Consider Me Destroyed

I lifted her arm from her left side and dragged her wrist as my left hand shoved the door to backstage open and pushed us through, slamming it on our backs loud enough for the bracketing of the door's frame to shower spells of white speckled dust onto our shoulders as we rested automatically against the back of the door before composing ourselves once again. And possibly apologies for catching her sparkly dress on the the piece of wood I insisted in shutting so abruptly seconds ago.

She wavered and smiled lightly, "I missed you too, Jonas." Was my mumbled verbal response from her, her head facing away downwards from my own as her hands yanked at the ends of the long material she wore, trying to free it from the gap between the door and the wall. I missed her too, in some twisted strange way. Even being around her myself now I felt a slight longing for the old me, the one who existed less than six months ago, before we all changed and became who we were now - or thought we were at least.

I felt memories of times I missed flooding back, times like watching Miley shoot the first episodes of Hannah Montana and goofing around backstage about how her and Nick should become a couple, chasing each other around closed sets at night whilst our parents all sat in meetings with Disney reps, waiting till the costume room was vacated after 6am each morning and switching Emily and Miley's outfits for the day so they both walked on set with the wrong clothes on and confused everyone... kids stuff.
Innocent stuff.
Stuff I cant ever get back.

My thoughts were interrupted once again though, first by a sharp ripping sound as her dress became detached from the small crevice it had been trapped between, and again by her brunette locks flipping upwards across her face as Miley tilted her head up and looked me straight in the eye, suddenly serious. "So, you never did answer my question a minute ago... how is Nick?"