But I'm Different (A Demi Lovato Fanfiction)

Chapter: Echoes That Aren't Mine

I don't know what time it was, but it was still early-the kind of early where the sun hasn't fully woken up yet, just peeking in through the curtains like it's checking if the world's ready for the day. I was warm. Wrapped in soft blankets that didn't smell like bleach or old linen, but like lavender and something sweet... maybe vanilla. Demi's perfume.

The dream still clung to me like fog. Taylor Swift. Meet and greet. She was talking to me, looking right at me like I mattered.

Then it all broke apart like glass shattering when-

"SABRINA! SABRINA! WAKE UP!"

I shot upright, heart in my throat, mind scrambled and limbs tense. The sound of Demi's voice was sharp but full of concern. Her hands gripped my arms lightly, but even through the blanket I could feel the pressure of her fingers echoing in my skin. The mirror-touch synesthesia always hit strongest when I wasn't ready for it. It wasn't pain this time-just that uncanny weight of someone else's worry crawling across my chest.

"I'm up," I gasped, voice scratchy and dazed. "I'm fine. I just... it was a dream."

Demi looked pale in the dim light, her eyebrows drawn together like they were arguing. "You screamed, sweetheart. I thought something happened."

I blinked, finally catching my breath, the lingering heat of her touch slowly fading from my body like it always did. "It wasn't a nightmare. I was dreaming about meeting Taylor Swift." I gave her a sleepy smile, trying to lighten the mood. "You can relax. I was just fangirling in my sleep."

Demi exhaled, sitting back slightly with her hand still hovering like she didn't trust the moment to be over. "You scared me, Sab. But I guess if you were dreaming about Taylor, I'll forgive you."

"I promise, I wasn't being murdered in my dreams. Just overwhelmed by glitter and high-pitched happiness."

She chuckled-soft, genuine. "You Swifties are something else."

"I'm not even a full Swiftie," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. "I'm more of a casual fan with intense feelings."

Demi shook her head with a small laugh and stood up, tugging the blankets off me. "Well, now that you're awake and not dying in your sleep, how about some breakfast?"

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "Wait. You cooked?"

"Don't give me that look." She crossed her arms dramatically. "Yes, I cooked. No, the house is not on fire. And no, you do not need to call 911."

"I wasn't going to say that..."

"You were totally going to say that."

I gave a small shrug. "I might've considered it."

She rolled her eyes playfully and started heading out the room. I followed, still a little sleepy, still unsure of where I stood in this new life that felt way too soft around the edges to be real. It's like someone dropped me in a daydream and forgot to wake me up.

The smell of eggs and something warm hit me as soon as we reached the kitchen. I stared at the table. There was an omelette on a plate-perfectly cooked, no signs of burning or panic.

"Did you get Gordon Ramsay to secretly do this?"

Demi laughed. "Just try it, okay?"

I picked up the fork and took a small bite. No fire, no smoke. Just cheesy, fluffy perfection. My stomach rumbled in approval.

"Alright. I'll admit it. You didn't try to poison me."

She grinned with pride. "Told you."

We ate mostly in silence after that, and for once, it wasn't awkward. Just calm. But the calm always comes with its own kind of weight for me. I could feel her across the table, not just see her-every time she moved, every time she breathed, my skin reacted faintly. Her presence vibrated against me like a second skin.