A/N I highly enjoyed getting all of your reviews so please, keep them coming =)
Originally, I wasn't going to continue this but… there was more to say I guess.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hannah Montana, Not even a little bit.
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You're warm
You're comfortable
Nothing can touch you, not here, not now.
Until you hear a door slam.
The noise is close. Too close.
Unpleasant guttural whimpers and moans echo to where you are sprawled out on the decidedly uncomfortable beanbag, a thin blanket draped across your legs.
Your eyes crack open and that same retching noise is heard again, you vaguely recognise the sounds of someone stumbling around and again you hear another spluttered groan.
You know that sound. You've heard it all to many times before, that sound means one hell of a hangover, that sound means she's awake and the only concrete thought running through your still groggy mind is a pray of thanks that she made it to the bathroom this time.
The door swings open harshly just as you throw off the blanket, in it's wake you find a petite brunette with droopy eyelids and dishevelled clothes. She's wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand and with a sloppy groan she staggers forwards.
Her hair is a mess and her make up that you are pretty sure took multiple hours is ruined leaving gauntly pale skin and shredded white lips.
She makes it over to the bed as you slowly stand, You sigh as run your fingers through your hair because to be honest you have nothing left to say to her and you hope that your disappointed eyes tell her enough.
You walk to the bathroom cupboard, being careful not to look at the floor or at the toilet. You come back and She's sitting on the bed. You hand her a tablet and a cup of water from your nightstand. She takes it, gulping it down. She falls back. Letting the painkillers take effect.
After a few minutes she wearily sits back up but still manages to look marginally recovered, She stretches her legs then crosses them, tilting her head slightly as she looks at you . You still don't know what to say and she doesn't look very eager to offer anything either so you both just watch one another, trying to avoid, like you always do, the uncomfortable, painful conversation that you have never been brave enough to have.
She's looking so.. Normal. It's hard to believe the images from last night that run through your head, mixing with flashes from the many other nights where she's been so drunk she doesn't even know her own name.
As you let the memories seep back into your once clear mine…you get angry. You can't help it. You feel it all bubbling around the surface, All the questions that you want to yell and scream at her rush to your head and her quizzical expression and probing eyes only fuel your frustration and resentment at the whole stupid mess that your still not sure how you, or her got into.
The tension gets to you and the impatient voice in your brain becomes increasingly loud so you break the silence
"Miley" You say it with as much force as you can, you're still trying to keep all the rage at bay. It's pretty hard when she's smiling, mocking you almost. She knows what she does. She knows what she's doing
"Lily" the corner of her lips tugs at a teasing smirk. Her lips are taut, they aren't used to smiling and laughing and any kind of representation of happiness, she hasn't done much of it lately. Remembering this doesn't really help the situation.
"Well?.... Do you have anything to say?" You prompt not so lightly. You're not going to let this one go, not this time. You want answers. Now.
"I've got a killer head ache" she tries to joke but your expression doesn't change and so she relents.
"About what?" She tries to look naïve, she's riling you up and you know but you won't let yourself fall into her trap, your have to get this out.
"About last night. About every night when I'm woken up so late it's insane because you're to tanked to even put one foot in front of the other" You surprise yourself. You didn't quite expect to be so bold. Your words , though rushed and dripping with escaping resentment and anger seem to have an effect on her.
You watch, gauging her reaction. Her smirk falters for a second, you've never really dared to talk about it before, just letting it slide and pretending like nothing happened…but now, you're sick of her charade, You want no part of it. Because it hurts you too.
"There's nothing to say, I had a little too much to drink and I just needed a place to crash for the night" She says, trying desperately to convery calmness and reassurance. It's not working.
You just look at her, she avoids your eyes, and She knows your not buying It. She needs something to do so she starts gathering her things. Avoiding you at all costs. You take a few steps towards her, she's got her back turned but she knows you're there; her shoulders tense and all her previous movements come to a grinding holt as she waits; Terrified.
"Miley…Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" You manage a whisper, your voice breaking as you finally ask the one question that plagued your mind from the beginning.
She turns back to you, slowly. You see her start to crumble. The slight remains of anything even resembling control over the siutation gets wiped off her face and she looks away, she can't face you.
She can't face the truth.
"I …I don't have any idea what you're talking about" Her voice is brisk as she brushes you off, continuing to put on her heels and close her bag, once she's done she turns to face you. Her façade is failing her, She's trying to deny it all, not to you but to herself and it's getting harder and harder.
"Listen, Lily, thanks for letting me stay here…I'm just gonna go home but I'll.... see you round" She's looking at you and you can see her battling with her thoughts, it seems that you pushed her just that tiny little bit too far, asking her why. You see now that she doesn't have the answer herself and it scares her.
You nod. She stares at the ground for a second but then looks to the door then back at you, as if comtemplating what leaving will actually mean. She shakes her head slightly, trying to rid herself of the thoughts and questions you planted with your hoarse attempt at figuring this all out.
She takes a step towards the door but hesitates for a split second.
"Wait, Miles" You say as firmly as you can, it comes accross as more of a strangled sob, a feeble attempt to stop her from running away.
You want her to stay and talk this out. You want to help her, you want to save her, not just from alcohol and drugs and partying way too hard, but you want to save her from herself.
But she's already out the door
You sigh again, sitting back down on the bed. You have a perfect view into the en suite and you see the contents of Miley's poisoned stomach all over the floor.
"Fuck"
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A/N Okay, So I'm not entirely happy with this chapter. It felt a bit …Blah... but I suppose I felt it was necessary not to rush anything. Thanks for reading!