A/N: I'm not exactly sure what to call this. When I was writing it, I was thinking of it as a 'Jola' or 'Loe' , but the guy's name is never really revealed so it could really be whatever pairing you want. Also, its set around the basis that Lola has because just as famous as Hannah was, only she's an actress, and she's Just Lola, there is no Lilly or Miley. Also, If you choose to think of any of the Jonas brothers as the main guy, they aren't famous yet.

ps. Ignore the fact that it snows in Malibu. How about we say they live in New York. -- I really should have thought that one through.

Disclaimer: We all know I don't own it, okay?

My Only Regret

She was young and she was talented, and I was hopelessly in love with her. She was a star, a teenage actress with a passion for life and a deep fire in her soul. The red carpets called her name and the cameras were drawn to every aspect of her. She was beautiful, she was gorgeous, she was my best friend. She was the candle in a dark room and the sunshine in a thunderstorm. She just had this way about her that made you feel whole, a smile that gave you reassurance that everything would be okay. Her eyes were the most amazing sea green colour and I could swear that she was the only one in the world who possessed them. Her long dark purple hair was ever changing, soft curls one day, pin straight the next. She was unique in her own way and I would have never changed her for the world.

It was early in December when I finally found out. The snow was falling for the first time that year and I was preparing for the night ahead. It was the 6th, and her newest film would be premiering that night. She had asked me to come along and I accepted as I always did. I had always been her right-wing, her sidekick, trailing beside her as paparazzi took pictures and reporters anxiously asked her the questions everyone wanted to know. They never really paid me much attention, but I hardly cared because I wasn't there for the media, I was there for her, and only her.

She arrived fashionably late to my house, pulling up in the limo, calling me to hurry downstairs. With a last check in the mirror I ruffled my dark brown hair and loosened the tie a tad. It wasn't a formal premier, by far, but she had always insisted I look put together for these sorts of events. I couldn't complain though, I was getting to spend nights at celebrity parties and meeting people I had previously only dreamed of, and hey, at least I didn't have to wear a tux.

Pulling open the limo door, I climbed inside next to her, looking over her outfit. She had always been good at looking so fashionable. Her choppy bangs were straightened, but the rest fell down around her shoulders in the slightest dark purple curls. She had a black hat that leaned to the left slightly to just cover one eye. I remember thinking for a moment that she should tilt it up because I loved seeing the colour of her eyes. Surveying the rest of her attire, I noted the grey pinstriped short shorts, a white t-shirt, and a vest over that which matched her shorts.

"Cute Shirt," She noted, tugging on my tie lightly and laughing. I laughed as well, it was so contagious.

"Nice shoes," I fired back, glancing down at the black peep toe pumps accented with a tiny lace bow, "Have fun walking in those all night."

"They are nice, aren't they?" She asked, looking them over, ignoring my second comment. "Marc Schneider gave them to me for free! Just because I'd be wearing them and promoting his brand. Isn't that so awesome?" She had been publicly known as a celebrity for some time now, but she spoke about everything like it was so new to her. She would always tell me about how it never got old for her- about how she took everything in and appreciated it because she knew it wouldn't be there forever. I had never really known what she meant until that day.

The paparazzi had a field day when she stepped out of the limo. She smiled brightly at all the cameras, and I slowly slid out behind her. I was never their focus of attention, but I was always hers. She grabbed my hand, pulling me along the red carpet next to her. I could never quite get used to the flashes, and there were plenty of times when I'd come across her pictures on fan sites where I'd have my eyes squinted in the background and my smile at an odd angle, but she always looked amazing. She always faced them like a pro, smiling with all her heart and letting her eyes shine with the true passion she had.

"Miss Luftnagle! Lola!" They all shouted to her, calling her, waving to her. She would always walk closest to the rails, smiling at fans, taking pictures with them and giving them her autograph. She was always so great with them. She treated them like no less than her because she knew she owed this much to them for giving her the chance to get where she was.

And then the snow began to fall. In it's own way it was a metaphor of the end of autumn, and preparation of the cold to come. The coloured leaves had all fallen from their branches and there was nothing left for them to do, nothing left for the trees to hide behind. They were bear, clear for everyone to see, to judge as they waited for the ice to form on their branches. It was then that she collapsed.

"Miss Luftnagle, what was it like to work with Mr-" And then the screams came. I had first noticed her sway a couple minutes ago as she was walking further down the carpet. I hadn't really taken too much thought to it, it happened pretty often. With her late nights and her early mornings, she had never really gotten enough sleep. She was usually tired, her eyelids drooping sometimes as she swayed before she caught herself-- but this time she let herself fall.

"Lola!" I remember yelling. I was at her side in a moments time, catching her just before she connected with the ground. Fans were screaming, reporters filming, other celebrities looking on shocked. And yet with everyone around us, no one made any moves to help her. No one came forward. It was as if they were all frozen, but the volume was coming from the surround sound. The noise was chaotic from all angles, but still no one moved.

"Somebody help!" I yelled again, pulling her up against me. Her entire body was lifeless and her breathing was shallow. From the corners of my eyes I could see the entire scene around me burst into life. Someone, somewhere must've called an ambulance because I could hear the sirens in the distance and I prayed for them to come quicker.

"Lola? Lola, hey." I smiled, holding her head up as her eyelids opened slowly. She immediately closed them again as cameras continued to take pictures.

"Can you stay awake for me?" I asked her, running my hand over her forehead slowly. I could feel her nod softly as I continued to brush back her hair. Still no one moved to help her as I sat with her on the carpet.

"Your okay," I told her, "I promise." She only smiled weakly and soon the paramedics had loaded her into the ambulance. I stayed by her side, still holding her hand from when she'd pulled me out of the limo. I hadn't even realized our fingers were interlaced all along the carpet, but it didn't matter now. All that mattered to me was that she was okay.

When we reached the hospital they were quick to take her in. They rolled her down the hallway on a stretcher, and I followed as far as I could. Regretfully, I had to let my grip fall loose from hers because only 'family' was allowed. Both her parents had stayed by her side as I watch them continue down the hallway through the swinging doors until they fully closed.

I didn't stray once from the waiting room. The chairs were terribly uncomfortable and I couldn't concentrate enough to read a magazine- not that they were any good anyways. She was the only thing on my mind. I waited for what must have been two or three hours, worried out of my mind. The only thought that occurred to me was that she just had to be okay, because I had promised her she would be. I needed her to be alright, and I needed her to make it through no matter what it was. I knew she was strong, and I knew that she knew she could always count on me to be there for her.

Finally a doctor came out to speak with me. I prepared myself for terrible news, but the woman came to me with only smiles.

"I'm sorry it took so long. She missed her routine treatment last week, so we needed to treat her before we could allow visitors." I had no idea what she was talking about, but she continued on, un-phased, "She's been asking for you. She was worried you would have gone home by now." Another few words later, the doctor had lead me to her room, leaving me to go inside. Slowly I had turned the knob, stopping when I heard the voices of her parents. I didn't want to intrude, so I stayed silent.

"Lola, you haven't told him?" Her mother had asked her sadly.

"No, Mom, I don't want to." Her voice replied back, as stubborn as ever.

"Oh honey, he deserves to know. You can't hide something like this forever."

"I know, Mom." Her voice cracked, and my eyes scrunched up in confusion, "But I don't want him to see me differently. I don't want him to treat me like I'm a pity case."

"Honey, he would never-"

"Mom, please," She was pleading now. I could almost imagine the tears coming down her face. "I don't want these last months to change. I don't want him to know I have Mellimia." And then I ran.

When I got home, I had raced up my stairs, missing several on my quest to the computer. The very first thing I did was search the Google engine for Mellimia, and the very next thing I did was cry. It was a disease- a disease I had never known she had. A disease she had never though she should tell me about, and according to the doctors words, a disease she had been receiving 'routine treatments' for.

It was almost like a cancer, and as I read more, it terrified me. I couldn't imagine how she had been so brave for so long. She had faced the public eye with a wide smile and gave life her all. And I finally realized why she had taken it all and loved every moment of it. She never could be certain how much time she really had left, and she made the very best of it.

It was January when I finally told her that I knew. She had gone into the hospital on the 9th after collapsing again. After spending the last two months researching, I had become fairly educated on the topic. I had noticed the subtle changes and all the signs that every single website and book had told me to 'watch out' for. She was wearing glasses now, and she had cut several inches off her long dark purple hair. All the magazines were calling it the new 'winter chique' look, but I knew the truth. The disease had most likely spread to her eyes, distorting her vision, and the cut was because the disease caused her hair to thin out. None of it mattered though, she would always be Lola to me. Whether she was a famous teenage actress or a diagnosed Mellimic patient, she would always be my best friend.

"Hey," I had slowly entered her hospital room, "Feeling better?" She smiled back at me, waving me over to her bedside until I came to sit beside her.

"Yes, much." Playing with the threads on her blanket, she suddenly avoided my gaze, "I've just been so busy, and school work is terrible, and I haven't gotten enough rest. It's unavoidable that I'd collapse every once and a while from overload-"

"I know." I whispered, cutting her off.

"What?" Her head raised slowly, but I lowered mine. I was almost ashamed to admit I knew; to admit that I had overheard her private conversation.

"I know," I raised my head to meet her gaze and I could see the fear in her eyes. She didn't blink once in that moment and neither did I. The silence was deafening as she searched my eyes for the answer she didn't want. When she found it, I watched the tears form in her eyes and then she turned away from me.

"Lola..." I spoke so quietly, I wondered if it had been my imagination. My hand instantly reached out to hers, grabbing it, but she tore away quickly.

"Please don't look at me." She said it just as quiet.

"Why?"

"Because I'm horrible," She looked at me with her sea green eyes and for once, it pained me to see them. Those sea green eyes that had always been so full of passion and life held this dark, unbearable pain and sadness in them. It was a look that shook my soul; a look I will never forget in my life.

"Can't you see? I'm diseased." She cried, burying her face into her hands and sobbing.

"Can't you see?" I countered, pulling her hands away from her face and lacing my fingers through them, "Your beautiful."

It was February when I finally heard she was refusing treatments. She had been readmitted on the 13th, and for the last two weeks she had been in the hospital. It was safe to say the media was on edge. Everyone had at least heard of her collapse back in December and rumors were beginning to brew. They had been put off several times, Lola's representatives telling reporters that she was 'on vacation' when asked about her whereabouts, but the truth was inevitable. Her secret was still kept highly under wraps, and I learned she had kept it this way for the past year since she was diagnosed. She, as well as everyone else, knew that she couldn't keep it a secret for long.

I kept her company in the hospital room for days on end. She would let me read poems and short stories that she'd written the night before, or we'd watch television, play cards, or just talk. She never really liked to talk about her disease, she had told me it made her feel hopeless because she knew what would happen eventually. Naturally, it was a shock to me when she brought it up quite bluntly.

"You know, I've stopped receiving treatments, thats why I'm in here. They want to keep a closer watch on me." She was so open and so natural with it that it took me a moment to register just what she was saying.

"What?" I asked, concerned. My attention had immediately snapped from the television and to her as she lied in the bed.

"I'm not getting the treatments anymore. I'm eighteen now, so its my choice, and I've decided I don't want them anymore."

"What?!" I almost screamed, "Why?" She turned to me, looking into my soul with her sea green eyes. She was beyond wise for her age, but she had these young eyes; young eyes that didn't deserve to have that amount of pain and understanding in them. She reached out and grabbed my hand and I think I was more afraid than she was.

"Because I'm going to die anyways," She told me with a grim smile. The heartbroken look on my face never faded and the horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach settled there. I had always known in the back of my head, but the fact that even she was acknowledging it made it too real for me, and the last thing I wanted was for it it be real.

"No-No, you're not." I pleaded. I was more trying to convince myself than her, "Your going to be fine."

"It's okay," She smiled her best smile, "I know I'm dying, and it's okay. I've lived my life, I mean, look at me," She laughed, "I've walked red carpets, I've gone to Hollywood parties, I've gotten free Marc Schneider shoes." I couldn't help but crack a smile at that, remembering how excited she'd been that night over the peep toed pumps.

"But most importantly, I've had you, and I would rather die now, than live forever and have never met you. You've made my life perfect."

"No, your what's perfect." And in that Moment, I knew she would forever be my hero, if only because she was brave enough to face this knowing she was fighting a losing battle. And what made me love her even more was that she accepted that, and she embraced it.

It was March when I finally accepted it. She died in her sleep on the 20th, and I finally let go. As the month had progressed, she had gotten worse and worse. Without weekly treatments she wasn't getting the bare minimum of what she needed to survive. She had woke up almost blind at the beginning of the month and had cried because she couldn't see me anymore. My heart had broken fifty times over for her. A week before she passed, she had lost most of the strength in her body. She could hardly move, and she told me that her head constantly felt like it was moving in circles.

The funeral had been beautiful, but the pictures could never capture the spirit inside her. I would forever miss the beautiful soul she had been blessed with. The media had taken the shock when they learned on the 20th. She had managed to live out her life without the world knowing, just like she had wanted. The world mourned for her, but none of them really felt the pain, and the darkness. None of them had seen the understanding behind her eyes. They hadn't watched her life drain away from her.

And it was finally April when the snow lifted off the ground, and the first leaves grew on the trees. April is where winter came to a close and the spring began again. April is where the trees revived from the cold, harsh conditions of winter, and April is where I realized that she wasn't coming back. April is where the story ends, and when I look back on the story, I realize that I have only one regret; that I never told her I loved her.

Fin.

A/N: Just so you don't Google it, Mellimia is Not a real disease. Anyways, I hope you liked it since it's the first time I've written something for the HM section. I might be coming out with another HM story shortly depending on how busy I am. It's summer, but I draw a lot, so whatever I have started, I'd like to finish before writing. Ps. Go check out the two drawings I have uploaded on my profile and tell me what you think.

Review and I'll love you forever!