[Fic: RPF] Come Close, Listen to the Story (5/5)
Title/Chapter: To Be Loved, What More Could You Ask For?
Pairing: Demi Lovato/Selena Gomez
POV: Selena, then Miley
Rating/Word Count: PG-13/10,394
Disclaimer/Warning: I do not own either Taylor Swift, Miley Cyrus, Demi Lovato, or Selena Gomez, and none of the portrayed events should be taken as fact. They are fiction and never actually happened. No matter how much I wish they did. Other disclaimers are at my journal. This is a RPF femslash story, meaning about real people and two girls in a romantic relationship context. If either or both of those things bother you, this is not the story for you. Rating for language and mentions of self-harm.
A/N: This is a reposting from my journal, where this was originally posted and from where I'm transferring all my fic. If we are friends, then you can still read it here. Please be honest about what you think, good or bad. Also, there's some references to Nick/Miley also (yes, I went there), so if that's not your thing, I'm sorry. *runs away from the mob of angry villagers* The song in this chapter is "When A Heart Breaks" by Dave Barnes (because as some of you are aware, I'm a huge Dave Barnes fangirl). There are some grammatical mistakes, but usually to emphasize dialogue, particularly with Miley. The story title is from the first lyric of "True Love" by Phil Wickham, and chapter titles are from "About A Girl" by The Academy Is. Huge thank you to arkeis for helping beta this thing, letscall_l for the inspiration to get off my ass and get it done and for helping with Miley's voice in this chapter, xcinamonx for introducing me to Picnik (where I made the story graphics), and everyone over at demi_selena for your encouragement and support.
Summary: Miley and Taylor work with Demi to pull off a surprise concert for Selena's seventeenth birthday while also trying to push Demi and Selena toward each other.
I'm Not In Love, 1/5
This Is Not My Heart, 2/5
I'm Not Gonna Waste These Words, 3/5
This Is Not Your Song, 4/5 parts one & two
You’re scared. You’ve never, ever seen Miley speechless before. Ten minutes into the car ride, and she’s still yet to say a word. She’ll look at you every minute or so, growl in frustration, and look out the window yet again. Traffic’s moving slowly tonight, everyone trying to get to the latest trendy club or something. Might as well do this now, though.
“Okay, Miles, out with it. You keep looking at me all crazy,” you finally snap, unable to bear it anymore. “Just say what you wanna say.” Her eyes snap to yours and the intensity there catches you off-guard.
“A’right, Sel, let’s say what we wanna say,” her tone borders on malicious, and her arms fold over her chest. “What’dya have to say ’bout Demi’s performance tonight?”
It’s a trap. You both know it, but you play along, for lack of a better plan. Too bad your ability to think on your feet only works when you’re in front of the cameras on set. Where’s Alex Russo when you need her? “I think she did amazing, and-” She interrupts you, hands flying in the air.
“The song, Taylor’s song! God, Sel!” Your eyes meet hers, and they’re becoming a steely grey, a sure sign of Miley’s anger and frustration.
“I haven’t seen her like that in forever,” you mumble. “I haven’t seen her in that much pain in a really long time. I honestly hoped I’d never see it again.”
“Ya know what it means, right Sel?” Miley prompts impatiently.
“Yeah, it means that she wants something I can’t give her. I can’t love her the way she deserves. All I’ll do is break her, and if she shatters one more time, there’s no way in the world that I can put her back together again. It nearly killed us both the first time.”
Miley’s face softens just a bit, but her arms remain folded across her chest (noticeably larger than the last time you really paid attention; great, like you really need the whole Cyrus clan to kill you on top of everything else). “What? Sel, that’s crazy. What’dya mean you can’t love her that way? Who’re you kidding, ’cause everyone knows you do.”
“Wait, what?!” Did the limo just lose air conditioning or is it you? What does she mean that everyone knows? “Miley, that’s just crazy.”
“Is it, Sel? ’Cause I think it’s the truest thing I’ve said all night. I thought it was just Demi at first, but then we figured out it was you too, and--”
“Wait, who’s ‘we’?” Who would she conspire with to figure that out? Who would know?
“Taylor. You tripped off her gaydar a couple days ago. She asked me about it, and here we are. Took her long enough, since she knows way more than me, but whatev.”
“I’m gonna kill that girl,” you growl as you lean your head against the window and watch the slowly passing cars. “Her and her stupid naive ideas about love.”
“Selena, look at me, please,” Miley pleads and you finally turn to face her again. “Look, I’m sorry. I care about’cha, a’right? I want you to be happy. I know ya don’t think so, but I really do love you Selena, you’re almost as much my friend as Taylor.”
You just scoff and turn away, not wanting her to see the gathering tears. You will not cry in front of Miley Cyrus. You will not let her, of all people, see you cry.
“Look, Selena, let’s settle this, ’cause I’m sick of it,” Miley snaps, and suddenly the fear is back, because now you’ve gone and pissed off Miley Cyrus, the only person in the world more frightening than you when angry. Great. You concentrate hard on making the fear disappear from your expression, and look her straight in the eyes. Shock is the only way to describe what you see. Her big puppy dog pout eyes, full of tears.
“Look, Selena, I’m sorry, ’kay? I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you hate me. I just...I just wanna be your friend so bad. I see these glimpses sometimes of the Selena that my friends can’t stop talking ’bout. I wanna be that girl’s friend, and I’ve tried nearly everythin’ I know and I just...if it’s about Nick, then I’m sorry, I just--”
“It’s not about him, okay?! It stopped being about him forever ago, Miley! I’m so sick of hearing about that boy.” You’re seething, because Miley is such a complex mix of woman and child, and she’s asking questions you can’t answer.
“Really? Then what, Selena? I don’t get it, Demi says that you’re jeal--”
“That’s it, Miley, that right there. Everybody important in my life I lose to you one way or another. Okay, not everyone,” you concede, fully aware that you’re rambling but past the point of caring, “but first it was Nick and I forgave that one because it was his fault, really, not yours. You didn’t react real great, but anyway. Then you and Taylor are all BFF in Nashville and at the Grammy’s. But then it’s like you swooped in on Demi when I left and it’s like you act like you don’t know what you’re doing, but that you really do. I’m sick of it, of you taking everyone I love away from me. I can’t help that I’m not good enough, okay? I accepted that a long time ago, just please quit shoving it in my face.”
“Dammit, why didn’t I see it before?” Miley slaps her palm to her forehead, and you see tear tracks on her cheeks. Instantly you feel two inches tall. “Of course it’s always her in the end. Stupid Miley, stupid!” She buries her face in her hands, and you see her back when you first met, when you were thirteen. She was a whirlwind of a girl, stick thin and more country than even East Texas rednecks. She always had those bright eyes and now-famous infectious smile, but one time you found her crying behind some sound equipment. You barely knew her, but wanted to make it all okay, so you asked her why. Her best friend back home had cystic fibrosis, and they didn’t think she’d make it much longer. You spent half an hour between scenes talking about best friends, and you talked about Demi, telling her stupid stories about acting games in Target to cheer her up. That was before everything got so complicated. But now, seeing her cry like this reminds you why you told Demi and Taylor you’d give it a chance with her. She needs you, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. You can’t stay angry with her, not really.
“Miles, I’m sorry,” you apologize, laying your hand lightly on her arm. “I just get so frustrated sometimes. I don’t think you did it on purpose, sometimes it just feels that way. I get all overdramatic and go off on really stupid things, and I’m sorry. You really wanted to be my friend that badly?” She nods, still not meeting your eyes.
“But why, Miley? This is me, I act this way and no one can handle it. Nick couldn’t, he wanted a girl like you, all smiley sweet and that’s just not me. Demi and Taylor are the only ones that can. Why me, when you can have anyone be your friend?”
Miley peaks through her hands and meets your eyes. “Whoa, Demi was right. I didn’t really believe it, but she was.” What? Do you need to kill all your best friends tonight?
Miley sits up and wipes her eyes with a sarcastic, humorless laugh. “She calls you her beautiful disaster. Like the Jon McLaughlin song? I didn’t really get why, I thought maybe it was an inside joke or somethin’. But now I do. Selena, what happened to that punky girl that I knew from “Hannah Montana” that wore “Power Rangers” t-shirts and Converse and didn’t give a damn what anyone said?”
You stare in open-mouthed shock, because who knew Miley could read you like that? “She just grew up, Miley. It happens. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Because that girl chased her dreams all the way to LA and brought her best friend along for the ride. She was confident even in her insecurities. I think that girl wouldn’t be so afraid to give in to what her heart really wants. Why do you think you’d break Demi?”
Miley’s much smarter than you ever gave her credit for, but she still doesn’t get it. “Because I’m not what she wants. She wants someone that can withstand everything we do for our careers, and I can’t do that, I can’t be open about who I am without destroying everything we’ve built together.” Great, now you’ve said too much.
“And who are you, exactly?” Her eyes gleam with hope, a far cry from just five minutes ago. She’s almost back to the smiley Miley the rest of the world knows.
“What are you doing with Demi, first?” You ignore her potentially life-altering question for the moment, trying to pin down her motives. “I need to know before I tell you anything.”
“Honestly, she’s like, one’a my best friends,” she whispers, a pride in her voice that still makes you slightly jealous. “I know I throw that around a lot, but it’s true. She’s fun and we have really similar personalities and she makes me laugh more th’n anyone else has in a long time. I love her, but not like that. Now, what’dya wanna say?”
“You asked me who I am,” you begin nervously, knowing you need to say this, because despite how ridiculous it sounds, this secret will kill you eventually. “I don’t know all those answers, but I miss the girl that let the world see her as she was, not as she’d rehearsed.” You take a deep breath, and do what you do best, get straight to the point.
“But I do know this, and I have even since we did 'Hannah' together...I’m bisexual, Miley, and I’m scared, because you’re the first person I’ve ever told, and I don’t know what to do because I’m in love with my best friend, I have been since I broke up with Nick, probably even before.” Your eyes are darting everywhere and you know that you’re rambling yet again, but you couldn’t stop it if you tried. You’ve held it in too long to go back now. “It goes against everything I’ve ever been taught to believe, and this ring is meaningless if I can’t marry her. I’ve prayed about it, Miley, I’ve prayed about it for years, but it just got stronger and it still won’t go away, and now I don’t think it ever will. Disney will fire us, Dianna will take her back in Texas, and oh God, I can’t do this to her, she doesn’t know how badly we’ll be eaten alive for it. I’m not worth her career and all her dreams, Miles, I’m not. I can’t believe she even wants this. I never even imagined that she’d ever feel this way, I thought it’d make everything better, but it only makes it worse.” You bury your face in your hands, unable to face her and what she might say.
“Selena,” you hear the compassionate tone, and she puts her arm around you and pulls you into her side. “Know what I think? It took me forever to even wanna try to break free from Disney, and you two are already doin’ it. You take every role imaginable, and she plays freakin’ Bamboozle and the whole damn LA alt rock underground, and I think you’re both gettin’ ready for a career and life where you c’n eventually be yourselves for all the world to see. I think you’ve been doin’ it for years without thinkin’ that’s why. Me and Tay kept a couple’a “Team Demi and Selena” t-shirts, and we’re gonna wear ’em when you’re finally free. You’ve both got these kinda dark pasts, and I know for a fact that she might not even be alive today if not for you, so don’t gimme that crap about all ya’d do is break her. If somethin’ happened and you broke up, I think you’d both be devastated, but that’s the risk we take with love, ain’t that right? And seriously, Sel? I think you got it backward. I think it’d break her if you aren’t with her. She loves you Selena, I don’t think you realize how much. She needs you, more th’n she’ll ever need me.”
You attempt to protest, but she puts her hand to your mouth, cutting you off while you both giggle slightly. “How’d you figure all this out, Miley?”
“Just...you’re like, all she talks about. I know you think she’s goin’ off and leavin’ you for all these other friends, but you’re all she talks about with ’em. It’s kinda cute, actually. She thinks you hung the moon, girl. She looks at you like Nick used’ta look at me when we first started dating. How could you not know?”
“I just...we both dreamed of this our whole lives. I’ve always wanted to act, and she’s just, well,” you fumble for the words, “she needs music. Like, to live and breathe because without it I think she might die. She’s finally at a good place, and all this will just put her through so much hell that she doesn’t deserve. She’ll lose everything, and I’m not worth everything she’ll lose. Her family, friends, everything.”
“Sel, the only everythin’ she’ll lose is you. Oh look, we’re here.” She smiles and opens the door, and you totally forgot that everyone wanted to stay at your house tonight. “Tay got your stuff earlier, so it’s all here. They’re here already, too. Just...” she trails off and hugs you fiercely. “No matter what, I’m here. You’re so beautiful, and listenin’ to all them voices tellin’ you that you’re not...it’s just another one’a Satan’s lies. You’re worthy enough, and hell, you’re her everythin’. She loves you. So...whenever you’re ready, rockstar.” With that, she ruffles your hair and steps out of the car.
You follow not far behind because they’ll know something’s up when they see Miley and not you. The door opens before you reach the handle, and out steps your mom. Normally you’d love nothing more than to talk things out, but you can’t. Not this time.
“Selena, honey, can we talk for a minute?” She stands in front of you on the porch, holding your favorite pajamas, the old Transformers t-shirt and green boxers. You nod and follow her out to the garage. “Change out here, all your friends are in there, and you’re not ready to see them yet.” You just nod numbly, not sure at all what’s happening. She knows you better than anyone, even Demi, and usually the reverse is true. Now, though, you’re really confused. Did they say something about tonight? Does she know?
“Selena, you did amazing tonight, and your talent always amazes me,” she says, pulling you into a hug once you’ve finished changing. You jerk back quickly, in total shock.
“Yo-you were there tonight?!” You screech, unable to control yourself. You quickly decide that this is the worst birthday ever before looking at her again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be there, I would’ve spent time with you, and...”
She sighs before pulling down the tailgate of Brian’s truck and sitting down on it, and you slide up with her. “I wanted you to spend your birthday with your friends. You know, the ones you never see because you’re off filming somewhere or you’re literally so tired you don’t even wanna go out. How many nights has Brian had to carry you to bed when you fell asleep on the couch?” You already know the answer: too many.
“I know Mom, but I just,” you falter for a second, unsure how to phrase what you want to say. “I would’ve made sure my friends behaved better if I’d know you were there.” Then under your breath, “I would’ve behaved better if I’d known you were there.”
“Look, Selena, I need to know why Demi was in there surrounded by all your friends and you’re out here alone. Is it because of that song? Have you talked to her yet?”
Your heart lurches in your throat as the tears well in your eyes. “No, not yet.”
“Selena, what’s going on? Do you not feel the same, that why you’re acting this way?” She can’t know. Surely not. “I think you’re in denial. You know what you need to do.”
“But Mom, it’s not that simple. This isn’t like some other fight or thing we’ve had to work through. Please, Mom, tell me what you think. Please.” You’re fighting hard not to cry now, steeling yourself for the disappointment you know is coming.
She sighs deeply, almost like she’s not sure whether to say anything or not. “Demi came over this afternoon while you were at lunch with Taylor. She looked more afraid than I’d ever remembered. She wanted to talk to me about your party, and some other things. She said she had something she needed to tell me, that I needed to know. She went on to tell me that she’s a lesbian, and that she wanted to sing you a particular song tonight, to tell you how she felt. She did good, too, I was so proud of her.”
You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Seriously? Everyone really did know before you. “Mom, what did you think about...her being a-”
“Well, I was a little surprised, but not really. Selena honey, is there anything you need to tell me?” With that, the tears begin to fall. You nod and bury your head in her shoulder. “Selena,” she whispers, kissing your forehead.
“Mom, I’m bisexual. I know it’s not right, but I can’t make it go away. I’ve prayed about it, done everything to make it go away, but it won’t, Mom. It won’t go away, and it’s only gotten stronger. I’m so sorry,” you sob, “I’m so sorry.”
“How long?” you cast a weary glance, and she clarifies. “When did you know?”
“Um...it started when I was thirteen, but I didn’t realize what it all meant until last year.”
“How long have you loved her?” She rolls her eyes at your blank, deer-in-the-headlights expression. “C’mon, Sel, you know exactly what I mean. How long have you loved Demi as more than your best friend?”
Shock radiates from you in waves before you answer, “Since we were fifteen. Right after me and Nick broke up. I knew then.” Had it really been that long ago? But sometimes you think you’ve loved her like this forever now. Maybe you have, maybe you’ve loved her like this all along, ever since that blazing hot day in Las Colinas when she looked at you across her coloring books and smiled that wide gap-toothed smile for the first time.
“Is she why y’all broke up?” Mom looks really confused, but you don’t blame her. You’re about to change her life completely.
“No, but it made me realize a few things...” you trail off before pulling away suddenly. “Mom? I’m so sorry, I know I let you down, that I’m not who you wanted me to be-”
“Stop it, Sel,” she whispers harshly into your hair. “You’re my only daughter. Us against the world, remember? How can I throw you out into it over something like that?”
“But Mom, it’s against everything you ever taught me to believe, how can you be okay with this?” It’s like she’s pushing you off a cliff, and you really don’t know which direction you’ll land in. There’s one last thing you need to do, though. You sit up and pull away from her slightly, just enough to squeeze your right arm out from between your bodies. You reach over with your left hand and remove the ring that’s been there for five years now, shedding the broken promises and bitter regrets, and place it in your mother’s hand. You don’t deserve to wear it, not when you’ve lied to yourself for the last two years. You meet her eyes, and finally she starts to cry, something she rarely does.
“Because I’ve never seen anyone more in love. You love her more than you’ll ever be able to say, and you’re right, it is against everything we believe. But Selena, you were made for each other, and I’ve known it for a long time now. I wouldn’t have chosen this for you, but life gives you so many blessings from the things you never would’ve chosen for yourself. Like this beautiful little girl that I held for the first time seventeen years ago today, who I’ve watched grow into this amazing young woman in the face of obstacles I never even imagined. You are not a disappointment, and I don’t want you thinking that, okay?” You don’t trust your voice, but just nod when she pulls you into her embrace.
“Selena,” she whispers, dropping something in your hand and closing your fingers around it. “That doesn’t belong to me, it belongs to the girl sitting out on the shore with a guitar in her lap. Not yet,” she clarifies, “but it will. Go.” With that she goes back inside, leaving you sitting on the tailgate in shock, alone for the first time tonight. After a quick prayer for courage, you slide down and slip on a pair of old flip-flops that you kicked off haphazardly near the door a few days ago, and slowly make your way out to the beach.
It doesn’t take long to find her, all you really need to do is follow the sound of the strumming guitar hiding just underneath the loudly crashing ocean tide. She’s no longer in her shimmery dress, but a hoodie and what look like some of Miley’s old cheer shorts. You get closer and realize it’s a soft, slow song that you should recognize, but don’t this far away. You stop about ten feet away and listen, hearing the catch in her voice that indicates that she’s been crying, and you finally recognize the words.
“Everybody’s laughing
Maybe that’s just me
Does something unrequited
Mean it will never be
I lean into the whisper
But I don’t hear a thing
It’s a tear in the dark
All alone in the car
In pieces, in pieces
It’s the sound of mistake
As I lie awake
Sleepless, sleepless
This is the sound that’s made
When a heart breaks”
She stops singing and you stand and listen to the soft guitar melody, never moving for fear of her hearing you. “Lena, I know you’re there. Subtle was never really your thing.” Or not so much, you think, walking over and taking a seat on the blanket beside her.
Your head finds her shoulder almost immediately despite your best efforts at self-control, and she continues to play almost like you aren’t there, except for the way she rests her head on yours. She doesn’t say anything else, she’s not used to having to pry things out of you. The tears that seem to be your constant companion tonight start again, and only when she feels them falling on her neck and the fret board does she say anything at all.
“Selena,” she whispers, sending a tangible shiver through you. She pushes the guitar off her lap and draws you fully into her arms. She just holds you in the silence, and like always, the safety of her arms makes all your walls come crashing down.
“Lena, tell me why you cry,” she whispers softly, and you just sob harder. It’s what you used to ask her as kids when she was upset, whether it was a scraped knee, jealously over a new baby sister, or bullies at school that made her feel worthless. She very rarely asked you, though, because you just didn’t cry much back then. Now, though, it’s all you ever seem to do. When you eventually gain control over yourself again, you look up into her own red-rimmed eyes and feel immediately guilty.
“I just...everything is going in so many directions all at once,” you rush out. It’s not even close to what you really want to say, but still the truth that you’ve been living with way too long. “I just,” you break eye contact and stare at the sand. “I feel lost, like I need you more than ever, and you’re pulling away from me, and I don’t know what hurts worse, losing my best friend or any chance I ever had at more, at everything I ever wanted.”
“What do you mean lose me, Selena?” Her mouth forms a slight frown and her eyebrows draw in a bit, obviously confused. “I’m right here, and I still need you. Yeah, we haven’t been able to like, spend as much time together lately, but I do.”
Suddenly anger flares inside of you, and you push yourself out of her lap and onto your feet. The loss of contact makes you dizzy, but you’re too far gone to think about it. “Oh really, Demi? You could’ve fooled me. You don’t need me anymore, you’ve got Miley and the whole freaking Cyrus family and Jac and all those band guys! I get that they’re prettier than me, and more talented and famous and all that, but really, Demi?! What happened to always and forever?” Your eyes are wide at the hurt you see in hers, the emotions she never really learned to hide, but the hurt quickly dissolves into an intensity that literally takes your breath away as she stands up and makes her way over to you.
“You really wanna know, Selena?” Her eyes flash dangerously, full of swirling emotions you can’t identify save one: anger. “It hurts too much! It hurts that you’re always half a world away and that you agree to do new movies and shit all the time without even like, talking to me about it anymore, and I stopped using iChat with you because seeing you on a screen six inches in front of me was like, a cruel joke because you’re close enough to touch but not really. I hurt, Selena, all over, and you were gone for months at a time hanging out with stupid Taylor Lautner, and I had to do something to distract me, to keep me from wanting to...never mind. I went to concerts with Jac and her friends and had so much fun, because they get me and like, no one else at Disney does. One day Miley came by on her bike, saying she’d never realized that I lived just down the street. We hung out in the front yard and literally talked for like, hours, and it just went from there.”
“But what about Trace?” Your foot taps impatiently in the sand, arms folded across your chest. You refuse to think about the implications of everything she’s said. Demi’s eyes change then, take on a deep sadness you haven’t seen since her first boyfriend dumped her then asked out the cheerleader that loved to torture her three days later.
“I hang out at Miley’s all the time when you’re gone, and she started dropping hints and teasing that her brother had a crush on me. Of course he had like, no chance, but we became friends, and he started flirting like, a lot, and I kinda led him on for a while. Longer than I should’ve. I told him the truth eventually, that he didn’t have a shot in hell, no boy did, really. I guess it just...” her voice trails off into the dark before she finally finds the words. “I guess it just felt good to like, be wanted by someone, you know?”
“But I want you!” Your self-control is finally gone, and her head snaps up to meet your eyes in shock. It changes everything and she knows it, because you’ve never used that word regarding her before, ever, not in ten years of friendship. Then suddenly, you’re on an angry, frustrated roll, with no hope of stopping anytime soon.
“I want you so much, it’s just...no actually, I don’t want you, I need you. Maybe it’s both. I just know that I can’t control it, can’t make it go away. I’ve tried everything, and I just, I don’t even know anymore. I can’t get you out of my head, the way you laugh when I call you a dork, the way you feel curled in my arms when we watch cheesy scary movies, the way I always feel safe sleeping in yours and how I wanna wake up that way my entire life, the way you say my name all goofy one minute and loving the next, the way I feel hotter than summer back home when you move onstage, the way you refuse to change for anybody but yourself, the way you love me like I’m your whole world, just like you’re my whole world. Just like I love you.” You stop abruptly, gasping from lack of air and the sheer force of a confession two years in the making.
Her eyes are wide and brimming with tears, and you’ve never been more afraid of anything in your life, because there’s no going back now. No going back to childhood games of Queen of the Castle, or listening to Paramore while reading girly magazines, or feeling each other up at the Teen Choice Awards. There’s no going back to when she was your best friend, because you’ve just ruined everything good you ever had.
“Selena? Wh-what’s that last part?” Her voice contains a desperation beyond anything you’ve seen from her in a long time, not since her torturous middle school days. But underneath it all, a flickering hope glowing behind her eyes, steadily gaining strength.
“What, that I love you so much I can’t breathe without you, that you’re perfect for me and I’m so tired of being alone?” You snap impatiently, not at all how you wanted this conversation to go. Then again, you never really thought you’d have this conversation with her at all. “That when everyone else gets bored and moves on I’ll be the one waiting here for you when it’s cold-”
The words die on your lips as Demi takes two steps forward, grabs your face in both her hands and crashes your lips with hers. Despite the rough way she pulled you in, the kiss is softer than you expected. She pulls back slightly and slides her left hand down to hold onto your hip, her right hand (guitar pick still in hand) smoothing back your short dark curls before leaning in and capturing your lips again. You moan almost instantly because this? This feels better than even your wildest dreams, and somehow you gain the courage to nibble slightly at her bottom lip to deepen the kiss, still standing in the sand, the evening tide playing its own song slowly in the background. It’s the kind of movie kiss that you’ve never admitted that you’ve always wanted, the kind of admission that Demi usually teases you mercilessly for, but right now all that matters is that she’s finally right here in front of you, kissing you like your very lives depend on it, and it’s almost enough to make the doubts and fears fade away. Almost.
You break away first, gulping for air. You don’t have her stamina, you’re not used to singing your heart out for nearly two hours every night on tour. Her hand is still in your hair, and everything comes flooding back, worse than before. “Lena...” she rasps, that high-pitched tone her voice takes on when it cracks from exhaustion.
“I’m so afraid,” you whimper slightly, and she tilts your forehead down a bit to connect with hers. “I can’t do this, I can’t start something that’ll ruin both our lives, I just can’t.”
Her eyes, those beautiful expressive dark eyes, lose some of their light, and she brushes her thumb across your bottom lip. “Why?” She asks, eyes filling with tears.
You pull back slightly, and pull her left arm from around you, already feeling the cold settle in. Her forearm stretched before you, you sweep your fingers delicately over the lines close to her wrists. The tears are streaming down her cheeks now, a look of utter shame crossing her face. Just, no, you don’t want her feeling that way. Never again.
“No, Demi,” you reassure her, wiping her tears away with your free hand. “I’d never be ashamed of you. Ever. I just can’t do this to you again. Sometimes I feel like I did this to you, like every hurtful thing I’ve ever said or every time I haven’t been there for you is another mark on your beautiful skin. What if we start something and it all falls apart? It’d kill me, and you too. Or if people found out and it wrecked our careers? I can’t live with myself if I took that away from you, and I’m not worth losing your dreams over.”
“You done yet?” Her tone is sharp, almost angry, but her eyes are dancing with a slightly mischievous light. Your Demi is finally back. You nod, and she takes the hand holding her arm and slides it behind her, resting your hand on the small of her back. She gives you a quick kiss, the kind that might become a habit someday, then rubs your noses together in an eskimo kiss like the ones from your childhood.
“You’re wrong, Lena,” she giggles, “that’s my dream, and it has been for like, forever. You’re so worth it, you’re worth everything, don’t you see that? You’re my everything, the reason I write, the reason I sing. I wouldn’t even have a career at all if not for you like, guiding me through. I love performing, it’s like, who I am, but if I had to choose between that and you, I’d give it up tomorrow. But these...” she looks down to where your hand is still tracing over the scars, “none of that’s your fault, Selena. It’s all mine. Anytime it involved you it was because I like, missed you when you were gone and everything else got too overwhelming. I didn’t know any better way to deal, but I do now. Mainly it was like, things at home, with Mom. So don’t ever think you’re not worth the pain or that you’re not enough, because you are. You always were, and honestly Lena, it hurts me more to not have you the way I want you.”
“Yeah, and how’s that?” You ask saucily, yet genuinely curious about her response.
“Sleeping in my arms, dancing along to silly songs and sexy ones, too. Sharing late night kisses in the dark, you stumbling into the kitchen one day wearing only my t-shirt.” You blush violently at the thought, and try to hide it while she continues, “Madison understanding exactly why I love you so much, seeing the warmth and sparkle in your eyes when you take care of her. Being able to replace this,” she holds your hand and twirls your James Avery purity ring, “with a diamond one. It hurts to look in your eyes and see my whole life and like, not know if you want that, too. You know what else I want?”
“What?” Your eyebrows furrow slightly, what else could she say that she hasn’t already?
“I want you to forget our families and friends, the fans, the media, what everyone expects of us, all your fears of letting everyone down, and tell me: what do you want, like, if nothing could stop you and no one would think less of you?”
“You.” The answer comes rapidly and surprisingly easily, and she leans in for another kiss, this one soft and lingering but still too short.
“Then, for once in your life Lena, give in to what you want.” It’s the same exact thing that Miley said earlier, but hearing Demi ask that of you causes a completely different reaction. Especially now that you know that your mom and Taylor don’t completely hate you for it. So you take the more dangerous path in hopes that it doesn’t blow up in your face, that somehow it’ll all end up okay. But even underneath the slowly subsiding fear and doubt, you know that it will, even if the worst does happen. Ten years, and Demi’s still right here, and you know now that despite all appearances to the contrary, she’s never left and never will. So you do what you always have: step out bravely on faith.
You dip down a bit and kiss the tip of her nose, then speak the one word that will forever change your life. “Okay.” She smiles that classic Demi smile, so wide you’re surprised it doesn’t crack her face, and she just positively glows with happiness.
“Really?” She whispers excitedly, and you nod and smile. In that moment you still see the little girl that so enraptured you at age seven, and you can’t help yourself any longer. You taste the sparks on your tongue and feel more than hear the cross between a gasp and a sigh that leaves her throat as you kiss her for only the second time in your lives. Her pouty lips feel softer than you ever dreamed, and she matches the slow and easy tempo of the kiss with just enough passion to give you the promise of a lifetime of something more. You pull away first, overwhelmed both by the thoughts racing through your mind and Demi’s sweet sugar cookie scent still lingering beneath the sand and the sweat of the night.
“Now if only you’d kissed me like that when we were younger,” she teases playfully, and your face flushes slightly before you give in to the giggles erupting from your throat.
“I was twelve, okay?! Jeez, Dem, it’s not like I was practicing kissing my pillow every night like some people.” She pushes your shoulder lightly, face now glowing red in the moonlight, and you push back harder until both of you are rolling around and wrestling in the sand. You eventually land so that she’s laying flat and you’re straddling her, pinning her arms still above her head. Your eyes meet hers, and you see the love that, looking back, was there all along, but also a wanting, threatening to overtake it behind her beautiful, soulful brown eyes.
“Baby, you know I was kidding, right? We were just kids, it was my first kiss. We didn’t know any better, or even what it meant.” She notices that your smile is fading, “what’s going through that beautifully disturbed little head of yours, Selenalenalena?”
Bittersweet tears pool in your eyes, but you shake them off, determined not to let them win again. Because she’s here, staring up at you so lovingly, giving you everything you ever wanted, showing you that you don’t always need to be alone.
You release her hands, and drag your right one down to her face, pushing her bangs back and stroking her cheek. “But I did, Demi. I think I knew.” Her eyebrows quirk upward, and she silently beckons you to continue. “You wanted to be kissed so badly, it was all I heard about. Especially after I told you about the kiss with Dylan Sprouse. Finally I got tired of it, and gave you your first real kiss. I just thought it was gonna be like acting, like with Dylan. But it wasn’t. My stomach felt all fluttery and crazy and my lips tingled and it left me breathless. I didn’t understand it. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I even knew it then, but you never talk about it, so...” You drop your hands, playing with the strings of her hoodie, as unsure of her reaction as you are of your own emotions.
She shifts underneath you, pulling herself into a seated position with you still on her lap. “See, that’s so funny, Selena. You didn’t know a kiss could be like that, but I never knew a kiss couldn’t be like that, because you ruined me forever. I couldn’t talk about it, Lena, you know why.” Her eyes search yours for a moment, and you wonder momentarily what she sees in them when she speaks again. “You can’t worry about all the ‘what-ifs’ and the ‘might’ve-beens’ because that’ll kill you. I love you, always and forever.”
“I love you too, Dem, forever and always.” You bury your face in the crook of her shoulder and neck, taking in her alluring scent. You nuzzle your face, groaning when it scratches. “Ugh, you’re covered in sand, babe,” you whine as you stand up, reaching your hand out to Demi. She takes it and stands up, brushing off as much as she can.
“Yeah, well, you’ve got it everywhere too,” she mutters while bending to grab the guitar and blanket that lay almost forgotten in the sand nearby. You begin dusting sand off your legs, but stop in your tracks when your eyes catch Demi, bent over in the sand. She stays there for a second too long before standing up gracefully, giving you a full view of her hips curving and swaying in those little bitty cheer shorts.
"Selenalenalena!” You jump at her sharp, sudden yell and look up to see Demi standing about a foot away, hands resting on her hips (one of which she’s popped for effect) with a devious smirk. Not to mention her eyes, almost black with the want that’s nearly consumed all traces of amusement.
Crap. “Um, sorry Dem, uh, you ready to g-go inside?” She looks at you and bursts out laughing, the loud, booming laughter that you fell in love with years ago. You stare down at the beach beneath your feet in shame, only to look up and meet her eyes with a nervous smile. She drapes the blanket across your shoulders and reaches out to take your hand, and together you start walking back toward your house while she sings the Shakira part of “Hips Don’t Lie.”
You roll your eyes, “sorry, Demi, I just--” She quickly cuts off the rest of your apology.
“Don’t you dare apologize, Selena Marie, it was hilarious and so cute,” she giggles, smiling way too wide at your embarrassment. “I guess it just makes me laugh to see my sweet little Selena so blatantly checking me out when I’ve done it to you more times than I can remember.”
You stop for a moment and turn to look at her, curiosity finally getting the best of you. “Really? When? Why?”
“Uh, because you’re like, gorgeous,” she replies in a “duh” tone. “The time I remember most is when I saw ‘Another Cinderella Story’. The skateboarding, the whole masquerade ball scene, and just you dancing period made me wanna die. So hot.” She grins, winking all the while, and starts walking forward again. “Come on tiny dancer,” she whispers playfully. “Let’s go inside.”
This new information shouldn’t surprise you at all, but it does. You’ve never really seen yourself that way, always feeling like one of the boys. You never thought anyone viewed you like that, let alone Demi. She’s the one person you always hoped would see you as beautiful. Your mom, Jen, and Taylor (sometimes even Miley) told you that you were all the time, but it’s never mattered more than from Demi. Speaking of Miley and Taylor...
“You think we can like, sneak in past crazy and crazier?” Demi wonders, having seen the question in your eyes. You just give her a look, and she answers her own question. “Yeah, probably not.” She laughs awkwardly, and you point out, “yeah, but they’re the reason we’re finally here.”
“Yeah,” she acknowledges softly, then keeps walking up to the back porch, stealing a quick kiss before leading you inside. There are still so many questions, and so much that you want her to know. But later, after everyone else is in bed and you’re spooned back in Demi’s arms, you know she’ll be there in the morning. For the first time in a long while, you’re looking forward to tomorrow. Seventeen is a new chapter, one that’ll start tomorrow when you wake up to her mischievous eyes, beautiful smile, and early morning kisses; and, the best part? It’s only just beginning.
========================================
“Miley, put that damn thing down,” you hear Taylor sigh from the couch. You just shoot her a playfully defiant look over your shoulder and slide out the back screen door, camera in hand. Your inner photographer is screaming to get some shots of the beach at night, particularly a certain young couple on the beach at night.
“Just keep workin’ on that video blog thang of yours, Swift. I got this,” you laugh. Taylor’s such a crazy girl sometimes. In an innocent way, of course. Only she would talk Demi into singing a song like a confession. You all do it, obviously, but Taylor’s got a courage like none other to actually put the names in her songs. Hell, you couldn’t even do it in your book. The loud song jars you for a moment, piercing the silence of the night. “If we chase the stars to lose our shadows, Peter Pan and Wendy turned out fine, so won’t you fly with me?” Speaking of...
“Hey, how was New York?” You answer immediately, not wanting to miss his call. You haven’t talked in days, and it’s slowly starting to take its toll.
“It was awwwesome, Miles,” he yawns, only making you miss him more. “We played three sold-out shows and I swear the sound and the show gets better every night.”
“That’s so cool, I’m glad the songs are going over so well. Joe hasn’t fallen off the revolving stages yet, has he?” That boy’s bound to hurt himself one of these days. Yet people still wonder where his DJ Danger nickname came from. Yeah, okay.
“No Mile,” he laughs, voice cracking under the strain of three shows at one venue in three days. “Who do you think he is, Demi?”
“Nicholas Jerry Jonas,” you start in, barely able to suppress your giggles. “That’s a horrible way’a talkin’ ’bout the girl you call your sister.”
“Yeah, well, she’d probably fire back with something about the Tulsa show anyway,” he responds, “so it’s not like she’d cry over it.”
“Yeah, the Tulsa show where you almost missed the piano bench because you were too busy laughin’ your ass off at Joe singin’ ’bout Taylor?” The annoyance slowly rises in your voice, and while seeing Nick so animated on stage had warmed your heart, you still wanted to kill Joe sometimes. “Yep, that was real funny.”
“Mile,” he sighs wearily, “I know you’re standing there wherever you are with your arms folded and giving me that ‘look of doom’ but seriously?” You keep forgetting how well he knows you.
“Sorry Nicky, I love the boy to death, but sometimes when he says crap like that all I c’n think ’bout is helpin’ her pick up the pieces after his stupid phone call.” You quickly change the subject, not wanting to fight over something this stupid that you can’t change anyway. “Wait, just how’dya know about that look?”
“C’mon, you’ve had it since you were thirteen. You get it from your mom, she used to scare me to death with it. I used to record the early season one episodes and watch them on the road, and you did it in nearly every one. Where are you, anyway?”
Your heart melts at his little confession. “I’m at Selena’s. Taylor’s inside workin’ on video blogs and I was watchin’ the sunset and tide and-”
“Taking pictures?” You hear the amusement in his voice, like it always was, hopefully always will be. If he were here, you’d see it dancing in his eyes, all while running your fingers through his curly, curly hair. Your poor kids are gonna be absolutely cursed with curls. He takes your slow response as an affirmative.
“Thought so. Send one to me? You’re really at Selena’s with Taylor? What’d Swift pay Lena to agree to that?”
“Nick!” He laughs at your scandalized tone, but even you can concede when he’s right.
“Nothin’, tonight was Selena’s birthday concert thing. So much fun, but sooo exhausting. We even rode back to her house together just the two of us, so there.” You stick out your tongue for effect, even though he can’t see it.
“Wow. Guess I was wrong. Demi and Taylor didn’t ride back with you?” You can see clearly in your mind’s eye his eyebrows knitting together in adorable confusion.
“No, I needed’ta talk to Sel ’bout some stuff alone, and Taylor needed the same with Demi, so we rode back in diff’rent cars.” You bite your lip in hesitation for a moment, before going forward. You suck at keeping secrets, but this one...
“Nicky? R’member that wacked-out theory of mine we talked about at the Village Idiot back in April, right after premiere week and the ACMs?”
“Yeah, about Demi, right? Miley, I thought you promised to drop it, her sexuality shouldn’t be up for debate--”
“It’s not so wacked-out after all,” you blurt out. “I really think it’s true, Nicky.”
“Why? Did something happen at Lena’s birthday?” You secretly love when he worries over your friends. Like, he cares about your world and your life, not just you.
“Yeah, but I can’t tell ya all of it, because I dunno how it’s gonna turn out yet,” you whisper. “Besides, it ain’t my secret to tell. Demi will tell ya when she’s ready. Y’all are like freakin’ twins, anyway. It’s scary how much she reminds me’a you and how obsessive perfectionist crazy you both get.”
“Yeah, well, she reminds me of you a lot, at least, she did on tour, anyway. She’s just as spontaneous and insane as you.”
“Thanks a lot, Nicholas. Nice’ta know you love me for my sanity.”
“Destiny? The black keys are showing.” You grin and fire back, “you wouldn’t have it any other way.” All the perfect rainbows in the world, and he loves the black keys the best. Go figure. Some things about that boy you’ll never understand, but you plan to spend the rest of your life trying to figure it out.
“No, I wouldn’t,” he murmurs seriously. “Look, I gotta go Mile, I’m exhausted and I’ve still gotta do all my checks and change out my pod tonight.”
“A’right, Nicky. I miss you, so much.”
“I know, princess, I do too.” Your face breaks into a wide smile, since that nickname’s still relatively new. He asserted that, since you called him Prince Charming, that made you his princess. After arguing yourself hoarse, you finally caved when you realized you weren’t gonna win that one. But you always kinda secretly loved it anyway. “I love you, and behave, okay? I don’t want Demi texting me while she and Taylor take bets.” Man, sometimes you feel like an “I Love Lucy” rerun.
“Yes, Ricky, I’ll do my best,” you sarcastically retort, “but you never let me have any fuuunnn, waaaahhh.” He’s laughing hysterically at your best Lucille Ball, and you crack up even before you finish it completely. When he finally catches his breath, you answer, “Fine, Nick, but you’re worryin’ over nothin’. It’s totally fine, ’kay? I love you.”
“Love you too,” he yawns, exhaustion finally taking over. “Sweet dreams, princess.”
“Happy nightmares, Nicky.”
“iChat tomorrow?” He giggles, and you can tell he’s about to hit hyper-tired.
“Definitely. Night-night.” You hang up after his giggly good-night and pick up your camera, searching the dark horizon for anything beautiful, really; an old beach shack, the moon glinting off the water. The guitar left in the sand...wait, guitar?
You focus the lens in on the farthest zoom setting, and finally begin to register the details. The Gibson logo, the butterflies and hummingbirds on the pickguard. Demi’s brand-new Hummingbird that she begged and saved for, laying on a blanket out there. You get a few amazing shots of the pickguard and the frets before wondering why she left it there. You’ve got half a mind to go steal it, but then you notice the blanket the guitar sits on moving, and you track up to Demi leaning over to pick them both up out of the sand.
She throws the strap over her shoulder and begins walking, blanket in hand, closer toward the house. She only gets a few steps before stopping, though, and she stands smirking with one hand on a popped-out hip, then she’s laughing so hard she nearly falls over. You’re not into girls like her, but damn she’s hot when she stands like that, especially wearing your shorts that cover next-to-nothing. Then she drapes the blanket over the shoulders of a shame-faced Selena and laces their fingers together before walking away from the shoreline.
You walk around a bit, an idea taking shape if you can only get the right angle. Then, leaning over the railing, you find the perfect shot and seize upon the opportunity. You take several different pictures of them from behind, guitar strapped to Demi’s back and the blanket wrapped around Selena’s shoulders. Their hands are intertwined, and if they walk any closer to each other, they’ll trip over each others’ legs. Their heads lean close together, no doubt some private conversation that you’ll never hear. At one time it would’ve unsettled you, but now you’re content to let the world revolve around someone else, at least for a while. It’s such an intimate view into a moment, and you’re consistently amazed at what you can capture, the world you can create through pictures.
You notice them getting closer to the porch, so you sneak back inside and shake Taylor, gesturing for her to follow you upstairs into the guest room you’re staying in tonight. Before, you’d wanted nothing more than to catch them coming back inside, but now you don’t wanna break their quiet, shared intimacy. You still catch them coming in, since Taylor’s still packing up her MacBook and saving all her work to carry upstairs. They’re giggling quietly, still holding hands, and nothing even looks different because they’ve always been ridiculously close. But the weight of the world isn’t on Selena’s shoulders anymore, and Demi’s smile finally reaches her eyes again. Fortunately, Taylor steps in.
“Hey guys, we’re gonna go upstairs and get to bed,” Taylor tells them quietly, reminding you why she’s so much better at this than you are. “Love you both, and we’ll see you in the morning.” She reaches out to hug first Selena, then Demi, and you do the same before watching them go upstairs hand in hand. You and Taylor soon follow, and she resumes her work in the guest room while you mess around on your own new Gibson, fleshing out the song you sang in Georgia a little more. She finally gets to a stopping point and shuts it down for the night, staring at you curiously while you put away your guitar.
“What’d you say to Lena, Miley? I need to know whether to defend you tomorrow or kick your ass,” she warns playfully, pulling out her pajamas, toothbrush, and retainer case.
“Aw, I just had a mini breakdown and knocked a li’l bit’a sense into her, that’s all,” you laugh. “She just needed’ta be able to yell at somebody without feelin’ guilty, since she didn’t want you to see that side’a her again and didn’t wanna hurt Demi.”
You don’t kid yourself into believing that you’re some relationship expert. Nick was your first real relationship, and except for your relationship with Justin and a few casual dates here and there, he’s the only one you’ve ever really loved. It’ll make a great story for your kids, but not for a friend in trouble. Taylor doesn’t have much more experience than you, but she’s walked so many friends through their relationships, both here and in Nashville, that nothing really surprises her anymore. Sure, she snarks a lot and talks a big game, but in the end, she’s so sensitive to other people’s heartbreaks.
She stops her movements and looks at you quizzically, then those bright blue eyes get glassy with tears and she flashes you a watery smile. “My little Miley is growing up,” she coos, and you grin right before sticking your finger in your throat and jokingly gagging.
“Or not so much,” she deadpans while sliding off the bed and making her way toward you, all the while rolling her eyes. She reaches out her arms and pulls you in, embracing you for long seconds. You relax into her hold, enjoying the feel of this girl that’s become one of only a handful of people that you really trust. She stood by you when everyone else abandoned you, even though she was dating Joe when everything went down. It would’ve been so easy for her to leave you, too, but she never did.
You pull away to allow her to finish getting ready, and suddenly a question burns in your mind. “So what’dya tell Demi? ’Cause I’m pretty sure ya didn’t have quite the same type discussion with her that I had with Selena.” At least, she better not have.
“Well,” she smiles, that soft, dreamy smile she gets when she talks about love and dreams and fairy tales, “I just reminded her of what she already knew: that no matter how much she tries to deny the way she loves Selena, it’s in every song, if you listen close enough. I told her to listen a little closer to her heart, her songs, her story.”
Man, if only you could speak like this girl. Most of the time anything you say comes out in a spastic southern drawl at warp speed, and you’re lucky if you think through what you say half the time, or even hear it. But it’s who you are, and what she told Demi is so her, all about love and stories, and any combination of the two.
“Yep, that’s ’bout right,” you smirk, climbing into bed while she goes to take out her contacts and put in her retainer for the night. When she comes back wearing her dorktastic glasses and climbs in next to you, you reach for the camera while she just rolls her eyes.
“You know, I’m all for you pursuing this,” she sighs, “as long as you quit taking sneaky random pictures of all of us. Go take pictures of traffic or something.” When you cock your eyebrow and glare at her, she snaps goofily, “or go play in traffic, Miles. It’s up to you, really.” Finally neither of you can hold in your laughter, and when you calm down you turn on the camera and start scrolling through the pictures.
“Check’em out Taylor, I think these are keepers,” you thrust the camera into her hands and watch her reaction. She’s acting like she’s watching a Hallmark or Lifetime movie, and you can tell she’s about to cry. Again.
“Miley, these are beautiful,” she coos, “can I have a copy, maybe? They look so...you really captured how in love they are, and you’ve got a great artistic eye.”
“Thank ya, Tay,” you blush slightly. “I guess their story’ll have a happy endin', huh?”
“Well, we’ll figure it out tomorrow for sure,” Taylor smiles ruefully, “but yeah, I’d say so. Hey, you cool if I turn out the light? I’m exhausted.”
“No problem,” you yawn. “Night, Tay.” You burrow under the covers while she turns out the light. “G’night, Miley,” she slurs, a combination of the retainer and her sleepiness.
You lay there in the dark and reach to set the alarm on your Blackberry, receiving an incoming text at the same time. It’s from Selena, just down the hall: “Got this txt from Nick: ‘Happy 17th bday Selena. Hope ur party concert was fun, & here’s 17 words of wisdom 4 ur 17th bday: Listen 2 ur head, follow ur heart. If u follow ur heart, u can never go wrong.’ Great catch, don’t let him go again. Night, Miley, & thnks.”
“Never again. Luv ya, night-night.” You hit “send” and lay the Blackberry on the nightstand next to you as it fades to black, and in the dark you reflect on the last few months. So much can change in such a short time, but for the first time in a long time, it’s a good change. Yeah, Demi and Selena got their happy ending, but it’s not really an ending at all; it’s just a beginning. For them, and for all of you.
One day you’ll be a celebrity photographer (not paparazzi), touring with Nick or waiting at home for him with the kids in the house with the white picket fence in Nashville (or the house in Dallas, when you’re visiting everyone). Taylor will live close enough to have coffee together once a week, whenever she’s not busy writing and producing for the next up and coming country artist or acting as Rolling Stone’s special contributor. Demi and Selena will live at home in Dallas when they can, working around Selena’s Academy-Award nominated movie schedules and Demi’s video directing shoots, plus the occasional touring (she loves it too much to ever stop). You’ll all meet up in Dallas regularly to shop and hang out away from all the bright lights and glitter, and it’s all your dreams coming true, and you see it all so clearly, so close you can taste it. Despite the insomnia that’s plagued you for the last several months, you fall asleep with a smile, peacefully dreaming of the end of the story, of happily ever after.
Pairing: Demi Lovato/Selena Gomez
POV: Selena, then Miley
Rating/Word Count: PG-13/10,394
Disclaimer/Warning: I do not own either Taylor Swift, Miley Cyrus, Demi Lovato, or Selena Gomez, and none of the portrayed events should be taken as fact. They are fiction and never actually happened. No matter how much I wish they did. Other disclaimers are at my journal. This is a RPF femslash story, meaning about real people and two girls in a romantic relationship context. If either or both of those things bother you, this is not the story for you. Rating for language and mentions of self-harm.
A/N: This is a reposting from my journal, where this was originally posted and from where I'm transferring all my fic. If we are friends, then you can still read it here. Please be honest about what you think, good or bad. Also, there's some references to Nick/Miley also (yes, I went there), so if that's not your thing, I'm sorry. *runs away from the mob of angry villagers* The song in this chapter is "When A Heart Breaks" by Dave Barnes (because as some of you are aware, I'm a huge Dave Barnes fangirl). There are some grammatical mistakes, but usually to emphasize dialogue, particularly with Miley. The story title is from the first lyric of "True Love" by Phil Wickham, and chapter titles are from "About A Girl" by The Academy Is. Huge thank you to arkeis for helping beta this thing, letscall_l for the inspiration to get off my ass and get it done and for helping with Miley's voice in this chapter, xcinamonx for introducing me to Picnik (where I made the story graphics), and everyone over at demi_selena for your encouragement and support.
Summary: Miley and Taylor work with Demi to pull off a surprise concert for Selena's seventeenth birthday while also trying to push Demi and Selena toward each other.
I'm Not In Love, 1/5
This Is Not My Heart, 2/5
I'm Not Gonna Waste These Words, 3/5
This Is Not Your Song, 4/5 parts one & two
You’re scared. You’ve never, ever seen Miley speechless before. Ten minutes into the car ride, and she’s still yet to say a word. She’ll look at you every minute or so, growl in frustration, and look out the window yet again. Traffic’s moving slowly tonight, everyone trying to get to the latest trendy club or something. Might as well do this now, though.
“Okay, Miles, out with it. You keep looking at me all crazy,” you finally snap, unable to bear it anymore. “Just say what you wanna say.” Her eyes snap to yours and the intensity there catches you off-guard.
“A’right, Sel, let’s say what we wanna say,” her tone borders on malicious, and her arms fold over her chest. “What’dya have to say ’bout Demi’s performance tonight?”
It’s a trap. You both know it, but you play along, for lack of a better plan. Too bad your ability to think on your feet only works when you’re in front of the cameras on set. Where’s Alex Russo when you need her? “I think she did amazing, and-” She interrupts you, hands flying in the air.
“The song, Taylor’s song! God, Sel!” Your eyes meet hers, and they’re becoming a steely grey, a sure sign of Miley’s anger and frustration.
“I haven’t seen her like that in forever,” you mumble. “I haven’t seen her in that much pain in a really long time. I honestly hoped I’d never see it again.”
“Ya know what it means, right Sel?” Miley prompts impatiently.
“Yeah, it means that she wants something I can’t give her. I can’t love her the way she deserves. All I’ll do is break her, and if she shatters one more time, there’s no way in the world that I can put her back together again. It nearly killed us both the first time.”
Miley’s face softens just a bit, but her arms remain folded across her chest (noticeably larger than the last time you really paid attention; great, like you really need the whole Cyrus clan to kill you on top of everything else). “What? Sel, that’s crazy. What’dya mean you can’t love her that way? Who’re you kidding, ’cause everyone knows you do.”
“Wait, what?!” Did the limo just lose air conditioning or is it you? What does she mean that everyone knows? “Miley, that’s just crazy.”
“Is it, Sel? ’Cause I think it’s the truest thing I’ve said all night. I thought it was just Demi at first, but then we figured out it was you too, and--”
“Wait, who’s ‘we’?” Who would she conspire with to figure that out? Who would know?
“Taylor. You tripped off her gaydar a couple days ago. She asked me about it, and here we are. Took her long enough, since she knows way more than me, but whatev.”
“I’m gonna kill that girl,” you growl as you lean your head against the window and watch the slowly passing cars. “Her and her stupid naive ideas about love.”
“Selena, look at me, please,” Miley pleads and you finally turn to face her again. “Look, I’m sorry. I care about’cha, a’right? I want you to be happy. I know ya don’t think so, but I really do love you Selena, you’re almost as much my friend as Taylor.”
You just scoff and turn away, not wanting her to see the gathering tears. You will not cry in front of Miley Cyrus. You will not let her, of all people, see you cry.
“Look, Selena, let’s settle this, ’cause I’m sick of it,” Miley snaps, and suddenly the fear is back, because now you’ve gone and pissed off Miley Cyrus, the only person in the world more frightening than you when angry. Great. You concentrate hard on making the fear disappear from your expression, and look her straight in the eyes. Shock is the only way to describe what you see. Her big puppy dog pout eyes, full of tears.
“Look, Selena, I’m sorry, ’kay? I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you hate me. I just...I just wanna be your friend so bad. I see these glimpses sometimes of the Selena that my friends can’t stop talking ’bout. I wanna be that girl’s friend, and I’ve tried nearly everythin’ I know and I just...if it’s about Nick, then I’m sorry, I just--”
“It’s not about him, okay?! It stopped being about him forever ago, Miley! I’m so sick of hearing about that boy.” You’re seething, because Miley is such a complex mix of woman and child, and she’s asking questions you can’t answer.
“Really? Then what, Selena? I don’t get it, Demi says that you’re jeal--”
“That’s it, Miley, that right there. Everybody important in my life I lose to you one way or another. Okay, not everyone,” you concede, fully aware that you’re rambling but past the point of caring, “but first it was Nick and I forgave that one because it was his fault, really, not yours. You didn’t react real great, but anyway. Then you and Taylor are all BFF in Nashville and at the Grammy’s. But then it’s like you swooped in on Demi when I left and it’s like you act like you don’t know what you’re doing, but that you really do. I’m sick of it, of you taking everyone I love away from me. I can’t help that I’m not good enough, okay? I accepted that a long time ago, just please quit shoving it in my face.”
“Dammit, why didn’t I see it before?” Miley slaps her palm to her forehead, and you see tear tracks on her cheeks. Instantly you feel two inches tall. “Of course it’s always her in the end. Stupid Miley, stupid!” She buries her face in her hands, and you see her back when you first met, when you were thirteen. She was a whirlwind of a girl, stick thin and more country than even East Texas rednecks. She always had those bright eyes and now-famous infectious smile, but one time you found her crying behind some sound equipment. You barely knew her, but wanted to make it all okay, so you asked her why. Her best friend back home had cystic fibrosis, and they didn’t think she’d make it much longer. You spent half an hour between scenes talking about best friends, and you talked about Demi, telling her stupid stories about acting games in Target to cheer her up. That was before everything got so complicated. But now, seeing her cry like this reminds you why you told Demi and Taylor you’d give it a chance with her. She needs you, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. You can’t stay angry with her, not really.
“Miles, I’m sorry,” you apologize, laying your hand lightly on her arm. “I just get so frustrated sometimes. I don’t think you did it on purpose, sometimes it just feels that way. I get all overdramatic and go off on really stupid things, and I’m sorry. You really wanted to be my friend that badly?” She nods, still not meeting your eyes.
“But why, Miley? This is me, I act this way and no one can handle it. Nick couldn’t, he wanted a girl like you, all smiley sweet and that’s just not me. Demi and Taylor are the only ones that can. Why me, when you can have anyone be your friend?”
Miley peaks through her hands and meets your eyes. “Whoa, Demi was right. I didn’t really believe it, but she was.” What? Do you need to kill all your best friends tonight?
Miley sits up and wipes her eyes with a sarcastic, humorless laugh. “She calls you her beautiful disaster. Like the Jon McLaughlin song? I didn’t really get why, I thought maybe it was an inside joke or somethin’. But now I do. Selena, what happened to that punky girl that I knew from “Hannah Montana” that wore “Power Rangers” t-shirts and Converse and didn’t give a damn what anyone said?”
You stare in open-mouthed shock, because who knew Miley could read you like that? “She just grew up, Miley. It happens. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Because that girl chased her dreams all the way to LA and brought her best friend along for the ride. She was confident even in her insecurities. I think that girl wouldn’t be so afraid to give in to what her heart really wants. Why do you think you’d break Demi?”
Miley’s much smarter than you ever gave her credit for, but she still doesn’t get it. “Because I’m not what she wants. She wants someone that can withstand everything we do for our careers, and I can’t do that, I can’t be open about who I am without destroying everything we’ve built together.” Great, now you’ve said too much.
“And who are you, exactly?” Her eyes gleam with hope, a far cry from just five minutes ago. She’s almost back to the smiley Miley the rest of the world knows.
“What are you doing with Demi, first?” You ignore her potentially life-altering question for the moment, trying to pin down her motives. “I need to know before I tell you anything.”
“Honestly, she’s like, one’a my best friends,” she whispers, a pride in her voice that still makes you slightly jealous. “I know I throw that around a lot, but it’s true. She’s fun and we have really similar personalities and she makes me laugh more th’n anyone else has in a long time. I love her, but not like that. Now, what’dya wanna say?”
“You asked me who I am,” you begin nervously, knowing you need to say this, because despite how ridiculous it sounds, this secret will kill you eventually. “I don’t know all those answers, but I miss the girl that let the world see her as she was, not as she’d rehearsed.” You take a deep breath, and do what you do best, get straight to the point.
“But I do know this, and I have even since we did 'Hannah' together...I’m bisexual, Miley, and I’m scared, because you’re the first person I’ve ever told, and I don’t know what to do because I’m in love with my best friend, I have been since I broke up with Nick, probably even before.” Your eyes are darting everywhere and you know that you’re rambling yet again, but you couldn’t stop it if you tried. You’ve held it in too long to go back now. “It goes against everything I’ve ever been taught to believe, and this ring is meaningless if I can’t marry her. I’ve prayed about it, Miley, I’ve prayed about it for years, but it just got stronger and it still won’t go away, and now I don’t think it ever will. Disney will fire us, Dianna will take her back in Texas, and oh God, I can’t do this to her, she doesn’t know how badly we’ll be eaten alive for it. I’m not worth her career and all her dreams, Miles, I’m not. I can’t believe she even wants this. I never even imagined that she’d ever feel this way, I thought it’d make everything better, but it only makes it worse.” You bury your face in your hands, unable to face her and what she might say.
“Selena,” you hear the compassionate tone, and she puts her arm around you and pulls you into her side. “Know what I think? It took me forever to even wanna try to break free from Disney, and you two are already doin’ it. You take every role imaginable, and she plays freakin’ Bamboozle and the whole damn LA alt rock underground, and I think you’re both gettin’ ready for a career and life where you c’n eventually be yourselves for all the world to see. I think you’ve been doin’ it for years without thinkin’ that’s why. Me and Tay kept a couple’a “Team Demi and Selena” t-shirts, and we’re gonna wear ’em when you’re finally free. You’ve both got these kinda dark pasts, and I know for a fact that she might not even be alive today if not for you, so don’t gimme that crap about all ya’d do is break her. If somethin’ happened and you broke up, I think you’d both be devastated, but that’s the risk we take with love, ain’t that right? And seriously, Sel? I think you got it backward. I think it’d break her if you aren’t with her. She loves you Selena, I don’t think you realize how much. She needs you, more th’n she’ll ever need me.”
You attempt to protest, but she puts her hand to your mouth, cutting you off while you both giggle slightly. “How’d you figure all this out, Miley?”
“Just...you’re like, all she talks about. I know you think she’s goin’ off and leavin’ you for all these other friends, but you’re all she talks about with ’em. It’s kinda cute, actually. She thinks you hung the moon, girl. She looks at you like Nick used’ta look at me when we first started dating. How could you not know?”
“I just...we both dreamed of this our whole lives. I’ve always wanted to act, and she’s just, well,” you fumble for the words, “she needs music. Like, to live and breathe because without it I think she might die. She’s finally at a good place, and all this will just put her through so much hell that she doesn’t deserve. She’ll lose everything, and I’m not worth everything she’ll lose. Her family, friends, everything.”
“Sel, the only everythin’ she’ll lose is you. Oh look, we’re here.” She smiles and opens the door, and you totally forgot that everyone wanted to stay at your house tonight. “Tay got your stuff earlier, so it’s all here. They’re here already, too. Just...” she trails off and hugs you fiercely. “No matter what, I’m here. You’re so beautiful, and listenin’ to all them voices tellin’ you that you’re not...it’s just another one’a Satan’s lies. You’re worthy enough, and hell, you’re her everythin’. She loves you. So...whenever you’re ready, rockstar.” With that, she ruffles your hair and steps out of the car.
You follow not far behind because they’ll know something’s up when they see Miley and not you. The door opens before you reach the handle, and out steps your mom. Normally you’d love nothing more than to talk things out, but you can’t. Not this time.
“Selena, honey, can we talk for a minute?” She stands in front of you on the porch, holding your favorite pajamas, the old Transformers t-shirt and green boxers. You nod and follow her out to the garage. “Change out here, all your friends are in there, and you’re not ready to see them yet.” You just nod numbly, not sure at all what’s happening. She knows you better than anyone, even Demi, and usually the reverse is true. Now, though, you’re really confused. Did they say something about tonight? Does she know?
“Selena, you did amazing tonight, and your talent always amazes me,” she says, pulling you into a hug once you’ve finished changing. You jerk back quickly, in total shock.
“Yo-you were there tonight?!” You screech, unable to control yourself. You quickly decide that this is the worst birthday ever before looking at her again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be there, I would’ve spent time with you, and...”
She sighs before pulling down the tailgate of Brian’s truck and sitting down on it, and you slide up with her. “I wanted you to spend your birthday with your friends. You know, the ones you never see because you’re off filming somewhere or you’re literally so tired you don’t even wanna go out. How many nights has Brian had to carry you to bed when you fell asleep on the couch?” You already know the answer: too many.
“I know Mom, but I just,” you falter for a second, unsure how to phrase what you want to say. “I would’ve made sure my friends behaved better if I’d know you were there.” Then under your breath, “I would’ve behaved better if I’d known you were there.”
“Look, Selena, I need to know why Demi was in there surrounded by all your friends and you’re out here alone. Is it because of that song? Have you talked to her yet?”
Your heart lurches in your throat as the tears well in your eyes. “No, not yet.”
“Selena, what’s going on? Do you not feel the same, that why you’re acting this way?” She can’t know. Surely not. “I think you’re in denial. You know what you need to do.”
“But Mom, it’s not that simple. This isn’t like some other fight or thing we’ve had to work through. Please, Mom, tell me what you think. Please.” You’re fighting hard not to cry now, steeling yourself for the disappointment you know is coming.
She sighs deeply, almost like she’s not sure whether to say anything or not. “Demi came over this afternoon while you were at lunch with Taylor. She looked more afraid than I’d ever remembered. She wanted to talk to me about your party, and some other things. She said she had something she needed to tell me, that I needed to know. She went on to tell me that she’s a lesbian, and that she wanted to sing you a particular song tonight, to tell you how she felt. She did good, too, I was so proud of her.”
You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Seriously? Everyone really did know before you. “Mom, what did you think about...her being a-”
“Well, I was a little surprised, but not really. Selena honey, is there anything you need to tell me?” With that, the tears begin to fall. You nod and bury your head in her shoulder. “Selena,” she whispers, kissing your forehead.
“Mom, I’m bisexual. I know it’s not right, but I can’t make it go away. I’ve prayed about it, done everything to make it go away, but it won’t, Mom. It won’t go away, and it’s only gotten stronger. I’m so sorry,” you sob, “I’m so sorry.”
“How long?” you cast a weary glance, and she clarifies. “When did you know?”
“Um...it started when I was thirteen, but I didn’t realize what it all meant until last year.”
“How long have you loved her?” She rolls her eyes at your blank, deer-in-the-headlights expression. “C’mon, Sel, you know exactly what I mean. How long have you loved Demi as more than your best friend?”
Shock radiates from you in waves before you answer, “Since we were fifteen. Right after me and Nick broke up. I knew then.” Had it really been that long ago? But sometimes you think you’ve loved her like this forever now. Maybe you have, maybe you’ve loved her like this all along, ever since that blazing hot day in Las Colinas when she looked at you across her coloring books and smiled that wide gap-toothed smile for the first time.
“Is she why y’all broke up?” Mom looks really confused, but you don’t blame her. You’re about to change her life completely.
“No, but it made me realize a few things...” you trail off before pulling away suddenly. “Mom? I’m so sorry, I know I let you down, that I’m not who you wanted me to be-”
“Stop it, Sel,” she whispers harshly into your hair. “You’re my only daughter. Us against the world, remember? How can I throw you out into it over something like that?”
“But Mom, it’s against everything you ever taught me to believe, how can you be okay with this?” It’s like she’s pushing you off a cliff, and you really don’t know which direction you’ll land in. There’s one last thing you need to do, though. You sit up and pull away from her slightly, just enough to squeeze your right arm out from between your bodies. You reach over with your left hand and remove the ring that’s been there for five years now, shedding the broken promises and bitter regrets, and place it in your mother’s hand. You don’t deserve to wear it, not when you’ve lied to yourself for the last two years. You meet her eyes, and finally she starts to cry, something she rarely does.
“Because I’ve never seen anyone more in love. You love her more than you’ll ever be able to say, and you’re right, it is against everything we believe. But Selena, you were made for each other, and I’ve known it for a long time now. I wouldn’t have chosen this for you, but life gives you so many blessings from the things you never would’ve chosen for yourself. Like this beautiful little girl that I held for the first time seventeen years ago today, who I’ve watched grow into this amazing young woman in the face of obstacles I never even imagined. You are not a disappointment, and I don’t want you thinking that, okay?” You don’t trust your voice, but just nod when she pulls you into her embrace.
“Selena,” she whispers, dropping something in your hand and closing your fingers around it. “That doesn’t belong to me, it belongs to the girl sitting out on the shore with a guitar in her lap. Not yet,” she clarifies, “but it will. Go.” With that she goes back inside, leaving you sitting on the tailgate in shock, alone for the first time tonight. After a quick prayer for courage, you slide down and slip on a pair of old flip-flops that you kicked off haphazardly near the door a few days ago, and slowly make your way out to the beach.
It doesn’t take long to find her, all you really need to do is follow the sound of the strumming guitar hiding just underneath the loudly crashing ocean tide. She’s no longer in her shimmery dress, but a hoodie and what look like some of Miley’s old cheer shorts. You get closer and realize it’s a soft, slow song that you should recognize, but don’t this far away. You stop about ten feet away and listen, hearing the catch in her voice that indicates that she’s been crying, and you finally recognize the words.
“Everybody’s laughing
Maybe that’s just me
Does something unrequited
Mean it will never be
I lean into the whisper
But I don’t hear a thing
It’s a tear in the dark
All alone in the car
In pieces, in pieces
It’s the sound of mistake
As I lie awake
Sleepless, sleepless
This is the sound that’s made
When a heart breaks”
She stops singing and you stand and listen to the soft guitar melody, never moving for fear of her hearing you. “Lena, I know you’re there. Subtle was never really your thing.” Or not so much, you think, walking over and taking a seat on the blanket beside her.
Your head finds her shoulder almost immediately despite your best efforts at self-control, and she continues to play almost like you aren’t there, except for the way she rests her head on yours. She doesn’t say anything else, she’s not used to having to pry things out of you. The tears that seem to be your constant companion tonight start again, and only when she feels them falling on her neck and the fret board does she say anything at all.
“Selena,” she whispers, sending a tangible shiver through you. She pushes the guitar off her lap and draws you fully into her arms. She just holds you in the silence, and like always, the safety of her arms makes all your walls come crashing down.
“Lena, tell me why you cry,” she whispers softly, and you just sob harder. It’s what you used to ask her as kids when she was upset, whether it was a scraped knee, jealously over a new baby sister, or bullies at school that made her feel worthless. She very rarely asked you, though, because you just didn’t cry much back then. Now, though, it’s all you ever seem to do. When you eventually gain control over yourself again, you look up into her own red-rimmed eyes and feel immediately guilty.
“I just...everything is going in so many directions all at once,” you rush out. It’s not even close to what you really want to say, but still the truth that you’ve been living with way too long. “I just,” you break eye contact and stare at the sand. “I feel lost, like I need you more than ever, and you’re pulling away from me, and I don’t know what hurts worse, losing my best friend or any chance I ever had at more, at everything I ever wanted.”
“What do you mean lose me, Selena?” Her mouth forms a slight frown and her eyebrows draw in a bit, obviously confused. “I’m right here, and I still need you. Yeah, we haven’t been able to like, spend as much time together lately, but I do.”
Suddenly anger flares inside of you, and you push yourself out of her lap and onto your feet. The loss of contact makes you dizzy, but you’re too far gone to think about it. “Oh really, Demi? You could’ve fooled me. You don’t need me anymore, you’ve got Miley and the whole freaking Cyrus family and Jac and all those band guys! I get that they’re prettier than me, and more talented and famous and all that, but really, Demi?! What happened to always and forever?” Your eyes are wide at the hurt you see in hers, the emotions she never really learned to hide, but the hurt quickly dissolves into an intensity that literally takes your breath away as she stands up and makes her way over to you.
“You really wanna know, Selena?” Her eyes flash dangerously, full of swirling emotions you can’t identify save one: anger. “It hurts too much! It hurts that you’re always half a world away and that you agree to do new movies and shit all the time without even like, talking to me about it anymore, and I stopped using iChat with you because seeing you on a screen six inches in front of me was like, a cruel joke because you’re close enough to touch but not really. I hurt, Selena, all over, and you were gone for months at a time hanging out with stupid Taylor Lautner, and I had to do something to distract me, to keep me from wanting to...never mind. I went to concerts with Jac and her friends and had so much fun, because they get me and like, no one else at Disney does. One day Miley came by on her bike, saying she’d never realized that I lived just down the street. We hung out in the front yard and literally talked for like, hours, and it just went from there.”
“But what about Trace?” Your foot taps impatiently in the sand, arms folded across your chest. You refuse to think about the implications of everything she’s said. Demi’s eyes change then, take on a deep sadness you haven’t seen since her first boyfriend dumped her then asked out the cheerleader that loved to torture her three days later.
“I hang out at Miley’s all the time when you’re gone, and she started dropping hints and teasing that her brother had a crush on me. Of course he had like, no chance, but we became friends, and he started flirting like, a lot, and I kinda led him on for a while. Longer than I should’ve. I told him the truth eventually, that he didn’t have a shot in hell, no boy did, really. I guess it just...” her voice trails off into the dark before she finally finds the words. “I guess it just felt good to like, be wanted by someone, you know?”
“But I want you!” Your self-control is finally gone, and her head snaps up to meet your eyes in shock. It changes everything and she knows it, because you’ve never used that word regarding her before, ever, not in ten years of friendship. Then suddenly, you’re on an angry, frustrated roll, with no hope of stopping anytime soon.
“I want you so much, it’s just...no actually, I don’t want you, I need you. Maybe it’s both. I just know that I can’t control it, can’t make it go away. I’ve tried everything, and I just, I don’t even know anymore. I can’t get you out of my head, the way you laugh when I call you a dork, the way you feel curled in my arms when we watch cheesy scary movies, the way I always feel safe sleeping in yours and how I wanna wake up that way my entire life, the way you say my name all goofy one minute and loving the next, the way I feel hotter than summer back home when you move onstage, the way you refuse to change for anybody but yourself, the way you love me like I’m your whole world, just like you’re my whole world. Just like I love you.” You stop abruptly, gasping from lack of air and the sheer force of a confession two years in the making.
Her eyes are wide and brimming with tears, and you’ve never been more afraid of anything in your life, because there’s no going back now. No going back to childhood games of Queen of the Castle, or listening to Paramore while reading girly magazines, or feeling each other up at the Teen Choice Awards. There’s no going back to when she was your best friend, because you’ve just ruined everything good you ever had.
“Selena? Wh-what’s that last part?” Her voice contains a desperation beyond anything you’ve seen from her in a long time, not since her torturous middle school days. But underneath it all, a flickering hope glowing behind her eyes, steadily gaining strength.
“What, that I love you so much I can’t breathe without you, that you’re perfect for me and I’m so tired of being alone?” You snap impatiently, not at all how you wanted this conversation to go. Then again, you never really thought you’d have this conversation with her at all. “That when everyone else gets bored and moves on I’ll be the one waiting here for you when it’s cold-”
The words die on your lips as Demi takes two steps forward, grabs your face in both her hands and crashes your lips with hers. Despite the rough way she pulled you in, the kiss is softer than you expected. She pulls back slightly and slides her left hand down to hold onto your hip, her right hand (guitar pick still in hand) smoothing back your short dark curls before leaning in and capturing your lips again. You moan almost instantly because this? This feels better than even your wildest dreams, and somehow you gain the courage to nibble slightly at her bottom lip to deepen the kiss, still standing in the sand, the evening tide playing its own song slowly in the background. It’s the kind of movie kiss that you’ve never admitted that you’ve always wanted, the kind of admission that Demi usually teases you mercilessly for, but right now all that matters is that she’s finally right here in front of you, kissing you like your very lives depend on it, and it’s almost enough to make the doubts and fears fade away. Almost.
You break away first, gulping for air. You don’t have her stamina, you’re not used to singing your heart out for nearly two hours every night on tour. Her hand is still in your hair, and everything comes flooding back, worse than before. “Lena...” she rasps, that high-pitched tone her voice takes on when it cracks from exhaustion.
“I’m so afraid,” you whimper slightly, and she tilts your forehead down a bit to connect with hers. “I can’t do this, I can’t start something that’ll ruin both our lives, I just can’t.”
Her eyes, those beautiful expressive dark eyes, lose some of their light, and she brushes her thumb across your bottom lip. “Why?” She asks, eyes filling with tears.
You pull back slightly, and pull her left arm from around you, already feeling the cold settle in. Her forearm stretched before you, you sweep your fingers delicately over the lines close to her wrists. The tears are streaming down her cheeks now, a look of utter shame crossing her face. Just, no, you don’t want her feeling that way. Never again.
“No, Demi,” you reassure her, wiping her tears away with your free hand. “I’d never be ashamed of you. Ever. I just can’t do this to you again. Sometimes I feel like I did this to you, like every hurtful thing I’ve ever said or every time I haven’t been there for you is another mark on your beautiful skin. What if we start something and it all falls apart? It’d kill me, and you too. Or if people found out and it wrecked our careers? I can’t live with myself if I took that away from you, and I’m not worth losing your dreams over.”
“You done yet?” Her tone is sharp, almost angry, but her eyes are dancing with a slightly mischievous light. Your Demi is finally back. You nod, and she takes the hand holding her arm and slides it behind her, resting your hand on the small of her back. She gives you a quick kiss, the kind that might become a habit someday, then rubs your noses together in an eskimo kiss like the ones from your childhood.
“You’re wrong, Lena,” she giggles, “that’s my dream, and it has been for like, forever. You’re so worth it, you’re worth everything, don’t you see that? You’re my everything, the reason I write, the reason I sing. I wouldn’t even have a career at all if not for you like, guiding me through. I love performing, it’s like, who I am, but if I had to choose between that and you, I’d give it up tomorrow. But these...” she looks down to where your hand is still tracing over the scars, “none of that’s your fault, Selena. It’s all mine. Anytime it involved you it was because I like, missed you when you were gone and everything else got too overwhelming. I didn’t know any better way to deal, but I do now. Mainly it was like, things at home, with Mom. So don’t ever think you’re not worth the pain or that you’re not enough, because you are. You always were, and honestly Lena, it hurts me more to not have you the way I want you.”
“Yeah, and how’s that?” You ask saucily, yet genuinely curious about her response.
“Sleeping in my arms, dancing along to silly songs and sexy ones, too. Sharing late night kisses in the dark, you stumbling into the kitchen one day wearing only my t-shirt.” You blush violently at the thought, and try to hide it while she continues, “Madison understanding exactly why I love you so much, seeing the warmth and sparkle in your eyes when you take care of her. Being able to replace this,” she holds your hand and twirls your James Avery purity ring, “with a diamond one. It hurts to look in your eyes and see my whole life and like, not know if you want that, too. You know what else I want?”
“What?” Your eyebrows furrow slightly, what else could she say that she hasn’t already?
“I want you to forget our families and friends, the fans, the media, what everyone expects of us, all your fears of letting everyone down, and tell me: what do you want, like, if nothing could stop you and no one would think less of you?”
“You.” The answer comes rapidly and surprisingly easily, and she leans in for another kiss, this one soft and lingering but still too short.
“Then, for once in your life Lena, give in to what you want.” It’s the same exact thing that Miley said earlier, but hearing Demi ask that of you causes a completely different reaction. Especially now that you know that your mom and Taylor don’t completely hate you for it. So you take the more dangerous path in hopes that it doesn’t blow up in your face, that somehow it’ll all end up okay. But even underneath the slowly subsiding fear and doubt, you know that it will, even if the worst does happen. Ten years, and Demi’s still right here, and you know now that despite all appearances to the contrary, she’s never left and never will. So you do what you always have: step out bravely on faith.
You dip down a bit and kiss the tip of her nose, then speak the one word that will forever change your life. “Okay.” She smiles that classic Demi smile, so wide you’re surprised it doesn’t crack her face, and she just positively glows with happiness.
“Really?” She whispers excitedly, and you nod and smile. In that moment you still see the little girl that so enraptured you at age seven, and you can’t help yourself any longer. You taste the sparks on your tongue and feel more than hear the cross between a gasp and a sigh that leaves her throat as you kiss her for only the second time in your lives. Her pouty lips feel softer than you ever dreamed, and she matches the slow and easy tempo of the kiss with just enough passion to give you the promise of a lifetime of something more. You pull away first, overwhelmed both by the thoughts racing through your mind and Demi’s sweet sugar cookie scent still lingering beneath the sand and the sweat of the night.
“Now if only you’d kissed me like that when we were younger,” she teases playfully, and your face flushes slightly before you give in to the giggles erupting from your throat.
“I was twelve, okay?! Jeez, Dem, it’s not like I was practicing kissing my pillow every night like some people.” She pushes your shoulder lightly, face now glowing red in the moonlight, and you push back harder until both of you are rolling around and wrestling in the sand. You eventually land so that she’s laying flat and you’re straddling her, pinning her arms still above her head. Your eyes meet hers, and you see the love that, looking back, was there all along, but also a wanting, threatening to overtake it behind her beautiful, soulful brown eyes.
“Baby, you know I was kidding, right? We were just kids, it was my first kiss. We didn’t know any better, or even what it meant.” She notices that your smile is fading, “what’s going through that beautifully disturbed little head of yours, Selenalenalena?”
Bittersweet tears pool in your eyes, but you shake them off, determined not to let them win again. Because she’s here, staring up at you so lovingly, giving you everything you ever wanted, showing you that you don’t always need to be alone.
You release her hands, and drag your right one down to her face, pushing her bangs back and stroking her cheek. “But I did, Demi. I think I knew.” Her eyebrows quirk upward, and she silently beckons you to continue. “You wanted to be kissed so badly, it was all I heard about. Especially after I told you about the kiss with Dylan Sprouse. Finally I got tired of it, and gave you your first real kiss. I just thought it was gonna be like acting, like with Dylan. But it wasn’t. My stomach felt all fluttery and crazy and my lips tingled and it left me breathless. I didn’t understand it. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I even knew it then, but you never talk about it, so...” You drop your hands, playing with the strings of her hoodie, as unsure of her reaction as you are of your own emotions.
She shifts underneath you, pulling herself into a seated position with you still on her lap. “See, that’s so funny, Selena. You didn’t know a kiss could be like that, but I never knew a kiss couldn’t be like that, because you ruined me forever. I couldn’t talk about it, Lena, you know why.” Her eyes search yours for a moment, and you wonder momentarily what she sees in them when she speaks again. “You can’t worry about all the ‘what-ifs’ and the ‘might’ve-beens’ because that’ll kill you. I love you, always and forever.”
“I love you too, Dem, forever and always.” You bury your face in the crook of her shoulder and neck, taking in her alluring scent. You nuzzle your face, groaning when it scratches. “Ugh, you’re covered in sand, babe,” you whine as you stand up, reaching your hand out to Demi. She takes it and stands up, brushing off as much as she can.
“Yeah, well, you’ve got it everywhere too,” she mutters while bending to grab the guitar and blanket that lay almost forgotten in the sand nearby. You begin dusting sand off your legs, but stop in your tracks when your eyes catch Demi, bent over in the sand. She stays there for a second too long before standing up gracefully, giving you a full view of her hips curving and swaying in those little bitty cheer shorts.
"Selenalenalena!” You jump at her sharp, sudden yell and look up to see Demi standing about a foot away, hands resting on her hips (one of which she’s popped for effect) with a devious smirk. Not to mention her eyes, almost black with the want that’s nearly consumed all traces of amusement.
Crap. “Um, sorry Dem, uh, you ready to g-go inside?” She looks at you and bursts out laughing, the loud, booming laughter that you fell in love with years ago. You stare down at the beach beneath your feet in shame, only to look up and meet her eyes with a nervous smile. She drapes the blanket across your shoulders and reaches out to take your hand, and together you start walking back toward your house while she sings the Shakira part of “Hips Don’t Lie.”
You roll your eyes, “sorry, Demi, I just--” She quickly cuts off the rest of your apology.
“Don’t you dare apologize, Selena Marie, it was hilarious and so cute,” she giggles, smiling way too wide at your embarrassment. “I guess it just makes me laugh to see my sweet little Selena so blatantly checking me out when I’ve done it to you more times than I can remember.”
You stop for a moment and turn to look at her, curiosity finally getting the best of you. “Really? When? Why?”
“Uh, because you’re like, gorgeous,” she replies in a “duh” tone. “The time I remember most is when I saw ‘Another Cinderella Story’. The skateboarding, the whole masquerade ball scene, and just you dancing period made me wanna die. So hot.” She grins, winking all the while, and starts walking forward again. “Come on tiny dancer,” she whispers playfully. “Let’s go inside.”
This new information shouldn’t surprise you at all, but it does. You’ve never really seen yourself that way, always feeling like one of the boys. You never thought anyone viewed you like that, let alone Demi. She’s the one person you always hoped would see you as beautiful. Your mom, Jen, and Taylor (sometimes even Miley) told you that you were all the time, but it’s never mattered more than from Demi. Speaking of Miley and Taylor...
“You think we can like, sneak in past crazy and crazier?” Demi wonders, having seen the question in your eyes. You just give her a look, and she answers her own question. “Yeah, probably not.” She laughs awkwardly, and you point out, “yeah, but they’re the reason we’re finally here.”
“Yeah,” she acknowledges softly, then keeps walking up to the back porch, stealing a quick kiss before leading you inside. There are still so many questions, and so much that you want her to know. But later, after everyone else is in bed and you’re spooned back in Demi’s arms, you know she’ll be there in the morning. For the first time in a long while, you’re looking forward to tomorrow. Seventeen is a new chapter, one that’ll start tomorrow when you wake up to her mischievous eyes, beautiful smile, and early morning kisses; and, the best part? It’s only just beginning.
========================================
“Miley, put that damn thing down,” you hear Taylor sigh from the couch. You just shoot her a playfully defiant look over your shoulder and slide out the back screen door, camera in hand. Your inner photographer is screaming to get some shots of the beach at night, particularly a certain young couple on the beach at night.
“Just keep workin’ on that video blog thang of yours, Swift. I got this,” you laugh. Taylor’s such a crazy girl sometimes. In an innocent way, of course. Only she would talk Demi into singing a song like a confession. You all do it, obviously, but Taylor’s got a courage like none other to actually put the names in her songs. Hell, you couldn’t even do it in your book. The loud song jars you for a moment, piercing the silence of the night. “If we chase the stars to lose our shadows, Peter Pan and Wendy turned out fine, so won’t you fly with me?” Speaking of...
“Hey, how was New York?” You answer immediately, not wanting to miss his call. You haven’t talked in days, and it’s slowly starting to take its toll.
“It was awwwesome, Miles,” he yawns, only making you miss him more. “We played three sold-out shows and I swear the sound and the show gets better every night.”
“That’s so cool, I’m glad the songs are going over so well. Joe hasn’t fallen off the revolving stages yet, has he?” That boy’s bound to hurt himself one of these days. Yet people still wonder where his DJ Danger nickname came from. Yeah, okay.
“No Mile,” he laughs, voice cracking under the strain of three shows at one venue in three days. “Who do you think he is, Demi?”
“Nicholas Jerry Jonas,” you start in, barely able to suppress your giggles. “That’s a horrible way’a talkin’ ’bout the girl you call your sister.”
“Yeah, well, she’d probably fire back with something about the Tulsa show anyway,” he responds, “so it’s not like she’d cry over it.”
“Yeah, the Tulsa show where you almost missed the piano bench because you were too busy laughin’ your ass off at Joe singin’ ’bout Taylor?” The annoyance slowly rises in your voice, and while seeing Nick so animated on stage had warmed your heart, you still wanted to kill Joe sometimes. “Yep, that was real funny.”
“Mile,” he sighs wearily, “I know you’re standing there wherever you are with your arms folded and giving me that ‘look of doom’ but seriously?” You keep forgetting how well he knows you.
“Sorry Nicky, I love the boy to death, but sometimes when he says crap like that all I c’n think ’bout is helpin’ her pick up the pieces after his stupid phone call.” You quickly change the subject, not wanting to fight over something this stupid that you can’t change anyway. “Wait, just how’dya know about that look?”
“C’mon, you’ve had it since you were thirteen. You get it from your mom, she used to scare me to death with it. I used to record the early season one episodes and watch them on the road, and you did it in nearly every one. Where are you, anyway?”
Your heart melts at his little confession. “I’m at Selena’s. Taylor’s inside workin’ on video blogs and I was watchin’ the sunset and tide and-”
“Taking pictures?” You hear the amusement in his voice, like it always was, hopefully always will be. If he were here, you’d see it dancing in his eyes, all while running your fingers through his curly, curly hair. Your poor kids are gonna be absolutely cursed with curls. He takes your slow response as an affirmative.
“Thought so. Send one to me? You’re really at Selena’s with Taylor? What’d Swift pay Lena to agree to that?”
“Nick!” He laughs at your scandalized tone, but even you can concede when he’s right.
“Nothin’, tonight was Selena’s birthday concert thing. So much fun, but sooo exhausting. We even rode back to her house together just the two of us, so there.” You stick out your tongue for effect, even though he can’t see it.
“Wow. Guess I was wrong. Demi and Taylor didn’t ride back with you?” You can see clearly in your mind’s eye his eyebrows knitting together in adorable confusion.
“No, I needed’ta talk to Sel ’bout some stuff alone, and Taylor needed the same with Demi, so we rode back in diff’rent cars.” You bite your lip in hesitation for a moment, before going forward. You suck at keeping secrets, but this one...
“Nicky? R’member that wacked-out theory of mine we talked about at the Village Idiot back in April, right after premiere week and the ACMs?”
“Yeah, about Demi, right? Miley, I thought you promised to drop it, her sexuality shouldn’t be up for debate--”
“It’s not so wacked-out after all,” you blurt out. “I really think it’s true, Nicky.”
“Why? Did something happen at Lena’s birthday?” You secretly love when he worries over your friends. Like, he cares about your world and your life, not just you.
“Yeah, but I can’t tell ya all of it, because I dunno how it’s gonna turn out yet,” you whisper. “Besides, it ain’t my secret to tell. Demi will tell ya when she’s ready. Y’all are like freakin’ twins, anyway. It’s scary how much she reminds me’a you and how obsessive perfectionist crazy you both get.”
“Yeah, well, she reminds me of you a lot, at least, she did on tour, anyway. She’s just as spontaneous and insane as you.”
“Thanks a lot, Nicholas. Nice’ta know you love me for my sanity.”
“Destiny? The black keys are showing.” You grin and fire back, “you wouldn’t have it any other way.” All the perfect rainbows in the world, and he loves the black keys the best. Go figure. Some things about that boy you’ll never understand, but you plan to spend the rest of your life trying to figure it out.
“No, I wouldn’t,” he murmurs seriously. “Look, I gotta go Mile, I’m exhausted and I’ve still gotta do all my checks and change out my pod tonight.”
“A’right, Nicky. I miss you, so much.”
“I know, princess, I do too.” Your face breaks into a wide smile, since that nickname’s still relatively new. He asserted that, since you called him Prince Charming, that made you his princess. After arguing yourself hoarse, you finally caved when you realized you weren’t gonna win that one. But you always kinda secretly loved it anyway. “I love you, and behave, okay? I don’t want Demi texting me while she and Taylor take bets.” Man, sometimes you feel like an “I Love Lucy” rerun.
“Yes, Ricky, I’ll do my best,” you sarcastically retort, “but you never let me have any fuuunnn, waaaahhh.” He’s laughing hysterically at your best Lucille Ball, and you crack up even before you finish it completely. When he finally catches his breath, you answer, “Fine, Nick, but you’re worryin’ over nothin’. It’s totally fine, ’kay? I love you.”
“Love you too,” he yawns, exhaustion finally taking over. “Sweet dreams, princess.”
“Happy nightmares, Nicky.”
“iChat tomorrow?” He giggles, and you can tell he’s about to hit hyper-tired.
“Definitely. Night-night.” You hang up after his giggly good-night and pick up your camera, searching the dark horizon for anything beautiful, really; an old beach shack, the moon glinting off the water. The guitar left in the sand...wait, guitar?
You focus the lens in on the farthest zoom setting, and finally begin to register the details. The Gibson logo, the butterflies and hummingbirds on the pickguard. Demi’s brand-new Hummingbird that she begged and saved for, laying on a blanket out there. You get a few amazing shots of the pickguard and the frets before wondering why she left it there. You’ve got half a mind to go steal it, but then you notice the blanket the guitar sits on moving, and you track up to Demi leaning over to pick them both up out of the sand.
She throws the strap over her shoulder and begins walking, blanket in hand, closer toward the house. She only gets a few steps before stopping, though, and she stands smirking with one hand on a popped-out hip, then she’s laughing so hard she nearly falls over. You’re not into girls like her, but damn she’s hot when she stands like that, especially wearing your shorts that cover next-to-nothing. Then she drapes the blanket over the shoulders of a shame-faced Selena and laces their fingers together before walking away from the shoreline.
You walk around a bit, an idea taking shape if you can only get the right angle. Then, leaning over the railing, you find the perfect shot and seize upon the opportunity. You take several different pictures of them from behind, guitar strapped to Demi’s back and the blanket wrapped around Selena’s shoulders. Their hands are intertwined, and if they walk any closer to each other, they’ll trip over each others’ legs. Their heads lean close together, no doubt some private conversation that you’ll never hear. At one time it would’ve unsettled you, but now you’re content to let the world revolve around someone else, at least for a while. It’s such an intimate view into a moment, and you’re consistently amazed at what you can capture, the world you can create through pictures.
You notice them getting closer to the porch, so you sneak back inside and shake Taylor, gesturing for her to follow you upstairs into the guest room you’re staying in tonight. Before, you’d wanted nothing more than to catch them coming back inside, but now you don’t wanna break their quiet, shared intimacy. You still catch them coming in, since Taylor’s still packing up her MacBook and saving all her work to carry upstairs. They’re giggling quietly, still holding hands, and nothing even looks different because they’ve always been ridiculously close. But the weight of the world isn’t on Selena’s shoulders anymore, and Demi’s smile finally reaches her eyes again. Fortunately, Taylor steps in.
“Hey guys, we’re gonna go upstairs and get to bed,” Taylor tells them quietly, reminding you why she’s so much better at this than you are. “Love you both, and we’ll see you in the morning.” She reaches out to hug first Selena, then Demi, and you do the same before watching them go upstairs hand in hand. You and Taylor soon follow, and she resumes her work in the guest room while you mess around on your own new Gibson, fleshing out the song you sang in Georgia a little more. She finally gets to a stopping point and shuts it down for the night, staring at you curiously while you put away your guitar.
“What’d you say to Lena, Miley? I need to know whether to defend you tomorrow or kick your ass,” she warns playfully, pulling out her pajamas, toothbrush, and retainer case.
“Aw, I just had a mini breakdown and knocked a li’l bit’a sense into her, that’s all,” you laugh. “She just needed’ta be able to yell at somebody without feelin’ guilty, since she didn’t want you to see that side’a her again and didn’t wanna hurt Demi.”
You don’t kid yourself into believing that you’re some relationship expert. Nick was your first real relationship, and except for your relationship with Justin and a few casual dates here and there, he’s the only one you’ve ever really loved. It’ll make a great story for your kids, but not for a friend in trouble. Taylor doesn’t have much more experience than you, but she’s walked so many friends through their relationships, both here and in Nashville, that nothing really surprises her anymore. Sure, she snarks a lot and talks a big game, but in the end, she’s so sensitive to other people’s heartbreaks.
She stops her movements and looks at you quizzically, then those bright blue eyes get glassy with tears and she flashes you a watery smile. “My little Miley is growing up,” she coos, and you grin right before sticking your finger in your throat and jokingly gagging.
“Or not so much,” she deadpans while sliding off the bed and making her way toward you, all the while rolling her eyes. She reaches out her arms and pulls you in, embracing you for long seconds. You relax into her hold, enjoying the feel of this girl that’s become one of only a handful of people that you really trust. She stood by you when everyone else abandoned you, even though she was dating Joe when everything went down. It would’ve been so easy for her to leave you, too, but she never did.
You pull away to allow her to finish getting ready, and suddenly a question burns in your mind. “So what’dya tell Demi? ’Cause I’m pretty sure ya didn’t have quite the same type discussion with her that I had with Selena.” At least, she better not have.
“Well,” she smiles, that soft, dreamy smile she gets when she talks about love and dreams and fairy tales, “I just reminded her of what she already knew: that no matter how much she tries to deny the way she loves Selena, it’s in every song, if you listen close enough. I told her to listen a little closer to her heart, her songs, her story.”
Man, if only you could speak like this girl. Most of the time anything you say comes out in a spastic southern drawl at warp speed, and you’re lucky if you think through what you say half the time, or even hear it. But it’s who you are, and what she told Demi is so her, all about love and stories, and any combination of the two.
“Yep, that’s ’bout right,” you smirk, climbing into bed while she goes to take out her contacts and put in her retainer for the night. When she comes back wearing her dorktastic glasses and climbs in next to you, you reach for the camera while she just rolls her eyes.
“You know, I’m all for you pursuing this,” she sighs, “as long as you quit taking sneaky random pictures of all of us. Go take pictures of traffic or something.” When you cock your eyebrow and glare at her, she snaps goofily, “or go play in traffic, Miles. It’s up to you, really.” Finally neither of you can hold in your laughter, and when you calm down you turn on the camera and start scrolling through the pictures.
“Check’em out Taylor, I think these are keepers,” you thrust the camera into her hands and watch her reaction. She’s acting like she’s watching a Hallmark or Lifetime movie, and you can tell she’s about to cry. Again.
“Miley, these are beautiful,” she coos, “can I have a copy, maybe? They look so...you really captured how in love they are, and you’ve got a great artistic eye.”
“Thank ya, Tay,” you blush slightly. “I guess their story’ll have a happy endin', huh?”
“Well, we’ll figure it out tomorrow for sure,” Taylor smiles ruefully, “but yeah, I’d say so. Hey, you cool if I turn out the light? I’m exhausted.”
“No problem,” you yawn. “Night, Tay.” You burrow under the covers while she turns out the light. “G’night, Miley,” she slurs, a combination of the retainer and her sleepiness.
You lay there in the dark and reach to set the alarm on your Blackberry, receiving an incoming text at the same time. It’s from Selena, just down the hall: “Got this txt from Nick: ‘Happy 17th bday Selena. Hope ur party concert was fun, & here’s 17 words of wisdom 4 ur 17th bday: Listen 2 ur head, follow ur heart. If u follow ur heart, u can never go wrong.’ Great catch, don’t let him go again. Night, Miley, & thnks.”
“Never again. Luv ya, night-night.” You hit “send” and lay the Blackberry on the nightstand next to you as it fades to black, and in the dark you reflect on the last few months. So much can change in such a short time, but for the first time in a long time, it’s a good change. Yeah, Demi and Selena got their happy ending, but it’s not really an ending at all; it’s just a beginning. For them, and for all of you.
One day you’ll be a celebrity photographer (not paparazzi), touring with Nick or waiting at home for him with the kids in the house with the white picket fence in Nashville (or the house in Dallas, when you’re visiting everyone). Taylor will live close enough to have coffee together once a week, whenever she’s not busy writing and producing for the next up and coming country artist or acting as Rolling Stone’s special contributor. Demi and Selena will live at home in Dallas when they can, working around Selena’s Academy-Award nominated movie schedules and Demi’s video directing shoots, plus the occasional touring (she loves it too much to ever stop). You’ll all meet up in Dallas regularly to shop and hang out away from all the bright lights and glitter, and it’s all your dreams coming true, and you see it all so clearly, so close you can taste it. Despite the insomnia that’s plagued you for the last several months, you fall asleep with a smile, peacefully dreaming of the end of the story, of happily ever after.