A/N: So I have been MIA for the past few weeks and should have been working on other stories, but nevermind. I just got inspiration to write this short completed story first. Inspiration comes from Fingersmith by Sarah Waters which I do not own as well as from the song Breathe Me by Sia. Oh and of course Hannah Montana!! I own none of these things, they just lead me on to write crazy fanfictions.

Rated M for a reason, sorry if you don't like.

Breathe Me

Help, I have done it again

I have been here many times before

Hurt myself again today

And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame

I am being slowly consumed. I am being slowly consumed by the boy whose body lies on top of mine. His weight is pushing me down into his mattress below me whilst all the air is filled with his masculine scent. His mouth is against my own, moving cautiously against my lips and my mouth is writhing beneath his touch in response. His body presses down harder and I feel something unusual at the place where our hips meet. My eyes jerk open and my cheeks are flushing from discomfort. I am feeling hot now, claustrophobic and I gasp for breath as he tears his lips away from mine. When I open my eyes again, I am faced with a pair of concerned irises flickering across my face. I cannot help but smile at the look of worry that has settled on his kindly features; he looks so young.

"Are you okay Lilly?" He mumbles and cannot take his fretful gaze away from me.

I smile in return and shift uncomfortably beneath him, "I'm fine Oliver. I'm just feeling a bit hot…and nervous." I am smiling sheepishly while trying to avoid eye-contact.

Oliver nods, "Yeah, me too. I've never done this before." He clears his throat and pulls himself off my body. He sits on the edge of his bed and runs his hands through his shaggy, brown hair to primitively comb it back into place. Oliver turns and smiles, patting the space beside him on the bed, "Come and sit with me, we need to talk."

I nod and join my boyfriend and he reaches over to take my hand where he twists our fingers awkwardly together. We sit for a few moments in silence and I find myself longing for the days when quiet between us was comfortable, instead of our growing insecurities as our relationship becomes more serious.

"Lilly?" Oliver is the first to break the silence between us, and I am grateful because I cannot find any words. I blink and turn to him, smiling shyly whilst he seems flustered, although I know that he is about to ask me something. "I really, really like you. I've had so much fun the past few months since we've been dating and…if you are; I think I'm ready to take our relationship to the next level…?" He trails off here as he looks to me with a host of emotions that flicker in his eyes.

I can read Oliver because I have known him for almost of my life. I knew when he was crushing on me two years ago when we were fifteen, but I chose not to look in that direction because we were too young and we were best friends. I know what he means by the next level though, and that is what is making my throat so dry and my palms sweat. I cannot look at Oliver for the moment and cast my eyes about his room, as if to search for a reason why we should not, other than the sense of dread that is instilled within my chest and constricted breathing.

Finally I part my lips and turn back to my boyfriend, "The next level?" I repeat his question and it sounds lame, the words are dead within my arid mouth.

Oliver panics and he stands up to pace up and down his room whilst I squeeze my hands together in front of me, in a secret prayer that this is not really happening. "Y-you know what I mean." He states finally, but his gaze is more concerned with the floor than my face. He is scared.

I look on at him with a blank expression whilst my insides twist. We are now seventeen and everyone at school seems to be getting it on except for us and Miley, of course, but then she does not currently have a boyfriend. I think that this was one of the main reasons why he suggested that we should get together in the first place, the pools of available girls were quickly drying up and Miley would never be so desperate. Thus I mimic Oliver in his sudden interest in his floor, unable to meet his eyes in case he should see the lie that lurks within my own; I do not love him. I draw in a breath and then exhale it shakily, "You want to have sex?" I answer and my voice is quiet, weak sounding.

Oliver glances upward and our eyes connect for an instant, "Yes." He whispers.

I feel myself wince and I look away, fear is quickly acknowledging itself within every fibre of my being, because I know that I am not ready to have sex with Oliver Oken. "I-I dunno Oliver." I stutter, "I just don't think I'm ready for that yet." My answer is honest, but he is not deterred.

"Come on Lilly, we've known each other for ages. Who better to lose it to than your best friend? I promise I'll take real good care of you. I've already got the stuff."

"Stuff?" I repeat slowly, and the word tastes bitter in my mouth. Since when did it all have to become so technical?

"Yeah. I want to look after you Lilly. I really, really like you."

I sigh and shake my head and Oliver returns to sit beside me. He slips an arm around my shoulder and draws my body closer to his, just like we used to sit as friends when one of us needed comforting, and instantly I find myself relaxing. His smell is familiar to me and the feel of his embrace is almost a form of completion. I turn my lips toward him and kiss his cheek, enjoying the texture of his skin during this platonic act of affection. Why did things have to become so complicated between us? I know that his mind is whirring and I can almost feel his trepidation and longing to put my need first oozing from his being into my own, and that understanding brings a smile to my face.

"I know you do, and I know that you'll take really good care of me." I gradually reply, "I'm just scared, that's all. But you're right, it would be so much better if both of our first times were with someone that we can trust."

Oliver tenderly strokes my arm and his eyes are warm when they meet mine, "I'm scared too Lilly." He confesses gently, "But there's no one I'd rather be with." I nod before burrowing myself into his shoulder again and he kisses the top of my head.

A few minutes trickle by whilst we sit in our amicable silence and I feel myself conflicting with excitement and antipathy toward the prospect that Oliver has dared to lay before us, on the path we have not yet trodden. Since being with him I have always thought that kissing should be enough for us, because we do that so well, but everything has to change, develop, grow and now there is this twisting thing between us, which will either make or break what we already have.

"When do you want to do it?" I ask, and my boldness shocks me even more than him.

Oliver swallows while he draws his body away from mine, so that he may take my hand again and look into my eyes, "Well, I thought we could do it tonight?"

I blink before his response has a chance to soak in, and then the realisation hits me, "Tonight?" I squeak, "But, that's really soon!"

"I know, it's just that my mum's got this police conference thing tonight and I can't think of another time when she'll be out the house. There's plenty of food in the fridge, I'll cook you dinner and we'll make it special…" Oliver's voice quietened and I know that he is watching me closely.

"Okay." I reply simply, although I do not know how I managed to move my lips when my body is so numb.

"Really?" Oliver is tentative in his questioning, "I don't want you to feel pressured about all this."

I shake my head adamantly, although doubt is writhing through my veins, "I want to." I stand up and he copies my actions, holding me nearer once more before I pull away from him. "I'll see you this evening then." I mutter and meet his steady eyes.

"Yeah. See you later." Oliver replies and leans in to kiss me.

"Bye." I say after we break apart and I leave quickly, shutting his bedroom door behind me.

x-x-x-x-x

I am running from Oliver's house and my feet are hitting the pavement so hard that I fear I have caused a trail of cracks to form behind me, carelessly giving away the path I have trod. I glance back over my shoulder and the road is smooth, unaltered by my passing, so I look forward once more and keep running. My chest is on fire and I am sucking shaky breaths into my deprived lungs as I grow nearer to the goal of my retreat. I do not know what brings me here, except the feeling of safety that an afternoon spent in the company of my best female friend always provides.

Eventually I stop and look up at Miley Stuart's house and a small smile stretches across my features. She will be in; she always is these days, probably working on her homework for Mr Corelli on Monday. It is hot outside and I long to get inside to the coolness of her house. There is no need to knock as I approach the door, it is always open for me, and so I wander in.

"Miley?" I call her name from the bottom of the stairs, but I hear no reply. I am not discouraged by this, however, and boldly climb the stairs. I push open the door to her bedroom and spot her at once, seated in a chair next to her French-windows, head bent over a book in her lap whilst the ocean breeze stirs the locks of her curly brown hair.

"Hello Lilly." She greets me in a lazy voice and I know that I have disturbed her studying, yet she already seems bored of it. So I take this as my signal to enter properly, close the door carefully behind me, dart forward and flop onto her bed. I spread my body lethargically across the covers and press my face downward into her pillows, breathing in her scent until it has filled my lungs and I sigh gratefully. There is something about Miley's smell which is just so comfortable and sweet, and it will always calm my most shredded nerves.

My stresses are still at their height in terms of Oliver though, and I cannot help but allow my patience to grow thin and release a groan of mild despair. I can feel Miley's eyes upon me, although I cannot see her, and my body grows still at once. She stands from her chair and stretches; I hear one of her shoulders click, before she makes her way over to where I am lying. The mattress dips as Miley perches beside me, "Are you okay?" She asks in a quiet voice and I know that she is already aware that something is quite wrong.

I smile into her pillows as I shake my head, "Not really." I reply and my eyes fly up to meet hers. Her expression is guarded, as always, and brunette locks fall around her face as she leans close to look at me. She cannot disguise her concern for me, she never has been able to, but these days I can hardly ever read her.

Miley is forever comforting, however, and she strokes my hair with gentle fingers, soothing me, and I know that if I were a cat I would be purring with delight. "Will you tell me what's wrong?" She breaks our silence in her question. Her voice is so soft that I know already I will not be able to staunch the flow of trauma which is already unravelling from me. She always needs to help me, to be the bridge of sanity during the troubled moments of my adolescent life and I would never begrudge her any of this. It was the cement which held our friendship so endlessly together.

"It's Oliver." I concede and twist my body around properly so that I can see her more clearly. We are now sitting next to one another upon her bed, arms lightly brushing and listening to the surf outside. She bites her lip and I am certain that one of her eyes twitches when she hears his name. I know that it is hard for her, since he is a mutual friend, but she will always take my side, even if it was me who hurt him.

I feel myself cringe inwardly and I feel suddenly foolish for invading her day to divulge this silly information to her. Yet something inside of me is driving me onward, I have an incessant need to tell her everything, for Miley Stuart to share in all aspects of my life, even when it is virtually impossible for her to do so. "He wants to have sex with me Miley." There it is, I have thrown it out there between us, as simply as that.

"Oh." Miley says and she grows worryingly quiet. Her shift in behaviour only causes my nerves to flutter further and my eyes are flickering over her features, trying to drink in the way that she must be feeling, whilst a disturbing wave has risen within me that I cannot interpret. Eventually she smiles, ""Wow, things are really getting serious between you and the doughnut then, huh?"

Her acceptance of my statement makes me feel instantly more relaxed with her once more and I admit my swing in feelings to her, "You always seem to make things better Miley." I nestle my head into her shoulder and close my eyes as I breathe in the fragrance of her freshly washed hair. I can feel her mouth stretching into a smile as she presses a kiss into the top of my head. My heart is glowing with tender affection for my best friend and I can only enjoy the silence with her in the greatest content.

Miley's hand strokes my arm compassionately and the movement soothes me further. A warmth which I have not ever felt before spreads throughout my being, starting in the tightening of my chest and reaching throughout me to heighten the rosy colouring in my cheeks, to bring goose-pimples to my arms and shivers down my back. "Miley?" I call out to her again softly and she hums, I know she is listening. I swallow nervously, "I'm just scared. I've never, you know, done it, before."

I chew my lip after I make my confession and I break my head away from its comfortable position on her shoulder to look into her eyes. She shakes her head slowly, "Well, neither have I." Miley answers me honestly and my chest heaves a sigh of relief, which only leads me to feel further confused, yet I breeze casually over this emotion.

"I was happy enough just kissing him, but maybe I'm not very good at that so he wants to try something more?"

Miley laughs suddenly and the sound catches me off-guard. She has such a musical laugh and it floods the room around us in a melodic brilliance, "Lilly, don't be so stupid, of course you're a good kisser." She replies and punches me lightly on the arm. I glance away from her cerulean eyes, which had quickly taken to staring deeply into my own. Miley could be so intense sometimes and the effect often wore off on me, in the quickening of my breath and the mild shocks in my chest.

I cannot help but smile and roll my eyes as I contemplate her announcement, "How would you know? You've never kissed me before." I stick out my tongue at her and she giggles. My stomach twinges, It sounds like I'm flirting with her, I silently reflect, but I am grateful when she only shrugs. Further quiet descends upon us and doubt creeps across my mind, What if I'm not a good kisser? Is that why Oliver suddenly wants more from me? I can feel my cheeks grow hotter and I hug my legs into my chest, this is embarrassing. Miley is never far from interpreting the slight changes in my mood however, she is already on my case, poking me and asking what is the matter. My throat feels tight and I begin to shake as I realise what I am about to do, yet I cannot help myself, I have an indefeasible need to know. "Well, would you tell me?" I mumble and then press my red face into my hands, What am I doing?

"Tell you what?" Miley asks slowly and I can hear uncertainty in her voice.

"…Will you?" I answer, secretly praying that Miley will not understand and brush past whatever it is I am trying to achieve. Yet, at the same time, I cannot help but yearn for her comprehension.

"I will." She whispers and my most desperate wish is granted.

I feel her manoeuvre herself awkwardly beside me on the mattress, but I am suddenly coy and tilt my head away, willing the pink stain which has gathered upon my cheeks to die down. Miley is patient with me, she always is, and waits for me to calm myself. This is impossible, however, and my heart only progresses to beat ever faster in my chest. I swallow nervously before looking into her oceanic eyes. The expression within them is turbulent and I am shocked by their brilliance. Miley is trying to hold something down, something which is forever growing and causing her eyes to burn all the brighter. She blinks, but it has not gone away and I lick my lips, whilst barely realising that I had done so.

It happens with apparent abruptness, yet I had expected it all along, and Miley Stuart, my best friend, is kissing me. My whole body is stirring from the simple sensation of her lips upon mine. She tastes of sweet lip-gloss and, as her mouth parts, she invites me to be daring, and so I slip my tongue into her mouth. I feel Miley shudder from my action but she does not dare to draw away. Neither of us seems to want to but eventually we depart and my trembling fingers go to my lips and I can only sigh satisfactorily.

"I was right. You are a good kisser." Miley's voice dares to breach the quiet, in a whisper, and her hand twists its way into my hair at the back of my neck. Our closeness is invigorating and I think that, if my heart does not stop beating so quickly, I might collapse. I am watching her through half-closed eyes and I feel as if I am becoming infected by some delirium that I had not known until now. The lustful burning in Miley's eyes, which I have finally recognised, is contagious, and I cannot look away from her. Her beauty becomes ever the more striking to me, I had always thought of her as pretty, but now my soul is ravenous to claim her as my own. I long to hold her perfect self in my arms, to touch her in ways that I would never have dared, or thought of before this afternoon. Between our lips a spell has been woven and it will not be undone.

"Then what will happen?" I think, well, at least that is what I intended to keep within the sanctuary of my own mind, yet somehow it became spoken.

Miley takes a deep breath, "Well, the kissing will start you off." She replies and she continues to speak, to sooth my frazzled nerves, to stem the building flow of desire which is building up between us, but it is not enough to end this.

"Oliver's kisses have never left me feeling like that." I state with complete honesty and I look deeply into her eyes, which are filled with trepidation. I am silently begging her now, asking her for more, my entire being is craving the touch of Miley Stuart. We are gradually becoming closer once more and soon my lips are upon hers. Miley does not pull away or resist and I am quickly coming to realise that she never would.

I am on my back and Miley's body is covering my own, pushing me down into her mattress with even warmth. I am being engulfed, slowly consumed by my female best friend, but I do not mind. My mouth is seeking hers, we are speaking without words and sounds are escaping from our lips which I have never heard before.

"I will show you." Miley says suddenly and her voice is gravely, hoarse and ultimately seductive to my ears. I cannot quench the fire which burns between us or prevent the frantic motions of my mouth, lips, tongue and teeth from claiming what is rightfully mine.

Our clothes are quickly disappearing, although I had not even been aware that this was happening; I was too desperate in my longing to devour everything about my best friend. Her hands are upon my naked body and excited tremors are rising and falling throughout my being. Her skin is hot against my own and I am burning from the heat in her fingertips and the fierce passion that blazes from her cerulean eyes. I am drowning in the cold fire that is Miley Stuart's lust for me, surviving in an existence which is only the knowledge of her, for she is everything to me.

Suddenly Miley touches me in a place that no one has ever dared to before today. My body stiffens as I feel a great wave build up between my legs, whilst I am barely able to hold it back. She brushes her fingers down, haphazardly, in the same manner as she would strike the chords of her guitar. So she plays me, she plays me like an instrument in her skilled hands. The metaphor is almost too much to bear and I feel pleasure course through me like the music which Miley makes. The tempo increases and her rhythm is faster, harder, almost too much to bear, but my body responds and bends beneath her, trembling as the vibrations of the strings react to the strum of her fingers. Finally Miley hits the chord which is to be my undoing. A great accord resounds throughout my being until I am calling out her name in a broken, "Miley…" which does not do her playing justice. Yet this lowly cry is all that she needs and her head arches backward, brown curls tumble down her back and her throat emits the most guttural cry, which is the purest harmony to my ears.

The world becomes darker as we collapse, spent, in each other's arms. I cannot think for my mind is a whirring blur of subconscious thought. I feel as if I am slipping away from myself, into some swirling depths in which I cannot again resurface from. My eyelids grow heavy as I settle into the warmth of her embrace. Her lips are curling and pouting against my own once more, and I know only to react to her. Everything has changed and my life is frighteningly alive as I breathe in, taking the plunge into the unknown; knowing Miley Stuart.