chocolate covered regret
-
-
-
thanks so much to DramaticStarlet for coming up with the title (:
(&for Beta-ing this and helping me so much with it!)
Anyway, I don't own Miley, Lilly, Oliver, or the show.
Sorry for any disappointment.
Miley,
Hey, it's me. It's March 19, 2017. I'm getting married in three days, although I'm sure that you've already seen my picture in the newspaper. I hope you come, Miley, I really do. Did you get the invitation? Because you didn't RSVP.
God damn it, what am I even trying to say? I think what I'm trying to say is sorry.
Sorry for deserting you, sorry for doubting you.
He's a great guy, Miley, he really is. I think you'd like him; he's tall. And he has brown hair and blue eyes that remind me of you. I'm not sure how to put it, Miley, but I am in love. I am. But for some reason, every time we make love, I think of you. And I don't know why.
I heard our song on the radio the other day; I couldn't help but sing along to it. Do you remember it? God, I hope you do. But I was in the middle of the song, right at the line that said, "'Cause I'd withstand all of hell to hold your hand," and I cried.
I cried, Miley. I can't remember the last time I cried. ...I can, actually. You were singing I Miss You at the last stop of the Hannah Montana farewell tour; I had shown up, just like I promised, although we weren't together. Because I wasn't one to back out of a promise, and I'm still not. It was after we had broken up, and I hadn't dealt with it. Hell, Miley, I still have to deal with it.
And now I'm watching you, your fingers moving numbly over that computer keyboard in the back corner of the library. Your eyes are dead; why?
Me? Am I the reason, Miley? Because you're the reason mine are dead. I'm not going to lie.
I'm sorry, Miley, for dumping this all onto you.
I wish you were still mine. I wish I could call you up in the middle of the night crying, saying that I wasn't sure I wanted to go through with the marriage. I wish you were the one that would pick up the phone and convince me I did.
But you're not.
Oliver is now. He's my Miley now.
God, Miley, do you know how pathetic that is? It used to be us three, but now it's just two. He likes my fiancé. And I think you would too.
Anyway, it's 4:09, and I have to go and make sure the caterers know that I don't want chocolate covered pretzels at my reception.
Do you know why I don't want chocolate covered pretzels at my reception?
Because they're your favorite. Of course they were your favorite, I'm not sure anymore.
How long has it been? Ten, eleven years?
I still remember that night, you know. We were under my covers on my backporch after a Hannah concert. You and I were sweaty; we had just made love for the first time when you rolled over on your side and propped your head up and said five words that got me almost high...
"I love you, Lilly Truscott, I really do," you had said. I smiled so wide, I thought my face would stretch permanently. And then you said six words that shattered my heart...
"I don't think this can work; I'm not supposed to be - I don't think I'm...well, you know," and then you left.
Just like that, Miley; you got up and left. You did what you did best; you ran away from your problems. And now, seeing you after ten, eleven years, it brings it all back.
But I am going to push you out of my mind. I am going to go to my wedding and marry my fiancé; I am going to mean it when I say "I do"; I am going to go to my reception and not eat chocolate covered pretzels; I am going to dance with friends I haven't seen since high school; and I am going to push you to the very back of my mind. And I am going to let you go.
But if you ever need anything, you know the number.
And don't say that you don't. Because you and I both know you'd be lying.
- Lilly
-
-
-
Alright, there it is (:
And if you feel inclined to do so, please, feel free to leave your thoughts.
:)