It was a normal day. Really. Nothing was happening. You woke up and admired the ring on your finger, then you cuddled with one of your many dogs for a few minutes before finally getting up and ready to go to work. Once at work you recited your words perfectly for twelve hours, then you went home. You made yourself a cup of coffee because it was low calorie and it's really bringing back your fan-base with all the weight the weight you've lost the past few months. Then, even though it's late, you kick up your feet and turn on the TV for the first time in a week.
That's when your day is interrupted. That's when suddenly it becomes not so normal and a chaotic mess instead, all because the doorbell rings. That's always what he brings with him, though – a mess. A mess that the two of you clearly have no idea to clean up nor do you learn from it, because in the long run, one of you always comes back.
You groan, but get up anyway going to the door. You're tired and cranky and honestly whoever has the nerve to ring your doorbell at eleven is pretty damn gutsy, because you can't make any promises you won't kill them. But when you open that door, you freeze at the figure standing on your porch.
"You're engaged," he breathes.
You stare at him shocked. His chocolate brown eyes, his messy curls, his stupid plaid button up, it's all there. He's all there, standing in the dim light of your front porch and you don't know what to do.
Finally, you comprehend what he said, curtly nodding. "I am."
"To him?"
You look down, nodding again. Every memory of your first love crosses through your mind. His soft lips, the tenderness when he kissed you, the way you poured your soul out to him... The man in front of you isn't that boy anymore and you find that incredibly disheartening, because man, did you love that boy.
You aren't trying to be rude with your short responses, you just don't know what to do. His visit is – as always – completely unexpected and a teensy bit inappropriate, and the tension there. You want to do so many things all at the same time. So, due to your speechlessness, you simply nod once again, confirming that, "To Liam."
He hesitates, and you know he's trying to keep his comment and hurt inside of him so you don't have to see it, but as expected, it eventually comes out.
"What about me?"
You close your eyes.
"What about me, Nick?" you ask, desperation lacing through the question.
He stares at you and neither of you are sure what to say. You can't look at him, because if you do you know you'll get tears in your eyes. If you get tears in your eyes you'll cry again. You can't cry again, not over him. You promised yourself you would never cry over him again.
"I always thought it'd be you and me forever."
You open your mouth, then close it again. There's so much to say. The two of you have so many things that you can talk about, so many ways that you can easily fall in love again.
"I have to go," you whisper.
His hand stops you from slamming the door in his face. "You loved me once...didn't you?"
The doubt is in his eyes. He has trouble believing the connection the two of you once had. Your heart falls at the pure innocence in his eyes, the disbelief that's there. It was so long ago that now it seems like a dream. But it wasn't a dream, because if it was, you wouldn't feel so horrible every day of your life.
"I loved you more than anything," you confirm.
"Then why?" he begs. It's the question he's wondered for quite awhile now. "Why not me?"
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block him out. You don't want to have another flashback – all you have lately is flashbacks of how perfect things used to be. You're tricking yourself. It wasn't all roses and sunshine with Nick, it was dirty weeds and rainclouds too. In fact, it was rarely ever a good day. So why did they look so much better now?
"I'll always love you more, but I'm better without you."
His eyes fall. After all these years, one of you has finally said the truth. Those are the words both of you have needed to hear for quite some time now. His eyes catch the ring on your finger and for a moment you swear there are tears in his eyes.
"So, this is it, then?" he asks.
Suddenly you can't face him. You can't meet his eyes because you know that if you do you'll take him back in an instant, and you can't. You love it when he's here, but you're better when he's gone. And that fact kills you more than anything, because the way you love him... No one understands.
"You're invited, if you want to come," you try to stay strong.
He shakes his head. "We both know that's not a wedding I'd go to."
You can accept that. In all honesty, you'd never be able to go to his wedding either. If you did you know you wouldn't be able to control yourself. You would make a scene again and his mother would hate you even more. They all must hate you. The family that was once your second family is now the family that you're sure bashes you at the dinner table.
"I'm sorry," you tell him honestly.
"You love him," he shrugs. "I hope he makes you happy, Miley."
"I'm not apologizing for the wedding, because I know that needs to happen," you murmur, softly. "Everything I did... I'm sorry."
He nods. "You're finally happy. Don't apologize for that."
He turns to go, but before he does you call out to him again. He turns around and you hesitate, but just when he's about to walk away forever you find the right words.
"I really wish it could have been you."
He quickly faces the ground and you know you're making him show his emotions and you know how much he hates that. "Me too."
Then, he goes around and walks to his car, fiddling with his phone for a moment before pulling out of your driveway for the last time. You hear your phone beep from the kitchen and go get it, tears finally falling when you read the message.
I would have picked you. Always has been you, always will be. I hope he makes you happy, Miley. I really, really do.
Out of all the sad messages he's ever sent you, this one hits the hardest by far. And as you're alone, you do what you promised yourself the day you got engaged you would never do again. You fall to the ground right there, curl up in a ball, and break down because this is the only way you can handle it.
You love it when he's here. You're just better when he's gone.
And that fact kills you. It kills you softly, and kills you slowly, but no doubt, it kills you. Because no matter what, you'll always love him just a little bit more.
I rarely say this about my own writing, but I like this oneshot a lot. I hope you did too.