Here we go...

The first week living with Miley was... straining. Yes, she picked up after herself, never asked for anything like I thought she would, I mean, she was a diva pop star before she lost everything, but she wasn't a burden to live with. No, she was very tidy, but my problem was her ignorance. She knew so very little about how to lead a normal life, to wait in line at the grocery store, to just relax and watch TV. She said she was always on the go, always at concerts or out wearing down the dance floor with her "friends". She was always doing something and never found the time to just sit in front of the TV or go for a soothing walk through the park. She hated constant attention in public and just wanted a break sometimes, but one was never given so she rarely went out to partake in some leisure time. I knew that it was exactly what she needed. Hannah may have only been young, twenty, but maybe retiring wouldn't be such a bad idea considering how stressful things had been for her.

"I think I want a job," Miley said suddenly, tearing my attention away from the episode of Family Guy I was forcing her to watch. I wasn't sure if she liked the program or not, but Miley tended not to complain about anything because she was living with me free of charge.

"What for?" I wondered absentmindedly, eyeing the TV for a second.

"Well, for starters, I don't want to live my life wearing your clothes." I echoed her chuckle. "Also, I'd like to pay rent."

"You don't have to do that. I don't." I caught Miley rolling her eyes with a slight smile as she robbed some chips from the bag I had placed between us on the couch.

"True, but I want to. I also need to find something to keep me occupied," she continued.

"And I don't keep you occupied? You seem to enjoy picking up after the messes I make before I get the chance to myself."

"I need a life outside of babysitting you, Lilly."

"Go to hell," I laughed.

"I've already been there," she muttered. My heart experienced a sharp pang and I threw an arm over her shoulders, welcoming her as she curled into my side, the chips crunching as she squashed them. I fished them out from between our bodies and placed the rumpled bag on my lap, making our connected positions more comfy as we watched Family Guy. Well, I watched it; Miley was probably listing possible jobs. I didn't want her money or her to go out and leave me alone, but it was her choice and I'd been living alone for almost three years, so I could adapt to an empty house again. At least, I hoped I could.

Miley's hand lifted and she lazily slipped it into the bag of chips, digging around for the left over crumbs. I almost sprung across the room as my insides flipped over and my breath lodged itself deep in my lungs and exhaling was out of the question as I almost choked on nothing but shock. Miley wasn't paying attention and I was kind of glad because that would bring forth an extremely awkward situation for the both of us. I felt my eye twitch as her fingers poked through the bag and continued to put pressure on a very personal area. It was sending spasms to places that hadn't dealt with such a sensation and my face was burning. I still hadn't released the breath that felt like fire in my chest now. Holy shit. I was so close to flinging up and screaming, "Stop fingering me!" But that certainly wasn't going to happen. Miley's hand was gone, now grasping what she'd been searching for and I scrunched the bag up and used it as an excuse to get the hell away from her.

I was so fricken embarrassed. I mean, what was all that about? Why did I react to her prodding? It should have just been uncomfortable and weird not... arousing. God, I shouldn't think like that! I don't even really know Miley and I was going to be living with her for a long time, I'm sure, and thinking outside of straight territory isn't something I'd had to worry about before. Even if I was gay, which I'm not, there's no way I could be able to bag Hannah Montana. She had the selection of, well, every man and woman in the world probably. She had the looks, the wit, and from what I've seen so far, the personality. And what have I got? Nothing. I'm mooching off my mother and lazing about, my daily routine consisting of watching TV, skating, reading, hanging out with Sarah at her many environment services or helping her do some boring charity work, and the only thing I truly enjoyed was drawing in my sketchbooks. I kept the filled ones piled under my bed, most of them just containing crazy monsters or animals I'd imagined years ago. It was something to do and I was pretty good at it.

I decided it was time to lose myself in those drawings again, so I wouldn't have to confuse myself further with the whole Miley thing. It needed to be buried, never to be dug up again.

I walked into my room and sat on my bed, opening the draw to my nightstand and pulling out my drawing book. I flipped through the black and white images, all of them dark and fantasy related. It's been awhile since I've drawn anything human. I rummaged through the junk stuffed in my draw until I came across my pencil and then I propped some pillows up against the beds headboard and started my drawing.

Two hours later and I was still completely engrossed in my sketch. I'd started off by drawing two figures, one on the ground and another floating, but I wasn't sure what they were going to be, I just let my pencil shape them. The one on the floor turned out to be a young woman on her knees, restrained by chains and trying to raise her arms to reach for the retreating ghost like form. However, the ghost had the same face as the woman attempting to reach for it, though the hair was a different colour. I'd actually used coloured pencils for this, which was a rarity for me. Not to mention they were people. There was something familiar about them, but I didn't analyse what I drew, simply coloured every white space, taking care in tracing the outline of brown waves of hair on the woman restricted to the prison floor over with a darker tone. Her opposite was a blonde and she was surrounded by a glow, the gates behind her visible through her transparent body.

"Wow," Miley breathed and I jumped, dropping my pencil. She bent to pick it up, but her eyes were locked on the book in my lap. "That's amazing... How did you draw that?"

"Um... I wasn't really thinking about who it was or anything, it kind of drew itself," I replied, staring at the picture. I realised, as I took in the features that I had drawn, that it was Miley trying to reach for Hannah as she disappeared from her life.

"Shit, it's like you got inside my head and felt how helpless I was to stop Hannah from slipping away after I screwed up." She sighed and perched by my feet, taking my book and gazing intently at the page.

"Sometimes you need to lose it all to snap back to reality," I said, wondering how much I really stared at Miley to know all the details to her face.

"You got that right. Now that I know what it's like to have nothing, I appreciate everything I get, even though I don't deserve any of it in the slightest. I don't deserve you," she said softly, running a finger lightly over her face in the drawing before she turned to me, and the rawness in her stare, it freely showed me the absolute worship and gratitude she had for me and what I've done for her. Here I thought I was the one who was unworthy and she was looking at me like I was a godsend, like there wasn't anything more she needed. What was I going to do about the hand Miley just thrust into my chest and around my heart?

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