A/N: Hi all you readers out there!! This is not xXFan-FanXx but her bestest friend and unbiological sister Jazzy-Baby! xXFan-FanXx did not have access to a computer so she kindly asked me to post this for her and so here I am!! Fanny wants you to know that she does not own Why Don't You and I by Chad Kroeger feat. Santana but she loves the song and so do I!!

GO CHECK OUT 85 ONE SHOTS BY JAZZY-BABY (ME)!!!!!!! (- shameless advertising!)

Why Don’t You and I

Chad Kroger/ Santana

Heaven

He smirked, that little smirk that’s kept me by his side for all these years, a small sparkle of mischief coming to life in his icy blue eyes. My heart always raced when I saw those two expressions intermingling. Only for a few years have I known him, but it feels like I’ve known him my whole life.

Junior year of high school was when I first laid eyes on him. It was hard not to when he was staggering into Physics twelve minutes late on the first day.

My best friend (at the time), Emily, tapped me on my shoulder and scoffed, “Look at the freak.”

True, he did look slightly freakish. He wore all black, his pants tight as all Goths were wearing at the time. And with myself being a constant hair dyer, instantly I knew black was not his natural color. Of course, the dark blue highlights were clues as well. He gave the teacher his pass, and moved silently to his seat; ignoring the undertow of whispers and looks.

The day went on, and I realized that I only had two classes with him. Physics and Lunch. He seemed to be a loner in physics; sitting alone in the corner and not talking to a single person. However, at lunch, it was as if he was a different guy. Laughing and conversing with his friends. Sure, they all wore the color of midnight and they wore make-up that would classify them as freaks but, they were having a good time.

I chose, personally, to ignore them. However, my friends chose otherwise. I thought it was natural. Hell, at times, I joined in as much as I hate to admit it. But, we were the popular ones, and they were the freaks. We were like the North and South in the civil war, bound to fight eventually.

But, even though we were on different sides of the social spectrum, I couldn’t help but gaze at this enigma. Ever since Physics that day, he hasn’t left my thoughts. But, I also knew that if I even dared to talk to him, my precious reputation forged by dating the top football players and being head cheerleader every year since I started, would be instantly destroyed.

The first time I even spoke to him, it was by complete accident. I was having an off day. On my way back from my locker, I tripped and fell. My ankle screamed in pain, and my stuff was spewed around the, luckily, deserted hallway. Well, deserted except for hm.

He kneeled and asked if I was alright. Upon closer inspection, I realized that his top lip was pierced on the right side, and his right eyebrow was too. Breaking my gaze, I sputtered that I thought I sprained my ankle.

He grimaced and went to touch the offended appendage. But, right before he did, he looked at me with eye-liner rimmed eyes and asked, “Is it okay if I touch it? To make sure it’s not broken or something?”

I nodded. Very gently, he laid his hand on my ankle; wary of applying too much pressure. “Doesn’t seem broken,” he murmured, withdrawing his hand.

I let out a breath of relief when he told me that, even though, I knew his word wasn’t law. I looked down at my ankle, and realized it was already swelling slightly. I curse under my breath, there went my cheerleading. By time I turned to look at my aide, he was already halfway with picking up my stuff. I blinked in confusion when he placed his stuff in his backpack – black of course. Seeing my expression, he chuckled slightly, “I thought it would be easier to go you to the nurse without all your crap in your arms.”

“Oh…yeah,” I manage to get out. He reached down, and threw my left arm over his shoulder. And with ease, lifted me from the cold ground. With most of my weight on him, we made our way to the nurse’s office, which was all the way on eh other side of the school. I believe it was at this time that I started to fall in love with him. More than half of my ex-boyfriends wouldn’t have done what he did. As we limped to the nurse, I realized that I didn’t know my savior’s name, even though we’ve shared the same physics room and teacher for the past three months.

“Matt,” He replied after I asked him, “And yours?”

“Courtney,”

Now, I would love to say that everything went smooth after that, but it didn’t. I went back to gaze at him from a far, but this time, they were sometimes returned.

I chuckle at how childish we were back then. Too afraid to talk in the midst of school, we gathered information about each other in every way manageable without talk to one another. In hindsight, if we just said ‘screw the quo’ and talk to each other perhaps we would’ve realized our future sooner. I don’t know, and I never will.

Anyways, we didn’t talk again until the second semester started. Everyone’s classes change halfway through the year. Deep down, I was afraid that I wouldn’t have any classes with Matt.

I walked into my new first period class, English, and too my glee, Matt was sitting (to my surprise) in the front row. A few seconds later, I understood why: assigned seats. And to my luck, I get to stare at the back of Matt’s head.

He chuckled as he turned to look at me that smirk on his face “At least you’re not injured this time.”

I smiled shyly as I felt my cheeks heat up, “Or on the floor.”

His smirk grew, and a few more chuckled escaped his lips, “Yes, that as well.”

Before I could reply. Emily cam and sneered, “Ew, why are you talking to that Goth?”

Matt snorted, “At least I have an IQ over 70.”

I held back a chuckle. Even thought Emily’s blonde hair was artificial like mine, she fit the stereotype to the tee. She frowned slightly, before smirking, “Well, at least I look human.”

“And a slut I may add.” Muttered Matt, faux coughing into his hand.

I did have to admit Emily looked like a slut on most days. With low-cut shirts and tight jeans during the winter, and during the summer it was worse. She crossed her arms and narrowed her chocolate brown eyes on Matt. “Freak.”

“Bitch.”

“Goth.”

“Whore.”

I sighed as the insult grew until the teacher came to split them up. Matt exhaled deeply when Emily walked away, his posture deflating slightly.

Quickly, I ripped a piece of paper from my notebook. Scribbling not to take it personally, I threw it over his shoulder. A few seconds later, I got it back.

‘I’ll try not to. And next time you want to hide your chuckles, try doing them quieter.’

I blushed. What I really that loud? I leaned forward so I was closer to his ear and whispered, “Sorry.”

A few seconds later, a piece of paper graced my desktop. Sprawled on it was: ‘It’s alright. I find it interesting that preps can insult each other behind each other’s back, but yet can be sweet as angels in from of them. No offense!’

Thus, started out string of notes. For one and a half months, we exchanged not throughout English and History – another class we had together. I actually still have a few of them, to prove that it took us a month and a half to ask for each other’s cell phone numbers. It was so ludicrous at how secretive we were being. Myself, holding back butterflies in my stomach and trying not to follow him like a sick puppy. He later confessed that writing his words was the only way not to get tongue tied.

I didn’t know what kind of spell he had on me. I can remember times staying up to two or three in the morning texting Matt. It got so bad at times; I ignored the texts of my other friends. Sometimes we talked about the most random things. Others, we talk about our families, friends, interests and numerous other things that teens talk about. I didn’t realize that Matt was quickly becoming my secret best friend. My own mother didn’t even know about Matt. This continued throughout the rest of the school year. During the day, we acted like we didn’t know each other, and during the night, we conversed as fast as our phones would let us.

When summer began, I held mix feelings. I was relieved that I didn’t have to act like I didn’t know Matt., but school was the only place I got to see my secret crush.

For half a summer, I didn’t see Matt. And for three weeks, I didn’t hear from him either. I was scared. I thought he forgot about me and moved on and various other thoughts. But, suddenly, I received a text.

Matt: Meet me at McDonalds on 36th street?

I blinked. I didn’t even think about it. I typed ‘yes’ before practically sprinting out of my house. I barely remembered to tell my mom I was going out.

Matt was already at the fast food restaurant by time I pulled in. He was leaning on the hood of his black Grand Cherokee. I could instantly tell something was wrong.

Hesitantly, I stepped out of my corvette and walked towards him. I didn’t even say hello before I blurted out ‘What’s wrong?”

He sighed and gestured towards the building, “Let’s get some food first. I’ll buy.”

I patiently waited for Matt to start talking before I bombarded him with questions.

“My mom’s dead,” he suddenly said.

I blinked, “W-what? H-how?”

“Suicide,” He answered solemnly, “That’s why I wasn’t respondeing to your texts, sorry.”

“NO, I’m the one that should be sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

He swiftly looked uncomfortable, as if he was afraid to ask. I maneuvered my hand to rest upon his. It wasn’t romantic, just a simple gesture to let him know I was there for him.

“Her funeral is in two days,” He whispered.

I managed a soft smile, “I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.”

…I never moved my hand away, and he didn’t seem to care.

The funeral was bleak. Matt looked so fake, standing there, thanking everyone. It was weird through to see him without his eye liner or any of this piercing. He didn’t look any less handsome, just different. He was dressed in the usual funeral garb, a pure black suit with white underneath. He looked so uncomfortable. His eulogy was moving. Not a word about suicide or depression. Just about happier times. I never told him that I realized he chose times before he was born. When he was done, he led me outside.

“Sorry,” He quickly said, “I just…needed to get out of there.”

“I understand,” I replied.

He sighed before he started to dig into his pants pocket. Withdrawing a small box, he handed it to me. Opening it, it was a small sliver chain. Two interlocked hearts hung from it. Instantly, tears were brought to my eyes.

“It was my mother’s,” he told me, “I want you to have it.”

I covered my gaping mouth with my hand. “Matt, I can’t”

“You can, “He stressed. Grabbing it out of the box, he held it ready to fasten, “May I?”

I nodded and turned so he could put it on. When he was done, I turned and smiled, “Thank you.”

“It’s beautiful on you.”

It was in that parking lot a few moments later that we shared out first kiss and we said ‘screw you’ to the world and became a couple

By time school came back around, we were already two months in. However, between work, and my cheerleading camp, we only had time for two official dates.

We still talked every chance we got. But a cell phone is sorely different from talking in person. Plus, there was the whole coming-out to my friends. How do I tell my friends, we were preps at Matt called them, that I was dating someone who they thought was a freak? Not easy. Even Matt didn’t tell his friends yet.

I was a case of Romeo and Juliet; secret lovers. I just mentally prayed that none of us died at the end of this story. It didn’t help that my parents weren’t too keen on the idea of me dating a ‘punk’.

“I just a phase Jessica, “My father said, resting a hand on my mother’s shoulder, “It will pass.”

When we finally did come out and say we were dating to our friends, to put it kindly, all hell broke loose. My friends were screaming that I was dating a freak, a Goth, and my reputation was going to be destroyed. His friends were worse in my opinion. Saying I was a slut, whore, and I was just going out with him because of a dare.

I knew deep down he didn’t believe them, but I also wasn’t blind to the sliver of doubt in his eyes. I couldn’t blame him either. I was the typical blonde cheerleader, with an IQ higher than 120, and he was the typical Goth, except when he was with friends. But through the hell of the high school world, we fought against the social regulations. And on the day we gained out diplomas, we walked out hand-and-hand.

My friend have depleted, and so had his by this time. And whenever we got in a fight – which was quite often during school, I wondered if I was making the right choice; leaving my friends, betraying my parents by going out (and falling in love) with Matt. But, with every relationship, we have our hurdles to pass through. College was a big one. It would either keep us together or split us again.

“Well, what should we do?” I asked. The passing headlights flashed across our faces as we made our way to the nearest arena for a concert.

“About college?” He asked turning to look at me briefly. His eyes were still encased with thick eye liner, but his irises were no long hazel. Instead, they were his natural color, a soft icy blue. I honestly didn’t care for the shade of the orbs he held, but for the soul beneath them. Wow, that sounded so clique, but it’s the truth.

“Yeah,” I replied. I caught myself from pouting. We applied for the same colleges…and none of them accepted us both.

He shrugged, his head straight forward, “I don’t know.”

I didn’t want to leave, go to a far away college without Matt. Childish, I know, but I wanted Matt by my side through this change. I know I’m going to need his grounded personality when I’m freaking out about something stupid.

We stayed silent until we reached the arena. We sat in the parking lot for a few minutes since we were early. Suddenly, Matt dug into his pants pocket. A small sliver quarter was what he produced.

“Heads, community college; together. Tails, separate colleges.” He explained.

He flipped it high, but it still landed in his palm perfectly. Tails.

I chuckled shyly, “I don’t think you flipped it right. Try again.”

I think we both knew we weren’t leaving that car until we got a heads from that coin.

-------

We both went to become teachers. Myself, an English one, and Matt, music. At least at college, we were away from the harsh looks of our classmates. But, we still got looks of surprise from people. Over the summer, Matt grew his hair out, it just shy of touching his shoulder. The blue had faded to give way to his newest color; blood red. I was still growing use to the color myself. Anyways, to see a man in pure black with an arm around a girl with pink clothes and light brown hair with soft blond highlights was odd. To put it into simpler terms, a goth with an arm around a prep freaked people out. At least Matt decided to ditch the eye liner for college so he scared a few less people thankfully.

Also, with college, we started to trek on new ground with our relationship. Living together. It didn’t come out of want, it came out more of a desperate need, a last resort. My parents, fed up with my choice of love, kicked me out. Matt refused to let me stay in his house, which hurt me at the time. Later on, I found out that his father was an abusive asshole who liked the bottle a little too much. No wonder he offered the idea of an apartment together. So, we put our money together and got a motel room on the outskirts of town; which was slightly scary. Matt worked at nights at the local grocery store, so I was “home” alone most nights. I hated it there, I wanted to leave. But, when Matt got home (and took a shower), he would crawl into bed and wrap me in his arms, I didn’t want to be any where else. That was probably when I realized that I only had Matt in my life. I, a girl who had multitudes of friends, only had Matt left. My parents have done everything but disown me, my friends have deserted me, all for the man I chose to love. The world could be a cruel place at times.

--------

Four years, a college education and an apartment later, is where I am today. At the ripe age of twenty-one and I already have a rock on my finger. My hair was no longer dyed, the strands now the color of chestnuts. Matt still dyed his, but that was to the benefit of both of us. Blond just didn’t look correct on top of Matt’s head. Until the strands dull to gray, Matt will have black hair even if I have to do it myself.

My hands, with self-manicured nails, smoothed the simple white gown I was wearing. I know as soon as I walked through those doors, I know Matt will be in his trademark color, from head to toe, waiting for me.

When I was younger, I always imagined a grand wedding. The color of innocence streaming from a cathedral ceiling. Thousands of people standing on either side of me as I walked down the aisle in a grand dress.

But now wiser than those naive days, I realized to have the fairy tale wedding, I would have to give up my prince charming. And when I say ‘I do’ I know it will be forever. Screw my family, they’re too blind to see his golden heart under skin scarred with ink. Friends couldn’t see his soul through lids of black.

And neither of them could see the intelligence under a mop of night.

Matt might look like the devil on the outside; covered in the hue of the reaper, but he’s my ticket into heaven. Because without him by my side, those golden gates would never open for me. Besides, who ever said white was the only color worn by angels?

A/N: Fanny wants you to review and Jazzy wants you to go read her version of this!!! PLZ!! 3's to you allz~~