Author's Note: Well hello my lovely chickens. It has been a long while hasn't it. And yet, here I am. Okay, I'm done now. Anyways, I have always loved Lemonade Mouth, cause I LOVE music. So I was like, okay, why don't we write some sob story about Ray Beech because... well why not. So that is what I am doing here. Okay, yeah. So please R&R and ENJOY!

Oh. And I don't own Lemonade Mouth

He hadn't realized when he had crossed the line with Scott. He hadn't realized that his best friend had had enough of him and his constant games of trying to destroy their competition. A rag-tag band of kids who got their name all thanks to him. Lemonade Mouth. Ugh, they made him cringe. That strong leader of a girl, with some serious attitude and short hair, rebelling against the world. The quiet lead singer who had more friends in a book than in the real world. The keyboard player who is quite literally a nobody. The drummer, who is supposedly the brother of the great soccer player of Mesa High. And then that base player who stole his best friend away from him faster than he could say 'soccer.'

After Scott had left Mudslide Crush to join Lemonade Mouth, Ray realized, that he had pushed his friend too far. And he hated himself for it. He hated that he had told his friend if he joined the group on stage, he wouldn't be welcome back. And Scott didn't come back. Then after the performance, Ray had told him to stay away, feeling extremely hurt. And he did. Ray hadn't talked to his best friend in two months.

He didn't realize how much he needed Scott to keep him stable. To lead him in the right direction. And so, Ray began to crumble.

It started with a few bad grades. Unknown to most, Ray was very smart. He enjoyed learning new things and did very well in school. So it was a surprise when Ray got his pre-calculous test back to see a large 'C' printed in red ink on the top. Ray shook it off, and just decided he would work harder on the next test. And later that day, his English test was returned to him with the numbers 72 printed on the top. And it continued that way.

Ray was also beginning to struggle in soccer. Scott had quit that too. His aim was never quite right. He always kicked a little to far to the side, missing open shots. And his normally impeccable footwork had disappeared too. And he started sitting on the bench for most of the games.

And then the band. Ray loved music, though soccer was his real passion. So when he went into the first rehearsal without Scott, he was lost. He didn't know how to run the rehearsal like Scott did. And so when the group was writing new songs, the lyrics never sounded quite right. And the notes were always a little off. And Ray stopped playing music. In fact, he stopped even listening to it. Ray's entire life sounded like an out of tune piano played by a deaf kindergartner.

Ray's naturally sharp temper began to show, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. He would lash out at random times, getting himself into trouble with teachers and having his "friends" distance themselves. He had landed himself in multiple detentions, and his parents were immediately informed. And then they began to pressure him. "Ray, study harder. You need a high GPA to get into a good college." "Ray! You should have made that shot. College scouts will completely ignore you and you won't be able to play Division 1." "Ray, stop doing this. Study harder. Focus."

And it got to the point, were Ray separated himself from everyone. He went to school in the morning and immediately went to his first class, ignoring the whispers. And he sat in the back of every class, taking notes on everything, then rewriting them when he got home, only to realize he hadn't been taking notes, he had been writing down his mixed up thoughts. Then he would sit in the library during lunch and not to eat, but to do his homework so he could later focus on soccer. And at practice, Ray drove himself until he couldn't go any farther every night. His coach just thought he was motivated, but he was just trying to show everyone that he wasn't a disappointment. And he wanted to get his head away from his crumbling world without Scott to support him like pillars. And when he drove home at the end of the night, it was silent, and his eyes dropped tears like the clouds did raindrops. And when he was home, he went straight to his room, now barren of any distractions, and he studied for tests that were three weeks away. And when he was done with that, he would grab a granola bar from the cupboard and head out in the dark of the night to kick soccer ball after soccer ball into the goal. And if he missed one shot, he did ten more. And his parents watched. And they didn't make him stop. Because they couldn't see how he was falling.

People could see the change in their once mighty king. They saw how his once trademark, spiked, blonde hair was now hanging limply in front of his face. They saw the dark circles forming under his sunken eyes, that now looked dull and grey, opposed to their natural icy blue. They noticed how his skin was paling, and his varsity jacket hung a little more loosely on his shoulders then it should. Ray knew he had changed, his parents didn't seem to notice. And neither did Scott.

Ray would stare down the back of Scott's head during classes. He would watch him out of the corner of his eye during a soccer practice. Watch him laughing with his new friends, who had happily welcomed him into their group. He observed that Scott didn't need Ray to be in his life. He didn't need Ray to keep him stable like Ray needed him. Scott could move on. Ray couldn't.

It was a cold, dreary day in March. Almost time to leave for the week of spring break. Ray sat outside on the bench, staring at the empty soccer field. Soccer for school had ended back in November, but Ray hadn't stopped training. He had gone to the gym and practiced in field houses. He couldn't lose his soccer skills. Not after the destruction of everything else in his life. He was officially failing two classes and his parents were clearly viewing him as a disappointment, considering he also didn't get recruited to ANY schools for soccer, let alone a Division 1 school. Rain began to fall from the grey skies in sheets, blinding Ray, but he still didn't move. Tears poured even harder than the rain, and Ray did nothing to wipe them away. You could no longer tell whether it was rain or tears pouring down his cheeks. I wonder if I could drown myself out here in this rain, Ray thought. I'd probably fail at that too. And that is when he broke down.

He put his head firmly in his hands, fingers gripping at his hair as if begging it to give way along with his life. Tears continued to streak from his eyes, down his face, as his shoulders shook with helpless sobs. He was alone. All alone in the old, harsh world. Nobody wanted him. He stayed there for a while. Not moving, just tears trickling past his fingers and onto the sopping field. His breaths got shorter and more needy as his tears flowed more fiercely. Ray doubled over so he was on his hands and knees, retching up his stomach acids, for there was nothing else to regurgitate. he hadn't eaten in days, and here it was, proving that it was a problem.

Ray sat back on his heels, staring at the ground, trying to breathe. I deserve this. he thought. I pushed away Scott and then everyone suddenly hates me, thinking I'm a disappointment for spiraling out of control. Ray's breaths calmed slightly, and it led way to a pounding head ache. He cradled his head once again, gritting his teeth to fight the pain. But it kept pulsing to the beat of his heart. Alive and fierce. Not letting up anytime soon. Unfortunate in both ways. Ray thought miserably. The pain finally pushed him over, and Ray dry gagged, resulting in a coughing fit.

Throughout it all, nobody heard. Nobody cared to go check the fields to find the source of the horrible noise. 'It's too cold and wet.' they would all say. And when school let out for the day, nobody would go check. They would be to busy trying to get home as fast as possible.

But one person did hear. He could recognize those heart wrenching sobs anywhere. He realized that the only one who was outside in this rain on the soccer field was Ray. And he knew, that even though he had been pushed away, he needed to help.

So Scott heard. And Scott cared enough to go check the fields even in the cold, moist air. And he checked before school let out. And when the day was over, he would stay there, and make sure Ray was okay. Because Ray was Scott's friend. And even though they had hit a rough patch in the friendship, Scott needed to support him, like pillars.

Scott walked across the parking lot, admiring the rain drops that had settled on the cars, efficiently washing away the rock salt from the roads of winter. He walked over to the soccer field, the score board sporting a large 'Turbo Blast' sign at the bottom. Scott saw his former best friend doubled over, squeezing his head as tears streamed down his blotchy face.

Scott quietly approached, like a hunter to a deer, not wanting to startle Ray. He walked around his friend and stood in front of him. Ray heard his steps, but didn't pay them any mind. They were probably just passing by. But then he saw those shoes in front of him. The shoes that only Scott would wear.

"Go away," Ray demanded through grit teeth.

"No," Scott argued. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm not talking to you right now. Or ever again," Ray growled, still not meeting his friends face.

"Then I'll just sit here and enjoy the view of some kid who looks like a mess, getting sick on the soccer field," Scott shrugged. Ray didn't answer, and his breathing hitched slightly when he felt a soft, but firm hand on his shoulder. "I'm kidding, Ray," Scott said softly.

"I- I don't care. Just leave me alone like everyone else," Ray cried out.

"And that's exactly why I have to be here. Because, "everyone else" isn't," Scott said.

"Leave me alone, Scott," Ray repeated.

"You really did change," Scott mumbled, just loud enough for Ray to hear.

"Yeah well, you might have realized that earlier if you hadn't been off playing with the lemonheads," Ray retorted.

"You're the one who pushed me out of your life, Ray," Scott said gently.

"But you weren't supposed to go!" Ray sobbed, and he collapsed onto his friends shoulder, who immediately embraced him with strong arms.

"And I won't leave again," Scott said calmly. It was silent for a while. Neither boy spoke. Only the sounds of Ray's sniffles were heard.

"I don't deserve you," Ray finally spoke up, glancing at Scott.

"Why do you say that?" Scott's brow furrowed in confusion and worry.

"Because I'm a failure. I don't deserve this big time winner with the perfect life," Ray said. And Scott looked pissed.

"You take that back right now!" Scott demanded.

"What?" Ray asked.

"Right now! You are not a failure, Raymond Beech. You are a star. Your grades are impeccable, you never miss a goal, and you can sing sweeter than a bird. You are NOT a failure," Scott shouted. Ray flinched back slightly.

"I'm failing two classes right now, Scott. I haven't made a goal in a game since the beginning of the school year, and I haven't sung a note since Rising Stars," Ray admitted.

"Why?" Scott asked.

"Because- because," Ray couldn't find the words. He felt his blood begin to boil. "Because of you! Because you left and I have had nobody to support me! I can't concentrate in class, you weren't there to help in rehearsals, and every time I am on the field, you aren't there to pass to," Ray screamed. "Because I need support, Scott. I can't live my life like you can!" Scott has silent a moment, mulling over what he had just been told.

"Ray, I am always going to be here for you. No matter what. You haven't lost me. That's why I came outside when I heard you crying," Scott admitted. Ray looked up, looking slightly lost.

"But I almost did loose you," Ray countered.

"But you didn't. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and help me plan a date for Mo and me," Scott whined. Ray smiled and took Scott's hand before they started walking into the school building, supported by twin, concrete pillars.