Disclaim: I don't own Hannah Montana, or it's characters. Nor do I own The Notebook, Brokeback Mountain, or the Titanic and it's characters. I do not own NJ Legion Iced Tea by A Day to Remember.
Alright, so, this is totally AU. Miley's mother never died, she never moved to Malibu, Hannah Montana doesn't exist (although Miley still loves music.) Lilly is still best friends with Oliver, but also everyone else mentioned.
This idea has been swimming around in my head for a while, and I've tried to start quite a few times but I think this way is best. Hope you like it, and all feedback is welcomed/appreciated.
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"Love sought is good, but given unsought is better."
-William Shakespeare
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Everyone falls in love someday, but you can't ask for it. I wasn't really asking for it, well, obviously I wasn't, seeing as to how hard it bit me in the ass, but that's the rule: It happens when you least expect it.
I never understood what the eager, hungry kisses performed in The Notebook or Brokeback Mountain were supposed to mean, and I didn't truly understand why Rose ran back to Jack in the Titanic. I got that she 'loved' him, but I couldn't compensate with what, exactly, she was feeling. Still, I always secretly wished I did.
The tears are dry, salty lines now and my head rests against the window as I gaze out into the black, bright red and white lights trailing by behind the ghostly shadows of darker cars, flying beside ours on the freeway.
And I think of her. I think of lush emerald fields running on so far they make horizon with the vastest stretches of cornflower blue skies, and the warmest cobalt eyes that I can almost still feel aimed at me, burning me up like nothing else. I'm in the warm waters, I'm wearing beads of the sun, her lips have branded my skin and really, amazing things don't happen to me often, but the way I couldn't forget her and the feelings she stuffed me full to capacity with makes up for everything. The event that I met her, the way god smacked me upside the head with the axis of my life, and spun me right around to see the other side, was the most gracious gift ever bestowed of me.
The tears are dry, but I can definitely feel some more stinging and the lump in my throat becoming sore again. I'm not in a box. I'm won't be trapped in this despair forever. Yeah, I'm heartbroken, but I won't be ungrateful about this. I promised.
I close my eyes to trap the tears, and go back to the beginning so I can read my favorite story all over again, just to calm me down.
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"Well, guys, see you in three months," I bit out a little louder than necessary. I hear my mom sigh under her breath as she rounded the car to shove another thing we probably don't need into the already full trunk.
Oliver lets out a hoarse yelp and engulfs me in another hug. My vision is full of his baby blue shoulder and my nose floods with the scent of Tag. To attract the ladies, he likes to say.
"I'm gonna miff you fo mohch!" He tells my own shoulder.
"It's okay Oliver, I'll be back," I say with a light pat on the back as I motion for everyone else to detach him from me. I was mostly joking, but I knew the second I got homesick, I'd miss Oliver the most.
Amber, Ashley, Matt, Connor and Sarah pull him off and I hug them each one last time.
I give them a small, weak smile and I'm the last one to get in the car. Amber pushes the door shut, grinning at me sadly, and says again how much she'd miss me. I tell her the same as we began to roll out of the driveway, waving to them all as we proceed down the street.
When my friends were out of sight, I let out a hearty sigh and glared up into the side view my mom was looking in as I stuck my headphones in my ears. She caught my look and smiled at me hopefully. I gave her an extremely tiny smile back, fighting the urge to slam my head into the window because, god, I could not believe she was forcing me on this trip!
I've been voicing my irritation and blunt rage towards her over stealing my one and only summer as a sixteen year old and making me waste it in fucking Hick Land, Tennessee, staring a cows and blades of grass for three fucking months enough for the past week. Time to be the bigger woman, Lillian.
We pull out of the neighborhood into town, NJ Legion Iced Tea blaring through my headphones, and I rest my head against the window and just observe.
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I feel something jab into my arm a couple times, and open my eyes to find the car illuminated by the roof light, cutting through the nighttime. I turn to face Max, the product of my parent's infamous almost-divorce nine years ago. Whoops. Well luckily they worked everything out, and he seems to be their trophy for it.
"We're here?" I drone in a scratchy voice as I pluck out a headphone. It's only me and him in the car, the driver and passenger's doors open to what I find is a gas station.
"No, you've only been sleeping for two hours," he says to his DS, "Mom and dad wanted me to wake you up."
"Oh. Is there any food?" I don't know why I'm actually talking to my annoying little brother. I should be strangling him some more for the little stunt he pulled before we left the house. But of course, he only gets a slap on the hand for housing his dead, half-rotted mouse in my suitcase. Well, that's what he got from mom. I think my physical discipline was a little more effective.
"It's all packed away, but you can have my Pop Tart," he says, handing me the foil-encased pastries.
See? Now he's treating me right. I took a bite and surveyed it—you never know with Max.
I heaved a sigh. "Do you even want to go on this trip?" I asked him.
"Well, yeah. I like Uncle Dean and Aunt Tiff, and Chris, Evan, Darlene, Heather and all them."
Oh, did I mention I'm going to be living in a house with seven kids, the oldest being eleven? I don't care how nice the house is, last time when my parents baited me with that, it turned into a week of babysitting so mom and her little sis could hang out non-stop at the country club. God, I hate my life.
I put my headphones back in and continue eating. My parents get situated in the car and I fall asleep again, until we arrive at the airport.
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I feel a little silly for expecting to land in a wooden shack instead of a large, glossy airport. Last time, we drove here. Not making that mistake again.
I tread behind my parents, tugging my hoodie down and following them out to the rented car. Despite how boring I knew this whole trip was going to be (seriously, though, why does it have to be the entire three months?!), I feel a childish sense of adventure swipe through me. I immediately stabbed and killed it—I wouldn't let my hopes get up only to die a tragic death.
We reach an unfamiliar gray Durango I feel strange buckling into, and my parents scanned the map together. I'm actually pretty happy they didn't go through with that divorce. I can only imagine the mess my mom would be without him.
I always wonder what, exactly, she feels when she sees him. I know what a crush is, but I hear it's nothing compared to true love. I wonder what my mother feels when she sees my father's tanned skin, wrinkles from smiling so much weathered into his face, or really, how she still finds his growing beer gut and jock-ish arrogance on everything attractive now. I've seen pictures of him when he was young, muscular, and tan, with an adorable grin. She says that's what reeled her in, but what made her stay was the beauty she saw in his heart, no matter how brash or hot headed he was on the outside.
I can't say I knew what she meant, but I would always nod and say, "Oh." I mean, my dad's a great guy, always inspiring and pushing to do better, which I know he only does to me to prepare me for life. But the truth is, whenever I imagine what love is like, I draw a big, fat blank. And it kind of frustrates me.
We race down the highway as I fall into my usual idea of meeting a gorgeous, funny, fun guy sometime in college, preferably a brunette with light blue eyes and I sigh.
That dream seems to bore me nowadays.
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The house is golden yellow, but it's more calming than obnoxious. It has two stories, but the top is cut short width-ways to make an L-structure by side profile. In fact, if you look around the front, there's a balcony smack dab in the center of the top story, sitting on top of the bottom perfectly. It's surrounded by the familiar brown roofing. There's a huge wrap around porch, white railing tracing the perimeter, and the driveway comes into garage doors branching out from the side. From my seat I can see the pens of horses and pigs and cows over near the barn, and when I get out it definitely smells like a farm.
Three of my little cousins hang over short side meeting the corner of the railing, studying us curiously, while the some stand with Uncle Dean and Aunt Tiff.
"Hey guys!" Aunt Tiff chirps. She has chestnut brown hair contrasting my mother's pure blonde, and despite the age difference she's a little taller and slinkier. Uncle Dean is pretty buff, clad in clean carpenter jeans, work boots, and a red button-down shirt half tucked in. I resist the urge to snicker when I compare him to a male stripper in a carpenter's attire. It's a little awkward when I hug them both, but I know that'll melt away fast.
Most of the kids pelt themselves at me, and I say "Hey," to each one as I'm engulfed with warm, skinny, bony arms. I'm proud of myself for remembering all their names.
They lead us inside, but I glance back at the view. The sun is on the brink of setting, and I make a mental note to creep out onto the balcony later and watch it. No matter how much I hate this visit, I can't deny that the sight is gorgeous.
The little kids are zooming through the house, but I just head into the kitchen with my parents, aunt, and uncle, as they chatter and laugh loudly. Everything's busy and full, like a party. It's satisfying.
I take a seat on the wooden wrap around booth, bordering a large kitchen table swarmed with tons of dishes, dinner for us.
Aunt Tiff says immediately, "God, Lilly, you sure grew up." She doesn't have a country accent like Uncle Dean. Her and my mother are 100% California girls.
"Yeah, she's gorgeous, isn't she?" My mom says, and both of them gazing at me in a type of awe. My dad and Uncle Dean are talking about a football game. The two of them have been best friends since college—they met my mom and her sister together. The four of them are pretty close.
I hate when this happens, although I really don't. "Alright, enough staring." I chuckled, "How you doing Aunt Tiff?"
"Oh I'm doing great, honey, how 'bout you?" She says with a movie star white smile and deep red-violet colored lips.
"Not bad. It's really nice here." If she had asked a day or two ago, my answer would be a little different.
"Yeah, your mom told me how you didn't want to come, but we'll do a lot of stuff and have fun. Maybe tomorrow the kids can show you around the yard and take you into town and all?"
"Sounds good," I grin.
My mom chimes in, "See, Lilly? Told you you'll have fun."
I give her a fake, sweet smile, as Aunt Tiff and Uncle Dean round up their kids and my brother for dinner.
We eat, and every now and then one of the younger kids will say something that makes me feel like I'm in the audience of an episode of Kids Say the Darnest Things, or whatever. But the ham, turkey, burgers, scalloped potatoes, sweet potatoes, and even the cheesy broccoli are to die for. Southerners really know how to get down in the kitchen, man.
Aunt Tiff tells me, my mom, and my dad a hilarious story while I help clean up. I feel some jet lag setting in. When my mother sees this, she tells me I've had a long day and should go to sleep.
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I slip into the plushy guest bed, extremely soft and squishy, just how I like a mattress. The window up above my bed behind me is propped open and a light breeze sweeps across my face.
I sigh, settling into rest-mode. But I'm a little peeved; I can already feel this becoming a tedious routine. I try not to look around at the mostly familiar room so I don't get sick of it.
I close my eyes. Soon, I'm skating, which I love to do but Amber and Ashley often interfere with to drag me out shopping. I'm flying down a hill secured to my piece of wood only by the grip tape and the gummy soles of my skate shoes. I could tumble off and break this; the peace, the flight, in mere moments, with the slightest adjustment.
I soar into dreamland.
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Okay, a little boring, but I wanted to introduce Lilly's dad, Max, and of course Aunt Tiff and somewhat Uncle Dean. I also wanted to show that Lilly's still herself, although without Miley, different. She seems a little OOC to me, actually, I don't know how Lilly would see things in her head, so I use how I see them, from a slightly more judicious standpoint, maybe? Whatevss. Things will probably start happening in chapter two. I feel like I rushed this, but I'm okay with it. What do you think? I can always make changes.