A Love to Last Through The Year 3000

Miley gazed into the bright silver façade of her dressing room mirror, examining her luscious lips and the small, perfect white pearls that were her teeth. She grimaced at her reflection, unaware of how beautiful she looked despite the harsh lights of the vanity and the pained expression on her face. Nick always said that she was cute when she was mad.

Nick…

It was painful to think of him now, after that argument. It was sharp in her memory, and it echoed in the corners of her mind now as her view of the mirror began to blur, glittery soft tears spilling down her cheeks and splashing onto the polished wood of her desk.

"Nick, what's the matter?" She had asked after their last band practice. He had been singing as usual, and she couldn't ignore the tickling sensation of butterflies in her stomach that she felt every time she heard the rich, flowing melody of his voice, which was sensual and mature beyond his fifteen years. All of a sudden, in the middle of a song, he had dropped to the floor in a dead faint, and Miley's heart dropped to the floor along with his limp body. "Nick!" She cried, her voice cracking in anguish and concern. She rushed to his side, kneeling and peering down into his sweet brown eyes, which were half- sheathed by his fluttering lids and partially obscured by a few tendrils of the raven locks she loved to run her fingers through. "Nick, what's the matter?"

He pushed himself up off of the floor, beads of perspiration trickling down the nape of his neck. His face was unusually flushed; as if he was embarrassed for the fright he had just given poor Miley. "I'm fine," he muttered in an unfamiliarly gruff voice. "But," Miley started to say...

"Just leave me alone!" He yelled, and Miley felt it like a quick slap across the face.

"I'm sorry…"

But he had run off down the glaring white hallway of the recording studio, which eerily reminded her of a hospital.

Miley snapped her focus back to reality. She realized that the tears caused by her numbing retrospective had caused her precisely applied makeup to smudge, and she gently dabbed her aquamarine eyes with her silk sleeve. She could not understand why Nick had acted that way, when he was usually so kind and free-spirited. She could drown in those eyes; they were doe-like and innocent, and the shortest gaze instilled a profound sense of trust in her. Her eyes were now rimmed with dripping black, and her beauty was haunting and unfathomable. Why had Nick been so callous? How could the most charming, kind spirit she knew act with such inexplicable cruelty?

All of a sudden she heard a rapping on her door. It was urgent, and her Hannah Montana star rattled with each knock. She ran to the door and opened it, and was shocked to see none other than Nick Jonas standing in her doorway. "Miley.." he whispered, and she felt the butterfly sensation once more. "Miley, I have something to tell you. Two things, actually."

She was rigid with fear and yet curious at the same time. What could he possibly say to explain his actions?

"Miley… I have Diabetes. That's why I've been acting so irritable. I'm thirsty all the time and I've been treating those that I care about most as if they were my worst enemies. I'm so sorry. I've decided to open up about my struggle to help the youth of today. I hope to be a beacon of light in the dark, lonely world of childhood Diabetes."

Miley was overwhelmed with emotion. It wasn't Nick's fault; his disease had caused him to act so strangely. She was so proud of him in that moment; her heart was filled to the brim with respect that Nick had chosen to reveal such a personal problem with the world. His cause was so just and honorable; she just wanted to kiss him for it. So that's what she did. She wrapped her arms around him in her warm embrace and kissed him gently, but he responded with such passion that she felt as if she was flying.

"So what's the second thing you have to tell me?" she whispered in his ear.

"I love you."