But I'm Different (A Demi Lovato Fanfiction)

Chapter: Fraying Edges

The house felt quiet in a way that wasn't peaceful - more like the calm just before a storm. The late afternoon sun filtered weakly through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the living room where I sat curled up on the couch, blanket pulled tight around me.

Demi was in the kitchen, humming quietly as she prepared dinner. The faint clatter of pots and pans was oddly soothing. I watched her silhouette from my spot, the way she moved so easily, so sure of herself. Sometimes I wondered how she could be so bright in a world that often felt so dark to me.

I reached for my phone and absentmindedly scrolled through my messages. Notifications from friends, mostly kind and supportive, but my mind couldn't hold onto their words for long. It kept drifting back to the moments at the grocery store - the heaviness in my chest, the trembling legs, the overwhelming flood of sensations that felt like an impossible storm inside me.

How did other people do it? How did they walk through crowds without their skin crawling? How did they ignore the buzzing, the itching, the feeling that the world was too loud, too close, too much?

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe deeply, the way Rebecca taught me during our session. In... two... three... out... two... three. But even that felt like a battle.

The truth was, some days I won the fight with my brain and body. Other days, I barely made it out alive.

"Hey," Demi's voice broke through my thoughts. She settled down beside me and draped an arm over my shoulders. "You okay?"

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to curl into myself and disappear. Another part wanted to scream, to tell her everything.

"I'm tired," I said finally, my voice cracking. "Not just because of the shopping... it's all of it. The noises, the people, the looks. Sometimes it feels like I'm drowning in my own skin."

Demi nodded slowly, her eyes soft and understanding. "I know. I wish I could take it all away for you."

"You can't," I whispered, feeling small. "But you try."

She leaned her head against mine. "Always."

We sat like that for a while, the silence stretching but somehow comforting. It was the kind of quiet that said we didn't have to fix everything right now.

Later, after dinner, Demi suggested we watch a movie. I picked something light and silly, hoping to keep the dark thoughts at bay. But even then, my mind wandered, and the weight of loneliness crept in.

It wasn't that Demi didn't care - she cared too much. Sometimes that made it harder, because I felt like I was letting her down when I couldn't just 'be normal.'

After the credits rolled, I stood up and went to my room, needing space. I pulled the covers over my head and let the tears fall quietly.

I hated feeling broken. I hated feeling different. But more than anything, I hated being so scared that no one really understood.

Just then, my phone buzzed. A message from Mia popped up: "Hey, want to hang out tomorrow? Maybe a walk in the park? Just us."

I stared at the screen, heart fluttering with a strange mix of hope and fear. Maybe I could try. Maybe I didn't have to fight this alone.

I texted back: "Yeah. I'd like that."

As I set the phone down, I let myself believe - just for a moment - that maybe, somehow, things could get better.

I lay back down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, the room dark except for the soft glow of my phone screen. Mia's message kept replaying in my mind like a song I couldn't get out of my head. Just us. That simple phrase made something twist inside me-something I didn't want to name but couldn't stop feeling.

Was it just friendship? Or something more?

Every time Mia smiled at me, or laughed at something dumb I said, my chest tightened and my thoughts spun faster than I could follow. But what if she didn't feel the same? What if I say something, and it made everything weird? What if I lost her?

My brain flooded with every possible outcome, some hopeful, some terrifying. What if she looked at me differently? What if she thought I was crazy?

But there was one thing I knew: I didn't want to keep this bottled up anymore. I wanted to tell her. I wanted to trust her.

Could I be brave enough?

Tomorrow would tell.

I closed my eyes and whispered into the quiet, Maybe, just maybe, it's time.