After much consulting and debating, I will admit that technically, I, Blue, for the most part, in accordance and context to the laws of reality and the facts of life verbatim do not in any way, shape, or form that can be physically, chemically, or naturally proven own Marvel or Paramore in any noteworthy capacity.

Kazoo Productions ™presents: All I Wanted Was You by Paramore

The rented loft is spacious, far too much room for one person. A few months ago, this wasn't much of a problem. A few months ago, he was engaged. And a few months ago, he made the biggest, stupidest mistake of his life. He was no longer engaged.

He's staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows, red and black eyes gazing absently at the scenery below. The sun is shining, the streets are busy, and life goes on. He hates days like this. Every day should rain, thunder, lightning, and have hurricane force winds. It would fit his mood better. As he thinks this, clouds roll in, and the people seemingly vanish in the downpour.

If only she'd come back as easy…

He takes a drag from his cigarette he doesn't remember lighting, the smoke curling up to the high-beamed ceiling. He turns from the window and freezes. She's there. She's here. Sitting on his bed, looking up at him with those big, silver eyes. Just looking like she never left. She tilts her head, white streaks falling into her face.

"Do you think of me," she nods to the window, "when you're out there?"

"I think of ya every day, chere," he says. "Je t'aime et je suis désolé. I –"

He's on the bed, on his back, and it doesn't matter that he doesn't know when he moved. She's above him, straddling him. She's kissing him. Her lips are soft, softer than he remembers. She smells sweet, like magnolias. Like home. She tastes beautiful.

"I miss you so much," she says.

She's looking down at him. When did she move away? Her fingers brush through his hair, across his face. He trembles at her touch. She smiles, almost sadly.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

She shouldn't be sad. Not anymore.

"It's just such a shame," she's whispering in his ear, "that I'm a dream."

He startles and bolts upright in his bed, calling her name. It's the middle of the day. There's no one here but him. She was here, but that was months ago. That was forever ago.

He stands, he paces his apartment a few times. He thinks and tries not to. If he thinks, he remembers. And he regrets so much. He's an idiot. She was going to be his wife. She was his. And he threw it away, threw her away.

All I wanted was you.

He doesn't remember when he even sat down, but he finds himself waking up on the couch. His mind replays his own thoughts, over and over and over.

I love you.

Then why did you hurt her?

I want you.

Then why did you choose the other?

I need you.

You don't deserve her.

He knows that, but he's sorry, so sorry, but she won't hear him, won't see him. He thinks she hates him and hopes she doesn't. Some part of her must still love him. Every time, without fail, whenever he wakes up, his mind hits replay. Black and white re-runs flow through his mind.

If he could start over, if he could do it all again, he'd slow down. He'd take his time, take in their every moment together. Cherish the best parts of them. He wouldn't hurt her.

The past is past. He can't change that. No one can change the past. The present is a whole other matter.

He rolls off the couch and heads for the shower. He smells terrible and needs a shave. Maybe if he gets down on his knees and begs real nice. Maybe she'll look at him. It would be a start. She's not his anymore, but maybe... Just maybe she still wants him too.


A/N: You can't even begin to imagine much this song has been bugging me. Just SO annoying! Months, I tell you! Well, now it's written so maybe it will freaking STOP already! I have Two tests Wednesday, so this better appease that stupid muse! Why can't it help me remember school stuff?

Translation: I love you and I'm so sorry.