Title: Unaffected (2/2)
Rating: G
Summary: Of what could been, and what could be. But what never is.
Type of fic: Vignettes
Disclaimer: Miranda, Gordo, and all Lizzie McGuire related stuff belongs to Disney and…whoever else has rights to them.
Author's notes: Just a little ditty. You gotta love the possibilities of "fanfiction". Also, I read somewhere that Miranda actually came into the picture much earlier than third grade, but for some reason I'm thinking third grade.

-

Gordo

We had always assumed that nothing would ever change. That we would always be friends. Even when four became three, our certainty never faltered. It had been slightly dented, certainly, but we held forcefully onto it. We would be friends forever. We would grow old together, and no matter what happened, we would always - always - stay friends.

Childhood beliefs crumble so easily.

A few years after our fervent vows, three became two. But I can't really blame Miranda. After all, she wasn't the one who was excluding us. She wasn't the one who made up excuses, continually lied, for three to become two, if only for a couple of hours. We tried to include her. To even help her find her soul mate, because we wanted her to be as happy as we were. It never seemed to work out.

Slowly, Miranda drifted from us. And I didn't even notice.

I called her one day, hoping she would join me to watch the latest movie I found in a store. Miranda was the only one I knew who shared my interest in foreign films, and who insisted on watching them with the original audio and the subtitles turned on. Her mother had answered the phone, had apologised and said that Miranda wasn't home. That Miranda had gone to Mexico for the summer. Mrs Sanchez had sounded surprised that I did not know this seemingly obvious piece of information. That realisation had greatly saddened me, and I vowed that I would double my efforts during our sophomore year.

The summer holidays seemed to have stretched much longer than usual that year, and by the time the second year of high school started my vow had become a long-forgotten memory. Before I knew it, Miranda had all but left my mind. She was just another face - familiar, yet mysterious - in the crowd, though one that never failed to bring a smile to my own. She reminded me of another time, of innocence and simplicity.

And then came the day after graduation. Miranda came to my house. The last time had been sometime during the middle of our freshman year. She said she came by just to say "goodbye". She was leaving Hillridge. She never did tell me where. In my shock, I never even thought to ask.

That night, for the first time ever, Lizzie and I talked of nothing but Miranda. She had applied, and been accepted, into New York's most prestigious design college. She hadn't just left Hillridge for school, but for good. Miranda was making New York her new home.

But I had my own future to consider, and with much effort, I managed to push Miranda aside. And there was Lizzie. She wanted to travel Europe, return to Rome. I was offered a rare scholarship at the American Film Institute. Though life seemed to be tugging us apart, we vowed that we would do all we could to stay together. We loved each other. One day, we would marry, would have children, successful careers.

Such idealistic pledges are always made without the benefit of time.

It seemed almost inevitable, really. Europe charmed Lizzie. She met new people, had exciting, once-in-a-lifetime encounters. She spoke non-stop of her countless experiences, but she didn't seem to understand my lack of enthusiasm. She was living life, and she was enjoying it – without me. Lizzie was fine without me.

And I was fine without her.

Not meaning to, Lizzie and I had reverted to "just friends". Soon, our daily calls became a few times a week, twice a week. Once a week. Once a month. And though I missed her greatly, it was not with the fervour of one in love. I missed her with the affectionate fondness of close friends, nothing more.

As Lizzie faded from my thoughts, another took her place. One whom I'd ignored for far too long. But now it was impossible to push her away. The mere memory of her kept me company through countless nights and days.

Miranda.

I could not get her out of my mind.

I never realised how much it hurt that I lost Miranda's friendship. During high school I always consoled myself that she was still around, that if I wanted to, I could always pick up the phone and talk to her. Or just look for her at lunch time, and she would be there. I had taken her for granted, and with that disheartening realisation I grew introspective. I thought more of what had been, what I had not recognised. What I had failed to see before it was too late.

Though I was with the one I loved, something was always missing. A little part that not even Lizzie could seem to fill. When Miranda left Hillridge, the missing part grew to an almost palpable ache. But, as had been my recurrent error, I ignored it.

As the months passed, I continually vowed to myself that I would visit her. The woman who may have said "goodbye", but who still has to leave me. Yet, something always seemed to stop me. An exam to study for. A paper to write. An unmissable meeting with a professor. No money. A family visit. All empty, pathetic promises.

Until one day I found that I had no more excuses. And so I bought a plane ticket to New York. The very morning of my flight I received a letter from Miranda. An explanation of why, with the letter, she had also sent me a wedding invitation.

You are cordially invited to attend the wedding ceremony of Ethan Daniel Craft and Miranda Isabelle Sanchez.

And that was when I finally understood how much I had truly lost. Miranda's passion. Miranda's beauty. Miranda's laughter. Miranda's smile. Miranda's friendship.

Miranda.

I learnt that it was true, what they say. That you never realise what you have until it's lost.

One lesson I wish to have never discovered.

end part 2.

end.