HANNAH MONTANA: Always

DISCLAIMER: This show, its characters and other fictional names rightfully belong to the Disney Channel and Michael Poryes. The author swears no ownership of all these, except for her ideas.

Lilly's Point of View

I had to shield my eyes from the buzzing lights overhead. All were so bright; I almost hypothesized that I may be losing my sight.

"Where am I?"

I looked at my arm. What were all these wires doing connected to it? And what was I wearing?

"This isn't my room…"

On a table at the foot of my bed was a vase full of fresh daisies and roses. Beside that vase was a bowl of apples, bananas and mangoes—my favorites.

"Am I at the hospital?"

To my side was a machine, the type that tells whether a person was still alive or not. I forget what it was called, but it was very familiar to me.

"Hello?"

The moment felt so surreal, I began to ask myself if this was all a dream. If it were, would I wake up? What if I didn't?

"Anyone?"

Finally, I noticed him. There he was, sound asleep by my knees, looking so tired and forlorn.

"Oliver," I heard myself say. My voice was barely audible, but I managed to squeak, "Oliver!"

He lifted his face, appearing to be unaware of his surroundings at first. Then, he faced me and smiled. "Oh. Hi."

"Hi," I told him. "What am I doing here?"

Oliver paused, hesitating if he should tell me or not. "Well," he finally let out. "You, um, you tried to kill yourself." He then looked like he wanted to take his words back and swallow them. "Um. At least, your parents thought so."

It was in that moment that all of last night's events came back to me. Slashing my wrists with a really sharp blade. Chugging down several candy-colored pills. Wondering if all the tears I was producing would eventually turn into some kind of acid and melt my face.

"Why did you do it?" Oliver asked slowly, close to tears himself.

"I'm depressed," I said simply.

Oliver nodded, the realization dawning in on him. "Because of the breakup," he stated robotically.

"Brett was the best thing that's ever happened to me," I confirmed. "I never understood why it ended so soon between us."

"Look, no offense, Lils, but for a self-proclaimed skater, that's pretty shallow," Oliver said. "I mean, suicide? We're graduating soon, Lilly. Soon you'll be in college pursuing your choice course and I'll be taking a year off to save up. It's what we've always planned."

It was true. Ever since we were little, Oliver and I were talking of future plans after high school. I was gonna go and polish my skills and become a veterinarian—I was an animal lover, after all—while he was planning to work at a local music school and teach kids how to play guitar and the drums for a year before heading off to finish his studies at some art school. It was our destiny, our goal, our dream.

Yet somehow I was this close to ruining it by taking my own life. My best friend of thirteen years was right; it was pretty stupid, come to think of it.

And I did it over some stupid jock that dated me for a month. It was shallow, all right.

But not shallow enough to take for granted.

I don't know how it happened, but the tears were pouring out like waterfalls when I finally snapped to attention. "It-it's just, I-I th-thought we were…"

"What?" Oliver asked, pulling his chair to sit beside me. "You were what?"

"That we were…that we were perfect," I told him. "Oh, God, Ollie, how could I have been so stupid? I knew better than that." I looked down at the wires as I held my hand up. "Now look at me. I look like a cancer patient."

"This would be pretty mean to say," Oliver started. "But I think what you're dealing with now is even worse than cancer."

"You know what?" I asked him. "I think you're right."

I turned to face the window, and suddenly I'm in the middle of this event with Oliver that happened when we were eight.

FLASHBACK

Written in the Third Person

"Lilly!" Oliver yelled, aggravated. "Look, do you want me to teach you how to ride a bike, or not?"

Lilly got up, patting away dust and looking down at fresh bruises. "What?!" She put her hands on her hips. "Of course, I do! It's why I even went to meet you here in the first place!"

"Then quit being such a chicken!" Oliver told her, taking her hand and helping her get on the bike. "Okay," he said. "On the count of three, I'm going to let you go. But always remember, I'm right here. I won't let you get hurt. Remember, I'm right behind you, waiting to catch you if you fall."

"Ollie," Lilly replied softly. Her voice got louder with every word. "You already let me get hurt, like, I don't know, three times?" She began counting bruises on her arms and legs.

"Please," Oliver remarked. "They're just marks, you dummy!" He turned serious and focused on the lesson. "Okay, on three." He started pushing her forward, slowly at first, getting faster by the second. "One, two, three!"

Lilly shut her eyes tight, barely hearing herself scream in fright. What was happening? Was she dead? Did that explain why she felt like she was floating on a cloud? Slowly, she opened her eyes.

All she saw were Oliver's eyes, peeking at her own. He caught her in his arms, just like he had promised. He didn't lie—he really would catch her if she ever fell. "I'm always here," he repeated in a whisper. "Always."

This assured Lilly that Oliver would be there forever. And with that, she mustered every inch of confidence in her and tried one last time.

"One, two, three!"

Lilly grinned. "So this is what riding a bicycle feels like! I did it, Ollie, I did it!" She glanced back at Oliver, pedaling as hard as she could.

His grin reached up to his ears.

END FLASHBACK

Those precise words never left my brain—and my heart. I'm always here. Always. Oliver was the one person I could count on for anything. Well, maybe not for the latest notes in Algebra, but for simple gestures and actions a really, really good friend would do, those that I call "true friend deeds."

But it never really came to me why.

"Hey," he said. "I just got a text message from Miley. She was wondering if you're okay."

I smiled. Miley was my best girl friend. She was awesome, but due to her other life as Hannah Montana, she couldn't cater to my every need. Not like Oliver has. "Tell her I'm okay, and that I miss her so, so much."

Oliver nodded. "Sure thing."

"Don't forget to add a smiley," I reminded him.

He looked up, shooting me a look only he and I knew the meaning to. "How could I forget?"

And then there was silence.

"Listen," Oliver stated. "There's this thing I've been meaning to tell you."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Just a warning," Oliver went on, "but you'll be weirded out."

"Dude," I told him. "I've gone through suicide. Nothing can surprise me." I eyed an apple in the bowl. "Hey, before you tell me that thing you've been meaning to tell me, can you go grab an apple for me? Thanks."

Oliver grudgingly took the apple, but I knew it was all an act. "Sure." He paused.

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, go on."

"Okay." Oliver took a deep breath. "Here goes. Lilly Truscott, I…I like you."

I stared at him, partially biting into the apple. Eventually, I dropped it and it fell onto my lap before rolling down the bed and onto the floor. "What. Did. You. Say?"

"I like you." Oliver, after finally getting this thing out of his chest, was more relaxed as he mentioned it the second time.

"Like, as in, you think we're better off as a little more than friends?" I asked. Boy, the slits I'd cut with the blade now made their presence felt as goose bumps appeared on my arms. And it hurt.

Oliver nodded. "Yeah." He sighed. "Look, let's just forget this. I don't want to ruin our friendship because of that. And, well, although it would really hurt if you tell me that you'd rather kiss a cow than to go on a date-date with me, it's okay, really." He looked down. "Uh, kind of."

I chuckled. "Oh, Oliver." It was during that particular moment that I realized that I liked my best friend back. Unable to help it, I started laughing hysterically.

"What?" Oliver asked. "This isn't a joke, Lillian."

I made a hand gesture to get him to come near me. "Come 'ere."

"Yeah?" Oliver did as told.

I smiled at him for a few seconds. Then, without warning, I kissed him.

We pulled back. Oliver's grin was so broad, I was beginning to feel the pain. Smiling hurts, doesn't it? It takes a lot of muscles to do it.

"I'm always here for you," Oliver breathed. "Always." He held my hand and squeezed it gently. "Promise me you won't attempt this stupid stuff again."

I kissed him again. "I have you, don't I? Although me holding a blade against my arm now seems really impossible, if ever I somehow find myself doing it again, I have a hunch that you'll jump right in and stop me."

"I love you," was all Oliver said.

I smiled at him. Who needed suicide when someone as great as Oliver just went on ahead and revealed his feelings for you? "I love you, too."

And I did love him…

…always.