you've got a hole in you the size of the moon 3
AU Demi/Selena I've got going about Selena being a foster kid and the Lovatos taking her in. Not exactly the most upbeat thing in the world. I am trying to write more of Kristen and Selena, but I'm having trouble with the next chapter. I think I will have some free time on saturday to work on it.
Demi
With one final roll of the eye at her mother and a quick borderline hostile glare at the fat social worker too enamored with her enormous house to notice, Demi began to trudge up the steps. When it became apparent the girl was not following her Demi found herself hesitating on the second step. Her hand clutched the handrail as she fought back the urge to let out a snide remark, certain that her mother would not appreciate it.
Who in the hell did this girl think she was? Demi fucking Lovato didn’t escort people to her guest room every god damn day. People would literally kill to be in this girl’s shoes right now. She looked like a fucking idiot, standing still on her own steps waiting for some stupid idiot to move her feet. And then there was that damn social worker watching the whole thing. She was probably salivating at the prospect of telling everyone she knew that she saw the famous supposedly tough and cool rockstar obeying her mom's command like a dog. Shit when her friends found out, all the hard work she had done to prove she wasn't just a wind up Disney toy would be for nothing.
Thankfully before her ire could overrun what little self-control she possessed, the girl sighed quietly and began to follow.
Head down and shoulders bent, clutching desperately to that beaten up red suitcase, this stranger who would be living in her house managed to look even more pathetic than when she stepped out from behind that fat woman.
Demi couldn’t help but smirk as she watched the girl walk towards the steps, taking in her mismatched and ill-fitting attire. It was like the bargain bin from the most disgusting Walmart in West Virginia threw up all over her. In the confusion at the door somehow Demi had missed the few sizes too big light blue denim jeans that inexplicably still seemed too short despite their excessive size, pale pink long sleeve shirt with some silly cartoon character on the front, and the dingy white sneakers the girl had on. It was all so bizarre and ridiculous looking to the teen so used to the latest trends.
The smirk faded almost as soon as it appeared. Whatever humor Demi had found at the expense of the girl’s second hand clothes was no match for the bursts of mottled blood below the surface of the pale skin that her cheap clothing were not able to hide.
Demi’s stomach turned and suddenly the stairs were more exciting than they had ever been. All her previous mean spirited thoughts kept rattling in her ear, only muting when she bit the inside of her cheek harshly.
Not a word was exchanged between the two as Demi navigated the long hallway, leading the girl to what would become her room. Hopefully her mother or Eddie would give the girl a proper tour because Demi was doing a terrible job of it. When she first heard Eddie’s niece would be living with them she knew it would be awkward, but she never would have guessed it would be this bad.
She wanted to say something. That would be the right thing to do, to say something that made the girl feel more welcomed. The only problem was Demi could not for the life of her think of anything. The silence was too damn loud though. She could hear every scuffle and nervous breath, every stumbling step. She should say something. She had to say something.
“Uh, your room’s up here.”
Out of the corner of her eye she caught Selena jump a little at her words. The weird unpleasant sinking of her stomach flared up again when Selena raised her head to see where she would be living. Demi couldn’t look at her, not when all she could see were the cuts and bruises.
This was going to make things uncomfortable until Demi finally left to tour.
When she returned home in a month or so and hopefully all the marks faded completely maybe she wouldn’t get sick at the mere sight of the girl’s face. Because that had to be the problem. She just couldn't deal with the bruises. It had nothing to do with the way the girl was trembling or refusing to look her in the eye. It didn't. And anyway Demi was certain by the time she got home all that would be fixed. By then a normal well adjusted teenager would be occupying the room. Because once the bruises faded then so would the rest, right?
The little voice in the back of her head, the one that said this girl wouldn't be okay, definitely not in a month, probably not for years, was easily pushed aside. Demi was getting really good at not listening to the things she didn't want to hear.
Until whenever the bruises and everything else went away though, she was going to try her hardest to avoid her step cousin. That’s how Demi usually dealt with things that made her feel things she couldn't handle, like when Dallas would try to bring up their birth father or when one of her Disney approved former friends would catch her eye and frown in disappointment. It normally almost always worked.
She knew it sounded terrible and that it wasn’t the girl’s fault. If she were a better person she would be trying to make her feel comfortable. She would make the effort to become this girl’s friend and maybe they’d sit up late one night while watching movies and eating snacks talking about everything they could think of. Maybe then Demi would accidentally bring up Selena's old wounds and Selena would get all quiet and look away before finally spilling why she had to spend a week in the hospital. Then of course Demi would give her a hug and pass her a bowl full of ice-cream and then they'd continue on as though the topic had never come up because Demi couldn't stand to see the tears that would pool in the warm brown eyes of the girl. Selena would smile gratefully and let Demi rattle on because the weight on her chest lightened a little with the knowledge the rockstar knew her well enough to know she didn't want to think about whatever happened ever again.
But she didn’t want to be that person.
If she were a good person then she’d have to be around the girl and keep feeling nauseous and have her skin crawl with pity. It wasn’t the girl’s fault, but Demi felt like it wasn’t her's either. She hadn’t done whatever had broken the girl. Why should she have to suffer the uncomfortable emotions looking at her seemed to cause?
Having eradicated any mixed feelings on her plan of avoidance, Demi flung open the door and gestured inside all while keeping her eyes trained on the bed inside.
Selena paused outside the door, uncertain what to do. Demi didn’t seem to care though, having already started to walk away leaving her alone in the large unfamiliar hallway.
“Thank you.”
The girl’s softly whispered words caused Demi’s step to falter. Against her will her body turned to face the stranger standing in her hallway. Never in her life had she seen someone appear so small and lost. Reminding herself of her plan, quickly she averted her eyes to the wall behind Selena.
“No problem.”
Without another glance back Demi darted back down the stairs and out the door, ignoring her mother as she asked where she was going. She had no idea where she was going just where she needed to not be.
Demi
With one final roll of the eye at her mother and a quick borderline hostile glare at the fat social worker too enamored with her enormous house to notice, Demi began to trudge up the steps. When it became apparent the girl was not following her Demi found herself hesitating on the second step. Her hand clutched the handrail as she fought back the urge to let out a snide remark, certain that her mother would not appreciate it.
Who in the hell did this girl think she was? Demi fucking Lovato didn’t escort people to her guest room every god damn day. People would literally kill to be in this girl’s shoes right now. She looked like a fucking idiot, standing still on her own steps waiting for some stupid idiot to move her feet. And then there was that damn social worker watching the whole thing. She was probably salivating at the prospect of telling everyone she knew that she saw the famous supposedly tough and cool rockstar obeying her mom's command like a dog. Shit when her friends found out, all the hard work she had done to prove she wasn't just a wind up Disney toy would be for nothing.
Thankfully before her ire could overrun what little self-control she possessed, the girl sighed quietly and began to follow.
Head down and shoulders bent, clutching desperately to that beaten up red suitcase, this stranger who would be living in her house managed to look even more pathetic than when she stepped out from behind that fat woman.
Demi couldn’t help but smirk as she watched the girl walk towards the steps, taking in her mismatched and ill-fitting attire. It was like the bargain bin from the most disgusting Walmart in West Virginia threw up all over her. In the confusion at the door somehow Demi had missed the few sizes too big light blue denim jeans that inexplicably still seemed too short despite their excessive size, pale pink long sleeve shirt with some silly cartoon character on the front, and the dingy white sneakers the girl had on. It was all so bizarre and ridiculous looking to the teen so used to the latest trends.
The smirk faded almost as soon as it appeared. Whatever humor Demi had found at the expense of the girl’s second hand clothes was no match for the bursts of mottled blood below the surface of the pale skin that her cheap clothing were not able to hide.
Demi’s stomach turned and suddenly the stairs were more exciting than they had ever been. All her previous mean spirited thoughts kept rattling in her ear, only muting when she bit the inside of her cheek harshly.
Not a word was exchanged between the two as Demi navigated the long hallway, leading the girl to what would become her room. Hopefully her mother or Eddie would give the girl a proper tour because Demi was doing a terrible job of it. When she first heard Eddie’s niece would be living with them she knew it would be awkward, but she never would have guessed it would be this bad.
She wanted to say something. That would be the right thing to do, to say something that made the girl feel more welcomed. The only problem was Demi could not for the life of her think of anything. The silence was too damn loud though. She could hear every scuffle and nervous breath, every stumbling step. She should say something. She had to say something.
“Uh, your room’s up here.”
Out of the corner of her eye she caught Selena jump a little at her words. The weird unpleasant sinking of her stomach flared up again when Selena raised her head to see where she would be living. Demi couldn’t look at her, not when all she could see were the cuts and bruises.
This was going to make things uncomfortable until Demi finally left to tour.
When she returned home in a month or so and hopefully all the marks faded completely maybe she wouldn’t get sick at the mere sight of the girl’s face. Because that had to be the problem. She just couldn't deal with the bruises. It had nothing to do with the way the girl was trembling or refusing to look her in the eye. It didn't. And anyway Demi was certain by the time she got home all that would be fixed. By then a normal well adjusted teenager would be occupying the room. Because once the bruises faded then so would the rest, right?
The little voice in the back of her head, the one that said this girl wouldn't be okay, definitely not in a month, probably not for years, was easily pushed aside. Demi was getting really good at not listening to the things she didn't want to hear.
Until whenever the bruises and everything else went away though, she was going to try her hardest to avoid her step cousin. That’s how Demi usually dealt with things that made her feel things she couldn't handle, like when Dallas would try to bring up their birth father or when one of her Disney approved former friends would catch her eye and frown in disappointment. It normally almost always worked.
She knew it sounded terrible and that it wasn’t the girl’s fault. If she were a better person she would be trying to make her feel comfortable. She would make the effort to become this girl’s friend and maybe they’d sit up late one night while watching movies and eating snacks talking about everything they could think of. Maybe then Demi would accidentally bring up Selena's old wounds and Selena would get all quiet and look away before finally spilling why she had to spend a week in the hospital. Then of course Demi would give her a hug and pass her a bowl full of ice-cream and then they'd continue on as though the topic had never come up because Demi couldn't stand to see the tears that would pool in the warm brown eyes of the girl. Selena would smile gratefully and let Demi rattle on because the weight on her chest lightened a little with the knowledge the rockstar knew her well enough to know she didn't want to think about whatever happened ever again.
But she didn’t want to be that person.
If she were a good person then she’d have to be around the girl and keep feeling nauseous and have her skin crawl with pity. It wasn’t the girl’s fault, but Demi felt like it wasn’t her's either. She hadn’t done whatever had broken the girl. Why should she have to suffer the uncomfortable emotions looking at her seemed to cause?
Having eradicated any mixed feelings on her plan of avoidance, Demi flung open the door and gestured inside all while keeping her eyes trained on the bed inside.
Selena paused outside the door, uncertain what to do. Demi didn’t seem to care though, having already started to walk away leaving her alone in the large unfamiliar hallway.
“Thank you.”
The girl’s softly whispered words caused Demi’s step to falter. Against her will her body turned to face the stranger standing in her hallway. Never in her life had she seen someone appear so small and lost. Reminding herself of her plan, quickly she averted her eyes to the wall behind Selena.
“No problem.”
Without another glance back Demi darted back down the stairs and out the door, ignoring her mother as she asked where she was going. She had no idea where she was going just where she needed to not be.