I actually wrote this a while ago and then lost it because the computer I was on was completely retarded, but since I doubt I will ever find it again and I'm in a sad-story mood, I'm writing it again. :)

(BTW, if you like this story and the sadness and all, thank the story "Look After You" on JBFFA. But I had to stop reading before it got too happy or I'd lose my sad-story mood.)

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May 4th, 2019
Los Angeles, California

Dear Miley,

Today is your wedding day. I got the invitation in the mail and all, but I can't possibly go, so I called you to say I had a business trip scheduled that day and that I was really sorry. And I am sorry, but for the wrong reasons. I'm sorry because after all these years, you're marrying him and not me. I'm sorry because I just can't handle watching you, so happy and glowing, marrying someone who isn't me. Someone luckier than me.

I loved you since the first day I met you, and while you might find it hard to believe, considering we met in fifth grade and that was back when you and Lilly still thought boys had cooties. But you were pretty and funny and weren't one of the boys like Lilly, but you weren't gossiping and giggling like Amber and Ashley and most of the girls at school. You were different. Special.

I never told you, ever, because you only thought of me as a friend. Every time I thought about telling you, someone else would come by and take you away from me. I mean, there was Josh and Trey and Johnny (twice!) and Hannah's new backup dancer and so many more, and then there was Jake. Jake Ryan, teen idol superstar or whatever he was. And even after you two broke up, I could just tell you still had feelings for him, and when you didn't, there was a new guy, and then there was Travis and well, after all these guys, how could I compete? Where would I figure?

I was just your best friend. That's why I thought maybe if I went out with Joannie I'd get over you. I didn't. Then I thought, hey, Lilly's my best friend. Maybe going out with her would help me get over you. Yeah, it didn't. Every girl I ever went out with – they were all a failed attempt to get over you. Failed, because I never did. Failed, because I have liked you since fifth grade, for about fifteen years now, and I still haven't forgotten you. No, scratch that. I could never forget you. That wouldn't happen. I could never get over you, stop these feelings I have for you, get rid of them.

When I had someone as beautiful as you next to me, how could I ever think of someone else? Sure, Joannie was pretty. Lilly's gorgeous, too, but she's my friend. I don't think I could ever find anyone half as beautiful as you are. Not that I want to, because honestly, while getting over you might stop how much it hurts every time I look at you, it still wouldn't be the same. I'm not Oliver if I don't like you. That person doesn't exist.

So now I'm writing to you on the day of your wedding to Travis because I'm not brave enough to show up. Because I don't want to see you happy and know I'm not the one making you happy (because I do want to see you happy, but with me). And Lilly will show up and complain about looking like a whale because she's so fat and she'll say something about killing Jake because it was his fault she looked like that in the first place (like she wasn't the one who asked him out) and you will laugh and probably not even realize I'm not there.

Okay, never mind. Maybe you will. How many times have we spent hours on the phone since I moved out east? How many times have we texted throughout the whole day and told each other what we were doing? That's what friends do. Friends tell each other everything and share everything and don't have feelings for each other. Considering this, are we really friends, then?

Travis is the luckiest man, because he has you, and he knows it. I don't hate him because I know you're happy and I want you to be, although I would much rather be the one with you. He's a great guy, and I know you won't ever regret marrying him because he loves you and supports you completely. Even if we spend so much time talking, he's never cared, because he's completely sure of the way you feel about him and he knows you wouldn't ever leave him. He's completely right, too, because I know you and I've seen the way you look at him, and I can tell you love him more than you probably ever thought was possible.

If I could call him up right now, I would tell him to take care of you. To keep you happy. To not mess with you when you're in the middle of writing a song, because that's when you're at your moodiest. But he probably knows, doesn't he? But does he know how you drink your coffee, with no milk but about half a cup of sugar? And how you hate eating pancakes with syrup and butter, so you eat one with syrup and the other with butter?

Does he know that when you sleep, you move when you're having a good dream, because you've always been too hyper, even in your sleep? Does he know that when you don't move at all, you're having a bad dream? Does he know you talk to your mom every day, in your head, and visit her on her birthday and on Mother's Day and on Easter because that was her favorite holiday? And that every time you go, you take a rose, a carnation and a tulip, because she liked those three flowers so much she could never pick just one?

Has he noticed how you bite your lip when you're thinking hard? How you play with your hair when you're nervous and can't sit still so you cross and uncross your legs over and over? Does he realize how completely different you are when you're Hannah, how you built up this whole person with likes and dislikes and bad habits and nervous habits, all different from Miley's?

Maybe he has. Maybe he hasn't. Either way, he's the one who's with you. And I'm not. And I thought I could handle it in California, that I loved you too much to be away from you, but I was wrong. So I moved to New York, got a new job, made new friends, but this has never helped. It hasn't changed the way I feel about you, not even one bit.

That's why I'm writing this. Because this is my closure, because after I write this and send it, I won't think about you as much. Of course, I still want to be your friend – I'm not strong enough to keep myself away from you. But I'm going to stop letting my feelings for you make me who I am. I'm going to be myself and not the guy who likes his best friend.

I'm actually dating someone. Her name is Andie and she likes theatre (something you never liked because you couldn't sit through a whole show) and reading (another thing you never did) and she can't sing at all. She's actually a journalist, and she's interviewed you before. She's actually a big fan. And her hair is bright red – this shade you wouldn't believe – and curly and her eyes are green like the leaves on the trees in Central Park.

She loves reading, and watching old movies. She comes over and we watch two, three, four movies at the time. She wrinkles her nose in this adorable way when she's thinking, and she has the nervous habit of tapping her fingers against any surface.

She's always wanted to play guitar but said she never could twist her fingers to play the chords, but she used to take piano lessons and stopped because she thought her fingers were too clumsy and chubby and slow, which isn't true, but I've tried to convince her and it won't work.

The only thing she has in common with you is how stubborn she is. She's always completely dead-set in what she thinks and only a handful of times have I been able to change her mind in something. That's the only thing that ever reminds me of you, which is, in a way, proof that no matter how hard I tried, I could never pull myself away from you.

I'm proposing to her tonight. I know you and Lilly have no idea who she is and didn't even know we were dating, but we've been together for a year, two months and three days. Andie counted it and told me last night. She moved in with me two months ago, and I love her. I never thought I would be able to love anyone else, but I do.

When I first started dating her, she was the same as all the other girls, but there's something about her that made me realize I wanted to be with her. I don't know what it is yet, but maybe one day I will figure it out and I can tell you.

I know you're happy and I'm glad you are. But I want to happy, and I'm sorry if reading this makes you sad, but be happy, because in a short time, I will be. Please, Miles. I love you as a friend and more, but I also want to be happy with someone else. Don't cry (like I know you will), and show Travis. Tell him about the letter and explain everything to him. You will feel better.

I bought plane tickets for next month, when you come back from your honeymoon. I'll be there to say hi to you, and I'm bringing Andie with me. She knows everything I've told you here and more, and she can't wait to meet her. She knows how I feel about you and doesn't care, because she knows that I will be completely hers soon. That's one of the things I like best about her. That she is willing to be with someone like me, someone who already belongs to someone else.

But not for much longer.

I love you,

Oliver.

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So, what'd you think? The first time I wrote it, she was marrying Jake, but I like how this one turned out better. Review, please?