IMAGINE... d.l.

In Case You Just Want To Come Home

(A/N: Also one of my favorite imagines so far. Warning: Lovatics may cry.)

(in which you spend your morning a week after your fight with Demi)

You sit on the rim of the bathtub, pressing your palms to your eyes hard as try to stop the tears. Another day without your love.

It's been almost a week since you broke up with Demi. It was the worse thing you ever had to do. Tears, yelling, hurtful words, etc. You had found out that she had been cheating on you for over a month and even though she said she ended it all, it still struck you hard.

The night she had told you, it was your anniversary of when you two first met. You were planning a special dinner that you cooked yourself. You had picked out Demi's favorite dress that she liked on you and you were going to put it on once dinner was done.  Demi wasn't supposed to be home for a half hour because she was still at the studio recording songs, but she came in all wet since the rain was poring down hard. She said she needed to talk to you and you two sat on the couch. And then she told you. It took some time, but she told you.

After that, it's a blur. You remember slapping her hard across the face and screaming at her which turned into screaming at each other. You remember throwing a framed picture of you and her at the wall, the glass breaking. You remember hitting her anywhere you could. You remember her going upstairs and packing her stuff, saying she's staying at Marissa's. You remember saying that you hated her before she closed the door and you throwing another framed picture at the door. You remember turning off the stove and taking the wine bottle you set out on the dinner table off the surface and downing it straight from the bottle.

After that, it's all a blur. You must've passed out because you only remember waking up an hour later on the floor in the living room and going into the kitchen to eat up some mac and cheese, forgetting about the pasta with shrimp, tomatoes, and green peppers that still sat in the pan on the oven, cold and half-cooked.

You flinch as you remember that horrible night. The realization is still setting over you. She had been with someone else - some model who you found out about on Twitter - for over two months. Two months. You and Demi had been together since 2012. Two years and she's just going to throw it all away like that.

You stand up from the bathroom and move to the mirror, looking at your puffy face, your eyes red and your cheeks raw from crying. You can barely speak anymore. You haven't called anyone ever since Demi left. Your mom and your friends have called. So has Marissa and Demi's family. But you don't answer them. You don't want to talk to anyone unless it's Demi who hasn't called you ever since she left.

You haven't eaten in a while either. You ate yesterday, but only a one half of a BLT sandwich. It's still the fridge probably. You haven't gone out either. You're only dressed in a T-shirt and some black sweatpants right now. You feel disgusting. Demi must've thought you were disgusting since she cheated on you. And the model she cheated on you with is gorgeous. High cheekbones, emerald, owl-like eyes, tan skin, hourglass body. Everything your not.

You sigh and walk out of the bathroom and down the stairs slowly to the living room, feeling like a zombie. You spot Demi's leather jacket on the couch and almost cry. You forgot you took it from outside last night. You found it out back as you were taking the trash out. You found it right by the one of the trash bags. It used to be your jacket, but you gave it to her on her 20th birthday. This is also the jacket you wore when you first met her.

You choke up at the memory, taking the jacket and inhaling it, her scent still trapped in it. You were at a club the first night you met Demi back in 2012, but you weren't sure who she was because of how drunk you were. As you can remember and as Demi described, you tried to kiss her before throwing up on the floor and on your own shoes. Demi had taken you into the bathroom to clean you up before taking you out her car since you told her your friend drove you here and put you in the backseat of her car before you threw up again, right onto her leather seats. She drove you home to her place, cleaned you up, put you into some of her clothes, and tucked you into a guestroom bed. You remember waking up in a pretty room with a light blue comforter on you in a KISS T-shirt and gray sweatpants. You remember feeling the pounding in your head and your grumbling stomach. You also remember Demi Lovato standing in the doorway of the room in a white tank top and black gym shorts.