Demi/Selena - Take the Pain Out of Love (And Love Won't Exist) (Oneshot)
Title: Take the Pain Out of Love (And Love Won't Exist)
Character/Pairing: Demi/Selena (femslash)
Rating: PG (slight language)
Summary: And she wonders what the hell she was thinking anyway, telling her best friend that she was in love with her.
Word Count: 967
Disclaimer: I own nothing and this is entirely fictitious. The title was taken from the song Everything We Had by The Academy Is...
It still makes her head pound with ache when she thinks about it. Her throat constricts and her stomach knots in a way that is not at all good or comforting or exciting. She feels like tears might be brewing behind her eyes and she just wants to forget it all. If only it was that simple, and she could will herself to not think about it. Then she could get over it.
And she wonders what the hell she was thinking anyway, telling her best friend that she was in love with her. Nobody in their right mind would do that unless they were sure their friend would reciprocate their feelings. Because if you’re not sure you end up alone, feeling miserable and stupid, sitting at a bar trying to replace said friend with the bartender. And it’s not even working because he’s looking at you like you are kind of pathetic. Which is true, really.
Demi sighs and takes another sip of her drink, enjoying the slight burning she feels as it glides down her throat. And she thinks how she shouldn’t even be here right now because she has things to do. Like write a song or pack for wherever it is she’s going next, and it has been three months already. She needs to be over it.
She begins to trace the lines in the wooden counter and tries to think of words that rhyme with Selena, but all she can think about is how her name rhymes with pickles and adorable and sleepovers and twister, but it really doesn’t. So it’s not working. And it doesn’t matter anyway, because there is no way in hell she’d ever be able to record it or tell the whole entire world about how Selena broke her heart. Not that she wants the whole world looking at her like the bartender is.
When she hears the little ting of the bell that signals someone has entered or exited the bar, she doesn’t bother to look up. But her shoulders tighten and she swears she smells Selena’s shampoo.
And before she can even get past thinking about the smell of Selena’s shampoo, Selena sits next to her and Demi knows this, just knows, because, well, they were best friends.
“A shot please. And one for her.” Demi feels Selena gesture in her direction and finally looks at her best friend, who is just kind of picking at her nail polish, and Demi wonders if Selena had a photoshoot or something recently.
Demi opens her mouth as if she has something to say, but closes it a second later when she realizes she doesn’t. All she can do, really, is stare at Selena, feeling her cheeks flush and wonder how the hell Selena found her and why she actually wanted to.
When the bartender puts the little glasses down in front of them he raises his eyebrows at Demi and she sort of feels like a moron. But then she sees Selena quickly gulp down all the liquid in her glass and turn to face her. And Demi can’t possibly think when Selena’s dark eyes are on her, all she can do is feel.
“I google you everyday to see if there’s any news,” she chuckles, but she doesn’t sound at all amused.
Then Selena looks at her expectantly, so Demi drinks her shot and confuses, “I’m constantly looking at my phone hoping you called or sent a text. I’m always worried it might have broken and you won’t be able to reach me.”
And before she knows what’s going on they keep ordering shots and drinking them and telling some truth that is totally pathetic or heartbreaking.
“I used to think of what kissing you would be like when we snuggled before falling asleep,” Demi whispers, feeling slightly dizzy from all the alcohol.
“I used to wish you were a boy because that would make everything easier,” Selena counters. And it’s pretty obvious what she means but Demi doesn’t want to get her hopes up. Especially since Selena is a little tipsy, and well, so is she.
But it’s not really like she’s in control here. Because, honestly, it’s up to Selena what happens next, which makes Demi feel itchy and bouncy and anxious. And Selena doesn’t even give Demi a chance to say something else, and she doesn’t take another shot before breathing out, “I really want to kiss you,” in a voice that is lower than Demi expected.
“Me too.”
It seems like she gave Selena permission, but that’s not right. Or maybe it is, thinking is hurting her head. And then Selena is leaning in and her hair is brushing lightly against Demi’s collarbone and she feels like she can’t breathe, except now it’s in a good way, the best way. The knot in her stomach unravels and pesky little butterflies are fluttering this way and that way.
When Selena’s lips finally crash into hers they are soft and learning and tender. Demi feels as though it’s quite possible she will fall off her bar stool. But Selena leans into her and she tastes like pickles and adorable and sleepovers and twister, and maybe a little like alcohol. Okay, definitely a little like alcohol.
And Demi can’t really explain it, but it’s in the way Selena is slightly nibbling on her lower lip to get her to open her mouth and the way she’s running her hand through Demi’s hair that makes Demi feel like this is not some drunken mistake. And she’s surprised at how painful it all is, but the pain is no longer unwelcome. And she knows Selena didn’t track her down as one last or goodbye or just to get her friend back.
And Demi doesn’t feel so pathetic anymore.
Character/Pairing: Demi/Selena (femslash)
Rating: PG (slight language)
Summary: And she wonders what the hell she was thinking anyway, telling her best friend that she was in love with her.
Word Count: 967
Disclaimer: I own nothing and this is entirely fictitious. The title was taken from the song Everything We Had by The Academy Is...
It still makes her head pound with ache when she thinks about it. Her throat constricts and her stomach knots in a way that is not at all good or comforting or exciting. She feels like tears might be brewing behind her eyes and she just wants to forget it all. If only it was that simple, and she could will herself to not think about it. Then she could get over it.
And she wonders what the hell she was thinking anyway, telling her best friend that she was in love with her. Nobody in their right mind would do that unless they were sure their friend would reciprocate their feelings. Because if you’re not sure you end up alone, feeling miserable and stupid, sitting at a bar trying to replace said friend with the bartender. And it’s not even working because he’s looking at you like you are kind of pathetic. Which is true, really.
Demi sighs and takes another sip of her drink, enjoying the slight burning she feels as it glides down her throat. And she thinks how she shouldn’t even be here right now because she has things to do. Like write a song or pack for wherever it is she’s going next, and it has been three months already. She needs to be over it.
She begins to trace the lines in the wooden counter and tries to think of words that rhyme with Selena, but all she can think about is how her name rhymes with pickles and adorable and sleepovers and twister, but it really doesn’t. So it’s not working. And it doesn’t matter anyway, because there is no way in hell she’d ever be able to record it or tell the whole entire world about how Selena broke her heart. Not that she wants the whole world looking at her like the bartender is.
When she hears the little ting of the bell that signals someone has entered or exited the bar, she doesn’t bother to look up. But her shoulders tighten and she swears she smells Selena’s shampoo.
And before she can even get past thinking about the smell of Selena’s shampoo, Selena sits next to her and Demi knows this, just knows, because, well, they were best friends.
“A shot please. And one for her.” Demi feels Selena gesture in her direction and finally looks at her best friend, who is just kind of picking at her nail polish, and Demi wonders if Selena had a photoshoot or something recently.
Demi opens her mouth as if she has something to say, but closes it a second later when she realizes she doesn’t. All she can do, really, is stare at Selena, feeling her cheeks flush and wonder how the hell Selena found her and why she actually wanted to.
When the bartender puts the little glasses down in front of them he raises his eyebrows at Demi and she sort of feels like a moron. But then she sees Selena quickly gulp down all the liquid in her glass and turn to face her. And Demi can’t possibly think when Selena’s dark eyes are on her, all she can do is feel.
“I google you everyday to see if there’s any news,” she chuckles, but she doesn’t sound at all amused.
Then Selena looks at her expectantly, so Demi drinks her shot and confuses, “I’m constantly looking at my phone hoping you called or sent a text. I’m always worried it might have broken and you won’t be able to reach me.”
And before she knows what’s going on they keep ordering shots and drinking them and telling some truth that is totally pathetic or heartbreaking.
“I used to think of what kissing you would be like when we snuggled before falling asleep,” Demi whispers, feeling slightly dizzy from all the alcohol.
“I used to wish you were a boy because that would make everything easier,” Selena counters. And it’s pretty obvious what she means but Demi doesn’t want to get her hopes up. Especially since Selena is a little tipsy, and well, so is she.
But it’s not really like she’s in control here. Because, honestly, it’s up to Selena what happens next, which makes Demi feel itchy and bouncy and anxious. And Selena doesn’t even give Demi a chance to say something else, and she doesn’t take another shot before breathing out, “I really want to kiss you,” in a voice that is lower than Demi expected.
“Me too.”
It seems like she gave Selena permission, but that’s not right. Or maybe it is, thinking is hurting her head. And then Selena is leaning in and her hair is brushing lightly against Demi’s collarbone and she feels like she can’t breathe, except now it’s in a good way, the best way. The knot in her stomach unravels and pesky little butterflies are fluttering this way and that way.
When Selena’s lips finally crash into hers they are soft and learning and tender. Demi feels as though it’s quite possible she will fall off her bar stool. But Selena leans into her and she tastes like pickles and adorable and sleepovers and twister, and maybe a little like alcohol. Okay, definitely a little like alcohol.
And Demi can’t really explain it, but it’s in the way Selena is slightly nibbling on her lower lip to get her to open her mouth and the way she’s running her hand through Demi’s hair that makes Demi feel like this is not some drunken mistake. And she’s surprised at how painful it all is, but the pain is no longer unwelcome. And she knows Selena didn’t track her down as one last or goodbye or just to get her friend back.
And Demi doesn’t feel so pathetic anymore.