One Shot. And Let's just say Avan is an OC character. (even if I just used him because of all the rumors flying around haha). I hope you like it, it's kind of dark, but it's gives a sense of hope. Please review I would really like it. I don't own anything especially Miley and Nick, just my thoughts. haha. Love ya'll :)

She starts the letter out with a curse word as she takes a hit of the cigarette lying between her fingers, leaving open the drawer that held so much of her pain. And her eyes wander towards to wind.

The leaves are changing color, just like her hair. One moment blonde, the next dead like the leaves on the ground.

She doesn't know where her life is going, but she knows she can't stay in one place especially not here. Not here in a house that held memories of him. Not in a house they spent all their lives working for (only for it to crash, crash, crash).

Her eyes are back at the paper and her fingers are around the pencil instead of something that sneaks in her lungs and kills her slowly (but she swears she could snap and stab herself with the same lead on the paper). And again the curse word is the only thing written, just like the last thousand letters she had previously on her desk since he left.

And he's standing there wondering how in the hell he got someone like her. He sees her full of life even if its bitter and just plain dark, but he can see it, he can see those gray eyes spark a little blue and he just wants to fight for that.

She can tell his tall figure by the door as she looks out the window once again, just like he's always been there every morning since they met. She hasn't told him, the reason for her dead soul and she swears she never will. It's too close to her heart, too damn fucking close and she doesn't want to let it go that easily. He doesn't know how much this house kills her or else he would have asked her to move in.

(But he knows he has seen the drawer and he read the letters and the article about the car crash. He knows of him and he knows how much her heart doesn't really belong to him because it never left the right person to begin with.)

He wants to fight back his urge to just kiss her at that moment, but he knows. He knows her head is caught up somewhere else, just as it always has been this exact day.

The cigarette reaches her mouth again and her mind reads over the curse word on the paper. And she's reminded of him all over again.

His brown orbs, his slender hands that were meant to play the piano, his dark curly hair that shaped his face, oh his face is printed all over her memory.

Fuck she thinks to herself, why the fuck did you have to leave? Why couldn't you stay, just fucking stay? (He's not as far as you think, Miley).

The crash. The one thing that lead to her downfall (like a domino effect).

His broken face against the glass flashes in front of her. The blinding lights that flashed in front of her before everything went black replays in her memory.

And she tries to sob back her tears now. She doesn't want to worry him, the one standing by the door. (Even though he's been worried the minute he landed on her lifeless eyes).

And she sucks in the toxins again.

And he holds his breathe with her. He knows. He knows how much he loves her. He knows how much she won't belong to him fully. And to say his heart wasn't breaking, well that's a lie.

Hers was already breaking. No hers was beyond breaking, it was shattered. Her heart shattered just like the glass along the road. She wants to believe otherwise, but she can't. And she knows how much she is sucking the life out of her new guy. (To say new is a lie, he's been there months after she lost everything and has been since then).

And the blood across his porcelain skin flashed in front of her again. Now she can't choke back the sobs. Her tears are staining her cheeks, finding their way onto her clothes and burning her eyes.

He knows now. He knows that now is the time for him to swoop in like always. And there she finds herself in his dark-skinned arms. He's whispering sweet little nothings to her and she doesn't know how the hell she deserved someone like him.

His figure, broken and dead on the road in front of her hits her memory again. And it's like she was there again barely conscious staring that the brown eyes that no longer held life.

"Miley," she hears a whisper from his husky plush lips (but she wishes it was him, the one covered in blood as her last image, instead).

She shakes her head. She wants to die. She can't stand it anymore as the image flashes over and over in her head.

Blinding light.

Flash.

"Nick!" she screams at the sudden realization that the car was going to hit them.

Flash.

Her screams are muffled by the closing space in front of her as she feels his body covering hers.

Flash.

His dead body lying amidst the glass and the blood staining the asphalt ground as it seeps through the cracks.

Flash.

And her world suddenly caving in as she her eyes surrender to the darkness.

"Miley," she hears again. And now she can't help but sob harder. And he's pulling her deeper into his embrace rocking her back and forth gently.

"Avan" she manages to cry out in between her sobs. "Avan, Avan, Avan."

And he shushes her quietly as he holds her.

He knows it. She would like to think he doesn't. But he does. He knows her heart doesn't belong to him. He knows that he's the best she's got right now but he's not want she wants as she dreams or sleeps or even just in the moment. (But that doesn't mean she doesn't love him any less).

Her brokenness intrigued him. Her gray, bottomless eyes lured him in. And her need for him captured his heart. (You can say he's twisted in his own way, trust me he knows it). And her mysterious, bitter, and hating soul doesn't chase him away because that spark of life he can see in her eye brings him back every morning to this broken home she lives in.

Her sobs are quietly stopping and she finds comfort in his arms. She doesn't understand it. She doesn't want to think of herself as a heart-sucking leech to a man, a man who is saving her life. She wants to love him. And she does. But she can't stop being reminded of him.

Her heart aches for him and she knows whose name she is whispering in her dreams. She knows whose name she would like to scream as he enters her. (And it isn't his, but she screams his name anyways because he's something.)

And she knows her heart belongs to the curly-mess of a hair boy whose life flashed before her, who she buried, who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with but fate didn't let her.

She leans into his chest as she stares out the window and takes another drag.

And he knows that spark deep in her eyes holds a place in his heart. He knows he's gaining space in hers and even if he can't be sure she belongs to him, she still manages to put his heart together even when she's breaking it slowly.

He feels her hand bringing the cigarette towards his mouth. She places it on his lips as he takes a hit.

"Don't let me go," she manages to whisper and shutting herself up with another drag of the cigarette as the last bit of ashes fall onto the floor.