Even Heroes Have Scars

[63] Here We Go Again

A/N

Hey, guys. Happy quarantine. Yeah, it's been about two and a half years since I last updated, but with this self-isolation from COVID-19, I've been in a mood to write this story. I was planning for this to be the final chapter, but I think I'll write a couple more. I'll explain more at the end of this chapter. Enjoy!

Ansley's P.O.V.

It was the day after Demi dropped by the diner. Hayden just visited after work.

Britney eyed me from the kitchen door where she stood. "I don't like you. Never have. Probably never will. But, despite that, for someone who claims nobody likes her, and who I personally don't like, you sure do have a lot of people who, for some odd reason, want to be with you."

"I don't understand," I mumbled, confused.

"The redhead, Demi Lovato, that British guy... you're are quite scandalous. Just pick one already." She began to enter the kitchen, but then turned back around to face me. "Preferably the guy so I don't have to watch any more of your homosexual bullshit. It ain't supposed to be like that, Bible says so. Plus, he's hot. And that accent? Sign me up."

"You do know it'll be a hell of a lot less painful for you if you just stop caring what I do, right?"

She scoffed. "You're practically shoving it down my throat. Disgusting lifestyle. You're going to Hell."

I rolled my eyes. I'd had this argument with her numerous times, where she called me a sinner who would go to hell, and I told her to keep her opinions to herself, because as far as my sexuality goes, she has no say in how I live my life. She told me I should quit my job once, get my lesbianism out of her life, because the Bible deems it a sin. I told her I'd see her in Hell then, because she's sinned hundreds of times, probably more than I have. I stopped arguing after that; it was a lot of wasted effort trying to change the views of someone who'd already had her mind made.

On Saturday, at Jacob's party, Demi pulled me aside a couple minutes after I entered her house. My brother and his friends were in the basement, as per usual, and she dragged me up the stairs to her room. I was nervous about why we had to go to her room to "talk," but I didn't say anything, as I was trying to act like we were normal again.

She sat me on the end of her bed, and she paced about her room, running her fingers through her hair, which was now dyed all black. Something was stressing her out, and despite the fact that I noticed this, I remained silent. Any mumbles of encouragement could potentially be dangerous.

"I suddenly don't know how to act around you anymore," she whispered, rubbing her face with her hands.

I folded my hands in front of me and sighed. "I don't know what you mean."

Blushing, she laughed. "I want to be your friend again, like nothing changed. But it's hard to do that, 'cause when we were 'just friends' or whatever, we were flirting, and, looking back, I feel like we were never really 'just friends.' There's this in-between stage that we were constantly in. I don't know. Maybe I was just imagining it. Maybe it wasn't really there."

Here we go again. I shook my head. "It was there. I mean, we are basically starting from scratch here. Soon, it'll come easily."

There was this urge coursing through my body, like a current or riptide in an ocean, sucking me back to four months ago. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was kiss her. I imagined myself standing up, telling her I completely overreacted and that I loved her, and I'd kiss her, cupping her face in my hands. I'd tell her she's beautiful. I'd ask her if she wanted to write a song together again, and we'd fall back in love in a matter of seconds, assuming either of us ever fell out.