Nick walked into the club and went directly to the back, like he'd been doing every night for the past four months. It was their circle, the way they were. Taking the needle from one of his so-called "friends", who looked like the sketchiest man in America, he injected it into his lower arm and let out a relaxed sigh as he sank into the couch, feeling the drug course through his veins. He took a swig from the bottle of gin that was being passed around and smirked when a woman about his age came and draped herself over him in her skimpy outfit. Soon, her friends also ventured over to him and he was swarmed with a multitude of good looking women who did anything he told them to do.

At three in the morning, an exhausted college student walked into the loud club to pick up her best friend. Going to the back, she sighed and took the needle out of his arm. By now, the girls had left and Nick had passed out after yet another exhausting and overbearing night.

She gently shook his awake and he looked at her weakly. Her fingers grazed over his cheek, "hi," she whispered kissing his sticky forehead that was covered in sweat, though she didn't care.

"Mi," he whispered, smiling lightly. The twenty four year old slowly sat up and draped his arm around her neck, "take me home."

She nodded and helped him to the car, a few tears falling from her eyes. Miley couldn't understand why he did what he did, she knew that with his brother's death, that he'd been going through a lot, but she also knew that this was the wrong way of healing. However, she didn't see him as a crazed party boy, she just saw him as the amazing, chivalrous man she'd fallen in love with all those years ago when they were watching Barney and playing in sandboxes.

Taking him to his apartment, she opened the door with the key he'd given her and brought him to his room. Going to the kitchen, she put him a glass of water and went back, setting in on his bed stand. She knew that Advil would help his hang over that'd he'd have tomorrow as well, but she also knew that he'd get high off them or possibly OD and even if he was a complete mess, she knew that she'd go crazy without him.

Changing him out of his clothes and into a new pair of boxers, she washed his face and his arms with a wash cloth. She thought he never knew how he got home because he always passed out again the second he hit the bed.

The blue eyed girl was sick of having to watch him make a fool of himself, but what was she supposed to do? She loved him. But lately, she'd been thinking that maybe it was time to give up. Everyone but him knew that she loved him. She had for ages and if he was too blind to see that she cared about him, then maybe he had changed.

Her mind drifted to the times when Nick would treat her as if she was his favorite girl in the world, no, scratch that, his favorite person in the world, but now, he only slept, ate, and partied. As if he'd forgotten his best friend's existence. Miley's friends always told her she should gibe up on him, but she was aware that that'd never be an answer to her problems. If anything, that'd just make her problems bigger because no matter how much she wanted to give up, she loved him and would always be there for him.

Usually, she'd leave after taking him home and picking up his broken pieces, but this time, she took her clothes off and put on one of his white cotton tee-shirts. Little did she know, Nick had an eye open and had been watching. When she turned around, he quickly closed it and just waited. Climbing into bed, she placed a kiss on her cheek, letting her lips lighter there for a few moments.

"I love you," she whispered before shutting the light off, pulling the covers up, and falling asleep. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

"I love you too," he slurred after he knew she was asleep.

In the morning, Miley woke up and looked to her side. Nick was no where to be see and neither was the glass of water she'd placed on his bedside table. Her smile fell from her ruby lips and she sighed in disappointment, thinking he'd already gone off to party, or just ignore her completely. Getting up, she went out to the living room and saw him cooking something that smelled like burnt eggs. She bit her lip and tried to hold back the massively large smile that was showing up on her face.

Walking into the kitchen, she stood next to him and looked at the burnt food in the frying pan. "Nicky," she giggled turning off the stove, "you have many talents, but unfortunately, cooking is not one of them."

He sighed and put his hands on the marble countertop, "I know," he let out another sigh, "I just wanted to say thank you...for everything you've done for me these past few months since Frankie's death. Actually what you've done for me our entire lives. I don't know where I'd be without you."

She flicked the burnt egg and wrinkled her nose, "you wanted to thank me by trying to kill me," she asked laughing.

"Shut up," he chuckled nudging her, he spun her around and wrapped his arms around her waist. Looking into her baby blue eyes, he smiled lightly, "really though, I don't know what I'd do without you. I know that I've been out of hand these past few months and I am really really sorry. I want to go back to who I was before all this craziness. Do you think that that's an option? Do you think you could help me with that?"

Miley smiled nodded and put a hand on the back of his neck while the other rubbed his back, on top of his gray tee, "just promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"You can't drink anymore and no more promiscuous women, or drugs."

"Deal. As long as you help me."

"I'll always help you, Nicky, come on, you know that," she said smiling lightly.

Nick leaned down, "could I try something?"

She didn't answer him with words, just a passionate yet loving kiss. He smiled and kissed back, pulling her closer. After a few moments of sparks erupting like fireworks between them, Miley pulled away and looked at him.

"Just a preview of what could come when you're back to your usual self. And that means six moth sober and back to the gentlemen that I know you are."

"Deal," he smiled before pulling her into a tight hug, "I love you."

"I love you too," she laughed resting his forehead onto his.

HE looked down at her outfit, his shirt and black underwear. Doe she know she doesn't have pants on, he asked himself. A brief chuckle escaped his lips, "although I love what I see, do you think you should put some pants on?"

She looked down and squeaked before dashing into his bedroom and grabbed a pair of sweatpants out of his drawer.

"Oh boy," he laughed rubbing his neck, "that girl is going to be the death of me."