Title: Dear Lilly
Disclaimer: Unless mentioned, all the characters do not belong to me, but Disney, *sigh*.
Pairings: Miley/Lilly
Ratings: PG

A.N.: I know, I shouldn't be writing a new story when I'm kinda smack-dab in the middle of one that I haven't updated in a long time. Don't worry about Near To You though. I am still writing it, it's just taking a while to gather my thoughts. Things have been hectic and lately I have been in kind of a mood so I didn't want to taint NTY with my angst as that's supposed to be a fluffy story. Which is where this new story comes in. Last night, I read Annie on My Mind (after what might be the gajillionth time now), and an idea came to me. I had to write it, and I think it might be a short series… We'll see how it goes.

It's kind of AU, but not really? Miley used to be Hannah Montana, but retired "Hannah" literally before graduating high school, because she wanted to concentrate on college and her future. She still loves music, still writes and composes, but isn't thinking of doing it for the rest of her life. Everybody you know and love will be here, of course, and there are the new characters, who I hope you will love.

I don't even know if this will make much sense or is much good, but here it is.

With all that I am, I wish you love,
Az

Dear Lilly

Dear Lilly,

How are you? I hope you have been keeping yourself well. Any interesting anecdotes about college life so far? I have been doing alright. College has been hectic but, I'm handling it. I've gotten to know some of the girls in my dorm. Some of them are very nice, some of them kind of distant. But we're all in the same boat really. We're all excited and scared. This is our first real time being away, and everything we do from the moment we stepped into our rooms, it's down to us. Our choices. Our lives truly belong to us now.

There are all kinds of girls here, Lils, some who completely embrace their stereotypes, and some trying to break from the one they've had to live with all their lives. I guess that's what college is about, isn't it? That break to be a different you. The real you.

And then you get those who aren't any stereotype at all. Like you can't say that they are just one thing, because they're not. They're a lot of things. Do you think maybe that's the real all of us? That we're all not just one, but so many different things? I'd like to think so. Life could just get pretty boring if we were just one thing all our lives. But I guess that's just me. I mean, if I were to be just one thing, it would be Miley Stewart, but I'd want Miley Stewart to mean more than just a name, you know what I mean?

I pause, trying to unravel the torrent jumble of words circling in my head; trying to piece together sentences that would actually make sense. Sentences my hand would jot down on this piece of paper. But nothing comes. Words like "love", "heart", "wish" and "ache" chase each other like children playing tag on the playground.

I lay my head down on the table, releasing a small, dejected sigh. I don't know what I was thinking when I thought about writing this letter. And now I'm actually writing it, it's like every plausible reason there might be, has completely escaped me.

What am I trying to say? What do I want to say?

My eyes survey the part of my room that is in my view, taking in the space that I've been living in for only a few months now. God, what a mess. I haven't even gotten to properly decorating the room. I haven't made the room scream, "This is Miley Stewart's room!" let alone say it. At least I have unpacked, and I did put up two pictures on the bulletin board on the wall next to my bed.

The first picture is of Dad, Jackson and I, on my 18th birthday earlier this year. Dad had planned to take us out for a picnic but it started to rain heavily and lightning was crackling across the sky so we decided to have our picnic inside instead. We even laid out the plaid blanket out on the living room floor. At least we didn't have to worry about ants. Those were the happier times.

The other picture is a Polaroid, of me and my best friend, Lilly Truscott. It's just one picture of many that I took of us together. This was taken during the summer, when we were on the beach, just hanging out. We're hugging each other tight and I'm kissing her cheek in this picture, our eyes are closed and a content look is both on our faces. My lips tingle remembering how it felt to be pressed against soft skin.

I take in the magnificent blue of Lilly's eyes that'll forever remind me of the limitless sky. Long golden blonde hair that'll make me think of the sun, and the previous summer days gone by, when my fingers would leisurely weave through it. Soft pink lips that'll make me recall those spent summer nights, filled with heat and pounding heart-beats.

I just finished reading Annie on My Mind. It might be the fifth time I've read it but it still makes me ache all the same. It merges with this other ache that already has a name: yours.

Another pause as I try to decide whether I should start over a new letter or just keep going.

No, I have to keep going. This needs to be done.

I miss you, Lilly. I miss you so much. I'm so sorry that we never got to say goodbye before leaving. I'm so, so sorry about the way our summer ended. Could we just erase that last part and always remember how we spent it? In each other's arms, because that's what I remember the most, Lilly. Being in your loving embrace was the only thing that kept me going. Keeps me going.

I wish I had checked to make sure the door was locked. I wish I had heard the footsteps on the floor rushing up the stairs. Maybe if I had heard it, the summer wouldn't have ended the way it did. It could have ended with us in each other's arms, the way we spent that summer.

I feel the sting of tears in my eyes, and I bite my bottom lip, trying to prevent a sob from leaving my lips. My hand hurts so much but I can't stop writing. My heart won't let it.

It's been a few months since that summer day when you were taken away from me, Lilly. It's been a few months since we last talked. And I… I was just so scared, Lilly. And I didn't know what to do. After that, when college started up, I just wanted to forget everything. I threw myself into my school work but then I would find myself writing to you instead of writing about Mary Shelley and her Frankenstein. I always end up throwing those pieces of paper away because I knew they wouldn't find their way to you. I don't know your address. I thought we would have time to find out that information in the end. And I can't ask your parents. They'd sooner give your address to a terrorist than to me. I had to literally beg your brother to give me your address.

And it's also because… I truly didn't know what to say to you. I would write "I miss you" and "I love you" on this page over and over again because that's all I really feel, Lilly. Because I feel if I were to see you now, those words are the only words that would spill from my lips. But I wanted to wait until I was sure I was ready. I just didn't realize that I have been ready for a long time.

Oh god, Lilly. I want to see you so badly.

I'm so sorry I didn't try harder to get to you. I should have told our parents to just shove it. I should have fought harder because you are worth the fight, Lilly. I'm sorry if you didn't feel you weren't worth the fight. If I made you feel that you weren't. Because you are. You are worth every inch of the fight that I should have made. We are not wrong. We are beautiful. We are so beautiful together.

I'm so miserable without you, sweetheart. Please let me know that you are okay.

I love you, Lilly. I miss you.

Love always,

your true

Miley

I put down the pen, skimming over the letter I had written in the past half hour, not really seeing the words. I can't believe it. I actually finished it. I finished writing her a letter.

I draw a little heart at the top corner of the letter, colouring inside it, then I give it a little kiss, leaving an imprint of my lip gloss on the paper. I neatly fold the letter and slide it inside the envelope. My hands shake slightly as I write Lilly's name and address.

I hope this gets to you, Lilly.

Please.