(everyone gasps)

Yep, I'm here with a new story! Surprised? Well, here's the catch--I won't be able to update frequently at alllll, but I've been debating releasing the prologue of this for some time, and a certain new HM episode pumped me enough to do so. Seriously, go to youtube and watch You Gotta Lose This Job if you're a hxc Moliver fan like myself. You will die of the Mollie love.

But yeah, the first half of this story is fluffy friendship/romance stuff, but the second half is more romance/drama/angsty stuff. So, yeah. Just letting you know in case you're confused about the genre 'cause I wasn't sure what the second genre would be best as.

RATING REASONS--strong language, and suggestive themes, possibly some heavy...stuff. ;) haha, we'll see.

ALSO, this is actually an original story I'm writing as an actual novel, so that's why it's AU. If you catch any names that don't make sense it's cause I didn't edit it enough. This also goes for if the characters are way too OOC. I tried to edit the characters thoroughly enough so that they would still seem like our favorite characters, but some parts were too hard because my characters are a biiit different, as in, a way more reserved Miley. So, uh, yeah.

I think that's all. lol. I talk too much, but I think it needed all this explanation now or I'd kill you in the later chapters.

Anyways--here is the beginning of my new story--HEARTWARE!

...After the disclaimer.

I do not own Hannah Montana.

End disclaimer.

HeartWare
by Broken Oken

prologue: unintentional

Suppose the person you believe is made for you, isn't.

A knife stabs you. Straight through the heart. Not once, not twice, but a hundred times at the least. The stabbing doesn't halt when you're numb from the pain either because you'll never become numb from this feeling. Instead you're just going to black out, and when you reawaken you'll be stabbed again. You're going to be surprised to find that you're not dead, however. Yeah, something inside of you, more specifically, your heart, is going to be aching and burning; it'll almost feel as if the knife tore the organ out harshly enough to kill you. But, guess what? It won't. Instead, my dear, you're gonna sit there and be an unpaid actress—smiling the same smile you've been smiling all nineteen years of your pathetic life, as if nothing is wrong. But on the inside, behind the glitter of white teeth, is a heavy frown with an endless amount of tears, with no freaking bucket to catch them in.

Despite this feeling not being the death of you, you know what really sucks about it? There is absolutely no cure for that inward suffering. Honestly there isn't. Okay, so ice cream is about as close as it gets, but sadly, it's only a temporary fix. That's why girls eat so much of it—the longer they're eating, the longer they'll forget for that short amount of time that their hearts have been busted into shards of glass. So, this worthless feeling you got on the brain twenty-four seven, it's regrettably going to kill you eventually. One day you're just going to die knowing that person wasn't made for you—you're going to die with that same aching and burning you felt from the beginning. The beginning—that moment when you realized that for them, it's not you, no matter how many stars or 11:11's you've wished upon.

And because of none of those wishes coming true, you're also going to realize that in truth, there's nothing you can do about it. Fate decides everything, not you. Sorry. Because that person is going to be off with who fate chose for them instead—precisely, the person you're praying you could wake up as every morning who doesn't have to put on a show for everyone. The person who is happy because they got what you wanted. This person is the person that they are made for.

Unfortunately, every single excruciating day, you're gonna wake up as you. Also known as second best. The unselected option. And then you'll cast the ceiling a menacing expression, cursing God for bringing that person into your life in second grade to show you that your perfect idea of a significant other does in fact exist, but they're not yours, and they're never going to be yours.

Oh, well, except he used to be yours. But does that even count—because you truly didn't even know it. You really had absolutely no idea that he used to be memorizing every one of your smiles, right along with the unnamable color of your eyes, and the shape of your lips. You had no clue that every hug you gave to him, he felt as if he was hugging the whole world. It's a shame. A damn fucking shame. Because what he felt once is what you feel now.

To you, you're his. But to him, she's his real his.

How could you be so blind, you're wondering as you go on with your pretend-to-be-happy daily routine. How could you not see all those odd stares he'd give you when he thought you were truly watching the television? Not to mention, those billions of times when he'd hold you just a little bit longer and closer than necessary…

Wow. All the signs were there. He believed he was made for you, too.

Believed.

Yeah, sorry, it's meant to be in the past tense. Because fate's too cruel for you to notice him in that way then, you know, when he would've jumped off a building for a chance to be with you. So fate decided, "Oh, let's have him lay eyes on the real person he was made for!" And suddenly, you were a faded dream to him. Nothing more than the silly brunette girl he'd grown up with, who never had a fucking clue.

It's a sick feeling to know you missed the opportunity, ain't it? Maybe if you hadn't had those invisible censors over your eyes to see the true intentions of his actions, then maybe you could've stopped him from falling into her arms. You know, fight against fate or something like that. Maybe he'd be kissing you by the fountain instead, as you watch them do now. Maybe lots of things could be yours instead of hers.

They used to be. In fact, so many things were used-to-be's. For one, the two of you used to be inseparable. You just couldn't be kept apart. It was like trying to burn water. Sure, you could get it boiling and evaporating or whatever, but even when the water's all disappeared, you could always get more back with just another tweak of the faucet.

Now it's like, when you're separated, only one of you actually cares that you are.

God, you want to forget when she walked into the picture. That perfect picture of which used to consist of only two people—two people that were never given a fair chance. She had to be painted and sketched into that once flawless picture, and you were eventually torn out once your side of the photo became faded enough.

Huh. Maybe you always cared about him the way you do now. Wow. That apprehension's going to kill you twice as painfully. You could've always secretly felt something back for him that was beyond the border the two of you always surfaced on. It could've been so secret that not even you knew about it—you hadn't even told it to yourself.

So, why did you realize the feeling now—when it's so useless? When feeling these feelings didn't change anything except everything.

Well, let's be honest, dear, you got older. Your brain grew some intellect, and you received a better understanding of how things worked in the world. Your education improved beyond the walls of high school. More specifically, big old scary college occurred. That once far away dream in junior high became a reality.

It's college where the chaos began. It's college where boys and girls are continually together, holding hands, grinning their insane happiness, continually showing you what you want and need to be yours someday.

…But it's just college. It shouldn't have brought about all these pristine and alien emotions. But then again, college has been known to teach you a lot of new things, push you in different directions, and unlock all sorts of new doors.

It sure opened one for me. Or maybe a door wasn't opened at all, and I was too in the dark about my feelings to see the flicker of light that had always been there.

God. I didn't mean for things to happen the way they did. I unintentionally made him not made for me. Without knowledge I was slapping him across the face each time I smiled at another boy. But somehow, at the perfectly wrong moment, I tripped, and then I fell; I spiraled into something by complete accident. It's no surprise.

It hurts, you know, because I don't want to feel like this.

I really, truly, one hundred percent did not, on any circumstances, mean to love him.

But do you know what hurts the most?

…knowing that he didn't mean to make me.

Short-ish.. but the chapters are all ungodly long, just trust me on that one.

Reviews telling me to continue or no?