting off running again. As fast as his intoxicated limbs could carry his slender frame. "It's always an adventure with you Gaskarth, isn't it..." I muttered almost myself, picking up my own pace to a light jog to catch him. The warm summer breeze whipped around the two of us as he stumbled and staggered down the street. Giggling softly to himself as he stammered to keep from stepping on his own toes, one arm out like a wing as though to balance himself, and the other still clutching an almost empty bottle of UV Blue. The blue toxic liquid ran rampant through both our veins, though was clearly more evident in Alex than myself as I slowed my pace when we reached the home in which he resided. And I watched with awe and amusement as he completely disregarded the three small steps to his door and began to make his way to the side of his porch. "Alexander!" I whispered with a chuckle as he reached up to take hold of the ivy wrapped railing, "What on God's green earth are you doing?" He looked back at me, a toothy grin spreading across his face as he stuck a converse clad food up onto the siding of his home. With the hand still clutching the remnants of the vodka he so did not need, he hushed me. "You have to be quiet Dee!" He hissed before seemingly readjusting his grip, "I'm trying NOT to get caught here!" I let out an almost bellowing laugh as I watched him attempt to hoist himself up onto his own damn porch. I'm sure he would have scolded me for making such a sound, had he not instantly lifted his head into the windchime his mother had hanging. The clinging and clanging of the chimes mixed loudly with my bellowing laughter as I stood on the sidewalk, clutching his rusted mailbox for dear life. I was hooting and hollering at the lanky boy as he sat now straddling his porch railing, rubbing his head with his free hand. A look of utter confusion adorning his face, which of course only made me laugh harder, and my stomach twist tighter. Between the laughter, and 'adventure' and blatant alcohol content swarming through our bodies. I hardly noticed our friend emerge from the house just across the street as I watched Alex swing his second jean-clad leg over the railing and somehow manage to sway into a standing position. And I watched as he did his best to drunkenly compose himself and straighten up the white V-neck that stuck slick to his sticky back. "How drunk is he?" A voice chuckled as I looked to the side to see a familiar brown headed boy smiling at Alex just as amused as I had been the second before. "Well..." I giggled, alcohol flushing my cheeks pink. "He is trying to break into his own home..." We both exchanged small fits of laughter as we watched Alex beginning to try and jimmy the window to his living room open, and surprisingly he managed to do so! Only just in time for the thick mahogany front door to crack and peel open. "Kennedy?" A voice called, snapping me from my thoughts – well memory actually – just in time to notice I'd somehow mindlessly meandered down the street I'd be thinking of and was now staring back up at the very same porch I'd been remembering. Only now, just a few yards from the sidewalk I'd remember standing on, instead of a disappointed, confused and shocked mother standing in the open doorway as my mind would have led to believe. There stood the boy from my flashback. Just as tall and slender, and confused looking as I recalled. He looked at me. Thick brows sewn together in the middle, he cocked his head. "What are you doing here?" I'd say the sensation I felt next was that of the same tip of the tongue feeling, only if I did I'd be completely and totally lying to you. Because in all honesty there was nothing on the tip of my tongue - or any part of it for that matter! In those never-ending thirty seconds, it was like in addition to my entire life, I had momentarily forgotten every single word to ever exist in the English language. I just stared blankly at this boy, who looked at me with almost the same level of confusion I'm assuming my face had contorted into. And after what felt like forever I managed to open my mouth and something tumbled out. Something I could have worn sounded like, "I don't know, but why do I know you?"

[gemgemjaseyrae]

All Time Low Fanfiction

So I’m trying to recapture my teenage years and I want to start reading and possibly start writing ATL fan fiction again. I used to use AllTimeLowFanfiction.com but there doesn’t seem to be as active with stories anymore, so doesn't anyone know what’s used now?

[jackinalex]

Where do you post your fics?

Archive of Our Own is the best one, hands down. I loved Mibba, but it’s a shit show now. I post them there and Wattpad and Alltimelowfanfiction.com just to get a few more reads. I’m walkingonfirex on all of those. Like I said though, ao3 is the absolute best one.

[alltimefanfiction]

Websites Down

Hey dudes, so both alltimelowfanfiction.com (an extension of Mibba) and fanfiction.net (and fictionpress which as I understand it is an extension of ff.net?) all seem to be down.

FF.net only seems to be down as of today because I clicked a link for it yesterday and it worked fine but atlff.com has been several days.

Is this the same for everybody else?

-Eve

[alltimefanfiction]

Heads up that alltimelowfanfiction.com seems to be down?

Mibba itself is still okay, but maybe not for long again???

Save those fics you love, kids.

-Eve

[sarahbethimagines]

HERE IS THE TRAILER FOR MY NEW FANFICTION I WILL BE POSTING 

the story will be available on here, alltimelowfanfiction.com and wattpad!!!

id made a new tumblr for this and then somehow managed to remember the password for this account so IM BACK BABY!!!

[sarahbethimagines]

Chapter 12: Lemonade

Chapter Log!

I hated the doctors. Always have, always will. I didn't need a memory to know that. I didn’t even need more than one functioning brain cell to understand this wasn’t the first time I'd sat in an unnecessarily uncomfortable waiting room chair. Bitter and annoyed as I bounced my knee nervously. It was just a well-known fact that there was absolutely nothing pleasant about going to the doctors. It was always eerily quiet. Every door was always sealed shut, regardless of if someone was behind it or not. All the nurses had the same ugly shoes that made the same horrid squeak with every step they took on the same exact outdated, pastel-colored tiles. But probably the worst part of it all was how every single one, no matter where you went reeked of the same strange yet indescribable odor. It was like Febreze had released a special scent only for doctors' offices titled, 'Disinfected Tears of Children'.

Don’t even get me started on the audacity of them to just stick needles in the arms of mere innocent civilians at almost every visit! I'd still say losing your memory is one of the worst things that could happen to a person. But if I were ever asked, I wouldn’t even hesitate to say that having to go to the doctors constantly as a result was a very close second. "Kennedy?" A voice called me from my internal rant, halting my knee's rapid movement. I turned my head to see a young lady in pink scrubs standing in the doorway. "Dr. Walker is ready to see you now." Her smile was big and forced, like she hated her job. And I didn't blame her, clearly, I'd hate to work at this place even more. Both my dad and I rose to our feet and he pulled me into a soft side hug. "I'll wait out here." He nodded, smiling over at the lady with a wave. "You can come in, you know?" I explained slowly, offering an escape from the repetitive elevator-like music, which I also hated. "She's only examining my noggin." He just smiled and shook his head, "You've got it just fine, I'll be right here when you're all done." He patted my shoulder before sinking back in the plastic covered seat and sent me on my way. I really did try my hardest not to let out an audible groan as I watched the nurse's ugly shoes squeak down the hall. She brought me to the room I'd been in just a week or so prior before sitting me down and taking my vitals. All while I didn't even try and entertain myself at her feeble attempts at small talk. But I guess a fun fact I learned was that small talk was an incredibly hard thing to maintain when the person whose blood pressure you're taking doesn’t remember how their semester at school even went! So, I guess you could say I was more than a little relieved when she finally left and a more familiar face stepped through the door. "Kennedy!" Dr. Walker called in a happy greeting, her teeth as white as her coat as she grinned. "Hey Doc" I smiled back, swinging my legs as they hung over the edge of the examination table. I really liked Dr. Walked. She was much nicer than the majority of the hospital staff I'd interacted with back in Arizona, and she was much more pleasant to look at too. Most of the doctors at St. Mary's were old and disheveled and smelt like oatmeal to put plainly. But Dr. Walker was young, and she had these big soft brown eyes that looked kind even under the harsh fluorescent lights. She never groveled or muttered under her breath and her ebony skin always smelled like freshly picked roses. Granted it wasn’t quite strong enough to mask the disinfected tears of children odor, but it was a nice addition to the mix. It made the whole ordeal a little more barrable on my end of things. "How are we doing today?" She asked me, placing her small reading glasses on the bridge of her nose and looking down at the sheet on her clipboard. "Still waiting to wake up in Kansas with Auntie Em," I attempted to joke. The woman just looked up at me, single brow raised. "Not buying it?" "Not even on sale." She smiled. Then sighed and sat down on her little swiveling stool I'd been holding myself back from playing on the entire time I'd been waiting. "Now on a more serious note, how have you been feeling?" "Okay, I guess," I shrugged, "A lot of the time I feel really good, normal almost!" "And others?" "Mostly confused, a little lost..." I confessed, looking down on my hands. "I still get pretty bad headaches most days, ibuprofen doesn't really help much anymore though." "That's totally normal, I can prescribe you something a little stronger for a few days to see if we can try and kick them, how does that sound?" I nodded and she scribbled down a little note. "Do you find there's any time in particular the headaches are the strongest?" "Not always, but sometimes I get them the worst before or right after I remember something." I explained, and she wrote something else down. "Have you been remembering much?" "I think so!" I smiled, getting to mention something a little more exciting to talk about than my migraines. She asked me about specifics, which on her part was probably a poor choice of words. Because once I stared there wasn’t any stopping me till I was through. I went on and on telling her all the memories I'd gotten back in the last week and a half, like a kid showing their baby sitter their collection of rocks. Normal, rather mundane things everyone had lying around, but to me they were utterly spectacular. I told her how I'd shown up at Alex's house, and how at first it scared me a lot. I shared with her how I'd remembered all the freaky details about my car, and the Honey Bee Diner. And the conversation I'd remembered having with Emily. I told her how Alex got me to remember meeting him at school – sparing her the breaking and entering and petty theft of course. And I even told her how I remembered Michelle in annoyingly full detail. Making the premeditated choice to leave out the one that included my mom. And all while I talked, she sat, and she listened, and she nodded, and she waited for me to finish with a big, gulping breath. "But that's pretty much it." I shrugged when I'd ran out of things to share. "Pretty much it?" She basically laughed, cocking a brow back at me. "That's quite a lot, Ms. Murphy, I'm impressed." "You are?" I asked, tapping the toes of my sneakers together. "Why yes, that's quite a lot to remember in such a short period of time, sounds to me like you're on a speedy path to a full recovery!" She smiled, and I returned it widely. She clicked her pen again and looked down at her notes. "Now, is there any particular factor that makes remembering easier, I know you mentioned how Alex recreating meeting him helped. But anything else aside from that?" I furrowed my brows in thought, sitting there swinging my legs once again and mulling her question over. "I guess every memory I've had, has come to me in the exact places I first had them, or when I'm doing something I'd done before." I realized, chomping down on my lips. She hummed and nodded, tucking her tight black curls behind her ear. "So, you've found that your memory comes back more when you're doing things you normally would, say, with the people you would have done them with?" I nodded, "And would you say that's been more successful than hearing stories or looking through photo albums?" "The pictures help, but yeah I'd say that's about right." Dr. Walker clicked her pen yet again and slid it back into the pocket of her white coat. "Okay, well I think you know what you need to do moving forward!" "I do?" I questioned, tilting my head and scratching my nose. "Well, are you content with the place your memory is at right now?" "Well no," I shrugged, "I want to remember everything." "Then I think you know." She all but smirked at me. "Okay, maybe I'm lost?" I breathlessly laughed. Trying my hardest to follow my doctor's rather confusing words. "Kennedy," She sighed, standing up from her stool. "You say you remember things best when you're doing things you'd done before with people you used to do them with. So, continue to do all those things, and more even with even more people you used to be close with. And in two weeks when you come in again we will see what kind of progress you've made, and work more from there!" "Oh, I see, I'm following now!" I laughed, finally understanding what she'd been getting at all along. Admittedly feeling just, a little bit foolish. "So how about I check on how those staples are doing and we can send you on your way with a script for some mild pain killers?" She asked, waiting for me to nod before walking around me and lifting the patch of my hair. I sat there biting my lip and twiddling my thumbs as I felt her move around behind my head. Thankfully they'd only shaved just a sliver after the accident, I guess to release pressure, or something. I don't really know the finer details of it all. I hadn’t needed brain surgery, and therefore I wasn't bald and for that I was eternally grateful. Just a decently sized slit in my skull that I could easily hide while it healed. "Looks to be healing up just fine!" She told me, patting my shoulder and signaling my release from the cold examination table, its rough paper covering leaving indents on my thighs. "I think by next visit we will be able to take them out no problem." "Thank you Dr. Walker." I smiled warmly, straightening my shirt. "Now, if you'll follow me, I'll get you that script and I'm going to set you up with an appointment to see a Dr. Bonnie Gerecke, over at the Neurology Center at Mercy next week." She told me, holding the door open and letting me slide through first. "She's an amazing neuroimaging specialist, and she will be able to get the best insight of what's going on upstairs a little better!" "Sounds good to me." I tried to smile as we strode back into the waiting room. Not doing the best job of hiding how truly displeased I was at the thought of even more doctors. My dad rose when we came back into sight, and I stood there rocking on my heels while he and Dr. Walker talked for a moment or two. Just staring around at the stupid toys that were scattered across the small waiting room floor. She explained to him the conclusion we'd come to for moving forward, set up the appointment and sent us off with a script and a smile. But as much as I liked Dr. Walker, I didn't hesitate not even for a second to dart for the door once the conversation was through. My dad calling and laughing after me. He eventually caught up and we briefly exchanged my thoughts on the appointment on the elevator ride down to the lobby. He seemed just as happy as I had been to hear that Dr. Walker thinks I will really get my whole memory back as we stepped back out onto the street. Headed to towards the car, only to be stopped by a rather, odd sight to say the least. Parked just beside my father's Tacoma, now standing between us and it, was a strikingly familiar pick up. An even more familiar boy perched on its hood. Absentmindedly on his phone, oblivious to our arrival. "Alex?" I called, almost laughing at him. Giggling even more when his head snapped around like a dear in headlights at the sudden sound of my voice. "What are you doing here?" Alex quickly slid off the old rusted Ford and made his way over to my father and I, blushing profusely. "Oh, uh, your dad told me your appointment was today a while back." He admitted, hanging his head once in front of us and scratching the back of his neck. "I just didn't want to wait to know how it went, I guess." "I'll wait in the car." My dad suddenly whispered to me. Small smile on his lips as he patted my shoulder and scurried off to his own beat up truck. Leaving me there dumbfounded and rather blatantly confused about everything currently going on. "So how did it go?" Alex quietly asked once my dad had vanished, the slamming of his door breaking the brief silence we'd fallen into. "Good, I think.” I smiled and told him, rubbing my arm. "She said that the fact I've remembered so much means I'll probably get my fully memory back at some point." "Good, that's good." He mumbled. Hanging his head once again, he began to roll a few rocks under his Chuck Taylors. "So why are you-" "So, I was wonder-" "Oh, sorry, you go!" I blushed after we'd both tried to talk at the same exact time. Just feeling anxious for some reason in the silence that had settled. Alex blushed too as he gazed up at me, eyes bright behind the fringe of his hair. "Well, I know it won't make all that much sense to you," He bit his lip nervously. "But the three-year anniversary of recording our first album is today, and a bunch of us are getting together to celebrate later on." "Oh" I whistled, looking down at my toes. Mentally connecting the few dots, I knew to make any assumption I could on what that would mean to me. "I know it might be a little soon to see everyone again, but it would mean the world to the guys if you came." He practically whispered, sounding so afraid almost of what I might say. I bit down on my lip a little harder now, picking at the cracked flesh with my teeth. Thinking hard about what Dr. Walker had suggested for me to do. That seemed like something I'd go to if I could remembered its significance. I scratched at the back of my neck, "I'll ask my dad about it, okay?" I murmured. And regardless of it not being a complete yes, Alex's eyes lit up like the night sky on the fourth of July. "Bitchin'!" He laughed, bobbing his head and taking a step closer to me. "I'll text you later when we're getting ready to go!" I didn't even get a chance to squeeze a single word in before my breath was stolen clean from my chest with what Alex did next. Not skipping a beat, he leaned forward and placed the smallest, most delicate kiss on the center of my forehead. It didn't linger, and it wasn’t much, but it left my face crimson when he vanished the very next second. Clambering back into his truck and pulling off. Feeling completely and utterly flabbergasted. I couldn’t do much more than lift my hand to the small tingling patch of skin as I stumbled my way over to my dad's truck and climbed in. Not even attempting to say anything to him on my own accord. Not like I could with the way Alex’s small act had made my throat pinch shut. My dad chuckled at my obviously frazzled expression as he fired the truck up. "What was that all about?" He wondered. Well dad, if I knew I probably wouldn’t look so bewildered, now would I? I thought. But instead just pressed on a smile and said, "I don't really know, he asked me to come to this celebration, I guess it's for his band or something?" It was more of a question than an answer really. But my dad nodded nonetheless, probably knowing more about it than I did in all honesty. "Are you going to go?" "I don't really know yet." I whispered, eye brows pressed together in the center of my forehead. We drove down the road in silence for a second, and I chewed over the offer Alex had given me. A sigh was seconds from escaping me when I stopped it, remembering Michelle. And that if there was something – especially Alex related – I didn't know, that there was at least the smallest sliver of a chance that she did. Reminding myself of this, I swiftly twisted to slide my phone from the back pocket of my shorts. And wasted no time looking for her ridiculous name in my contact list. Finding it no problem at all to locate. Quickly I typed out a text to her, that was rather strange but felt fitting to send for some reason. I was almost instantly thankful when it took her no time at all to respond. To JuJuBee: hey r u awake yet? From JuJuBee: its 1pm. I almost blushed at the response I'd received, feeling foolish for a second till my phone quickly buzzed again in my hands. From JuJuBee: but yes, surprisingly I am. How did ur appointment go? It was today right? To JuJuBee: yeah! It went good but something strange happened after... From JuJuBee: Uhoh... what? To JuJuBee: well Alex was waiting outside after From JuJuBee: awe!!!! What a nugget, why is that strange? To JuJuBee: idk but do you know anything about this get together theyre having? From JuJuBee: for the party scene? Yeah of course! I'm going, why? From JuJuBee: OMG did he invite you? From JuJuBee: are you gonna go? I sighed out loud as I read her last three texts. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I typed something back. To JuJuBee: idk yet... should I? From JuJuBee: YES! From JuJuBee: You absolutely have to! We wouldn’t miss something like this for the world back in the day! I smiled a little at that last one, slight comfort filling me at her use of the word 'we'. At least I knew that if I ended up going I wouldn’t be completely alone in a sea of people who knew everything about me, and I couldn't even begin to try and recognize. I tapped my foot on the floor of my dad's truck. Contemplating everything when the patch on my forehead began to tingle again, reminding me of what I'd really planned to ask Michelle about. To JuJuBee: can I ask you a question? From JuJuBee: of course sugar plum To JuJuBee: well... when Alex went to leave he kinda... kissed my head. From JuJuBee: that’s not a question. I didn’t even fight myself from rolling my eyes at that one. If there was one thing I sure as Hell didn’t forget about this girl it was the fact that she was always overflowing with sarcasm. To JuJuBee: well, is that like normal? From JuJuBee: lol yes!! From JuJuBee: one time you pitched a fit when he tried to leave your house without doing it, and he hasnt missed one since! I bit my lip, reading her text over and over again. Replaying Alex kissing my head over and over again. And re-living the kiss I remembered sharing in my kitchen, you guessed it- over and over again. And right beside the ever-growing pile of things that confused me I kept stacked in my brain. The only other thought I could form was a bland and redundant one. Interesting, interesting, interesting.