They say that you never truly get over your first love. Nick Jonas knew that firsthand. It wasn't because he was still infatuated with the girl he met some two-thousand, one-hundred and forty-five days ago. No, it was because Miley Cyrus just couldn't let him go.

Normally, he'd brush off Miley's little ploys to get his attention. The not so subtle ways she'd mention their relationship every chance she got. How she would accidentally drop his name in an interview. There were more blatant methods, too. Like the time she wore a JONAS shirt out and about. Or when she changed the lyrics of '7 Things' to 'your brothers, they're jerks.'

Whatever. He didn't care. When anything was brought up, he'd simply shrug his shoulders and play it cool. "Miley's great," he'd say. "She'll always be special to me."

She was a pain in the ass. That's what she was. Nothing had changed from when they were dating. Miley was certifiably crazy, and Nick rolled with the punches. That's how it was. That's how it was always going to be.

That's how it was supposed to be, at least.

The day before it all went to hell, Nick was sulking. It'd been a little over two months since Delta ended things, and it was finally hitting him that she wasn't coming back. He'd held onto the thought that maybe she would regret it. She'd be lonely in Australia and give him a call. They would talk things over and realize how stupid they were for breaking it off. He'd fly out the next day to be with her.

She didn't call. She didn't text. She didn't care at all.

It was moments like those that reminded him of the age gap between them. Nick felt like a kid, sitting in front of his MacBook and watching recaps of The Voice Australia just to catch a glimpse of her.

He missed her. He missed holding her hand and walking through the streets of the city with her. Discovering New York as they discovered each other.

It wasn't fair that she was shutting him out. After everything, almost an entire year together, it was like she never even existed. He knew absolutely nothing about Delta Goodrem, and it killed him.

So after watching one last clip of her, he logged onto his Twitter account.

nickjonas: NP - You Could Be Happy

"Can you wear purple with khakis? You can, right? It looks good."

Nick huffs low. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Because I have a date tonight, and I want to look sharp."

"I'm sure you'll look sharp no matter what you wear, Joseph."

An older man bumps into his shoulder, almost knocking him off-balance. But Nick catches himself, keeps his head ducked down as the guy utters an apology. "It's kind of like an eggplant color. That matches with khaki," Joe continues to babble in his ear.

"Yep."

"Actually, it's maybe more like a plum."

"Is there a difference?"

"Obviously, Nicholas," his brother chastises. "Eggplant is a lighter hue, more shiny. Plum is darker and kind of richer."

"Nick!"

He snatches his drink off the counter at the sound of his name. His head is still ducked down as he makes a beeline for the door, the coffee burning his palm in one hand while Joe's voice continues to bark from the phone in the other.

"I'm here," he hisses once he's outside. "Chill for a second."

"Well, you weren't answering me. I thought I lost you."

"Oh, that would never happen. I'm much too intrigued over this conversation about shades of purple."

"Dumbass," Joe chuckles. And even though the brothers are on opposite coasts, thousands of miles apart, they share a laugh. "But seriously, purple and khaki?"

"Sounds like an awesome combo."

"I thought so, too. Anyway, enough about me and my colors and dating life. Let's talk about yours."

Nick shrugs. "I'm wearing a grey sweater and jeans. I don't think it's that exciting."

"I meant the dating life part. How's it going?"

"It can't go anywhere if it's nonexistent."

"Nonexistent? Dude, I thought you were talking to Miley."

He recoils. "Okay, first off, my ex-girlfriend's name is Delta—"

"Miley's your ex-girlfriend, too."

"—And Miley's dating that guy...that Liam."

"That Liam?" Joe repeats. "If I recall correctly, the last time you wanted to get with Miley, you didn't let her boyfriend stop you."

"Things were different then."

"I guess. I just figured you were texting or talking or sending each other songs like you used to."

Nick laughs. He can't remember the last time he spoke to her. "Definitely not, bro."

"That's weird, then. You guys must be telepathically musically connected."

Nick knows better than to question half of the random shit that comes out of Joe's mouth, but this is too weird. "What are you talking about?"

"You and Miley both tweeted about the same song. Well, you just wrote the name of the song, and she wrote out the actual lyrics."

No. No. No.

"You're fucking with me, right?"

Joe snickers, and Nick's more than positive that he's got this sly grin on his face. "You can check it yourself. I swear to you that it's on there."

"Did you tell her to do that? Are you trying to piss me off?"

"I don't talk to her. I don't even have her number."

Nick frowns. "That's—that's not about her. I wasn't thinking about her. I was thinking about Delta."

"Hey, I know. I know you're still sad about that."

"And she always does this. She always fucking does this. She takes everything that I do and manipulates it so that it's about her. I'm so tired of this shit."

"Dude, that's just how Miley is. You know how she is."

"I'm done with it. Seriously, I'm ending it this time."

He hangs up with his brother, and not a second later, his fingers are pounding out another familiar line of digits. God help him if he lets Miley get away with this. She's off having the time of her life with that Australian...guy. Can't she let him be?

"Hi, sweetie."

Nick calms again at the sound of his mother's soothing tone. It's the one she's taken on since Delta...

"Is Dad home?"

She sighs into the receiver. "Yeah, honey. Let me get him. How are you doing today?"

"Fine."

"You're eating?"

"Yes."

"And your levels are—"

"Mom, I'm fine. I just need to talk to Dad."

His father's rough breathing takes over the line a moment later. "Nick? Everything okay?"

"I need a favor. I need you to get me Miley's number."

"Miley...Cyrus?"

No, the other Miley who's made his life a living hell since he was thirteen.

"Yeah, Dad. I know you have, like, connections and stuff. I just need her number and don't know who else I can get it from."

"Doesn't she have a boyfr—"

"It's not like that," he cries. "I need to talk to her about something. That's all."

"Well, I'll see what I can do, Nick. I'm sure I can get in touch with someone on how to contact her."

"Okay. Thank you."

"By the way, did you see that she tweeted—"

Nick hangs up.

He's sitting on the couch beside Elvis. In front of him, on the table, is a piece of paper with ten digits scribbles across it. It took his Dad a few days, but he finally pulled through. He got Miley's number.

Nick's fingers drum against his knee. It's been almost a half-hour now, and he still hasn't worked up the courage to actually call her. He got close once, punching in four of the numbers before his stomach lurched. He felt sick, physically sick, at the thought of talking to her.

And while texting is always an option, he doesn't think that his anger and annoyance will read well on a screen.

You can do this, asshole. You're not thirteen years old, asking her on a date for the first time. You're nineteen, telling her to mind her own business and stay out of your life like you've stayed out of hers.

This time, he lets it ring once before hanging up.

Can't do it. Can't do it. Can't do it.

Nick groans and reclines back against the cushions. He wishes he could turn back time with one of those goddamn flux capacitors from that shitty song they had to perform at all of their concerts.

He wants Delta back. He wants her here, in his arms like when they celebrated his first night in New York. When they had to celebrate on the sofa because he hadn't managed to unpack the sheets yet.

He snatches up his phone again, pressing redial, and letting it ring...ring...ring...

"Hello?"

And then, he's sixteen again and back on that forsaken island in Georgia. He's standing on the porch in front of that house she lived in while filming that movie. He's surprising her because he missed her and loved her. And she answers the door with the same hello that just flew through his ear, a little bit of confusion and sleepiness—

"Hey, I know you're there. I can hear you breathing. And I know that you just called this number two minutes ago, so whoever you are, you better say it before I hang up. I'm not going to answer next time, just so you know."

"Miley?"

Her name doesn't come out the way that he wants it to. It's relieved and light and not intimidating at all.

"Who is this?"

"It's Nick...uh...Nick Jonas." He huffs, angry that he sounds anything but composed. "I mean, this is Nick Jonas."

"Yeah, I'm not stupid. I got it the first time. You didn't have to repeat yourself twice."

"I know."

"Okay, then."

Great. She's already irritated. Way to fucking go, Nick. Now you know that this isn't going to end well.

He clears his throat. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh, so that's why we're on the phone. I had no idea that people talk on these things."

"You don't have to be a sarcastic bitch."

"And you don't have to be an arrogant asshole."

"How am I being—"

"Holy shit, Nick. What do you want from me?" She exhales loud, like she's already out of breath. "God, I've been on the phone with you for a minute, and you're pissing me off. This is why we stopped talking in the first place."

"I'm sorry."

"Wow. Now, if that isn't an empty apology..."

"Miley."

Elvis leaps off the couch at the harsh sound of Nick's voice. He tries to reach for the dog, but it's hard to concentrate with Miley chattering in his ear. "Don't yell at me. Don't you dare."

"I'm..." He shakes his head. "I didn't mean to."

"Look, I'm hanging up."

"No, don't. Can I—"

"I really have to go. You caught me at a bad time. I need to run some errands."

Errands? She's blowing him off to go run some errands?

"Are you free next week?"

The question comes out of nowhere, and she seems just as surprised to hear it. "Next week? Aren't you in New York doing that show...thingy?"

If by show thingy, she means Broadway, then yes. He is. He was.

"Uh...not anymore," he confesses, feeling that familiar shadow of shame hover over him. "The show closed early."

"Oh, I didn't know that. Sorry, Nick."

It sounds so genuine, he has to fight himself from falling for it. "I thought you would have." You've obviously been keeping tabs on me, he wants to add.

"No, sorry. Life's been kind of hectic."

"Yeah, well, I'm taking a trip with Joe to the Bahamas. I'm gonna head back to L.A. for a bit, and then we're gonna fly out together. So I guess if you have any spare time—"

"Sure, Nick," she replies, almost too eagerly. "Yeah. Definitely. It's been a while, and it's always good to reconnect with an old friend."

He's powerless as his lips twitch up into a smile. "It is."

She invited him to her house. He's still kind of in awe over the whole situation, even as he's standing in front of her door. But this is good. They need to have this conversation face to face. Maybe it was unintentional, but it's still a brilliant plan.

He pushes the bell. A chorus of dogs barking sounds along with the familiar one of chimes. Nick's more than aware of the animals that Miley shares her house with. How could he miss it with the daily picture updates she posts.

Suddenly, she's there in front of him. Her hair is piled into this giant thing on the top of her head. Her lean body is almost entirely exposed, save for a thin crop top and denim shorts. She almost looks better than he remembers. Nick can only hope that his appearance has improved from the scrawny, awkward kid he was back then. The years can change you in ways that you don't even realize.

"Hey there, stranger," she says, wrapping her arms around his neck. Nick holds her close, feeling her pushing up against him and filling all those hollow spaces.

"Hey," he finally manages to reply once she's let go. "Good to see you."

"You, too. Come on in."

He follows her into the house that is so typically Miley. It's open and airy and filled with random trinkets that only someone with a rare taste of artistry could appreciate. He almost trips over one of the tribal patterned rugs on the wood floor, but that's all Miley, too. She's too graceful to ever trip over the damned things.

Nick notices the smell, too. It reminds him of a petting zoo.

"They're all outside," she says, gesturing to the dog beds that they pass as they walk through the hall. "They're really good, but they're really loud sometimes. Especially around people they don't know."

His heart sinks in the slightest, but it's enough for him to feel. "Yeah, I guess they wouldn't know me."

She shrugs. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Water's good, if you have."

"Obviously, I have water, Nick. What's with you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

Miley steps back from the cupboard, turning to him. "Have you checked yourself lately?"

"Mhm. Right before I left."

"So it's not your levels. You're just losing your mind."

"Pretty much," he laughs as she hands him a glass. "What else is new?"

"That's new to me. The Nick that I knew was always so calm and collected. It's weird seeing you like this. It's weird seeing you period."

"Yeah, I know. It's been a long time."

"Years."

His eyes flicker over to the frames littering the shelving in the kitchen. Most of them are of Miley and Liam—in the pool, on the red carpet, making weird faces.

"He's out for the day," she says, catching him as he chokes on his water. "He's at the studio doing some last-minute stuff before they leave for filming."

"Oh. He's doing another movie?"

Miley nods, slipping onto one of the stools. "In New Orleans. It's going to be great. I read through the script with him, and we both really liked it."

"I saw the Hunger Games. It was...awesome."

Yeah, Nick, way to be casual. I mean, that didn't sound awkward at all.

"It was." He can tell by the way she's crinkling her nose that she's fighting back a laugh. "I'll let him know the film has your approval."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

And now things are weird again. Nick sits down next to her, scratching lazily at the back of his neck. "You must miss him when he goes."

"I'll visit him. I have some recording to do in Miami, so I'll stop by to see him first. The distance is hard, but we'll make it through."

Unlike us, he can tell she wants to add.

Unlike him and Delta, he could say.

Delta.

"Look, Miley, the reason that I came to see you has to do with us."

"Us?"

"Yes. We have to stop playing games with each other. Honestly, we're too old for this bullshit now."

She frowns. "I don't understand. I'm not playing games with you. I never even said anything to you. You were the one who called me."

"You didn't have to say anything. You just posted it on the internet for the whole world to see."

"Nick, what do you—"

"'You Could Be Happy.' You can't tell me that it was a coincidence that we mentioned the same song within hours of each other."

"Wait, this whole thing is because of Twitter? Because I posted lyrics of a song?"

"A song that I tweeted about first."

"So what? I was supposed to mention you or something?"

"No, you were supposed to let it go. You weren't even supposed to see it. You don't follow me."

"Yeah, but..." Her tongue seems to fumble in her mouth, struggling unsuccessfully to backpedal her way out of the conversation. But Nick can see it in her eyes when she stops being afraid and starts fighting. "Your Twitter account is open. Anyone can look at it. And last time I checked, this was a free country."

"This isn't about you stalking me."

"I wasn't stalking you. I just wanted to see what you were up to because, like we've already mentioned a number of times, we haven't exactly kept in touch."

"What I was up to? I was upset because I missed my ex-girlfriend. I missed Delta, and the song reminded me of us. Of how she just cut me off completely."

"Delta?"

"Oh, come on, Miley. Don't play dumb. You know we were together."

"Yeah, and I remember thinking, 'How strange that Nick would date someone from Australia, just like I am.'"

"Right. That was totally my intention, to be just like you."

"She looked like me, too."

"God, when are you going to get over yourself?" he shouts. "You think I'm trying to be you. You think I'm trying to date someone like you. If I wanted anything to do with you, don't you think I would've let you know?"

"I—I guess."

"But, before all of this, did I ever call you?"

"No."

"Did I ever text you?"

"No."

"Did I ever make any attempts to communicate with you?"

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as if trying to fight back the words threatening to escape. "I—I thought you did," she finally confesses. "I thought there were times when you were trying to get through to me."

Nick scoffs. "When, Miley?"

"When you would perform. The songs you would include on your setlist, like Inseparable."

"The fans like it. They even request it sometimes."

"Okay, but what about 'Someone Like You'? It was so obvious that—"

"—That Delta's an Adele fan? We went to see her in concert."

"There were other songs you could've chosen, Nick. And what about yellow?"

He's confused. "The color?"

"The song," she counters, "by Coldplay. Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you, and everything you do. They were all yellow."

His mind goes blank for a good ten seconds, lost in the sound of her voice. She used to sing to him all the time when they were together. It seemed like they were always singing. And happy. They were happy together.

"Nick?"

"Huh, what?"

"What about 'Yellow'? Don't you remember?"

"Miley, I–"

Her wet eyes just stare right at him, desperately searching for some kind of response. "We saw them together. We went with your brothers. You sang 'Yellow' to me on the car ride home."

"I don't—"

"You've forgotten everything we had, haven't you?"

Nick frowns. "It's not that I forgot. It's that I blocked those memories out. But it wasn't my fault, Miley. You never gave me a choice."

"So it's my fault?"

"If you hadn't been so overbearing and in everyone's face about me, things would've been different. You were with Liam, and you still couldn't let me go. I had no option but to push you away."

"I didn't want you to forget me."

"You made it impossible for me to."

She runs her fingers through her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ears. "I just want to know where we went wrong, Nick. When did we decide that this wasn't worth it?"

He closes his eyes and tries to remember what it was that finally broke them. What fight. What words. What time. What place.

He can't.

"It doesn't matter," he says instead. "It just ended."

"We could've tried harder."

"We could've done a lot of things, Miley, but there's nothing that we can do to change it."

She pulls back. "You're still the same, aren't you? You've always given up on us because it was the easier thing to do."

"That's not true. I fought for you, but I fought with you just as much. Everything I did resulted in some kind of battle."

"Like now."

"Yeah, like now."

He listens to her sniffle. Watches as she dabs at her eyes with a paper towel. He doesn't know how many times he's gone through this. Sitting with Miley as she cried while he tried to comfort her.

"I'm sorry I didn't try harder," he finally offers. "I loved you, and I should've tried to make it work. I should've learned from you. I'm still making the same mistakes."

Miley blinks. "With Delta?"

He nods. "I find myself wondering what I could've done differently. What I could've said to make her stay."

"Welcome to my life for the past three years."

Nick smiles only for a moment. It seems out of place.

"I didn't think that was going to be the end of us, you know," she says with a sharp intake of breath. "We broke up when we were fourteen. We broke up when we were fifteen. We broke up when we were sixteen. I didn't think that last time would be the last time."

"Neither of us did."

"But you had Delta and Selena. And there was Sam and maybe Lucie. Even Courtney—"

"And you had Liam. You still have Liam."

"I would've left him for you."

Her response is like a knee-jerk reaction. Like she's been waiting all these years for him to ask her to.

"Miley..."

"I think you should go."

"But I just got—"

"Please, Nick," she gasps out, hiding her face with her hands. "Please just go."

So he does. He gets up and walks away. As the front door closes behind him, he thinks about all of those times she asked him to stay, and he wouldn't. And now that she wants him to go, he realizes there's nowhere else he'd rather be than with her.

"For God's sake, Nick, we're in the fucking Bahamas. Will you stop staring at that damn phone and come out with me?"

Nick's not in the mood to party. He really hasn't been since he got here. He hasn't been since he last saw Miley.

"I should call her."

"Nick."

"I should've said something to her while I was there. She was right in front of me, and I just left."

Joe huffs. "I don't know, bro. Maybe you're just looking for a rebound."

"Delta and I have been over for almost four months now. It's done. She's not coming back. I get it."

"But you hadn't thought about Miley until she tweeted that stupid song."

"I'd been thinking about her the whole time," Nick argues. "All those stupid things she did were just to keep her on my mind, and it worked. I just didn't realize it."

"I still don't think that she'd leave Liam for you."

"Joe!"

He shrugs. "Think it over. Let's go out tonight, and tomorrow you can call her. You've waited three years. One night isn't going to make a difference."

One night does make a difference. Nick wakes up the next morning hungover. Miley wakes up the next morning and announces to the world that she's engaged.

He doesn't get it. She said that she wanted to be with him, and then she goes off and gets fucking engaged.

Nick has to talk to her. He's back in L.A. now, and though she's in Miami, he's not going to let that stop him.

When he calls her this time, there's no hesitation. There's just the painful droning of the phone as it rings and rings...

Hi, you've reached Miley. Leave me a message, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

Beep.

"Miley, it's me. It's...uh...Nick. I mean, it's me. Listen, if you could just call me the second that you get this message. We really need to talk."

She doesn't call.

Nick blames himself. Of course, he shouldn't have expected her to call. She's off planning a wedding.

It's over, he tells himself. It's really over this time.

But then, out of the blue, he gets the text.

From Miley:

Can you come over?

His head's a whirling mess as he drives to her house. What does she want to see him for? Is she still thinking about their last visit? Is she breaking off the engagement? Was it all just a horrible ploy for his attention?

She's in another one of those messy bun, cropped top, and denim shorts ensembles. Miley steps off the porch as Nick parks his car and heads over to her, a quickness in his step and hope in his heart.

"Hey, Nick."

"Yeah. Hi. Hey," he says, out of breath. "I called you. I don't know if you got my message, but—"

"I got it."

He frowns. "You didn't call back."

"I've been busy. I'm sure you've heard that I'm—"

"Engaged. I did. That's why I called." He reaches for her arm, feeling her flinch as he pulls her closer. "What's going on?"

"We need to talk. Can you come inside?"

Nick shakes his head. "Why can't we talk here?"

"The house is right there—"

"Miley."

"Fine," she murmurs, turning her eyes away from her home and back to him. "Nick, Liam and I...we're going to get married this month. It's going to be just a quiet, little ceremony. And I..."

"And you...?" he encourages.

"And I want you there."

"Me? Why would you want me there?"

"Because you're important to me, Nick."

He scoffs. "No, I'm not."

She frowns. "How can you think that? You were my whole life for, like, two years. You were my first love, my first everything."

"Were. Past tense," he retorts. "Now, I'm nothing but the reason why you're with him."

"Don't do this," Miley starts. "Don't ruin this for me."

"But you've ruined everything for me. You drag me back into your life, only to stomp all over me. God, Miles, our anniversary is in June. You can't just...you can't just—"

"It's not about you anymore. It's not about us." Her fingers run under her eyes, refusing to let any tears fall. "I thought you'd be happy for me. I mean, this is what you wanted."

"You think I wanted you to get engaged?"

"You wanted me to move on like you have."

"Do you honestly think I've moved on from you, Miley? Because I haven't. I wouldn't be here on your front lawn if I wasn't still in love with you."

She stutters out an exhale. "I asked you if you wanted to be with me."

"And I know that I didn't answer—"

"But you did, Nick," she replies. "You didn't say anything. If you wanted to be with me, you would've told me."

"I'm telling you now."

"It's too late now." Miley pulls her arm free. "I'm engaged to Liam. You can't expect me to break things off with him for you."

"You would have before."

"It doesn't matter. That was then. This is now. This is what we've become."

"You don't have to do this," he says. "Don't make the same mistake that I did. Don't give up because it's the easier thing to do."

She tries to muster up a smile, but it comes out as a half-crooked frown. "Can you please just come inside? Liam's here, and if you could...if you could just talk to him, you'd realize how amazing he is."

Great. Liam's here. While he's outside having his entire heart shredded.

"I can't. I just can't do this right now."

"Right now or ever?"

Nick turns away, finding it a little easier to speak when he doesn't have to look at her. "It's not supposed to be him."

"It's supposed to be you," she says, "but it's not."

Miley reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small rectangular card. His eyes hover over the three bolded words as she hands it to him: Save the Date.

"I hope you'll come. I want us to be friends. I want us to fix this."

"How can we fix this if we're not together?"

He doesn't miss the tear that slides down her face as she reaches for his shoulder, leans in, kisses his cheek. "Just think about it, okay?"

He knows that she's already figured out his answer.

Nevertheless, Nick still waits until he's in his car before tearing the card to pieces.

When most people get into a depressive funk, they talk to their friends/listen to music/eat junk food. I write fanfiction haha.