"London is Calling 6" demi lovato/selena gomez - t
Title: London is Calling, Part 6/ ? (10, I think)
Fandom: Disney RPF
Pairing: Demi/Selena
Rating: T
Words: 3900~
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, borrowing real people's personas based on my personal perceptions of them. Not intended for profit or offense.
Summary A busy summer in 2009 has passed for both Demi and Selena with neither yet coming to terms with their new relationship to each other; are they still friends?
Part One, please
Part Two, please
Part Three, please
Part Four, please
Part Five, please
Anymore, I don't know who to trust anymore, I don't know what I want anymore, anymore.
Song: MuteMath - Clipping / Read the Lyrics
Common sense failed again,
Meddling in a foreign scene, foreign dream.
Time won’t spare another sun,
Daring me with another choice,
Another choice.
Sweat pants. Demi wears them everyday now that she's back home, finished with her extensive summer tour and sophomore album promotions. After those long days of busying around L.A., she sheds her fashionable layers as she walks from front door to bedroom threshold, choosing always to don the same pair of black sweatpants with the big white logo down the leg. And although her mom will scold her when she finds the trail of clothing throughout the house that has yet to be picked up, Demi's always on time with laundry duty, so she gets away with little more than a wagged finger. This, and perhaps the extended hours she now spends in her room with the door closed, are the only indication that something may be off with her. But no one takes too much mind; her guitar can usually be heard through the door anyway, so her family opts to leave her a creative space.
Behind closed doors, however, there is a different scene. At least ten times every night, Demi prepares a text message to Selena. A different one every time, a change in tone, a different smiley face, or none at all. And each time, she snaps shut her phone before the draft is finished. She also hates that she feels clingy, without an actual physical person to be clingy to.
Demi had asked to see Selena again once she got back from filming in Canada. Selena had said yes. But the weeks, the months have passed and neither girl has made a move. She was way too busy during those summer months in between to feel so discombobulated by Selena's absence in her life, but being back in L.A. is making it all too clear for her. Demi feels rushed, while time moves by inexorably slow. Soon she'll have to leave for Canada for Camp Rock 2 filming, and she's already started learning the songs and dances with her cast mates in Boot Camp in LA. They'll be in the same boat as before, scheduling making it impossible to see each other.
In the meantime, Demi sings her songs and moves her body and laughs and jokes and twitters, while the back of her mind is still waiting on a call that might not come.
Right now, in her bedroom at nine minutes past eleven on a slightly windy night, Demi is rolling up her sweat pants higher on her leg, her fingers touching the lightly indented and pink markings just above her ankles from the elastic of the pants. The wind from outside her window is shaking the trees like a brush broom through carpet, bringing the cool of the approaching Fall.. She's got old Spanish love & lost songs playing on her stereo, a mix she got from her step father a few winters ago. Most songs include a dusty guitar and even dustier vocals, but even though Demi doesn't know much Spanish, she hears the story through the tone, and sometimes her fingers twitch to the notes she likes.
Demi moves to the floor and stretches her legs in a wide split, leaning forward to reach as far as she can on the carpet in front of her. Her calves and quads are throbbing from intense rehearsal for "Can't Back Down." So is her back, for that matter. 'Too much booty poppin',' Alyson likes to tell her.
The song drifting out of her stereo changes to one of her favorites. She feels emotional when she listens to this song. Again, she can't quite understand the words, but she feels a sorrowful seduction in the rising melody and harmonizing vocals. She can feel each finger pick on the strings within her stomach; it's so deep and engulfing. Reaching to her left leg, her hands strain to reach behind her foot, keeping her leg as straight as possible. She slows her breathing and closes her eyes, feeling the stretch relax her whole body, as the song and the feelings it evokes in her wash over.
Her mind's eye sees flashes of red and brown and orange, like a desert sunset, like a dancing woman, twirling the dust around her feet with the trail of her long red skirt. The dust rising around her hips is pushed and pulled with the sway of her body, a seductive swoop and swirl of cloth and flesh beneath. Arms lifting to the evening sky, hands circling around wrist joints and fingers curving delicately, as if cupping so many precious flowers floating in the air. Demi moves to her right lazily as her mind's eye sweeps up and down the dancing girl in her head. Dark as night hair shining bright in the evening falls in locks down her back, bouncing with movement and life and sensuality. Demi wants to dance with her, feels her heart pick up the beat of the guitar and her fingers restlessly grasp for a touch of hair, dress, skin. Her body fits perfectly with this bella nina, as if they've danced before, touched before. The seduction is taking over, unspoken but felt, and as the melody crashes in waves of greater intensity, a sense of forbidden-ness, of risk, fills the air. Putting her lips to the bailarina's neck, Demi can feel those locks of soft hair caress her forehead and cheeks, a feeling reminiscent of her forlorn love; she's definitely felt this before. Like satin across skin, the feeling is enticing and Demi wants more. But as feelings escalate, and Demi's flesh burns, the song strengthens it's tone of sadness, but Demi keeps dancing and touching and kissing and moving; regret and loss are heard in the lower notes, and the seductive tones begin to flicker like a candle flame, burning brightly for an instant before receding, and all that Demi sees now is color, red, orange, flames, desire, bed sheets, sparks, golden hair, golden highlights, tan skin, bright, bright, bright eyes in darkness, a striking grey blue and suddenly, it's Miley, in front of her, on top of her, moving with her, whispering to her - !
Demi's heart constricts in the most painful manner and jolts her from her dreamscape, her body lurching up on her knees and falling forward, to leave her crumpled face first on the carpet, breathing raggedly and with fresh tears burning her eyes. The song is dissipating in the background, a single note being plucked ever slower, until it fades to nothingness.
Demi feels betrayed by her subconscious, hurt in an intimately painful way, in a way she fears desperately. How could she? How could she still feel like this? How would she be able to prove to Selena, to herself, that she is truly sorry for her mistake, when she can't shake the feeling of Miley's body against hers, when she can't forget the sound of their softly racing hearts in their throats? She tells herself that Miley is just a friend, she feels like it's the truth, but how can she be sure? How can she be sure she won't fall into step with that seductive chorus again?
From the floor, Demi watches her hand ball up into a fist, gripping the carpet as hard as she can until her knuckles turn white with strain, her face contorts in anger, and she wishes someone would punish her for being such a useless sorry excuse for human being. If she could bleed out all the bad within her, if she could vomit up all that disgusts her about herself... she would.
She would.
~~//~~
The purple and blue and red and green of the Christmas lights in the studio cast sparkles of color on Selena's lyric sheets and skin, glittering on her bracelets and in her eyes. She taps her fingers on the stand in front of her, waiting to hear the "ok" from the sound technician. She's in the studio working on her "sound," and running over some changes for "Falling Down". The summer has been nothing but hours in the studio, writing, recording and fine-tuning her debut onto the music scene. She's still learning the ropes of being in a band, but she's also being guided by some of the preeminent names in the business these days. At least, that's what her rep tells her and her mom. Selena admits she knows close to jack squat about the "music biz," and is more than happy to release the reigns to the corporation that's guided and mapped her career since the beginning. With her first single release date looming ever closer, and her album drop coming just behind it, Selena's more than a little nervous. She's lost count of the times her mind has run through scenarios of her completely flopping, and worse than even making a fool of herself, she fears losing touch with some of her fans, which is what this whole band thing is pretty much about. Selena likes to sing, and she'd like to share that with the kids that enjoy her work, but if they don't appreciate it, then she'd be much happier (and her ego much safer) if she just stuck with singing in the car and shower.
Sometimes during her vocal lessons, she remembers tips that Demi used to give her, things she'd learn about on her freshman concert tours and learning to sing while dancing in Camp Rock. She remembers with particular detail the afternoon when Demi taught her about the diaphragm. The muscle stretching beneath the lungs held tremendous hidden power, she learned. Feeling her skin burn beneath her tank top where Demi's fingers were poking hard just below her chest, Selena expanded her lungs with a deep breath and held it in, pushing against Demi's hand and looking into her eyes for approval. Demi's eyes were twinkling, Selena remembers them clearly. She remembers too, feeling slightly light-headed after the exercise, but surprised herself with the length that she could hold a note, and from there, Demi taught her to inflect tone in her voice with that same strong breath. It's easier now to breath and sing with that same technique, but her skin memory still sometimes pulses with the feeling of Demi's hands on her; she pushes through it when she focuses on her work.
And sometimes Selena wants to call Demi and relate her experiences about music production to her, she wants to hear Demi's reaction, hear that Demi is proud of her, but at the same time, she doesn't want her approval, she doesn't want to feel like she's doing this for her. After their talk at the yogurt shop a few months ago, Selena's supposed that although she and Demi are not on the same level as before, they're still somewhat friends... but it's awkward. They haven't even talked in person since then, and the most that's been exchanged are a few sparse conversations on twitter. Selena still feels like texting is too intimate, seeing as it was such a pivotal form of communication between them when they were still together, and before then even. And phone calls have been easily avoided because of the excuse of busy schedules.
Selena's only respite are the rare instances of alone time with her mother, where she's free in the knowledge that her mother still loves her even after her "secret lesbian love affair." But even then it's not quite enough, because Mandy's break-up rule-of-thumb has always been to smack talk about her exes - she doesn't do that with Demi though, and Selena thinks maybe it's because she knows her daughter is still dealing with her feelings. That no matter what Selena would like to think, Demi is still very much a part of her heart. And her mother can see it. Ten years of love and friendship can't be put away that easily.
Selena doesn't know who to fight anymore; the girl who broke her heart, or the heart that still wants the girl.
As she hears a throat clearing sound in her headset, Selena looks up to see the sound booth is ready to go, and everyone is waiting on just her now. Selena smiles sheepishly and gives a thumbs up. She clears her mind of all she was just contemplating - her "sound" is about upbeat joy and loving yourself; no more self pity and broken hearts for the next 2 hours while she's recording. She's a professional.
~~//~~
Miley looks over to the passenger's seat, taking in a slumped-shouldered Demi running her fingers along the handles of her purse, her face downturned and her dark sunglasses reflecting only the city streetlights as they pass the window in a blur. Miley's reminded of the feeling of Demi's equally dejected vibe through the phone a few days earlier:
"I need to talk to you. I need to talk to you about what happened," Demi rattled off as if she'd been holding her breath until she heard Miley pick up the line.
Miley didn't need any more explanation than that. "I'm getting ready to go on tour again, but I can pick you up for dinner on Friday after my production meeting. We'll go someplace quiet, and we can talk about whatever ya wanna to talk about."
"... Thank you." Demi whispered, the strength in her body physically leaving her mouth and falling into Miley's lap through the earpiece. Miley feels her heart burst with empathy for her friend.
"I love you, honey, remember that."
"... I'm so confused..."
Miley focuses her attention back to the road as she makes her way out of the city, to a restaurant several miles from the hub of paparazzi streets that crowd the city limits. She didn't get much more out of Demi from that phone call, but she's certain beyond a doubt this has something to do with Selena, and by default, something to do what happened in London.
Miley tries valiantly throughout the evening to bring a smile to Demi's face, but she knows she won't get a genuine reaction out of Demi until she's spilled whatever is burning in her chest onto the white linen-covered dinner table between them. As the waitress leaves from bringing them their after-dinner coffee, Miley calmly spoons sugar into her cup and says, "I think now's a good time, if you wanna get rollin' with your dramas, babygirl."
Demi looks up from spinning her spoon in her now creamed coffee, "Are you sure this place is legit? We're outside, and the street is right there." Her eyes dart nervously past the fencing of the restaurant’s outdoor seating area to the street beyond, peering into parked cars for hints of a camera flash or video recorder red light.
"Chillax already, it checks out. It's off the beaten path and being outside actually has more ambient noise to drown out recordings. Y'all know this, I taught ya, remember?"
Demi purses her lips and nods, remembering such tidbits of information that Miley has gifted her with over these recent media-intensive years. It's times like these when Miley seems so much older than her perky 17 years; it's something that always attracted Demi to her.
Demi picks up her cup to sip, but second guesses the decision as the hot steam assaulting her lips informs that the liquid is still too hot. She knits her eyebrows for a second, and settles for cradling her cup on the table in front of her with both hands, her eyes as swirling brown as her coffee. Miley waits patiently for Demi to find her words.
"... I am... crazy confused about hella shit right now." Miley lets her lips curl at Demi's Californication, but nods for her to continue. "Something's happened between us, London happened, and its changed the way I ... think about things. Some things. Sometimes." Demi looks away from the table to the street, then lets her head fall back to gaze at the overhanging lights and garden vines crawling over the canopy of the outside seating area. Her eyes sparkle with wetness in the dancing lights for a moment, before she blinks and brings her gaze back to Miley.
"I don't know what I want anymore. Well, I mean, I know what I want... but I don't know if I'm strong enough... or good enough - "
"What do you mean? 'Not good enough?' "
Demi sighs and lifts her shoulders in a defensive gesture, saying, "I - I think - I'm still attracted to you. I know I am, I think you're gorgeous and you have soft hair and perfect skin and sometimes I feel like I'm betraying - myself - just by thinking that about you."
Miley gets contemplative, and sips a long and slow sip from her cup before looking back into Demi's nervous eyes. "I'm trying to choose my words carefully here, Dems... I know that you know that there's a difference between love and lust, and even though those things go together really well, there's a missing connection that's... well, it's just missing in some cases. And thinking that I'm a hot piece of ass doesn't mean that you're betraying your feelings for Selena. D'ya see what I'm saying?"
"It's not just that I think you're hot Miley, it's that... we did something together that's... it's made me question things, about myself, and I'm just ... I'm like, afraid. I don't feel in control."
Miley bites her lip and reaches out for Demi to hold her hand. Demi hesitates for a moment, but lets her hand fall into Miley's grip, and listens. "There's something that I've learned, that I think you need to realize. We, humans, are social creatures. We're sexual creatures. Excuse the metaphor, but when it comes down to it, we're animals basically - "
"Whoa, now that's -"
Miley interrupts Demi's rebuttal quickly, "I'm not saying 'We're all just thinking about sex so that makes it ok to just do it,' of course not; but what I'm saying is that, it's not right for us to punish ourselves for feeling. It's not as wrong as what a lot of people say it is."
Demi takes her hand back and shakes her head, "It is wrong, it was wrong. We sinned. And I hurt Selena. And now I'm nothing to her."
Miley doesn't like where Demi's thought processes are taking her. She hits her palm on the table in as restrained a manner as she can muster and almost wags her finger at Demi. She disapproves of self-deprecation intensely. But she knows that's not going to break through to Demi, so she takes another deep breathe and prepares her next words.
"Demi... It was wrong for me to continue in that way with you, when I knew you and Selena had something special. It was wrong that we shared in something that you and your girlfriend, the one you love, had yet to experience. But I'm telling you, and you have to believe me, you ain't messed up now. You ain't walking around with a big scarlet letter on your chest, and you are definitely not worth any less now than you were before London... So stop acting like you are."
Demi looks back into Miley's eyes from under her bangs, her eyebrows low but quirked to show she's hearing what's being said. Miley continues. "Virginity is... it's a state of being, you know? Having it doesn't make you any better than anyone else, and not having it doesn't make you any worse. It's just, a different time in your life. A new experience you go through."
"You know everything you're saying is kinda going in the opposite direction of what we were taught as little Christian girls right?" Demi asks with a sarcastic deadpan. Miley just shrugs her shoulders and says with her hands up, "I ain't sayin' nothin that would jeopardize our sacred grace or what not; I just don't want you to think that you've up an' gone given away this all-powerful gift that has made you less of a woman. That's not how love works. You're still as whole and perfect as ever."
"Perfect is a bit of stretch, there - "
"Shut your face, you're perfect and that's final." Miley shares a genuine smile with Demi, beaming when Demi returns the sincerity.
"I love you, Honey, and you're sexy as all hell. But it's not me you're pining for, it ain't me you're in love with. And I know something that you maybe have forgotten."
"What's that?"
"You deserve to be with Selena. Your love with her isn't over. In fact, I'm quite positive that you're simply incapable of loving anyone else but Selena." Demi's eyes close at the sound of her name. Miley continues, "I know it's been tough because you haven't seen her, but from all that you've told me, I know there's more to it than this."
Demi sniffs once before she replies," It's just that, I can't be sure of anything anymore, I don't know who to trust anymore. She used to be, like, my rock..."
The table drifts into silence for a moment as Demi struggles to calm her suddenly tight breathing, Miley reaches out to massage Demi's hand on the table. Miley's voice drops to just above a whisper, hoping her words would soothe her friend, "Ya know how they say there's a three day hump with exercise plans? And a three week hump for new diets?"
Demi scoffs and swipes a finger beneath her left eye to catch a straying tear, "What the hell Cyrus, this your way of sayin' I need to lose a few?"
"No no, lemme finish!" Miley laughs, slapping Demi's hand. "Ahem, as I was saying, the hump is the hard part, and once you get over it, things get easier. I've learned from my extensive knowledge on all things dating and heartbreak (Demi smiles slightly), that there's a Three Month Hump for broken hearts. Going through a break up really freakin' sucks, but it gets better. But what I think you need to do, is attack this problem head on. You've had enough time apart to get your head straight, and after our little talk tonight, I expect you to be one hundred percent in control of your feelings, kay? I don't even compare to Selena, and you are gonna show her that, yea?"
Demi looks down at the table, but when Miley slaps the table again, she nods, and her smile shows a confidence that had been missing recently.
"Tell me that you are 100 percent, Lovato."
"I'm 100 percent, Cyrus."
"And tell me what you're gonna do, superstar."
"I'm gonna show my girlfriend that this love is forever, and I ain't goin' nowhere. She's it for me." Demi snaps her fingers to emphasize her point.
"There ya go! There's that dominating chick I'm so proud to call my Nighthawk!"
"You're Nighthawk, Miles. I'm Dragon. We talked about this," Demi reminds her in an exasperated tone.
Miley recovers quickly, "Whatever! You're my wingman, and I've got full confidence in you. You and Selena are gonna work shit out, I'm sure of it.
"Hundred percent?" Demi asks, tilting her head to the side and reaching for her now slightly lukewarm coffee.
"Hundred percent." The girls share a smile and a sip of coffee, relaxing back into their chairs.
~~//~~
Dropping Demi off at home later that night, the girls made plans to speak with Selena. It was agreed that Demi needed to talk to her before she had to leave the country for filming. With Miley deciding she needed to confront Selena too, they set a date during a break in their schedules to approach her. All Demi could think about for those next few days was how she was going to convince Selena that all the feelings she still had for her were still worth it. So far, she had no clue. But, she had confidence.
And sometimes, that's all you need.
~To be continued
Author's Note: So, it's been like, OVER A FREAKING YEAR since I updated this. I lost where I was going with it, and the idea faded away. But, something happened recently, maybe I got into new music, or maybe seeing Demi break down in the public eye was so moving that it inspired me. I really don't know. But I want to finish this, I do, because I feel... relief, every time I write a chapter. It feels good, to draw upon feelings and mental images and put them into words. I relate to these characters (note that I'm not referring to the actual people, because I don't know them), and it's therapeutic I think, to write with them. Anyway, those are my thoughts. I still remain inexplicably busy these days, but I hope to finish in less than A WHOLE 'NOTHER YEAR.
Thank you for reading.
Fandom: Disney RPF
Pairing: Demi/Selena
Rating: T
Words: 3900~
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, borrowing real people's personas based on my personal perceptions of them. Not intended for profit or offense.
Summary A busy summer in 2009 has passed for both Demi and Selena with neither yet coming to terms with their new relationship to each other; are they still friends?
Part One, please
Part Two, please
Part Three, please
Part Four, please
Part Five, please
Anymore, I don't know who to trust anymore, I don't know what I want anymore, anymore.
Song: MuteMath - Clipping / Read the Lyrics
Common sense failed again,
Meddling in a foreign scene, foreign dream.
Time won’t spare another sun,
Daring me with another choice,
Another choice.
Sweat pants. Demi wears them everyday now that she's back home, finished with her extensive summer tour and sophomore album promotions. After those long days of busying around L.A., she sheds her fashionable layers as she walks from front door to bedroom threshold, choosing always to don the same pair of black sweatpants with the big white logo down the leg. And although her mom will scold her when she finds the trail of clothing throughout the house that has yet to be picked up, Demi's always on time with laundry duty, so she gets away with little more than a wagged finger. This, and perhaps the extended hours she now spends in her room with the door closed, are the only indication that something may be off with her. But no one takes too much mind; her guitar can usually be heard through the door anyway, so her family opts to leave her a creative space.
Behind closed doors, however, there is a different scene. At least ten times every night, Demi prepares a text message to Selena. A different one every time, a change in tone, a different smiley face, or none at all. And each time, she snaps shut her phone before the draft is finished. She also hates that she feels clingy, without an actual physical person to be clingy to.
Demi had asked to see Selena again once she got back from filming in Canada. Selena had said yes. But the weeks, the months have passed and neither girl has made a move. She was way too busy during those summer months in between to feel so discombobulated by Selena's absence in her life, but being back in L.A. is making it all too clear for her. Demi feels rushed, while time moves by inexorably slow. Soon she'll have to leave for Canada for Camp Rock 2 filming, and she's already started learning the songs and dances with her cast mates in Boot Camp in LA. They'll be in the same boat as before, scheduling making it impossible to see each other.
In the meantime, Demi sings her songs and moves her body and laughs and jokes and twitters, while the back of her mind is still waiting on a call that might not come.
Right now, in her bedroom at nine minutes past eleven on a slightly windy night, Demi is rolling up her sweat pants higher on her leg, her fingers touching the lightly indented and pink markings just above her ankles from the elastic of the pants. The wind from outside her window is shaking the trees like a brush broom through carpet, bringing the cool of the approaching Fall.. She's got old Spanish love & lost songs playing on her stereo, a mix she got from her step father a few winters ago. Most songs include a dusty guitar and even dustier vocals, but even though Demi doesn't know much Spanish, she hears the story through the tone, and sometimes her fingers twitch to the notes she likes.
Demi moves to the floor and stretches her legs in a wide split, leaning forward to reach as far as she can on the carpet in front of her. Her calves and quads are throbbing from intense rehearsal for "Can't Back Down." So is her back, for that matter. 'Too much booty poppin',' Alyson likes to tell her.
The song drifting out of her stereo changes to one of her favorites. She feels emotional when she listens to this song. Again, she can't quite understand the words, but she feels a sorrowful seduction in the rising melody and harmonizing vocals. She can feel each finger pick on the strings within her stomach; it's so deep and engulfing. Reaching to her left leg, her hands strain to reach behind her foot, keeping her leg as straight as possible. She slows her breathing and closes her eyes, feeling the stretch relax her whole body, as the song and the feelings it evokes in her wash over.
Her mind's eye sees flashes of red and brown and orange, like a desert sunset, like a dancing woman, twirling the dust around her feet with the trail of her long red skirt. The dust rising around her hips is pushed and pulled with the sway of her body, a seductive swoop and swirl of cloth and flesh beneath. Arms lifting to the evening sky, hands circling around wrist joints and fingers curving delicately, as if cupping so many precious flowers floating in the air. Demi moves to her right lazily as her mind's eye sweeps up and down the dancing girl in her head. Dark as night hair shining bright in the evening falls in locks down her back, bouncing with movement and life and sensuality. Demi wants to dance with her, feels her heart pick up the beat of the guitar and her fingers restlessly grasp for a touch of hair, dress, skin. Her body fits perfectly with this bella nina, as if they've danced before, touched before. The seduction is taking over, unspoken but felt, and as the melody crashes in waves of greater intensity, a sense of forbidden-ness, of risk, fills the air. Putting her lips to the bailarina's neck, Demi can feel those locks of soft hair caress her forehead and cheeks, a feeling reminiscent of her forlorn love; she's definitely felt this before. Like satin across skin, the feeling is enticing and Demi wants more. But as feelings escalate, and Demi's flesh burns, the song strengthens it's tone of sadness, but Demi keeps dancing and touching and kissing and moving; regret and loss are heard in the lower notes, and the seductive tones begin to flicker like a candle flame, burning brightly for an instant before receding, and all that Demi sees now is color, red, orange, flames, desire, bed sheets, sparks, golden hair, golden highlights, tan skin, bright, bright, bright eyes in darkness, a striking grey blue and suddenly, it's Miley, in front of her, on top of her, moving with her, whispering to her - !
Demi's heart constricts in the most painful manner and jolts her from her dreamscape, her body lurching up on her knees and falling forward, to leave her crumpled face first on the carpet, breathing raggedly and with fresh tears burning her eyes. The song is dissipating in the background, a single note being plucked ever slower, until it fades to nothingness.
Demi feels betrayed by her subconscious, hurt in an intimately painful way, in a way she fears desperately. How could she? How could she still feel like this? How would she be able to prove to Selena, to herself, that she is truly sorry for her mistake, when she can't shake the feeling of Miley's body against hers, when she can't forget the sound of their softly racing hearts in their throats? She tells herself that Miley is just a friend, she feels like it's the truth, but how can she be sure? How can she be sure she won't fall into step with that seductive chorus again?
From the floor, Demi watches her hand ball up into a fist, gripping the carpet as hard as she can until her knuckles turn white with strain, her face contorts in anger, and she wishes someone would punish her for being such a useless sorry excuse for human being. If she could bleed out all the bad within her, if she could vomit up all that disgusts her about herself... she would.
She would.
~~//~~
The purple and blue and red and green of the Christmas lights in the studio cast sparkles of color on Selena's lyric sheets and skin, glittering on her bracelets and in her eyes. She taps her fingers on the stand in front of her, waiting to hear the "ok" from the sound technician. She's in the studio working on her "sound," and running over some changes for "Falling Down". The summer has been nothing but hours in the studio, writing, recording and fine-tuning her debut onto the music scene. She's still learning the ropes of being in a band, but she's also being guided by some of the preeminent names in the business these days. At least, that's what her rep tells her and her mom. Selena admits she knows close to jack squat about the "music biz," and is more than happy to release the reigns to the corporation that's guided and mapped her career since the beginning. With her first single release date looming ever closer, and her album drop coming just behind it, Selena's more than a little nervous. She's lost count of the times her mind has run through scenarios of her completely flopping, and worse than even making a fool of herself, she fears losing touch with some of her fans, which is what this whole band thing is pretty much about. Selena likes to sing, and she'd like to share that with the kids that enjoy her work, but if they don't appreciate it, then she'd be much happier (and her ego much safer) if she just stuck with singing in the car and shower.
Sometimes during her vocal lessons, she remembers tips that Demi used to give her, things she'd learn about on her freshman concert tours and learning to sing while dancing in Camp Rock. She remembers with particular detail the afternoon when Demi taught her about the diaphragm. The muscle stretching beneath the lungs held tremendous hidden power, she learned. Feeling her skin burn beneath her tank top where Demi's fingers were poking hard just below her chest, Selena expanded her lungs with a deep breath and held it in, pushing against Demi's hand and looking into her eyes for approval. Demi's eyes were twinkling, Selena remembers them clearly. She remembers too, feeling slightly light-headed after the exercise, but surprised herself with the length that she could hold a note, and from there, Demi taught her to inflect tone in her voice with that same strong breath. It's easier now to breath and sing with that same technique, but her skin memory still sometimes pulses with the feeling of Demi's hands on her; she pushes through it when she focuses on her work.
And sometimes Selena wants to call Demi and relate her experiences about music production to her, she wants to hear Demi's reaction, hear that Demi is proud of her, but at the same time, she doesn't want her approval, she doesn't want to feel like she's doing this for her. After their talk at the yogurt shop a few months ago, Selena's supposed that although she and Demi are not on the same level as before, they're still somewhat friends... but it's awkward. They haven't even talked in person since then, and the most that's been exchanged are a few sparse conversations on twitter. Selena still feels like texting is too intimate, seeing as it was such a pivotal form of communication between them when they were still together, and before then even. And phone calls have been easily avoided because of the excuse of busy schedules.
Selena's only respite are the rare instances of alone time with her mother, where she's free in the knowledge that her mother still loves her even after her "secret lesbian love affair." But even then it's not quite enough, because Mandy's break-up rule-of-thumb has always been to smack talk about her exes - she doesn't do that with Demi though, and Selena thinks maybe it's because she knows her daughter is still dealing with her feelings. That no matter what Selena would like to think, Demi is still very much a part of her heart. And her mother can see it. Ten years of love and friendship can't be put away that easily.
Selena doesn't know who to fight anymore; the girl who broke her heart, or the heart that still wants the girl.
As she hears a throat clearing sound in her headset, Selena looks up to see the sound booth is ready to go, and everyone is waiting on just her now. Selena smiles sheepishly and gives a thumbs up. She clears her mind of all she was just contemplating - her "sound" is about upbeat joy and loving yourself; no more self pity and broken hearts for the next 2 hours while she's recording. She's a professional.
~~//~~
Miley looks over to the passenger's seat, taking in a slumped-shouldered Demi running her fingers along the handles of her purse, her face downturned and her dark sunglasses reflecting only the city streetlights as they pass the window in a blur. Miley's reminded of the feeling of Demi's equally dejected vibe through the phone a few days earlier:
"I need to talk to you. I need to talk to you about what happened," Demi rattled off as if she'd been holding her breath until she heard Miley pick up the line.
Miley didn't need any more explanation than that. "I'm getting ready to go on tour again, but I can pick you up for dinner on Friday after my production meeting. We'll go someplace quiet, and we can talk about whatever ya wanna to talk about."
"... Thank you." Demi whispered, the strength in her body physically leaving her mouth and falling into Miley's lap through the earpiece. Miley feels her heart burst with empathy for her friend.
"I love you, honey, remember that."
"... I'm so confused..."
Miley focuses her attention back to the road as she makes her way out of the city, to a restaurant several miles from the hub of paparazzi streets that crowd the city limits. She didn't get much more out of Demi from that phone call, but she's certain beyond a doubt this has something to do with Selena, and by default, something to do what happened in London.
Miley tries valiantly throughout the evening to bring a smile to Demi's face, but she knows she won't get a genuine reaction out of Demi until she's spilled whatever is burning in her chest onto the white linen-covered dinner table between them. As the waitress leaves from bringing them their after-dinner coffee, Miley calmly spoons sugar into her cup and says, "I think now's a good time, if you wanna get rollin' with your dramas, babygirl."
Demi looks up from spinning her spoon in her now creamed coffee, "Are you sure this place is legit? We're outside, and the street is right there." Her eyes dart nervously past the fencing of the restaurant’s outdoor seating area to the street beyond, peering into parked cars for hints of a camera flash or video recorder red light.
"Chillax already, it checks out. It's off the beaten path and being outside actually has more ambient noise to drown out recordings. Y'all know this, I taught ya, remember?"
Demi purses her lips and nods, remembering such tidbits of information that Miley has gifted her with over these recent media-intensive years. It's times like these when Miley seems so much older than her perky 17 years; it's something that always attracted Demi to her.
Demi picks up her cup to sip, but second guesses the decision as the hot steam assaulting her lips informs that the liquid is still too hot. She knits her eyebrows for a second, and settles for cradling her cup on the table in front of her with both hands, her eyes as swirling brown as her coffee. Miley waits patiently for Demi to find her words.
"... I am... crazy confused about hella shit right now." Miley lets her lips curl at Demi's Californication, but nods for her to continue. "Something's happened between us, London happened, and its changed the way I ... think about things. Some things. Sometimes." Demi looks away from the table to the street, then lets her head fall back to gaze at the overhanging lights and garden vines crawling over the canopy of the outside seating area. Her eyes sparkle with wetness in the dancing lights for a moment, before she blinks and brings her gaze back to Miley.
"I don't know what I want anymore. Well, I mean, I know what I want... but I don't know if I'm strong enough... or good enough - "
"What do you mean? 'Not good enough?' "
Demi sighs and lifts her shoulders in a defensive gesture, saying, "I - I think - I'm still attracted to you. I know I am, I think you're gorgeous and you have soft hair and perfect skin and sometimes I feel like I'm betraying - myself - just by thinking that about you."
Miley gets contemplative, and sips a long and slow sip from her cup before looking back into Demi's nervous eyes. "I'm trying to choose my words carefully here, Dems... I know that you know that there's a difference between love and lust, and even though those things go together really well, there's a missing connection that's... well, it's just missing in some cases. And thinking that I'm a hot piece of ass doesn't mean that you're betraying your feelings for Selena. D'ya see what I'm saying?"
"It's not just that I think you're hot Miley, it's that... we did something together that's... it's made me question things, about myself, and I'm just ... I'm like, afraid. I don't feel in control."
Miley bites her lip and reaches out for Demi to hold her hand. Demi hesitates for a moment, but lets her hand fall into Miley's grip, and listens. "There's something that I've learned, that I think you need to realize. We, humans, are social creatures. We're sexual creatures. Excuse the metaphor, but when it comes down to it, we're animals basically - "
"Whoa, now that's -"
Miley interrupts Demi's rebuttal quickly, "I'm not saying 'We're all just thinking about sex so that makes it ok to just do it,' of course not; but what I'm saying is that, it's not right for us to punish ourselves for feeling. It's not as wrong as what a lot of people say it is."
Demi takes her hand back and shakes her head, "It is wrong, it was wrong. We sinned. And I hurt Selena. And now I'm nothing to her."
Miley doesn't like where Demi's thought processes are taking her. She hits her palm on the table in as restrained a manner as she can muster and almost wags her finger at Demi. She disapproves of self-deprecation intensely. But she knows that's not going to break through to Demi, so she takes another deep breathe and prepares her next words.
"Demi... It was wrong for me to continue in that way with you, when I knew you and Selena had something special. It was wrong that we shared in something that you and your girlfriend, the one you love, had yet to experience. But I'm telling you, and you have to believe me, you ain't messed up now. You ain't walking around with a big scarlet letter on your chest, and you are definitely not worth any less now than you were before London... So stop acting like you are."
Demi looks back into Miley's eyes from under her bangs, her eyebrows low but quirked to show she's hearing what's being said. Miley continues. "Virginity is... it's a state of being, you know? Having it doesn't make you any better than anyone else, and not having it doesn't make you any worse. It's just, a different time in your life. A new experience you go through."
"You know everything you're saying is kinda going in the opposite direction of what we were taught as little Christian girls right?" Demi asks with a sarcastic deadpan. Miley just shrugs her shoulders and says with her hands up, "I ain't sayin' nothin that would jeopardize our sacred grace or what not; I just don't want you to think that you've up an' gone given away this all-powerful gift that has made you less of a woman. That's not how love works. You're still as whole and perfect as ever."
"Perfect is a bit of stretch, there - "
"Shut your face, you're perfect and that's final." Miley shares a genuine smile with Demi, beaming when Demi returns the sincerity.
"I love you, Honey, and you're sexy as all hell. But it's not me you're pining for, it ain't me you're in love with. And I know something that you maybe have forgotten."
"What's that?"
"You deserve to be with Selena. Your love with her isn't over. In fact, I'm quite positive that you're simply incapable of loving anyone else but Selena." Demi's eyes close at the sound of her name. Miley continues, "I know it's been tough because you haven't seen her, but from all that you've told me, I know there's more to it than this."
Demi sniffs once before she replies," It's just that, I can't be sure of anything anymore, I don't know who to trust anymore. She used to be, like, my rock..."
The table drifts into silence for a moment as Demi struggles to calm her suddenly tight breathing, Miley reaches out to massage Demi's hand on the table. Miley's voice drops to just above a whisper, hoping her words would soothe her friend, "Ya know how they say there's a three day hump with exercise plans? And a three week hump for new diets?"
Demi scoffs and swipes a finger beneath her left eye to catch a straying tear, "What the hell Cyrus, this your way of sayin' I need to lose a few?"
"No no, lemme finish!" Miley laughs, slapping Demi's hand. "Ahem, as I was saying, the hump is the hard part, and once you get over it, things get easier. I've learned from my extensive knowledge on all things dating and heartbreak (Demi smiles slightly), that there's a Three Month Hump for broken hearts. Going through a break up really freakin' sucks, but it gets better. But what I think you need to do, is attack this problem head on. You've had enough time apart to get your head straight, and after our little talk tonight, I expect you to be one hundred percent in control of your feelings, kay? I don't even compare to Selena, and you are gonna show her that, yea?"
Demi looks down at the table, but when Miley slaps the table again, she nods, and her smile shows a confidence that had been missing recently.
"Tell me that you are 100 percent, Lovato."
"I'm 100 percent, Cyrus."
"And tell me what you're gonna do, superstar."
"I'm gonna show my girlfriend that this love is forever, and I ain't goin' nowhere. She's it for me." Demi snaps her fingers to emphasize her point.
"There ya go! There's that dominating chick I'm so proud to call my Nighthawk!"
"You're Nighthawk, Miles. I'm Dragon. We talked about this," Demi reminds her in an exasperated tone.
Miley recovers quickly, "Whatever! You're my wingman, and I've got full confidence in you. You and Selena are gonna work shit out, I'm sure of it.
"Hundred percent?" Demi asks, tilting her head to the side and reaching for her now slightly lukewarm coffee.
"Hundred percent." The girls share a smile and a sip of coffee, relaxing back into their chairs.
~~//~~
Dropping Demi off at home later that night, the girls made plans to speak with Selena. It was agreed that Demi needed to talk to her before she had to leave the country for filming. With Miley deciding she needed to confront Selena too, they set a date during a break in their schedules to approach her. All Demi could think about for those next few days was how she was going to convince Selena that all the feelings she still had for her were still worth it. So far, she had no clue. But, she had confidence.
And sometimes, that's all you need.
~To be continued
Author's Note: So, it's been like, OVER A FREAKING YEAR since I updated this. I lost where I was going with it, and the idea faded away. But, something happened recently, maybe I got into new music, or maybe seeing Demi break down in the public eye was so moving that it inspired me. I really don't know. But I want to finish this, I do, because I feel... relief, every time I write a chapter. It feels good, to draw upon feelings and mental images and put them into words. I relate to these characters (note that I'm not referring to the actual people, because I don't know them), and it's therapeutic I think, to write with them. Anyway, those are my thoughts. I still remain inexplicably busy these days, but I hope to finish in less than A WHOLE 'NOTHER YEAR.
Thank you for reading.