FIC: Walk Through Hell
Title: Walk Through Hell - "No Words to Speak"
Author: sleepy-writer08 ...and maybe sort of thebubblyterror
Pairing: Demi Lovato/Selena Gomez
Summary: You should know by now that my home is wherever you are.
Disclaimer: THEY ARE NOT OURS. OBVIOUSLY. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. If they did belong to us, sexy time would be all the time, no horse faced boys would dare intrude, and they would never, ever be apart, physically or emotionally.
AN: I DIDN'T WRITE THIS. NO MATTER HOW MUCH sleepy-writer08 INSISTS THAT I DID SOMETHING TO IT, THIS MAGNIFICENT PIECE OF WORK IS ALL HERS. She also insisted that we post it here, instead of bouncing back and forth between our journals. So. That is why this is here. Right. Oh, duh, none of that makes any sense to anyone but me. Basically, I wrote the first part as a one shot aaaages ago, and then she wrote me back. ♥ Sweet of her, right? Wrong. She bribed me into continuing. I bribed her into agreeing to write it with me. So, give her love, seeing as she's fucking amazing. (Wow. Just realized that me writing the AN on this makes absolutely no sense. Sorry, guys.)
God, she had no clue how wrong she was.
She was convinced she could survive without something that had disappeared from her life. She had sworn to herself that it would have no effect on her, she was already so broken. The tears that once only snuck their way down in rare moments of weakness have marked paths along her face in near permanent stains. Cold and alone, Selena was the only one there to feel them slip agonizingly away, burning the skin all the way down.
Selena had, in a manner which became second nature just as effortlessly as walking--or even, to take the illusion a step further, the ease in which loving her had always taken--concealed her emotions from the world. She hid behind a façade, a painted mask of happiness and contentment, while each day, each single moment, chipped another part of her aching soul away for eternity.
Circles embedded beneath Selena’s eyes had also become a frequent sight. Make-up artists would frequently express their concern, but eventually, they learned from caustic remarks and icy glares that it was not their task to question the dark circles, but only to obscure them, just as the once exuberant Selena had been obscured by a more cynical one.
Disney had not been happy with this change, that much had been made clear on several occasions and meetings with the young star. However, Selena had sat unmoving through each request, threat, and ultimatum the corporation had thrown at her. She knew her worth to the company and the job security her legions of fans provided her with, so worry for herself was the last thing on her mind. Ultimately, Disney was forced to settle with what Selena could provide: satisfied parents and more importantly, an exponentially increasing flow of money. To cut to the quick of it, Selena was the most naturally talented actress they had signed in recent years, if not ever, and keeping even the empty shell of what she once was would have to do. Losing her would be like losing everything now.
Just as bright mornings revealed a hard working star, late nights found a heartbroken Selena in front of a computer screen, gazing at someone who had once been in her grasp, only to be what felt like physically ripped out of her embrace and thrust in a world that picked at the her deep wounds in her heart, drained her until she was hollow and broken, left alone to crawl home. Home, even, was a relative term, seeing that without her, it was just an empty house. Selena had long since taken down the pictures and memories, leaving the walls of her room picked dry, like a bleached skeleton in the desert. Once, when the pain wasn't so bad, she had entertained the notion of whitewashing the walls they had painted and doodled on, just to complete the metaphor, but she could never muster the energy to do so. Selena’s eyes would flutter closed at these thoughts, the familiar sharp prickle behind them signaling another oncoming breakdown. Despite her attempts at pushing all thoughts of their relationship behind her, a single headline imprinted itself on the inside of her lids, glaring at and mocking her. The tattooed older brother had become the tattooed older boyfriend; the flirty girls on the verge of becoming Selena’s replacement.
Tears squeezed past the feeble barrier, slipping into their known trek, and Selena willed herself away to another time, a time where the world had seemed to revolve around Demi Lovato and herself. The unabashed hands, the roaming lips, and whispered confessions of love drove Selena mad, her head swimming from the memories of forgotten pasts. A single crooked line had been the result that night. Selena had been unable to stop herself, not only curiosity, but also the enticing promise of being pain free had forced her to lift the razor and graze it along her skin. It had been an interesting sensation, though she was too careful to draw blood or leave a scarring reminder. Opening her weary eyes, Selena had seen the picture evident on the screen: Demi's arm around the man’s neck, his lips and stubble pressing against her cheek. Then there was the gasp that had escaped into the silent room, the small clattering of the sharp razor hitting the wood, and the blood surfacing from the ripped skin and ruptured vessels. Selena watched in morbid fascination as the sticky substance, redder than anything she had seen before, formed an intricate yet sloppy pattern along the expanse of skin.
It had been Dallas who had discovered her. It had been Dallas who had bandaged Selena’s wrist wordlessly. Selena never learned what had brought the eldest Lovato child about that evening, but she had been grateful for the questions that had been left unasked and buried.
That night had been the night that things changed. Selena became a workaholic, throwing her entire self into her career, while wading deeper into her depression every night. By this time in her career, Selena had become an expected guest at every charity event, each award show, and every single fan meeting. Now, she attended upon one condition. Demi's presence must already have been guaranteed elsewhere. Selena was missing from any event that required a confrontation of any kind. Demi, however, was a constant sight at these events. This had not gone unnoticed by the media. The headlines were torturous in Selena’s opinion. Rumors, speculation, and blatant lies of what had happened between the two girls wore down at the wall Selena had built around herself. It was not long before Selena learned to let the questions roll off her back. She carried herself with a lost gracefulness and answered with vague yet oddly satisfying replies. She still couldn’t pretend she didn’t notice Demi's insistent "no comment" on any question involving her, but the actress could hold off on the imaginative possibilities that her over-active mind produced until she was alone in the darkness.
Eventually, one headline took things too far. It had not been about Demi and Selena’s relationship; no, Selena had long since learned to veil her emotions on that subject, and no reporter would dare go there. This headline had revolved around the breakup between Demi and the tattooed long-faced boy whose name had never been important enough for Selena to learn. It was not the break up that forced Selena out of her silence. The headline that forced Demi into the spotlight was focused on the aftermath of the destruction he left. The one person Selena had learned to pull away from had gone missing. The ache in her heart multiplied tenfold, the dark circles deepened, and her appetite vanished.
Selena’s face was gaunt, her usual lanky form bordering a dangerous thin line. She watched from home as Demi’s family appeared on the news, begging, pleading their daughter to return to them. It was Madison’s tearful request for someone to just bring Demi home that broke the girl. Seeing that was the last straw. She snapped. Selena had stood motionless in front of the microphone the very next day, and upon cue, stared the camera dead in the eye, surprisingly emotionless, a single sentence spoken clearly.
“It’s time to come home, Demi.”
There had been no niceties, no politeness or formality in Selena’s blunt demand. There had been no explanation for the actress’s broken silence. Of course, that was only because immediately after, the girl had turned about-face, walking away from the flashing lights and probing questions with a confidence everyone saw and a broken heart no one had bothered to notice.
Nearly a week later, Selena apologized to Madison late in the evening. There was no news of Demi and Selena felt it to be her responsibility, her failure, for the girl’s missing presence. Although Selena listened as the youngest Lovato insisted the actress had had no fault in this matter, Selena couldn’t help but feel the sting of irony in her little sister's words. That night was not unlike the others, finding Selena in a curled position upon her sheets, tears streaming freely as she blamed herself for the self-destruction Demi had brought upon herself. There had to have been a way to save her, she accused herself, sobs racking her thin frame.
A knock had drawn her out of her reverie, a pull on her heart so strong that Selena disbelievingly placed a palm against the thunderous beating in her chest to reassure herself that the organ hadn’t been jerked out. The girl had turned over wordlessly, willing the person outside her door to just leave. The next series of impatient knocks brought Selena’s gaze back to the door, her heart constricting and pounding almost painfully against her ribs.
Selena dragged her tired body out of the bed, pulling open the door fully prepared to politely suggest to the person outside the door to get lost. However, when the person who had beckoned Selena stood in front of her, wringing her hands in nervous anticipation, Selena could only find herself stumbling backwards. It hadn’t mattered though. Demi easily caught the weak-kneed Selena in her arms, letting out a soft chuckle as she held Selena close to her body and pressed her lips against her hair. Their hearts paced themselves until they beat as one, in tune with their other half once again. The tears that graced both sets of deep brown eyes so often made their way down their path once more, this time accompanied with matching hopeful smiles.
Demi had traced Selena’s cheek, broken confessions of similar nights and countless apologies filling the space between them. As much Selena rationally knew she shouldn’t, Selena tilted her head, firmly pressing her face against Demi’s hand. A sigh of contentment escaped into the air, neither girl certain from whom it had come, contrasting sharply with the harsh whisper of confusion escaping into the air from Selena’s lips, demanding an answer to explain Demi’s presence.
“You told me to come back home, Selena. You should know by now that my home is wherever you are."
It only took two sentences for Demi to win Selena over again, but then again, Demi had always had a hypnotizing way with words. Even so, if anyone had scrutinized Selena’s behavior and actions close enough, they would have known without a doubt that the girl had never given up on her love for even one second.
Their lips met then, desperately, almost violently, as Selena suddenly took hold of the musician’s face and reeled her in. She breathed Demetria Devonne Lovato into herself, slumping against her, the exhaustion accumulated over the past few months finally overwhelming her thin frame. Demi caught her as she fell, as she always would. maneuvered the frail girl towards the bed and under the covers before slipping between the frigid sheets herself and enveloping Selena protectively in her arms. Her eyes welled up, a strangled cry rising in her chest at how thin Selena had become. That would have to change.
While caught in a state between consciousness and suspension, Selena had looked up at Demi through her long, thick eyelashes, placed a chaste kiss on the corner of the other girl’s mouth, and snuggled deeper into the musician’s embrace, a soft succession of slurred syllables whispered into the dark.
“God, Dem… What took you so long?”
It had been a single question. A simple one, even. But that was all it took to shatter Demi. The musician took in a shaky gasp, sagging in relief when she felt Selena’s warm breath even out against her neck in the soft throws of slumber. She had been spared tonight.
Demi drifted off not much later, comforted that the world was finally in her arms again, even as everything else in her shambles of a life was crashing down around her. a small voice in the back of her mind spurred to murmur by Selena’s question-though still much too quiet to be heard-nagging that this was not the end of the discussion, and therefore, that this was certainly not the end of her pain.
Author: sleepy-writer08 ...and maybe sort of thebubblyterror
Pairing: Demi Lovato/Selena Gomez
Summary: You should know by now that my home is wherever you are.
Disclaimer: THEY ARE NOT OURS. OBVIOUSLY. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. If they did belong to us, sexy time would be all the time, no horse faced boys would dare intrude, and they would never, ever be apart, physically or emotionally.
AN: I DIDN'T WRITE THIS. NO MATTER HOW MUCH sleepy-writer08 INSISTS THAT I DID SOMETHING TO IT, THIS MAGNIFICENT PIECE OF WORK IS ALL HERS. She also insisted that we post it here, instead of bouncing back and forth between our journals. So. That is why this is here. Right. Oh, duh, none of that makes any sense to anyone but me. Basically, I wrote the first part as a one shot aaaages ago, and then she wrote me back. ♥ Sweet of her, right? Wrong. She bribed me into continuing. I bribed her into agreeing to write it with me. So, give her love, seeing as she's fucking amazing. (Wow. Just realized that me writing the AN on this makes absolutely no sense. Sorry, guys.)
God, she had no clue how wrong she was.
She was convinced she could survive without something that had disappeared from her life. She had sworn to herself that it would have no effect on her, she was already so broken. The tears that once only snuck their way down in rare moments of weakness have marked paths along her face in near permanent stains. Cold and alone, Selena was the only one there to feel them slip agonizingly away, burning the skin all the way down.
Selena had, in a manner which became second nature just as effortlessly as walking--or even, to take the illusion a step further, the ease in which loving her had always taken--concealed her emotions from the world. She hid behind a façade, a painted mask of happiness and contentment, while each day, each single moment, chipped another part of her aching soul away for eternity.
Circles embedded beneath Selena’s eyes had also become a frequent sight. Make-up artists would frequently express their concern, but eventually, they learned from caustic remarks and icy glares that it was not their task to question the dark circles, but only to obscure them, just as the once exuberant Selena had been obscured by a more cynical one.
Disney had not been happy with this change, that much had been made clear on several occasions and meetings with the young star. However, Selena had sat unmoving through each request, threat, and ultimatum the corporation had thrown at her. She knew her worth to the company and the job security her legions of fans provided her with, so worry for herself was the last thing on her mind. Ultimately, Disney was forced to settle with what Selena could provide: satisfied parents and more importantly, an exponentially increasing flow of money. To cut to the quick of it, Selena was the most naturally talented actress they had signed in recent years, if not ever, and keeping even the empty shell of what she once was would have to do. Losing her would be like losing everything now.
Just as bright mornings revealed a hard working star, late nights found a heartbroken Selena in front of a computer screen, gazing at someone who had once been in her grasp, only to be what felt like physically ripped out of her embrace and thrust in a world that picked at the her deep wounds in her heart, drained her until she was hollow and broken, left alone to crawl home. Home, even, was a relative term, seeing that without her, it was just an empty house. Selena had long since taken down the pictures and memories, leaving the walls of her room picked dry, like a bleached skeleton in the desert. Once, when the pain wasn't so bad, she had entertained the notion of whitewashing the walls they had painted and doodled on, just to complete the metaphor, but she could never muster the energy to do so. Selena’s eyes would flutter closed at these thoughts, the familiar sharp prickle behind them signaling another oncoming breakdown. Despite her attempts at pushing all thoughts of their relationship behind her, a single headline imprinted itself on the inside of her lids, glaring at and mocking her. The tattooed older brother had become the tattooed older boyfriend; the flirty girls on the verge of becoming Selena’s replacement.
Tears squeezed past the feeble barrier, slipping into their known trek, and Selena willed herself away to another time, a time where the world had seemed to revolve around Demi Lovato and herself. The unabashed hands, the roaming lips, and whispered confessions of love drove Selena mad, her head swimming from the memories of forgotten pasts. A single crooked line had been the result that night. Selena had been unable to stop herself, not only curiosity, but also the enticing promise of being pain free had forced her to lift the razor and graze it along her skin. It had been an interesting sensation, though she was too careful to draw blood or leave a scarring reminder. Opening her weary eyes, Selena had seen the picture evident on the screen: Demi's arm around the man’s neck, his lips and stubble pressing against her cheek. Then there was the gasp that had escaped into the silent room, the small clattering of the sharp razor hitting the wood, and the blood surfacing from the ripped skin and ruptured vessels. Selena watched in morbid fascination as the sticky substance, redder than anything she had seen before, formed an intricate yet sloppy pattern along the expanse of skin.
It had been Dallas who had discovered her. It had been Dallas who had bandaged Selena’s wrist wordlessly. Selena never learned what had brought the eldest Lovato child about that evening, but she had been grateful for the questions that had been left unasked and buried.
That night had been the night that things changed. Selena became a workaholic, throwing her entire self into her career, while wading deeper into her depression every night. By this time in her career, Selena had become an expected guest at every charity event, each award show, and every single fan meeting. Now, she attended upon one condition. Demi's presence must already have been guaranteed elsewhere. Selena was missing from any event that required a confrontation of any kind. Demi, however, was a constant sight at these events. This had not gone unnoticed by the media. The headlines were torturous in Selena’s opinion. Rumors, speculation, and blatant lies of what had happened between the two girls wore down at the wall Selena had built around herself. It was not long before Selena learned to let the questions roll off her back. She carried herself with a lost gracefulness and answered with vague yet oddly satisfying replies. She still couldn’t pretend she didn’t notice Demi's insistent "no comment" on any question involving her, but the actress could hold off on the imaginative possibilities that her over-active mind produced until she was alone in the darkness.
Eventually, one headline took things too far. It had not been about Demi and Selena’s relationship; no, Selena had long since learned to veil her emotions on that subject, and no reporter would dare go there. This headline had revolved around the breakup between Demi and the tattooed long-faced boy whose name had never been important enough for Selena to learn. It was not the break up that forced Selena out of her silence. The headline that forced Demi into the spotlight was focused on the aftermath of the destruction he left. The one person Selena had learned to pull away from had gone missing. The ache in her heart multiplied tenfold, the dark circles deepened, and her appetite vanished.
Selena’s face was gaunt, her usual lanky form bordering a dangerous thin line. She watched from home as Demi’s family appeared on the news, begging, pleading their daughter to return to them. It was Madison’s tearful request for someone to just bring Demi home that broke the girl. Seeing that was the last straw. She snapped. Selena had stood motionless in front of the microphone the very next day, and upon cue, stared the camera dead in the eye, surprisingly emotionless, a single sentence spoken clearly.
“It’s time to come home, Demi.”
There had been no niceties, no politeness or formality in Selena’s blunt demand. There had been no explanation for the actress’s broken silence. Of course, that was only because immediately after, the girl had turned about-face, walking away from the flashing lights and probing questions with a confidence everyone saw and a broken heart no one had bothered to notice.
Nearly a week later, Selena apologized to Madison late in the evening. There was no news of Demi and Selena felt it to be her responsibility, her failure, for the girl’s missing presence. Although Selena listened as the youngest Lovato insisted the actress had had no fault in this matter, Selena couldn’t help but feel the sting of irony in her little sister's words. That night was not unlike the others, finding Selena in a curled position upon her sheets, tears streaming freely as she blamed herself for the self-destruction Demi had brought upon herself. There had to have been a way to save her, she accused herself, sobs racking her thin frame.
A knock had drawn her out of her reverie, a pull on her heart so strong that Selena disbelievingly placed a palm against the thunderous beating in her chest to reassure herself that the organ hadn’t been jerked out. The girl had turned over wordlessly, willing the person outside her door to just leave. The next series of impatient knocks brought Selena’s gaze back to the door, her heart constricting and pounding almost painfully against her ribs.
Selena dragged her tired body out of the bed, pulling open the door fully prepared to politely suggest to the person outside the door to get lost. However, when the person who had beckoned Selena stood in front of her, wringing her hands in nervous anticipation, Selena could only find herself stumbling backwards. It hadn’t mattered though. Demi easily caught the weak-kneed Selena in her arms, letting out a soft chuckle as she held Selena close to her body and pressed her lips against her hair. Their hearts paced themselves until they beat as one, in tune with their other half once again. The tears that graced both sets of deep brown eyes so often made their way down their path once more, this time accompanied with matching hopeful smiles.
Demi had traced Selena’s cheek, broken confessions of similar nights and countless apologies filling the space between them. As much Selena rationally knew she shouldn’t, Selena tilted her head, firmly pressing her face against Demi’s hand. A sigh of contentment escaped into the air, neither girl certain from whom it had come, contrasting sharply with the harsh whisper of confusion escaping into the air from Selena’s lips, demanding an answer to explain Demi’s presence.
“You told me to come back home, Selena. You should know by now that my home is wherever you are."
It only took two sentences for Demi to win Selena over again, but then again, Demi had always had a hypnotizing way with words. Even so, if anyone had scrutinized Selena’s behavior and actions close enough, they would have known without a doubt that the girl had never given up on her love for even one second.
Their lips met then, desperately, almost violently, as Selena suddenly took hold of the musician’s face and reeled her in. She breathed Demetria Devonne Lovato into herself, slumping against her, the exhaustion accumulated over the past few months finally overwhelming her thin frame. Demi caught her as she fell, as she always would. maneuvered the frail girl towards the bed and under the covers before slipping between the frigid sheets herself and enveloping Selena protectively in her arms. Her eyes welled up, a strangled cry rising in her chest at how thin Selena had become. That would have to change.
While caught in a state between consciousness and suspension, Selena had looked up at Demi through her long, thick eyelashes, placed a chaste kiss on the corner of the other girl’s mouth, and snuggled deeper into the musician’s embrace, a soft succession of slurred syllables whispered into the dark.
“God, Dem… What took you so long?”
It had been a single question. A simple one, even. But that was all it took to shatter Demi. The musician took in a shaky gasp, sagging in relief when she felt Selena’s warm breath even out against her neck in the soft throws of slumber. She had been spared tonight.
Demi drifted off not much later, comforted that the world was finally in her arms again, even as everything else in her shambles of a life was crashing down around her. a small voice in the back of her mind spurred to murmur by Selena’s question-though still much too quiet to be heard-nagging that this was not the end of the discussion, and therefore, that this was certainly not the end of her pain.