Title: Believe In Me

Summary: AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like.

Pairing/s: Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others.

Authors Note: Here we go, 25th chapter. This is short and not much happens at all, but it's the aftermath and skips ahead a few days to move things on a little. I'm hoping to have the final one done and dusted before I go away for Christmas, but if that doesn't happen... well. I have a while and only two more chapters to write, so even though the last one is sure to be a whopper, I'm sure I'll manage. Thank you for all your reviews on the last chapters (even the nit-picky ones ;D) because they really make me think about what I'm writing and try to fix any mistakes I might've made in the details (like I definitely did in the 23rd one... because I didn't think about the little details BUT THANK YOU FOR POINTING IT OUT, BECAUSE NOW I'M GOING TO PROOF READ A MILLION TIMES, JUST TO MAKE SURE I GET EVERYTHING :D). And, of course, they make me write more when I should be finishing coursework. Not so sure my Geography teacher will be thrilled, but oh well. I can't help that...

Disclaimer: Sigh. If I owned Camp Rock... well, there are a million possibilities. Sadly, I don't so... c'est la vie?

Music: Wish You Were – Kate Voegele

"I'm still in love with who I wish you were"

"I don't want to talk about it!" I cried, pulling my covers over my head and obscuring myself from the glare that a certain Caitlin Joanne Gellar was shooting my way. I don't think it worked though; she was probably just glaring at the Mitchie-shaped mound in the bedclothes instead.

I hadn't slept. I hadn't eaten. I'd gotten off the bus, managed to beg Caitlin into letting me borrow some money to pay the driver (he'd been really supportive and let me pay at the end of my journey... which I had. With Cait's money) and then driven home from Boston in silence. Well... my best friend kept asking me questions, but I couldn't tell her what had happened. I couldn't tell anyone what had happened. Nobody would understand my point of view, I was sure of it. They'd tell me I was stupid and that I should have let him explain and that I shouldn't have just run away. And the tragic thing was, I would've agreed with them. Deep down, I would've totally agreed with them. Because on that journey home I had a lot of time to think and I'd come to the conclusion that I'd been wrong. I'd yelled and thrown a fit at him... but I was the one who hadn't let him explain, right?

Then again, he was the one that kissed another girl.

My mom and dad had tried to get me to speak – when I finally got back to the house at gone two in the morning and they'd tried to talk to me about why I'd decided to come home – but I'd put up a mean resistance. My guard hadn't broken at all. And I'd gone up to my room almost immediately, burying myself in my covers and crying until I had no tears left. And when that came and went, I resorted to just staring at the ceiling, thinking it all through. As much as it hurt, it was all I could do.

Now, it was mid-afternoon the next day, my mom and dad had tried and failed to get me to leave my room, and they'd sent in the cavalry. The cavalry being my best friend Caitlin, who took no prisoners when it came to getting her own way.

"I understand that Mitchie, but all of us want to help! We don't know what happened. And yes, when I say we, I do mean me and Nate because we've been talking all morning about what the hell has happened to our two best friends who, up until last night, were blissfully happy and about to tell each other that they liked each other." Caitlin said, and I could see the look on her face. It was not amused. "So you can either spill, or we'll find a way to make Shane spill."

Shane.

I couldn't help myself; I still cared about him. You can't just stop yourself caring about someone. It doesn't happen overnight. But I didn't remove the covers from over my head as I asked the question that had immediately sprung to mind. "How is he?"

The bed moved slightly as Caitlin sat down on the end of it, presumably facing in my direction, and she heaved a sigh. "You really want to know?"

Immediately I had this vision of Shane Grey, partying it up with random girls he'd picked up off the street, having fun, not caring about the girl whose heart he'd stolen and then ripped apart. As unlikely as it might have been, it was possible that me leaving had been what he'd wanted. It was possible. "No," I said, weakly and shaking my head. It must have looked odd – me shaking my head and causing the covers to shake along with it – but Caitlin didn't laugh.

I did want to know. Part of me did. Part of me thought that he was sitting on the tour bus like I was sitting here at home; drowning in my own misery. Or... in his own misery. Part of me wanted to hear it said out loud so that I could know that I'd made a mistake. That I'd screwed it up just as much as he had. That we were both in the wrong. But then there was the other part that was eating away at the rational side of my brain. The other part that was convincing me that he thought he was better off and that he was glad that I was gone.

"Mitchie... why did you run away?"

The words left Caitlin's mouth softly, as though she were trying to persuade a two-year-old to answer the question. But I wasn't a two-year-old. I was eighteen. I was eighteen and I was lying in bed like a broken mess over someone I'd really only met a few weeks ago. I tried to do the math in my head. One week and five days. Holy crap, was that all it was? One week and six days ago, I had no idea that I was even going to a Connect 3 concert, let alone going on tour with them. One week and six days ago, I was just plain old Mitchie Torres. Now I was...

Who was I kidding? I hadn't changed. I was still plain old Mitchie Torres. More people knew me. More people thought they knew me. But I hadn't changed at all. And this realization made me all the more upset. After all that, what did I have to show for it? A broken heart and a couple of paparazzi shots all over the internet about me. Well that was useful.

"Mitchie..."

Pulling the covers from off my head in one swift motion, I didn't even take a moment to consider the fact that this movement had totally messed up my hair in the process. "I ran away because I had to, okay? I ran away because I had to!"

She was looking at me with an expression of such sympathy, that it hurt. I didn't want sympathy. "I DON'T WANT SYMPATHY!" I cried, feeling the tears prick in my eyes. "I don't want you guys worrying about me, because it's my fault I'm in this mess. I fell for the jerk. I ran away from him when he was trying to explain. I went to that stupid concert in the first place! I caved. You begged me to go to the stupid concert, and I caved in! Argh!"

Dropping my head in my hands, I dug my nails into the skin on my forehead, feeling them leave their imprints. It didn't hurt so much as remind me to feel. After crying all night and feeling totally numb with stupidity and hurt, I needed reminding that I could still feel physically.

"Mitchie, you can still fix this."

I shook my head, not looking at her. "No. No. He said nothing. When I told him I liked him, he said nothing. How can I go back there, knowing that he doesn't feel the way that I feel about him? Plus, he hasn't tried to get in touch with me since last night. Maybe he doesn't want me to - "

"That's bull, Mitchie, and you know it. He wants you to. After everything you guys have been through, how could he not want it?"

My head was still shaking, my eyes were still closed. "He wants Summer, Caitlin. Last night, after I told him how I felt, I walked in on him and Summer. They were kissing and... I don't know. I told him that I'd written a song about him and he just... he went and kissed someone else? Don't tell me that you wouldn't have run at that."

Caitlin opened her mouth to reply, but I carried on before she could. She wanted to know the whole story? Well that's what she'd get.

"I ran and he came after me. And I was angry and hurt and I said the first thing that came to my head, which was wrong. I can't even... remember everything I said to him, but most of it was just in the heat of the moment. But he didn't... he didn't even try to tell me he liked me back. He just... stood there. And I couldn't take it. When that photographer guy popped up and started asking questions and Shane wasn't answering and he wasn't... explaining... I just couldn't take it. And so ran. But it was the right thing to do, Caitlin. It was the right thing to do. Because it wouldn't have been the same. I wouldn't have been able to stay on the bus. So don't tell me I should have stayed and that I can fix things because I can't."

I don't even know if I was making sense. All I knew was that I was hurting. I was hurting and that had started thanks to a certain Shane Grey. If I'd thought about it – really, really thought about it – I might have worked out that it was myself to blame. But I didn't want to. It's always easier to blame someone else. You can avoid other people if they've hurt you. You can't ever avoid yourself.

"Yes. You can. If you want to fix it, you - "

"Maybe I don't want to, Cait!" I yelled, looking away from her and around the room that seemed to unfamiliar. Even though I'd barely been gone, it was like I hadn't been here for years. "Maybe this is what I want! Maybe you're just sticking your nose in where it isn't wanted! I don't need you here telling me how to run my life! I'm fine. I am fine. Just go away and leave me alone. Call Nate or something; I'm sure he cares about what you have to say."

Not in control, would have been a good way to describe myself. I didn't know what I wanted; what I was saying. It was like in Mean Girls. Word vomit.

A flash of hurt appeared in Caitlin's eyes, before her face hardened too. Caitlin Gellar was one person you didn't mess with. She was going to tell you what she thought, no matter what. "Fine then, Mitchie. Fine. You lie here, with your covers over your head and drown out every thought that contradicts what you want to believe. Fine. Have fun. Just know that you are not the only victim here. And that if you keep going at the rate you're going – in denial and pushing away those who try to help you – then you definitely won't be the victim. Nobody will feel sorry for you."

"I didn't ask anybody to feel sorry for me." I shot back, folding my arms.

"Good. Because when you're left, all alone, with all your regrets... I wonder who'll be there. Too bad I won't be around to find out." And with that, my best friend stood up and walked over to the door, turning back for only a fraction of a second. "You know... you started off hating Shane because he had a bad attitude. Look in the mirror, Mitchie. Right now, you're acting more like the supposed Shane Grey than Shane Grey is. Talk about personality switch..."

Guilt washed over me as I took in her hurt tone of voice, and I was just about to apologize – ask her to help me – when she turned away and stepped out of my door, slamming it behind her.

"Right now, you're acting more like the supposed Shane Grey than Shane Grey is..."

---

There was no getting out of school on Monday morning. My mom and dad put their foot down and said that I couldn't stop my education because I'd been on a tour. Even if I did have a broken heart. So even though I'd spent four days in my bed and removed from society completely, I found myself being dropped off outside school at a ridiculously early hour (though considering the hours I'd been up until... it wasn't really) and back at square one. Only it was worse this time. Much, much worse.

Shane hadn't called. Or texted. Or made any contact whatsoever. On Saturday morning I'd given in and called his number, but was told that the number was no longer in service. Which had torn me apart that little bit more. He'd made it impossible for me to contact him then. If his number was no longer in service, I couldn't call or text. There was no way. Caitlin had said that I could fix it if I wanted to. How could I fix it if he'd taken away my only means of contacting him? He obviously didn't want me to call him. He obviously didn't want me. He obviously didn't feel the same way.

I'd caught snippets of news about me on HotTunes and heard my mom and dad having conversations about it when they didn't think I was listening. Apparently it was everywhere: Mitchie Torres – girl who had changed Shane Grey – and the rockstar himself were caught having an argument on Wednesday night in Pennsylvania. It ended with her storming off and she hasn't been since. That was the official story anyway. Whenever it came on TV though, I always flicked over. It was too much to bear.

I'd practically begged my mom and dad to let me have a day off today, but they refused. They didn't know the whole story; all they knew was that I was home, I was depressed and I needed to get out of the house. And I wasn't going to do the last thing unless I was absolutely made to. School was the perfect excuse to make me get out into the world.

It was going to suck though. I knew it would.

Whispers followed me as I took my tentative steps up to the entrance; people pointing and laughing in my direction. I saw Caitlin – whom I hadn't spoken to since our argument on Thursday – and offered her a small smile. But instead of giving one back, she turned away and carried on her conversation.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is." The one voice I knew I'd be hearing at some point during the day alerted my attention and I closed my eyes slowly. Just because I'd been expecting it didn't make it hurt any less. "The attention whore, back from her tour. How was it, Mitchie? Was it super fun? Or can you see what I always saw? That Shane Grey was never after you."

Don't retaliate, I told myself. Don't give her the satisfaction of knowing that I'm dying inside. I kept walking, taking the steps outside school one at a time. People were still watching. Well I hope they were having a good show. I hope they were all having fun, watching my pain.

"Did you fall for him, Mitchie? Aww, ickle Mitchie fell in wuv wiv Shane Grey. How sweet."

God, this girl would not give up, would she?

"Oh well. At least now you're back to where you belong. The bottom of the social ladder at some deadend high school in Cohasset, Massachusetts. No false pretenses anymore. At least now you're not living a lie and just waiting to get your heart - "

The smug tone in her voice irked me. As if I wasn't already wound up enough, Rochelle had to go and twist the knife. Well no. No. Spinning around on my heel, I stopped and relished in the look of surprise on her face when she found that she was no longer talking to the back of my head. Not expecting that one.

"Shut. Up. Just because he didn't and wouldn't ever want you, doesn't mean that you have any right to make other people feel bad. Okay? So just shut up."

I didn't wait for any other reaction; just turned around and walked the rest of the way into school as fast as I could. Escaping the whispering and the pointing. Escaping it all.

Except... this time, there'd be no phone call from Shane to make it all better. There'd be no light at the end of the day by way of a text or hearing his laugh on the other line. There wasn't even my best friend by my side to make some funny comment about how stupid Rochelle was and make me feel better instantly. I was alone this time around. And there was nothing I could do about it.

It was my fault. How could I complain? It was my fault things were broken.

And it was my fault that I didn't know how to fix it too. It was my fault.