(A.N.) Thanks for reading my other stories peoples. I would appreciate reviews for this, and I don't own Hannah Montana or The NBB.
She's not perfect.
Nobody is.
Even Hannah Montana knows that.
She's been messing up lately. Bad.
If you pay attention to her during football games, down where the cheerleaders cheer, you'd notice how off she really is.
If you saw her at school during the day, you would see how different the wardrobe she chooses really is.
You'd see that her make-up has grown darker, and that she attempts to hide it by wearing brightly colored T's.
You would be able to see how her face has tear streaks, and also how good she is at covering it all up with her foundation.
She hopes they don't notice.
And so they don't.
They don't notice her sadness, her depression; despair.
They don't notice how badly she messes things up.
Because they know that nobody's perfect.
And the one person she wishes so badly would just look at her. To notice her; doesn't even care.
And that's what kills her inside the most.
He watches her.
Even when he's trying to pay attention to his coach, he watches her.
When he kicks that winning field goal, he watches her.
When he touches those ivory keys, he pictures her in his mind.
He sees her, he looks at her darkened eyes, sees her neon T-shirts.
He can tell that she cries; they've know each other for far too long.
He notices.
He cares. Sometimes too much.
And he knows, knows that nobody is perfect.
He wishes.
Wishes that there was something he could do.
But he knows.
Knows what would happen if they allowed themselves to love each other.
It's happened before.
It's why they don't talk anymore.
Why they can only spare themselves a sneaked glance, or think of how their life should have gone.
Because the two of them together could only form one thing.
. A Beautiful Disaster.