[Fic: Hannah Montana] Soup, Salads, and Secrets
Title: Soup, Salads, and Secrets
Pairing: Miley/Mikayla friendship, implied Miley/Lilly
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2707
Spoilers: "Acky Jakey Heart, Pts. 1-2" & "That's What Friends Are For?"
Disclaimer: see journal sidebar
A/N: Missing scene from "Cowgirls Don't Cry." Slightly AU future-fic. What if Miley and Jake didn't break up in "Acky Jakey Heart, Pt. 2?" And what if Miley actually took Mikayla up on the offer to be friends in "That's What Friends Are For?" Also, this is a femslash story (very light, but still), so if that's not your thing, then either open your mind or hit the "back" button. This is my first fanfic ever, so please be brutally honest.
Summary: Miley and Mikayla do lunch, and Miley discovers that some secrets aren't really secrets at all...
The realization hits you as Mikayla raves on and on about how cute Nick is, and how sweet he is when he’s being shy, and how she gets chills every time they touch, and the spark of electricity she feels between them when they kiss. You’ve never felt that thing Mikayla is talking about. The spark.
“Shut it, Mik,” you snap as the server brings your soups and salads, purposely calling Mikayla by her most hated nickname. The two of you eat lunch together at 12:30 every Tuesday afternoon at the same café, sometimes even the same table. The staff is awesome about showing paparazzi the door (especially on busy days when you show up as Hannah or when either of you releases an album), and you love having consistent girl time each week. You usually see Mikayla several times a week anyway, but during recording or album launches or other things like that, sometimes weekly lunch is it. But as much as you love Mikayla, you’re sick to death of her going on about how everyone she dates is the love of her life. But one thing still bothers you, and since Mikayla brought it up…
“That whole spark thing,” you begin hesitantly, unsure of how to phrase your question, “is it just with Nick, or every guy you kiss?”
Mikayla gives you an intense stare, her eyes reflecting uncertainty laced with sadness and compassion. “You’ve seriously never felt the spark?” Mikayla questions incredulously, “not even with Jake?”
Mikayla’s brown eyes turn almost black and her face transforms into its trademark sneer when you glare at her coldly for mentioning your ex-husband.
“Well, did you?” You shoot back, more hurt than angry. The drama of those years is long gone, but traces of your younger selves still drop by to visit from time to time. At twenty-three, both of your personalities have changed and matured, but not by much. Mikayla’s still snarky and a little bitchy, but it’s mostly endearing now, laughter dancing in her eyes along with a mischievious smirk that, you think, makes her even more beautiful. She’s also highly protective of her friends, you in particular. You, on the other hand, are still hyper-driven and a bit of a drama queen, but most of the drama died with your teenage years, and you no longer carry out the silly schemes your mind creates from time to time. While Lilly had always gone along, Mikayla firmly refused. You’re also much more confident as Miley, without having to hide behind Hannah’s unending charisma and stage presence.
You and Mikayla put it all behind you at seventeen, when Hannah cornered her backstage at the American Music Awards and told Mikayla she was done, and if Mikayla wasn’t done as well, then Hannah was done with her. Mikayla bitched and whined, but Hannah stood her ground, and the “frenemy” days were over, mostly because you were sick of Mikayla treating you one way as Miley and the complete opposite as Hannah. When Lilly went off to Berkeley, Mikayla became another best friend, and you finally told Mikayla the Secret when you were both nineteen, six months before you married Jake.
“Miles,” Mikayla starts, but you don’t let her finish.
“I’m sorry, I know that was completely uncalled for. Even two years later, it still hurts, Kayla.”
“I know.” Mikayla takes a bite of her salad and glances over at you, seeing the hurt in your eyes, and puzzles for a moment, almost like she’s looking for answers she’s sure are lurking just under the surface. You know that Lilly could effortlessly find what Mikayla was searching for, and the thought makes you smirk slightly, because even after all the progress you and Mikayla have made, Lilly still hates her. That would have bothered you years ago, but now you’re okay with the fact that your two best friends don’t get along. You know that it’s a combination of conflicting personalities, Mikayla’s cockiness and Lilly’s jealousy. The last one makes you smile slightly, even though you have no idea why.
“And NO,” you begin again, effectively snapping back to reality, “I never felt it with Jake. I always thought you were supposed to feel it with you true love, or whatever. That’s how Daddy always talked about Mama.”
“It’s not that simple Miles,” Mikayla fumbled, something incredibly rare for her. Your eyes meet deep brown ones and you see disbelief, then realization. Of what, you have no idea. You do know that you don’t like it at all. “It’s just…sometimes it’s that, but other times it’s an indicator of attraction, or your chemistry with someone. Kinda like getting butterflies in your stomach in your stomach around someone you like. And yes, I’ve felt it with more than one, but not with everybody I’ve ever dated. You’ve seriously never felt that?”
“The spark, no, but the stomach flips I have,” you sigh as you pick at your salad, not remotely hungry anymore. Unbidden, your thoughts drift to Lilly. You’d missed her so much when she left for Berkeley. She’s moving back to Malibu at the end of the semester, and you couldn’t be happier. In a strange way, it feels like part of you has been missing while she was there, even though you talk nearly every day. Like right now, Lilly would turn her nose up at your soup and salad and insist that you eat something decent, like a chili dog or a triple-stacked cheeseburger or something equally ridiculous. She’d drag you by the arm in pursuit of the nearest fast-food strip, leaving your stomach backflipping faster than Hannah’s dancers, those damn goosebumps on your arm and an electric feel all over your skin-
“Miles? Miley!” Mikayla yelps as you suddenly jump several inches out of your chair, knocking over a water glass in the process. You’re barely aware of the server coming over at the commotion. He quickly cleans up the mess and the rest of the empty plates, and suddenly the images begin to play through your mind, like a slideshow on crack, of the last decade or so. Of your friendship, your overly affectionate touching, your jealousy over past relationships, and other little things that you’d always accepted without question before, that now demand answers. Even though you fear what those answers might be. Or what they could mean. It’s all too much-
“Miley! What the hell’s wrong with you?!?” Her voice jars you enough that you finally notice Mikayla silently thank the waiter, then look at your face, which you’re sure is now deathly pale to match the fear coursing through your whole body. You can’t be here. Not now.
“I…I’ve gotta go,” you stutter as you hurry to grab your purse, throwing a wad of bills on the table to cover lunch.
“Miley.” Mikayla reaches out for your arm, not willing to leave you alone in this state. You see she’s scared and confused, but that’s the least of your concerns.
“Kayla, I can’t deal with this right now,” you rush out, eyes darting wildly and never meeting Mikayla’s. “Look, I’ll call you, and if not, same time next week?”
Mikayla sighs as she runs her hands through her long dark hair, knowing she won’t win this one. “At least take a cab home, okay? I don’t want you driving like this.”
You agree, to what you’re not sure. At this point you’d agree to anything to get out of there faster. You leave the café at a run, macchiato in hand, and Mikayla wondering what the hell is going through your mind. You wish you knew yourself.
______________________________________________________
You sit at the café, sipping on a latte, impatiently tapping your fingers on the table. You’re waiting for Miley to meet you for lunch, and check your phone for the third time in as many minutes. 12:28. Miley isn’t late…yet.
Miley never called after lunch abruptly ended the week before, and while it nearly killed you, you didn’t call her either. You know Miley well enough to know that she likes to brood a while before facing her demons. The worst time was two years ago, right after the divorce. Robby Ray, Jackson, and Oliver had moved all of Miley’s things out of the loft she shared with Jake while Miley stayed long enough to meet the cheating ass at the door with divorce papers. That night, she came back home and locked herself in her old bedroom for almost a week, barely even acknowledging her family. Nothing you, her family or Oliver said could draw her out, and Lilly had been on a three-week-long study abroad trip to Madrid when it happened and couldn’t be reached by phone. Desperate by this point, you found the flight information both by rummaging through Miley’s things and through your own connections (because, hello, you’re Mikayla) and met Lilly at LAX. Lilly was furious at seeing you there instead of Miley, but then demanded you take her to the Stewart house upon finding out about Jake.
Even now, you still remember the ride to Miley’s in your Porsche convertible, Lilly riding shotgun. Lilly shook all over and snapped anytime you said anything. Lilly’s blue eyes, the ones so similar to Miley’s and yet so different, were full of tears and conflicting emotions. You saw the usual pain, sadness and anger, but you also saw love, and maybe even the smallest glimmer of hope. Sure enough, upon arriving at the Stewart's, Lilly managed to talk her down enough to come out of her room and talk to everyone else. And when Miley fell asleep that night in Lilly’s arms, you watched Lilly watch her sleep. Miley’s expression as she slept was peaceful, though exhausted, and…content, more so than she’d been in years. That night something shifted, and you began to wonder, and observe far more than anyone would ever give you credit for.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Miley rushes out as she sits down across from you. It’s enough to snap you out of your thoughts. “Traffic was ridiculous.”
She places her order as you scan her appearance. Miley is dressed in a couple of long-sleeve layering t-shirts with baggy black gauchos and Crocs, complete with a scarf your mom made her last Christmas and a floppy hat Lilly gave her from a trip to Seattle. Cute and easy, you think, then notice the heavy makeup under Miley’s eyes, indicating she hasn’t slept well in a while.
“So what’s new this week?” Miley asks, and you’re more than willing to comply with her unspoken request to not mention last week. So you do what you do best…make it all about you.
“Well, recording has been an absolute bitch,” you begin. “I can’t get the background vocal for ‘Scandalous’ right, and Nick’s been hanging around the studio like a lost puppy and it’s so annoying.”
“Pouty pop star say what?” she asks with her eyebrows raised. Apparently she thinks it’s funny that Nick can’t take the hint when you send him for Starbucks three times in an afternoon. “I thought we wanted him to hang around like a lost puppy.” A smirk spreads across Miley’s face and you think she’s enjoying this far too much. Even though the two of you are best friends now, sometimes she still likes to get under your skin. Okay, so maybe you like to get under hers, too.
“I did, but seriously? I need my space, especially in the studio,” you whine. “He and his brothers record, they know what it’s like.”
“Yeah, but lately you’ve been hangin’ all over him like gravy on a biscuit, Kayla,” Miley teases. “He’s a boy, of course he’s gonna think he’s supposed to follow you everywhere. Just tell him you need space in the studio to do your thang. Or just lock him out next time you send him to Starbucks. That’ll do it.”
You both laugh, and just when you notice it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, the soups and salads arrive. Conversation ceases as you both stuff your faces, but just when you’re about to ask her what she’s brooding over, Miley breaks the silence.
“Hey, I’m really sorry about last week. I just…” she trails off uncertainly. “My head was in a million different places, and it was just too much.”
“No, it’s okay,” you reassure her, even if you’re not sure it is. “I was just worried about you. What was that all about, anyway?”
Miley dropped her eyes to the table, and just as you’re about to give up, she steels herself for the inevitable and finally meets your eyes.
“Mikayla, have you ever known someone who isn’t…straight?” Miley asks nonchalantly, but you’ve never seen her more vulnerable in the seven years you’ve been friends. You suck in a breath and steel yourself too. This is the moment you’ve been anticipating for two years now, maybe even longer. However unsurprised you might be, you still have no idea what to say.
“Well, Miles, this is California,” you laugh, dodging the real issue. “And we are famous…”
Miley picks at her salad as she cracks a barely-there smile. “No, Mik,” she sighs, “I mean real people, not bicurious celebrities.”
“Hmmm,” you eye her warily, “maybe. Why do you ask?”
“Well…does it change things?” she asks, then hastily begins to elaborate. “I mean, as far as being friends with them? It would change your relationships with everyone, I would think. Friends, family-“
“Miley.” You cut off her rambling, because you can’t stand seeing her like this, and you can’t stand to listen to anymore word vomit. Just another minute and she’d lose control of the filter between her mind and mouth. “I guess…I guess it could change some things, but if you really love them, then it wouldn’t. They’re still people, and really, everyone’s exactly the same. We all just wanna be loved and accepted.”
A long, pregnant pause follows your words as she picks at her salad and you swirl your soup around with the ladel-size thing it came with. It’s far too big to be called a spoon. Both of you have long since lost your appetites. You tread carefully, aware that this conversation could destroy your best friend, and you really don’t feel like breaking in another one. It took you nearly three years to break in Miley. Finally you’ve had enough of the silence.
“Miles-”
“Mikay-”
You both laugh a little too hard, and eventually fall silent, until Miley speaks up once again.
“Mikayla, what did you say to this person you knew?” Her tone betrays a desperation that you haven’t heard in years, and her bright blue eyes beg you to answer a far deeper question.
You stay silent so long that Miley probably thinks you’re ignoring her, but really you’re trying to think of the right words to soothe her fears away. Finally, you decide on what you want your best friend to know, even if she never does tell you her last secret. You'll answer the question she’s asking with both her words and her eyes, and tell her the honest truth.
You take a deep breath and stare directly into Miley’s eyes. “I told them that it didn’t change anything as long as they were true to themselves.”
“Mikayla…” Her voice cracks and her eyes fill with tears as she puts her head in her hands. You jump up and pull up a seat next to her, then pull her into your arms.
“I know, Miley,” you murmur as she begins to sob in earnest now, releasing everything she’s held back for years. “I know. It’s okay, Miles, it’s gonna be okay.”
Tomorrow you’ll help her figure out exactly what it all means. Tomorrow you’ll walk her through how to tell Robby Ray and Jackson, and Oliver and Sarah. Tomorrow the two of you will find a way to tell Lilly that Miley is in love with her (yes, you know that, too).
But today…all that’s left to do is cry.
Pairing: Miley/Mikayla friendship, implied Miley/Lilly
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2707
Spoilers: "Acky Jakey Heart, Pts. 1-2" & "That's What Friends Are For?"
Disclaimer: see journal sidebar
A/N: Missing scene from "Cowgirls Don't Cry." Slightly AU future-fic. What if Miley and Jake didn't break up in "Acky Jakey Heart, Pt. 2?" And what if Miley actually took Mikayla up on the offer to be friends in "That's What Friends Are For?" Also, this is a femslash story (very light, but still), so if that's not your thing, then either open your mind or hit the "back" button. This is my first fanfic ever, so please be brutally honest.
Summary: Miley and Mikayla do lunch, and Miley discovers that some secrets aren't really secrets at all...
The realization hits you as Mikayla raves on and on about how cute Nick is, and how sweet he is when he’s being shy, and how she gets chills every time they touch, and the spark of electricity she feels between them when they kiss. You’ve never felt that thing Mikayla is talking about. The spark.
“Shut it, Mik,” you snap as the server brings your soups and salads, purposely calling Mikayla by her most hated nickname. The two of you eat lunch together at 12:30 every Tuesday afternoon at the same café, sometimes even the same table. The staff is awesome about showing paparazzi the door (especially on busy days when you show up as Hannah or when either of you releases an album), and you love having consistent girl time each week. You usually see Mikayla several times a week anyway, but during recording or album launches or other things like that, sometimes weekly lunch is it. But as much as you love Mikayla, you’re sick to death of her going on about how everyone she dates is the love of her life. But one thing still bothers you, and since Mikayla brought it up…
“That whole spark thing,” you begin hesitantly, unsure of how to phrase your question, “is it just with Nick, or every guy you kiss?”
Mikayla gives you an intense stare, her eyes reflecting uncertainty laced with sadness and compassion. “You’ve seriously never felt the spark?” Mikayla questions incredulously, “not even with Jake?”
Mikayla’s brown eyes turn almost black and her face transforms into its trademark sneer when you glare at her coldly for mentioning your ex-husband.
“Well, did you?” You shoot back, more hurt than angry. The drama of those years is long gone, but traces of your younger selves still drop by to visit from time to time. At twenty-three, both of your personalities have changed and matured, but not by much. Mikayla’s still snarky and a little bitchy, but it’s mostly endearing now, laughter dancing in her eyes along with a mischievious smirk that, you think, makes her even more beautiful. She’s also highly protective of her friends, you in particular. You, on the other hand, are still hyper-driven and a bit of a drama queen, but most of the drama died with your teenage years, and you no longer carry out the silly schemes your mind creates from time to time. While Lilly had always gone along, Mikayla firmly refused. You’re also much more confident as Miley, without having to hide behind Hannah’s unending charisma and stage presence.
You and Mikayla put it all behind you at seventeen, when Hannah cornered her backstage at the American Music Awards and told Mikayla she was done, and if Mikayla wasn’t done as well, then Hannah was done with her. Mikayla bitched and whined, but Hannah stood her ground, and the “frenemy” days were over, mostly because you were sick of Mikayla treating you one way as Miley and the complete opposite as Hannah. When Lilly went off to Berkeley, Mikayla became another best friend, and you finally told Mikayla the Secret when you were both nineteen, six months before you married Jake.
“Miles,” Mikayla starts, but you don’t let her finish.
“I’m sorry, I know that was completely uncalled for. Even two years later, it still hurts, Kayla.”
“I know.” Mikayla takes a bite of her salad and glances over at you, seeing the hurt in your eyes, and puzzles for a moment, almost like she’s looking for answers she’s sure are lurking just under the surface. You know that Lilly could effortlessly find what Mikayla was searching for, and the thought makes you smirk slightly, because even after all the progress you and Mikayla have made, Lilly still hates her. That would have bothered you years ago, but now you’re okay with the fact that your two best friends don’t get along. You know that it’s a combination of conflicting personalities, Mikayla’s cockiness and Lilly’s jealousy. The last one makes you smile slightly, even though you have no idea why.
“And NO,” you begin again, effectively snapping back to reality, “I never felt it with Jake. I always thought you were supposed to feel it with you true love, or whatever. That’s how Daddy always talked about Mama.”
“It’s not that simple Miles,” Mikayla fumbled, something incredibly rare for her. Your eyes meet deep brown ones and you see disbelief, then realization. Of what, you have no idea. You do know that you don’t like it at all. “It’s just…sometimes it’s that, but other times it’s an indicator of attraction, or your chemistry with someone. Kinda like getting butterflies in your stomach in your stomach around someone you like. And yes, I’ve felt it with more than one, but not with everybody I’ve ever dated. You’ve seriously never felt that?”
“The spark, no, but the stomach flips I have,” you sigh as you pick at your salad, not remotely hungry anymore. Unbidden, your thoughts drift to Lilly. You’d missed her so much when she left for Berkeley. She’s moving back to Malibu at the end of the semester, and you couldn’t be happier. In a strange way, it feels like part of you has been missing while she was there, even though you talk nearly every day. Like right now, Lilly would turn her nose up at your soup and salad and insist that you eat something decent, like a chili dog or a triple-stacked cheeseburger or something equally ridiculous. She’d drag you by the arm in pursuit of the nearest fast-food strip, leaving your stomach backflipping faster than Hannah’s dancers, those damn goosebumps on your arm and an electric feel all over your skin-
“Miles? Miley!” Mikayla yelps as you suddenly jump several inches out of your chair, knocking over a water glass in the process. You’re barely aware of the server coming over at the commotion. He quickly cleans up the mess and the rest of the empty plates, and suddenly the images begin to play through your mind, like a slideshow on crack, of the last decade or so. Of your friendship, your overly affectionate touching, your jealousy over past relationships, and other little things that you’d always accepted without question before, that now demand answers. Even though you fear what those answers might be. Or what they could mean. It’s all too much-
“Miley! What the hell’s wrong with you?!?” Her voice jars you enough that you finally notice Mikayla silently thank the waiter, then look at your face, which you’re sure is now deathly pale to match the fear coursing through your whole body. You can’t be here. Not now.
“I…I’ve gotta go,” you stutter as you hurry to grab your purse, throwing a wad of bills on the table to cover lunch.
“Miley.” Mikayla reaches out for your arm, not willing to leave you alone in this state. You see she’s scared and confused, but that’s the least of your concerns.
“Kayla, I can’t deal with this right now,” you rush out, eyes darting wildly and never meeting Mikayla’s. “Look, I’ll call you, and if not, same time next week?”
Mikayla sighs as she runs her hands through her long dark hair, knowing she won’t win this one. “At least take a cab home, okay? I don’t want you driving like this.”
You agree, to what you’re not sure. At this point you’d agree to anything to get out of there faster. You leave the café at a run, macchiato in hand, and Mikayla wondering what the hell is going through your mind. You wish you knew yourself.
______________________________________________________
You sit at the café, sipping on a latte, impatiently tapping your fingers on the table. You’re waiting for Miley to meet you for lunch, and check your phone for the third time in as many minutes. 12:28. Miley isn’t late…yet.
Miley never called after lunch abruptly ended the week before, and while it nearly killed you, you didn’t call her either. You know Miley well enough to know that she likes to brood a while before facing her demons. The worst time was two years ago, right after the divorce. Robby Ray, Jackson, and Oliver had moved all of Miley’s things out of the loft she shared with Jake while Miley stayed long enough to meet the cheating ass at the door with divorce papers. That night, she came back home and locked herself in her old bedroom for almost a week, barely even acknowledging her family. Nothing you, her family or Oliver said could draw her out, and Lilly had been on a three-week-long study abroad trip to Madrid when it happened and couldn’t be reached by phone. Desperate by this point, you found the flight information both by rummaging through Miley’s things and through your own connections (because, hello, you’re Mikayla) and met Lilly at LAX. Lilly was furious at seeing you there instead of Miley, but then demanded you take her to the Stewart house upon finding out about Jake.
Even now, you still remember the ride to Miley’s in your Porsche convertible, Lilly riding shotgun. Lilly shook all over and snapped anytime you said anything. Lilly’s blue eyes, the ones so similar to Miley’s and yet so different, were full of tears and conflicting emotions. You saw the usual pain, sadness and anger, but you also saw love, and maybe even the smallest glimmer of hope. Sure enough, upon arriving at the Stewart's, Lilly managed to talk her down enough to come out of her room and talk to everyone else. And when Miley fell asleep that night in Lilly’s arms, you watched Lilly watch her sleep. Miley’s expression as she slept was peaceful, though exhausted, and…content, more so than she’d been in years. That night something shifted, and you began to wonder, and observe far more than anyone would ever give you credit for.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Miley rushes out as she sits down across from you. It’s enough to snap you out of your thoughts. “Traffic was ridiculous.”
She places her order as you scan her appearance. Miley is dressed in a couple of long-sleeve layering t-shirts with baggy black gauchos and Crocs, complete with a scarf your mom made her last Christmas and a floppy hat Lilly gave her from a trip to Seattle. Cute and easy, you think, then notice the heavy makeup under Miley’s eyes, indicating she hasn’t slept well in a while.
“So what’s new this week?” Miley asks, and you’re more than willing to comply with her unspoken request to not mention last week. So you do what you do best…make it all about you.
“Well, recording has been an absolute bitch,” you begin. “I can’t get the background vocal for ‘Scandalous’ right, and Nick’s been hanging around the studio like a lost puppy and it’s so annoying.”
“Pouty pop star say what?” she asks with her eyebrows raised. Apparently she thinks it’s funny that Nick can’t take the hint when you send him for Starbucks three times in an afternoon. “I thought we wanted him to hang around like a lost puppy.” A smirk spreads across Miley’s face and you think she’s enjoying this far too much. Even though the two of you are best friends now, sometimes she still likes to get under your skin. Okay, so maybe you like to get under hers, too.
“I did, but seriously? I need my space, especially in the studio,” you whine. “He and his brothers record, they know what it’s like.”
“Yeah, but lately you’ve been hangin’ all over him like gravy on a biscuit, Kayla,” Miley teases. “He’s a boy, of course he’s gonna think he’s supposed to follow you everywhere. Just tell him you need space in the studio to do your thang. Or just lock him out next time you send him to Starbucks. That’ll do it.”
You both laugh, and just when you notice it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, the soups and salads arrive. Conversation ceases as you both stuff your faces, but just when you’re about to ask her what she’s brooding over, Miley breaks the silence.
“Hey, I’m really sorry about last week. I just…” she trails off uncertainly. “My head was in a million different places, and it was just too much.”
“No, it’s okay,” you reassure her, even if you’re not sure it is. “I was just worried about you. What was that all about, anyway?”
Miley dropped her eyes to the table, and just as you’re about to give up, she steels herself for the inevitable and finally meets your eyes.
“Mikayla, have you ever known someone who isn’t…straight?” Miley asks nonchalantly, but you’ve never seen her more vulnerable in the seven years you’ve been friends. You suck in a breath and steel yourself too. This is the moment you’ve been anticipating for two years now, maybe even longer. However unsurprised you might be, you still have no idea what to say.
“Well, Miles, this is California,” you laugh, dodging the real issue. “And we are famous…”
Miley picks at her salad as she cracks a barely-there smile. “No, Mik,” she sighs, “I mean real people, not bicurious celebrities.”
“Hmmm,” you eye her warily, “maybe. Why do you ask?”
“Well…does it change things?” she asks, then hastily begins to elaborate. “I mean, as far as being friends with them? It would change your relationships with everyone, I would think. Friends, family-“
“Miley.” You cut off her rambling, because you can’t stand seeing her like this, and you can’t stand to listen to anymore word vomit. Just another minute and she’d lose control of the filter between her mind and mouth. “I guess…I guess it could change some things, but if you really love them, then it wouldn’t. They’re still people, and really, everyone’s exactly the same. We all just wanna be loved and accepted.”
A long, pregnant pause follows your words as she picks at her salad and you swirl your soup around with the ladel-size thing it came with. It’s far too big to be called a spoon. Both of you have long since lost your appetites. You tread carefully, aware that this conversation could destroy your best friend, and you really don’t feel like breaking in another one. It took you nearly three years to break in Miley. Finally you’ve had enough of the silence.
“Miles-”
“Mikay-”
You both laugh a little too hard, and eventually fall silent, until Miley speaks up once again.
“Mikayla, what did you say to this person you knew?” Her tone betrays a desperation that you haven’t heard in years, and her bright blue eyes beg you to answer a far deeper question.
You stay silent so long that Miley probably thinks you’re ignoring her, but really you’re trying to think of the right words to soothe her fears away. Finally, you decide on what you want your best friend to know, even if she never does tell you her last secret. You'll answer the question she’s asking with both her words and her eyes, and tell her the honest truth.
You take a deep breath and stare directly into Miley’s eyes. “I told them that it didn’t change anything as long as they were true to themselves.”
“Mikayla…” Her voice cracks and her eyes fill with tears as she puts her head in her hands. You jump up and pull up a seat next to her, then pull her into your arms.
“I know, Miley,” you murmur as she begins to sob in earnest now, releasing everything she’s held back for years. “I know. It’s okay, Miles, it’s gonna be okay.”
Tomorrow you’ll help her figure out exactly what it all means. Tomorrow you’ll walk her through how to tell Robby Ray and Jackson, and Oliver and Sarah. Tomorrow the two of you will find a way to tell Lilly that Miley is in love with her (yes, you know that, too).
But today…all that’s left to do is cry.