NOTE: Okay. To tell you the truth, I lost interest in "Goodbye". It was going nowhere. Did you notice all those filler chapters? I just wrote that for the heck of updating. So, here I am, attempting to right my wrong by re-writing it. It'll be the same idea, but different dialogue and scenes and everything.
I'm going to keep both of them up until this story reaches the same pace as the other one. Then I'll delete the other one completely. I'm just re-writing chapters one through four. Those I feel are too horrible and to be honest, I forgot what I even wrote there. So anyway, here's "Goodbye" chapter one:
It was a humid afternoon in New Jersey, it wasn't too bright, but it wasn't too cloudy either. I turned towards the windowpane of my apartment and looked outside. I felt the same as the weather, not too happy, but not sad: just neutral.
I sat on my chair, leaning back on its hind legs while attempting to balance a pencil between my lips and nose until a forced cough broke my concentration.
"What?" I said irritated as the pencil fell onto the shaggy carpet, making a soft 'thud'.
"What are you doing?" Oliver asked. He stood behind me, rocking back on his heels as he looked down at me, expectantly.
"Nothing! Something important until you interrupted me," I replied motioning towards the laptop in front on me. It made a soft whirring noise until the screen went blank, it was now in sleep-mode now.
"Okay, one: you can't do nothing and something at the same time. Two: balancing a pencil on your face isn't important. And three: you didn't even touch your computer," he said candidly.
I shot up from my chair and sauntered towards my couch before plopping down. I replied mockingly, "okay, one: shut up, Oliver!"
"Haha. Very funny, Lillian," he walked towards me as I turned the TV on.
"Don't Lillian me," I replied lamely.
He stopped right in front of me, strategically blocking my view of the TV. He stood there for a few seconds knowing it'd piss me off.
"Nice ass, Oliver, but move," I nudged his butt with the remote I held in my hands. He squirmed for a moment until I stopped poking him. He was very ticklish. I rolled my eyes at his immaturity and waited for him to move. But knowing Oliver, he'd find another way to annoy me. He bent down before me and wiggled his butt. He sat down in my lap and snuggled in, getting comfortable.
"Get off me and I'll tell you something," I said, trying to negotiate.
"Hm, I don't know. I kinda like it here," I could practically hear the smirk in his words. I struggled under his weight and gave up. Oliver used to be Mr. Puny Man. But sometime during high school, he grew. Not that I noticed or anything, or cared.
"Whatever, so guess what!" I yelled into his ear just to piss him off. Two could play that game. He knew that, and another thing he knew was that I'd win. I always win.
"What?" he played along, leaning back into me.
"I got you something! Something totally awesome!"
"Okay, I'll humor you. What is it?" Oliver questioned. He tried to act uninterested, but the keyword here is: try.
"A key!" I yelled again, making him shudder in my lap.
"A key to what," he asked suspiciously. He turned in my lap and rested his back against the couch's armrest. He put his arm on the headrest behind my head and looked into my eyes, smiling.
"To my heart Oliver," I rolled my eyes, "my apartment, you donut!" I slapped arm playfully.
"Oh awesome, Lils," he said, actually excited, "but why?"
"Oh, you know, if you ever need a place to stay, if I ever forget mine..." I said mumbling the last part.
"Haha, which you will," he smirked playfully until his smile faded into a grateful one, "thanks, Lils."
"Anytime, babe," I smiled back, "now get off me."
Ha. I know, I know. It may seem like Oliver and I are boyfriend-girlfriend, but trust me, it isn't anything like that. I love Oliver, but he's my best friend, through thick and thin. Oliver's always been there for me since Pre-K when I saved him from those bullies back then. Yes, I saved Oliver. He likes to twist the truth and say he saved me. Sometimes I'd humor him and go along with it, but we both know the truth.
"So, Lilly," he said, shifting in my lap again, "what happened with you and Miley?"
I rolled my eyes. He's been asking this time and time again ever since we left Malibu three weeks ago. Apparently, Miley—little miss Hannah Montanta—and I got in a fight before me and Oliver left. I mean, really, she's always blaming things on other people and being all "Wah!" and "Daddy!", but I see though her little pop star facade. Her little "I'm Hannah and I do nothing wrong even though nobody's perfect...but me!"
"Ugh," I said, rolling my eyes for the millionth time that day when I heard a snippet of one of her songs followed by a nasally voice talking about "completing the circle" or some bullshit like that.
"See, Lilly. What is that? You were best friends. What happened?" he asked, reaching out for my hand that rested in his lap. He laced our fingers together, causing me to look into his chocolate brown eyes that were full of concern.
"We were, Oliver. Now drop it," I snapped, but he only continued to look at me with pleading eyes.
I know I sound really bitter. And Miley was my best friend. But come on, even you know how annoying she really is, right?
"Lilly, please. We're best friends," he squeezed my hand and pouted his lips, trying to persuade me into talking...and it worked.
"Fine," I sighed, giving in. "It all started before we left Malibu."
"Hey, Hannah!" I yelled as Miley emerged through the curtains that separated backstage from on stage, "awesome show tonight! That was thee best ever!" I squealed tilting my head and popping my foot to express my enthusiasm. But unfortunately, she didn't feel the same way.
"Oh yeah," she said mockingly, "didn't you hear how I stumbled on my words out there?" she motioned towards the stage, " I looked like a complete idiot!" She shook her head before walking swiftly towards her dressing room.
"Oh come on, like anyone noticed. You were still awesome out there," I tried cheering her up, but she didn't budge. She looked at me for a moment before turning away again. "Hey, stop!" I said, grabbing her arm before she reached her dressing room. "What's wrong, Miley?" I whispered, "you can tell me anything." I looked at her full of concern. She looked really tired and worn out. Maybe it was time she gave up being Hannah for a while.
"I really don't feel like talking right now, Lola." She looked towards her dressing room and back at me. "Sorry." She opened the door and proceeded to close it until I pressed my hand forcefully against it.
"Lilly, please," she whispered, but I ignored her and went inside anyway.
"Miley," I said sternly, shutting the door, "talk. Now."
She sighed dejectedly and sat down on the couch before replying, "I'm just gonna really miss you guys. I can't believe you're leaving me here all alone," she said motioning the space around her, trying to prove her point.
"We are not leaving you, Miley," I sat down beside her, putting an arm around her shoulder. "But we have to go. Oliver and I are going to college soon, remember?"
Her face scrunched up in disgust, but I thought nothing of it at the time. "Yeah, I do." She ran a hand through her Hannah wig. "It's just, you're going to college, you're going to be taking classes like a regular girl: you're moving on. But me, I'm stuck in Hannah world, taking classes online, moving from state to state. Face it, even if I am Miley, I'll never be a regular girl," she replied as I felt his shoulder slump.
I pulled her into a hug and replied, "then stop being Hannah."
Miley pulled away and looked into my eyes to see if I was serious. Her mouth hung agape until she spoke again, "give up being Hannah? Are you crazy? And let millions of fans down not to mention my mom, my dad, my mamaw, and myself." She looked at me incredulously again, "I love being Hannah, Lillly, why would I ever give it up?"
"I don't know, Miley, but you always seem to be complaining about it," I said frankly, letting go of her as I sat back on the couch. "It's great being in the lemonlight."
"First of all: it's limelight and second: complaining?!" she looked to me, but I just nodded. "You don't even know the half of it: getting up early, learning new choreography, getting constantly criticized by people, being followed wherever I go," she listed.
"Or you mean getting millions and millions of clothes, shoes, and money. Getting hot boys, riding in limos getting hot boys, being adored and idolized by fans and getting hot boys! How can you not love that?" I exclaimed while she just shook her head at me.
"Lilly, its not all about that. It's hard work: blood, sweat, and tears," she continued, pounding her fist to make her point."Stop being so ignorant!"
"I'm not ignorant, okay!? And I thought you were mad because you were going to miss me!" I threw my hands up and stood from the couch, looking away.
"I was! But not anymore. You don't even realize how much work I put into being Hannah! You can't just tell me to give it up!" She yelled at me, equally angry as I was.
"I wasn't even telling you, okay? I was trying to help you. I was trying to be a friend," I yelled back at her.
"Well you can try, but you don't succeed! Have fun with, Oliver!" she said while narrowing her eyes at me, "I'm sure you'll have a great time without me like always."
And right that second, I knew this wasn't about me at all.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You and Oliver! God, Lilly! It's always you two. You and him in Pre-K, you and him at the skate park, you and him surfing, you and him laughing at these "inside" jokes," she said using her fingers to quote herself. "What happened to the three musketeers, huh?" She crossed her arms over her chest.
"Hm, I think one kept being all whiny and started yelling at me," I answered back. "Why are you being so jealous all of a sudden?"
"It's not all of a sudden, Lilly." She looked at me one last time, her eyes full of anger and betrayl. "Just go, okay?"
And I did.
Okay. I was reading over this fic, or actually skimming over it and I realized I kinda made Miley blow out of proportion. I want to make this as realistic as possible. So I made Lilly at fault for this argument too.
Miley is not a bad person. She just feels left out. But then again, there's also another reason that you probably already know.