A/N: Okay, guys, it's not like I should take up another story—I'm aware, but this one came to me straight out of the blue. Like a semi-truck coming in too hot and before I knew it the writing bug ran me over. I've always wanted to write a Paul x OC story, though the idea was never clear. I still hope you enjoy it, though I don't know if this idea has been done before when considering just how many fanfics exist in this fandom. To be honest, I'm not sure where it'll lead us just yet so I'm coming along for the ride.

Prologue: Memories

"The truth is I don't want things to change, but I know that's naive of me. It's just not how life works. Life will be over before you know it and It's moving—always moving, whether you like it or not. And yeah, sometimes it's painful, and sometimes it's sad, but sometimes it's surprising. No matter the mistakes we learn from them, we grow. And when life hurts you, because it will, remember the hurt. The hurt is good. The hurt will remind you of everyone you have met and loved. They are all apart of your story. Your triumphs, your defeats, your past, and your memories."

Hello, my name is Lexi, and I want to tell you my story. It revolves around a certain blond and how I never thought I'd see him again. Most importantly, it's a story about how I died, but to explain things better, we will have to go back to the beginning. Back to when things were more simple, and all I cared about was my sixteen birthday.

Back to the year 1980.

"Hey, no fair! You know I'm too short to reach!" I huffed at the blond snickering at me, his arms raised above his head in amusement. His skateboard was beyond my reach even while hopping on my toes. "C'mon, just give it to me already. You said I could ride it."

He stopped laughing and gave me a smug look. "Why do you always want to ride my board anyway?" To me, that was a stupid question. He knew why from all my rants in the past. I made a point to show that by crossing my arms while staring at him pointedly. This earned me a hand in my hair and a skateboard thrown at my feet.

"Alright, but your parents are way too strict. They need to chill on the safety rules, ya know?"

"Yeah, believe me. I know all too well." Even though he had a point, I didn't linger on the topic. I quickly dashed off with the skateboard, gliding along the empty street before Paul could say anymore.

I met Paul years ago and despite our age differences he never treated me that differently. My parents, on the other hand, well, they didn't like him. In their eyes, he was a trouble maker. Someone they felt would eventually influence their little baby to do big bad things. In a sense, they were right, but none of us could see the future and I didn't care.

Paul was never allowed at my house, and I was not allowed to see him. Though that never stopped me from sneaking off with the blond. Our friendship was important to me. Plus, I might have had a little kid crush on the older teen, but I would never admit it.

Our favorite spot was the park. It became our own little skating grounds, and a lot of fond memories were made here. Even years later, I would visit it just to sit there and think. My thoughts lingering on the fun I shared with him. I missed the old days a lot. When things were simple, and the world seemed smaller.

The day Paul went missing was on my sixteenth birthday. I hadn't seen him all day since being cooped up in my house. Don't get it wrong, the party itself was fun. Loads of cake and presents. Even some friends from school came over to visit, but I didn't see Paul till later that night when I heard tapping at my window.

His big grin welcomed me when I pulled back the curtains. Seeing him at my window wasn't new, but it wasn't something that occurred often. However, I didn't think much about it at the time. How could I when the blond lifted a poorly wrapped skateboard for me to see? The lazy yellow bow daring to fly off in the night breeze.

Quickly I opened my window to stick half my body outside. "Paul!" I quietly screamed with enthusiasm. "You did not buy me a skateboard." My words filled with disbelief despite the gift being visible.

"Me? Buy you a skateboard? You think I'm made of money, Chica?" I gave him a glare, which he chuckled at before handing over the present. With my bedroom light landing on it more clearly, I could see it was his old board. The little wear and tear from use evident along the frame. The old paint design was fading away in some places, although the wheels looked new.

I must have been silent for too long because Paul decided to speak up. "I mean, if you don't want it I could just take it—"

"—No, no." I quickly pulled the board to my chest and smiled at him brightly. "Thank you, Paul. Really." I've always wanted a skateboard, but my parents kept denying me one. They are too dangerous. You may fall. What if you bust your head open, huh? Being the arguments they would often bring up. I'm half certain they thought skateboarding to be a gateway to drugs or something.

I sat the board down by my window and leaned out further, giving my longest friend a big hug. Despite how everyone treated him as some stoner kid with no future, I cared deeply for him. I didn't expect a gift from Paul, never did, so it was honestly nice to receive one. Even if it was a handy down skateboard.

That's when I noticed he had a backpack on and that his guitar case sat next to his feet.

Leaning back I gave Paul a questionable look. "Heading over to a friend's house?" It wasn't unusual for him to crash out at places. Especially if he and his dad had another fight.

"You can kinda say that, yeah." his gaze didn't reach mine which troubled me more.

"Paul," I placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to open up to me. Normally we told each other everything so seeing him so distant now was worrisome. "What's going on?"

When he looked up at me, I could see just how tired he was. "I'm heading out of town." I stared at him, not sure what to say. "I just— I wanted to see you one last time, ya' know? Give you a gift before leaving."

His words slowly sinking in before realization hit me hard. "Wait, you're not planning on coming back, are you?"

"No, Chica, I'm not." A lot of emotions ran through me at that point. I felt angry at him for choosing to up and leave, but overall I felt sad. I never imagined him leaving. My immature mind thinking he would always be around. That he would always be someone I could hang out with.

"Where will you even go?" My voice was softer now. Not just because we needed to be quiet, but because I didn't want to cry.

Paul sighed. "I don't know yet." Then he stepped forward this time and held me close, his crazy blond hair covering my view of the backyard. It helped hide the tears beginning to streak down my cheeks. He smelled clean like he just took a shower and I closed my eyes, taking in this memory as my arms circled his shoulders.

Paul wanted to be many things. He wanted to be a well-known skateboarder. To blow everyone out of the water during competitions and become the next big record-breaker. He wanted to be a lead guitarist in a rock band just like Motley Crue. To throw himself off into the crowd and have a girl on both arms. Paul wanted to be in the spotlight one way or another, but after that night, no one knew him. He just simply disappeared.

Seven years have passed since then, and I still think about him occasionally, but life always gets in the way. I had to worry about graduating from high school and where to enroll in a college. Friends came and went over the years, none of which made an impression on me as much as Paul did. Yet that wasn't too surprising since I never forgot about him. I often wondered if he ever found a place where he truly belonged.

It was the fall of nineteen-eighty-seven when I finally left my home town. The decision to move to a college away from where I grew up felt right. Especially when I wanted a fresh start in a new place where people didn't know me as some outcast. I didn't act like most girls my age and socializing with others had been difficult.

Of course, I never expected that this would be the last time I would see my parents face to face. Yes, they have always been controlling, but it was out of concern for my wellbeing. No matter how I was brought up, I still had a loving relationship with my family. Even now, I wish I could have hugged them one more time instead of running off in a hurry to catch my bus. Yet at that point, I didn't know what was going to happen. Life has that funny way of working, huh? Life is always moving, whether you like it or not, and I was ready to start mine.

To find where I belonged.

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