No More
by Damien J. Frost
Disclaimer: Hannah Montana, and all items associated with, are property of Michael Poryes, Richard Correll, Barry O'Brien, It's a Laugh Productions, Disney, et al. There is no profit being gained from the content of this story and it is to be used solely for private entertainment purposes. The plot is the intellectual property of the writer. No parts of this story are to be duplicated or posted elsewhere without the expressed permission of the author.
This story is rated "T" or "PG-13" by the guidelines of the fansite on which it is posted.
"Why do you always leave?"
I stop when she asks me that. I thought she was still sleeping, like always. When I turn and see her impossibly blue eyes looking at me, sad and resigned, I know my answer. And I know she'll hate me for it.
"Because you don't want me here."
She closes her eyes and rolls over to face the wall, and I know that's the end. If I had been wrong, she would have protested. I was convenient – something I had always known. She hates her husband, she hates her life. I was a constant. And I'm desperately in love with her.
I button my pants then fish my shirt off the floor and put it on.
With one last look at the blonde, I make for the door to her bedroom.
"I've always wanted you."
My hand is on the doorknob, and I freeze. My stomach drops at her words and I think I'm going to be sick. Because this is what I've always hoped to hear, and what I knew I never wanted to hear.
"Ever since we were seventeen and you had your first girlfriend. I always thought, 'That should be me.'"
I haven't moved yet. I don't think I can. I hear the rustle of sheets behind me and I know she is looking at me again.
"I've always wanted you, Miley."
And that, hearing my name from her lips, is what undoes me every time. She sighs it, like it gives her pain and pleasure to have it on her tongue. I turn, and look at her, and I know she's lying. I know she just wants me to come back again. So we can do this again.
So she can forget.
"I'm done."
And I am. I can't take this anymore. I've lost girlfriends and friends to this charade. Every time I've gotten close to someone, she manages to get in the way. And I can't continue being miserable in return for a few hours of bliss whenever she gets an itch she can't scratch.
"I need you."
Maybe she does. And that's what kills me the most about this. She was my best friend, but I can't even recognize the girl I knew in the woman before me, and it breaks my heart. I was in love with her when she was her. Now, I just feel an attachment to this stranger.
"I'm sorry."
I turn the knob and walk out. Before I reach the bottom of the stairs, I hear two sets of pounding feet. I turn and smile at the two children as they stand at the top. Her children. A boy and a girl, they were twins, and both looked like her.
"Hey Aunt Miley! Are you going to fix us breakfast?"
I shake my head and smile.
"Not today. I just had to do something for you mother, and now I have to go."
They look confused. I always make them breakfast, no matter how busy I am. But now, I can't be here. I can't face them, knowing what I do about their mother. I walk out the door before I can start crying. I don't want to cry in front of them, it's not their fault.
"Miley, hey! What are you doing here?"
I look up, startled. It's him. Her husband. The great guy she can't stand. I have nothing against him, he's never been anything but polite to me, and good to her. And now the guilt makes me almost puke, but I manage to hold it down.
"I just had to get something done before I head to England."
He looks surprised.
"Why England?"
I sigh and look back to the house and see her looking through the second-story window.
"Because it's a long way from here."
I ignore his confused look as I climb in my car and drive away, looking once more at the window where she stood.
She's gone.
