London is Calling Part 4/? - Demi Lovato/Selena Gomez - T
Title: London is Calling, Part 4/?
Fandom: Disney RPF
Pairing: Demi/Selena
Rating: T
Words: ~2800
Disclaimer: This is a work of art, not intended for profit or offense. I own no rights to the subjects.
Summary Both girl’s are suffering from the break-up, but Miley and T.Swift are working to heal the rift.
Part One, please
Part Two, please
Part Three, please
listen and/or download: Florence + the Machine - Dog Days Are Over | Read the Lyrics
It’s over, she thinks.
They can’t go back. There’s nothing left of what they were. It’s washing away down the drain, just like the lukewarm water running down Demi’s body in the shower.
All she has are memories of those scorching hot dog days of summer in Puerto Rico, mirroring the burning hot passion they had just recently discovered between them. It was a different feeling, being with Selena. There was only this insane, constantly happy feeling within. It was kind of like living in a haze. Their love burning like a fire, everything else seen through a gasp of hot air, distorted images swaying and floating like a transparent curtain over the blaze.
Without Selena, everything’s a little cold. She remembers London was freezing, despite it being April. Same with New York and Texas. Lying in her bed at night, looking over lyrics and remembering the scenarios that inspired them, her memory slow and wispy like the vapor rising off a chunk of ice.
Demi sucks a strand of hair into her mouth, sucking on the water that cascades down the lock before spitting it out. Her hands are bracing her against the shower as her head hangs beneath the spray, her eyes closed and her breathing a little labored.
She guesses she’ll have to pick herself up and carry on, like she did with all those immature little Texas boys and those brief Hollyweird flings with scene girls. But, she used to have Selena to crash into when those “play dates” would always fall through. She would cry for a while, or get really mad and want to egg their car or slash all their scene tights and shirts. Not this time. It’s different being without Selena.
Demi feels the pads of her fingers begin to swell and wrinkle from overexposure to water; she’s been in here far longer than what is normally required, lost in her thoughts. Today she’s got another long day at the recording studio. Demi both loves and loathes her creative process, because while she’s been writing furiously and changing lyrics and messing with her piano and guitar, she’s also broken down a few times in front of her producers and the artists she’s working with. She’s deathly embarrassed by the whole ordeal, and she’s certain they must secretly think her childish, crying over a meaningless broken heart like the average teenager, adopting a fatalist view of the world in which the love of her life is absent from. End-of-the-world-as-I-know-it syndrome. Demi doesn’t want to be average. Never.
But isn’t that what’s happened? Hasn’t her entire world crumbled because Selena no longer wants any part of it? Shouldn’t the rest of the world be mourning this loss along with her? How can the sun shine every morning when she feels so dark inside?
Demi shakes her head violently and holds her breath under the running water. Now she’s getting metaphorical and emo. Best to quit that.
She sighs heavily before lifting her head and shutting off the water. She doesn’t think she’ll write songs about this, however… they’ll clash with the love songs she’s already penned for Selena.
When Demi has dressed comfortably in her Texas sweatpants and loose shirt, drying her hair as she sits on her bed, her door is opened politely by her older sister Dallas. She tosses a small packaged fruit bowl onto Demi’s bed and grins goofily behind her big designer sunglasses.
“Need an impromptu ride to the studio by your favorite older sister, superstar?”
~!~
Demi knows Dallas is here to talk, as she buckles her seat belt and pops open the fruit bowl. Her sister can be ditzy at times, but when it comes to her family, Dallas has a stubborn protective streak to rival anybody’s. She knows the bare minimum, because she managed to weasel it out of Demi a few days after she got back home. Demi and Selena were together. Now, they’re broken up. Demi’s upset, Selena’s upset. But so far the outside world is none the wiser.
“And you’ve tried calling, texting, all that stuff?”
Demi sighs exasperatedly. “Yea, Dallas, of course I have. And of course none of it’s worked. I sent her a letter too, explaining everything… she’s probably thrown it away… I would,” she scoffs sadly, her eyes downcast as she places a piece of cantaloupe in her mouth. She’s actually put a hamper on contacting Selena, because without Miley with her, the task seemed too daunting to pursue. The few texts she did send were feeble and unconvincing.
Dallas’s lips purse as she keeps her gaze on the road. The next few minutes are silent, as Demi focuses on the view out of the window and slowly chews. The car comes to a stoplight and Dallas lets her hands fall off the wheel with a sigh.
She reaches over and brushes her fingers lightly over Demi’s arm, both testing the waters and grabbing her attention. Demi’s eyes meet hers.
“All right. Now, if I can recall correctly, and this is just guesswork since I don’t have my bar graphs or pie charts with me, but I think this was the longest relationship you’ve ever had. Almost a year, right?”
“Yea… that's’ cuz it was Selena. Everything’s easy with Selena, everything is… everything is right.”
“I know, baby.” Dallas reaches out further to grasp tightly to Demi’s hand as Demi’s eyes turn downcast and cloudy again. “Which is why it’s special. You can’t let this go.” She squeezes, harder, her manicured and pink nails digging into the flesh of Demi’s hand. “Remember how I used to tell you to up and forget all those people that broke your heart over the years?” Demi nods her head slightly.
“I want you to forget all that. Forget everything I ever told you about heartache. This is Selena. Selena is everything that’s right in this world, that girl is something else.” Demi wants to laugh at Dallas’s suddenly flip-flopped philosophy, but she hasn't been able to laugh much anyway, so she lets her sister continue.
“This is not a break up, Demi. This is what us adults like to call, ‘a rough patch.’ ” The older girl’s right hand comes up to splay against her chest as she says “us adults,” earning a small, mocking twitch from Demi’s lips as she replies, “I find it kinda hard to listen to the ‘adult’ who once bite into the plastic fruit at an open house in Burbank when we first moved to LA.” The light turns green and Dallas pulls out faster than she normally would, her hands slapping the wheel.
“Aye, that was a mistake anyone could make! Don’t you know you’re supposed to have food for the clients? Cookies or banana bread or something! It’s like, a real estate rule. Legit.” Dallas feels special and accomplished when she hears Demi’s melodious laugh tumble from her mouth, a sound that has been sadly lacking in the Lovato household for far too long.
“Hey, I’m just saying you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, the sharpest tool in the shed, the prettiest flower in the garden -“ At this Dallas looks shocked and appalled. “Oops, my bad. You are the prettiest flower, Dallas.”
“Thank you,” Dallas nods appreciatively. The tension that permeated the start of the trip has dissipated by now as Dallas turns on the local pop radio station and Demi continues eating her fresh bits of fruit off a neon green plastic sword.
When Demi leans in for a kiss goodbye outside the studio, Dallas brings her in for a tight, few-seconds-too-long hug. Demi relaxes in her sister’s grip for a moment, before pulling back and knocking the sunglasses off her light brown hair so that they bounce down on the bridge of her nose. Dallas makes a face, and she enters the studio for the first time in a long while with a small smile on her face.
~!~~!~
It’s been a few days since Brandon left Canada. Selena was thankful for his visit because for the first time she was able crumble into someone’s arms, someone who, unlike her parents, knew the truth. She was able to explain to her cousin that felt like she’d been put through an acting gauntlet; in front of the camera, her family, the crew and producers, managers, publicists, interviewers - she’d been wearing this mask for so long she’d say it felt fused to her face. She almost cracked in front of her mother over lunch yesterday, but balked and had to pretend to sneeze a few times to explain the wetness in her eyes as allergies.
Brandon has always been a good listener and a great pillow, one that occasional told really lame jokes that Selena had no choice but to chuckle at. After their intense two-hour session, Selena cleaned herself up and they went out for yogurt. It was the first time she felt her smile was a little less forced than usual.
~!~
Selena is tired, and Taylor can tell from 20 feet away, as she greets her fresh from her flight at the airport in Seattle.
They’ve got one day together, and Taylor wastes no time. After the show she hurries them back to her hotel room and breaks out a ziplock bag of her cookies she made when she last had a kitchen.
Selena gives her a skeptical look.
“They’re safe, I promise. I had one earlier.” Selena stays silent, a cookie perched between her thumb and forefinger, unmoving. “I’m not trying to poison you, geez!” Taylor exclaims as she bats Selena on the arm. Selena’s mouth cracks in a smile and she takes a small, but appreciative bite.
Taylor waits until Selena has at least two more cookies down, before she adjusts the glasses on her nose and sits up straight. Her lips purse and she scrutinizes Selena intently. Selena knows what’s up instantly. She sighs heavily before moving up against the pillows at the head of Taylor’s hotel bed, and begins retelling everything she told to Brandon.
This conversation they get themselves into, about life and love, death and loss, family and friends, fans and the world - its something still new in their friendship. Selena always was the intellectual type, but found herself slightly surprised to discover that the lofty, excitable girl that Taylor is was one too, underneath her dorky “excitement dance” and penchant for losing her retainer constantly. Curled up under the comfortable covers, Taylor holding her hand tightly like a lifeline, Selena realizes her heart has managed to rebuild a part of itself. In sharing with Taylor and Brandon, she has started healing.
Taylor leans over and hugs Selena before sitting up and stretching her long arms out to her sides. “Well, I think we’ve learned a lot of important things tonight!”
“And what would those things be, Miss Swift?”
Taylor’s face unexpectedly takes on that scrutinizing affectation again. “There is a solution, which I am adamant that you follow through with. You won’t like it, but this situation we’re in - you’re in, with Demi - It’s different. I know it is.” Selena sits up as well and brings a pillow to her chest, nodding her head for Taylor to continue.
“Next time Demi calls I need you to pick up and listen and be responsive and level-headed,” Taylor pauses as though she wants some dramatic tension to fill the room, “ - else I won’t be your friend anymore.”
Selena’s dumbfounded at the ridiculousness. She wants to laugh, but the stoic face of Taylor chokes her sadistic mirth. The “Solution” Taylor has proposed sounds more like an ultimatum to the actress. Selena opens her mouth, then closes it tight and looks away to the foot of the bed. Her shoulders slump - she gives up. She’s tired of this charade and of Demi being a pain in her neck. Her heart is telling her that her best friend of ten years deserves to be heard. Secretly, she’s glad she finally hears her heart speaking again.
Selena looks back at Taylor and reaches for her hand, shaking it professionally as if sealing the deal, “All right. We’re agreed.” Taylor smiles warmly and adjusts her glasses again while nodding firmly.
“Other things I have learned tonight, include such things as: my cookies are an amazingly persuasive comfort food… and that Seattle and Selena both begin with ‘se,’ “ Taylor announces proudly.
Selena’s mouth quirks in a way very reminiscent of the sassy wizard she hasn’t had the pleasure of playing for several months. “Well, that’s a pearl of wisdom right there. A Twitter gem, some modern media analysts might say.”
“Oooh you’re right!” Taylor exclaims and goes to her laptop to type out the message. And on insistence from Taylor, Selena opens up Twitter from her Blackberry and makes a sincere message of what she’s learned tonight as well:
There are two things I learned tonight. 1) I have such an amazing friend 2) love, friendship, work, family and fans are Fearless.
~!~~!~
Demi thinks maybe she and Selena both need some space (how much more space do you need when you’re in a different country?). But she has been on Twitter a fair bit more, grateful for the love that her fans show her constantly, every hour from all over the globe. She sends Selena a few tweets, “I miss you”’s and such, and Selena surprisingly responds to a few of them. But Demi knows it’s just part of her façade. She’s doing it for the fans, like always. It’s just another promotion, like a wizard’s shoot or an update on the movie.
She’s having a particularly unproductive afternoon in her room one day when Miley barges in, all business, speaking feverishly in her Tennessee accent about having a long chat with Taylor, and coming up with a solution, and something about truth cookies. She kneels in front of Demi at her desk, hands on her knees directing her swivel chair to face her.
“Demi, listen to me. Now, I know you’re basically Disney’s version of the ‘tortured artist’ or whatever, and you get a lot of inspiration from being heartbroken an' down, but this ain't one of those times.” Demi opens her mouth to object but Miley shushes her. “This ain't some silly LA rocker scene boy with tight pants and AXE body spray! This is Selena. SE-LE-NA!” Miley hits Demi hard on the shoulder with each syllable to help drive her point. Demi winces. Miley then rubs the spot she hit.
“There’s not much more to say 'cause I know she's your everythan'.”
Demi loses herself in the captivating, stormy, grey-blue eyes boring deeply into her. She lets Miley’s words wash over her. She sees what a wreck she has become, the tiredness seeping through her every pore.
Before all this happened Demi used to feel addicted to that shine in Miley’s eyes. She loved seeing her eyes smile since her mouth just couldn't do the job alone because she always had so much joy trying to burst out of her. She remembers London, the premiere, when Miley first spotted her coming down the carpet. Miley’s heroin eyes lit up like a bonfire and Demi felt that high instantly.
But where before she might have fallen deeper and deeper and felt herself float higher and higher, now she simply simmers in the warm glow. She recognizes the love of a friend that truly cares for her. She moves to embrace Miley, but the girl shoots up and rushes to the side of Demi’s bed. She rips her cell phone from the wall charger and practically shoves it in Demi’s face.
“I wan'cha to call Selena, right now. You can’t hide from her, or the world forever, and I’m tired of doing the work for ya.” Demi balks and can’t speak, but her eyes water. “I’m here for you Demi, but ya have to stand up and fight for her on your own. It’s the only thing that’s gonna convince her you want her back.”
Demi takes hold of the phone, but still looks to Miley for guidance. Miley’s smile turns reassuring and she places a hand on her arm. “You’re her weakness - if anyone can break through this wall she’s built up, it’s you. Me an’ Tay have been chippin’ at it, but it ain’t gonna come crashing down till we get the wrecking ball in there, ya get it?”
Demi breathes in a shaky breath, but releases calm. She steels herself under Miley’s gaze. “I get it.”
“Good. Now, dial.”
Demi does just that, with no hesitation. But as she hears the rings through static, she is reminded of that night in London, when the ringing seemed to make her heart speed up to match the beat.
The line picks up. It’s silent for a beat. Then -
“Selena… ?”
“… Demi.”
~to be continuned
Fandom: Disney RPF
Pairing: Demi/Selena
Rating: T
Words: ~2800
Disclaimer: This is a work of art, not intended for profit or offense. I own no rights to the subjects.
Summary Both girl’s are suffering from the break-up, but Miley and T.Swift are working to heal the rift.
Part One, please
Part Two, please
Part Three, please
listen and/or download: Florence + the Machine - Dog Days Are Over | Read the Lyrics
It’s over, she thinks.
They can’t go back. There’s nothing left of what they were. It’s washing away down the drain, just like the lukewarm water running down Demi’s body in the shower.
All she has are memories of those scorching hot dog days of summer in Puerto Rico, mirroring the burning hot passion they had just recently discovered between them. It was a different feeling, being with Selena. There was only this insane, constantly happy feeling within. It was kind of like living in a haze. Their love burning like a fire, everything else seen through a gasp of hot air, distorted images swaying and floating like a transparent curtain over the blaze.
Without Selena, everything’s a little cold. She remembers London was freezing, despite it being April. Same with New York and Texas. Lying in her bed at night, looking over lyrics and remembering the scenarios that inspired them, her memory slow and wispy like the vapor rising off a chunk of ice.
Demi sucks a strand of hair into her mouth, sucking on the water that cascades down the lock before spitting it out. Her hands are bracing her against the shower as her head hangs beneath the spray, her eyes closed and her breathing a little labored.
She guesses she’ll have to pick herself up and carry on, like she did with all those immature little Texas boys and those brief Hollyweird flings with scene girls. But, she used to have Selena to crash into when those “play dates” would always fall through. She would cry for a while, or get really mad and want to egg their car or slash all their scene tights and shirts. Not this time. It’s different being without Selena.
Demi feels the pads of her fingers begin to swell and wrinkle from overexposure to water; she’s been in here far longer than what is normally required, lost in her thoughts. Today she’s got another long day at the recording studio. Demi both loves and loathes her creative process, because while she’s been writing furiously and changing lyrics and messing with her piano and guitar, she’s also broken down a few times in front of her producers and the artists she’s working with. She’s deathly embarrassed by the whole ordeal, and she’s certain they must secretly think her childish, crying over a meaningless broken heart like the average teenager, adopting a fatalist view of the world in which the love of her life is absent from. End-of-the-world-as-I-know-it syndrome. Demi doesn’t want to be average. Never.
But isn’t that what’s happened? Hasn’t her entire world crumbled because Selena no longer wants any part of it? Shouldn’t the rest of the world be mourning this loss along with her? How can the sun shine every morning when she feels so dark inside?
Demi shakes her head violently and holds her breath under the running water. Now she’s getting metaphorical and emo. Best to quit that.
She sighs heavily before lifting her head and shutting off the water. She doesn’t think she’ll write songs about this, however… they’ll clash with the love songs she’s already penned for Selena.
When Demi has dressed comfortably in her Texas sweatpants and loose shirt, drying her hair as she sits on her bed, her door is opened politely by her older sister Dallas. She tosses a small packaged fruit bowl onto Demi’s bed and grins goofily behind her big designer sunglasses.
“Need an impromptu ride to the studio by your favorite older sister, superstar?”
~!~
Demi knows Dallas is here to talk, as she buckles her seat belt and pops open the fruit bowl. Her sister can be ditzy at times, but when it comes to her family, Dallas has a stubborn protective streak to rival anybody’s. She knows the bare minimum, because she managed to weasel it out of Demi a few days after she got back home. Demi and Selena were together. Now, they’re broken up. Demi’s upset, Selena’s upset. But so far the outside world is none the wiser.
“And you’ve tried calling, texting, all that stuff?”
Demi sighs exasperatedly. “Yea, Dallas, of course I have. And of course none of it’s worked. I sent her a letter too, explaining everything… she’s probably thrown it away… I would,” she scoffs sadly, her eyes downcast as she places a piece of cantaloupe in her mouth. She’s actually put a hamper on contacting Selena, because without Miley with her, the task seemed too daunting to pursue. The few texts she did send were feeble and unconvincing.
Dallas’s lips purse as she keeps her gaze on the road. The next few minutes are silent, as Demi focuses on the view out of the window and slowly chews. The car comes to a stoplight and Dallas lets her hands fall off the wheel with a sigh.
She reaches over and brushes her fingers lightly over Demi’s arm, both testing the waters and grabbing her attention. Demi’s eyes meet hers.
“All right. Now, if I can recall correctly, and this is just guesswork since I don’t have my bar graphs or pie charts with me, but I think this was the longest relationship you’ve ever had. Almost a year, right?”
“Yea… that's’ cuz it was Selena. Everything’s easy with Selena, everything is… everything is right.”
“I know, baby.” Dallas reaches out further to grasp tightly to Demi’s hand as Demi’s eyes turn downcast and cloudy again. “Which is why it’s special. You can’t let this go.” She squeezes, harder, her manicured and pink nails digging into the flesh of Demi’s hand. “Remember how I used to tell you to up and forget all those people that broke your heart over the years?” Demi nods her head slightly.
“I want you to forget all that. Forget everything I ever told you about heartache. This is Selena. Selena is everything that’s right in this world, that girl is something else.” Demi wants to laugh at Dallas’s suddenly flip-flopped philosophy, but she hasn't been able to laugh much anyway, so she lets her sister continue.
“This is not a break up, Demi. This is what us adults like to call, ‘a rough patch.’ ” The older girl’s right hand comes up to splay against her chest as she says “us adults,” earning a small, mocking twitch from Demi’s lips as she replies, “I find it kinda hard to listen to the ‘adult’ who once bite into the plastic fruit at an open house in Burbank when we first moved to LA.” The light turns green and Dallas pulls out faster than she normally would, her hands slapping the wheel.
“Aye, that was a mistake anyone could make! Don’t you know you’re supposed to have food for the clients? Cookies or banana bread or something! It’s like, a real estate rule. Legit.” Dallas feels special and accomplished when she hears Demi’s melodious laugh tumble from her mouth, a sound that has been sadly lacking in the Lovato household for far too long.
“Hey, I’m just saying you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, the sharpest tool in the shed, the prettiest flower in the garden -“ At this Dallas looks shocked and appalled. “Oops, my bad. You are the prettiest flower, Dallas.”
“Thank you,” Dallas nods appreciatively. The tension that permeated the start of the trip has dissipated by now as Dallas turns on the local pop radio station and Demi continues eating her fresh bits of fruit off a neon green plastic sword.
When Demi leans in for a kiss goodbye outside the studio, Dallas brings her in for a tight, few-seconds-too-long hug. Demi relaxes in her sister’s grip for a moment, before pulling back and knocking the sunglasses off her light brown hair so that they bounce down on the bridge of her nose. Dallas makes a face, and she enters the studio for the first time in a long while with a small smile on her face.
~!~~!~
It’s been a few days since Brandon left Canada. Selena was thankful for his visit because for the first time she was able crumble into someone’s arms, someone who, unlike her parents, knew the truth. She was able to explain to her cousin that felt like she’d been put through an acting gauntlet; in front of the camera, her family, the crew and producers, managers, publicists, interviewers - she’d been wearing this mask for so long she’d say it felt fused to her face. She almost cracked in front of her mother over lunch yesterday, but balked and had to pretend to sneeze a few times to explain the wetness in her eyes as allergies.
Brandon has always been a good listener and a great pillow, one that occasional told really lame jokes that Selena had no choice but to chuckle at. After their intense two-hour session, Selena cleaned herself up and they went out for yogurt. It was the first time she felt her smile was a little less forced than usual.
~!~
Selena is tired, and Taylor can tell from 20 feet away, as she greets her fresh from her flight at the airport in Seattle.
They’ve got one day together, and Taylor wastes no time. After the show she hurries them back to her hotel room and breaks out a ziplock bag of her cookies she made when she last had a kitchen.
Selena gives her a skeptical look.
“They’re safe, I promise. I had one earlier.” Selena stays silent, a cookie perched between her thumb and forefinger, unmoving. “I’m not trying to poison you, geez!” Taylor exclaims as she bats Selena on the arm. Selena’s mouth cracks in a smile and she takes a small, but appreciative bite.
Taylor waits until Selena has at least two more cookies down, before she adjusts the glasses on her nose and sits up straight. Her lips purse and she scrutinizes Selena intently. Selena knows what’s up instantly. She sighs heavily before moving up against the pillows at the head of Taylor’s hotel bed, and begins retelling everything she told to Brandon.
This conversation they get themselves into, about life and love, death and loss, family and friends, fans and the world - its something still new in their friendship. Selena always was the intellectual type, but found herself slightly surprised to discover that the lofty, excitable girl that Taylor is was one too, underneath her dorky “excitement dance” and penchant for losing her retainer constantly. Curled up under the comfortable covers, Taylor holding her hand tightly like a lifeline, Selena realizes her heart has managed to rebuild a part of itself. In sharing with Taylor and Brandon, she has started healing.
Taylor leans over and hugs Selena before sitting up and stretching her long arms out to her sides. “Well, I think we’ve learned a lot of important things tonight!”
“And what would those things be, Miss Swift?”
Taylor’s face unexpectedly takes on that scrutinizing affectation again. “There is a solution, which I am adamant that you follow through with. You won’t like it, but this situation we’re in - you’re in, with Demi - It’s different. I know it is.” Selena sits up as well and brings a pillow to her chest, nodding her head for Taylor to continue.
“Next time Demi calls I need you to pick up and listen and be responsive and level-headed,” Taylor pauses as though she wants some dramatic tension to fill the room, “ - else I won’t be your friend anymore.”
Selena’s dumbfounded at the ridiculousness. She wants to laugh, but the stoic face of Taylor chokes her sadistic mirth. The “Solution” Taylor has proposed sounds more like an ultimatum to the actress. Selena opens her mouth, then closes it tight and looks away to the foot of the bed. Her shoulders slump - she gives up. She’s tired of this charade and of Demi being a pain in her neck. Her heart is telling her that her best friend of ten years deserves to be heard. Secretly, she’s glad she finally hears her heart speaking again.
Selena looks back at Taylor and reaches for her hand, shaking it professionally as if sealing the deal, “All right. We’re agreed.” Taylor smiles warmly and adjusts her glasses again while nodding firmly.
“Other things I have learned tonight, include such things as: my cookies are an amazingly persuasive comfort food… and that Seattle and Selena both begin with ‘se,’ “ Taylor announces proudly.
Selena’s mouth quirks in a way very reminiscent of the sassy wizard she hasn’t had the pleasure of playing for several months. “Well, that’s a pearl of wisdom right there. A Twitter gem, some modern media analysts might say.”
“Oooh you’re right!” Taylor exclaims and goes to her laptop to type out the message. And on insistence from Taylor, Selena opens up Twitter from her Blackberry and makes a sincere message of what she’s learned tonight as well:
There are two things I learned tonight. 1) I have such an amazing friend 2) love, friendship, work, family and fans are Fearless.
~!~~!~
Demi thinks maybe she and Selena both need some space (how much more space do you need when you’re in a different country?). But she has been on Twitter a fair bit more, grateful for the love that her fans show her constantly, every hour from all over the globe. She sends Selena a few tweets, “I miss you”’s and such, and Selena surprisingly responds to a few of them. But Demi knows it’s just part of her façade. She’s doing it for the fans, like always. It’s just another promotion, like a wizard’s shoot or an update on the movie.
She’s having a particularly unproductive afternoon in her room one day when Miley barges in, all business, speaking feverishly in her Tennessee accent about having a long chat with Taylor, and coming up with a solution, and something about truth cookies. She kneels in front of Demi at her desk, hands on her knees directing her swivel chair to face her.
“Demi, listen to me. Now, I know you’re basically Disney’s version of the ‘tortured artist’ or whatever, and you get a lot of inspiration from being heartbroken an' down, but this ain't one of those times.” Demi opens her mouth to object but Miley shushes her. “This ain't some silly LA rocker scene boy with tight pants and AXE body spray! This is Selena. SE-LE-NA!” Miley hits Demi hard on the shoulder with each syllable to help drive her point. Demi winces. Miley then rubs the spot she hit.
“There’s not much more to say 'cause I know she's your everythan'.”
Demi loses herself in the captivating, stormy, grey-blue eyes boring deeply into her. She lets Miley’s words wash over her. She sees what a wreck she has become, the tiredness seeping through her every pore.
Before all this happened Demi used to feel addicted to that shine in Miley’s eyes. She loved seeing her eyes smile since her mouth just couldn't do the job alone because she always had so much joy trying to burst out of her. She remembers London, the premiere, when Miley first spotted her coming down the carpet. Miley’s heroin eyes lit up like a bonfire and Demi felt that high instantly.
But where before she might have fallen deeper and deeper and felt herself float higher and higher, now she simply simmers in the warm glow. She recognizes the love of a friend that truly cares for her. She moves to embrace Miley, but the girl shoots up and rushes to the side of Demi’s bed. She rips her cell phone from the wall charger and practically shoves it in Demi’s face.
“I wan'cha to call Selena, right now. You can’t hide from her, or the world forever, and I’m tired of doing the work for ya.” Demi balks and can’t speak, but her eyes water. “I’m here for you Demi, but ya have to stand up and fight for her on your own. It’s the only thing that’s gonna convince her you want her back.”
Demi takes hold of the phone, but still looks to Miley for guidance. Miley’s smile turns reassuring and she places a hand on her arm. “You’re her weakness - if anyone can break through this wall she’s built up, it’s you. Me an’ Tay have been chippin’ at it, but it ain’t gonna come crashing down till we get the wrecking ball in there, ya get it?”
Demi breathes in a shaky breath, but releases calm. She steels herself under Miley’s gaze. “I get it.”
“Good. Now, dial.”
Demi does just that, with no hesitation. But as she hears the rings through static, she is reminded of that night in London, when the ringing seemed to make her heart speed up to match the beat.
The line picks up. It’s silent for a beat. Then -
“Selena… ?”
“… Demi.”
~to be continuned