A/N: Don't look at me like that, okay! Fluff is hard! (hurriedly hides Spam stories) Okay, and I got the idea for this, and gave it like one concrete sentence a little over a month ago when I was seriously depressed/down in the dumps/ too sad for words. So - angst. Sorry. But it is Moliver. So c'mon - you know I love them.
Warning: Serious distress/depression and drinking. Oh - and limited editing/personal beta-ing.
Disclaimer: I don't own HM. Um, duh.
You sit there, staring. He's been in love with you for so long. Three whole years you knew him, and he loved you. Now you can admit you were afraid of it, but you also sit marveling at your past self. He would have given anything, done anything, to be your man, and he almost did. But you pushed him away. Instead, you wanted to be friends.
Now though, you're the one sitting at the bar, taking tequila shots. He's on the dance floor, and his beer is sitting next to you, getting warm. She has the same exact hair color as you. Or, well – part of you. Long blonde hair, different highlights all the time, curled like he had messed it up. You sit and watch, cursing the stick straight version you have at home for not twirling with him like hers is.
He smiles at her, holding her close, and she's giggling back at him. The sight makes you nauseous, but you still can't look away from him. His flippy brown hair and smile are too intoxicating.
There is now a gaping, aching hole in your gut, and your mind never fails to remind you: he could've been yours. You just had to act on it. Instead, you told him you could just be friends and there was nothing there. Then, you proceeded to set him up with girl after girl, even if he still loved you. That little voice in your head is reminding you all the girls he seriously liked looked like you, one way or the other.
So you shut it up with another shot, but still look back at the pair. He's singing one of her favorite songs to her off-key, and she still laughs, gazing at him with love in her eyes.
To avoid another shot as the bartender comes by, you distract yourself with his beer bottle, tracing it with your fingers. As your finger lingers over the top your mind conjures up the image of her white gold ring with all of its diamonds, so beautiful you forgot to ask how many carats. Another shot is set down in front of you, and you forget if you asked for it or not. Downing it, you look around for the peanuts, and after two fruitless seconds you give up.
Tears form in your eyes as the aching simply gets worse, and you know it's all over. Even if you told him you have always loved him and you have always felt something, it wouldn't do anything. He's getting married in a week, and you foolishly agreed to stand up with Lilly as an honorary groomsman, and to sing as they light the unity candle.
Your best friend then comes up behind you with a hug, and manages to get you off the barstool. "C'mon Miley, let's go."
"No – no. I'm, I'm fine. Really," you sniffle onto her shoulder.
"You're drunk. C'mon."
"Why doesn't he love me? He used to love me so much and then he just didn't anymore. He could still love me, you know?! Like you and Jackson! I – I just want him to love me again…"
"Shh, Miley, we're almost there." She quieted, leading you to the car. Away from Oliver.
"But I love 'im Lilly! Just – "
You best friend sighs, putting you in the car, "You can tell him yourself." And then you don't have the power to speak anymore, because tears are all you can manage. Because you could have told him, for years and years, and you never did.
A/N: Oh c'mon - you know it's going to happen if Miley doesn't get her Oliver love act together! :P Anywho - please review. Tell me how rusty (or good) I am at angst - and if you really feel the need, poke/prod/shove me to do something with my other Moliver/Lackson. If you think it'd help. PLEASE REVIEW!!