Collide

one

He was the bad boy attending her high-end school on scholarship. He was always getting into fights. She was always chasing after her dream of being a singer. He was a bully; she was friends with everyone.

When they collided, the Earth shifted beneath them.

Everything about them was raw, passionate. Their fights were explosive, the sex was always hard, fast, intense. They were always jumping from one extreme to the next. Screaming and cussing each other out, throwing awful truths at the other. How he ruined her life, how she'd been disowned for loving him. How she had caused him to lose his scholarship to Julliard.

Protecting each other so fiercely. When he had gotten caught shoplifting, she took the blame, only her last name keeping her out of juvie. When she was being attacked at a party, he had beat the guy within an inch of his life.

Her parents hated him. He was no good, they said. He will only bring you down. Nothing good will ever come out of loving him.

She didn't care.

Maybe it was her being rebellious for once. Maybe, after seventeen years of always doing the right thing, she finally decided to take her life in her own hands. Do the wrong thing. Mess up, fall in love, get heartbroken in the end. Or maybe, she was just naïve. Maybe she thought she could change him, make him into a better man. Force him to chase his dreams, do better, be better, for her. Maybe she thought loving him would be enough. That she could be enough for him to want to change.

His uncle told him not to go messing around with the 'upper class'. She will always look down on you, he'd said. She will never genuinely love you. She'll use you to better herself. Nothing good will ever come out of loving her.

He didn't care.

Maybe he thought she was his salvation. When he was drowning, she'd come to his rescue. After seventeen years of always doing the wrong thing, maybe he could finally turn his life around. Do the right thing. Step up, fall in love, grow old with her. Or maybe, he was just fooling himself. Maybe he thought she could see past his flaws, not see his demons. Maybe he thought he would do better for her, be better. That her love would be enough for him to want to change.

The first time he had heard her sing, he'd been entranced. How could she, an angel sent from Heaven, love him, a demon marked by the devil? What on Earth had he done, to deserve to have her in his life, even if only for a little while? When would she come to her senses, and leave him behind?

He never gets to tell her he could play the piano. Never told her his mother used to play professionally. That he had spent countless hours learning the piano after her death, just to feel a little bit closer to her. That he still has nightmares about that night. That he can only get her screams out of his head when he's playing the piano.

She never gets to tell him she's heard him play. That it's the most beautiful sound she's ever heard, and that he's amazing at what he does. She never gets to learn why he plays, or when he was taught. She never tells him. They never share their love of music. They always just silently enjoy what the other can do.

Maybe if they had communicated a little better. Maybe if they hadn't let everything get so out of control. Maybe if he'd just told her about Julliard, or if she'd just said that she chose him over her family. Maybe everything could have worked out in the end.

But it didn't.

She didn't know about Julliard until that last, horrible day. Until he'd decided, without consulting her, that he wouldn't go. That he would stay in their horrible small town, with nothing going for him, just to be with her.

He didn't know she was accepting a part on Broadway. That she'd decided, without consulting him, that she would go. That she would leave their horrid small town, with everything she'd ever known, to better her life. So that they could be better together.

Neither of them knew. Maybe if they'd sat and talked it out, they wouldn't have gotten in a fight.

Maybe they wouldn't have thrown such harsh words at each other.

Maybe she wouldn't have stormed out, and maybe he wouldn't have stormed after her.

Maybe they could have waited out the storm. Maybe they wouldn't have argued in the car.

Maybe she wouldn't have sped around that last bend.

Maybe she wouldn't have hit that patch of ice. Maybe she could've kept control on the car.

Maybe they wouldn't have plunged into the river, still screaming at each other.

Maybe the last thing they'd hear from the other wouldn't have been,

"I was going to stay here for you."

And,

"I was going to take you with me."